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evilgwrl · 18 hours

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What abt 141xpregnant!reader (or not pregnant, ur choice, I dont mind!!) And someone gets into their house and reader is all alone so she calls the boys while they're out (somewhere idk)

can be angst or fluff <3

Thank you for this idea, I hope I did it justice for you anon <3

CW: Threats of violence (not against reader), break ins, fluff

You stared at yourself in the glossy reflection, soaked rag scented with the unmistakable smell of cleaning spray dabbing at the final fingerprint, a satisfied grin on your face. You hobbled to the kitchen, ankles slightly swollen as a hand rubbed against the plushness of your belly, a gentle kick answering you back.

You felt content. You were six months pregnant and surrounded by four incredibly devoted men (who were currently running all the errands you could no longer do). Gentle feet padded against the wooden floorboards, your back humming with a subtle ache as you groaned, your body flopping down against your comfiest pillow.

Wispy lashes fell over curled lids, the zip of a fan hushing you to sleep. You awoke to rustling, your window cracked open for fresh air.

“Stupid foxes,” you muttered, rolling towards the window to shoo the pesky creatures away from your vegetables. Your heart halted, however, face a pasty shade of terror as you watched a figure, much larger than a fox, break the glass to your back door, the stone floor of your patio humming against the shards of crystal.

Pesky fingers reached for your phone, a monotone strain coming from your throat as you phoned for Price, eyes now a glassy bowl of unshed tears.

“Hey love, you ok?” The normally comforting tone only spurred your anxiety as you choked out a sob, an instant call of your name blasting through the speakers of the phone.

“There’s someone inside the house,” you choked out, your voice a mere whisper as you huddled in the corner, fingers twisting the lock on your bedroom door.

“Call Gaz in the meantime; we’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

You were a whimpering mess, swollen body trembling in your ensuite as Gaz attempted to calm you down, telling you the police were on the way. There was a commotion downstairs, kitchenware clattering as you presumed, he was rummaging around. Timber creaked under a lead foot, stairs straining under the man's weight as he stomped upstairs.

“Kyle, he’s upstairs,” you trembled, your throat constricted with a coil of anxiety as your limbs tremored, a protective hand strung across the swell of your belly. The Sergeant’s voice brought you no comfort as you heard the door to the nursery swing open, the squeak of a baby toy rattling against the wood. Your gut was burning, tender hands clutching against the marble counter in a motion to hold yourself up, your knees locking up as you clattered to the floor.

Price’s hands were stained permanent ivory, his knuckles protruding from broken skin as he pulled down your street, head beams flickering at the cars before calloused tyres screeched down a turning lane, the bulky SUV swerving into the driveway. Simon had rummaged through the glovebox on the first ring of your call, massive frame bouldering out of the unparked car as his keys twitched in the door, the steady frame of Soap in toe.

Rough fingers wrapped around carbon steel, silent footsteps thrumming against wallpaper as you shifted in the bathroom, gentle sobs wracking through your body.

You were unaware of what was going on outside your bedroom, the faint sounds of a man’s voice, unrecognisable through the thickness of the walls only spurring anxiety shrill of terror through you.

You knew they would never let anything happen to you, but what if something happened to them in the process? Sure, they were trained for combat but that doesn’t make you invincible.

You clutched your stomach, humming to yourself in an attempt to calm down.

Simon was livid, they all were. The house you had built for them all years ago was now tainted. A place you should be safe in was no longer available.

Soap’s voice was sharp as he entered the nursery, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of watching the intruder still as the safety of the gun unlocked.

“You make a f’cking movement and I’ll put a bullet in ye head, ye hear me?”

There was a slow nod from the man as Ghost entered, slamming him against the wall with a crash, his hands tied behind his back as he lunged him down the stairs. There was a faint echo of sirens in the distance as you sheltered yourself, still unsure of what was happening.

There was a rattle against the door, a soft voice calling out to you.

“It’s just me, love. Open the door.”

The doorknob felt crumbly under your touch, fingers barely able to twist it. Price’s body was warm as he engulfed your shaking figure, wet cheeks staining his shirt in a soppy mess. Thick hands grabbed at the plush of your thighs, lifting you with ease into burly arms, the tickle of his moustache against your ears as he lolled a soft apology to you.

“Shouldn’t ‘ave left you alone dove, feel like I failed you.”

The captain’s heart was bleak, an ephemeral feeling of guilt worn on his shoulder before you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, soggy lips placing a feathery kiss upon the worn skin.

“It’s not your fault, John. Could’ve happened to anyone on our street.”

The night was slow, Gaz consoling the police as Soap and Price comforted you, tending to your every need as Ghost stood outside, dark eyes glaring into the back of the police van at the man. You assured them you were okay, delicate hands rubbing your belly as you cooed, your heart finally returning to its normal bpm.

Once the blaring of red and blue lights simmered to a halt, and Ghost had run out to get a replacement door (otherwise, he wouldn’t have slept from keeping guard all night), you could fully relax. Your body was flush against the comfort of your L-shaped couch and Simon’s calloused back, fingers running through the roots of your hair.

Your eyes succumbed to temporary slumber at the touch, scalp tingling from the simplicity of gentle tugs. You were carried to bed, arms balled at the soft cotton of Soap’s shirt you had stolen. You nestled quickly into the comfort of your bed, lashes flat against your cheeks.

They all watched you, hands folded as they watched the rise of your chest, a flutter of breath leaving your lips every time it fell.

“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Price mumbled, cerulean eyes lapping in the mere sight of you, a proud glow comforting him knowing you were theirs.

“Damn right,” Ghost grunted.

There was a creak against the floorboards as your eyes opened, your voice delicate with sleep, “Will you guys stay tonight? All of you? Please.”

“Shoot us in the head if we ever say no to anything you say,” Soap uttered, a gentle slap whacking around his head from Simon as Kyle leaned into the bed, heavy hands immediately wrapping around your swell belly.

The night ended with whispers of affirmation and one happy girl.

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odoraful · 3 months

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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓

wriothesley has been hesitant to tell you about his past, afraid that it will tarnish your view of him. reconciling with this is no easy task, but he has you by his side to guide him

content: wriothesley x gn!reader; established relationship; 'baby' pet name; reader and wriothesley live together; nightmare sequence; mentions of blood; spoilers to wrio story quest!; reader doesn't know the full truth of wriothesley's past; wriothesley worried about how good of a partner he is :( ; hurt/comfort; reverse comfort; 4k words

a/n: i just wanna gently hold wriothesley and tell him that he's doing so well <3 also i give full credit to critical role and the wonderful talisen jaffe for the quote "pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people"

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Before opening his eyes, Wriothesley smelled iron. Pungent and pervasive. It filled his nostrils and sunk unpleasantly in his churning stomach. He knew he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface, but that was about as much information he was certain about. Where he was or how he ended up in this state escaped him.

He tested his other senses. Every swallow of saliva went down like sand in his throat. His fingers were limp as he tried squeezing them into fists, the strength siphoned out of him. Slowly regaining some sense of himself again, he could finally label what the scent was. Blood.

At that realisation, he peeled opened his eyes, dreading the scene he would find himself in. A scene he knew that would be painfully similar to memories he quashed a long time ago. He grimly thought whether the blood would be trailing from his hands, or already dried up beneath him, a red dye stained on the floorboards. The lights above accosted him, dazzling his vision. Fontainian households were always so bright, and it didn’t help that the walls of them were white too. But, even then, there were always nooks and crannies shrouded in darkness. Wriothesley found that the more glittering lights there were, the darker the shadows they casted.

He sat up with a groan, his body the weight of bricks. Looking around, there was no such scene he imagined before him. The room he was in was… ordinary. Pristine white walls lined with book shelves against spotless light timber flooring. A fireplace was tucked between two shelves, where the hearth held blackened remnants of burned wood. Wriothesley was situated on the floor between the fireplace and two brown cushioned sofas facing each other separated by a low table. He swore there were other furnishings in the room, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on them. The edges of his vision blurred and he couldn’t make out any other details besides what was most salient.

It wasn’t necessary though.

He knew where he was.

He was almost even in the exact spot they found him slumped in when he was a boy. Back rested against a bookshelf, hollow eyes gazing into the distance. The officers were unable to hide the pure shock on their faces at the grisly tableau in front of them.

Bile rose in Wriothesley’s throat. Despite there being no evidence of violence, the scent of blood lingered in the air, filling his lungs. He went to stand, the movement ungraceful and slow, as if he were swimming in the ocean with thick layers of clothing on. Lying on the floor wouldn’t do well for his nausea. He walked towards to sofa to sit and assess this situation. Sinking into the cushions, he rubbed his temples with his hands.

He thought this house had long since been torn down. How had he been taken back to his old home? His mind sharply retracted those words. No, he wouldn’t call it that. Home was a place of safety and love, but the place he grew up in was built on a foundation of lies and malice. The only small glimmer of home he could recall was his bonds with his siblings.

“█████.”

A voice whispered from just beside his ear, as if speaking a secret.

Wriothesley’s skin prickled. His head snapped around, but he was only met with empty space.

Impossible, he thought. No one who should know that name. He buried it a long time ago when he was handcuffed to the bed in that emergency ward. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Digging up memories of his past.

“█████, where did you go?”

This time, a different, more louder voice came from the opposite direction. Wriothesley could make out its qualities—young and wistful. It was that of a child.

Wriothesley was not often scared. When someone like him had seen both the worst and best of what life had to offer, he was seldom caught off guard. Even backed into a corner, there was always a way out for him. A few carefully chosen words was his preferred method, but now, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Hearing that name being said aloud chilled him to his bones. The colour drew from his face, skin turning ghast-like. He was terrified.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

A young girl sniffled, sounding on the verge of tears. Wriothesley scanned the room frantically, trying to find the source of the voices.

“Why did you leave us?”

A young boy this time. Familiarity clawed at the back of Wriothesley’s mind. His eyes bulged in horror.

“█████, we miss you.”

“You said we would play together.”

“They took some of us away.”

“█████, will you ever come back?”

Wriothesley covered his ears, but it did little to quiet the ceaseless voices. Multiple of them spoke at once, rising in urgency, surging around him. Overlapping and defeaning, burrowing into his skull no matter how hard he squeezed and squeezed his ears shut. He was backed into a corner with no way out. He screamed in his head, roaring in agony. He couldn’t stay here, he needed out.

Hearing the pleading of his own mind, Wriothesley jolted awake.

Like a conductor ending a symphony with the close of their hand, the cacophony of voices abruptly stopped.

Void-like silence met him in the waking world.

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He felt his heart lodged in his throat, as if he had been pushed off the tallest point of the Palais Mermonia. Steadying his shallow breathing, he pushed his back further into the bedsheets, trying to ground himself.

Just a dream, just a dream. He repeated, sighing loudly. His bedroom had never been a more welcome sight as he sat up, careful not to awake his resting partner. At least, that’s where you should have been. There was no weight of your body beside him. He swept a hand over the bed, and made contact only with the sheets and crumpled quilt blanket.

Still reeling from the terrors of his dream, Wriothesley’s mind drew the worse conclusions. Had you been taken? Had you left him? Panicked, he began to call out your name. His voice was hoarse, but he was glad he could speak after being robbed of it in his dream.

A triangle of yellow light cut into the darkness of the room as the door cracked opened. Relief flooded him seeing you standing there, wrapped in a fluffy robe, hair ruffled.

“Baby, is everything alright?” You asked softly, approaching the bed.

Wriothesley’s chest rose and fell in quick intervals. His body arched over like a crooked branch, shivering ever so slightly. Alarms blared inside you. You had never seen him in this state before.

“I- I thought you had gone somewhere,” he said, voice quavering.

The mattress dipped as you sat atop, kneeling beside him. “I didn’t leave.” You lay a hand on him, watching closely at his expression with a furrowed brow. “I’m here, I’m here,” you soothed gently, rubbing small circles into his shoulder.

He gave into your touch, his posture easing. Seeing him slowly relax, you raised your hands to cradle his face. Warmth radiated through him, expelling whatever anxieties had possessed him. His breath shuddered. Immediately, he nuzzled into your touch, burying his face in the faint scent of soap and lilies. He could stay here forever. It would be all he needed to revitalise his senses and keep him alive. He covered one of your hands with his own, encompassing it completely. His calloused fingers slid between yours—a sensation that contrasted against the softness of his lips as he kissed the inside of your palm. A feather-like touch that caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

“I was just in the bathroom.” You reassured him. Wriothesley hummed in response. “Did something happen?”

He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell you.

“I just had a nightmare.” His voice was muffled, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “It was nothing, really.”

You gently turned his head towards yours, prompting him to focus on you. “It doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

His heart stung at the pure concern on your face. Different from the times when you tended to him when he injured himself whilst boxing, or when you saw him passed out at his desk from his persistent workload. There was desperation layered in your knitted brows and parted lips.

“Let me get you a glass of water.” You said, caressing his face. Hints of stubble brushed under the pads of your thumbs. “You’ll feel a little better after being hydrated.”

Coldness returned to his cheeks as you pulled away. You couldn’t even turn around before Wriothesley’s hands were on you once again. He snaked his arms around your waist, embracing you tightly.

“Don’t go.” He rasped. “Please, stay with me.”

His pleading tugged at your heartstrings. As much as you wanted to stay in his arms, you could tell from his voice just how dry his throat was. “I won’t be far from you. I’ll be gone only for a moment.” You kissed his forehead, sealing your promise.

You waited until he loosened his hold on you (albeit begrudgingly), and hurried out of the room to fetch some water. Wriothesley leaned against the bedhead. His head was clearer now, and he tuned his hearing to the far-away whir of machinery in the Fortress.

He was glad to have a shared room with you away from his working environment. This was an entirely new floor he had extended above his office. The design of which began after he had seen you curled up in sleep on one of his chairs, waiting for him to finish his duties for the day. Resting somewhere backgrounded by piles of administrative paperwork didn’t make for the most relaxing setting. And so, he swiftly drafted plans to create private quarters for the two of you.

After a long day, he would head straight upstairs to meet you. You’d be there snuggled on the lounge with a novel, and his footfalls would be enough for you to abandon your book on the table and rush over to the door. Now, while the sun could not be seen in the stronghold beneath the waves, it found its place with you. In the way your smile beamed and eyes twinkled as you greeted him. You were so, so bright, and yet he could never look away. At first, it almost startled him how easy you gave your love to him. There was no ulterior motive with you. You loved him wholly.

He sadly wondered how quickly your glimmer would fade if he revealed parts of him that had never seen the light.

The tapping of your slippers approached the door, and you entered with a glass and pitcher of water. Placing them both on the bedside table, you poured water into the glass and handed it to him. Wriothesley didn’t realise how parched he was until he took the first sip. Eagerly chugging the rest down, he you in the corner of his eye, chewing on your bottom lip. You were on the cusp of saying something.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, taking the empty glass from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Your dream that is…” You faltered through your words. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you seemed upset when you woke up.”

More than upset, you thought to yourself, afraid.

Wriothesley reached out for you wrist. You let him guide you into bed, slipping under the blankets. He pulled you in closer, arm draped around your waist, until your bodies were flush with each other. Your expectant gaze fell on him. He plastered on an assuring smile, but couldn’t quite draw the corners of his lips up to reach his eyes.

“I was only a bit shaken,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “It had things relating to my past. My subconscious must have it out for me for not letting me get a good night’s rest.” Hopefully that was enough to mollify the true contents of his dream.

You toyed with the edge of the blanket. Wriothesley’s past was something he didn’t divulge in too much detail. Even after being together for some time, all you knew was that his childhood was a difficult time, and he had to run away from his foster parents home. You had a good sense that he no longer wished to recall these events from the way he was quick to brush off the topic. It was hard for you to balance between wanting to know more, and also respecting his privacy.

“You know that you can tell me about anything that’s bothering you, right?”

Your eyes never left his, watching the way they brimmed with fondness as he answered.

“Of course I know that baby, it’s just that…” His eyes casted downwards.

In his line of work, keeping up a poker-face meant keeping things under control. However, with you, he never hid his true emotions, and you saw conflict dance across his features.

“I’m worried it might change how you see me,” he confessed, fidgeting with his fingers as if he were itching to move.

“Wriothesley,” you covered a hand over his, halting his movement, “nothing will make me change the way I see you now. You aren’t the same person as you were back when you were young.”

Those words settled in his mind, prodding at the uncertainties he had about opening up. You continued,

“You can share anything about your past with me. And, what is it they say…” You tried to recall a line you had read recently. “A burden shared is a burden halved?”

He couldn’t fight back a smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips. “Putting those philosophical books you’re reading to use?”

“Actually, it’s a collection of poetry from Mondstadt.” You corrected, pursing your lips smugly.

He breathed a laugh, spirits lightening at how endearing his partner was.

From the day he selected a new name for himself, he chose to begin anew. Although he knew that nothing in his past constituted any part of his life now, it still clung to him. A fog clouding his mind during moments of solitude, drawing out doubts that stumbled into the open. If he did tell you the full truth, would you see him as nothing more than someone raised in a loveless place? Who was pushed to do what many considered unthinkable? Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly—ruminating.

You calmly awaited his next words, knowing that you would accept both if he chose to tell you or not.

Wriothesley spoke again,

“I mentioned to you before that I didn’t have the most… peaceful childhood.”

You nodded, grim at the thought of what those adults had done to those innocent children. “Mmm, you told me about your foster parents, and how you ran away from them.”

“Yes, but that’s not the whole truth.”

Pausing, he steeled himself. He caught on a thread that had long since been loose and began to unravel his past.

“After I escaped, I couldn’t shake off the guilt of abandoning my siblings, but there was also no way I could stay in that household after what I had learned.”

He recounted the story in the same way one would read aloud an article published by The Steambird. So separated from his past that he had little inflection in his tone. Even so, you saw a flare of emotion in Wriothesley’s eyes.

“So, I tried to keep myself alive and tried to get stronger, so that I could return and protect them.”

“Archons,” he bowed his head, dark hair falling over his brows, “I don’t even know how much time passed out there, everything seemed to blend together.”

You felt an ache in your chest, like someone had tightly gripped your heart. “I can’t imagine how tough it must have been.” Picturing a younger Wriothesley in your head, frightened and alone, made you shiver.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “It was.” He returned a sad smile to you, though regret laced his words. “I wouldn’t wish that life for anybody, but I did learn a lot.”

“I snuck back into the house after a while of being on the streets. I-“ He rubbed his temple with his free hand, unable to find the right words. “One of my siblings told me that while I was gone, a few of them had been… adopted into other families.”

Your skin turned cold, knowing exactly what that meant.

“I-I think I heard their voices in my dream.” His voice wavered, face scrunching up as he remembered those ghostly voices in that empty room. “They were asking why I left them there, wondering where I was.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you did return. You swore that you would come back for them and you did,” you asserted.

Shaking his head, he turned his hand over to interlock your fingers with his. “Perhaps I was too late.”

“I found my foster parents sitting happily in the drawing room, and suddenly, I felt so, so angry.” His expression turned sombre, staring down at the blanket covering you two. “At them, at myself, at the world, and something snapped in me and I did the only thing I felt I could do in that moment.”

A heaviness tugged down on his chest as if in protest at the continuation of his sentence. But, there would be no hiding it now. He swallowed thickly.

“I killed them.”

The words left his lips in a whisper, and hung in the space between you.

You stilled. The faint beating of your heart could be felt between your hand in his.

Sensing your stiffness, Wriothesley forced himself to look at you, searching your face in the hopes of finding any kind of reaction. He half expected you to pull away in terror. Disillusioned at the fact that your partner was a murderer. But, he found no such revulsion. Instead, your eyes glossy with tears captured a sadness so sincere and profound that his heart shattered into pieces, piercing him from the inside out.

“It was a long time ago.” With every word he spoke, the shards seemed to dig deeper. “And I definitely don’t associate myself with that person anymore.”

“But, I understand if this changes how you see me. If you need time away-”

“Don’t say that,” you interrupted, shaking your head fervently.

You blinked, tears lining your lower lashes. The sight of your partner blurred slightly in your vision, his face contorted in pain. You understood. The distance he wanted to put between you was merely a façade. Buried beneath it was a wordless plea for you to stay. He had bared everything to you, and you would not let him hurt by himself any longer.

“It doesn’t change how I feel towards you.” Determination rose in your cracked voice. “You were so young. No child should ever be placed in a position like that.”

Surely, there must be some part of him that agreed. Some part that would allow forgiveness. Wriothesley’s gaze flicked between your eyes, lost in your expression, as was you in his. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I-I can’t be the one to say whether it was the right thing to do,” you continued, “but what I do know is that you were just a child who needed to survive and wanted to protect those you cared about.”

How many people had treated him with kindness as a child? It upset you to think of all the adults that turned their backs on him. Reducing his character to only what they saw on a case report. Likely considering him to be nothing more than a psychopath. Your pulse thumped in your ears at the injustice of it.

“You are not who you were in the past.” You said slowly, enunciating every word. “Pain doesn’t make people, Wriothesley. It’s love that makes people.”

His expression melted softly. The creases between his brows smoothing.

“And I know that you love and care so strongly, you’ve shown me that every single day.”

Icy blue eyes held so much affection as he stared back at you—transfixed. Now more than ever did he believe you were the sun to him. Basking in your warmth, feeling the comfort of it tingle his skin. What you had said to him had begun to sink in. However, while he couldn’t refute your words, the mindset he had formed could not be altered in a single moment. Perhaps he would not completely believe your words now, but that was alright. You would be there by his side every day to remind him.

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley tested out if his voice was still fit to speak. Though this room was private to the two of you, he spoke quietly, as if he craved only your attention.

“When I was serving my sentence here, I always dreamed about what my new home would be."

He recalled the confinement of his cell, and how his mind would drift from counting the bolts in the metal wall to imagining a new life for himself. Wanting a place that was safe and people he felt at peace with felt like a mirage to him. However, if he could go back in time and speak to his younger self in that cell, he would tell him that things would turn out alright. The journey would not be without difficulties, but he would finally be in a place where he no longer had to look over his shoulder, fearing for his safety. And, he would be with someone who would be proud to call him their love.

“I think I found it here, with you.”

He took the chance to close the distance between you two. His forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes.

“I love you, Wriothesley,” you whispered, instinctively.

His breath caught in his throat. How fortunate he was to have you in his life. Not only to receive your endless love, but to learn just how capable of loving he is.

He whispered back in reply, his breath gently fanning across your cheeks. “I love you too.”

Neither of you broke away, staying in this position for a moment. Everything had been untangled before you, and a odd mixture of both sorrow and solace stirred inside you. Sorrow at listening to what Wriothesley had gone through as a boy, and solace at how tender the man before you was, his hair tickling against your forehead.

You continued to speak softly to each other for a while longer. The conversation floated from his time at the Fortress to how he became its administrator. As he spoke, the accuracy of the quote you shared before was confirmed in the inexplicable lightness he felt in his chest. A burden shared is a burden halved, he recited to himself.

Time drew on, and you both sensed that if you didn’t sleep now, you’d be up until the Fortress’ inmates began their morning shifts. Curling up beside each other, you asked to play big spoon this time so he could fall asleep easier. Though he was taller in stature to you, you insisted on it. If it were a different day, he probably would have put up a greater fight, but there was little argument in him now at the chance of being wrapped up in your arms. He was lulled to rest by your rhythmic inhales and exhales. The night quietened, and no more voices followed him in slumber.

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post a/n: thank you for making it to the hidden easter egg author note haha, i appreciate you greatly, and i hope it was an enjoyable read!!! 🥺 i just wanted to yap about my thought process writing this piece. you definitely don't have to read all this, it's primarily for my own notetaking! <3

i felt like this was probably one of the hardest pieces i've written so far (?) i found it tough to build up that tension of reader not knowing wriothesley's full past and him still grappling with his actions as a young boy, and even what that dialogue would look like! i had to step away and come back a few times just so i could look at this with a fresh pair of eyes. it may not be perfect but i'm glad to have finished this! :')

#odorawrites #genshin wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley

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deviouz · 3 months

Text

INSATIABLE.

WARNINGS / shameless smut so MDNI. satosugu shenanigans. small lil drabble that i didn't proofread (:

GETO SUGURU who comes home to a living space lacking life. it’s quiet, unexpectedly so, and he almost feels offended that neither you nor GOJO SATORU have come to greet him as it was almost ritualistic. the lights are dimmed, though he was still able to pick out the telltale signs of clothes littering the floor, slowly trailing down the hall to the bedroom.

as suguru inched closer to the door, lips curved into a sly smirk, it became more than evident that you and satoru were having a bit of late night fun. through the crack in the door, your quivering body was splayed out on the bed, back arched in a curve that had suguru sucking in a sharp breath. your facial expression was pleasure-struck and mouth left agape as moans filled the room. his eyes trailed down to where one of your hands laid atop a familiar mop of white hair, fingers threading through the soft locks rather desperately.

“fuck, satoru, please!” your voice broke in the end, brows knitted together as your thighs clamped around satoru’s head. it wasn’t surprising in the slightest to hear him moan in response, cruel in his unrelenting.

“one more, baby, jus’ give me one more and i’ll stop, ‘kay?”

suguru almost cooed at the way your head shook side to side, tears welling up in the corners of your pretty eyes. satoru no doubt had you spread out on the bed and cumming on his tongue for hours on end. on a good day he was insatiable.

it was then suguru had decided to make his presence know. the door opened with a soft creak, causing you to gasp and satoru to look up for a second before burying himself between your thighs once again.

any shame you had felt from suguru’s discovery vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. your eyes blearily flitted over his figure, eyes attentively watching as suguru shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the chair in the corner.

it was growing increasingly difficult to keep your eyes trained on suguru, especially with satoru seemingly in competition for your gaze. he had picked up the pace, tongue and fingers working in tandem to have you letting out the sweetest sounds.

“someone’s feeling awfully greedy tonight,” suguru commented, brow raised in a perfect arch. “how long has satoru been between your thighs, my love?”

the bed dipped to your left, making way for his figure. your head was soon turned towards his chest, hands grasping at the fabric of suguru’s shirt as you felt the muscles tighten in your stomach for the umpteenth time that night.

“too long, sugu—! i can’t, ‘toru, please—!”

despite your pitiful attempts to persuade satoru for some semblance of mercy once more, it wasn’t long before he had you tumbling into yet another orgasm. it was hard enough to have you tugging at the bedsheets and damn near crying out in ecstasy — the kind of debauched sound that caused the move from the last apartment, much to your chagrin.

satoru was quick to soothe you, hands coming to massage at your hips and kiss up the expanse of your body until your lips met in a sweet kiss. you could hear him giggle, the fucking audacity, lips melding into yours so perfectly. in the low lights of the bedroom, it was evident that satoru’s lips were swollen and stained a shade of rosy pink, cheeks flushed enough to match. the batting of his eyelashes was almost enough to forgive him and his need for overindulgence. almost.

as suguru’s lips trailed up and down your neck, wandering hand coming to rest at your hip, you knew you were in trouble.

“think you can cum again, sweetheart?”

it was impossible to resist suguru when his voice hit that low timber, soft enough to almost be a purr.

truth be told, both of them were increasingly insatiable and absolute fiends when it came to you.

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elfven-blog · 1 year

Text

Stained in Glass

Summary: The kind priest has taught you a new way to worship. Priest!Leon x Nun!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, age gap, p in v, dubcon, manipulation, fingering, tied up reader, use of authority for manipulation, corruption kink, RELIGIOUS THEMES THROUGHOUT Word count: 1.4K

When you arrived at this church, as a newly vowed nun, it would be an understatement to say you were nervous. The trembling in your hands hadn’t stopped for days, and you had trouble speaking to the sisters of your new home. All that until some sisters of your own age took you into their embrace, and you grew to love the community. Even more so when the priest of the parish seemed to take you under his wing, the older man often gave you advice on both your life and your journey with God.

The other nuns had told you this was a regular thing to happen, that the kind priest would help the newer nuns become more relaxed in the unfamiliar environment. And it did help to have someone not from the area to talk to, someone who had been through what you had to. Especially when it was Father Kennedy, and those pretty blue eyes of his. Especially when it was Father Kennedy, and those hands that seemed to explore every inch of you as he helped you pray properly.

Which is exactly what he was helping you with right now in one of your private sessions. You were both knelt on the floor, his hands having guided you to spread your knees and your hands tied in the correct position “If they’re tied you resist the temptation to move them” his deep timber had whispered into your ear and the end had been tied above you, helping keep your hands up. Those same hands you’d been watching all day while he gave sermons were now resting on your waist.

The blonde leant closer to you, and you swear you could feel his warmth and muscles through your habit. And his hands moved lower, slowly pushing the fabric up until it was over your hips. All in the name of God, he declared. And while you knew none of this was in the teachings, surely a man of God would not show you wrong…after all, how could something that felt so good be a sin.

The warmth of his breath ghosted against your neck as his hands pushed your panties down your trembling thighs, tongue licking at the skin as fingers ghosted over your clit “You’re doing so well, my angel” the word used to feel wrong when he called you that, but now you knew it to be true. You were his heavenly angel, and he your God. Your hands tugged on the rope as he shushed you, his other hand holding you to him by wrapping around your neck.

The divine feeling he gave, was like no other. Nothing could be sweeter than how he helped you worship, and his hands dipped lower until it could gently push into your already dripping cunt. Your almost silent gasps like honey to his ears as he drew more and more from you, almost addicted to the sound. His mouth latched onto your skin, never hard enough to break for no bruises should be in case the other sisters ‘tried to stop your perfect worship’.

Hot tongue lapping at your neck until it was soaked with his drool, his fingers pushing into your clenching hole until your legs shake and the rope has to hold you weight. Leon squeezes at your neck in a way that has you seeing stars and whimpering, the noises only driving him on further as he takes you apart in his private chapel. The colours of the stained glass cast a darker shadow in the night, but it still lets you see the way his eyes darken, the blue swallowed by his pupils. Eyes never leaving the way his fingers disappear into your warmth.

You had spent many nights agonising over thoughts you had believed to be in line with the evil in this world, but thanks to the Father those thoughts had been put to rest. His guidance in moments like this offered peace to your thoughts, and when he showed you what real worship was, the thoughts were gone entirely. After all, his words eased your mind and allowed you to know the truth that these things were no sins.

Your back arched and a moan slipped from your mouth as he added another finger, eyes and mind clouding as he brought you to the brink of pleasure. The tongue on your neck licking up to your ear as he applied that slightly more pressure to your neck. Teeth tugging at your lobe while you whined and tried to beg for more. But you had no need to beg anything of your kind priest, he would happily give anything to his angel.

As he gave in so easily, your slick coating his fingers until your gushing, body slacking against the rope completely and his hand around your throat loosens as he helps you ride your orgasm. Leon does not give you a chance to rest before he is pulling his cock from its confines, the fat tip nudges your clit as his hips rutting at a quickened pace as he chases his own release.

You press your trembling thighs together, and the blondes head falls onto your shoulder in a way where you can feel the quick hot breaths on your neck as he pants. He groans in that low voice he uses for his sermons, the one that has you wet on Sundays and falling apart on his tongue on Mondays.

“That’s it pretty girl, keep ‘em right there for me” and you held them together as close as you could, the soft pillow of your thighs almost causing Leon to lose control as his hand moved to clutch at your hips, nails digging into the skin in a way that would leave bruises in the morning. The self-control he had to have in order to not bend you right there and take what he really wanted. But for that you weren’t ready, still believing in some of your teachings. But no worries, he would have you soon.

For now, the soft friction of your thighs and the slick coating his cock would be enough, especially as your whines pitched up from the oversensitivity of the head continuously nudging the abused clit as you struggled to stay composed. His mouth attached onto your neck again as his hands moved to pinch at your nipples. The buds hardening as his hips stuttered from the sudden squeeze of your thighs, his moans stifled by your skin.

The man was in pure bliss, and if this is how it felt to be nestled between your legs while you let him ravage you…then your sweet pussy must be heaven. You cried out loudly as he tugged your nipples harder, his focus more on his own pleasure than on yours. Your whines and whimpers only driving him further as the head of his cock caught on your dripping hole, and you bit back a pained whimper. Leon lost in the pleasure did not realise as his pace did not let up, the feeling of his cock nudging at the opening had your eyes glazing over, mind turning to filth at what it would feel like.

So you did not stop him as his cock stretched your pussy open, and Leon grinned as he watched himself disappear until he was settled into your cunt. Your body twitching as you begged him to move, pleads falling on deaf ears as he watched you squirm. How he loved to watch you writhe like this until the only thing from your mouth was his name and how good it felt, how stretched you were, how full you were.

That was all it took before he moved his hips at that brutal pace “Your worship is so important” his cock hammered at your cunt, walls clamping down on him as he kicked inside you. Mouth open with saliva drooling down your chin and head back with eyes closed. Leon wondered how far he could push this, after all you’d let him fuck your cunt. “Such a good whore, letting me defile you” and the words sent warmth rushing down.

It was a matter of moments before you were gushing around his cock, and Leon swore he saw the gates of heaven as you did. The feeling of your cunt squeezing down hard onto him, as slick soaked his cock, his legs and dripped down his balls. He pulled you impossibly close as he humped at your pussy, rope after rope of hot seed filling your womb, until he was drained, and you were filled. He pulled out slowly, eyes watching the way your hole clenched around nothing, cum leaking from you and onto the tiled floor.

And if this is how you were meant to truly worship God? How could you ever say no.

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