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hyuniemyunie · 3 days ago

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Crushing heads

genshin men x chubby gn!reader

sfw

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(ФωФ): crushing head between your thighs. suggestive-ish..?

itto, kaveh, childe, neuvillette, kaeya

im gonna do this with a few other fandoms🙏 but tbh with genshin logic if youre slightly above 50kgs youre considered chubby💀

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Unmovable, Unstoppable

There wasn’t much in life that could make Arataki Itto shut up.

He was loud, brash, always ready to boast about his strength, his gang, his unbeatable top dog status. He’d go on and on about how Arataki “The One and Oni” Itto was the strongest, the bravest, the absolute best at everything he set his mind to.

But right now?

Right now, he had forgotten how to breathe.

You were standing there, hands on your hips, looking at him like you were waiting for something. He had no idea what that something was, because his brain had short-circuited the moment he really looked at you.

Not just glanced—looked.

The kind of look that seared itself into his skull and made his heart beat way too fast.

He had always thought he had a type—someone small, cute, delicate. But you?

You were everything. You were warmth and presence and the kind of strength that could flatten a man with just a glare. And Archons above, Itto had never wanted to be flattened so badly in his entire life.

“Wow,” he breathed, blinking rapidly. “You—uh—wow.”

You squinted. “That’s it? Wow?”

“I—yeah? No! I mean—uh—” Itto scratched the back of his head, his fingers tangling in his wild hair as he tried desperately to make his brain work. “It’s just—you’re, like—really strong-looking. Like, I bet you could take down a whole herd of wild boars with your bare hands. That’s crazy cool.”

You smirked. “Is that your way of saying you like what you see?”

Itto immediately turned red.

“WH—NO—YES—WAIT.” He held up his hands as if to physically block the words that had just come out of his mouth. “That’s not—I mean—yes, obviously, because look at you! You’re awesome and hot, like so hot! But also, uh, not in, like, a weird way! I just mean, like—uh—”

You crossed your arms, watching him flail with an amused glint in your eyes. “You talk big, Itto, but I’m starting to think you wouldn’t last five minutes against me.”

His entire body reacted before his brain could catch up.

“EXCUSE ME?!” He slammed a hand over his chest like you had just personally challenged his oni pride. “Listen, buddy, I may be a lover and a fighter, but I never back down from a challenge!”

You grinned. “Good.”

That was how Itto found himself on the ground, legs sprawled, arms limp at his sides, with your thighs wrapped firmly around his head.

He had lost. Spectacularly.

He had rushed in, all brute force, all confidence, all big oni energy—and you had dropped him like it was nothing. Like he was a practice dummy. Like all his muscles and brute strength didn’t matter one bit when faced with someone who actually knew how to handle him.

And now?

Now he was trapped.

Your thighs flexed around his skull firmly, pressing in just enough to make his breath stutter. His entire body twitched. He was burning up. Not just from the pressure, but from the sheer humiliation—from how much he liked it.

He let out a strangled whimper.

You laughed, shifting slightly to squeeze just a little tighter. His legs kicked.

“Wow,” you teased, mirroring his earlier words. “You—uh—wow.”

Itto made another garbled sound, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air before he grasped at your thighs—not to push you away, oh no, but to hold on like his life depended on it.

His face was fully buried between them now, burning hot, and he had never felt so helpless. Not in fights, not in beetle battles, not ever.

And Archons, he loved it.

You tapped a finger against his forehead. “C’mon, big guy, what happened to all that talk? Weren’t you supposed to be the strongest?”

Itto groaned, the sound muffled. His fingers dug into your thighs, but there was zero force behind it—just a grip that said please don’t move.

You smirked. “Nothing to say? No big, dramatic monologue about how you’re gonna turn this around?”

Itto, for the first time in his entire life, had absolutely nothing to say.

His brain was fried. His pride was in shambles. His body was on fire.

And then, because of course this would happen—

“....Boss?”

A voice not that far away. A very familiar voice.

Shinobu.

His second-in-command.

The one person in his life who would never let him live this down.

“OH NO,” Itto wheezed.

You raised a brow, tilting your head. “Something wrong?”

Itto flailed. Actually flailed. “I—I CAN’T LET HER SEE ME LIKE THIS, MAN, I’LL NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT.”

You laughed, finally—finally—easing up. Itto gasped, gulping in air like a drowning man, his entire body sagging in relief.

His face was red. His limbs were jelly. His pride was nonexistent.

And yet—

Yet, as you stood up, stretching like that whole thing hadn’t just changed his entire worldview, Itto found himself staring at you with dazed, starry eyes.

“…Hey,” he croaked.

You looked down at him. “Yeah?”

Itto licked his lips, then grinned—wide, goofy, dangerous.

“…You wanna do that again sometime?”

Crimson & Crush

The battlefield had seen its fair share of warriors, but none like you.

Childe had fought all kinds of opponents—graceful assassins, towering brutes, even the strongest warriors in the Fatui—but you? You were different. Your presence alone was something he hadn’t accounted for. He had expected elegance, something fragile, something easy to overwhelm. Instead, he was met with raw power wrapped in a frame that defied every expectation.

And damn, did he love it.

He whistled low, arms crossed as he gave you a slow, appreciative once-over. The grin spreading across his lips was cocky, but there was an unmistakable gleam of admiration in his eyes.

“They don’t make ‘em like you in Snezhnaya,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed. “Childe—”

“I mean it.” He stepped closer, the teasing lilt in his voice not enough to mask the genuine awe beneath it. “You could probably crush a guy between those thighs.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “Are you volunteering?”

And oh, the way his cocky grin faltered for just a second—the way his ears burned, the flicker of something electric in his sea-blue eyes—told you everything you needed to know.

That was how you found yourself here, straddling the infamous Harbinger with his back pressed against the floor, breathless and flushed as your thick, powerful thighs locked around his head.

Childe was a man of battle, of blood and adrenaline. He had trained endlessly, pushed his body to the limits time and time again. But this? This was something entirely different.

He had underestimated you.

Your thighs clenched around his skull firmly, cutting off his breath in a way that sent a dangerous thrill down his spine. His hands, once so sure, so steady, now gripped at your hips as if to ground himself. His legs kicked out slightly, instinctive, but it wasn’t a move of resistance—it was pure, unfiltered shock.

He groaned, muffled by the sheer force of you, and you grinned down at him.

“What was that?” you teased, voice as sweet as honey but laced with undeniable dominance. “Speak up, Childe. Can’t hear you.”

A muffled whimper was his only response.

Oh, you liked that.

You shifted slightly, pressing your thighs tighter, reveling in the way his body tensed beneath you. His fingers dug into your skin, not to push you away but to hold on, to steady himself against the overwhelming sensation of being completely at your mercy.

You reached down, brushing his tousled ginger hair away from his forehead, tracing your fingers along the sharp lines of his jaw. His eyes, half-lidded and hazy, flickered up to meet yours, and the sheer desperation in them sent a spark of satisfaction through your veins.

“Still think you can handle me?” you murmured, tilting your head.

Childe, to his credit, tried to respond, but the words were lost beneath the pressure of your thighs. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his pupils blown wide, his body thrumming with something primal, something bordering on worship.

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you eased up just slightly, letting him take a breath. He gasped, sucking in air like a man starved, but his hands never left your thighs. If anything, they squeezed tighter, anchoring himself to you.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “That—” He swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “That was—”

You arched a brow, waiting.

His chest heaved, and then he grinned—wide, unrepentant, eyes shining with something feverish.

“Amazing.”

You laughed, leaning down until your lips were just a breath away from his. “Oh, Childe,” you purred, voice dripping with amusement, “we’re just getting started.”

And the way his breath hitched, the way his grip on your hips tightened, told you that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Weight of Water

Neuvillette was not a man easily shaken.

His existence spanned centuries, his knowledge vast, his emotions carefully measured like the tides. He had witnessed storms rage and seas settle, had presided over justice with the impartiality of rain falling upon all.

And yet—

“Oh.”

The single syllable escaped him before he could stop it.

You turned, giving him a curious glance. “Oh?”

Neuvillette blinked, caught in the act of openly staring. His throat worked as if to correct himself, but nothing came. You stood there, obliviously radiant, your presence a force all its own.

Strong. Unapologetic. Unshaken.

You were unlike the delicate figures carved into Fontaine’s fountains, unlike the refined nobility that whispered their pleasantries in court. You were something solid, something real, something that made the very water in his veins stir.

He swallowed. “Forgive me. That was… unprofessional.”

You tilted your head, amusement flickering in your gaze. “So, what was the ‘oh’ for, then?”

Neuvillette hesitated, hands clasped neatly behind his back. The words were improper. Indiscreet. But they burned his tongue regardless.

“You are…” He exhaled, slow and controlled. “Magnificent.”

A slow smile curved your lips. “Oh?” you echoed, stepping closer. “Magnificent, huh? Didn’t take you for the type to say something so bold, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

His gaze flickered away for just a second, his usual composure shifting beneath something far less steady. “It was merely an observation,” he murmured. “One cannot ignore the presence of a storm.”

You grinned. “Storms can be dangerous, you know.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I am aware.”

And yet, he did not step back.

The idea struck you then—an invitation, a challenge. Would he yield, this unshakable man of order? Would he bend beneath the weight of something stronger?

There was only one way to find out.

And that was how the Iudex of Fontaine found himself beneath you.

His back pressed against the cold stone floor, the only warmth he knew now was you. Your thighs, soft and unyielding, pressed against either side of his face, a contrast of comfort and absolute, undeniable strength.

A lesser man would have fought, would have flailed, would have yielded in a different way.

Neuvillette did none of those things.

Instead, he accepted it.

His breath came slow, measured—but there was no mistaking the tension in his fingers as they hovered over your legs, unsure whether to grasp or yield completely. His body, usually held with such rigid control, lay still beneath you, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

It was almost reverent.

You smirked, tilting your head. “No protests?”

A muffled sound—not quite a groan, not quite a sigh—escaped him.

You squeezed just a little tighter.

That did it.

His fingers twitched, gripping at the fabric of your clothing as his breath hitched beneath the weight of you. His composure cracked, just enough to let something slip—a low, shuddering exhale that sent a thrill up your spine.

“Oh?” you teased. “Did you just sigh?”

Neuvillette’s lips parted, his voice barely audible beneath you. “It is… quite overwhelming.”

You hummed, shifting just slightly. “Should I stop?”

A beat of silence.

“…No.”

Your grin widened. “No?”

His hands tightened their grip. His pupils, though half-lidded and darkened, held no deception. Only acceptance.

“…No.”

You exhaled, pleased. “Good.”

So you did not stop.

You did not stop as his breath grew shallow, as his pulse stuttered beneath your touch. You did not stop as his fingers clung just a little tighter, as the weight of centuries-old restraint melted away beneath something far, far stronger.

And Neuvillette, for the first time in a long, long time, let himself drown.

A Masterpiece in Motion

Kaveh had always considered himself a man of refined taste.

An artist. A visionary. Someone who saw beauty in its purest forms—be it the curvature of an archway, the intricate symmetry of a grand hall, or the way light filtered through stained glass to cast colors upon marble floors.

But you?

Oh, you were something else entirely.

A masterpiece in motion.

He had seen all kinds of beauty in his life—the delicate, fragile kind that artists revered, the kind that inspired poetry and sculptures and whispered sonnets. But you weren’t some dainty thing meant to be admired from a distance. No, you were real. You were warm, and so utterly breathtaking that it sent his poor artist’s heart into overdrive.

And so, before his brain could catch up with his mouth, the words spilled out.

“Oh, Archons, you’re gorgeous.”

The moment they left his lips, he froze. His eyes went wide. He knew, instantly, that he had said that out loud.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Did you just say that out loud?”

“I—what? No! I mean, yes! But—” He sputtered, his hands flailing as if he could physically snatch the words back from existence. “Listen, I am an architect, I have an eye for beauty, I can appreciate form, and—”

You grinned, utterly delighted. “So you’re saying you like what you see?”

Kaveh made a noise somewhere between a strangled laugh and a dying man’s last breath. His entire face burned, his hands frozen midair as if he were about to sculpt a defense out of sheer panic.

“I—well—” He swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at you. “It would be objectively incorrect to say otherwise.”

You stepped closer, the shift in distance making his breath catch. “Good,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Then let’s see how much you really appreciate form.”

That was how Kaveh found himself sprawled across the floor, his world framed by the breathtaking curve of your thighs around his head.

For a man who prided himself on eloquence, all thoughts had promptly evaporated.

He had always admired beauty from a respectful distance, always sought perfection in lines and symmetry, but this—this was a whole new experience. The sheer, unyielding strength of you, the way your thighs flexed against the sides of his head—it was overwhelming.

His hands, trembling slightly, settled against your thighs as if to steady himself. But Archons, you were soft and firm all at once, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He let out a choked whimper.

You laughed, the sound sending a delightful shiver down his spine. “Oh? You sound like you’re struggling.”

Kaveh’s brain scrambled for something—anything—to say, but all he managed was a muffled, desperate sound as your thighs clenched just a little tighter.

You were relentless.

He felt lightheaded in the most intoxicating way. His fingers twitched against your skin, his face burning from more than just the lack of air. He was losing—and worse, he was loving it.

“This is quite the dilemma,” you mused, voice dripping with amusement. “You love beauty, don’t you, Kaveh?”

He let out a strangled noise of agreement.

“And you think I’m beautiful, don’t you?”

Another muffled whimper. His dignity was in shambles.

You smirked. “Then it would be a shame if you passed out before you could admire me properly.”

The warning was there, but you did not ease up.

Kaveh’s hands, so used to sketching delicate lines and tracing the edges of blueprints, now gripped onto you like a lifeline. His legs twitched, his chest heaved, and his mind was an absolute mess.

He was in heaven.

Just as his vision started to blur, you finally let up—just a bit—just enough for him to gasp in air, his body shuddering as oxygen rushed back into his lungs.

His head lolled back against the floor, golden eyes dazed, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, his entire being struggling to process what had just happened.

Then, with what little strength he had left, he laughed. Breathless, shaky, but full of something dangerously close to adoration.

“By the Seven,” he wheezed, rubbing at his flushed face. “That was—”

“Beautiful?” you teased.

His fingers dragged down his face as he let out a helpless groan. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grinned, leaning down until your face was mere inches from his. “You’re an architect, Kaveh. Shouldn’t you appreciate a structure that can crush?”

Kaveh’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating.

“…Would it be terribly improper if I asked you to do it again?”

Your laughter rang through the room, and Kaveh swore it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Frostbitten, Breathless, Defeated

Kaeya prided himself on being unshakable.

Smooth, charming, always in control—no matter the situation. He had faced off against bandits, Abyss creatures, and the political vipers of Mondstadt alike, all with that ever-present smirk and a glint in his eye. Nothing rattled him.

At least, that was what he thought.

Until you walked in, until he really looked at you.

Not just in the casual way he admired beauty wherever he went, but in a way that hit him like a punch to the gut.

Because Archons above, you were stunning.

Not in the delicate, ethereal way of Mondstadt’s high society, nor in the graceful, willowy way of dancers in the tavern. No, you were different. You were real, grounded, exuding a confidence that sent an unexpected thrill down his spine. You were bold, powerful, and the way you carried yourself—like you feared nothing—made something deep in his chest tighten.

Kaeya Alberich was not an easy man to fluster.

But suddenly, his usual tricks, his teasing smiles and honeyed words, felt pathetic in the face of you.

Which was exactly why his brain short-circuited when you stepped up to him, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on your lips.

“Something wrong, Cavalry Captain?” you mused. “You’ve been staring.”

Kaeya blinked. Then, because he was Kaeya, he recovered quickly.

“Well,” he drawled, flashing that lazy, practiced grin, “forgive me for admiring perfection up close. It’s not every day I see someone who could put the knights to shame.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Oh? And what exactly about me is so impressive?”

Kaeya let his eye flicker over you, his grin widening. “Strength, confidence, a very distracting pair of—”

You raised an eyebrow.

Kaeya coughed into his fist. “—eyes. Obviously.”

You snorted. “Uh-huh. That’s what you were going to say.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Would you have preferred I said thighs?”

For the briefest second, you didn’t react.

Then—

“Oh? You mean these?”

And before he could process what was happening, before he could even think about a clever escape, his world flipped.

Kaeya barely had time to register the feeling of his back hitting the floor, the air leaving his lungs in a rush, before—

Oh.

There were many things Kaeya had expected in life. Many ways he had imagined dying.

But being thigh-crushed into oblivion had not been one of them.

Your thighs were wrapped snug around his head, firm, unyielding. And Kaeya, who had spent years perfecting the art of control, of keeping his emotions in check—who had mastered deception and the art of keeping himself unreadable—

Was completely. Falling. Apart.

His gloved hands flew to your thighs on instinct, fingers twitching as if caught between holding on for dear life and praying you never let go.

His heart was hammering. His head was spinning. A full-body shudder ran down his spine as you squeezed, just a little.

He let out a strangled noise that he would never admit to making.

"Awhh, Kaeya,” you purred above him. “You got awfully quiet.”

Kaeya’s fingers dug into your thighs, his breath coming out in short, unsteady gasps. His pride was in tatters, his mind blank, and yet—

Yet, he loved every second of it.

You smirked. “Oh? Is that a shiver, Captain? Is Mondstadt’s finest getting a little overwhelmed?”

Kaeya, who had always been the one in control, always the one with the upper hand, was now reduced to a mess.

His eye fluttered shut for a moment, and he hated how breathless he sounded when he muttered, “I—wouldn’t call it overwhelmed.”

You leaned down, voice smooth as silk. “No?”

Another squeeze.

Kaeya whined.

You grinned.

“That definitely sounded like overwhelmed,” you teased.

His hands clenched. His jaw tensed. He knew—knew without a doubt—that if Diluc or Jean or literally anyone walked in right now, he would never, ever recover from the shame.

But Archons, it was so worth it.

Just as his vision started to blur, you finally relented, easing up just enough for him to gulp in air.

Kaeya lay there, sprawled on the floor, his breath ragged, his limbs weak. His head was spinning. His pulse was wild.

And yet—

Yet, even as you stood, stretching like nothing had happened, he found himself blinking up at you with something dangerously close to adoration.

“…So,” he rasped, voice rough but still playful, “do I get a round two, or was that a one-time privilege?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re already asking for another?”

Kaeya grinned, slow and lazy, even as his chest still rose and fell in deep, exhausted breaths.

“My dear,” he purred, “I may be many things, but a fool is not one of them.”

Your smirk widened. “Then I hope you don’t have anywhere to be for the next few hours.”

Kaeya’s breath hitched.

His smile?

Positively wolfish.

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robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap · 5 months ago

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Genshin Impact headcanons

BIG TITTIE COMMITTEE

Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Childe & Wriothsley

Contents: Big tiddie men react to you (their partner) shoving your face in their tiddies.

Warnings: men tiddies, suggestive content, slight nsfw, fluff

Itto

"Hey, babe- What are you doing?" Itto laughed in surprise at your sudden affection. You feel his hard chest rumble as he laughs, making you nuzzle your face between his pecks. Both of your hands reach up and grope his muscular pecks, lightly squeezing them.

"Woah there! Getting handsy are we? Two can play at that game, baby." Itto reached down and grabbed you by the waist with two large, strong hands and easily hoisted you up so your own chest was level with his face.

"Hey! I was enjoying myself there!" You whined at him, giggling lightly at his fluffy white hair tickling you as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. He stopped and looked up at you with a smirk.

"Don't worry, I got something else for you to enjoy."

Did I mention that he has nipple piercings?

Kaeya

You were truly at your wits end with Kaeya. All day you'd been watching him strut in and out of your office, delivering you paperwork in his usual outfit. Only throughout the day, you had noticed something strange. Every time you saw him, his undershirt seemingly became lower and lower. He'd also made sure to bend over your desk every time he passed you your work, giving you full view down his shirt.

You'd finally had enough by the end of the day. It was late and everyone in the knights of Favonious' headquarters had gone home -- besides the usual knights that guarded the front entrance, yourself and of course Kaeya. You had just finished signing your final piece of paperwork when your blue-haired partner slinked through your door.

"Finished yet?" You looked at him, immediately taking note of his teasing smirk.

"Not yet." You paused, your eyes dropping down to his semi-bare chest, "There's still something I need to do." You look back up into his eye. You motioned him over with a single finger. Once he stood before you, you grip him by his ridiculously slender waist and pull him into your lap, finally burrowing your face into his firm-but-ample chest.

"My, my~ It seems somebody has been struggling today." Kaeya mused, his arms hugging your shoulders. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you all day. You groan into the valley between his pecks.

"Kaeya, you're truly evil." He laughed at your defeated tone.

"I know." With that, he pulls you up into a kiss.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was perched in his usual reading corner when you arrived home from class. He greeted you and continued his reading. You had a very long and tiresome day at the academia that day. It seemed like nothing you did was right and it made you want to crawl into a hole and cry. You needed your boyfriend.

Alhaitham looks up at you as you approach him. "Can I touch you?" You ask, knowing sometimes your boyfriend gets a little overstimulated after a long day at the academia.

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he sets his book down and moves himself into a more comfortable position to accommodate you. "Of course." You immediately fall onto his lap and bury your head into his chest, his pecks making for a good pillow to rest your head and his heartbeat calming your soul. You close your eyes and just listen, enjoying the calm ambience.

"Has something happened today?" He asks. You shake your head and mumble, "Jus' needed you." You look up from his chest and see a light blush dusting his ears and face. His strong arms tighten around your body and he gently kisses your forehead.

No more words were exchanged for a while after that. You both just enjoyed the quiet ambience of each others company...

That was until Kaveh came home after his class and complained both your ears off about a project he was assigned.

(Autistic Alhaitham is real.)

Childe

Despite your husband being a fearsome harbinger of the fatui, he was gentle with you. Even during your episodes of play fighting. Ajax laughed loudly as you attempt to tackle him to your shared bed. He'd just made it back home from his business trip to Liyue and you were eager to get your hands on your ginger partner.

You had missed him dearly, but you also understood that his work was extremely important and he even had to complete quests asked of him by the beloved Tsaritsa herself. "I swear I'm going to lock you up so you cannot leave me again." You wrapped your arms and legs around his sturdy body, nuzzling your face into his neck and taking in his familiar scent.

Ajax chuckled and hugged you tighter. "Alright." He sat you both down on the bed where you finally pulled away to take in his appearance. You raised an eyebrow.

"A harness, Ajax? This is what the fatui have you wearing?" You tugged on his chest harness, enjoying the way his body came forward with it. "Yes, they do. Got a problem with that?" He asked, amused by the question.

"Perhaps I really should lock you away." Your hands ran over his chest, admiring the way it looked with the harness tightened around it. You flatten your hand in the middle of his chest and shove him down, leaning over to look him in the eye. "Can't have anyone else seeing you this."

The ginger raised an eyebrow and smirked, watching as you stared at his chest with a glazed look in your eyes. That's when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, making sure to leave the harness on. Once his shirt is unbuttoned, that is when you strike.

You waste no time shoving your face into his pecs, gripping them with both your hands and squeezing them together. Ajax laughs, his hands rub up and down your waist, as you continue your assault. That's when you bite. His whole body twitches and he lets out a yelp. "H-hey!" This does not deter you though. You've been without this man for weeks and you're determined to get your fill of him. You nip, suck and bite across his chest, leaving marks in your path. By the end of it, your husband was thoroughly ruffled, his face sporting a deep blush and his chest and neck covered in marks left by you. You sat up and smirked in satisfaction with your work. You meet his half lidded eyes.

"Take off your clothes.... Leave the harness on though."

You'd truly never seen this man move faster.

Wriothesley

You had been pissing Wriothesley off all day. You'd made it your objective today to see how long it would take him to crack before he punished you -- And you were doing a hell of a good job of it.

The Duke was at his wits end with you. You'd purposely been flaunting around his office all day in your skimpiest clothes and talking back to him. Making sexual innuendos at every possible opportunity and even going as far as to flirt with guards in front of him. It was an hour away from lights out and he was almost done with his paperwork when you sauntered out of your shared bedroom, and back into his office. He immediately gritted his teeth. You were in nothing but one of his dress shirts.

You were thoroughly enjoying the reactions you so easily drew out of your husband. It was immensely entertaining to you. Especially since there was little to do in the Fortress of Meropide. I mean, what did he expect locking you down here?

You sauntered your way over to him, taking no notice of the work he was doing and drape yourself across his lap. He let out a deep growl of your name. You only smirk up at him in response and play with the tie around his neck, tugging on it.

"What's wrong with you today?" He grumbled out, his tone frustrated.

"Bored," You say nonchalantly. "And I want attention." You run your finger down his chest, picking at the dip in his dress shirt. Wriothesley let out a groan. "So you've distracted me all day? Because you wanted attention?"

You grinned up at him, "Yep." You said, popping the P. He let out a sigh and shook his head at your ridiculousness. "Well, I have a few more things to do. Do not distract me." You didn't reply.

The Duke continued to do his work, ignoring you completely. You pouted. Then an idea bloomed in your head and your gaze dropped down to the muscular chest before you.

Wriothesley let out a yelp. You were too busy groping him to notice. You had your face shoved between his tits, rubbing your face in the grey chest hair between them, your hands slipped into his shirt, squeezing and pulling at his pierced nipples.

"Okay, that's it." He gripped the back of your collar and pulled you out of his cleavage like a scolded kitten.

"Hey! I was busy-" You were cut off by him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and storming off with you to your shared bedroom.

It was going to be a long night for you.

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