Hello ! May I request a yan scaramouche x fatui harbinger reader? This is my first time sending a request, so I'm not sure what else to add..
I thought about answering this with headcanons only, but I like your idea enough, so my brain blurted out a small drabble to accompany them.
Yandere!Scaramouche x fatui harbinger!gn!reader
Scaramouche isn’t a type of person that is easy to please, as he can find fault in almost anything or anyone within a couple of minutes, a contemptuous scowl taking it’s usual place on his face. He dislikes his subordinates - they are stupid and slow and never get his orders right, despite how simple his commands are. He loathes ordinary people - they idle around and get in the way of his business. And, of course, he despises his colleagues - they're crazy and annoying bunch, starting from the battle obsessed ginger idiot and ending with just straight up insane scientist who likes to play god on other fatui underlings.
Not counting you, of course.
You see, there is always some exception from the rule, divergence from the median, unnatural anomaly, you.
It was hard at first, to comprehend that he actually liked you. He felt this weird warmth blooming in his chest as he looked at you, cheeks furiously heating up, and his eyes were searching for your face, and especially your lips, every time you had a meeting together. Every single time.
All it took for him to finally realize his feelings for you was some half serious comment from Childe, the moron joked that Scaramouche looked like a longing maiden, at which the shorter man snapped back with a couple of barbed insults that no doubt hurt Tartaglia’s ego.
Despite understanding his sentiments now, it didn’t make life easier in the slightest sense. On the contrary, Scaramouche was now aware how much in love he was with you - he was annoyed with himself for the first three weeks - and how much power you had over him.
It is frightening to know that he allowed himself to be ruled by his feelings alone like some foolish teen having a first crush. You reduced a great Harbinger to some love obsessed idiot. Scaramouche started to catch himself how hard it is to just stop staring at your form, devouring your face, legs and form with eyes alone, or how angry he gets once anyone other than him talks to you, be it other Harbingers, your underlings or even Tsaritsa herself.
Sometimes a desperate thought makes its way into his mind - to lock you up and hide from the whole world, to be the only person to touch, smell, taste and see you, to be the only one blessed to witness your beauty and hear your voice. Silly notion reappears in his head with a concerning frequency, and he sometimes even entertains it, consumed by his imagination for a far longer time that is healthy
Nonetheless, Scaramouche always has to discard the idea - it is a mad, perverse and unobtainable image - no matter how much he lusts after you and pictures you all good and docile just for him, you are still a Harbinger, his equal in everything, including the power. If only you were some underling or even civilian, then he wouldn’t need to feign indifference in your presence, or stop some of his less than pleasant urges. He could just snatch you and chain you, train to be a good little toy just for him, happy to serve it’s master and owner.
Oh how sweet you would moan and beg under him, how much you would do to please him. Scaramouche could break you and rebuild from scratch, make sure that there is nothing but him in your pretty head, match his obsession with you with a love he would force you to learn. He could be your god and the world, replace everything in your life with his presence alone. Sadly, there’s no way Scaramouche can get away with this when you are his equal.
Fortunately for him, there are ways fatuis even as high and mighty as Harbingers can still lose their title. The easiest one is to disappoint Tsaritsa - fail enough tasks, mess up significant missions or cause an international conflict, you pick it.
It’s a traitorous and dangerous thought - sabotage of the fellow harbinger, something that would prompt his own demotion or even dismissal if someone got wind of what he plans. But, Scaramouche muses, it’s also a game worth playing - he can lose everything if he fails, but he’ll get you if he wins. He just needs to trick you to ruin your reputation and attract the ire of the cryo archon.
“Hello”, he says, approaching you after the usual harbinger gathering, a fake smile plastered on his face: “I want to help you with that mission Tsaritsa gave you”.
You look at him with an unreadable gaze, brows furrowed in contemplation: “Why would you offer your help?”
“I don’t want Tsaritsa or Fatui to be at a disadvantage, this task is really hard. I am not questioning Tsaritsa’s judgement, but Qixing started to be really suspicious of us, especially after that idiot, Tartaglia, almost drowned the whole city”. He tries to keep his usual slightly annoyed, slightly angered manner of talking, hoping that you won’t question him.
It works - “All right”, you nod offering an intel spies have collected, and start introducing him to what you plan to do. He intently listens, feeling how his fake smile grows into a genuine one.
Headcanons
Scaramouche is smitten - his eyes trail you, he takes your every word like a holy scripture, he gets so flustered when you just look his way, yet he never shows it to you, a bored facade appearing every time you pay him even a gram of attention.
You, most likely, won't even be aware of his crush growing into obsession - Scaramouche is a skilled actor, capable of showing thousands of different emotions seconds, effortlessly switching between the masks.
Despite the gentle feelings he has fpr, Scaramouche also possesses much darker urges that he doesn't want to stop.
He is very possessive, getting angry every time you talk with anyone other than him.
He likes to picture you obedient and docile, worshipping him like a God. He thinks he deserves it.
The balance in the power between you two is something that really bothers him - he wants you to be completely dependent on him, vulnerable before any wish and perversion he could subject you to.
Will try to sabotage you as a harbinger in hopes that you lose your title and power.
If you somehow remain infallible to his schemes and plans he will try to actually befriend you.
It's an arduous task, none of the harbingers really like each other enough to build such intimate connections, and both you and Scaramouche know it.
If you have a lesser rank than him, he will try to come off as a well meaning senior. If he is the one with a lesser title, then he will feign ignorance and ask for assistance.
All in all, your fate depends on how smart and cautious you are around Scaramouche. If you are perceptive enough he will have to face one defeat after the other, lessenning his resolve.
Don't think that it will be enough to stop him from trying, though.
For several years, Viktor’s leg caught my eye—specifically, I was searching for an official diagnosis and struggling to find something that fit him. After years of speculating, I believe I've found his condition's proper diagnosis and name.
Viktor has a rare and severe case of femoral anteversion in his right leg.
What exactly is femoral anteversion? It is a condition in which the femur rotates, causing the knees and feet to face inward rather than forward. This can impact one or both legs. This condition usually resolves on its own, but more severe cases require medical intervention such as leg braces, therapy, and surgery in more extreme instances—however, this condition is treatable.
This condition impacts children, typically the result of trauma, fetal development, or genetics. Viktor was likely born with this, which would propose that he’s either genetically predisposed to it or the result of a tough pregnancy.
This small scene is an excellent example. It’s only several seconds long, but here we can see that his leg is rotated inward, and he corrects it to face forward—which pains him as he visibly winces—all while Jayce speaks.
It’s noticeable when he’s a kid. You can see how his leg twists and faces inward and how his foot catches on the heel of his other foot, which causes him to trip. In episode 8, while he runs on the dock, he almost trips from this issue again before catching himself and sprinting. Viktor also has an in-toe gait; his step curves as he walks, while his other leg does not.
His leg brace, which we see in Act 2, serves one primary purpose: to force the leg to rotate and face the proper direction. However, at this stage, his condition has been left untreated for so long that it is progressing and showing a drastic impact on his entire body that the leg brace will not fix. It also makes mobility even more challenging for him, with difficulty bending and extending his leg.
This condition can throw the entire body out of whack if left untreated. It can cause pelvic issues, osteoarthritis, spinal decompensation, labral and chondral damage, hamstring-originated tendinopathy, and even weakening of the abdominal muscles, as well as a wide range of spinal problems. The feet, hips, and back are significant body parts that work together; if one is bad, the rest will suffer.
Viktor would require a femoral derotation osteotomy; however, given the severity of his condition and how other parts of his body are now significantly impacted--such as his pelvis and spine, we now have more complications on our hands and that's not even touching on his unnamed lung disease.
There's still so much I could discuss here, and perhaps later, after work; I have a handful of notes I've taken about this and how it all just ties together for Viktor, and honestly, it has been really fun to look at and analyze.
If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?
Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.
ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons
viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men
author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.
word count: 1,4K
—
Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:
“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”
“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”
“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.
“I… I shall remember that.”
Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.
Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.
He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.
As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.
When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.
He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.
When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.
You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.
He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.
Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.
He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.
The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.
He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.
When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.
After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.
Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.
If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.
There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.
He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.
He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.
It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.
On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.
For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.
He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.
You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’
If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.
Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.
Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.
sum: things you do that unintentionally turn them on. wc: 14k - roughly 2k - 2.5k per part
contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in alhaitham's), oral (reader givingノreceiving), fingering, come swallowing, handjob in wrio's, mentions of pregnancy/breeding kink in ayato's, out in the open for wanderer's but not caught, 69 in neuvillette's + he carries you
a/n: i liked this until i didn't, which is awkward :')
જ⁀ when he loses to you in a debate - 2k
It felt like the hundredth time that day you’d torn his argument to pieces, your words sharp and precisely calculated. Alhaitham leaned back, eyeing you with a narrowed gaze as he re-evaluated every point you made, searching desperately for a flaw. But there wasn’t one—and that infuriated him.
He was accustomed to being the sharpest mind in the room, to dissecting others’ logic with ease. Yet here you were, dismantling his points without breaking a sweat, meeting him step for step. It should have annoyed him beyond measure. And yet…
His pulse quickened, and he could feel his focus drifting, thoughts derailing as you delivered yet another rebuttal with a slight, victorious curl of your lips. There was a fire in your eyes, a self-assurance that both irritated and exhilarated him, pulling him into an awareness that had little to do with intellectual sparring.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, from the determined glint in your eyes to the way your lips formed around each sharp, defiant word. His jaw clenched, and he felt that familiar frustration morph into something else, something darker, something primal.
“Nothing to say?” you prodded with a smug smile, savouring your apparent win. “That’s not like you, Alhaitham.”
His eyes darkened. For a second, the composed mask slipped, and the heat simmering beneath flickered to the surface. “I could argue,” he replied, his voice low, dangerously calm. “But it seems you’re enjoying this far too much.”
The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else, something unwilling—an almost grudging respect. You’d pushed him to the edge, stripped him of his usual control, and a part of him both resented and admired your nerve. But there was no denying it: you were driving him insane.
A charged silence hung between you, and he felt it—the heat radiating from your body, the steady rhythm of your breath, so close he could feel it. His own thoughts had scattered, leaving him with nothing but the ache of desire he was no longer able to ignore. Alhaitham stood taller, his expression hardening as his gaze settled on your lips, then drifted back to meet your eyes.
“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, his voice roughened by tension. But the bite was gone from his tone, replaced by something unspoken, something magnetic.
Suddenly, he moved, his body pressing you back against the bookshelf, his hands bracketing you, and every other word disappeared from his mind. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper in your ear. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, “always knowing just what to say to get under my skin.”
You felt his other hand slide down, coming to rest on your hip as he drew you closer. Every inch of his lean frame was now flush against you, his erection pressing insistently through the layers between you. The last of his restraint was slipping, replaced by a raw intensity that left no space for pretences.
His lips grazed along your neck, each touch sending a shudder of heat through you as his breath came hot and uneven while he slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers trailing possessively over skin that was bare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting against your neck. “Pushing me, daring me. Now, let’s see just how far you can go.”
In a single, bruising kiss, he claimed your mouth, his hands now exploring the lines and curves of your body with a feverish hunger, mapping out every reaction he’d managed to draw from you. His kiss was fierce and commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tasted every inch of you, unravelling the last threads of your composure.
With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the bookshelf. A few books tumbled from the shelves, forgotten in the heat building between you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against your shoulder, his voice low and dark. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rough with need, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, fingertips trailing against your skin. “All this time, getting under my skin… has it been driving you mad, too?”
Alhaitham’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the warmth radiating through the thin damp fabric of your underwear. A quiet groan escapes him, a sound rough with desire, as he felt your wetness, his own anticipation building with every heartbeat.
"You're so fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slip under the fabric, sliding through your slick folds. "All this time, you've been getting off on our arguments, haven't you? Getting yourself all worked up, imagining me bending you over and fucking you in my office."
He circles your clit with his thumb, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he works you over with his skilled fingers.
"I bet you've touched yourself thinking about me," he continues, his words filthy and raw. "Imagined my cock splitting you open, making you moan my name.”
“Shut up, you talk too much-” you mumble.
Alhaitham chuckles darkly at your mumbled plea, his fingers still working between your legs. "No no-. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how much you need my cock."
He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your knees weak. His thumb rubs tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.
"Come on, angel. Use that clever tongue of yours for something other than arguing with me. Beg for it."
His other hand slides up under your shirt, roughly palming one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips.
"Or maybe you'd rather I stop altogether? Leave you here, dripping and desperate, with nothing to satisfy you but your own fingers?"
He slows his movements, letting the threat hang in the air. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more friction, more pressure. You're so close, and yet he holds all the power to send you over.
"What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and tell me what you want?”
"Please, need it-"
Alhaitham's fingers still inside you at your breathy plea, your desperate words sending a thrill through him. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, "There we go.”
He pulls his fingers out slowly, teasingly. You whimper at the loss, your hips pushing back, seeking to be filled again.
"Ah ah," he tuts, his hand resting on your ass. "Patience. You'll get what you need.”
He steps back, leaving you bent over the bookshelf and aching for him. He undoes his belt, along with the zipper. He approaches his desk drawer, rummaging through before he settles back behind you. You hear the crinkle of foil, the snap of latex, and then the head of his cock teasing your entrance.
Alhaitham runs it along your slit, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. He drags the tip through your folds, covering himself in your sticky arousal.
"Look at you, wanting it so badly," he taunts, his voice a low growl.
He pushes forward, just the tip breaching you, stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, trying to draw him in deeper.
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He chuckles darkly, slowly sinking into your heat inch by excruciating inch.
He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, savouring the feel of your tight walls clenching around him.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.
He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
"That's it-" he encourages, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the good girl you are."
His hand snakes around to your front, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
Alhaitham sets a deep, punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The bookcase rocks under the force of his movements; books tumble to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.
He leans over you, a hand closing on your hip as his cock drives into you relentlessly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl.
He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster now, chasing his own release. Skin slapping against skin fills the room with an obscene sound, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your hot, wet walls clenching around him.
His fingers closed tight around your hips, pinning you down as he thrust with a fervour that made you cling to the bookshelf. “Fuck, I’m close-" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. And just when you thought he’d let go, he pulled away, leaving you empty and aching, the heat between you simmering in the air.
Before you could protest, he spun you around, lifting you onto the edge of his desk. He pushes your legs apart, settling between your thighs once more.
"Wanna’ see your face," he growls, his voice rough with desire.
He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. Then, with one swift thrust, he's buried inside you again, filling you completely.
He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. The desk creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, papers slipping off in a messy cascade to the floor.
He pressed into you, his weight grounding you in place as his lips found yours in a fierce, consuming kiss that left you breathless. When he finally broke away, his mouth traced a heated path down your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your skin, each touch both a promise and a tease. His hips never stop moving, pounding into you with a frenzied energy.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. "I want to feel you come apart on my cock."
He reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation sending you spiralling towards the edge.
Your walls start to flutter, Your breaths are fast and uneven, your body trembling, teetering just on the edge. “Come on,” he murmured, his movements growing less controlled, more desperate, as he felt his own resolve slipping. “Let go… let me feel you.”
With a final, brutal thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing through your body. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the aftershocks.
Alhaitham follows shortly after, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan against your skin.
You both collapse onto the desk, panting and spent, bodies still joined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter.
"Maybe we should have debates more often...." you joke breathlessly.
"Only if it ends like this." he mutters tirelessly as he leans in, his lips meeting yours.
જ⁀ when you argue with him - 2.5k
“Do you ever think before you act?” you snapped, standing so close to Childe that the heat radiating from him matched your own.
His jaw tightened, and he leaned in, voice rising to meet yours. “Don’t lecture me about thinking ahead! If you’d just trusted me for once, we wouldn’t even need a backup plan!”
“Trust you?” You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, meeting his glare without flinching. “How am I supposed to trust you when you treat this like some game? People could have gotten hurt, Childe! This isn’t just your reckless thrill.”
He scoffed, but something in his eyes softened, though it was quickly swallowed by the intensity burning there. "You think I take this lightly? It’s so damn frustrating to have you question every move I make."
You took another step closer, your heart beating faster as the air between you grew heavier, alive with unspoken tension. "I question your moves because they're reckless, Childe. Because you act like you're the only one who matters!
"That's what you think?" he growled, his voice was low and furious. "That I don't care what happens to the people around me?"
For a moment, there was something raw in his eyes—open and wounded—but you pushed the feeling aside, refusing to let him derail you. "You say you care, but you're so caught up in your ego that you can't see past your own reflection.".
"Ego?" He snorted, but his eyes were wild, almost electric, and he leaned in closer to you, the space between you evaporating. "You're one to talk! Acting like you know everything, like I can't do a single thing out there without you hovering over my shoulder."
“Because I have to! If I don’t, you’d—” Your voice wavered as you became acutely aware of just how close he was, his face inches from yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for the faintest beat before they snapped back to meet yours.
And that’s when it struck you—his cheeks were flushed, his gaze burning with something more than just anger. The tension between you wasn’t just frustration; there was a heat simmering beneath it all, sparking like a fuse, and you could feel it as clearly as the breath between you.
This wasn’t just anger. The challenge, the fight, you standing toe-to-toe with him—it had him caught up in something else entirely.
You sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily thrown. “Are… are you enjoying this?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, incredulous.
Childe didn't even try to hide it; his eyes softened, and a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and charged. "Maybe I am," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Didn't think you had this much fire in you.".
You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Childe. I’m trying to get through to you, and you’re—”
“Oh, I’m listening,” he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, rougher. “But I can’t help it if seeing you like this… gets me a little fired up.” His eyes gleamed with a challenging spark, as if daring you to push him further, to keep pushing back.
Your breath caught, but you refused to back down, even as you felt the air between you grow thick with an intensity that was no longer just anger. “You’re… unbelievable,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly.
Childe’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he took that final, daring step closer. His hand found your jaw, fingers brushing your skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. For a heartbeat, the only sound between you was your own uneven breathing as his gaze flicked once more to your lips, lingering there.
“I’m unbelievable, am I?” he murmured, voice barely a breath, but carrying enough intensity to make your pulse race even faster.
"I-"
Before you could respond, his lips met yours with a raw intensity that sent a jolt through you. The kiss was anything but restrained—urgent, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and was finally letting go. His fingers tightened around your jaw, his other hand slipping to your waist to pull you in close, eliminating any trace of space between you.
You matched his intensity, pressing back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight as you poured every ounce of pent-up frustration, tension, and maybe something more into the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into nothing as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that left you breathless.
Childe groaned low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He broke away from your mouth just long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "You drive me crazy," he growled against your throat, his voice rough with need. "Always questioning me, always pushing back. It's fucking hot."
His hands glide along your sides, lifting your shirt in one fluid motion and discarding it as his eyes roamed over you, dark with desire. He paused just briefly, letting the sight of you linger, before his mouth found you again, tracing the curves of your chest with lips and tongue, his fingers deftly working to free you from your bra.
You arched into his touch, head falling back as pleasure sparked through you. Your own hands worked frantically at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Ajax," you gasped out, your voice breathy and wanton. "Please..."
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what?" he murmured, nipping at your collarbone. "I wanna hear you say it."
You swallowed hard, your mind hazy with desire. "I want you," you managed, your voice trembling. "I want you to fuck me, please-”
He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his already hard cock. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing that still separated you.
"I need you," Childe rasped against your lips, his hips rolling against yours in a slow grind. "Right fucking now."
He guided you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, the heated kiss unbroken. He slid down on top of you in one fluid motion, pressing you down onto the bed as he moved with you, pinning you under him, his eyes dark and intense as he took you in. His chest rose and fell with a few heavy breaths as he steadied himself.
"This is your last chance to back out," he whispered, his voice low and rough-edged. "Because once I start, I won't stop until I've had every bit of you."
Your eyes met his, soft and misty with anticipation as the unspoken answer hung in the charged space between you.
"I don't want you to stop," you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. "I want everything you've got-"
With a feral growl, his hands made quick work of the remaining barriers between you. Childe's fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your trousers and panties down in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you, splayed out beneath him, completely bare. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
He settled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against your most sensitive parts making you gasp. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most.
"Please," you whimpered, arching your hips in search of more friction. "Ajax, I need-"
“Shh,” he whispered, brushing a finger softly over your lips. "Just relax… let me take care of you." His voice was just a lulling hum, low and comforting.
He lowered his head and traced a slow, tantalising path up your inner thigh with his tongue, each inch a deliberate tease. A shiver coursed through you, your fingers clutching the sheets as he inched closer to your core, building anticipation with every lingering touch.
When his tongue finally ran along your slit, you cried out, your back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirled around your clit, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on feral. Two fingers pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way.
"That's it, let me hear you," Childe growled against your skin, his words sending vibrations straight to your core. "Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."
He worked you relentlessly, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit. It wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge, thighs trembling around him as your fingers tangled desperately in his hair.
His mouth moved over you with a hungry intensity, each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue sending sparks racing through you, making your hips roll instinctively to meet his every movement.
Your arousal slicked his lips and chin as he held you close, his fingers working in tandem, pressing into you and curling just right to reach that deep, electric spot that made you lose all sense of restraint. The pleasure built steadily, his every touch pushing you closer to the point of no return, your entire body drawn taut in anticipation.
The obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy, the squelch of his fingers inside you, the filthy slurps and moans he made as he ate you out - it was almost too much to bear.
He groaned against your folds, the vibrations making you buck and writhe beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pinning you in place as he kept up his relentless assault on your clit.
Your thighs were shaking violently as your muscles tensed and coiled tight with your approaching orgasm. Childe sensed it too, doubling his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he finger-fucked you harder, faster.
"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against your soaked folds. "Let me feel you come undone on my tongue. Fucking soak me, baby.”
With a hoarse cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as wave upon wave of searing pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, your arousal slick on his chin, dripping down onto the sheets beneath him.
Childe groaned low in his throat, lapping at your release as if it were the finest ambrosia, wringing the last drop of pleasure from your body until you lay still beneath him.
He slowly pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He licked his lips, savouring your taste with a satisfied hum. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”
He crawled up your body, settling between your thighs once more. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance, making you clench with anticipation.
"I need to be inside you," Childe growled, his voice strained with need. "Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing my cock."
He reached down, gripping himself and rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. You whimpered, your hips canting up, trying to force him inside.
"Please," you begged, your voice wrecked and desperate. "Ajax, I need you. Need you so fucking bad."
With a low groan, he pushed forward, sinking into your wet heat inch by inch. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Childe panted, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts as he let you adjust to him. "Feels so good, baby. So fucking good."
Once you'd both adjusted, he started to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that made the bed creak and your body jolt with each powerful thrust.
Childe's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper inside you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch of my cock."
You could do no more than moan incoherently, hands scrabbling at the sheets. The feeling of him so deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, was almost too much to bear.
"You like that, don't you?" Childe panted, strained with exertion.
"Like having me so fucking deep inside you." He punctuated each filthy word with a sharp snap of his hips, driving into you so hard that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around him like a vice.
"Shit, baby," Childe growled, his rhythm faltering as he fought to hold back his own release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna- gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."
But you were too far gone to care, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure consuming you. All you could do was hold on for dear life as Childe fucked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting your deepest spots with every thrust, pushing you higher and higher until you were sure you'd black out from the intensity of it all.
Childe's thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your ankles as he chased his own release.
His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he found his peak. You felt the hot rush of his cum painting your walls, claiming you from the inside out.
A low, shuddering groan escaped him as the intensity of his release rippled through his body. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved, basking in the dying warmth and soft haze of satisfaction.
The weight of Childe pressed against you as he lowered your legs back down. His warm breath on your shoulder as he stayed inside of you. He slowly lifted his head, eyes locked with yours. For that one moment, there was something soft in his eyes—something almost tender—the softness he mostly protected.
"You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered, his voice low and warm.
A smile played at your lips as you looked up at him, quiet happiness filling your eyes. "Not too bad yourself," you teased, reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek, your thumb tracing a light path along his jawline. "For a reckless, ego-driven, pain in the ass."
Childe laughed, leaning into your touch with a shameless grin. "I think you meant to say charming, irresistible, and exceptionally skilled in bed," he corrected, a roguish glint firing in his eyes.
"Yeah, maybe that too," you whispered, pulling him into a soft, dragged-out kiss, basking in the wordless connection that ran between you.
જ⁀ seeing you do domestic things - 2.4k
Ayato leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes focused on you as you worked. The soft light of the afternoon filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene in front of him. You were humming quietly to yourself as you stirred the pot on the hob, moving with a quiet grace that Ayato could only admire.
It wasn’t just the domesticity of the moment that caught his attention—it was the way you made it look so effortless, the way you fit so naturally into his life, his home. You were already making the space feel like it was your joint space, your presence breathing life into the place, and Ayato found himself growing more and more captivated by the thought of this becoming a permanent reality.
You glanced up, catching him watching you, and a teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to help?"
Ayato stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’d rather just watch you, honestly,” he said smoothly, his voice thick with desire. “It’s hard to look away when you make something as simple as cooking look so… irresistible.”
You laughed lightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, the intensity of his gaze deepening with each passing second. You continued with your work, though something about the way he was looking at you made your pulse quicken.
“What’s on your mind?” you asked, still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity in your voice.
He moved closer, placing his hands casually on the counter beside you, his body barely separate from yours. “You,” he said bluntly, his voice dropping lower. “Watching you cook, has me thinking about our future together… it’s making it impossible to focus.”
You paused, raising an eyebrow. “A future together?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the implication. “Like what?”
Ayato’s lips curled into a confident, knowing smile. “Like this. You, in our home, doing all these wifely things, making our space feel warm and lived-in…” His voice was laced with a quiet heat as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can already see it—us—with kids running around, your laugh filling the halls, hearing the sound of little feet chasing each other.”
The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, and you froze for a moment, feeling his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm that matched the rapid pace of your own.
Ayato didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips captured yours in a kiss—slow at first, but quickly turning deeper as his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer. His desire was palpable, every movement of his hands speaking louder than his words ever could.
When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his hands still on you as he looked down at you with a knowing smile. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Seeing you like this, talking about our future… I want it, more than anything. And I want you... right here, right now.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I can’t stop thinking about it—thinking about you.”
You shivered at his words, your chest tightening with anticipation. His boldness, his forwardness—it wasn’t something you were used to seeing from Ayato, and yet in this moment, it made your heart race. You felt the weight of his desire, the rawness of it, and it ignited something in you as well.
He didn’t wait for you to respond, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding along the curves of your body with a sense of urgency. “You’re going to drive me mad if you keep looking at me like that,” he growled. “I can already picture it, I want it all.”
His words were enough to push you over the edge, and without thinking, you pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely, giving into the heat between you. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you up against him as his desire burned hotter.
And as he kissed you with an intensity you hadn’t expected, you realised that this wasn’t just about the moment. It was about the future you were both already imagining together—the family, the home, the life—and Ayato was determined to make that future as real as possible.
The thought of a life together, full of passion, warmth, and the sound of children’s laughter echoing through your shared home, consumed him completely. And as he held you close, he knew he would stop at nothing to make that future a reality.
Ayato's hands slide down your sides, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touches. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. "I want you so badly," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."
His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he starts to tug it upward, his fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You shiver at his touch, arching into him as he leans down to trail kisses along your collarbone.
"I can't wait to see you round with my child," he breathes against your skin, his hand splaying across your belly. "To know that I put them there."
He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and with a swift movement, he lifts you onto it, stepping between your parted thighs.
"I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his hands already working to remove your clothes.
The intensity of Ayato's desire is palpable as he stands between your parted thighs, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as he slowly strips away your clothing, revealing more and more of you to his appreciative eyes.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "So perfect."
His fingers trace the curve of your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, craving more of his touch. He obliges, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His other hand slides down your stomach.
Ayato's hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp at the contact, your hips lifting instinctively seeking more of his touch. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
"So eager," he teases, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against your slick folds.
He circles your clit with a feather-light touch, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. Your head falls back against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself to the sensation of his skilled fingers.
"Please," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand, seeking more friction.
Ayato obliges, sliding a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out of your pussy. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper.
"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "Let me make you feel good."
His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. You cry out, your grip on his hair tightening as pleasure courses through your veins.
"You're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in the way his hips grind against yours. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."
He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Your body trembles on the edge of release, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.
Ayato's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
"That's it, beautiful," Ayato muses, "Look so pretty like this-"
His words, combined with the skillful movements of his fingers, are enough to send you over the edge. Your body tenses, your back arching off the counter as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, your inner walls clenching around Ayato's fingers as you ride out the intense sensations.
Ayato doesn't stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. As you start to come down from your high, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips.
"Mmm, you taste so sweet," he murmurs, licking your essence from his fingers. "I could do that forever if you let me."
Before you can catch your breath, he's removing his own clothes, not taking long to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.
"Need to be inside you-" he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."
He steps between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.
Ayato slowly pushes into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. You moan at the sensation of being filled, your walls clenching around him. He groans at the tight heat enveloping him, his hips pressing forward until he's fully seated inside you.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."
He starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the embers of your desire once more.
Ayato's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to bring you maximum pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing every curve and dip as he loses himself in the feel of you.
"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."
His words, coupled with the tender way he makes love to you, bring tears to your eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him.
"Show me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. "Show me how much you love me."
Ayato's response is to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he continues to move within you. The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you're sharing.
"I'll always love you," he vows against your lips. "Always."
As he speaks, his thrusts become more urgent, more passionate. You can feel the coil of pleasure building once more in your core, your body responding to his every move.
Ayato's thrusts become more urgent, more passionate, as he loses himself in the feel of you. But even as he chases his own pleasure, his mind is filled with thoughts of the future, of the life you'll build together.
"I want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want us, together, forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to come home to you every night."
His hand slides down to your stomach, pressing gently against the soft skin. "I want to see you round with my child, to watch you grow and change as our family grows."
The thought sends a shiver of excitement through you, and you cling to him tighter, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. “I want that too-”
Ayato's response is a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he pounds into you, chasing his release.
Ayato's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he chases his climax. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.
"I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."
His words send a thrill through you, and you clench around him, urging him on. "Yes," you gasp, "Please-"
With a final, powerful thrust, Ayato buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release triggers your own orgasm.
As Ayato empties himself inside you, your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for every last drop. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your juices gush around his length, coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.
"Fuck, yes," Ayato groans, his hips twitching as he feels your release, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of pleasure. "Take it all, baby. Take all of me."
He continues to thrust shallowly, drawing out your climax, his own cock pulsing with aftershocks. Your inner walls ripple around him, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the intense sensations.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. "So perfect, like you were made for me, weren't you?"
As the last waves of pleasure subside, Ayato leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you as his own. You moan into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you've just shared. Ayato's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, your skin still slick with sweat.
"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."
You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you too," you whisper back. "Always and forever."
જ⁀ when you take care of him - 1.9k
Wriothesley leaned back against the pillows, a picture of reluctant vulnerability—a rare sight, his usual sharp confidence dulled by the grip of a stubborn cold. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince you he didn’t need anyone fussing over him, but his protests had crumbled under your firm insistence. So now, he was stuck with you at his bedside, his gruff pride no match for your stubborn resolve.
You place a tray alongside him, holding soup, and a few other remedies. "Alright, let's get you sorted," you said, scooping up a spoonful of broth and extending it toward him.
He looked back at you, his brow furrowed with stubborn defiance, but you only hitched an eyebrow in silence.
He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and grumbled under his breath before he leaned forward and took the spoonful, holding it longer in his mouth than was really necessary, his eyes latched onto yours. His cheeks already flushed with fever, coloured a fraction darker, but he acted like he didn't notice.
"See? That wasn't so bad," you teased your voice soft as you reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat, looking away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. Something about the way you touched him-so gentle, so deliberate-had him feeling unstably off-balance.
His pulse raced, a heat coiling low in his stomach, that left an evident reaction under the blankets that he desperately tried to will away. Mortified by his reaction, he reached for a cushion and shifted it onto his lap, with forced nonchalance.
"You don't need to babysit me," he grumbled, his voice hoarse, and he refused to meet your gaze. "I'll be alright. You've got much more important things to attend to."
“Oh, nice try,” you replied with a wry smile, holding another spoonful toward him. “You’re stuck with me until I’m satisfied that you’re actually resting. So stop pretending you’re not secretly grateful.”
His lips parted, but whatever retort he’d planned died on his tongue as he met your gaze. There was no teasing in your eyes now, only a quiet tenderness that made his chest tighten. You cared-truly-and it was overwhelming in a way he hadn't anticipated.
"Why are you doing all this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, giving away a flicker of something unguarded.
You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the skin that flushed there. "Because you deserve it," you said, so simply. "Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."
He inhaled sharply, his hold on the cushion tightening as the touch of your hand warmed through him and sent a jolt of something far from comforting through him. His mind was racing as the tension betrayed his attempts to keep composed. The hell is wrong with him? He thought. This isn't supposed to feel like… this.
But you noticed. The way his jaw tensed, the subtle shift under the blankets—it was impossible to miss. A mischievous spark lit up in your eyes, and you leaned in just a fraction closer.
“Wrio,” you murmured, your tone laced with playful curiosity. “Are you… turned on right now?”
His head whipped toward you, his wide eyes betraying his panic. “What—no! I mean… maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.
You bit back a grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Aww,” you cooed, your voice teasing. “The big, tough Warden, all flustered over a little care? How adorable.”
“Shut up,” he growled, his face burning crimson as he glared at you—though the heat in his gaze betrayed something far less menacing. "It's not like that."
"Oh, really?" you said, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Then what is it like, Wriothesley?"
He swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before dropping again. "It's... it's nothing," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Just a stupid physical reaction, that's all."
"Mmm, I see," you hummed, reaching out to trace a finger down his jawline. "And by that, what you're trying to tell me is that right now it's not crossing your mind how nice it would feel to be taken care of by someone else? Make you feel better?"
He let out a shaking breath as his eyes darkened to meet yours. "I- I don't." he stammered, words trailing off as he fought for a coherent thought.
"It's alright," you whispered, a small smile on your lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Wriothesley. You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good."
His breath hitched, and his chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as he stared at you, pupils dilated with arousal. "Yes," he breathed, his voice rough from need. "God, yes, I do."
Your heart was racing, your own desire a mirror of his while you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured.
He emitted a low groan; his body quivered in anticipation. "Please," he whispered, voice raw with need. "Please, I need you."
You reached underneath the duvet, your fingers tracing over his hot skin, tracing the lines of his toned stomach. He shivered beneath your touch, breathing in short, ragged gasps as you explored his body.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hips bucking up against your hand. "That feels so good."
You smirked, your fingers dipping lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers. "Is that so?" you purred, your eyes glinting with mischief.
As you freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers you couldn't help but marvel at the sight. His cock, thick and hard, proudly standing to attention. A drop of precum glistened from the tip of his cock, his need evident.
You swirled your thumb around the head, smearing the slick fluid and drawing a shudder from Wriothesley. "Mmm, look at you," you purred, low and husky.
He let out a choked noise, eyes fluttering shut as he fisted his hands in the sheets.
"Please," he pleaded, voice raw with need. "Please, touch me."
You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. His cock twitched in your hand, another drop of precum beading at the slit. He bucked against your hand, his hips rocking in time with your movements.
"That's it," you murmured, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock. "Just relax and let me take care of you."
He nodded, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to your touch. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as you worked him over.
You smirked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. He shuddered beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair as you licked a slow stripe up his length.
"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.
With that, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down. He let out a strangled cry, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements.
You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him deeper, your nose nestling into the hair at the base of his cock. He was throbbing in your mouth, his precum coating your tongue as you worked him over.
"Fuck-" he gasped, voice ragged with pleasure. "Your mouth feels amazing."
You hummed around his shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
As you continued to suck and lick at Wriothesley's throbbing cock, your free hand drifted lower, cupping his heavy balls. You rolled them gently in your palm, feeling their weight, savouring the way they twitched at your touch.
Wriothesley let out a low groan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.
You hummed in return, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Your fingers massaged his balls, delicate flesh kneaded as you worked him over.
He was leaking steadily now, his precum coating your tongue as you sucked him deeper. The taste of him filled your senses: musky, masculine. It was intoxicating - your own arousal growing with each passing second.
"God-" he panted, his hands fisting in your hair. "I'm getting close."
You redoubled your efforts, your head bobbing faster as you took him to the back of your throat. Your fingers squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up even tighter as his climax approached.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum filling your throat as he cried out in ecstasy.
You swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling beneath you. Finally, you released him from your mouth, licking your lips as you pulled back.
As Wriothesley came down from his high, you couldn't help but tease him just a little bit more.
You lightly ran your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up the last of his release. He shuddered beneath you, his over-sensitive flesh twitching at every light touch.
"Ah!" he gasped, jerking his hips without meaning to. "Too much, I can't—"
You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you continued your sweet torment. Your tongue swirled around the tip and he whimpered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tried to push you away, but you held firm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his spent body.
"I could do this all day." you purred, breath hot against his skin.
He let out a strangled laugh, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're a fucking tease," he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.
You smiled, giving the head of his cock one final kiss before releasing him from your mouth. Sitting back, you licked your lips as you took in the view he presented-flush-cheeked, panting, eyes glossed over with satisfaction.
"Someone's gotta take care of you," you murmured, your voice husky. "And I'm more than willing to volunteer for the job."
You leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Wriothesley's lips. He sighed into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer. It was a tender moment, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had come before.
You drew back, staring into his eyes, the warmth and affection glowing within. "How are you feeling?" you asked, softly. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and he smiled. His hand came up to overlay yours. "Better," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Much better, thanks to you."
You leaned in, nuzzling his nose with yours. "I aim to please," you teased, your eyes sparkling merrily.
He chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're hopeless" he mumbled, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.
જ⁀ seeing you wearing his clothes - 2.6k
Neuvillette opened the door, exhaling softly as he stepped into the quiet of his home. After a day full of formalities, courtroom battles, and endless patience, the relief of finally being in his own space was palpable.
He set his coat aside, running a hand through his hair to loosen the constraints of his usually perfect appearance. But as he looked up, whatever was left of his exhaustion was washed clean by the sight of you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts.
You looked up and smiled softly, but the sight of you in his clothes, settled comfortably into his personal space, had him frozen in place. The shirt fell just a little too loose on your frame, sleeves slipping past your wrists, and the hem brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough to spark his desire. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, mingling with your own warmth, making something in him stir deeply.
A glint of intensity appeared in his eyes as he took a slow step forward, watching as your expression shifted, noticing the effect you’d unknowingly had on him. His gaze grew darker, the usual restraint crumbling as he drank in the sight of you in his clothes—his shirt, on you.
“You… have no idea what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice deepening with a possessive edge as he came to stand over you. His eyes roamed slowly from the collar falling off one shoulder to your bare legs curled beneath you.
Before you could respond, he was leaning down, caging you in his arms, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he hovered close, his breath warm against your ear. “It suits you, you know,” he whispered, his voice a blend of softness and possessive heat. “But you know what else? I think I’d rather be peeling it off you.”
His hands slid around your waist, tugging you closer as his lips grazed your neck in a mix of reverence and need. The weariness of his day forgotten, overcome by that fire that urged him to make sure you knew just how much you belonged to him.
"Don't move," he whispered, his voice raw as he pressed you against him. "I need this-
His fingers traced your waist, savouring the feel of soft fabric clinging to your form, but even more so, the sensation of you underneath. You could feel his heartbeat against you, the strong, steady rhythm betraying his calm exterior as his lips found a place on your shoulder- your neck, lingering as if to imprint this moment to memory.
Your hands lightly rested against his chest as he pressed closer, his eyes going dark, unguarded in the display of how far his longing had overcome him. "Every time I come home, I find myself hoping to see you like this," he murmured, voice low and husky. "So close… so undeniably mine.
His eyes, with fierce tenderness, burned as his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, angling your face up to meet his. For a moment longer, his eyes held yours before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and fiercely tender.
Neuvillette's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a fervour that bordered on desperation. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted him access, he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.
"You taste like home," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Like everything I've ever wanted."
His hands roamed over your body, caressing the curves he knew so well.
His hands slid up your sides, tracing the hem of the shirt as it brushed against your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this, so perfectly mine."
He leaned in, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply. "I want to make love to you, right here, with you wearing nothing but my shirt."
His hands slipped under the fabric, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched.
Neuvillette's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he claimed your mouth in another searing kiss. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss.
He carried you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. When he reached the bed, he laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress.
"You drive me wild," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Seeing you in my shirt, wearing my scent... it's almost too much to bear."
His hands slid under the shirt, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point, making you gasp.
"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."
His hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your breasts. He dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until it hardened under his touch. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your folds, teasing you slowly.
Neuvillette's lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. His hand continued to stroke you, his fingers teasing your folds, dipping inside you slowly.
He could feel your breath hitching, your body arching into his touch. He released your nipple with a soft pop, blowing cool air over the wet skin, making you shiver.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So responsive, so beautiful."
His hand slid up your body, pushing the shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. He kissed a trail up your sternum, his lips brushing the underside of your chin before capturing your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss.
His fingers continued their teasing dance between your legs, stroking and circling, building the tension within you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body begging for more.
"Tell me how I can please you." he whispered against your lips.
Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his hand still teasing your folds. "Anything, mon amour," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I would do anything to please you, to make you feel good."
His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He captured your earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. "I want to worship every inch of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.
His fingers continued their skilled ministrations, stroking and teasing, building the tension within you. He could feel your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.
"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go, let yourself feel everything. I've got you.”
Neuvillette's fingers glided expertly through your slick folds, teasing and stroking, building the tension within you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild with desire.
His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside you, curling upwards to stroke that spot deep within that made your toes curl.
He set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out, in and out, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body responding to his touch.
He angled his fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. His thumb increased its pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," he growled, his own desire evident in his voice.
"Wanna make you feel good too-"
He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so that your pussy was hovering right above his mouth and you were met with his crotch.
Neuvillette's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed up at you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Then take what you need, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your core.
He pulled you down, his tongue delving between your folds, licking and sucking, tasting your essence. His hands gripped your ass, holding you in place.
You reached down, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock sprang free, the tip already glistening with precum.
Neuvillette's breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. "Please-" he groaned, his hips bucking up into your touch.
You lowered your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the tip of his cock. Neuvillette groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.
You wrapped your lips around his thick shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, sucking and licking, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth.
Neuvillette's hips rocked up to meet your movements, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, just like that," he groaned.
Neuvillette moaned into your folds as he lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh.
He could feel your juices coating his tongue, your scent filling his senses, driving him wild with desire. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside you.
His nose brushed against your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue curling to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. He could feel you trembling above him, your moans filling the room.
"Come for me, mon amour," he growled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "Let go, let me feel you."
He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers pumping in and out of you, faster and harder.
He could feel your thighs trembling against his face, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew you were close, could feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.
"That's it, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your folds.
Neuvillette felt your body tense above him, your walls clamping down around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you. He lapped at your clit, prolonging your pleasure, his fingers gentling their movements as you rode out the waves of your climax.
He continued to lap at your folds, cleaning up your cum, his tongue swirling and flicking, bringing you down from your high.
But Neuvillette remained strong, not letting himself get close, wanting to finish inside you.
As you came down from your high, Neuvillette slowly released your thighs, his hands caressing your skin as he pulled back. His cock throbbed, aching for release, but he ignored it, his focus solely on your pleasure.
He sat up, turning you around and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavour mingling with his own unique taste.
"I need to be inside you," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel you, all of you."
He laid you back on the bed, his body covering yours, his cock nestling against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, seeking permission, seeking connection.
You nod.
With a slow, steady push, he sank into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length.
"Ah, sweetheart-" he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "You feel incredible, so tight, so perfect."
He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, deeper and harder with each movement.
"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I love you so so much-"
His pace increased, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving marks of his passion, his possession.
Neuvillette's teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you as his, as he thrust into you with wild abandon. His hips slammed against yours, his cock driving deep inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
"Mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine, now and forever."
His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body responding to his every move.
He angled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you scream his name. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come with me, angel" he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."
Neuvillette could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against yours, his fingers rubbing your clit harder, faster.
His teeth sank into your shoulder again, his mark claiming you, possessing you, as his thrusts became erratic, his movements losing their rhythm.
With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, ropes of cum flooding you, your name a prayer on his lips.
As Neuvillette's orgasm crashed over him, you could feel your own release building, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock. Your body trembled beneath him, your moans filling the room as you rode out the waves of your climax.
Your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him close as you came undone. Your inner walls rippled around his length, milking him, drawing out every last drop of his seed.
"Neuvillette!" you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.
Neuvillette held you close, his arms wrapping around you, his body shaking with the force of his own release. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name over and over again.
Neuvillette held you close as you both came down from your highs, your bodies entwined, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, his lips trailing over your skin like a whisper.
"I love you, angel," he murmured, his voice low and tender. "I love you more than anything in this world."
He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.
"You are my everything," he whispered, his arms tightening around you. "My heart, my soul, my reason for being."
He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.
"Rest now, mon amour," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.
જ⁀ watching you fight - 2.6k
The air heavy with the scent of battle and the sharp crackle of elemental energy. Wanderer’s movements were graceful and precise as always, his slender figure darting between foes with deadly elegance. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the fight.
No, his attention was locked on you.
You fought with a raw intensity, every strike you made sharp and calculated, every movement full of purpose. The way you moved, the way you commanded the space around you, was captivating. With every swing of your weapon, you demonstrated your strength and your resilience, your utter refusal to back down. The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Wanderer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you.
Each time you dodged an attack, countered an enemy, or dispatched another foe with ease, his chest tightened with something he wasn’t quite used to—something primal.
He had always admired your strength, but this—this—was something different. The sight of your passion, your raw determination, made him ache with desire.
You caught his eye in the midst of a battle, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. He saw the way your lips curled in a confident, almost defiant smile as you took down an enemy, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. His body tensed, a heat flooding his chest as he watched you finish the last enemy off with a powerful blow.
The battle ended in a flash of elemental power, and then there was silence. The only sound was your heavy breathing, while the air still hung heavy with the remnants of a fight. Wanderer didn't tear his eyes from you as he stared at the mess your hair was in, at the droplets of sweat glinting upon your skin. You were standing tall, victorious, and you radiated an undeniable strength that stirred something in him—a hunger he couldn’t push away.
You wiped the sweat from your brow, turning to face him with a breathless smile. “Not bad, huh?” you said, your voice teasing, but there was an edge of satisfaction in it.
Wanderer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes raked over you with an intensity that was impossible to miss. There was something about the way you fought, the way you carried yourself that made it impossible for him to ignore how turned on he was. He couldn’t shake the image of you fighting by his side, every graceful movement making his pulse race.
His eyes gleamed with something darker now, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, low, like he was tasting the words before they left his mouth.
“You have no idea,” he said, his gaze moving over you slowly, like a predator studying its prey. He let the words hang between you, heavy with intent. “The way you fight... the way you move, like nothing else matters but the battle... it’s...” He let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice. “It’s intoxicating.”
His gaze drifted to the blood on your clothes, the way your chest heaved with each breath, the way your muscles flexed beneath the sweat and the grime of the fight. The blood—yours or theirs, it didn’t matter—only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest, igniting something that had been simmering beneath the surface.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between you with purpose. “You look... different,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a low growl in the back of his throat. “Tired, yes. But also more... alive.” His eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze, the unspoken words between you as thick as the sweat on your skin. “I can see it in your eyes—the rush, the satisfaction from victory.”
You could feel his presence closing in, his body just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his every movement sharp and deliberate. There was no longer any space between you two, the battlefield forgotten, the dead enemies fading into the background as he loomed over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
He was studying you now, watching the way your body reacted to his proximity, the slight catch in your breath as you stood tall, still proud in your exhaustion. Wanderer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
“Is that what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with a hunger that made your heart race. “For me to look at you like this? Wanting you, seeing you in a way that’s... less respectful and more... desperate.”
A shudder ran through you at the sound of his voice, at the words that lingered in the air between you two. You wanted to push him away, but your body—your senses—were screaming for more. This was different. This was dangerous, thrilling, and you couldn’t deny the pull.
He reached out, his fingers grazing along your jawline, tracing the curve of your cheek. The touch was light, almost feather-soft, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle with anticipation.
“But I think we both know that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was a purr, a low, seductive sound that made your heart race. “To be seen, to be desired, to be... wanted.”
He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. “Well I want you-”
His hand slid down your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently. “So tell me, are you ready to give in? To let me have my way with you, right here, right now, where anyone could see?”
His other hand trailed down your side, his touch possessive, claiming. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his desire palpable in the air between you.
You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hardness of his muscles, the way he seemed to radiate power and hunger. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding to his touch even as your mind screamed at you to resist.
But you couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you his in every way possible.
So you surrendered, your lips parting in a silent invitation, your body arching into his touch. And as his lips crashed against yours, you knew that there was no going back and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made him gasp. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"Fuck," he breathed, the word muffled against your mouth. "So eager, aren't you?"
His hands tightened in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.
"That how you wanna’ play it, huh?" he murmured, his voice husky, laced with promise. He nipped at your lip in retaliation, a quick, sharp bite that sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing down your spine.
His hands roamed your body, mapping out your curves. He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, teasing, taunting.
He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for the waistband of your pants. His fingers hooked into the fabric, and with a swift, practised motion, he tugged them down, letting them pool around your ankles.
You stepped out of them, now clad in just your shirt and underwear. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Scaramouche's gaze as it raked over your body.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I could just eat you up."
His hands slid up your legs, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, teasingly.
As he revealed you to him, inch by tantalising inch, his breath hitched. "God, look at you," he murmured, his voice reverent, awed. "So fucking perfect."
His hands mapped out your thighs, your hips, your stomach, worshipping every curve, every dip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, then trailing his lips lower.
"Gonna make you feel so good, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Gonna make you forget everything but the feeling of my mouth on you."
And with that, he sealed his lips over your clit, and the world fell away, leaving only sensation, only pleasure, only him.
His tongue traced the seam of your folds, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing up your spine. He savoured the taste of you, the musky sweetness that was uniquely yours. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he explored every inch of you.
He started with broad strokes, his tongue lapping at your folds, coating them with his saliva. Then, with agonising slowness, he zeroed in on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tormenting.
"Mmm, you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled against your flesh. "I could spend hours just worshipping this pretty little pussy."
He punctuated his words with a long, slow lick, from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop of your essence. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp and arch your hips.
His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.
"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Let me hear you. Let the whole world know how good I make you feel."
He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your abs clenched, and you could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
"Come for me, doll" he purred.
And with a final, hard suck on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, your juices flooding his mouth as he lapped them up greedily, prolonging your pleasure.
He didn't stop until he was sure you were spent, until the last aftershocks had faded away. Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening with your essence, a satisfied smirk on his lips.
He grabbed your hips, spinning you around with surprising strength. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his body flush against your back.
His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, kneading it roughly. The other slid between your legs, fingers delving into your still-slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit.
He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly, torturously. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around it, making you gasp and arch into his touch.
"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazed your flesh, not quite breaking the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you.
His free hand moved to his pants, undoing them with practised ease. The sound of a zipper being pulled down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the forest. Then, he was tugging his cock free, the hard length pressing against your ass.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grinding against you. "So fucking perfect."
He lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.
"Last chance to back out, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.
He waited, his body tense, poised on the edge of control. He wanted you, needed you, but he would wait. He would give you one last chance to refuse him, to deny him what he craved most.
But deep down, he knew you wouldn't. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need, the hunger. You wanted this just as much as he did, and he could feel it in the way your body trembled against his, the way your hips canted back, silently begging for more.
"Please what, baby?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Please fuck you?"
He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.
"Or please stop?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Please don't give you what you so desperately need?"
The tip slowly pushed through your folds, but no more. He was so big, so hard, you knew he'd completely stretch you open.
“Stop being an idiot and fuck me-” you muttered.
With a low chuckle, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking tight."
He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the forest, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps.
He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let the whole damn world know who’s fucking you-"
His thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing his cock.
"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Gonna make you mine."
His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed tight, firm circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"Come with me, baby," he demanded, his voice a dark, commanding growl.
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his cum, sending you over the edge with him.
You came with a scream, your body convulsing and shaking in his arms. He held you close, his hips still rocking, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.
"Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice ragged and raw. "That's my good girl."
He peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. "You did so well, baby.”
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body wrapped around his. Finally, with a soft groan, he pulled out, his now softening cock slipping from your pussy.
"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And then maybe round two when we're inside, hmm?"
Arcane Gif Requests: Anon
↳ "Viktor… I know this will probably never see the light of day, but watching how you work so tirelessly to make the world a better place… Well, I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't try. Everyone's gotta do their part, right?"
combining these two requests because i can fit them well together!
scaramouche kissing headcanons
warnings: fluff, and my horrible attempts at explaining kisses, i feel bad putting him as a warning the entire time but he is a menace
✧ scaramouche,, isn't too fond of physical affection
✧ in his eyes, it's weird that people press their mouths together and 'make out', which literally looks like they are eating each other's face (he watched fatui recruits make out in the hallways, my dude saw some wild stuff)
✧ however, scaramouche is open to learn more about kisses, though you need time and patience to warm him up to the idea
✧ while he likes soft pecks on his cheeks when he isn't in the mood for more affection, he becomes really soft around you (and his cheeks are extremely squishy and you feel like you have to thank the shogun for creating him like this)
✧ cup his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses and he will groan at your display of affection, but never dares to make any argument against you - in fact, if you would stop due to his reaction, he'll glare at you and ask immediately why you stopped
✧ for him, kisses are really intimate. after all, he wouldn't press his mouth onto anyone else mouth other than yours that is, so that's that
✧ i see him as the type of person to grab your hands and press soft kisses onto the back of your hand, your fingertips and any small wound you have from fighting that he could find. he also likes pressing his face into the palm of your hand afterwards, a smug grin on his face when he notices your startled and flustered expression on your face as you try to process what he just did. it's such a simple act to show how much he truly appreciates you and yet you always have the same shocked look on your face.
✧ kisses with scaramouche are not an everyday thing. while he has his five minutes in which he might be more demanding for affection than on other days, he doesn't really want to to kiss you the entire time. if you ever come home to him however and kiss him on the lips unprompted, he'll scoff but won't ever refuse you
✧ despite that, kissing him for real, on his actual lips is somewhat of an experience. you can tell he has never done this before and it bothers him to the point of wanting to reject any sort of affection like this, so that's why you need patience. he'll quickly believe that he is of no use if he is unable to perform any task before him, even if it might be a simple kiss (it's the trauma)
✧ his kisses are slow but demanding, leaving you breathless when he parts from you. his hands usually cup your face in an almost possessive way, his way of making sure you're not actually leaving (which sounds stupid in his head since you're right?? there??). his kisses might be slow and somewhat sensual, something rather unexpected from the balladeer of all people, but he's demanding your entire attention to be directed at him, to only see him in those few seconds and that you wouldn't dare even to think about anyone else
✧ he doesn't really peck your face or suddenly attack you with a barrage of kisses, but rather, when he happens to be in a good mood, he'll kiss your forehead gently and immediately turn away and leave the scene as quickly as possible
✧ in a way he reminds you of how snow is, ice cold to the touch but melts right away when coming in contact with your skin - scaramouche was just like that. with no natural body warmth and nothing to essentially make him human, he struggles with himself in a way you couldn't understand but try and grasp upon his feelings
✧ you know that the only reason he still wants to keep you at an arms length at times is rooted in his own fear of being abandoned, something you'd never dare to speak up about with him. knowing him, he'd get upset if you ever mentioned any hidden insecurity of his
✧ so when he kisses you, a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand, a loving kiss on the lips that only you ever came to receive from him, he was similar to a snowflake melting and warming up. he might be cold to the touch, but his heart must be otherwise, that's what you're certain about
✧ at one point, scaramouche might even become impatient if you forget to kiss him after returning home or if you forget your daily peck on his cheek (something he wants to hate but craves as a part of his routine)
✧ sitting across the room, he might clear his throat multiple times, his arms crossed before his chest as he glares at you expectantly
✧ if you have the audacity to ask him what's wrong he'll scoff, simply asking in a deadpan tone if you didn't forget about something - if you still can't remember, scaramouche won't say it and leave the room just moments later, mumbling something under his breath not even you could understand. his pride doesn't allow him to ask for kisses, and besides, how could you forget? (he's more bothered by the fact that he hated not receiving any kiss that morning as you were in a hurry)
✧ why don't you magically understand what he wants from you? stupid mortal
✧ it's not until weeks later you notice the subtle pattern in his behavior. if you kissed his cheek he wouldn't sit down at the same spot and clear his throat pasisve aggressively, sitting there with his arms crossed and glaring at you
✧ if you ask him about it in a rather amused tone, he'll huff and dismiss you, claiming that 'you're too stupid to even remember your own routine' - you don't press this matter and simply give him a peck on his cheek
✧ my poor boy never received any love, so any form of affection and especially physical affection feels foreign to him, so he needs time to warm up to it. however, in his case it's absolutely worth it - for him as for you, he can show you even further how important you are to him, even if it was just a simple kiss
✧ and being a little shit, he expects the same treatment for him without having to ask for it. after all, you said this is what lovers do, so it should come natural to you, right?
✧ he won't admit that he likes kisses. he will never admit this, but you know better
[2.4] Character Analysis: Scaramouche’s Transient Dream
It turns out that I am still thinking about puppets and artificial life in Genshin, so it is time to do an ambitious but hopefully insightful character analysis of Scaramouche with some meaningful inclusions of the Raiden Shogun and Ei where appropriate. Scaramouche is a character with layers of complexity that require careful consideration to properly tease apart, and I don’t pretend this is something I’ll do successfully at every opportunity, but here is an attempt nonetheless.
SPOILERS: Husk of Opulent Dreams lore, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinocchio(?), The Phaethons’ Syrtos, The Very Special Fortune Slip, and Omnipresence Over Mortals.
[3.2] Haypasia, the Irodori Warehouse Thief, and the Rather Aged Notes
or, We Have the Raiden Gokaden Downfall All Wrong Part 3 AND a Part 2 to this post.
Hello. I have returned. Here is a quick and dirty theory of how the plundered Rather Aged Notes of Tatarasuna, the attempted robbery of the warehouse containing the Kaedehara Clan’s belongings, and the “secret” Haypasia saw through her connection to Scaramouche’s consciousness are all related incidents pertaining to the same secret.
SPOILERS: The latest Sumeru Archon Quest! MAJORLY! Please don’t read before you finish it in its entirety!
a fun interpretation i got out of the archon quest's last act is that rather than a soul repeating its existence in different bodies, it could be more similar to different actors playing the same roles in a play.
history is a theater that continuously goes through cycles, and the sumeru gang are the ones that have taken over the roles previously played by their counterparts in the past.
not reincarnation per se
nahida is not lord rukkhadevata, they come from the same material (so to speak), but they are independent from one another. my theory used to be that nahida was like a seed from lord rukkhadevata, but it's more like they (as stated in the dialogues) are two branches from the same tree. even though they're made from the same material, they are different. even though they are different, they are made from the same material.
in cyno's case, he (allegedly) made a deal with priest kasala, whose spirit somehow resides within him. this is more of a technical thing, but i'd venture to say that if kasala's spirit still exists then cyno has his own as well. he's become a tool for both kasala and the rules of the akademya, but this conviction is more one of his own.
we don't know what's alhaitham's connection to king deshret, or of there is any at all, so this one is up for debate haha.
nilou's part is more meaningful
nilou's character quest was somewhat an uneventful interlude between archon quests, and she isn't a character that's too involved intellectually or strategically with the conspiracy to rescue the dendro archon, but i think the exposition about the theater she provides is meaningful (and there for a reason).
her final conclusion during the debate with the akademiya guy is that the theater is a means for human connection, for community, for individual and collective progress. this is something that was lost on inayah's father, and something the akademiya sages have long parted ways with in pursuit of a need for unlimited knowledge.
sumeru exists in cycles, a play that bears repetition every time the people of the nation are in danger. and only human connection and team work can save it.
sidenote: fans usually get mad when a female character gets a story quest that isn't as exciting as expected, and this time there were complaints about nilou yet having a crush on traveler, even though her whole quest is about her own job, aspirations and concerns, and there's only one dialogue where she looks up to traveler. sometimes when a creative choice seems out of place it's helpful to take a step back and think about why that choice was made. (besides, nobody complained about cyno and traveler was being called his new partner 5 mins into his quest)
the samsara and dreams
i read a little bit about reincarnation and maya (the fundamental concept that souls are trapped in the material world through life and death until their eventual liberation/nirvana), and in the context of sumeru's archon quest this sounds more like what nahida was going through while trapped by the sages. it's the other way around, in a way, because she's trapped in the immaterial world of her own dreams until traveler helps to her release herself, but she's also only able to become a god when she escapes her physical imprisonment and once she allows herself to feel anger for what has been done to her.
because i always have to bring him up
i think in a way scaramouche is also trapped in his own cycle of immaterial illusions, just that his prison is one formed by his own past. he's trapped himself (quite literally) in a giant mecha with a stolen gnosis, and he will only liberate himself from these constraints when he can wake up from the cycle.
he used to call himself kunikuzushi, meaning destroyer of nations, an antagonistic role in kabuki theater that he has fulfilled accordingly in sumeru, but is this really his true self? when all of it was achieved with borrowed clothes? the gnosis didn't belong to him, the mecha was built by dottore to conduct an experiment and would host knowledge forcefully extracted from humans, the sages even intended to copy lord rukkhadevata's memories into him.
from HoOD lore
It is a norm in Inazuma's traditional theater to join the names of a play's three acts together to form the play's name.
For example, "Sumirezome," "Sangetsu," and "Kogetsukan" come together,
Thus forming the play "Sumirezome Sangetsu Kogetsukan."
Perhaps a day will come when this body's adventures, its experiences,
Will become tales to be passed along by mortals, distant memories that flow through the ley lines.
But for now, his third act is still ongoing.
perhaps when this act is over, he'll be able to play a role more authentically, perhaps he won't be playing any role at all.
but at least we know he's going into it with the name of "wanderer".
To give some context on this theory, this idea sprang to mind when I came across a twitter post sharing an entry from Honey Hunter World detailing an unreleased 4th volume to the "Customs of Liyue" book. The volume in particular talks about Glaze Lilies in a historical and cultural context. The information presented within made me think of this theory:
"Could Guizhong have been a Seelie?"
After doing some researching, I've come to conclude that it has a high likelihood of being true! So to explain this, I will discuss it in this order:
Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers are of similar descent
Seelies and their similarities with the two
With that laid out, let's take a look at...
Part 1. Guizhong and the Flower Goddess
Firstly, let us establish who they were and what they did during their life.
Guizhong
The God of Dust, Guizhong, was one of the founding deities of Liyue. Originally, she took dominion over an area now known as the Guili Plains together with Morax. She was incredibly kind and wise, and took great interest in machinery.
During her reign, she taught the people under her protection how to live and survive. In particular, she taught them agriculture. She also had 4 wise tenets whom the people of the Guili Assembly followed:
"To unite in ambition is to be steadfast and immovable for all time."
"Wisdom is like water, it nourishes all those who receive it and in it is a reflection of the truth."
'"Fortify the bones, that movement be supple when the time comes."
"Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever"
Guizhong is heavily linked to Glaze Lilies, and seems to have been the one who created them! This is mentioned in the unreleased volume of "Customs of Liyue"
Disclaimer: the photo above is unreleased content from the game. it's been at least a year since it was leaked, but they've not added it after all this time so please take it with a grain of salt.
"[Guizhong] released glittering blue seeds from her long sleeves, scattering them over the Guili Plains."
Here are other instances of Guizhong being linked to Glaze Lilies:
The Goddess of Flowers
As of version 3.2, not much is known about the Goddess of Flowers yet. The specific details we do know are highly suspect however.
The Goddess of Flowers was one of the 3 wise God-Kings who co-founded Sumeru thousands of years ago. She was also the first among the 3 to die via unknown means.
She had several titles such as "Mistress of Dreams", "Lord of Flowers", "Mistress of Dreams and Oases". It seems that her abilities did not just stop at proliferating flora, she calmed people's minds and produced flowing water from her sleeves.
She and the Lord of Deserts established Ay-Khanoum, the city of Jinn and the Moon. Following her death, Ay-Khanoum dissolved into smaller societies.
She was also affiliated with the Padisarah flowers.
The Connection
So now, to summarize the info, let's take a look at the similarities between Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers! In essence, both of them were:
Gods who were known for their wisdom and gentle nature. They got along with 2 other god friends.
Gods who co-founded an ancient human society along with their god friends.
In possession of esoteric knowledge and guided mankind.
Both the first to die among their god friends, which was followed by a calamity that damaged their established civilization.
Associated with a flower that became rare or extinct following their deaths.
Seeing this now, it's very unlikely that their connections could be mere coincidence, no? After all, their stories went exactly the same save for a few variables like geography.
Hence, I'd like to propose that this is Hoyoverse telling us there's something about them that may be crucial. What struck me as odd about the unreleased volume were several moments that are only ever seen in the Sumeru!
Referring to Guizhong and Morax as "God-Kings"
A god proliferating a certain type of flower across a large area.
Suffice it to say, I think it was very intentional that Hoyoverse decided to remove this before we got any more proper Goddess of Flowers lore. I'm doing a minor prediction that we may come across this volume officially some time in the future.
So.. why try to connect Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers? Well, this is important in proving Guizhong's origin as a Seelie, as we shall see in...
Part 2. Seelies and Such, Silly or Similarity?
Before we tackle the meat of this speculation, let's set up one last assumption to make our case. This assumption being:
"The Goddess of Flowers was a Seelie"
While it's only been teased at, it's been hinted quite enough to make it pretty much true.
Arama, during the Aranyaka storyline, mentions a survivor of the Seelie calamity befriending King Deshret and Rukkhadevata.
Nilou mentions her costume being based on the Goddess of Flowers' clothing. This includes a pair of horns that are also seen in Seelies.
The Goddess of Flowers is associated with the Moon. The 3 Moon Sisters were said to have lived alongside the Seelies.
So now, given the trail Hoyoverse has given to connect Guizhong and her, do we see such similar traits? As it turns out, yes!
Floral Resemblance
The first comparison I'll be making concerns the similarities with flowers.
Within the game, there is another flower that behaves and looks similar to the Glaze Lilies that Guizhong are linked to. This flower is the Nilotpala Lotus.
Both flowers, aside from sharing the same color scheme, have the peculiar behavior of only blooming at night. In other words, when the Moon is out. The Nilotpala Lotus, in particular, was produced by the Moon Sisters as they stepped on the earth.
So now, we've connected Guizhong and the Moon Sisters through parallels in their respective flowers. But this doesn't reflect the qualities seen in the Padisarah. Why not?
It's because haven't seen the real Padisarahs. The ones we encounter are just mimicries done by Rukkhadevata. This is similar to how Glaze Lilies are now almost exclusively cultivated in farms. The only reason they still live in their endangered state is due to Morax's influence.
Seelie Service
Moving on, Guizhong also bears a striking resemblance to how Seelies guided humans. Simply, Seelies used their obscure knowledge to help mankind develop many things.
This is eerily similar to Guizhong's actions, as well as her 4 philosophical commandments, no?
"To unite in ambition is to be steadfast and immovable for all time."
"Wisdom is like water, it nourishes all those who receive it and in it is a reflection of the truth."
'"Fortify the bones, that movement be supple when the time comes."
"Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever"
I think it's not strange to see how all of her tenets mention nature and complex concepts like time or truth to convey how to strengthen her people's bonds. Not to mention, it's mentioned repeatedly how beautiful Guizhong was.
With this in mind, I think it's safe to say Guizhong at least has done things similar to Seelies. Additionally, she is one of the only deities who have been shown to possess so many traits similar to them.
Now, Guizhong being associated closely with the Moon Sisters puts into question her status as "God of Dust". Why dust? To this, I introduce this piece of information found within Moonpiercer as well.
I am also theorizing that, while Seelies may not be of the same lineage as the Moon Sisters, they posses traits that are found within them!
Titillating Titles & More Similarities
Let's use the Goddess of Flowers as an example. We know that she is not simply just a Flower Goddess. Ironically, it seems as though producing flowers is just something she happened to also do. Many descriptions of her focus on her ability to give dreams and produce water.
In other words, the titles they got as gods are merely one facet of their being, compared to other gods like Marchosius, Boreas, Decarabian, and even some of the archons.
Just as the Goddess of Flowers possesses traits found in the Moon Sisters (flowers, water, dreaming), Guizhong also exhibits these qualities (esoteric wisdom, agriculture, dust).
Something I forgot to mention is Volume 2 of 'Records of the Gallant'. In it, not only do we see Guizhong being mentioned, she is also depicted alongside Glaze Lilies, the starry sky, AND Seelies.
Something I also just realized in the making of this theory is the mirrored descriptions of Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers' appearances. One of these was the matter of sleeves.
They are the only gods to my knowledge to have ever used their sleeves as part of their powers. Guizhong sent forth Glaze Lily seeds from her sleeves, while the Goddess of Flowers poured fresh water from hers.
Also, the color of their clothing reference each other's flowers. Guizhong wears an indigo robe, which resembles the Padisarahs. The Goddess of Flowers, if Nilou's dress is to be trusted, wore blue and white clothes, resembling Glaze Lilies.
Part 3. In Conclusion
Given how many elements about Guizhong matches the Moon Sisters, Seelies, and especially the Goddess of Flowers, it's incredibly hard to now just look at these examples as happenstance, ya know?
I originally researched this topic because of Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers' parallels in sleeves, but the more I looked into it, the more apparent the parallels became.
From their wisdom to their flowers, it just makes too much sense for me!
So here's the scenario that I'm proposing to end this theory:
A long time ago, when the nation of the Seelies and Moon Sisters fell into ruin, many perished from the disaster. Despite this, a number of Seelies managed to survive. They descended upon the earth in different parts of Teyvat, some even in the area now called the Dark Sea.
Two of these Seelies, each of whom resembled the Moon Sisters in beauty and ability, landed far from each other. And though their stories would deviate in some ways, their fates aligned nonetheless.
She who wielded the irrational wisdom of dreams established a thriving nation in the scorching desert, and she who wielded the rational wisdom of technology did the same amidst the rocky landscape. When they perished, their nations would suffer tremendously.
One of their friends would mourn and change his personality drastically, and another would sacrifice themselves, reverting into a smaller, weaker form.
The flowers that they oh so cherished would almost be wiped away, but friendship gives way to preserving your legacy.
Part 4. Closing Remarks
If you, the one reading this right now, have managed to make it all the way to the end of the post, give yourself a pat on the back!
My name is Noxis, and this marks my first, official post on Tumblr! This is part of a personal project I'm doing to interact with the Genshin Community, and it also serves as my first time actually visiting Tumblr regularly!
If you did read all of this, please excuse my way of organizing and discussing as I'm pretty new to the platform. I'll be sure to learn along the way however, and with it more Genshin lore speculations and theories >:))
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