#Genshin x you

[augustinewrites]

in the years that you've known navia, you've come to know her as an extremely capable detective. not one stone goes unturned in her search for clues or answers— which she always gets.

this particular skill set makes her an extremely terrifying gossip.

so normally you'd be thrilled to meet her for your weekly tea, during which she shares the surprising secrets and hidden motives she's unearthed around fontaine.

until it's your turn under her magnifying glass.

"so how long have you been secretly bedding duke wriothesley?"

"archons, navia." you whisper harshly, glancing around the cafe to make sure no one heard. "you can't just say things like that!"

"what? it's just an innocent question!" she defends, though that spark in her eyes is anything but.

"do you have to ask when half of fontaine is within earshot?"

"better clear the air while they're all listening then," she teases, tapping her ear. "because i heard it from clorinde, who heard it from the traveler, who heard it from sigewinne, who said she heard the two of you—"

just when you're starting to feel like you need a lawyer present, the barista calls next, granting you a much needed path of escape.

"hi," you start, ignoring navia's protests. "i'll have—"

"vanilla latte," a familiar voice finishes next to you. you can practically hear the smirk on wriothesley's lips.

"yes," you confirm. "and an—"

"almond croissant," he finishes proudly, lik he's aced some sort of test. "the order's on me."

"oh no," you argue, defiance jumping as he pulls out his wallet. "i have my own money."

he nudges your hand aside. "i'm sure you do, but i want to use mine."

you push back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes when he interlocks his pinky with yours. "well i don't want you to."

"stubborn," he tuts, dipping his head down and angling his broad, sturdy frame toward you. "do you want me to beg? i know you love it when i'm down on my knees in front of you."

your face is suddenly hot. at the memory of the last time he'd been on his knees, and with embarassment when navia makes an amused noise behind you.

"fine," you huff, hoping you don't look as flustered as you feel as you pull your hand away. you don't want to draw anymore attention than you already have, and having the fortress of meriopide's warden on his knees in front of you is something you're sure you'll never recover from. "then i'll take one of every pastry you have today, please."

the barista looks at wriothesley, who's beaming as if he's just won a round in the ring. "fine with me."

once you have the absurd amount of pastries boxed up in your arms — you can already hear the children's squeals when you return to the house of the hearth — you step away with wriothesley, who looks extremely pleased with himself.

"you didn't order anything for yourself." you state, confused.

he simply shrugs, nonchalant as he tells you, "oh, i didn't want anything. i just came to see you."

---

a few days later finds you throwing wriothesley's bedroom door open, this week's copy of the steambird in your clenched fist.

"wriothesley!"

"un instant, mademoiselle!" he calls, voice muffled through the bathroom door.

so you direct your glare down at the picture of the two of you splashed across the front page in the meantime. this wasn't how everyone was supposed to find out about this thing that wasn't really a thing yet.

"we're in the paper!" you tell him, pacing the floor of his bedroom. "there are pictures of us under the headline 'duke wriothesley: finally tamed?' navia is even listed here as a source! she gets her information from clorinde who gets it from the traveler who gets it from sigewinne--"

"headline's not wrong."

wriothesley is leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a towel that's hanging dangerously low on his hips. the whole bulk of him practically fills the space and it's making your head spin.

"what, are you done already?" he asks. "can't ogle me and yell at the same time?"

your mouth snaps shut as you jerk your head to the side. not so much out of embarrassment for being caught staring, but more out of reckless panic. "can you put some clothes on please?"

he makes no move to do so, looking extremely pleased with himself. "you wanted to talk, right? so let's talk."

he takes a step toward you, and you fight the instinct to take one back, wanting to stand your ground. "stop it! you're trying to distract me! we're trying to keep this a secret, you can't just show up at the cafe and--"

"i didn't just show up," he defends. "i fully own that i followed you there. i just wanted to see you and pay for your coffee."

"why?"

"because that's what good boyfriends do."

you shake your head. "you're not my boyfriend."

"really? because i sure felt like your boyfriend when you were making out with me in my office the other night..."

"wriothesley!" you're horrified that he's said that out loud. the corner of his mouth quirks, a look you recognize as satisfied.

no matter where you are in the fortress, the duke always finds a way to intercept you, tucking the two of you into places out of sight. there aren't many, with inmates and guards covering almost every inch of the place. last night you'd had your hands all over each other before the door of his office could even swing shut.

a hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. when had he gotten so close?

"hey, i'm sorry," he murmurs, lips brushing your forehead. "until you're ready, we don't have to be seen together in public anymore. i'll work my contacts at the steambird, get this article pulled."

"thank you," you sigh, leaning into him. "wriothesley, you're not my dirty secret and i never want you to think that. i just...i like what we are right now. and if father finds out..."

"and i'm happy to wait."

in the soft candlelight of his room, the world around you falls away. here, you're not worried what everyone thinks of you. all you can focus on are his eyes are fixed on yours, the corner of his mouth curving upward, and his hand smoothing over the small of your back as he pulls you in.

his towel falls before his lips can touch yours.

you look down, not entirely hating what you see as the duke watches your reaction, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

"stuff of fantasies, huh?"

[m1d-45]

post-mortem

summary: war was not a gentle affair; not to the land, the civilians, the soldiers, or their captain.

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: major spoilers for natlan aq, very very brief mention of canon-typical violence

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

harbingers were not meant to be kind. they were meant to carry out the tsaritsa’s will, and while they were allowed some level of leniency within their methods of doing so, their goal remained firm: fetch the gnosis. if they could manage that, then it was to return home in more or less one piece.

capitano was not in natlan for fun. he had a mission to complete. anything that stopped him was an obstacle to be immediately removed. anything that slowed him was to be brushed off and cut away. for hundreds of years, he had had no problem with this goal, and no problem for what would come after it.

he stationed himself just within natlan’s borders, gathering as much information on the ley lines as he could without stepping on too many toes. he had bided his time patiently, tending to his mechanical heart and the souls within, his plan ready to go as soon as the traveller arrived. carefully reviewed and edited millions of times, paperwork he no longer needed to read to remember the words of. it was the pinnacle of his years on teyvat, his will and testament to the nation he once served.

he held no reservations. he had no doubt, no fear for what was to come. il capitano did not linger.

the captain sat behind his desk, the plain wood empty and unoffensive. there was neither pen nor paper across its surface, all reports having been reviewed just as midnight struck. the only light in the cramped tent was from a lamp in the corner, the flame’s light flickering over the walls and everything held within. outside, the wind whined through the stone of tezcatepetonco range, keeping all words far from listening ears. had he wanted to, he would feel comfortable even listing out his plan to someone he trusted enough to tell it to.

that had been his plan, initially. his tent was nestled deep within the heart of the camp, and he doubted neither his soldiers’ fealty nor their ability to alert him should something go wrong. in the wilds of the land of war, he had forged a sliver of true privacy. any day now, he would receive word that the traveller had finally left fontaine, and his plan would fall into place. every possible failure and fault had long been accounted for; all that was left was to secure that his affairs would be in order after he died.

and with that, you had been called into his office, the summons delivered by an agent with a deep red mask and a voice permanently roughened by illness.

you had been hired young by the fatui, like so many others in their ranks. you were a remarkably ordinary person, in fact; at least by snezhnayan standards. you were born, you starved, you joined the cause. and because the captain made a point of caring after those put under his banner, he let you try to forget the things that happened in between. you came when called and struck when commanded, carrying the same loyalty that marked the rest of his division. you were entirely unassuming, if not for the fact that for some inexplicable reason, it was you that he had called.

there were soldiers with more experience than you. there were soldiers with a more precise control over the elements than you, with a higher kill count, with a broader stature or quicker strikes. you were perhaps not average, but assuredly not him, nor someone fit to manage every loose string.

the only thing you were, for certain, was slumped over his desk, leaning rather uncomfortably on your arm in a way that you’d certainly regret in the morning. normally, he’d never allow such disrespect—this was his tent, after all—but given that you were the one he’d chosen to step alongside him for the past few days, he supposed he could cut you some slack. regular people needed sleep, after all, and the captain was in the habit of protecting those under his banner. as a reward for trekking with him across the country and back and dealing with the combat in between, he would allow you to rest with him as your guard for one more night.

no one person could handle every consequence of the power vacuum that would be left in his stead, and he was not stupid enough to think so. he had informed both the jester and her majesty, but their business was not with inter-platoon affairs. while he may not have to worry about anyone striking when they thought the harbingers were weak, he did have to worry about who would upkeep all of his contacts, monitor the ley and those that resided within them, who would coordinate his troops while they either filtered to the other harbingers or were reassigned to whomever would take his place. it was for this reason that he had spent his tentatively “free” time developing and editing a second plan for when news of his death reached fatui ears. it sat in his pocket, a thin weight he was never meant to hold on to.

he was meant to give it to you. ordinary you, as plain as the uniform over your shoulders, tasked with filling his shoes until the storm passed. you, who he should not be fond of because captains did not have time for such childish things as favorites, and yet your name had refused to leave his mind. no, he was not forced to give command to you in particular, and neither was he made to leave it at all. but war was cruel, and a soldier without a cause was as good as a cart without wheels. he was to reduce his people’s suffering, not impart more upon others. you just happened to be better suited for the job, and he had happened to tell you more about natlan’s ley lines than anyone else. it only made sense that he kept calling on you rather than anyone else, as he could handle any combat anyway. informing you would make your transition to stand-in all the more easier, that was all. there was no place for “kindness” in his crowded heart. “kindness” implied a level of sympathy he did not show, not to any of his troops and assuredly not to you. it was not “kind” to mark you with his death.

he waited until the sun crept above the horizon to move, letting you sleep uninterrupted. you would need a much of it as you could get. he let his chair slide against the floor as he stood, letting that wake you instead of his gauntlets on your shoulders. you snapped to sitting up, but just as fast winced at the knot in your shoulder. “get moving,” he ordered, and you hurriedly apologized, thanked him, and turned to comply. as the wind swept in behind you, he watched you shiver at the sudden drop in temperature, hunching your shoulders high and walking quickly.

for just a moment, his mind briefly drew the idea of giving you his coat. he discarded the idea as soon as it came, pushing his chair back into place and following you out, running through today’s agenda.

his last wishes would be dealt with another day.

[illyabata]

diluc x subby f!reader

content: nsfw but not explicit/descriptive writing (lots of talk of dynamics and preferences i think diluc would have for intimacy), vanilla diluc and reader at first, ur married, dom/sub dynamics, soft dom/service top diluc, talk of kids at the end, bratty reader, hint of breeding kink at the end as well if you squint and if you want to interpret it that way. diluc is really just an upstanding gentleman i love him very much and want to marry a man like him someday

diluc is one character i feel strongly to be a taker of zero risks with intimacy—neither would he enjoy such risks if he were to partake. to him, the act of sex is reverent, the purest display of love between him and his partner. never should that act be tainted by fear of discovery, discomfort, or shame.

diluc would want his lover to feel completely safe and secure during such vulnerable moments. i think he’s generally very “vanilla”, and that’s not a bad thing at all. he just enjoys making you feel loved in the most intimate way, and to him, that way is in the setting of a bedroom, lights dimmed, without the company of any other save for his beloved. his favorite position is missionary, of course it is—he can see you, see your face, kiss you silly, all while protecting you from the world. he’s the perfect husband for a pillow princess, truly—just lay down and let him do all the work, sweetheart. he’d be happy to indulge in anything new you suggest, but i feel that a relationship with diluc is steady, conservative, and gently paced, as he is so very much a gentleman. should you desire to explore more, he would never stop you, but his own desires tend to remain consistent. if you are content, he is content.

diluc’s honor and gentlemanly nature will always take precedence over any sexual desire he may harbor for you, however much he may feel. he is simply an honorable man. therefore i feel strongly that he cannot even will himself to think of doing anything promiscuous with you in any sort of public setting, no matter how hidden it may be, and no matter how much he may want you, or how much you want him. it’s not comfortable, and it’s not appropriate—it’s just not his jam. i think that is probably his only hard ‘no’ when it comes to things you may ask for. he will take you home swiftly if he is able, or you will both simply endure the yearning until night falls.

i think the furthest he’d stray into kinky territory is dom/sub dynamics (this is surprising to no one). really anything where he gets to be the protector, the guiding hand, the gentle touch with a firm grip—he’s the definition of a soft dom. his demeanor is too gentle, his heart too bleedy, his soul too pure, to do anything other than love you sweetly unless you should explicitly ask for something else.

for example, if you ask him to be meaner, rougher, or crueler, i honestly think he’d be quite perplexed, and it would take him some time to adjust to the idea. that’s definitely not something to spring on him in the moment. it goes against his nature, to be honest, because he could never imagine bringing harm or even risk of harm to someone he loves so much, whether that harm be physical, mental, or emotional. diluc would have to mull over it for a while before he’s able to approach you and say he’s ready if that’s something you would enjoy, because if it’s for you, he’d try anything. once it happens and he gets into it, oh i think he’d be into it—it’s just not something he ever would have known he’d like unless you bring it up, because he is naturally selfless in love.

the diluc soft dom to hard(er) dom pipeline is crazy cause when he gets the okay from you to be firmer, he naturally takes on that role as if it was made for him, and he remains a service top through everything. his pleasure comes second to yours, and that’s how he has always operated (which also makes for very interesting flip dynamics whenever he gets desperate👁️). if you ask for him to be firm, if you tell him you want him to be in control, that you want to submit to him, that you want him to be strong, to guide you, to take what he wants?

he’s putty.

he’d ask you several times if you’re sure. if that’s really what you want. when you say yes, it is, i’m telling you that it is—he’s still rather nervous at first. at first he wonders if he even knows what he wants, because he’s always so focused on what you want.

but truly, what he wants is just to love you in a way that is safe and comfortable for the both of you. if you are pleasured, he is pleasured. that’s honestly the baseline for anything he ever does.

perhaps, though, just once, he can focus on his own pleasure a bit more. you’ve given him the explicit go-ahead, many times, and even asked for him to be rougher, after all.

so he becomes more truly dominant, giving you more directions, and asking for more from you. he even takes, sometimes, and he has never taken anything before. it makes you feel very giddy.

his new firmness opens up the opportunity for you to explore being bratty. you’ve found yourself becoming increasingly playful, while he remains rather stoic and hard-assed as he learns to deal with you, and you love it—you know he does, too, because he has told you. taming you is a nice fun precursor to the intimate and very romantic missionary sex that you two will have.

and if you’ve talked about kids in your marriage before, this is the point where a hidden desire will finally emerge in him.

he really wants kids. more than he let you realize before. and he really wants to get you pregnant. like whenever you’re ready, he is rearing to go. as soon as you give him consent, he is more needy and wanton than you’ve ever seen before. he takes more, manhandles you, and loves you firmly, and it’s literaly awesome sauce : 3

sorry lost my energy to write more and forgot how to be serious : 3 just got inflicted with the diluc brainrot for a solid 45 minutes and got the urge to write about it bc i for some reason was thinking about people having public-ish/risky sex and how i would never be comfortable with that personally for multiple reasons . and then i thought about diluc and i was like oh my glorious king he’s like a mr darcy dreamboat i swear ugh anyways

[apteryxparvus]

where the dragon sleeps pt. 2

Pairing — Neuvillette / Female Reader

Word count — 4,483

Content warning — none

Summary — In a crumbling Fontaine, a former Treasure Hoarder stumbles upon a hidden lake and awakens a sleeping dragon.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII

Part II

“Who—who are you?”

The man doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze sharpens into yours, unblinking. “Are you the one who awakened me from my slumber?” he asks, his voice rough, as if it hadn’t been used in centuries.

You don’t reply; your instincts scream at you to stay on guard, so you stay rooted on the spot, ready to defend yourself if he dares step any closer. The blade’s cool edge presses harder against your chest. Your gaze washes over him, scanning for any hint of who—or what—he might be.

That’s when it hits you.

“You… you’re naked,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, voice an octave higher than usual.

The words hang in the air, and the realization makes your cheeks flush. You stumble back a step, your heel catching on the strap of your bag and sending you careening off balance. The world tilts as you fall, landing hard on the damp ground. Pain blossoms along your backside.

“P—pervert!” you shriek, cry echoing across the quiet lake and startling a flock of birds. They scatter into the sky, wings rustling the trees as they escape.

The man doesn’t flinch. He tilts his head, assessing you. “But you’re just mortal,” he murmurs, sounding almost surprised. His words are directed at you; they’re spoken as if to himself.

The sheer audacity of it all sends a flare of irritation through you. You scramble to your feet, reading your dagger—he’s unarmed and vulnerable—and you lunge forward, aiming the blade to his chest.

The lake reaches you before you can take another step.

The water ripples unnaturally, as if alive, responding to some unseen, silent command. Tendrils of water rise, twisting through the air like serpents. In an instant, they coil around your wrists, their grip cold and unyielding. The dagger slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground at your feet.

“I would advise against that,” the man says, tone calm and measured, as though he’s merely commenting on the weather.

“Let—let me go!” you shout, trashing against the restraints. You glance down, heart pounding as the tendrils tighten, pulling your hands apart. Every muscle in your body screams to resist, but the water’s grip is unrelenting, an elemental force far beyond your control.

The man remains still, expression unreadable. His silence unnerves you.

“What do you want?” you demand, voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

He doesn’t answer immediately, his piercing eyes are fixated on you. “It was you who I saw beneath the water,” he states. His words feel like a verdict.

He takes a measured step forward, and the water, as if responding to his will, loosens its hold. The biting sting eases, but the slick, cold sensation continues to linger against your skin.

“You reek of mortal blood,” he continues. “And yet… I sense a tumultuous power buried deep within your soul.”

A shiver races down your spine. His words are absurd, completely nonsensical even—you’ve spent enough time around treasure hunters and their ale-soaked tales of Old Fontaine to know nonsense when you hear it. Yet something in his tone—the absolute conviction he speaks with—it all unsettles you.

“What are you even talking about?” you snap. Annoyance bubbles to the surface, defying the fear gripping you. You’re restrained, at the mercy of a stranger, yet somehow his dismissive words irritate you more than the tendrils biting into your skin.

“And—and before you take another step closer,” you blurt, “how about not parading completely naked?”

To your surprise, his expression falters. He blinks once, then again. Slowly, his gaze drops to his unclothed form for the first time.

There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“Ah,” he finally says. “My appearance… I see it has startled you.” There’s a brief pause as his gaze flickers down, a faint trace of contemplation crossing his face. “I apologize if it offends. I have not had the need to observe mortal customs for… some time.”

A tail—long and smooth, with scales shimmering in the light—lifts and curls around his waist. The tip coils around his front, barely offering some semblance of modesty.

“However,” he continues, voice almost apologetic, “I am unable to procure the garments you desire.”

You groan, the tension in your shoulders snapping under the weight of his matter-of-fact tone. “Then let me go, and I’ll get you something!” you bite out, jerking your head toward the watery restraints still coiled around your wrists.

His head tilts ever so slightly, silver hair cascading like silk over his shoulder. The seconds stretch, and your pulse quickens under the weight of his gaze. Then, with an almost invisible motion of his fingers, the tendrils of water begin to loosen. They unravel from your wrists, trailing down, before pooling at your feet. For a moment, the water glistens there, alive with faint ripples, before slinking back to the lake like a snake returning to its den.

You stumble a step back, cradling your raw wrists. “Thanks,” you mutter begrudgingly, though the word feels sour on your tongue. His calm demeanor grates on you in a way you can’t explain. “I’ll grab you some clothes,” you say, glancing toward your bag. “But only if you promise not to hurt me—and actually explain what the hell is going on.”

“I do not intend to harm you,” he promises solemnly.

As you dig through your bag, you feel his gaze press on you again. Whatever strange situation you’ve unfortunately stumbled into, one thing is clear—he needs to be dressed before you can even begin to process what’s happening (or decide to run for your life).

Your fingers skim over scraps of cloth and hard edges of tools, until they finally land on something. You pull out a faded beige shirt, soft from wear and frayed along the edges, and a pair of loose, patched trousers. You hesitate, eyeing the stains and uneven stitching, then glance at him.

But in the end, it’s not like he’s in any position to be picky.

“These’ll have to do,” you mutter, thrusting the clothes towards him, eyes averted.

His fingers brush against your as he takes them—a fleeting touch that feels impossibly cold. He holds up the shirt, inspecting it with an air of detachment. A moment later, he turns and strides into the shadows of a nearby tree.

You exhale sharply, shoulders sagging as the oppressive tension in the air eases just a bit; you allow yourself to breathe. But when he steps back into the light, adjusting the last button on the shirt, the air rushes from your lungs once again.

It’s not that he’s unattractive—in fact, it’s far from it. 

The problem is how utterly unflattering and ill-fitting the clothes are. The shirt clings to his chest, stretched over lean, defined muscles. The sleeves barely reach his elbows, and the hem hangs inelegantly above his hips. But it’s the trousers that draw your eye. They hang awkwardly on his hips, at odds with his long, sleek tail extending from behind him—the tail that has now changed, not entirely solid, faintly translucent and flowing as though it’s made of water itself.

You can only stare, your mind caught somewhere between horror and mortification. 

He notices your gaze. “Are these garments unsuitable?”

You snap your mouth shut, suddenly aware that you’d been gaping. “No! They’re fine,” you say quickly, the words tumbling out more defensively than you intend. “It’s just—they’re a little... small.”

“Small,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if testing the word. “They suffice. I am unaccustomed to such attire, but they will do.”

You tear your eyes away, heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You bury yourself in your bag again, busying your hands to keep from looking at him. “Good. Great. Haha. Let’s just... move on.”

Behind you, his voice hums low.  “You seem unsettled. Is something wrong?”

“No,” you blurt, shoving your belongings into your pack with a bit too much force. “Nothing’s wrong. Just—don’t rip the shirt, okay?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and gather your thoughts. 

“Now explain,” you say, dropping to the ground with a heavy sigh, and run a hand over your face. “What the hell are you even talking about? What do you mean I woke you up? And— what are you exactly ?” Your fingers brush the hilt of your dagger, but you stop yourself from gripping it when you catch the way his piercing gaze darts to your hand. You leave the weapon be.

“I was placed into what should have been an eternal slumber—a needed sacrifice they said, but perhaps more of a betrayal. Yet, even in that state, I could hear the water’s unrest. The world beyond was shrouded, a void without time.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his tone.

“The unrest persisted for what felt like eternity. Until it vanished. And in its absence, I awoke.” He stops for a moment, his gaze distant. “And when I opened my eyes, it was you I saw, submerged in the lake.”

Your mouth hangs open, but no words come out—his story is more than absurd. “So… you’re saying I just happened to show up and… what? Pulled you out from your nap time?”

“That is correct.” His tail flicks slightly, now even fainter than before. “Whether intentional or accidental, it was your disturbance that allowed me to rise.”

You snort in disbelief, shaking your head. “Fantastic. I can’t even take a swim without throwing nature into chaos—more than it already is.”

“You misunderstand,” he says, voice unshaken. “I believe you were fated to be there. This was, perhaps, inevitable.”

“Inevitable, my ass,” you mutter under your breath. “Great. So now that you’ve had your nap, you can go on with your life and leave me to mine. Let’s just pretend we never saw each other.”

“Unfortunately, that will not work,” he replies evenly. “I believe your fate is now woven into mine.”

You blink at him, alarms blaring in your head. 

You need to get rid of him—and fast. Whatever nonsense he’s spouting, you can’t afford to be part of it. One group trailing after you is already more than enough trouble; you don’t need a cryptic stranger adding to the pile.

He doesn’t give you the chance to argue. “Now that I am awake, I sense the cries of the primordial waters more acutely. Fontaine has fallen into ruin.”

You nod slowly, your mind racing to make sense of his words. “...And you can sense the water because...?”

He meets your gaze, his expression grave. “I am the Hydro Sovereign—the custodian of the waters.”

The title hangs in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare. Of course. Of course , the stranger in the too-small shirt, with a honey-sweet voice like an ancient ballad, just had to be some grand, mythical being. Your life couldn’t possibly get any simpler, could it?

“Mhmm,” you mumble dumbly, nodding as if to humor him. “Yes... you’re the Hydro ... Sovereign ,” you repeat, deliberately drawing out the last two words like they’re foreign and need extra processing. “An ancient dragon... yes, of course.”

You don’t wait for his response, refusing to entertain any more of his outrageous claims. You stand abruptly, brushing the dirt off your hands. “Listen, sure, this whole lake thing was weird. Okay, maybe it was the weirdest thing that’s happened to me recently—if not ever—but I’m done listening to your nutjob ramblings.”

You wave a hand vaguely toward the lake, as if that alone should encompass the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Dragons, fates, cries of water—great story, really. But I’ve got bigger problems to deal with than playing along with whatever this is.”

The water rises again, not as tendrils but one massive, swirling whirlpool. It churns and spirals, and its deafening roar fills your ears. 

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t hurt me!” you tell, stumbling back as you scramble to your feet. You ready yourself to fight—be in with the tiny dagger or your fists—but the wave doesn’t crash down. Instead, it wavers in the air, suspended, waiting for a command from its master.

“I do not wish to harm you. But you must listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” you snap at him, grinding your teeth. “And I call bullshit.”

His gaze sharpens, and then it happens. His eyes begin to glow—a vivid, otherworldly blue. The water surges higher, spilling towards the lake’s edge, and the man’s form starts to shift. His tail solidifies, pulling against his trousers, no longer translucent but gleaming with iridescent scales. His ears elongate into sharper, almost elfin points, and glowing lines—intricate and winding like rivers—illuminate his body, pulsing faintly with a steady rhythm.

“Okay, alright,” you backpedal. “Maybe it’s not all bullshit.”

The whirlpool recedes slightly, its roar subsiding into a quieter churn, but it continues to tremble with latent power. The dragon’s transformation continues, each change more unnerving than the last—the glowing lines stretch further, tracing across his neck and torso, and his arms sport claws faintly tipped with light.

Watching this happen before your eyes feels as though you’re caught in your own unshakable slumber. Everything from the previous night until now—from the strange, unknown constellation in the sky, to the pristine lake that seemed almost too perfect to be real, and the bizarre events beneath its surface—it all feels like fragments of a fever dream.

And now, seeing the man—the dragon—wield these powers with such ease—something no ordinary person, save for the Archon, should be capable of—makes you question everything you thought you knew.

The fragile line between reality and fantasy is beginning to blur, and you find yourself doubting your own sanity.

You’ve spent the past few hours mentally labeling this man a nutjob. A delusional, somehow water-wielding lunatic who somehow crawled out of the lake with glowing eyes and a tail. You’d dismissed his words as the rambling of someone with a few too many screws loose.

But now… now you’re not so sure anymore.

The more you stare, the more you realize the signs are right in front of you, undeniable and impossible to ignore—the way the water rises at his command, responding to his every word as though it’s alive, the transformation you’ve just witnessed.

It’s like a scene straight out of one of those old fantasy tales you used to scoff at, back when you still had the luxury of reading for pleasure.

But it also feels real.

You swallow hard, your throat dry despite the damp air around you. You try to ground yourself, cataloging every little detail you know—about Fontaine, about the power granted to the Archons, about the world you’ve lived in your entire life.

Maybe you don’t know as much as you thought.

Maybe the stories you dismissed as myths and bedtime tales held more truth than anyone realized.

You let out a shaky breath, hands trembling. Your head feels heavy. “Look, this can’t be real. There’s no scientific explanation for any of this,” you murmur under your breath, but the words sound hollow even to your own ears.

“I am as real as the waters that flow through Fontaine.”

His gaze holds a deep, unshakable conviction that makes your doubts feel almost petty in comparison.

And yet, some stubborn part of you clings to your skepticism, your desperate need to rationalize the impossible. “This sounds insane…” you repeat.

“What do you believe then? That your reality has no room for the extraordinary? That what you’ve seen with your own eyes is a mere trick of the light?”

“I don’t know!” you snap. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. None of this makes sense, but yes, here you are, and I can’t explain it, and it’s making me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Reality does not always bend to reason.”

No matter how much you want to write this whole ordeal off as a hallucination or some cruel, extended dream, the scene doesn’t fade.

“Fine,” you bite out. “Fine. Let’s just say—for the sake of argument—that I believe you. That you’re this Hydro Sovereign or whatever. What exactly do you want from me?”

“I do not ask for much,” he begins. “I require your aid in navigating this world. I must see for myself what has become of Fontaine, and restore it back to its previous glory.”

His tone carries the faintest edge of melancholy, and for a moment, you feel it—something ancient, weary, resting beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. But you shake it off, unwilling to be swayed by a flicker of vulnerability.

“And you think I’m the best option for that?” you ask, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “Because you couldn’t have picked a worse guide. I’m barely scraping by as it is.”

“You hold knowledge of this world,” he replies simply, as if that’s all that matters.

You scoff, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips before you can stop it. “Right. So you want me to play tour guide for some ancient dragon who just woke up from a centuries-long nap? Sure, why not? Sounds completely reasonable. And what do I get out of this, huh? What’s in it for me?”

His gaze softens—just slightly. “You fear for your safety,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I offer you my protection.”

“Your protection,” you repeat flatly, gesturing vaguely at him. “Right. Because nothing says ‘low profile’ like a glowing, water-bending dragon man who looks like he stepped out of a fairytale myth.”

You gesture again, this time toward the faintly glowing lines tracing patterns across his body, his translucent tail that moves as though swayed by an invisible current. “You’re not exactly subtle, in case you haven’t noticed. People are going to notice.”

He inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the point. “You are correct. My appearance will draw attention.”

“No kidding,” you mutter, pacing a few steps away from him. You press your fingers to your temples, trying to make sense of the situation, but the more you think about it, the more absurd it feels.

“You’ll need an identity pass,” you say finally, almost to yourself. The words fall out as if your brain has switched to problem-solving mode without consulting the rest of you. “You can’t just stroll into Fontaine looking like that. They’ll arrest you before you even make it to the gates.”

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he watches you with an unnerving stillness, his gaze unwavering as though he’s memorizing every word.

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you. But only until we get you an identity and figure out a way for you to... not look like that. ” You gesture to his entire being, his otherworldly presence that practically screams not human.

“However,” you add sharply, pointing a finger at him, “let’s get one thing straight. You’re talking about ‘usurping’ the Archon’s powers like it’s a casual stroll through the marketplace, and I want nothing to do with that. Once we get you an identity and point you in the direction of the palace, you’re on your own. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good,” you mutter, already regretting every decision that’s led you to this moment.

The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across your spot. The scent of charred meat mingles with the faint, earthy aroma of the forest. You chew slowly on a piece of rabbit, the smoky bitterness of the burnt skin mixing unpleasantly with the sharp, grassy undertones of the herbs you had hastily picked earlier. It’s not the best meal you’ve had, but it’s enough to keep your stomach from growling.

You glance across the fire at the man—he’s perched with an unsettling stillness as he picks at his share of the rabbit. The firelight catches a faint shimmer of his markings; his tail curls loosely behind him, translucent, and the faint ripples of its movement feels almost hypnotic.

You hadn’t asked what he eats. Part of you didn’t want to know if dragons sustain themselves in stranger ways. The rabbit had been a practical decision—easy enough to catch and roast. You had briefly considered fishing in the lake, but you had stopped yourself. Would it feel… wrong? Like some form of semi-cannibalism, considering the man’s supposed deeper connection to Fontaine’s waters?

“Tell me about the Fontaine of today.”

You glance at him, startled, and swallow the last bit of the tough meat in your mouth.

“What do you want to know?” you ask, leaning back slightly, the dull knife resting on your lap.

“Everything,” he replies. “How long has it been? What has become of the land, its people… and the waters?

You exhale softly, fingers brushing idly against the rabbit bone in your hand. “I can only assume it’s been a long time,” you start cautiously. “And Fontaine isn’t what it used to be.”

He doesn’t react visibly, but the faint shift in the air between you is enough to make your skin prickle. 

You continue, your words hesitant. “The waters are polluted,” you say. “Not just the lakes, but the rivers, the seas... everything. It didn’t happen all at once—just years of waste, neglect, greed. Factories dumping drainage, mines leaching toxins into the groundwater, people turning a blind eye because it was easier than fixing the problem.”

You pause, grip tightening around the bone. “And then there’s the Archon. They’re supposed to protect Fontaine, to keep the balance… all that divine nonsense. But... they don’t. Not really. It’s more about power, politics, and appearances these days.”

His gaze sharpens, the glow in his eyes intensifying. You swear you see the faintest ripple across his tail, like a tremor of anger that he can barely restrain.

“They let it happen,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, your tone bitter. “Everyone did. And now... now it’s just the way things are. People don’t even think about it anymore. It’s normal.”

The fire pops, sending a small burst of embers in the air. You decide to focus on the flames, instead of the weight of his stare.

“Why didn’t anyone stop it?” he asks after a long silence.

You laugh humorlessly. “And you think the people didn’t try? There were protests, petitions, people sent daily reports to the court… but none of it really mattered. And then people slowly gave up. Or perhaps some of them just started pretending nothing was happening, after all, it’s easier that way.”

His tail flicks, the motion quick and sharp, sending a faint spray of water into the air. You watch as it evaporates almost instantly in the heat of the fire.

“What about you?”

“Me?” you echo, narrowing your eyes.

“Do you believe this can be undone?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t know,” you finally admit. “It’s been like this since I can remember. Fixing it seems like… a fairytale. Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” he says firmly. His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, you feel like you’re the one being judged.

You snort, shaking your head. “Sure, okay. You just woke up from a centuries-long nap and think you’re going to fix centuries of damage overnight. Good luck with that, Your Majesty.”

“I am not asking for luck,” he replies, his tone unwavering. “Only for time. And your assistance.”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll help you. For now. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not sticking my neck out for you any more than I have to. We’ll get you an identity pass, figure out how to make you look less... noticeable, and then you’re on your own.”

His lips curl faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. “That will suffice.”

“Good,” you snap, stabbing the dull knife into the dirt beside you. “Because I’ve got enough problems without adding ‘possible accomplice to anti-Archon activities’ to the list.”

The last piece of the rabbit is tough, dry, and barely palatable, but you chew through it mechanically, your thoughts drifting in the thick silence that fills the air. The crackling of the fire is the only sound that fills the space between you and him—the strange, unsettling man who, no matter how much you want to ignore it, has become part of your reality now.

“Tomorrow, we set off,” you say, breaking the silence with a weary tone. “We’ll need at least two days to get to the black market camp where I can get us forged identity passes.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, but you sense his attention is still fixed on you, even without needing to look at him.

You pick at the last bit of your meal, distracted by the gnawing emptiness in your stomach and the fatigue of the long day. You're not full, but you cannot stomach anything more. It's been a long time since you felt this physically worn, but the exhaustion is more than just from the journey. It’s everything.

In the quiet, you look up at the sky.

The stars stretch endlessly above, twinkling softly against the velvety blackness. There, in the distance, is that unmistakable dragon-like constellation.

The longer you stare, the more it feels like it’s watching you, almost like it’s tied to you in some strange, unknowable way.

You try to force your mind to focus on something else—anything else—but your thoughts only deepen. A thousand questions race through your mind, ones you can’t shake. What were those fleeting visions you barely remember? What did he mean when he spoke about powers hidden within you? Why were you the one to awaken him? And what will he do when he finally accomplishes his goal?

But you keep your mouth shut. You don’t voice any of these thoughts, don’t ask any of the questions. You don't think you want the answers—not yet.

The exhaustion weighs heavily on you, blurring your vision. You rub your eyes, and when you glance back at him, his presence seems even more surreal in the low light. His form seems somehow larger, more looming, though he’s still sitting calmly, just... watching.

The air grows colder still, the fire flickering and popping. It’s then that you realize your eyelids are heavy, too heavy. You stifle a yawn, curling yourself into a ball near the warmth of the bonfire, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You try to tell yourself that in the morning, it’ll all make sense. Maybe it’s just a dream, a nightmare, and you’ll wake up to find it’s all been a lie.

You give him one last glance before you close your eyes, the flickering light casting strange shadows on his face, his features unreadable. His tail ripples faintly behind him, and for a moment, you almost imagine it’s the wind, but it’s not. It’s him.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, the words falling from your lips almost automatically.

He says nothing in return. But you feel his gaze linger.

And with that, sleep finally takes you.

Author's note: i wrote so much this week and like 99% of it was for my lab report

if i have to look at another pic of contaminated mammalian cell culture (MY POOR BABIES 😭😭😭) i might just set the lab on fire

[tealfates]

welcome!! how about kinich or scara(or anyone , its your choice ofc!) x reader hurt/comfort with an insecurity of your choice where they finds you staring into a mirror? hehe anyways good luck and now i can proudly say supporting since day 1!

-anonnie, hope to talk to you soon!

Kinich x Reader comfort <3

When it was rainy season in Natlan, everything felt dampened, muddy, and that’s how your spirits felt today, after a particularly difficult training you had pushed yourself through. The clouds overhead grew heavier by the second.

The clouds overhead grew heavier by the second. Even as they did, the storm that raged inside you seemed louder than anything the heavens could muster. You found yourself inside the bathroom of you and Kinich’s shared home, knuckles gripping the cool tile of the sink tightly as you faced yourself in the mirror, silent tears streaming down your face, almost in sync with the raindrops pattering down on the windows.

Why had everything felt so overwhelming? Why did it seem like no matter how hard you tried and trained to become better, to help fight off the abyss for Natlan, you were never good enough? You buried your face in your hands, the weight of your emotions threatening to pull you into the darkness of the abyss itself.

It was then that a soft but steady voice broke through the storm—both the one outside and within.

"Are you alright?"

You looked up, not noticing that Kinich had been standing in the doorframe, and you hadn’t realized that he had approached, footsteps silent as usual. His eyes, holding a special softness reserved only for you, looked at you with concern, his usually stoic expression now etched with subtle worry.

Kinich, always strong, calculating, useful to Natlan, didn’t deserve to witness your weakness and pitiful fit. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

"I… I’m fine," you whispered, voice shaky, though the lie tasted sharp on your tongue.

Kinich was quiet for a moment before stepping closer, his presence grounding and gentle. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The rain outside was beginning to fall heavier now, thundering against the glass pane, but you felt safe in his arms.

"You’re not fine," he said softly, his voice almost a murmur against the backdrop of nature's fury. "I can tell."

His simple touch was warm and grounding, and it made the tears start flowing again—this time, without shame or hesitation.

"I'm sorry," you whispered through the sobs that wracked your chest. "I don't want to burden you with this…"

"You’re not a burden,” Kinich said, his voice steady, yet filled with an undeniable gentleness. You proceeded to bury your face in the fabric of his shirt, stealing his warmth with gratefulness.

Kinich remained with you without question, without judgment—just with an unspoken understanding. His hand stroked your hair softly, the motion reassuring and kind.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his breath warm against the crown of your head as he placed a soft kiss there. “Whatever it is, it’s alright to cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Everything feels so overwhelming,” you choked out. “I don’t know if I can keep up anymore with everyone. They’re all fighting hard to defend Natlan, and I’m failing, no matter how hard I try to fight.”

Kichin’s grip tightened around you, and he pulled you back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re not failing,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You’re allowed to have moments like this. We all are.”

You stared at him, breath hitching in your chest as his words sunk in.“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to fall apart like this,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Kichin replied with a gentle smile, though his eyes remained serious. “You’re human. You deserve to let go, to lean on someone when you need it.”

You cried until there were no more tears left to shed, knowing that you didn’t have to face the world alone.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving nothing more than droplets on the windows, as you tilted your head up to face him. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice steady now.

He gave you a rare, soft smile in return. “Anytime.”

———————

authors note~: thank you so much anonnie! Glad to see you here from day 1 <3 I appreciate you so much!! On a different note y’all how do people get their stuff so aesthetic?? istg I need like a tumblr parent to teach me how to do this stuff hahahaha

[reocidal]

FILM DIVA!

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS alhaitham gets hit by one (1) (soft) (cardboard) popcorn bucket, one (1) instance of swearing. romcom ish? vibes?

WORD COUNT 703

AUTHOR'S NOTE um. haha whats this @phantasmaebg

ALHAITHAM has always lived his life in black and white, clear cut rules and a perfect routine. he has no need for the mundane "joys" of everyday life, or whatever kaveh's been harping about most recently. he'd made that clear to himself — and everyone else — on his first day at the akademiya. he's skipped lunch dates and dinner dates and movie dates and hangouts with his friends (they're not his friends, he says) in lieu of studying more. black and white, study and sleep, that's all he needs in his life.

he thinks it's only fitting that you waltz unapologetically into his life, whimsical splashes of colour and noise as a sick sort of karma afterwards. you're loud and bright and your blood (he assumes) is liquid rainbows and you're everything he isn't. you're also dragging him to a movie theatre right now, and he really doesn't want to go.

there's a permanent scowl etched onto his face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie. you'd told him to dress casual, and then gone through his entire closet when he'd opened the door in something appropriate only for the most depressing and sombre of funerals. after a lengthy consultation with "the committee", as you claimed — he thinks you just spoke to the other voices in your head — you'd come up with the most casual of outfits possible in his (rather hopeless) case. a dark hoodie, and even darker jeans.

"seriously, dude, get something nicer," you'd grumbled, and he'd glared at you in response, but the mental note was still made.

you're quite the contrast to him — what colour even is this? chartreuse? whatever you're wearing is absolutely hideous and would make anyone wearing it look even worse, but not you. never you, apparently. he really hates his brain, but you're positively glowing in this lettuce-coloured garbage bag.

the movie is boring; he prefers to look at you instead — though he'd never say that out loud. the micromovements of your face, the expressions that you make, bathed in the ever-changing multi-coloured light of the screen — it's all a thousand times more intriguing than whatever's going on in the film.

halfway through the film, you turn to him accusingly. "you're not paying attention!"

"i am," he protests, although without any effort to actually oppose your claim. you raise an unconvinced brow and he shrugs. "not that this needs a lot of attention to be given in order to be understood. it's quite simple, actually."

"that's one of my favourite movies ever," you snort. "you shouldn't insult people like that, you shit!"

how does he fix this?

"or consider," he begins, smooth, placating. "the simplicity of the film is the exact reason why it appeals to you. it provides you the comfort that you yearn for without making you feel the discomfort of having to use your brain."

"are you calling me dumb, alhaitham?"

he grimaces. "no, y/n, you're very smart. really."

unfortunately, he also accidentally uses his comfort unruly children voice and not his i am being sooo serious voice.

your empty popcorn carton hits him square in the jaw. he picks it off the floor (no littering!) and rubs his face with his free hand. "this was somewhat unnecessary, don't you think, y/n?"

"thanks for the heads up," you reply, rather unremorsefully. "it'll probably happen again."

he's never been happier to be alone with you, he decides. better to be embarrassed alone than in front of an audience. wait, technically he's the audience here, right? how confusing; he hates to think about it. the rest of the movie passes rather uneventfully — he pays a little more attention than before, and you tone down the physical violence to only one or two jabs that you declare are accidental. (he knows they're not.) on the way home, you buy him an ice pack and a meat stew: PIZZA edition; 40% off! as an apology.

back at home, alhaitham thinks it over and decides that he does not hate you at all. after all your antics today, it concerns him tremendously. surely… surely not. he doesn't do romance; this is impossible! yet, a pale flush spreads across his face all the same.

© reocidal 2024

[parlamiamore]

the recognizable pattern of a waltz / neuvillette

summary: the annual fontaine masquerade ball has arrived and the city is in a frenzy. it had been revealed by reporter charlotte that monsieur neuvillette is intending to start searching for a partner, and everyone wants a chance to dance with him. and yet, he falls for the person who feels least interested in dancing.

pairing: neuvillette x male!reader

a link to the playlist i created for this fic is here

The news had been plastered on every morning edition of the Steambird. The ladies and gentlemen were bustling with the news. Monsieur Neuvillette was searching for a partner! How had Charlotte gotten it out of him? No matter what she had, it was the biggest story Fontaine had seen since the water levels receded. And that was almost a year ago now. The world had moved on and kept turning as the Traveler had turned their eyes away from the nation of Hydro and focused on their next destination. You had seen them off the day they set out for Natlan, sharing tear-stained hugs and gentle words of encouragement. Their journey was more than halfway over, and they would be leaving Teyvat soon if all went well. The best goodbyes hurt the most.

Now that Fonatainians had been absolved of their sins, the world had returned to normal. As normal as it could get, anyway. The bakery you ran was flowing with traffic since Charlotte had interviewed the heroes of Fontaine. Your pastries sold out in less than three hours, and patrons nursed hand-crafted mugs of steaming tea under their noses. The life you'd always dreamed of.

"Have you heard the news?" A new patron asked, a fan hiding the bottom half of her face. When you shrugged, she chuckled. You heard. Every eligible person in Fontaine was talking about it.

"Monsieur Neuvillette is searching for a partner!" She almost squealed as you fiddled with your new invention. An espresso machine for brewing drinks that energize. The beans, shipped from Natlan, were a new delicacy Fontaine hadn't been ready for. And you were the only shop in the nation to sell it. A smart move.

"How exciting," you mused. "The usual, Celine?" You were too tired to deal with mindless gossip this early in the morning.

"Oh, yes! Thank you!" You exchanged Mora for a drink, and Celina tittered away like a bird that had just learned to fly. You smiled after her as you let the frothier spray steam. The scent of coffee and tea filled your nose. The smell you could die surrounded by. The way it clouded the mind and made it hazy, yet made your heart pound.

Others might call you crazy, but you believe that the perfect drink could solve any temporary problem. Your theory has yet to be proven wrong.

"If you keep staring at the windows, they'll explode," a voice called from the entrance. You turned your head up, and smiled at who'd entered your cafe.

"Clorinde, I was beginning to wonder if you'd darken my door," your tone was all tease, no malice. The duelist rolled her eyes as she stepped into the cafe proper. A door led to a fine patio that you had built from scratch, with some help from the Traveler and Paimon. Plants spilled off railings, and beautiful wooden tables soaked up the sunlight. It was full, bustling with the sounds of life.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," she chided. "I'm your favourite customer, and we know it." You made a face, pretending to think about it.

"Navia leaves generous tips," you teased, but a single glare from the champion was enough to change your tune. "Okay, okay, you're my favourite." The smile returned to Clorinde's face.

"Your usual? Or are you trying something new?" You asked. Clorinde was a pioneer in creating new drinks and catapulted many famed beverages like Romaritime lattes and rainbow rose tea to success. You owe her your originality, it is far too difficult to be innovative on your own.

"I'll have a black coffee, one sugar, please."

"Didn't sleep well?" You asked as your hands worked through motions you'd done hundreds of times. You could do it with your eyes closed, if you tried really hard. You'd never try, in the interest of not embarrassing yourself in front of paying customers.

"You could say that," she grumbled as you slid the mug across the counter to her awaiting hands.

"Tell me, are you going to the ball?" You groaned.

"Oh, no, not you, too! I swear, that's all everyone talks about!" Clorinde raised her brow at your small outburst. "What about it?"

"I'm being forced to go. Even Wriothesley is attending. It would feel wrong for you not to be present." You smiled at her words. After all this time, the friends you had made when the Traveler stepped onto Fonatainian soil had not abandoned you, as you'd expected them to. People still manage to surprise you.

"What's in it for me?" You asked. You hated social gatherings. All those strangers, all those voices. Too much of everything. For you to go, it had to be worth it.

"I heard rumours that the Palais was looking to cater their next annual meeting, I could put in a good word," Clorinde stated.

"As if Neuvillette wasn't already going to request me?" Your bakery was the only one he trusted the Melusines to go to, and had tried every item to see that it was to their liking. You'd even created a Melusine line of products, perfect for the tastes of the angels of Fontaine.

"I'll owe you a favour." Your brows rose.

"A favour, hm? I couldn't possibly pass that up!" Clorinde rolled her eyes.

"Meet me at the Opera Epiclise at 7 o'clock sharp," she instructed before turning her back on you and strutting out of the cafe.

You sighed and placed your chin on your palms and breathed out. Suddenly, your back straightened.

You needed a suit.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. Music poured out of the front doors, a tantalizing melody that spoke of love and heartbreak. Your suit, freshly tailored by Chiori, had bled your savings dry. Clorinde owes you for this. But, on the bright side, you had a new suit. It fits you perfectly. You'd have to close the shop five hours early to get a suit fitted in time. Luckily, most attendees had organized their outfits weeks in advance, and none were stupid enough to get it done so last minute.

No one except you, that is.

Either way, despite the tuts of annoyance from your tailor friend, you've been fitted to perfection. She'd even done your hair, something she didn't charge extra for.

The large clock in the lobby read 7 o'clock, and you had just made it inside. You spotted Clorinde, Wriothesley, Navia, and Furina milling about by the table you'd curated. Your bakery had been chosen to cater. Many long nights had made such a thing possible. Furina, the dessert lover she was, had two slices of cake in her hands. She spotted you and waved you over with a chocolate lava cake. You didn't hesitate to trot across the room to your companions.

"You came?" Clorinde sounded surprised.

"Couldn't resist holding something over your head," you replied.

"Ah, so that's how she got you to come," Wriothesley mused with a cross of his arms.

"She was very compelling," you shot back.

"I'm so glad you're here! Parties aren't the same without you!" Navia leaned against your arm and beamed up at you.

"Hello Navia," you hummed.

"Is it true that you made all of these desserts?" Furina asked with joy in her eyes. Aside from Clorinde, Furina spent most of her time in your bakery. You had offered her a job, but she refused. Being paid with sweets was enough for the previous Hydro archon. You just hoped word didn't get back to Neuvillette that you were approving unpaid labour.

"Although my social life withers, I did." You'd barely spoken to living humans during that time. Too busy with flour-coated hands and cramps in your legs from working until the sun rose. But the payoff is worth the hit to your sleep schedule. Who needs to sleep when you have coffee?

"You should have let me help you!" Furina raised her voice. No one glanced, far too used to their previous Archon's outbursts.

"It's alright, it was a lot of work, and I technically don't pay you, remember? It's illegal." Furina huffed.

"Oh please, I'm the previous Hydro Archon, I'm sure he'd let it slide." There was no need to ask who the “he” was. The Iudex was fond of the Archon, in how a brother cared for a sister. He’d never let someone take advantage of her, even if that someone was you. Fair to a fault. Or something of the like.

"The fact that you're the previous Archon is why I didn't want you to work," you shot back with a grin. Before the Traveler arrived, you'd thought Furina was pompous and childish, and her voice annoyed you. But, upon learning the true nature of her existence, you'd come to see through the five-hundred-year facade. You considered yourself one of her closest confidants, hoping she thought the same of you. You'd always been told that making friends as an adult was easy, but you'd suffered until recently. Owning a business didn't leave room for socializing.

"You're no fun!" The Archon whined. You only shook your head.

Guests whirled past you in blurs of blues, pinks, reds, and golds. The chandelier overhead sparkled in the reflection of the floor. You'd never had a reason to come to the Opera Epiclese, you'd never been interested in trials until the Traveler came along. Now, justice felt like it meant something. Fontaine was changing for the better.

"I'd love to dance," Navia swooned as the violins changed to an upbeat waltz. The steady thump of a snare echoed through the hall as members of the hive mind of the elite took to the floor with steps they'd been forced to memorize since birth.

"Then join me," Clorinde offered with a gentle smile. Navia took Clorinde's hand gently, like a scene out of a fairytale. The pair pushed into the crowd and vanished among the sea of smiles.

Slowly, though you wished you hadn't noticed, your friends moved away. Either to the floor or to mingle with others whom they hadn't seen for some time. Even Wrio got on the floor, struggling to teach Sigewinne to dance without stepping on his feet.

You've never been one for dancing. Most of your friends knew. They'd learned to stop asking you to join them months ago. Instead, you'd sit near your pastries and exchange pleasantries with people you knew. Then you'd go home and the night would be over. You'd return to reality, and never regret that you hadn't danced.

"You came," a hopeful voice spoke up from your right. Monsieur Neuvillette. You expected to see him, at some point, only briefly. You didn't think he'd scope you out. This masquerade was thrown in his honour; at least, partially. The Dragon that saved Fontaine from the great flood. He was a hero, just as much as the Traveler. And although people didn't know what to make of his status as Sovereign, they left room for him.

"Why does everyone seem surprised?" You asked. "Am I that much of a shut-in?" You knew what people thought of you. The talented baker who worked too much. And that was fine. You had your friends. Not everyone needed to know you properly, you had enough that did.

"You know that's not what I meant," Neuvillette whispered.

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," you replied. That was partially true. Maybe you were swept up in the whispers. Neuvillette was searching for a partner. You wanted to see the fairytale unfold before you, as a bystander. Maybe your business would flourish from their union. More customers would be a good thing. You could afford to hire your first employee if everything went well tonight.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" Neuvillette asked as he took another pastry into his hand. He always treated your creations with a gentleness you'd never seen. Like every bite was precious.

"I'm disappointed by the lack of wine throwing, I was promised at least one public outing of an affair." Neuvillette snorted into his cupcake. The frosting collided with his nose and cheeks. Your hand flew to your mouth in shock as he spluttered. His hand came up to wipe the frosting off the curve of his lip and the tip of his nose.

"It's not too late," Neuvillette replied. You managed a gasp.

"How scandalous!" Your voice dripped with sarcasm. Not many knew how often Neuvillette frequented the opera for things other than trials. He was a fan of the Fontainian opera scene and was always hungry for drama. The less criminal, the better. Drama with no consequences except for those involved. The best kind.

"Balls like this are almost more entertaining than the opera," Neuvillette mused as he grabbed a glass of sparkling water. A special request of his, no doubt.

"They lack a fake death, though," you nodded along with him.

The music changed again. A melody you recognize. One from Mondstadt, if you remember correctly.

"Are you planning to stand here all night?" Neuvillette asked.

"I might spice it up and go stand over there," you replied and pointed to an open set of chairs on the other side of the ballroom.

"Well, then you have no reason to refuse." You furrowed your brows, but Neuvillette silenced you by holding out his hand. You stared at it for a moment.

"You're not going to let me say no, are you?" You asked the Chief Justice.

"You're welcome to say no, but try to be gentle with your rejection." As if you could truly reject him. Like many others in Fontaine, you can appreciate the looks of the Iudex. Anyone with eyes could.

"I suppose one dance couldn't hurt," you relented. Neuvillete didn't hesitate to pull you toward the dance floor. The crowd seemed to move like water as you both moved. Countless eyes flocked to you, and movement seemed to stop.

You tensed. Neuvillette felt it.

"Don't stop on our account," he announced to the hall. Instantly, at his command, the movement started again. You looked at your dance partner.

"Why are they staring?" You asked. Neuvillette took the lead and began to guide you. You weren't sure where he learned to dance, but you hoped he was better than you were.

"People are far too concerned with who I show interest in," Neuvillette responded. Your mouth fell open as he spun you.

"Interest?"

"Oh, you didn't know? I thought I was being very obvious." This was news to you. Your eyes shot to your friends, who were gathered around Charlotte. Her kamera was mounted. Furina smiled brightly, Navia made hearts with her hands, and Wrio shot you a wink.

"No matter, consider this as me making it even more obvious," Neuvillette continued.

"Are you courting me?" You asked, to make sure you weren't imagining things.

"I believe so, yes." Neuvillette dipped you, in perfect form. His hair draped over your face as you stared at him. His cheeks were flushed with warmth, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He was risking his heart by speaking, by breathing too close to you. "Do you accept?" His words fell apart into a gentle whisper. The air rushed over your face.

You needed to speak.

"Of course," you said. You meant it. You meant it a thousand times over. Afternoons chatting about water and tea blends, all the times he came in craving something sweet and a gentle smile, all the times you'd stare at him when he spoke of things he was passionate about. They all hit you like a tram. You were in love with him, weren't you?

Oh Archons help you.

Above you, Neuvillette smiled. And in the background, the rhythm changed into the familiar pattern of a waltz.

[affableramen]

Hiii! I love your writing, it has a nice flow to and fits together so beautifully. I was wondering if you would consider taking this request.

The reader and Pantalone are both in the Fatui. They aren’t exactly in a relationship, but their relationship status is definitely beyond just being acquaintances and even friends. So far beyond that like gossip began to spread around the Fatui and even the public. So basically after all that, the reader decides to distance from Pantalone(about like a month or so idk make however long you want). But then one day he comes to knock on the reader’s office door, and without wanting to cause any scene, the reader lets him in. And honestly from there you can write a range from fluff to nsfw content, either would be fine. Thank you!!!

(Preferably make the reader female)

You knew that sooner or later it would come to public that your and Pantalone’s relationship was not strictly businesslike. Although it started the most professional way, you two being comrades, despite the differences in rank, age and power, still had a potential to bloom into something less conservative and more intimate. Dating a Harbinger obviously had its positive impact, for instance being constantly protected and secured from outer threats. No one would dare to lift their finger at someone who’s standing in a Harbinger’s shadow. Unfortunately the negative sides showed themselves eventually, too. Despite feeling secured and confident in your physical safety, you started having minor inconveniences. Such minor inconveniences only seemed so at first flance, and later they started to grow more and more irritating, causing not only anxiety to you but big distress to the Fatui organisation in general. Not to Pantalone, though – he didn't care.

“Do you spread your legs for every rich businessman or is it only Regrator?” female employees inquired with sardonic smiles. The amount of inappropriate comments like that would only grow with each passing day, and honestly, it slowly became unbearable. 

“I saw them walk together late at night. Can you imagine? Unmarried woman walking with a Harbinger at dark times alone.”

The most infuriating thing about all this was not just their comment, but the truth. In all your relationship period with Pantalone you have never been involved with him sexually! But those fools just wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone. You didn't even know if it had reached Pantalone’s ears, and hopefully it didn't – otherwise you’d die of embarrassment.

One day you lost all your patience and headed to his office. It was time when you’d tell him you wanted a break. “Just a month or two”, you think, “it won’t be forever.”

When you entered his private room and closed the door with a soft click, you already noticed a slight frown on Pantalone’s face as if he already knew what you were going to tell.

“Sit”, he demanded you. You took a sit in front of his desk, while Pantalone was finishing some of his paperwork. With his free hand he pushed a cup of tea in your direction, one that’s specifically prepared for you. 

“Thanks”, that hot cup of tea was soothing and could definitely make a difference to this cold day. But unfortunately it couldn't influence the tension bulding between you two. Pantalone suspected your fears long before and subconsciously he knew that this relationship would harm you and your honour. 

He put his pen and ink away and turned his gaze at you.

“You really can’t just ignore those comments, hm? I knew you’re too caring for taking risks like that. After all, a Harbinger is a public personaa and is a subject to be discussed publicly. His private life, too.”

“You seem to not be affected.”

“I am hundreds years old, my dear. Surely you don’t think I worry about my reputation that much? Please, I have done so many things that would scare people much more than dating a mortal woman who has just recently joined Fatui.”

You took a sip from the cup not breaking an eye contact with him.

“Perhaps you’re right. Yet I fail to see how we’re going to solve this drama gathering around us. The only solution I could suggest you is to part for a while.”

“You want me to leave you alone?” The mere mention of the words would make him sick to the stomach yet he kept his composure quite well. You wouldn't lie and say you felt nothing. The sickness washed over you just at the thought of stopping any informal interaction with the Harbinger.

“Surely you don’t think it’s a good reason for us to take a pause, no?” A slight hint of possessiveness and unwillingness to separate himself from you appeared on his face.

“I know how it sounds, but Pantalone, we can’t possibly work when everyone around us just keeps plotting. Have you heard what they say about me? They just keep saying how I spread my legs for every Harbinger in 10 metre radius.”

“Darling, why’d you prefer listening to some…. randoms, instead of listening to your partner, hm? I really fail to understand you sometimes.”

You rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“Oh Pants, you really don’t get what it means to a woman? Especially to someone who just joined the ranks, and got immediately mixed with a sack of shit?”

“Enough.”

“Are you saying I’m stupid?”

“Not stupid. Just too empathetic and sensitive.”

“What are you, then? Super chill and indifferent? Or are you just too cool to think of my problems?”

At that moment something inside Pantalone finally cracked inside and he squeezed his fist. It only took him a few seconds to visually suppress his anger before he got back to his friendly, appealing self. 

“Alright. If that makes you happy. Remember, though, you can always come back to me. Once you’re done with your sensitive attitude, that is.”

It was a recurrent Pulcinella’s monthly speech. He would gather everyone around, not only Harbingers but also the newly appointed recruits. You were sure it was something important and you did listen to the half of it, if not certain someone who would constantly distract you. As much as you tried to concentrate on the Rooster, you couldn't help but be bothered by a malicious gaze on your back. You decided to take action. Slowly turning your head to the size, you caught Pantalone’s gaze. Per usual, he was standing in the furthest corner, his silhouette hardly lit and almost completely coverd in thick shadow, yet the glimpse of his glasses was in order.

Pantalone was staring at you with a look that suggested he was either watching your every move or waiting for you to finally admit his presence. It was always difficult to indicate what was going through this man’s mind. Two weeks passed since the two of you stopped talking outside of work, and it took its toll on you, too. So partially you could understand his frustration.

When Rooster finished his speech you left the HQ with everyone else, but upon walking through the corridor you felt someone grip your wrist tightly.

“Hey, you-”

It was Pantalone. He pulled you closer, but not flush, just the distance between you to let him see your face clearly.

“May I ask you something?”

You were stunned. It was so informal, unprofessional and blunt – you’d never ever expect something like that from Regrator. You calmed yourself down, sighed and attempted to respond, but right at that moment, as if by a disgusting twist of fate, Rooster was walking exactly in your direction wih a few recruits accompanying him. He was eagerly explaining them their duties, it seemed. 

“Shit. We can’t let them see us like this”, you said and looked into Pantalone’s eyes, but he remained still, no idea as to how escape awkwardness. Quickly, you looked around and -bingo- there was a storage room just to your right. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was as flat as it used to be, yet he followed you without futher bickering.

Hastily, you grasped the edge of Pantalone’s fur coat and pulled him inside, closing the storage room behind you. Throught the door whole, you saw Rooster stop right near that damn storage room.

“Oh no, he’s not going to leave soon, is he?” You whispered to Pantalone. In attempt to turn to face him, you accidentally stood on an empty glass bottle of vodka left on the floor and landed… on Pantalone's lap.

He was sitting at the wooden chair in the centre of the storage room, definitely not expecting you fall at him like that. Bumping into his neck, you almost immediately pulled away as if you saw a ghost.

“Oh my god.”

A futile attempt to raise from his thighs was crushed by Rooster’s sudden exclamation outside:

“Oh my Goodness! Did you hear that?”

Pantalone immediately grabbed your shoulder and told you to be silent only with his lips. You froze and kept still, waiting for the wave of curious Fatui outside to pass. After a few moments it was impossible to ignore the fact that you were, indeed, on his lap, and he was on a chair, not really comfortable. But he was a Harbinger, and previously a thug, obviously he could show great deal of stamina?

You carefully turned your head to catch a glimpse of the happening outside through the door hole but Pantalone gripped you tightly, almost gluing you to the current position.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Move.”

Only then, after his explicit remark, you finally realised the problem. You were sitting on his thighs. Quite literally!

Your eyes widened at the feel of something hard growing somewhere in the middle of his thigh.

“Oh my god. Really, oh my god”.

You looked down, and then raise your eyes back at him – his Adam’s apple shifted quite vividly, he most obviously swallowed impatiently. You suddenly felt heat spreading through your chest. Pantalone, caught in the storage room, hiding with you. And you, straddling him with your hips mercilessly. If anyone saw this, they would never believe the original story, they’d rather consider you two having an intimate affair right here, in such a closed space. And as a matter of fact, no one would blame them for that.

You looked back at Pantalone’s face, he licked his dry lips as an animal in heat. You could feel how he struggles having you so dangerously close, right on top of him, when the both of you decide to take a break. It was so infuriatingly ironic. Yet you stood still, trying to not make things worse for him… and yourself.

Eventually the voices outside got farther away. You carefully stood up from Pantalone, and he shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh of relief, probably. He adjusted his clothes, and you pushed the storage room open. No one was in the corridor, safe territory, absolutely. You pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear and asked:

“So, what did you want to ask before we… erm…”

Pantalone fixed his glasses and stood up from the chair too. 

“Initially I wanted to clarify if you still want to keep our break due, or if you had changed your mind”, he approached you closer and cornered you to the wall, all in a blink of an eye. 

“I don’t think this break will ever work”, he said, extending his arm and placing it against the wall, next to your ear. “If you want to break up with me, at least find a more solid reason than dirty gossip”, Regrator leaned at close proximity to your cheek and trailed a line with his lips from your cheekbone down to your neck and stopped right there. You placed your hand on his chest in return, his pulse rate wild. 

“Fine, fine, stop you”, you punched him in the shoulder lightheartedly. “Let’s go back to work until we’re wanted.”

“If we do, you ought to accompany me, I’m afraid”, he extended his arm.

You rolled his eyes, silly.

“You wouldn't have it any other way, jealous mister?” 

The familiar touch to his gloved hand was filled with warmth and longing. 

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

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chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

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MASTERLIST.

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Genshin Men Eating Out Their Darling

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Capitano, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Dottore, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Kinich, Lyney, Neuvillette, Ororon, Pantalone, Pierro, Sethos, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer/ Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli (all separate)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

I decided to do ca. 100-200 words each character to keep it nice and simple:) (some are over 200 tho). This took me longer than expected haha. My requests are open, but read my rules before requesting <3

Masterlist

Warnings: NSFW 18+, cunilingus, all sexual acts are consensual, female reader, obsession, possessiveness, some of the yandere tendencies are more subtle than others, future imprisonment, face sitting, jealousy, fingering, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, forced marriage, reader is indifferent to some of the yandere behaviour in some of the parts, translation at the end, power imbalance, THE BLOOD IN CHILDE’S PART IS NOT PERIOD BLOOD, BUT BLOOD FROM SOMEONE HE HAD TO “SETTLE THINGS WITH”

Word count: 4779

Albedo

The unforgiving wind of the icy mountain howled against the treetops. The fireplace was lit given you much needed warmth. It had been 2 months since you had moved up into the cozy cabin high up in the mountain with the famed researcher.

His hand scissored skilfully into your cunt before his tongue joined them. The cold left you quickly as his tongue dove in deeper into your fluttering cunt.

You were glad you had taken upon the offer of the blond haired man and followed him up to Dragonspine. Here you had been happier than ever before and you believed him when he said that others would just do you harm.

Alhaitham

The scribe was a calculated and well composed man. So who would have thought he would lose his composure so easily when it came to you? Your presence was enough to make his seemingly cold manners crack and turn into poorly hidden admiration. Alhaitham did anything he could to keep you as shielded from the outside world as possible.

His muscular arms kept your legs open as he devoured you with uncharacteristic vigour. He sneered like a starved animal as he left mark after mark on your thighs. A guttural sneered left his lips as he dove his face further into the warmth of your cunt. You cooed at him lovingly as shivers of pleasure ran through your body.

Ayato

Ayato had always had his way with words. He had always had the upper hand no matter the circumstances. He was a beautiful man and he reminded you of a siren. His lilac eyes enchanted you to no extent. His touches intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. He was a dangerous man, that much you knew, but it didn’t stop you for seeking him out time after time. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he loved you, oh so much and he kept you safe.

His bed was soft as and comforting. The doors open and welcoming in the breeze from the sea. The moon was high and clouds covered some of its white body.

The pale blue haired man was busy with burying his face between your legs were he ate you out with precision. His eyes never leaving yours as he showed you what it meant being the wife of the head of the Yashiro Commission. You found yourself melting in his touches and any thought about your parents disappeared without a trace. The smug smirk of the ethereal man was out of your understanding as you lost yourself to pleasure.

Baizhu

The Bubu Pharmacy was empty save from the two of you. The lights were dimmed and the window closed to keep the cold autumn night air out. Candles were lit to give you some much needed light. Baizhu’s trusted companion, the snake that often accompanied him, was in another room far away.

Orange reptile like eyes gazed down on you gently as he moved slowly down your body and to where you wanted him the most. His light touches teasing and making you hunger for more.

He parted your thighs skilfully as he kissed up your slit before he entered your hole with his tongue. The very same tongue which had driven your family and loved ones away with elegantly spun lies and well hidden treats.

Now the only thing you needed was him and his gentle, loving touches.

Capitano

The 1st Harbinger was a big and righteous man. He was stronger than any human that walked the earth and he never broke his word. He had first intimidated you with his size (and he still did at times), but you learned that underneath his helmet was a charming man. His charm was difficult to pinpoint as it was different from most, but it had greatly intrigued you.

His large hands held your legs firmly as they rested in his shoulders. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed with his head buried in your soaking cunt. His helmet was carefully placed on the dresser. Capitano’s long black hair fell against his shoulders as he lapped up your juices. His dark midnight blue eyes stared up at you, making you shiver under their intensity.

“You are so beautiful [Name]” his voice a groan.

You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and you couldn’t care less about the havoc he had caused when a rowdy man had accidentally bumped into you.

Childe

Blood were still coating the ginger strands of the warrior who had you pressed down on his face. The first thing he had demanded when he got home from yet another business trip, was for you to sit on his face. Who were you to deny your husband?

His grip on you were as intense as the rest of the man. His blue eyes were shut in bliss as he ate you out like it was his last meal. And if he had the choice he would die happily between your thighs as he told you at every given moment.

You didn’t last long with that damned tongue of his and before you knew it, you were clutching the headboard for much needed support. Instead of letting you get off, he simply glanced up at you with big eyes full of love and utter devotion.

As he continued to stare, it became obvious of who the blood in his hair belonged to.

Cyno

The white haired Mahamatra had his gazed locked onto your weeping cunt. His calloused hands ran down your sides till they got hold of your hips. His tongue plunged into you like a starved man and drove moan after moan out of you. He had finally managed to convince you to stay at home in his fine house as he would take care off you. Given his mannerism you could tell he was greatly pleased with himself.

His skill full tongue drove you quickly to your climax and you intertwined your hand in his white locks as he licked up your sweet release.

His red eyes looked up at you lovingly as he continued his previous pace. You were in for a long night.

Dainsleif

Blond hair tickled the sensitive skin of the inside of your thighs. The Khaenri'an’s hands were digging into the flesh of your skin as he lapped at your sweet juices. Dain had told you time after time that you were the only person that relived him of the pain that was caused of the curse that was cast upon him. As following he never let you leave him. You had long since learned that the soothing effect you had on his curse was only a tiny tiny fraction as to why he never let you leave his sight.

His groans and your soft moans were echoing through the empty halls of the ruin. The blond man drove his tongue deeper and you felt you were close. You chest heaved up and down in a rapid motion as you tried to calm down form your release.

Cerulean eyes stared up at you with devotion one normally only found in a worshipper of a god. How ironic. Words feel from his mouth which you had no means to understand, yet you felt the meaning through his unrelenting gaze. “Jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, min kjære [Name].”

Diluc

The soft glow of the fireplace warm against your naked skin. The light from the fire lighting up the muscular chest of the redhead that leaned over you. His lips locked against yours in a passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in a seductive tango which made you ache with need between your legs. Diluc hummed as he noticed your thighs pressing together.

With his head between your thighs he worked you closer and closer towards or orgasm. His movements passionate and filled with love. You ran your hair through his red locks. You were truly happy in the arms of the man who loved you more than life itself. You ignored the words of others. So what is he was overprotective and so what is he didn’t want strangers talking to you? He was only trying to protect you.

Dottore

The Doctor was a talented man when it came to the art of intimacy. It was a rather shocking discovery at first, but you was happy he had showed you his ways in the bedroom.

The threat of being imprisoned forever within the walls is his lavish manor hang low over your head like a guillotine. Despite that you couldn’t care less. Not when he was nestled between your legs and lapped at your cunt with such gentleness and love you almost wept. To awaken such emotions within the second Harbinger was a defeat in itself, one which you treasured greatly.

His groans synchronised with your moans in a symphony of love and lust. It made you curious for the future and uneasy for what he had done to your loved ones.

Gorou

The life of a general was busy and dangerous. His days existed of leading battles and giving out orders. So it was only natural he was extremely touch starved when he returned from war and to you.

When you greeted him in the hallway of their cozy home he almost leaped into your arms. You hugged him tightly, glad he wasn’t hurt. He buried his face in the crotch of your neck. “Oh how I have missed you” his voice a whisper.

Pale hands gripped your thighs in a tight grip. Blunt nails digging into your skin. Your hands held onto the headboard with enough strength so you wouldn’t collapse on the man underneath you. His tongue drilled fast and deep into your drenched cunt. He was eating you out like a wild dog. Your every nerves was haywire.

Your breath hitched as Gorou drove you faster and faster to your climax. The brown haired man beneath you muttered chants of “I love you” against your clit over and over again. He had promised you when you pulled you onto the bed that he would never ever leave you again, and judging by his intense look you believed him.

Heizou

Slim fingers ran down your thighs leaving goosebumps in their wake. Dark red hair brushed against your nose. Light green eyes gazed into your eyes with lust and love. Your lips locked in a soft kiss. He tasted sweet like cherries. Your lips pulled apart and you could feel him smirking.

“You have no idea how much I love you, need you” his sensual voice whispered against your lips. He gave you one last deep kiss before he lowered his head down and kissed trails down to where you needed him the most.

You kissed your inner thigh till he reached your sweet cunt. He kissed it once, twice, before he gave it a good lick. You moaned at his moment.

He snickered teasingly as he pushed his tongue inside your spongy walls. He moaned loudly at your taste.

“Archons, you tasted heavenly” he sighed in between licks. His thumb found your clit which he stroked and rubbed skilfully.

You could feel the knot in your lower abdomen getting closer and closer to snapping. Before you knew it you came all over the beautiful face of the man between your thighs.

In your blissful trance you were completely unaware of the documents on his nightstand that read the reports of your future disappearance.

Itto

The horns of the oni was hard and cool underneath your hold. As you rubbed the base the large oni groaned in pleasure. He had you on his face in a tight hold as he ravaged your cunt with such hunger only an oni could posses. As his tongue swirled over your clit in a slow harsh manner, your dread upon seeing him tear the men who had backed you in an alley, in half slowly disappeared.

Your chest heaved as you tightened your hold on his horn which egged him on further. His movements speed up and it didn’t take long before you saw stars. You slumped forwards, but his strong large hands kept you upright.

“I love you so, so much” he murmured against your thigh.

Kaeya

The blue haired captain had without no doubt murdered the annoying tavern patrons in cold blood. Despite that, you felt safe in his arms as he pleasured your cunt with his slivered tongue. His lone eye glanced up at you with a hooded lid which sent a warm jolt down in your cunt.

He was as skilled with his tongue when it came to pleasuring you as he was at whispering you lies that fuelled your dependence on him.

He held you in a tight embrace as you came down form your high. His honeyed voice whisper sweet nothings into your ears and you felt safe in his arms.

Kaveh

Blond locks tickled your thighs as the architect lapped at your cunt. He had been extremely stressed and panicked when he came home to your shared home. He had admitted that he was afraid of someone better coming to whisk you away. You were the only thing that kept him sane. You had stroked his hair reassuringly and told him you would never leave him. Before you both knew it you had ended up in to sofa, with him nestled between your thighs.

You pulled at his soft locks which earned you a grown which reverberated against your cunt. You threw your head back against the cushion. Kaveh had always put your pleasure before his and he had always had a talented for making you feel better than anyone else could.

With a swirl of your clit and thorough the lapping of his wet muscle you came so heard you saw stars. You thought that he must be a gift sent by the gods beyond the sky as he licked up your excessive juices with loud moans.

He leaned over you as he started lovingly into your eyes. “You are never allowed to leave me, ever” he kissed you passionately. His grip on your shoulders was hard as if he was afraid you would run away.

Kazuha

The white haired samurai had always intrigued you. He was a wise man with a connection to nature you could only hope to fully understand. He was so so kind and gentle towards you, yet you had just witnessed him slashing down a group of drunken sailors who had gotten a little too friendly with you. His snowy haired had been stained red as he pulled you into a tight embrace, relived you were okay. You were shaken up by the sight you had just seen before you and he had kissed your face as he had whispered reassuring words. Every word he utters from his pale lips felt like a warm blanket. They always seemed to calm you.

You had helped him wash his hair and as his hair grew more and more white, his desire for you became more and more visible. You had pulled him into a kiss with led to you being laid out on the soft sheepskin rug in the middle of the bathroom.

His tongue wasn’t only good at uttering poetic words, but it was also extremely skilled in the art of pleasure. He ate you out gentle and sensual with his hands gripping your thighs. Every time the started close do to you being so lost in please, he pushed them open firmly. His red eyes held your gaze through the many orgasms he drew out of you. You had now completely forgotten all about the sounds of Kazuha’s katana slashing through the throats of the sailors.

Kinich

The ancient name bearer was a honest man. He believed in getting straight to the point and he rarely kept secrets. Hence why he told you quite early on after he had realised his feelings, what he felt for you. You had been foolish in believing it was just a normal crush and not an endless abyss of love and obsession which had scared his little dragon companion.

You had invited the hazel eyed young man into your home, without knowing that day would be your last day of freedom. After his visited, he would bring you home with him.

You laid spread out onto your bed with the dark haired man planted between your legs. His tongue hungrily ate you out and he swallowed as much slick he possible could. You whispered a soft “I love you” which made him completely lose his composure.

Lyney

White doves, flashy card tricks and well thought out magic performances became a part of your daily life after you accepted Lyney’s love. His feline eyes never left your form and his hand was always near you. He sneered passive aggressive threats at everyone who dared getting close to you. It had starting to get exhausting calming down your possessive lover. Luckily you had come up with a solution.

Burying his head into your cunt had surprisingly calming effects on the magician. He moaned at your sweet taste as his pale lilac eyes fell shut. His tongue was as talented as his fingers and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You had started to wonder if he actually possessed magical powers after he brought you to your fourth orgasm that night.

Unbeknownst to you, was that the cunning magician had purposely lashed out more than normal at the travelling market you two had visited in order to be granted access between your legs. It was a grand feast for him and a pleasurable act for you, so it was a win win for both parties, wouldn’t you agree?

Neuvillette

The dragon had laid you down on the plush bed. Your skin flat against the silk sheets. His hold on you were gentle, but possessive. Despite his perfectly crafted façade he was only a dragon, and dragons did not ever want to share their treasures. Seeing you surrounded by so many who wanted to congratulate you on your marriage shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. He had clenched his jaw and dragged you upstairs to his private quarters.

His tongue was skilled and held an authority which made you blush. His pale fingers joined his tongue and brought you to a pleasure you knew you would never find with another man. You let yourself lose control of your body and gave your entire being to the awaiting dragon.

Ororon

The dark haired man was a desperate man. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline and for all you knew, maybe you were. His mismatched eyes held an obsession that ran deeper than the well that was outside his home.

He kissed your lower lips sloppily, but with such passion the poets of Mondstadt could never hope to achieve. He whimpered at the sweet taste of you and his kisses deepened. His lips parted from your sweet cunt and shifted to your inner thigh were he sunk his fangs into. You hissed as he sucked a purple hickey onto your sensitive.

“I should mark you up so no one gets any funny ideas about who you belong to” his sweet voice drowning out any other thoughts and filling them all with him.

Pantalone

Ringed fingers stroked the inside of your thighs as the dark haired Harbinger held your thighs. His pretty lips curled up into a smile that made your cheeks redden. He laughed at your embraced appearance. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” he purred as he kissed the inner of your thighs slowly, teasingly.

When his lips finally reached you were you wanted it the most you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips. The sounds only pushed him further on as he quickly and suddenly plunged his tongue deep inside. He moved his tongue skilfully as one of his hands found your clit which he rubbed gently.

The ring on your finger which symbolised the eternal binding you had to him felt like a part of you as you came undone on the silver tongue of the banker. It was as if your distaste of the marriage had never happened at all.

Pierro

The director of the Harbingers was a cold and collected man, but when it came to you he was different. The coldness thawed and was replaced with a warmth that lulled your senses. His large hands moved in precision that came with the many years he had lived. The marriage he had forced upon you didn’t seem as bad as you laid in the bed of his elegantly decorated bedroom with relics he had collected throughout the years.

His right hand held onto your thigh as the other held onto your and. Your hands intertwined. On of your legs were popped up on his shoulder as his tongue worked inside your tight hole. He was rather quiet save for a few grunt here and there, but it was obvious he enjoyed himself greatly.

As you came you tightened your hold on his hand and he kissed your thigh gently in a sign of his undying love.

Sethos

The tent was cramped, but with a miracle he had made it cozy. Blankets were covering the ground followed by pillows. Sethos was pressed between your thighs as he worshipped your cunt like it was an ancient goddess. His wild locks had fallen down his shoulders and framed his beautiful face. His gemstone like eyes found yours as he continued to please you with his tongue.

You could tell he was relieved to find you unharmed after the encounter with the bandits. You hadn’t dared to ask what he did to them afterwards, but you decided it was best to ignore it. You knew he would never hurt you, but you couldn’t help but feel bad for the bandits that had the misfortune to encounter the clever young man.

Thoma

The blond housekeeper had always been so very gentle and careful when it came to you. It made you wonder if he was scared you would break if he applied a little more pressure. Tonight however was different.

His hands dug into your skin as his tongue worked you up with fast and harsh movements. You couldn’t hold back the soft moans that fell from your lips. You closed your eyes as he ate you out.

His jealousy was evident in his tight hold. He had been seething through his usually calm and friendly expression. He couldn’t stand seeing other men lay their slimy hands on someone who belonged to him. Who knew what they would do to you?

Tighnari

Soft ears flicked as a deep groan sounded from deep within the chest of the forests watcher. His was eating you with carnal desire that had first surprised you. His arms snaked around your waist in a protective manner.

Tighnari had always been extremely overprotective for as long as you had known him. You had after a time, welcomed that side of him after you realised he only meant you well. His company was all you needed and you had started to forget how it was being with your friends.

A groan left his lips as he lapped up your release with a hunger fever. You let your fingers run along his ear which earned you a strangled moan. His hazel eyes gazed up into yours which such love. Why seek freedom when you had the sweetest lover?

Venti

The playful bard was happily lapping at your wet cunt. His fingers gently caressed your skin. His nose pushed against your clit as he angled his head in order to reach deeper into you.

Venti was a firm believer in freedom, and freedom he had given you. It had surprised you at first how a man with so deep feelings for you at the point you could envision him creeping into the cavity of your chest in order to be closer to you, letting you roam freely within the city. He had let you do as you wished, except talking to other men alone. Whenever a male counterpart approached you, his green eyes filled with rage was he stepped in and dragged you away.

Wanderer/ Scaramouche

Cold breath fanned over your lower half as he bent his face down. His beautiful face ethereal in the moonlight as his eyes found yours. Love and desperation swirled in the violets.

He swirled his tongue around your clit which made you gasp. His cold hand intertwined with yours in a gentle, but firm hold. He had always had the need to know where you were at all times and when you weren’t within his reach he became irritable and lashed out at anyone who dared to talk to him. You had long suspected that there was more to him than what he had told you. One thing was sure, his love for you ran deeper than the roots of the giants trees in the rainforest.

He ate you out with such emotion you were taken aback. The usual snarky man was now glossy in the eyes as his eyes raked across your face.

The moonlight cast long shadows over the bedroom as you came. At that very moment you didn’t care about how he didn’t want you to spend time with your friends. For was it really that bad to only be with him? Was it really that bad to be with the man you love?

Wriothesley

Strong hands held your hips in place as his face burrowed into your crotch. A few groans escaped his lips as his tongue works up your slit. His nose against your clit. Your eyes started up into the ceiling as you moaned. The Duke had had a bad day and he had wanted nothing more than to burrow his head between your thighs and eat you out for hours.

It had become an everyday occurrence with him nestled nicely between your thighs. You had long since stopped complaining about not being able to see the sun that hung high above the blue Fontainian waters.

“You are such a good girl, [Name]. Let me take care of you” his chin was glimmering with slick. His tongue swept over his chin in a hum. “You’re gonna be safe here. I’m glad you finally realise such” he kissed your inner thigh before he dove back in. What he said was true. You were going to be happy with him down in the Fortress.

Xiao

Golden predatory eyes held your gaze as the long fingers of the adeptus plugged into your cunt. The slick sounds filling the room accompanied by your uneven breathing. His mouth locked around your clit as he gave it a hard suck which sent shivers down your spine. Xiao was a man of few words, but that didn’t bother you. He had his own ways of showing you his love.

His ravenous tongue accompanied his fingers as he began his feast. The bedroom at his private quarters at the inn was dimly lit. A lone candle was burning on the nightstand. Your gaze wandered to the open window which overlooked the marsh and the land that stretched beyond. You longed for your freedom, but you didn’t want to part from the adeptus you loved so dearly. Maybe one day you two would traverse the world beyond the surrounding land of the inn.

Zhongli

Strong warm hands pinned you down as soft lips kissed down to your cunt. His hauntingly beautiful eyes met yours as he gently bit down onto your skin. His sharp teeth almost breaking the skin, but he parted before it started to hurt. He had time after time showed you he knew both you and your body better than everyone else.

The contract that laid neatly on the dark wooden nightstand was temporarily forgotten as he worked your through your nth orgasm for the night. His long silky brown hair fell over his shoulders as he tipped your head up into a deep kiss. His tongue invited yours to a dance of pleasure and love. He parted with your lips after a moment that felt like an eternity.

“I will make you happy for eternity. Just sign the contract and I will take care of everything else” his deep voice reverberated through his broad chest.

You nodded, oblivious to what would happen to you when you signed your name onto the golden paper. Your faith was in his hands, but he promised he would take care of you. You were his future wife after all.

Translation

Norwegian → English

“Jeg elsker deg” = “I love you”

“Min kjære” = “My dear”

[euthymiya]

khaenriahn princess reader x knight capitano ; jealous capitano ; implied hidden relationship ; pre cataclysm ; royal au ; capitano is not cursed yet so his skin is supple and youthful ; banter and fluff

“There is word, my lady,” his voice says lowly. You hum, reaching over to grab at his helmet. Capitano gently captures your hand before you can, pulling it away from its path to uncover his face. There’s a fleeting frown on your lips, but it’s gone as soon as he brings it up and presses a small, delicate kiss to the knuckles through the dark cloth that hides him from you.

“Oh? What of, my dear knight?” You ask curiously. Something tells him it’s almost mockingly innocent.

“That there is a rather…determined prince seeking your hand in marriage.”

Sometimes, it feels unfair that very rarely do you get to see the face hidden underneath the armor, but you suppose you don’t need to see Capitano to know exactly what emotion is twisted in his face. You fight back an amused grin—his voice tells you all you need to know.

You’re certain he must taste his own bitterness as the words fall from his tongue.

“Such grand news,” you gasp, “and yet…you speak with such hesitation. Has this news not brought you joy, my captain?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says unamused, voice low and just shy of a grumble, “I value your wellbeing above all. Should a capable prince ask for your hand, I would be most delighted if that is what you accept.”

“You do not sound delighted at the idea,” you tease.

“Perhaps my lady has not given me reason to think she would be interested in such a proposition,” he mutters.

This time, his voice does, in fact, sound the slightest bit petulant—like a child who sulks after being scolded. His tone is usually one that is far too courteous. Painfully so, in fact. (You’ve spent a good number of exasperating moments insisting he be more casual with you. You reap the rewards of those efforts few and far in between). But now, he betrays himself with a flicker of frustration, far too evidently for even you to miss.

He realizes too late how childish the words must sound spoken so irritably. You can tell that he clenches his jaw, seeing the tension even under the mask as he forces himself to still the bitterness spreading through his veins.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you grin. You can imagine the unhappy lift of his brow as you speak, “what makes you so certain I would be disinterested in such an enticing offer?”

“It seems my assumptions were incorrect,” he grunts, straightening his back before promptly adding, “forgive me, my lady. I must see to rather urgent military affairs. I shall be seeing you—”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Sir Capitano,” you quip, your hand grabbing at his wrist, tugging him towards you. He stills, stiff as a statue as your hand reaches for his helmet once more.

This time, he doesn’t stop you. He allows the lithe, delicate fingers he knows so well to grab at the edge of his helmet, carefully tugging it off before his face slowly reveals itself to you. You smile, cupping a cheek before tracing your thumb along the soft skin of his face.

“I am not jealous,” he says stubbornly.

“Haven’t they taught you never to lie to a princess?” You hum, stepping closer. His lips twitch just a fraction at the edges before two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. Flush against his chest. Tucked right against his heart. Pressed so close, you almost wonder if you could feel his heart beating through the armor if you paid close enough attention.

“You torment me, my lady,” he murmurs quietly, “I fear I cannot accept this arrangement. It would tear through my soul to watch you be wed to another.”

“Then do not watch me,” you whisper.

You have seen his eyes flicker with soft, warm affection countless times. There is beauty underneath the helmet he wears so often, beauty that not many are so fortunate to see. You see it often, though. In private, hidden moments that he affords you. In the quiet of your chambers where the maids cannot disturb you. In the corners of the palace where no one can interrupt your fleetingly lingering touches and longing gazes.

Your hands hold his face, slowly pulling him closer as you study every precious slope across his skin. The slightly jagged curve of his nose. The plumpness of his lips. The slant of his sharp cheekbones. Every feature you know by heart, and revisit in your dreams.

You smile lightly at the thought of his jealousy, as guilty as you should feel for teasing him. Your knight—and you, his beloved princess.

“Do you wish to marry a prince?” He asks, leaning into your neck, breathing in your scent as his nose trails up your jaw until it reaches your cheek. Your breath hitches. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I wish to marry someone who owns my heart,” you say breathlessly, “prince or not.”

“Perhaps what you need is someone who is far more capable of carrying the weight of your heart. You possess rather discerning taste—it is not easy to please you, my lady.”

You huff, glaring at him from the corner of your eyes as you ask, “do you mean to call me difficult?”

“Among other things,” he chuckles. There’s a light, teasing trail of kisses pressed to your skin, leading straight to your lips. Capitano knows exactly what he’s doing, though—he stops just at the corner of them, making you pout as you try to lean in and close the gap.

He grins smugly, pulling away just enough to create distance between your mouths.

“You should not toy with a princess,” you say, displeased.

He hums, rubbing the small of your back as he counters, “and you should not toy with the heart of a man devoted to you.”

“Forgive me, my dear knight,” you murmur, gently bringing his face closer as your hands cradle his face once more, “I shall not torment you with such teasing again.”

“I am most grateful, your highness,” he fights back a chuckle.

Jealousy is unbecoming on someone as noble as the captain of your military forces. You like the way it looks on him just a little, anyway. Love the way his posture is more rigid and his voice is sharper when forced to consider the possibility of your heart yearning elsewhere. Enjoy the way he holds you tighter and closer as cool armor steals your warmth.

“Shall I tell this prince I am not interested?” You ask with a knowing look.

He hums thoughtfully, a smug smile playing on his lips as he replies, “no, I think I’d rather witness the expression of his highness when he realizes his charms hold no sway over you—a rare defeat for a man so certain of his allure.”

“Someday I shall marry you, my dear knight,” you whisper. Finally, with a softened look, he leans in to kiss you. Slow. Delicate. So gentle, it almost feels like you are one whisper from the wind away from falling apart.

“I look forward to it, my lady. Not even celestia could stop me from claiming your hand.”

————————

The last line is a big rip if you know what I mean 😔

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 3 — LINGERIE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — kazuha, scaramouche, kinich, alhaitham

— warnings. — fem! reader, fingering/scissoring, lots of teasing, alhaitham is the teasing master in this, hot and bothered genshin boys

⚝ — KAZUHA

"do i look good in this?"

good— was an understatement, and kazuha's breath stays stuck in his throat when he sees you in that dainty, little lace, his eyes widening in awe, admiring your magnificence.

the world around him seems to fade, leaving only you bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and frail garments hugging the curves of your body, "you’re… breathtaking," he whispers, his tone of choice an octave lower.

your fingers reach out to guide him, trembling slightly as his digits trace along the intricate patterns of the fabric— every touch was reverent, his fingertips brushing over the sheer bra exposing your erected nipples to him—fuck, it's as though he can’t decide which was more captivating.

"i can’t believe you’re real," he laughs and brushes away the loose hair strands sticking on his forehead, his eyes never leaving yours.

he pulls himself on top of you before placing his palm on your breast, "so beautiful…" kazuha continues, his glossy lips ghosting over your collarbone, his teeth grazing at the sensitive skin on your neck until he’s certain that there's a little hickey there as you twist and curl underneath him, voicelessly telling him to just touch you already.

and here he was now, in fact, he cannot stop touching you, each caress lingering as though to forevermore memorize the feel of you under his hands.

he slips his digits through the flimsy waistband of your underwear as your walls instantly flex and pulse around his fingers when he inserts them knuckles deep— only one, then after pressing it in and out for about three times, he add another, continuously sinking them into you as he smears harsh circles into your clit to multiply the sensation he's about to give you all night.

⚝ — SCARAMOUCHE

you’re so soft above scaramouche and it only spurs him on, especially with those graceful garments daintily squeezing your frame.

his tongue licks across his bottom lip when he pulls his fingers through the panties to scissor his digits inside your walls, playing with those searing spots he knew got you trembling, got you to beg for more. you're curling into him, squeezing yourself so close for him to add a couple kisses on your throat.

the volume of your voice increases each time scaramouche would find another compliment befitting of the new set of lingerie he's bought you— the wider his smirk gets, the more it means you're squeezing his fingers harder, "just like that, you look so good in this, picked it right for you, yeah?"

you eagerly nod as he feels your warmth clamping when he begins to scissor you, pumping his slender fingers in and out before adding the third.

well, lets be honest here, in the beginning he thought to himself on how ridiculous it must be for him to buy you something like that and he almost went back to return the costly good, yet now? wow, how fucking thankful he was to himself that he didn't.

⚝ — KINICH

"gimme a spin, yeah? like that," kinich smirks as you twirl around the newest set of lingerie, a deep red that hugged around the curves of your breasts and leaves almost no fabric left on your bottom.

and those thigh highs you added on, they made him feel like he's about to absolutely ravish you. kinich's not used to being at a loss for words, well, he keeps himself silent on purpose but with you? seeing you like this he thought he could say something other than look at you like a man who's never seen a woman before.

he was too drunk on the sight and so fucking hard already, feeling a twitch inside his boxers when you kneel down to press a harsh kiss on his bulge, looking up at him through doe eyes— and the next almost cruel throb in his shorts was to die for— this is making him lose his mind. you are.

he bites down on his tongue, his hips rolling into your palm with your lips hovering over the length. palming the front of his trousers, your face slants forward to smear your saliva across his lower abdomen so you'd be perfectly bend across him, making it fairly easy for kinich to watch your pretty ass and your folds barely being covered by anything but a fine silken line.

⚝ — ALHAITHAM

alhaitham's eyes barely flicker up from his book when you step into the room, though there’s a telltale tension in the way his grip tightens on the pages. he acts disinterested, you ponder if that book in his hands had a soul catching story for him to be this way— but you can feel the weight of his gaze when he thinks you aren’t looking.

"sit," he bluntly says, his voice commanding and motioning to his bulgy thigh, but he speaks in a way as though your appearance in such delicate lingerie wasn't affected him— although when you ultimately settle on his lap, he doesn’t miss a beat, his hand immediately reaching to the hem of your lace.

"read the next page for me, think you can do that?" he orders, though there’s a slight edge to his voice that betrays his focus, it's no longer on the book, but on your cute tits and sheer bra prancing with your lovely nipples.

you gulp down, adjusting your seat on his lap as you begin to read while he began to trace lazy patterns along the fabric, his fingertips brushing lightly over the lace, teasing and coaxing out needy shivers from your spine.

so well, his eyes stay fixed on the book, but his hand grows bolder, slipping beneath the edge of the lingerie, feeling your bare skin, "you’re really distracting, you know that?" he mutters, though his smirk says otherwise, "i was only planning to read this book but now—"

there’s a tension in the air, a game he’s playing where he pretends the book holds his attention — but in reality, all he was focused on was you.

day and night, no matter what you'd wear.

his sensitive length twitches against your thigh as your hole squeezes around nothing, your lips exhaling a stutter before he lets his hands squeeze your thighs— your jaw slack in surprise at how bold he began to be, now digging hard between your legs to press into your clit and rub it— his cloudy, bloodshot gaze focused on the pulsing, little pearl getting all the more roused the more he flicked it back and forth.

"i never said you should stop reading," he adds on, "already done for the day, hm? you tired?" a little too nonchalant for your liking.

you pout through your dreamy, lustful expression before you're letting your hand smooth through his hair, lightly pecking his forehead, "fine, but I'm sensitive there alhaitham, be careful."

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[squiddy-god]

The Hydro Dragon? A closet freak!?

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I have no excuse for this other than I NEED this man so bad it makes me look stupid. He's just so…dreamy sigh anyway here are some hcs that i have for the Iudex of fontaine. This is really long. I think I blacked out writing this. This is 6 pages of google docs single spaced size 11 arial font. I think i need to be sedated

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

Cw : this is pure filthy smut, freak Neuvillette, dragon form, monster fucking, inhuman genitals, double dick, desperate kinda pussy drunk Neuvillette, soft dom and hard dom, no pronouns but afab anatomy, implied chubby reader, squirting, bath sex, rut, breeding kink, just pure horny, slight cumflation, oviposition,egg mention, a little bit of predator prey vibes, overstimulation, tail riding. Very slight watersports mentioned, Daycraphilia, Nasty dragon man, sweat and liquids. Spit swapping, spit swallowing, spit kink, marking, biting, possessiveness.PIV sex, possible anal, Title kink? Sir kink? Innocence and court kink?(trust me bro) Reader is matching this mans freak. Aftercare is given, safeword is in place even if not mentioned explicitly

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Neuvillette is not entirely oblivious, he knows that he has needs and instincts but what he is wholly unaware of is that many of these instincts and desires are quite… out of the ordinary

There's also the fact that he has like 0 experience, so all of these desires are rather new or have been festering in his dragon mind for centuries

What the Iudex of fontaine lacks in experience he makes up for in the fact that he is downright insatiable and animalistic at times

When you first got with him you quickly realized that this man was incredibly touch starved, even the most innocent and fleeting touch from his beloved sets his very being to a burning desire.

And he is embarrassed to say that he craves it Neuvillette craves your touch in both a innocent and intimate way to the point you are shocked to find just how clingy he is towards you

The only time when he's not touching you, holding you, trying to sait the burning you leave him with is when he has court, and once he is out of court his mind returns to you, making sure you have a permanent seat at the opera house right next to his usual reserved seating.

Once he's out of court he's by your side, placing a kiss to the back of your hand and guiding you with a hand to the small of your back

To the people of fontaine he is a doting and protective lover, which is true, but they don't know the sheer levels of clingy that he is

He tries at first to contain this, so he doesn't scare you off, but eventually he simply needs you to be close to him

The other thing that comes as a shock is that this man is a freak

Let's start with his more inhuman side

The reason he is so covered is because his skin is slightly scaly, beautiful scales of cyan and cerulean blues that layer his skin in large patches, the main areas are his sides and part of his back, his thighs and his arms where they seem to sit permanently much like his pointed ears and horns (the blue streaks in his hair are horns trust me on this) when he uses his hydro powers or lets loose they glow

When he really lets loose the scales creep up his neck to his jaw, his ears seem to grow longer and more pointed, his teeth get sharper, his nails seem to grow more into claws and his pupils draw into slits.

His eyes and the rest of him seems to give off a faint blue glow

His tongue is long- like really long- and forked- and when he lets loose its a deep shade of blue

His cocks- both of them are far from human, hidden behind a vent they are ribbed un the underside with the head coming to a slight point, the top side is lined with bumps that resemble small tendrils, they line the head of his cocks to.

His tips are flushed an angry dark blue

This man has nice veins, his cocks are quite veiny but the veins along his body are rather pronounced as well, a deep blue, good and hydrated

He also has a large tail, its long and a deep blue fully scaled, thick at the base and tapers till the tailfins witch are a almost iridescent cyan and resemble the ends of his coattails

Ok now into the real smutty stuff-

He needs it messy, as messy and wet as possible, the problem is the more wet and messy it gets the hornier he gets in return

If the bed sheets aren't soaked and dripping wet with just about every fluid possible then he isn't satisfied

And i mean the bed sheets look like they just came out of a river

He gets so pussy drunk- this man is insatiable and eats you out for his own pleasure, basically tongue fucking you to drink up all of your juices he possibly can

The taste of you is intoxicating and he cannot get enough

The first time he eats you out, his tongue fucking into your overstimulated hole before he finally pulls out and his long tongue wraps around your clit as he all but makes out with your lower half and you wine out that it feels weird like your goona pee-

And this freak without hesitation presses on your stomach as you cum from his unrelenting ministrations

Because he is a freak who doesn't understand that things like that are not in fact what most are into. (he is eternally shocked when you explain this to him, trying to tell him his taste in kinks and fetishes are abnormal. Cannot fathom how it isn't hot to others)

But when to his shock you squeal and squirt his mouth, chin, and chest soaked along with the sheets

You are mid apology for the mess when you look at his eyes, his pupils are blown wide as saucers as he stares down at you breath heavy- downright ragged and he groans so low it rumbles in his chest and almost sounds like a growl

“I hadn't known that this was something the human body could do” before his pupils contract into little slits and he is licking you clean before he goes right back into trying to make you squirt again-

He is obsessed with you squirting, the fact that you were so lost in (the sauce) pleasure that you produced a significant volume of liquid? This man lives off of moisture, his favorite drink is water and he needs everything to be moist and wet for him to be fully comfortable, such is the nature of the hydro dragon. So it shouldn't be a shock that he is obsessed with making you squirt

Usually this leaves you rather overstimulated, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and running down your cheeks

Oh and Neuvillette love it- tears of pleasure soon laped away by his tongue as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss

Asks you with utmost seriousness to spit in his mouth and is confused by how flustered that makes you

But once you do he is practically moaning at the taste, greedily drinking whatever you will give him

And if you match his freak? Ask him to spit in your mouth? He's gone lmao- truly you are a blessing hand picked from celestia just for him

The first time you gave him head and spit on his cocks so you could switch between sucking and stroking them, making sure they got equal attention, he came instantly. The sight was just too much for him to handle

Neuvillette cums an insane amount. Its slightly watery but the amount is ridiculous, his precum is enough to have you thinking he already busted, but when he actually cums its like a broken faucet taking several gulps to swallow down and it still manages to coat you

And he just stays hard as a rock, the dragon stamina is insane and is even worse when he's in a rut

He loves to see you absolutely plastered with his cum, dripping all over you and out of you

The way your poor tummy is bloated while his clawed fingers push the rapidly escaping liquid back into you

The breeding kink on this man is unmatched, and i mean the only other contender who even comes close is tartaglia “PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT” ajax,

Neuvillette doesn't care if you actually can get pregnant or not- he is breeding you and he will make it happen

More freaky shit the man is obsessed with your sweat

He always hates when it gets too hot out but he thinks he can stand it when he sees the beads of sweat rolling down your body as you guzzle down a bottle of water.

Has to restrain himself with a white knuckled grip on his cane to stop from licking the sweat off of you

Once you are alone tho? He is absolutely licking you, to the point you can't tell if it's the sweat or the saliva that's dripping off of you.

Another chance to match his freak. Once on a hot day in his office you gave him a chaste kiss to his jaw, witch already had him longing, but then you licked a strip up the chiseled line of his jaw and he came in his pants

Work was finished early that day

If there's one thing that gets him worked up its seeing you wet in any context, or seeing you return the desire he has for you. All in all he wants you to desire him, to long for him

I think he has a large bathtub, really its more like a pool that happens to be heated and deep, with benches along the edges for sitting. Again like a large heated swimming pool

His favorite place to fuck you is in his bath, despite the scene of soaked silk sheets being burned ito him mind, fucking you in his element is just something else honestly.

The water sloshing against you accompanied by the lewd sound of you getting absolutely rearranged? Music to his pointed ears.

Almost forgot to mention this but his cock glows and throbs, the veins pulsing with a slight glow- and if you get him horny and desperate enough (not hard this man is easy to get bricked up-) mostly after he's spent hours between your legs or making out with you, you can even see and feel how his cocks seem to writhe and they write inside you too, when their thickness is stuffed into your hole(s) and Neuvillette is about to cum again they writhe and squirm in your gummy walls sending you over the edge as they poke against that gummy spot inside of you

Neuvillette wants to have both his cocks in just your one hole but he knows the stretch of just one is intense so he won't indulge unless you beg him for it

Once when he was at work you decided to take a nice bath, to ease your sore muscles and the numerous marks littering your body, from bite marks to dark hickeys all over

The Iudex can be quite possessive at times, the dragon instincts letting that possessive streak coil in the pit of his stomach because you are his mate and when he says his, he means it.

When he gets possessive like this he gets meaner- no one in fontaine dares to flirt with his lover, out of both respect and slight fear of the consequences (harassment is taken very seriously)

But every so often someone wants to test his patience, or a foreigner who has no idea who you are oversteps. He is always calm, firm hand on your back as he states that it is rude and impolite to so vulgarly pursue his partner

But when the two of you are back at your shared home? He is a bit mean, rougher as he needs you to say that you're his over and over again.

This is where the title kink(?) and sir kink come in. call him “sir neuvillette” “sir Iudex” profess your innocence, plead your case to him, prove the other party guilty

And he will relent his marking and harsh grip infavore of soft open mouth kisses and the pleasure he bistoes on you

Afterall he is a benevolent and fair judge

Back to the bath-

You took a bath without him, witch is a rare occasion as he loves to bathe with you, even in a non sexual context. It is simply a comfortable intimacy for him

But this time is different

Seeing you surrounded by his element of hydro, the room moist with steam as your body glistens with moister, his eyes go to saucers again and he is quick to approach

Tugging off his gloves with his teeth and letting them cup your cheek and travel beneath the water while he leaves sweet kisses on your skin until he cant help himself and dips his head to the place where the water rest against your chest and he drinks

Like a man lost in the dessert, you can hear the obscene gulps this man lets out

The freak in him drinks your fucking bath water and has absolutly no shame about it

In Fact it has his cocks aching for you, while his expression can only be described as adoration

Because the Iudex of fontaine adores you in a way that is only brought on by centuries of longing for a person he has never met

He is much worse during his rut

It is a week solid of him just absolutely fucking you into whatever surface or body of water he can find

His throat is tight and dry, no amount of water seems to be able to quench this thirst and so he drink you

If you thought he was a munch before then the glint in his eyes at the scent of your arousal is downright predatory

He makes sure you drink about as much water as him, witch is a feat of its own, just so that you have more for him to drink from you

His taste for water is extraordinary on a good day but it even more apparent in his rut,

Because regardless of when it is he can taste you. The kind of water or liquids you drink seeps into everything, he can taste it in you sweat, in your slick, in your spit- the cool refreshing quality of mondstat, the mineraly flavor of inazuma, the sweet taste of sumeru, the tang and burn of inazuma, he can taste it normally but in rut he is downright shameful about describing how you taste on his tongue.

Has you drink different imported watters between rounds to get full flavor

Practically begs to breed you- hes already bad on a regular day, his paternal instincts too stong- but now its different, he wants his eggs inside you, wants you swollen and barefoot around his manor and he needs it- if you aren't ready he’ll just stuff you full like he normally does with cum he knows wont take, but he can hope

Remember how I said he doesn't care if you can get pregnant? Yeah that's because it doesn't matter- the part that matters is his eggs-

On the chance you do say yes to his eggs he is overjoyed, biting down on your shoulder with a bit of venom that numbs your mind- just enough so the stretch of his eggs and the way he has to deposit them doesn't hurt

Speaking of biting the first rut you spend with him is intense, its a week he takes off, (it is now regularly built into his schedule that he has a solid week blocked out for his rut) its his first rut he hasn't forcefully suppressed or simply worked through in solitude and now he has a mate to spend it with?

The first time he slides his length inside you he can resist the urge to sink his teeth into you, right where your shoulder meets your neck he bites down hard

A permanent bite mark with a small hydro mark in the center that glows faintly when he touches you, or when it rains, or you touch water. The glow sends a pleasant and refreshing feeling, like warmth without heat

Because he is so much more thirsty the dirty man fuck you in the bath a lot more and ends up drinking your bathwater more

Be a freak, do it back, drink this man up because he is a tall glass of water.

You do have needs, you can just be attached to the Iudex for a week straight, even tho he insists he could send someone to go grocery shopping, you so cruelly leave him to fist his cocks while you are out getting fresh air.

Personally I like the idea of neuvillettes home being underwater like those glass structures you can find in fontaine. Its huge in a lake, half of it is a beautiful mix of stained and clear glass, even some that seem iridescent, the other half is built in the same french rococo style as the mansions of fontaine, with the exception that it is built into the rocky wall of the deep lake. There is a tunnel that leads to the oceans of fontaine and its ideal for neuvillette. But you need fresh air

So you are gone for a few hours on the surface and he is suffering,

By the time you get back he the mansion is dark, none of the lights are on and it was raining outside (hence your hasty return)

The second you step in through the elevator down you can tell something- someone is watching you, the subtle growl and fleeting glimpse of glowing blue in the corner of your eye making the hair on the back of your neck stand up

Like a small lamb you wander through the large house knowing that hes right there, stalking in the shadows, hunting you

The only light is at the very ends of one of the halls, where you know the master bath is. With trepidation you walk towards the bathroom, knowing that's probably where he's going to absolutely jump your bones, you can't help the arousal that pools

Another thing that alerts you being the growl you hear behind you

When you finally get to the bathroom you decide to play his game- stripping off your clothes slowly- temptingly as his eyes burn across you before you sink into the water and swim to the center of his large bath (real basically a swimming pool)

You don't even hear him get in, but the second you turn back around expecting him to be at the water's edge- he's inches away from you, predatory eyes staring down at you as if to let you know he's won

The lights go off and all you can see is the glow of his eyes as you swim away slowly while he drops towards you until the cold hard tiles press into your back while you sit on the built in ledge, he rises cageing you between his arms as his long silvery hair falls disheveled down his back and cascades over his tense shoulders like a waterfall, he glows more and more and water drops hit your face, the blue streaks that cover the underside of his hair give off a faint glow, then the scales along his body, the long dark blue tail that you now see is also slightly alight. You dare to travel your eyes away from his, away from his hands- his claws that grip and cut into the tile slightly, down his chest and below his waist to the glow that sits just below the water

His tail wraps around your legs nudging them apart

“Look at me my beloved”

His tone is soft but there's a edge to it that has you snapping to attention, for once your eyes are blown wide as saucers and his are narrow slits like needles

Then you feel it, the rub of his thick tail that has your legs spreading to accommodate it while it grinds against you getting you worked up and just as desperate as he is

Ride this mans tail he will be put under a trance

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[reocidal]

LOGIC

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS swearing, angst?, violence/blood, police officer x thief, one (1) suggestive reference, rushed ending, maybe ooc

WORD COUNT 738

AUTHOR'S NOTE cashing in for day 02 @phantasmaebg

"you have to get help," he tells you, voice flat. "stop thieving. there are other ways to get money."

"what if i don't want to?"

"think about it, logically—"

"fuck logic!" you snap. "i'm good just like this, thanks."

"and i am risking my job for you, so maybe stop thinking about yourself." alhaitham is calm, eerily so. but you know he has a point. you know this isn't something he — either of you — should be doing. "if you stop this— this foolish thieving you've got going on, i can help you, the way you need."

"i don't want your help," you retort before realising that this is escalating too fast. you decide to change the subject instead. "there's a lot of other things you're giving me, and it's enough, hell, it's way too much."

"what do i even give you?" he asks, genuinely intrigued. you make a funny face at him, and his curiosity turns into distaste as he grimaces.

"you're disgusting."

you scoff, getting up and dusting yourself off. "you're even worse, mr. respectable police officer. helping out a lowly thief like me? on a regular basis too!"

he glares at you, crossing his arms defensively. "you know there's a reason."

"i think i forgot." you smile without remorse; it's obvious that you haven't forgotten anything. alhaitham, for one, knows your memory is top tier. "actually, i think i need you to remind me again."

he makes a discontented noise low in his throat. "it's because i'm in love with you. there, are you satisfied?"

"very." you are. "so gimme a kiss, alhaitham, and we can go on our merry ways— see you at the next crime scene, maybe?"

"maybe not." he leans back when you lean up, and your lips turn down in response.

"what, hate me that much?"

he shakes his head. "give it a try, please. not being a nasty little thief, i mean."

you roll your eyes. "and what do i get in return? exactly, nothing!"

he sighs. "c'mon, pretty—"

"what'd you call me?"

alhaitham purses his lips. "you have nothing left to lose, i'll take care of you."

"my honour doesn't allow that."

"what honour do you have, living off— off shit you steal?" his voice, in contrast to his words, is surprisingly gentle. "when you know i could help you make a change."

you swallow. no one's happy now.

"like i said," you begin, and your voice wobbles. "like i said, we should be going now."

"alright." he moves robotically now, like he has no free will of his own. he's deflated, like something in him has been extinguished. he lets you kiss him goodbye, and you don't see him again for another two weeks.

when you do see alhaitham again, there's not only a defeated look in his eyes — as usual — but one in yours too. you're battered and bloodied, knuckles bruised a sick mix of blue, purple, and green colour that he knows will look even worse later. you look like a cornered creature, feral, flighty, ready to attack at any given moment. your poise looks relaxed, but from years of experience and knowing you he knows that it's nothing less than a disguise. you're so on guard, you're physically unable to let it down around him.

"what happened?" he takes a single, firm step towards you, but nothing more. no sudden movements, no actions that will cause you to work yourself up further.

"almost got caught," you force out. you're panting, voice raspy, eyes following all his movements.

"oh." he softens, visibly. "well. not much i can do now, right?"

"yeah."

"unless…"

"yeah."

you let him take you home that night; whatever inside you that had been fuelling all of this seems to have finally burned itself out. you let yourself cry when he bandages you up, rough hands tender upon yours. and when he begs you, again, to allow him to take care of you, you let him.

the robberies around town die down all of a sudden; coincidentally the records of the perpetrator of those aforementioned crimes are all erased due to a mishap while saving some files. you move into his apartment, and no one makes the connection between you and the infamous thief in town.

and it's while it's not the easiest or most enjoyable ride ever, the two of you do get your happy ending. but that, in itself, is another story.

© reocidal 2024

[silkjade]

WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.” 

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor? 

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders. 

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips. 

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist. 

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust. 

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity. 

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips. 

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting. 

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips. 

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance. 

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked. 

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress. 

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom. 

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed. 

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp. 

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts. 

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh. 

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile. 

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..” 

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark. 

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls. 

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight. 

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb. 

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.” 

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles. 

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source. 

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place. 

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy. 

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.  

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more? 

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips. 

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire. 

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.” 

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size. 

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round. 

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips. 

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin. 

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst. 

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts. 

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure. 

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet. 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars. 

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering… 

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone. 

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything. 

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life. 

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.” 

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart. 

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed. 

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again. 

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven. 

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him. 

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.       

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him. 

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing. 

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more. 

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.  

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is. 

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting. 

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over. 

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.” 

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...” 

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure. 

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself. 

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused. 

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.” 

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please. 

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers. 

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name. 

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette. 

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless. 

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.” 

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his. 

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention.  Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming. 

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does. 

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly. 

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.   

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.” 

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about. 

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm. 

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth. 

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white. 

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable. 

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face. 

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.” 

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.  

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

edit 10/2024: please Do Not Follow if you are “just here to read,” with the expectation that i will post more fics of this caliber, or any fics At All. this is mainly a selfship blog with VERY occasional writing, thanks.

notes2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

notes3: here is a little visual of how i imagine the dress at the beginning to look like, but of course you can always imagine it however you like since i’ve purposely left it rather vague : )

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