#wanderer x reader headcanons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovesculprit · 1 month ago

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Ft. Ayato ノ Alhaitham ノ Wanderer ノ Childe ノ Wriothesley ノ Neuvillette

sum: things you do that unintentionally turn them on. wc: 14k - roughly 2k - 2.5k per part

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in alhaitham's), oral (reader givingノreceiving), fingering, come swallowing, handjob in wrio's, mentions of pregnancy/breeding kink in ayato's, out in the open for wanderer's but not caught, 69 in neuvillette's + he carries you

a/n: i liked this until i didn't, which is awkward :')

જ⁀ when he loses to you in a debate - 2k

It felt like the hundredth time that day you’d torn his argument to pieces, your words sharp and precisely calculated. Alhaitham leaned back, eyeing you with a narrowed gaze as he re-evaluated every point you made, searching desperately for a flaw. But there wasn’t one—and that infuriated him.

He was accustomed to being the sharpest mind in the room, to dissecting others’ logic with ease. Yet here you were, dismantling his points without breaking a sweat, meeting him step for step. It should have annoyed him beyond measure. And yet…

His pulse quickened, and he could feel his focus drifting, thoughts derailing as you delivered yet another rebuttal with a slight, victorious curl of your lips. There was a fire in your eyes, a self-assurance that both irritated and exhilarated him, pulling him into an awareness that had little to do with intellectual sparring.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, from the determined glint in your eyes to the way your lips formed around each sharp, defiant word. His jaw clenched, and he felt that familiar frustration morph into something else, something darker, something primal.

“Nothing to say?” you prodded with a smug smile, savouring your apparent win. “That’s not like you, Alhaitham.”

His eyes darkened. For a second, the composed mask slipped, and the heat simmering beneath flickered to the surface. “I could argue,” he replied, his voice low, dangerously calm. “But it seems you’re enjoying this far too much.”

The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else, something unwilling—an almost grudging respect. You’d pushed him to the edge, stripped him of his usual control, and a part of him both resented and admired your nerve. But there was no denying it: you were driving him insane.

A charged silence hung between you, and he felt it—the heat radiating from your body, the steady rhythm of your breath, so close he could feel it. His own thoughts had scattered, leaving him with nothing but the ache of desire he was no longer able to ignore. Alhaitham stood taller, his expression hardening as his gaze settled on your lips, then drifted back to meet your eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, his voice roughened by tension. But the bite was gone from his tone, replaced by something unspoken, something magnetic.

Suddenly, he moved, his body pressing you back against the bookshelf, his hands bracketing you, and every other word disappeared from his mind. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper in your ear. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, “always knowing just what to say to get under my skin.”

You felt his other hand slide down, coming to rest on your hip as he drew you closer. Every inch of his lean frame was now flush against you, his erection pressing insistently through the layers between you. The last of his restraint was slipping, replaced by a raw intensity that left no space for pretences.

His lips grazed along your neck, each touch sending a shudder of heat through you as his breath came hot and uneven while he slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers trailing possessively over skin that was bare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting against your neck. “Pushing me, daring me. Now, let’s see just how far you can go.”

In a single, bruising kiss, he claimed your mouth, his hands now exploring the lines and curves of your body with a feverish hunger, mapping out every reaction he’d managed to draw from you. His kiss was fierce and commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tasted every inch of you, unravelling the last threads of your composure.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the bookshelf. A few books tumbled from the shelves, forgotten in the heat building between you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against your shoulder, his voice low and dark. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rough with need, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, fingertips trailing against your skin. “All this time, getting under my skin… has it been driving you mad, too?”

Alhaitham’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the warmth radiating through the thin damp fabric of your underwear. A quiet groan escapes him, a sound rough with desire, as he felt your wetness, his own anticipation building with every heartbeat.

"You're so fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slip under the fabric, sliding through your slick folds. "All this time, you've been getting off on our arguments, haven't you? Getting yourself all worked up, imagining me bending you over and fucking you in my office."

He circles your clit with his thumb, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he works you over with his skilled fingers.

"I bet you've touched yourself thinking about me," he continues, his words filthy and raw. "Imagined my cock splitting you open, making you moan my name.”

“Shut up, you talk too much-” you mumble.

Alhaitham chuckles darkly at your mumbled plea, his fingers still working between your legs. "No no-. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how much you need my cock."

He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your knees weak. His thumb rubs tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come on, angel. Use that clever tongue of yours for something other than arguing with me. Beg for it."

His other hand slides up under your shirt, roughly palming one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips.

"Or maybe you'd rather I stop altogether? Leave you here, dripping and desperate, with nothing to satisfy you but your own fingers?"

He slows his movements, letting the threat hang in the air. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more friction, more pressure. You're so close, and yet he holds all the power to send you over.

"What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and tell me what you want?”

"Please, need it-"

Alhaitham's fingers still inside you at your breathy plea, your desperate words sending a thrill through him. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, "There we go.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, teasingly. You whimper at the loss, your hips pushing back, seeking to be filled again.

"Ah ah," he tuts, his hand resting on your ass. "Patience. You'll get what you need.”

He steps back, leaving you bent over the bookshelf and aching for him. He undoes his belt, along with the zipper. He approaches his desk drawer, rummaging through before he settles back behind you. You hear the crinkle of foil, the snap of latex, and then the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

Alhaitham runs it along your slit, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. He drags the tip through your folds, covering himself in your sticky arousal.

"Look at you, wanting it so badly," he taunts, his voice a low growl.

He pushes forward, just the tip breaching you, stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, trying to draw him in deeper.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He chuckles darkly, slowly sinking into your heat inch by excruciating inch.

He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, savouring the feel of your tight walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

"That's it-" he encourages, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the good girl you are."

His hand snakes around to your front, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Alhaitham sets a deep, punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The bookcase rocks under the force of his movements; books tumble to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He leans over you, a hand closing on your hip as his cock drives into you relentlessly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl.

He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster now, chasing his own release. Skin slapping against skin fills the room with an obscene sound, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your hot, wet walls clenching around him.

His fingers closed tight around your hips, pinning you down as he thrust with a fervour that made you cling to the bookshelf. “Fuck, I’m close-" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. And just when you thought he’d let go, he pulled away, leaving you empty and aching, the heat between you simmering in the air.

Before you could protest, he spun you around, lifting you onto the edge of his desk. He pushes your legs apart, settling between your thighs once more.

"Wanna’ see your face," he growls, his voice rough with desire.

He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. Then, with one swift thrust, he's buried inside you again, filling you completely.

He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. The desk creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, papers slipping off in a messy cascade to the floor.

He pressed into you, his weight grounding you in place as his lips found yours in a fierce, consuming kiss that left you breathless. When he finally broke away, his mouth traced a heated path down your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your skin, each touch both a promise and a tease. His hips never stop moving, pounding into you with a frenzied energy.

"Come for me," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. "I want to feel you come apart on my cock."

He reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation sending you spiralling towards the edge.

Your walls start to flutter, Your breaths are fast and uneven, your body trembling, teetering just on the edge. “Come on,” he murmured, his movements growing less controlled, more desperate, as he felt his own resolve slipping. “Let go… let me feel you.”

With a final, brutal thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing through your body. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the aftershocks.

Alhaitham follows shortly after, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan against your skin.

You both collapse onto the desk, panting and spent, bodies still joined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter.

"Maybe we should have debates more often...." you joke breathlessly.

"Only if it ends like this." he mutters tirelessly as he leans in, his lips meeting yours.

જ⁀ when you argue with him - 2.5k

“Do you ever think before you act?” you snapped, standing so close to Childe that the heat radiating from him matched your own.

His jaw tightened, and he leaned in, voice rising to meet yours. “Don’t lecture me about thinking ahead! If you’d just trusted me for once, we wouldn’t even need a backup plan!”

“Trust you?” You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, meeting his glare without flinching. “How am I supposed to trust you when you treat this like some game? People could have gotten hurt, Childe! This isn’t just your reckless thrill.”

He scoffed, but something in his eyes softened, though it was quickly swallowed by the intensity burning there. "You think I take this lightly? It’s so damn frustrating to have you question every move I make."

You took another step closer, your heart beating faster as the air between you grew heavier, alive with unspoken tension. "I question your moves because they're reckless, Childe. Because you act like you're the only one who matters!

"That's what you think?" he growled, his voice was low and furious. "That I don't care what happens to the people around me?"

For a moment, there was something raw in his eyes—open and wounded—but you pushed the feeling aside, refusing to let him derail you. "You say you care, but you're so caught up in your ego that you can't see past your own reflection.".

"Ego?" He snorted, but his eyes were wild, almost electric, and he leaned in closer to you, the space between you evaporating. "You're one to talk! Acting like you know everything, like I can't do a single thing out there without you hovering over my shoulder."

“Because I have to! If I don’t, you’d—” Your voice wavered as you became acutely aware of just how close he was, his face inches from yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for the faintest beat before they snapped back to meet yours.

And that’s when it struck you—his cheeks were flushed, his gaze burning with something more than just anger. The tension between you wasn’t just frustration; there was a heat simmering beneath it all, sparking like a fuse, and you could feel it as clearly as the breath between you.

This wasn’t just anger. The challenge, the fight, you standing toe-to-toe with him—it had him caught up in something else entirely.

You sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily thrown. “Are… are you enjoying this?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, incredulous.

Childe didn't even try to hide it; his eyes softened, and a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and charged. "Maybe I am," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Didn't think you had this much fire in you.".

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Childe. I’m trying to get through to you, and you’re—”

“Oh, I’m listening,” he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, rougher. “But I can’t help it if seeing you like this… gets me a little fired up.” His eyes gleamed with a challenging spark, as if daring you to push him further, to keep pushing back.

Your breath caught, but you refused to back down, even as you felt the air between you grow thick with an intensity that was no longer just anger. “You’re… unbelievable,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly.

Childe’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he took that final, daring step closer. His hand found your jaw, fingers brushing your skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. For a heartbeat, the only sound between you was your own uneven breathing as his gaze flicked once more to your lips, lingering there.

“I’m unbelievable, am I?” he murmured, voice barely a breath, but carrying enough intensity to make your pulse race even faster.

"I-"

Before you could respond, his lips met yours with a raw intensity that sent a jolt through you. The kiss was anything but restrained—urgent, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and was finally letting go. His fingers tightened around your jaw, his other hand slipping to your waist to pull you in close, eliminating any trace of space between you.

You matched his intensity, pressing back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight as you poured every ounce of pent-up frustration, tension, and maybe something more into the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into nothing as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that left you breathless.

Childe groaned low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He broke away from your mouth just long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "You drive me crazy," he growled against your throat, his voice rough with need. "Always questioning me, always pushing back. It's fucking hot."

His hands glide along your sides, lifting your shirt in one fluid motion and discarding it as his eyes roamed over you, dark with desire. He paused just briefly, letting the sight of you linger, before his mouth found you again, tracing the curves of your chest with lips and tongue, his fingers deftly working to free you from your bra.

You arched into his touch, head falling back as pleasure sparked through you. Your own hands worked frantically at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Ajax," you gasped out, your voice breathy and wanton. "Please..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what?" he murmured, nipping at your collarbone. "I wanna hear you say it."

You swallowed hard, your mind hazy with desire. "I want you," you managed, your voice trembling. "I want you to fuck me, please-”

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his already hard cock. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing that still separated you.

"I need you," Childe rasped against your lips, his hips rolling against yours in a slow grind. "Right fucking now."

He guided you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, the heated kiss unbroken. He slid down on top of you in one fluid motion, pressing you down onto the bed as he moved with you, pinning you under him, his eyes dark and intense as he took you in. His chest rose and fell with a few heavy breaths as he steadied himself.

"This is your last chance to back out," he whispered, his voice low and rough-edged. "Because once I start, I won't stop until I've had every bit of you."

Your eyes met his, soft and misty with anticipation as the unspoken answer hung in the charged space between you.

"I don't want you to stop," you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. "I want everything you've got-"

With a feral growl, his hands made quick work of the remaining barriers between you. Childe's fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your trousers and panties down in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you, splayed out beneath him, completely bare. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

He settled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against your most sensitive parts making you gasp. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most.

"Please," you whimpered, arching your hips in search of more friction. "Ajax, I need-"

“Shh,” he whispered, brushing a finger softly over your lips. "Just relax… let me take care of you." His voice was just a lulling hum, low and comforting.

He lowered his head and traced a slow, tantalising path up your inner thigh with his tongue, each inch a deliberate tease. A shiver coursed through you, your fingers clutching the sheets as he inched closer to your core, building anticipation with every lingering touch.

When his tongue finally ran along your slit, you cried out, your back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirled around your clit, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on feral. Two fingers pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way.

"That's it, let me hear you," Childe growled against your skin, his words sending vibrations straight to your core. "Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."

He worked you relentlessly, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit. It wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge, thighs trembling around him as your fingers tangled desperately in his hair.

His mouth moved over you with a hungry intensity, each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue sending sparks racing through you, making your hips roll instinctively to meet his every movement.

Your arousal slicked his lips and chin as he held you close, his fingers working in tandem, pressing into you and curling just right to reach that deep, electric spot that made you lose all sense of restraint. The pleasure built steadily, his every touch pushing you closer to the point of no return, your entire body drawn taut in anticipation.

The obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy, the squelch of his fingers inside you, the filthy slurps and moans he made as he ate you out - it was almost too much to bear.

He groaned against your folds, the vibrations making you buck and writhe beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pinning you in place as he kept up his relentless assault on your clit.

Your thighs were shaking violently as your muscles tensed and coiled tight with your approaching orgasm. Childe sensed it too, doubling his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he finger-fucked you harder, faster.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against your soaked folds. "Let me feel you come undone on my tongue. Fucking soak me, baby.”

With a hoarse cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as wave upon wave of searing pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, your arousal slick on his chin, dripping down onto the sheets beneath him.

Childe groaned low in his throat, lapping at your release as if it were the finest ambrosia, wringing the last drop of pleasure from your body until you lay still beneath him.

He slowly pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He licked his lips, savouring your taste with a satisfied hum. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”

He crawled up your body, settling between your thighs once more. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance, making you clench with anticipation.

"I need to be inside you," Childe growled, his voice strained with need. "Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing my cock."

He reached down, gripping himself and rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. You whimpered, your hips canting up, trying to force him inside.

"Please," you begged, your voice wrecked and desperate. "Ajax, I need you. Need you so fucking bad."

With a low groan, he pushed forward, sinking into your wet heat inch by inch. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Childe panted, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts as he let you adjust to him. "Feels so good, baby. So fucking good."

Once you'd both adjusted, he started to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that made the bed creak and your body jolt with each powerful thrust.

Childe's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper inside you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch of my cock."

You could do no more than moan incoherently, hands scrabbling at the sheets. The feeling of him so deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, was almost too much to bear.

"You like that, don't you?" Childe panted, strained with exertion.

"Like having me so fucking deep inside you." He punctuated each filthy word with a sharp snap of his hips, driving into you so hard that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around him like a vice.

"Shit, baby," Childe growled, his rhythm faltering as he fought to hold back his own release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna- gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."

But you were too far gone to care, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure consuming you. All you could do was hold on for dear life as Childe fucked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting your deepest spots with every thrust, pushing you higher and higher until you were sure you'd black out from the intensity of it all.

Childe's thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your ankles as he chased his own release.

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he found his peak. You felt the hot rush of his cum painting your walls, claiming you from the inside out.

A low, shuddering groan escaped him as the intensity of his release rippled through his body. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved, basking in the dying warmth and soft haze of satisfaction.

The weight of Childe pressed against you as he lowered your legs back down. His warm breath on your shoulder as he stayed inside of you. He slowly lifted his head, eyes locked with yours. For that one moment, there was something soft in his eyes—something almost tender—the softness he mostly protected.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered, his voice low and warm.

A smile played at your lips as you looked up at him, quiet happiness filling your eyes. "Not too bad yourself," you teased, reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek, your thumb tracing a light path along his jawline. "For a reckless, ego-driven, pain in the ass."

Childe laughed, leaning into your touch with a shameless grin. "I think you meant to say charming, irresistible, and exceptionally skilled in bed," he corrected, a roguish glint firing in his eyes.

"Yeah, maybe that too," you whispered, pulling him into a soft, dragged-out kiss, basking in the wordless connection that ran between you.

જ⁀ seeing you do domestic things - 2.4k

Ayato leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes focused on you as you worked. The soft light of the afternoon filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene in front of him. You were humming quietly to yourself as you stirred the pot on the hob, moving with a quiet grace that Ayato could only admire.

It wasn’t just the domesticity of the moment that caught his attention—it was the way you made it look so effortless, the way you fit so naturally into his life, his home. You were already making the space feel like it was your joint space, your presence breathing life into the place, and Ayato found himself growing more and more captivated by the thought of this becoming a permanent reality.

You glanced up, catching him watching you, and a teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to help?"

Ayato stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’d rather just watch you, honestly,” he said smoothly, his voice thick with desire. “It’s hard to look away when you make something as simple as cooking look so… irresistible.”

You laughed lightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, the intensity of his gaze deepening with each passing second. You continued with your work, though something about the way he was looking at you made your pulse quicken.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity in your voice.

He moved closer, placing his hands casually on the counter beside you, his body barely separate from yours. “You,” he said bluntly, his voice dropping lower. “Watching you cook, has me thinking about our future together… it’s making it impossible to focus.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “A future together?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the implication. “Like what?”

Ayato’s lips curled into a confident, knowing smile. “Like this. You, in our home, doing all these wifely things, making our space feel warm and lived-in…” His voice was laced with a quiet heat as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can already see it—us—with kids running around, your laugh filling the halls, hearing the sound of little feet chasing each other.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, and you froze for a moment, feeling his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm that matched the rapid pace of your own.

Ayato didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips captured yours in a kiss—slow at first, but quickly turning deeper as his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer. His desire was palpable, every movement of his hands speaking louder than his words ever could.

When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his hands still on you as he looked down at you with a knowing smile. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Seeing you like this, talking about our future… I want it, more than anything. And I want you... right here, right now.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I can’t stop thinking about it—thinking about you.”

You shivered at his words, your chest tightening with anticipation. His boldness, his forwardness—it wasn’t something you were used to seeing from Ayato, and yet in this moment, it made your heart race. You felt the weight of his desire, the rawness of it, and it ignited something in you as well.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding along the curves of your body with a sense of urgency. “You’re going to drive me mad if you keep looking at me like that,” he growled. “I can already picture it, I want it all.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and without thinking, you pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely, giving into the heat between you. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you up against him as his desire burned hotter.

And as he kissed you with an intensity you hadn’t expected, you realised that this wasn’t just about the moment. It was about the future you were both already imagining together—the family, the home, the life—and Ayato was determined to make that future as real as possible.

The thought of a life together, full of passion, warmth, and the sound of children’s laughter echoing through your shared home, consumed him completely. And as he held you close, he knew he would stop at nothing to make that future a reality.

Ayato's hands slide down your sides, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touches. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. "I want you so badly," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he starts to tug it upward, his fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You shiver at his touch, arching into him as he leans down to trail kisses along your collarbone.

"I can't wait to see you round with my child," he breathes against your skin, his hand splaying across your belly. "To know that I put them there."

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and with a swift movement, he lifts you onto it, stepping between your parted thighs.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his hands already working to remove your clothes.

The intensity of Ayato's desire is palpable as he stands between your parted thighs, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as he slowly strips away your clothing, revealing more and more of you to his appreciative eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "So perfect."

His fingers trace the curve of your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, craving more of his touch. He obliges, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His other hand slides down your stomach.

Ayato's hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp at the contact, your hips lifting instinctively seeking more of his touch. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"So eager," he teases, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against your slick folds.

He circles your clit with a feather-light touch, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. Your head falls back against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself to the sensation of his skilled fingers.

"Please," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand, seeking more friction.

Ayato obliges, sliding a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out of your pussy. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "Let me make you feel good."

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. You cry out, your grip on his hair tightening as pleasure courses through your veins.

"You're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in the way his hips grind against yours. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Your body trembles on the edge of release, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Ayato's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"That's it, beautiful," Ayato muses, "Look so pretty like this-"

His words, combined with the skillful movements of his fingers, are enough to send you over the edge. Your body tenses, your back arching off the counter as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, your inner walls clenching around Ayato's fingers as you ride out the intense sensations.

Ayato doesn't stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. As you start to come down from your high, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," he murmurs, licking your essence from his fingers. "I could do that forever if you let me."

Before you can catch your breath, he's removing his own clothes, not taking long to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.

"Need to be inside you-" he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

He steps between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

Ayato slowly pushes into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. You moan at the sensation of being filled, your walls clenching around him. He groans at the tight heat enveloping him, his hips pressing forward until he's fully seated inside you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."

He starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the embers of your desire once more.

Ayato's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to bring you maximum pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing every curve and dip as he loses himself in the feel of you.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

His words, coupled with the tender way he makes love to you, bring tears to your eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him.

"Show me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. "Show me how much you love me."

Ayato's response is to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he continues to move within you. The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you're sharing.

"I'll always love you," he vows against your lips. "Always."

As he speaks, his thrusts become more urgent, more passionate. You can feel the coil of pleasure building once more in your core, your body responding to his every move.

Ayato's thrusts become more urgent, more passionate, as he loses himself in the feel of you. But even as he chases his own pleasure, his mind is filled with thoughts of the future, of the life you'll build together.

"I want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want us, together, forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to come home to you every night."

His hand slides down to your stomach, pressing gently against the soft skin. "I want to see you round with my child, to watch you grow and change as our family grows."

The thought sends a shiver of excitement through you, and you cling to him tighter, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. “I want that too-”

Ayato's response is a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he pounds into you, chasing his release.

Ayato's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he chases his climax. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

"I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."

His words send a thrill through you, and you clench around him, urging him on. "Yes," you gasp, "Please-"

With a final, powerful thrust, Ayato buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release triggers your own orgasm.

As Ayato empties himself inside you, your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for every last drop. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your juices gush around his length, coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, yes," Ayato groans, his hips twitching as he feels your release, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of pleasure. "Take it all, baby. Take all of me."

He continues to thrust shallowly, drawing out your climax, his own cock pulsing with aftershocks. Your inner walls ripple around him, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the intense sensations.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. "So perfect, like you were made for me, weren't you?"

As the last waves of pleasure subside, Ayato leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you as his own. You moan into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you've just shared. Ayato's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, your skin still slick with sweat.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you too," you whisper back. "Always and forever."

જ⁀ when you take care of him - 1.9k

Wriothesley leaned back against the pillows, a picture of reluctant vulnerability—a rare sight, his usual sharp confidence dulled by the grip of a stubborn cold. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince you he didn’t need anyone fussing over him, but his protests had crumbled under your firm insistence. So now, he was stuck with you at his bedside, his gruff pride no match for your stubborn resolve.

You place a tray alongside him, holding soup, and a few other remedies. "Alright, let's get you sorted," you said, scooping up a spoonful of broth and extending it toward him.

He looked back at you, his brow furrowed with stubborn defiance, but you only hitched an eyebrow in silence.

He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and grumbled under his breath before he leaned forward and took the spoonful, holding it longer in his mouth than was really necessary, his eyes latched onto yours. His cheeks already flushed with fever, coloured a fraction darker, but he acted like he didn't notice.

"See? That wasn't so bad," you teased your voice soft as you reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat, looking away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. Something about the way you touched him-so gentle, so deliberate-had him feeling unstably off-balance.

His pulse raced, a heat coiling low in his stomach, that left an evident reaction under the blankets that he desperately tried to will away. Mortified by his reaction, he reached for a cushion and shifted it onto his lap, with forced nonchalance.

"You don't need to babysit me," he grumbled, his voice hoarse, and he refused to meet your gaze. "I'll be alright. You've got much more important things to attend to."

“Oh, nice try,” you replied with a wry smile, holding another spoonful toward him. “You’re stuck with me until I’m satisfied that you’re actually resting. So stop pretending you’re not secretly grateful.”

His lips parted, but whatever retort he’d planned died on his tongue as he met your gaze. There was no teasing in your eyes now, only a quiet tenderness that made his chest tighten. You cared-truly-and it was overwhelming in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Why are you doing all this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, giving away a flicker of something unguarded.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the skin that flushed there. "Because you deserve it," you said, so simply. "Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."

He inhaled sharply, his hold on the cushion tightening as the touch of your hand warmed through him and sent a jolt of something far from comforting through him. His mind was racing as the tension betrayed his attempts to keep composed. The hell is wrong with him? He thought. This isn't supposed to feel like… this.

But you noticed. The way his jaw tensed, the subtle shift under the blankets—it was impossible to miss. A mischievous spark lit up in your eyes, and you leaned in just a fraction closer.

“Wrio,” you murmured, your tone laced with playful curiosity. “Are you… turned on right now?”

His head whipped toward you, his wide eyes betraying his panic. “What—no! I mean… maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.

You bit back a grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Aww,” you cooed, your voice teasing. “The big, tough Warden, all flustered over a little care? How adorable.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face burning crimson as he glared at you—though the heat in his gaze betrayed something far less menacing. "It's not like that."

"Oh, really?" you said, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Then what is it like, Wriothesley?"

He swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before dropping again. "It's... it's nothing," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Just a stupid physical reaction, that's all."

"Mmm, I see," you hummed, reaching out to trace a finger down his jawline. "And by that, what you're trying to tell me is that right now it's not crossing your mind how nice it would feel to be taken care of by someone else? Make you feel better?"

He let out a shaking breath as his eyes darkened to meet yours. "I- I don't." he stammered, words trailing off as he fought for a coherent thought.

"It's alright," you whispered, a small smile on your lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Wriothesley. You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good."

His breath hitched, and his chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as he stared at you, pupils dilated with arousal. "Yes," he breathed, his voice rough from need. "God, yes, I do."

Your heart was racing, your own desire a mirror of his while you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured.

He emitted a low groan; his body quivered in anticipation. "Please," he whispered, voice raw with need. "Please, I need you."

You reached underneath the duvet, your fingers tracing over his hot skin, tracing the lines of his toned stomach. He shivered beneath your touch, breathing in short, ragged gasps as you explored his body.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips bucking up against your hand. "That feels so good."

You smirked, your fingers dipping lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers. "Is that so?" you purred, your eyes glinting with mischief.

As you freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers you couldn't help but marvel at the sight. His cock, thick and hard, proudly standing to attention. A drop of precum glistened from the tip of his cock, his need evident.

You swirled your thumb around the head, smearing the slick fluid and drawing a shudder from Wriothesley. "Mmm, look at you," you purred, low and husky.

He let out a choked noise, eyes fluttering shut as he fisted his hands in the sheets.

"Please," he pleaded, voice raw with need. "Please, touch me."

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. His cock twitched in your hand, another drop of precum beading at the slit. He bucked against your hand, his hips rocking in time with your movements.

"That's it," you murmured, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

He nodded, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to your touch. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as you worked him over.

You smirked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. He shuddered beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair as you licked a slow stripe up his length.

"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.

With that, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down. He let out a strangled cry, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him deeper, your nose nestling into the hair at the base of his cock. He was throbbing in your mouth, his precum coating your tongue as you worked him over.

"Fuck-" he gasped, voice ragged with pleasure. "Your mouth feels amazing."

You hummed around his shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

As you continued to suck and lick at Wriothesley's throbbing cock, your free hand drifted lower, cupping his heavy balls. You rolled them gently in your palm, feeling their weight, savouring the way they twitched at your touch.

Wriothesley let out a low groan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

You hummed in return, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Your fingers massaged his balls, delicate flesh kneaded as you worked him over.

He was leaking steadily now, his precum coating your tongue as you sucked him deeper. The taste of him filled your senses: musky, masculine. It was intoxicating - your own arousal growing with each passing second.

"God-" he panted, his hands fisting in your hair. "I'm getting close."

You redoubled your efforts, your head bobbing faster as you took him to the back of your throat. Your fingers squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up even tighter as his climax approached.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum filling your throat as he cried out in ecstasy.

You swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling beneath you. Finally, you released him from your mouth, licking your lips as you pulled back.

As Wriothesley came down from his high, you couldn't help but tease him just a little bit more.

You lightly ran your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up the last of his release. He shuddered beneath you, his over-sensitive flesh twitching at every light touch.

"Ah!" he gasped, jerking his hips without meaning to. "Too much, I can't—"

You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you continued your sweet torment. Your tongue swirled around the tip and he whimpered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tried to push you away, but you held firm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his spent body.

"I could do this all day." you purred, breath hot against his skin.

He let out a strangled laugh, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're a fucking tease," he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.

You smiled, giving the head of his cock one final kiss before releasing him from your mouth. Sitting back, you licked your lips as you took in the view he presented-flush-cheeked, panting, eyes glossed over with satisfaction.

"Someone's gotta take care of you," you murmured, your voice husky. "And I'm more than willing to volunteer for the job."

You leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Wriothesley's lips. He sighed into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer. It was a tender moment, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had come before.

You drew back, staring into his eyes, the warmth and affection glowing within. "How are you feeling?" you asked, softly. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and he smiled. His hand came up to overlay yours. "Better," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Much better, thanks to you."

You leaned in, nuzzling his nose with yours. "I aim to please," you teased, your eyes sparkling merrily.

He chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're hopeless" he mumbled, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.

જ⁀ seeing you wearing his clothes - 2.6k

Neuvillette opened the door, exhaling softly as he stepped into the quiet of his home. After a day full of formalities, courtroom battles, and endless patience, the relief of finally being in his own space was palpable.

He set his coat aside, running a hand through his hair to loosen the constraints of his usually perfect appearance. But as he looked up, whatever was left of his exhaustion was washed clean by the sight of you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts.

You looked up and smiled softly, but the sight of you in his clothes, settled comfortably into his personal space, had him frozen in place. The shirt fell just a little too loose on your frame, sleeves slipping past your wrists, and the hem brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough to spark his desire. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, mingling with your own warmth, making something in him stir deeply.

A glint of intensity appeared in his eyes as he took a slow step forward, watching as your expression shifted, noticing the effect you’d unknowingly had on him. His gaze grew darker, the usual restraint crumbling as he drank in the sight of you in his clothes—his shirt, on you.

“You… have no idea what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice deepening with a possessive edge as he came to stand over you. His eyes roamed slowly from the collar falling off one shoulder to your bare legs curled beneath you.

Before you could respond, he was leaning down, caging you in his arms, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he hovered close, his breath warm against your ear. “It suits you, you know,” he whispered, his voice a blend of softness and possessive heat. “But you know what else? I think I’d rather be peeling it off you.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you closer as his lips grazed your neck in a mix of reverence and need. The weariness of his day forgotten, overcome by that fire that urged him to make sure you knew just how much you belonged to him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his voice raw as he pressed you against him. "I need this-

His fingers traced your waist, savouring the feel of soft fabric clinging to your form, but even more so, the sensation of you underneath. You could feel his heartbeat against you, the strong, steady rhythm betraying his calm exterior as his lips found a place on your shoulder- your neck, lingering as if to imprint this moment to memory.

Your hands lightly rested against his chest as he pressed closer, his eyes going dark, unguarded in the display of how far his longing had overcome him. "Every time I come home, I find myself hoping to see you like this," he murmured, voice low and husky. "So close… so undeniably mine.

His eyes, with fierce tenderness, burned as his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, angling your face up to meet his. For a moment longer, his eyes held yours before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and fiercely tender.

Neuvillette's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a fervour that bordered on desperation. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted him access, he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.

"You taste like home," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Like everything I've ever wanted."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing the curves he knew so well.

His hands slid up your sides, tracing the hem of the shirt as it brushed against your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this, so perfectly mine."

He leaned in, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply. "I want to make love to you, right here, with you wearing nothing but my shirt."

His hands slipped under the fabric, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched.

Neuvillette's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he claimed your mouth in another searing kiss. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss.

He carried you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. When he reached the bed, he laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

"You drive me wild," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Seeing you in my shirt, wearing my scent... it's almost too much to bear."

His hands slid under the shirt, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point, making you gasp.

"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your breasts. He dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until it hardened under his touch. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your folds, teasing you slowly.

Neuvillette's lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. His hand continued to stroke you, his fingers teasing your folds, dipping inside you slowly.

He could feel your breath hitching, your body arching into his touch. He released your nipple with a soft pop, blowing cool air over the wet skin, making you shiver.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So responsive, so beautiful."

His hand slid up your body, pushing the shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. He kissed a trail up your sternum, his lips brushing the underside of your chin before capturing your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss.

His fingers continued their teasing dance between your legs, stroking and circling, building the tension within you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body begging for more.

"Tell me how I can please you." he whispered against your lips.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his hand still teasing your folds. "Anything, mon amour," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I would do anything to please you, to make you feel good."

His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He captured your earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. "I want to worship every inch of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

His fingers continued their skilled ministrations, stroking and teasing, building the tension within you. He could feel your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.

"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go, let yourself feel everything. I've got you.”

Neuvillette's fingers glided expertly through your slick folds, teasing and stroking, building the tension within you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild with desire.

His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside you, curling upwards to stroke that spot deep within that made your toes curl.

He set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out, in and out, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body responding to his touch.

He angled his fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. His thumb increased its pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," he growled, his own desire evident in his voice.

"Wanna make you feel good too-"

He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so that your pussy was hovering right above his mouth and you were met with his crotch.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed up at you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Then take what you need, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your core.

He pulled you down, his tongue delving between your folds, licking and sucking, tasting your essence. His hands gripped your ass, holding you in place.

You reached down, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock sprang free, the tip already glistening with precum.

Neuvillette's breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. "Please-" he groaned, his hips bucking up into your touch.

You lowered your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the tip of his cock. Neuvillette groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

You wrapped your lips around his thick shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, sucking and licking, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

Neuvillette's hips rocked up to meet your movements, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, just like that," he groaned.

Neuvillette moaned into your folds as he lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh.

He could feel your juices coating his tongue, your scent filling his senses, driving him wild with desire. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside you.

His nose brushed against your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue curling to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. He could feel you trembling above him, your moans filling the room.

"Come for me, mon amour," he growled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "Let go, let me feel you."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers pumping in and out of you, faster and harder.

He could feel your thighs trembling against his face, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew you were close, could feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your folds.

Neuvillette felt your body tense above him, your walls clamping down around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you. He lapped at your clit, prolonging your pleasure, his fingers gentling their movements as you rode out the waves of your climax.

He continued to lap at your folds, cleaning up your cum, his tongue swirling and flicking, bringing you down from your high.

But Neuvillette remained strong, not letting himself get close, wanting to finish inside you.

As you came down from your high, Neuvillette slowly released your thighs, his hands caressing your skin as he pulled back. His cock throbbed, aching for release, but he ignored it, his focus solely on your pleasure.

He sat up, turning you around and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavour mingling with his own unique taste.

"I need to be inside you," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel you, all of you."

He laid you back on the bed, his body covering yours, his cock nestling against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, seeking permission, seeking connection.

You nod.

With a slow, steady push, he sank into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length.

"Ah, sweetheart-" he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "You feel incredible, so tight, so perfect."

He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, deeper and harder with each movement.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I love you so so much-"

His pace increased, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving marks of his passion, his possession.

Neuvillette's teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you as his, as he thrust into you with wild abandon. His hips slammed against yours, his cock driving deep inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

"Mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine, now and forever."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body responding to his every move.

He angled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you scream his name. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come with me, angel" he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."

Neuvillette could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against yours, his fingers rubbing your clit harder, faster.

His teeth sank into your shoulder again, his mark claiming you, possessing you, as his thrusts became erratic, his movements losing their rhythm.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, ropes of cum flooding you, your name a prayer on his lips.

As Neuvillette's orgasm crashed over him, you could feel your own release building, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock. Your body trembled beneath him, your moans filling the room as you rode out the waves of your climax.

Your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him close as you came undone. Your inner walls rippled around his length, milking him, drawing out every last drop of his seed.

"Neuvillette!" you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.

Neuvillette held you close, his arms wrapping around you, his body shaking with the force of his own release. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name over and over again.

Neuvillette held you close as you both came down from your highs, your bodies entwined, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, his lips trailing over your skin like a whisper.

"I love you, angel," he murmured, his voice low and tender. "I love you more than anything in this world."

He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"You are my everything," he whispered, his arms tightening around you. "My heart, my soul, my reason for being."

He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

"Rest now, mon amour," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

જ⁀ watching you fight - 2.6k

The air heavy with the scent of battle and the sharp crackle of elemental energy. Wanderer’s movements were graceful and precise as always, his slender figure darting between foes with deadly elegance. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the fight.

No, his attention was locked on you.

You fought with a raw intensity, every strike you made sharp and calculated, every movement full of purpose. The way you moved, the way you commanded the space around you, was captivating. With every swing of your weapon, you demonstrated your strength and your resilience, your utter refusal to back down. The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Wanderer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you.

Each time you dodged an attack, countered an enemy, or dispatched another foe with ease, his chest tightened with something he wasn’t quite used to—something primal.

He had always admired your strength, but this—this—was something different. The sight of your passion, your raw determination, made him ache with desire.

You caught his eye in the midst of a battle, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. He saw the way your lips curled in a confident, almost defiant smile as you took down an enemy, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. His body tensed, a heat flooding his chest as he watched you finish the last enemy off with a powerful blow.

The battle ended in a flash of elemental power, and then there was silence. The only sound was your heavy breathing, while the air still hung heavy with the remnants of a fight. Wanderer didn't tear his eyes from you as he stared at the mess your hair was in, at the droplets of sweat glinting upon your skin. You were standing tall, victorious, and you radiated an undeniable strength that stirred something in him—a hunger he couldn’t push away.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, turning to face him with a breathless smile. “Not bad, huh?” you said, your voice teasing, but there was an edge of satisfaction in it.

Wanderer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes raked over you with an intensity that was impossible to miss. There was something about the way you fought, the way you carried yourself that made it impossible for him to ignore how turned on he was. He couldn’t shake the image of you fighting by his side, every graceful movement making his pulse race.

His eyes gleamed with something darker now, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, low, like he was tasting the words before they left his mouth.

“You have no idea,” he said, his gaze moving over you slowly, like a predator studying its prey. He let the words hang between you, heavy with intent. “The way you fight... the way you move, like nothing else matters but the battle... it’s...” He let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice. “It’s intoxicating.”

His gaze drifted to the blood on your clothes, the way your chest heaved with each breath, the way your muscles flexed beneath the sweat and the grime of the fight. The blood—yours or theirs, it didn’t matter—only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest, igniting something that had been simmering beneath the surface.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you with purpose. “You look... different,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a low growl in the back of his throat. “Tired, yes. But also more... alive.” His eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze, the unspoken words between you as thick as the sweat on your skin. “I can see it in your eyes—the rush, the satisfaction from victory.”

You could feel his presence closing in, his body just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his every movement sharp and deliberate. There was no longer any space between you two, the battlefield forgotten, the dead enemies fading into the background as he loomed over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He was studying you now, watching the way your body reacted to his proximity, the slight catch in your breath as you stood tall, still proud in your exhaustion. Wanderer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with a hunger that made your heart race. “For me to look at you like this? Wanting you, seeing you in a way that’s... less respectful and more... desperate.”

A shudder ran through you at the sound of his voice, at the words that lingered in the air between you two. You wanted to push him away, but your body—your senses—were screaming for more. This was different. This was dangerous, thrilling, and you couldn’t deny the pull.

He reached out, his fingers grazing along your jawline, tracing the curve of your cheek. The touch was light, almost feather-soft, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

“But I think we both know that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was a purr, a low, seductive sound that made your heart race. “To be seen, to be desired, to be... wanted.”

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. “Well I want you-”

His hand slid down your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently. “So tell me, are you ready to give in? To let me have my way with you, right here, right now, where anyone could see?”

His other hand trailed down your side, his touch possessive, claiming. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his desire palpable in the air between you.

You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hardness of his muscles, the way he seemed to radiate power and hunger. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding to his touch even as your mind screamed at you to resist.

But you couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you his in every way possible.

So you surrendered, your lips parting in a silent invitation, your body arching into his touch. And as his lips crashed against yours, you knew that there was no going back and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made him gasp. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word muffled against your mouth. "So eager, aren't you?"

His hands tightened in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

"That how you wanna’ play it, huh?" he murmured, his voice husky, laced with promise. He nipped at your lip in retaliation, a quick, sharp bite that sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing down your spine.

His hands roamed your body, mapping out your curves. He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, teasing, taunting.

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for the waistband of your pants. His fingers hooked into the fabric, and with a swift, practised motion, he tugged them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

You stepped out of them, now clad in just your shirt and underwear. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Scaramouche's gaze as it raked over your body.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I could just eat you up."

His hands slid up your legs, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, teasingly.

As he revealed you to him, inch by tantalising inch, his breath hitched. "God, look at you," he murmured, his voice reverent, awed. "So fucking perfect."

His hands mapped out your thighs, your hips, your stomach, worshipping every curve, every dip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, then trailing his lips lower.

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Gonna make you forget everything but the feeling of my mouth on you."

And with that, he sealed his lips over your clit, and the world fell away, leaving only sensation, only pleasure, only him.

His tongue traced the seam of your folds, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing up your spine. He savoured the taste of you, the musky sweetness that was uniquely yours. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he explored every inch of you.

He started with broad strokes, his tongue lapping at your folds, coating them with his saliva. Then, with agonising slowness, he zeroed in on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tormenting.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled against your flesh. "I could spend hours just worshipping this pretty little pussy."

He punctuated his words with a long, slow lick, from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop of your essence. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp and arch your hips.

His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Let me hear you. Let the whole world know how good I make you feel."

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your abs clenched, and you could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Come for me, doll" he purred.

And with a final, hard suck on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, your juices flooding his mouth as he lapped them up greedily, prolonging your pleasure.

He didn't stop until he was sure you were spent, until the last aftershocks had faded away. Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening with your essence, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

He grabbed your hips, spinning you around with surprising strength. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his body flush against your back.

His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, kneading it roughly. The other slid between your legs, fingers delving into your still-slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit.

He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly, torturously. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around it, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazed your flesh, not quite breaking the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you.

His free hand moved to his pants, undoing them with practised ease. The sound of a zipper being pulled down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the forest. Then, he was tugging his cock free, the hard length pressing against your ass.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grinding against you. "So fucking perfect."

He lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Last chance to back out, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

He waited, his body tense, poised on the edge of control. He wanted you, needed you, but he would wait. He would give you one last chance to refuse him, to deny him what he craved most.

But deep down, he knew you wouldn't. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need, the hunger. You wanted this just as much as he did, and he could feel it in the way your body trembled against his, the way your hips canted back, silently begging for more.

"Please what, baby?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Please fuck you?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.

"Or please stop?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Please don't give you what you so desperately need?"

The tip slowly pushed through your folds, but no more. He was so big, so hard, you knew he'd completely stretch you open.

“Stop being an idiot and fuck me-” you muttered.

With a low chuckle, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the forest, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps.

He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let the whole damn world know who’s fucking you-"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing his cock.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Gonna make you mine."

His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed tight, firm circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come with me, baby," he demanded, his voice a dark, commanding growl.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his cum, sending you over the edge with him.

You came with a scream, your body convulsing and shaking in his arms. He held you close, his hips still rocking, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice ragged and raw. "That's my good girl."

He peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. "You did so well, baby.”

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body wrapped around his. Finally, with a soft groan, he pulled out, his now softening cock slipping from your pussy.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And then maybe round two when we're inside, hmm?"

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

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rockingbytheseaside · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw)

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you.

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always.

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion.

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice.

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger?

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.”

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation.

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you.

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held.

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all.

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation:

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you.

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.

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unluckilyimnot · 3 months ago

Text

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after.

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it.

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you.

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something.

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously.

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day.

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here – especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed.

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush.

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly.

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again.

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you.

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it – he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

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rene-darling · 1 month ago

Text

I'M- gonna get you pregnant!

...Their reaction to your...interesting choice of words. You try and get a reaction out of them!

...It's been a while guys! I came back to spread my pregnant men agenda...kinich is so Xiao vibes frl...ajaw is my favorite charc genshin has ever made...credits [keming magico] on X/twt

...kinich...Xiao...zhongli...wanderer...kazuha...

Kinich

"..."

"well, it'll cost you a fortune." Unfazed as always he manages to surprise you instead.

"eh..??"

"let's see, a million mora for the unexpected surprise, a few more for the agonizing months and definitely another million mora as a push present-"

"BLEH- BUT! the great kahul ajaw will also require compensation!!"

Xiao

"???" He stares at you, with his wide cat eyes, then his brows furrow in a huff "mortals...have no respect for the adepti." He mumbles his all too familiar phrase

"it is only rex lapis that is able to change his form from male to female..not I"

"aw- but Xiao wouldn't you look just the cutest making a cute nest for our baby?"

He gives you a nasty glare but his ears blush a crimson red at the thought, perhaps... he liked the notion...of the baby not him pregnant. Don't twist his desires!!

Zhongli

It is not often that he is caught off guard, this is not often.

His initial shock is then replaced with a flurry of laughter, music to many especially your ears.

"that is impossible, in-..this form atleast." It's your turn to be shocked now "..eh?"

"hm...I suppose, now that I am but a mortal, the next step would be to settle with a child-..I never thought off carrying myself but- y/n" catching you as you fell

"it was a joke. I'm not- ready- for- for thAT. Nor that mental image- hah-."

Wanderer

"what the fk."

He gives you the nastiest of glares, what are you on about this time??

"I'm a puppet you fool."

"keep your perverted fantasies to yourself."

"But- I wanna see you- full. Of my perverted fantasies."

It's debatable whether he's red from your crude words or something else- but truly you are talented, at a loss for words he huffs his little chest and storms out not in the mood to entertain your perversion.

Kazuha

"hm..?" He gives you the sweetest look of confusion strands of his hair falling over his eyes as he tilted his face.

He lets out a small chuckle and puts down his leaf "If- I could, I would have done so without question or any doubts" he smiles so sweetly at you making you feel ashamed about how you said this in a perverted way yet he responded with so much love.

You pouted at the unfairness of this. How come you're the one blushing!!!

"now I wanna be pregnant with yours-."

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whoistartaglia · 1 year ago

Text

at every table, i’ll save you a seat

and other small gestures genshin men make to show that they love you

this fic’s spiritual successor (“part two”)

wanderer covers the edge of the table whenever you bend down to pick up something. he claims it’s because you’re so unbelievably clumsy that you’re likely to hit your head on the way up. all mortals are so fragile, it’s the least he can do for you to protect “what’s left inside that thick skull of yours.”

diluc flips over your pillow if you get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water during the night. you’ll return to a nice cool pillow and practically fall asleep once your head hits it. if you should ever question how diluc always wakes when you do, he doesn’t. he’ll turn over the pillow in his sleep, your comfort overiding his subconscious.

kaveh reminds you if you have everything you need before going out. there’s nothing more he hates more than forgetting something at home and certainly doesn’t want you to experience that. if you find you are missing something, he’ll run and grab it for you. you don’t know who’s more relieved: you or him.

childe makes you snacks when you’re working. he grew up with siblings, he knows how to help you when you’re feeling stressed or just need an energy boost. his creations can range from ridiculously childish snacks like ants on a log or culinary masterpieces. whatever he feels you need at the time.

zhongli buys you random gifts. they can range from some candies he thinks you’ll enjoy to hair pieces crafted with the finest of jewels. most of the he’ll give them to you directly, but other times he leaves them out for you to find them: next to the bed, on your desk, in your bag. they tend to increase around the holidays, your birthday, or whenever zhongli simply feels like spoiling you.

xiao always opens the door for you. you can’t remember the last time you opened a door when you were with him. he doesn’t necessarily insist on doing it either; he just does. it’s become involuntary for xiao at this point. xiao see door, xiao open door for you.

kaeya always saves you a seat, at every table, at every meal. whether it’s he arrived at the tavern earlier than you or he’s sitting on a bench and thinks you may pass him on your way home, the seat right next to him is always yours. he wouldn’t have anyone else sitting there but you.

alhaitham reads to you when you can’t sleep. you don’t even need to ask him, either. ten minutes of you twisting and turning and he’s got the light back on, book open in his hands. sometimes, it will be his own research, which can put you to sleep instantly, but othertimes its chapters from a novel you both adore. this can have the opposite effect, with him reading until the sun rises and you haven’t got a wink of sleep.

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azullumi · 2 years ago

Text

“his habits during it” ; genshin men

warning — nsfw content ahead but nothing that graphic or explicit (seriously i tried my best to not even mention the word sex and the genitals)

summary — there’s one thing he loves to do whenever the two of you get in bed together.

characters — diluc, kazuha, ayato, kaveh, alhaitham, tighnari, cyno, zhongli, and wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader) ; no specified anatomy nor even mentioned parts

tags — kind of fluff, nsfw, not proof-read (wrote this while i was irritated and needed something to pour my attention to) ; headcanons

words — 1265

note — hey siri, how do you say they’re fucking without saying they’re fucking

handholding

DILUC — (i have already said this before) diluc likes, no, he loves the intimacy the simple act of holding one’s hand has even when two of you are just walking together side by side or when his skin is pressed against yours, lips colliding against one another, and he’s whispering words of affection to your ears—a mere distraction and a sense of comfort, grounding you and keeping you with him. it’s just that effortless gesture of intertwining his hand with yours, locking fingers, as he indulges in the way you feel around him. he squeezes your hand in the middle of it all and oh, how he melts so much when you also squeeze his own in return. he could never tell you how much you make him so soft and weak with just the slightest hold.

eye contact

KAZUHA — “don’t look away now,” he coos at you, seeing how you shy yourself and avert your gaze away from him which he obviously didn’t like. he likes seeing you coming undone while you try to remain eye contact with him—it pleases him seeing your features contort into into what you are currently feeling—, likes teasing you every time you try to look away from him and hide your expression, likes saying such remarks that gets you embarrassed most times just so he could see and watch the change of your expressions every single time. he just loves looking at you, adoring you with his eyes, especially more so when you also do the same and keep contact, gaze nailed on each other.

praises and talking dirty

AYATO — he’s a talker, both outside the matters in the bedroom and inside the sheets, so it’s no wonder that he always shower you with praises in every chance that he gets even if you’re not in the right mind to respond or even comprehend what he’s saying. he conveys most of his affections through the words that falls out of his lips, finding it so easy to say such things and teasing you with it, he can’t help it, can he? how could he not when you look so pretty—not only outside the bedroom—or beautiful, or handsome, or lovely, or anything that he could think of right at that moment when he sees you naked? Even if he had held and seen you with nothing to cover your skin so many times, he still gets mesmerized by the sight of you like it was his first time.

playing with your hair

KAVEH — he plays with it, he tugs on it, pulls on it, and everything. and though it gives him some sense of control especially when he pulls on it, it also grounds him and helps him realize the affection and love being shared between you two in this intimate moment. sometimes he only dances his fingers on your head, treating you softly and tenderly with the delicate hold of his hand on your hair, which could often provide a huge contrast to what he’s actually doing, the rough treatment he’s giving you which makes you roll your eyes and see spots in your vision. “you look so pretty like this, my love,” he would say before tugging your hair back to take a good look at your face or to tilt your head in a way that gives him more access to your neck.

lots of kisses

TIGHNARI — gently laying you down the bed? kisses you while doing so. sliding your clothes off your body? presses his lips against yours before trailing down, tracing your jaw, his mouth making its way down your neck, and resting on your collarbone. asking you consent? he kisses you before he speaks. he presses gentle kisses of adoration all over you as he pushes himself into you, your bodies becoming one in the process, providing comfort and easing you as he could feel your nails digging deep into his skin and possibly, leaving marks and wounds but he didn’t mind. his fondness and desire murmuring into you, helping you breath and regain yourself. it was clear that his way of affection was simply just kissing you.

giving orders

CYNO — he doesn’t always take the dominant position but perhaps it was the sense of authority, the power whenever he does it. he has the habit of giving orders and commands whenever you two are spending a passionate moment and seeing you willing to follow him ignites something in him—however, if you disobey him, then that’s a different matter altogether (it’s not like he hates it however. deep in him, he likes it as it gives him the pass to do more things but with your consent, of course). you’re so vulnerable, so obedient to him and it fuels his excitement further when you follow what he says. it makes him wonder, a question pondering his head, how could he have someone like you, someone as lovely and sweet as you, so good to him?

restriction / holding your hands together

ZHONGLI — no, it is not the act of locking your fingers with his as he pushes himself into you just like diluc, this one is completely different. he has big hands, we all know that zhongli’s hands are big and one of it just enough to bind both of your wrists together—he is well-aware of that fact and abuses it. he likes seeing you struggle, tugging your hand against his but his hold wouldn’t budge, at all. although zhongli hasn't explicitly told or mentioned it, he absolutely loves the way you look so helpless and weak whenever he holds your hands together, whenever he restricts your movement. oftentimes, he would have a silk ribbon—it has to be a silk ribbon—tying you up just so he could rest his hands on your hips and hold you.

hands always touching and roaming around your body

ALHAITHAM — he just loves to feel you, in general. he loves the softness of your skin underneath the tip of his fingers as he glides his hand all across your body, the warmth of you seething into his touch and being buried in his bones, and he is obsessed on the way he could feel the sweet trembles of your body underneath his hand, could sense the small shiver when he finally touches you, and he adores it and he doesn’t hesitate in conveying his affections to you, often accompanying his caresses with his words of praises and compliments. perhaps it overwhelms you, not knowing where to focus yourself on, and he loves seeing you in such a state, pushing you more and more further to the edge with his hands and mouth alone.

biting and leaving marks

WANDERER — the line between pain and pleasure soon blurs into one as he bites into you while, and one could say it serves as a distraction but it isn’t, it’s not even close to being a distraction, it’s simply something that adds to the stimulation that you are feeling, overwhelming and effectively bringing you into some sort of space. he takes joy in the sounds that you make once he buries his neck on the curve of your neck, hard but not hard enough to draw blood; he takes pride in seeing the bruises and marks that he left on you, looking at you like you were a work of art carved and sculpted into something more than perfection with his own hands.

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neuvilyney · 2 months ago

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𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ how/when they first realized that they're in love with you ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ft. Tighnari, Wanderer, and Xiao

★ I can't remember if this was a request or not, but I found this draft from last June and I couldn't let it go to waste, so here's this! :D

★ No content warnings that I can think about. Just fluff and the boys not knowing how to cope with catching feels lmao

𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶 " 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 "

★ Tighnari is extremely in tune with himself: this includes his feelings, his body, and his thoughts. And yet, he finds that around you, everything gets mixed up into one big puddle of goo. Whenever you weren’t watching, his observant eyes were trained on you. He’d analyze you like a foreign species of flora, trying to pick apart what about you made his heart pound in his ears, what made him stutter and blush like a lovesick teenager, what caused the ache in his chest whenever you weren’t nearby. He’s considered the thought of having a crush on you, but each time, he’d simply brush it off as a hormone imbalance or try to rationalize it as a perfectly normal reaction.

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a double take. “Oh.” and then “Oh.” It’s a split second that changes his entire perspective, and it hits him in the most random of times. He could be pressing flowers and then smile at the realization that those were your favorite flowers. Or maybe he’s jotting down notes and finds himself writing a few letters the same way you do. It could even be something as small as looking up at the sky and wondering if you saw the same shape in the clouds that he did.

★ Once he realizes he’s in love with you, everything makes sense. The puddle of goo slowly melts away and everything feels okay again, and the clarity of everything hits him like a truck. He needs to say something. Tighnari is a man of action. He thinks before he speaks, but he speaks before you can think. He’d take a moment to think about what he would say, but then he’s standing right in front of you with rosy cheeks and a determined look on his face. And then finally, he’d say those three special words to you--

- 𖦹 -

“You’re a pain.” Tighnari couldn’t help but sigh as he crossed his arms, looking at you up and down with a tired expression. Yet, a faint smile tugged at his lips as he watched you struggle with a particularly invasive type of vine. You’re tangled in it like a bug in a spiderweb, a defeated look on your face as you hang limply from the vines.

You groan, crossing your arms as you glare at him. The sight of him looking at you so smugly made you want to slap him and possibly kiss him. Maybe not in that order though. “I am no such thing! I’m just-- ugh…” The vines dug into your skin as they held you by your ankle, and you sighed in defeat before reaching out to him. His fluffy ears twitched with delight at the way you frowned so adorably, and he swiftly used an arrow to cut the vine, catching you when you fell. However, he clearly didn't think this through all the way. As he held you, watching your expression shift from relief to shock to a mixture of embarrassment and bashfulness, his own eyes widened and a warm blush spread over his cheeks, his fluffy ears twitching whilst his tanned skin continued to redden.

Oh.

Tighnari was dead silent when he put you down, and he briskly turned around before starting to walk away. “Wait! Don’t just leave me here!” You sighed, starting to swiftly follow him, doing your best to ignore the way your heart pounded. The walk back was painfully awkward, your attempts at conversation followed by dry responses if a response at all. And eventually, you had enough! The way he refused to meet your gaze, how his hands clenched at his sides just to make sure they didn’t touch yours, he was avoiding you like the plague despite being right beside you. And so, you pivoted on your heel until you stood right before him.

“Okay, what’s with you? Ever since the vine thing, you’re acting like I did something wrong! Did…did I do something wrong?” Your confused and hurt expression made his heart ache, and Tighnari couldn’t help but shake his head fervently-- the way his ears bounced with each movement would have been adorable had it not been for the hurt you felt. Tighnari’s cheeks blushed a soft red, his multicolored eyes trained on you in a serious manner. It looked like he was about to scold you, with his serious frown and crossed arms, so you mentally prepared yourself for yet another lecture.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Well, getting tangled in the vines was rather stupid,” You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to say it wasn’t your fault, but he continued regardless. “But, I’m grateful you did. Had it not been for your adorably clumsy nature, I would not have had the chance to catch you in my arms.” As your eyes widened, a small smirk tugged at his lips and he took a step towards you. “And if I hadn’t held you so close, I don’t think I would have realized this just yet.” Tighnari seemed to trail off on this annoying cliffhanger, and you sighed before looking up at him.

“...Realized what?” As if he’d been waiting for you to ask, he leaned close- close enough that his hair tickled your nose and his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered:

“That you have me foolishly, hopelessly smitten.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗿 " 𝗞𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗸𝘂𝘇𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶 "

★ It took him ages to realize he loved you. No seriously, it would take years. Some part of him knew you were special, but he could never figure out why. Was it the way your smile made him anxious? Or perhaps the way your voice made his face heat up with-... with rage? Maybe it was the way every little thing reminded him of you, like an annoying bug that wouldn’t go away. Yet, he found that none of these things were actually…bad. He loved your smile, the way it made his artificial heart race. He adored your voice, the way it made him blush so heavily. And he absolutely loved the way everything reminded him of you, like some part of you was always with him. It took him a while to realize he did actually like you, and not hate you. And then after that, it took even longer to realize he loved you.

★ Realizing he was in love with you felt like a nightmare. It was a panic, a moment of weakness. Him? Love? Please, what a sick joke. Yet…after the panic subsided, he found his heart reaching out to you who he adored so dearly. You would understand, wouldn’t you? Surely you, who had the patience of a mother, would understand his pathetic feelings? Or would you turn him away, and leave him behind yet again? He’d spend days agonizing over the what if’s though he tried not to. He was too prideful to admit someone like you could reduce him to a total mess. The amount of questions circling his brain only served to make him angrier, and he swallowed back his fears for just long enough to shout a very upset sounding “I THINK I LOVE YOU.” Honestly, it almost sounded like he was cursing at you.

★ In summary, Wanderer is an emotional mess. His hundreds of years alive have been dedicated to anything but his feelings. He was destined for something greater than human emotions in his mind. However, when he sees the way your face shifts from shock to a relieved happiness, he realized maybe this was his destiny all along. Maybe loving you, who made him truly feel, was the divine purpose he was meant for all along.

- 𖦹 -

A chill ran down your spine for the fifth time in the past few minutes, and your eyes awkwardly shifted to the ground. He has been staring at you for a creepy amount of time, but it wasn’t his usual glare- and somehow, that only serves to make you more nervous. You gulped thickly, drumming your fingers over your arm before your head snapped to him, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, what is it?” In response, Wanderer simply shrugged. Gods, he could be so infuriating. You could feel your eyebrow twitch as you gritted your teeth, resting a hand on your hip. “I see, so you’ve been staring at me for five minutes just for fun?” Once again, he shrugged. The faintest shade of red dusted the tips of his ears, and his hands limply rested in the pockets of his shorts. You could see the way he turned his head, hiding it behind his intricately-detailed hat. The sight of his blushed ears made your eyes narrow, and you reached out to grab his wrist- causing him to let out a curse. Finally, a reaction!

Wanderer looked down at your hand on his wrist, and then back up at you. And then down to his wrist before he tugged his hand away. Though, he found that he quickly missed the feeling of your soft hand warming his cold skin. The way his hand subconsciously reached out to hold yours once more made him scoff and he shoved his hand back in his pocket, quickly looking away. “What’s the big idea, huh?” His indigo eyes crinkled when he snarled, but a certain glitter swirled within them that made you smile knowingly. Wanderer leaned forward, flicking your forehead when you didn’t respond. He did this a lot, and always smiled at the way you yelped and/or pouted. But this time, his smile wasn’t mocking or amused, but oddly…endearing?

“You’ve only insulted me three times today!! Come on, we both know something’s up.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms- and you didn’t miss the way he mirrored your expression.

He sighed, shaking his head before looking up at you. “You really wanna know? Really?” His arms crossed as his wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his face, but even through the dark, you could see a blush begin to coat his pale cheeks. When you nodded, he sighed again, leaning close to you. “You’re making my head do weird shit and I don’t like it one bit.” Your confused expression made him groan as he tried to explain further. “Come on, don’t play stupid!! I keep having these…gross and cheesy thoughts about you whenever you get close. And the way you smile…it makes me…happy.” He spoke the word with such disgust, it almost made you laugh. “When I see your hand, I want to crush- no, hold it…” The more he spoke, the more those dark eyes softened until they were nothing more than pools of indigo honey. But sadly, he snapped out of it, growling in frustration and grabbing your shoulders. “S--So what’re you doing to me, huh?! What, are you some kind of witch? Do you enjoy making me feel this weird?!”

The more you processed his words, the more you smiled. Slowly, your head tilted to the side and you laughed, shaking your head when his blush only worsened. “Wanderer…do you lik--” He quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing his eyes shut before shouting-

“I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU OR SOMETHING, OKAY?!”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗫𝗶𝗮𝗼 '𝗔𝗹𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀'

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a insult. He figured that his romantic feelings towards you were just…a glitch in the matrix. There was something about you that made his heart do backflips, and he did not like it. And so, he avoided you like the plague. But, distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. With each moment that passed without you beside him, he only felt lonelier. Even despite his eons of solitude, a mere moment without you felt like another thousand years. And so, one lonely night, you call out his name. And there he is, red faced and wide eyed, standing before your teary eyes.

★ He didn’t want to admit he was in love with you. Could he, The Conqueror of Demons, feel something as human as…love? Did he even deserve to? And so, the mere thought of falling in love with you felt almost insulting to him. It was a shock, something that almost angered him. He shouldn’t feel these things! But…if it wasn’t meant to be, then why does he like it? Why does he love the way his face heats up when you smile up at him? Why does he love the way you make him blush and laugh like a fool? Why does he love the way he loves you? Ultimately, he decides these questions are futile. Slowly, his feeling of betrayal and offense morphed into a feeling of fondness. And even slower, he’d finally brush the dust off of the lonely heart he’d safely sealed away behind the armor of his ribs.

★ He didn’t want to tell you at first. He didn’t know how to tell you. Despite that, after the realization of his feelings, he just couldn’t wait! He felt like an impatient child, bouncing on his feet and biting the insides of his cheeks. But, when you rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder at the sight of his pensive face, he knew it would all be okay. As you gave him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen, he understood his feelings for the first time. For Xiao, falling in love with you was a confusing, terrifying process full of heartache and betrayal. But, loving you? God, it was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

- 𖦹 -

You’ve never seen him so anxious before. It was oddly unsettling, to be honest. Watching him shift his gaze every few seconds like a guilty child, the way his fingers fiddled with the material of his pants, even his scowl looked more like a nervous frown. Slowly, you set your pencil down, looking up at him with a concerned gaze from where you watched him pace around the inn. “Xiao, are you oka-”

“YES.”

You deadpanned for a moment, wanting to be amused at his immediate answer that contradicted his expression of pure nerves. Instead, you were only more worried. Slowly, your hands pushed against the table to prop you up and your shoes glided over the wooden floor before you were an arm’s length away from him. Xiao sighed slowly, resting his hands on the sill of the balcony with his head tilted away from you. This is a common occurrence for the both of you. Standing on the balcony, resting on it while watching the sun set. It was calming for both of you, but also made it much easier to discuss feelings neither of you liked. Past memories, traumas, bad days, any and all of it. But this…this was different.

“...No, I’m not.” Ah, there it is. Xiao’s eyes averted from yours, trained on the sky above the both of you as his hands gripped at the wooden sill. Patiently, you watched him, awaiting his next words. He was tense, and in all the time you’ve known him, you hadn’t seen him this afraid since the fall of Rex Lapis. Slowly, his head tilts to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide, glimmering in the fading sunlight while his pale skin carried a rosy tint that reached all the way to his elven ears.

You smiled gently, reaching over to pat his shoulder- he still tensed, but it was nothing like before. He wasn’t one to let people touch him. Not even you, not at first. He would flinch, shove your hand away, and move from you- always the same actions in different orders. But, over time, he started to relax under your touch. This time was no different as he let out a small sigh.

“There’s something bothering me.” Xiao spoke slowly, his voice gruff and low but also hesitant. “I feel…weird around you. I’ve heard of these feelings in those stories told by Liyuen romantics, how one’s heart flutters around those they…love. But I’m not…capable of that.” He continued on this spiel, and your eyes widened at the way he indirectly confessed to you. But, even as a wobbly smile overtook your lips, you remained quiet. “I’m a Yaksha, an adepti, I-I can’t feel something like this. And yet, I am. I am, and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Xiao groaned, raking a hand through his hair before he turned to you, a small frown on his lips when you rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. You hummed softly, scooting closer before resting a head on his shoulder. “I feel the same way, Xiao. You may be an adeptus, but you still experience human emotions. Feelings confuse all of us, even adepti like you and humans like me. But, there’s no need to be afraid of them.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, letting your eyes flutter shut as his hand shakily reaches over to hold yours. He sucks in a quick breath, letting out a slow exhale before whispering:

“In that case…I think I’m in love with you.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Word Count: 2907

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

- Ky♡♡

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anantaru · 5 months ago

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— his love language

including. diluc, wriothesley, kazuha, neuvillette, ayato, scaramouche, kaeya, childe

genre. fluff & crack, gn! reader

at a regular pace, diluc opens up to you and with such, he reveals that to him actions spoke louder than words, mainly when it came to your loving relationship. the master of the dawn winery wasn't one of sensual speech, in fact, sometimes he was simply at loss of words— hence why showing you instead was all the more easy. it begins in his eyes, how they're always focused on your frame and immediately pick up on when you feel fatigued, the weary expression on your face worrying him the moment you step inside. voicelessly, diluc guides you to your shared bedroom before telling you to relax— afterwards he'll pamper you, boundlessly, do whatever you need him to do even if it consisted of multiple tasks. easy to say, he will still check up on you, be there for you and most importantly, always anticipate your needs, never failing to provide support without hesitation.

everyone knows that words hold the power to uplift and reassure people and their souls, in addition to building bridges between two individuals and so did wriothesley find this to be the most wonderful gift on this planet. he speaks through heartfelt compliments he'd never let you pass on, encouraging affirmations whenever you had a bad day or an artful expression of his emotions through his phrases. within the lively city of fontaine, the man will watch you with earnest eyes and swollen cheeks, "you're so pretty, so beautiful," he was silly, right? making you flustered in front of everyone, yet his words flow like poetry, forcing you to melt as he expressed admiration for your person— a verbal drapery woven with sincerity and love.

since you have been in a relationship for quite a long time, you were aware of kazuha and himself being an adventurer at heart, never failing to perceive solace and joy in the quiet moments shared with you. it doesn't matter where you are, but when he invites you on a journey, you know it's going to end up becoming one of your most dearest memories. in the quietness of the night, kazuha's presence was a calming force and to him, love was found in the gift of uninterrupted time spent together, immersed in meaningful conversations and shared experiences, tender kisses and subtle touches. the connection you had was strong— everlasting, the presence and the beauty within embracing each passing moment.

neuvillette held a lot of personal knowledge which he accumulated throughout the trajectory of his life, although when it came to the relationship aspect of things, he was rather inexperienced. when you two started dating he picked up the habit of expressing himself through physical touch— not necessarily in a sexual way, but in the reassuring kind which brought forth tenderness and closeness, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or a comforting embrace after a long day. the iudex was fluent in intimacy, connection, and the sacred power of making you feel loved in the simplicity of his touch. without wasting time, he always has one arm around you or loved holding your hand as you settle down on his lap, perhaps even offering to massage your shoulders with his soothing touch.

granted, from an outside perspective seeing ayato spoil you with artificial goods might come across as insincere, yet people do not realize that every single gift had a special meaning attached to it. the yashiro commissioner always took it serious, going through the carefully selected goods as he prepared a custom order, securing the gift with a personal meaning and significance. expressing his love for you through gifts and handmade material shone of thoughtfulness and well, there was one necklace that might be your all time favorite. it was when he surprised you with it on your anniversary— and as you inspected it much closer, you admired the complexly designed metal with symbols of his love and the harmony in your relationship— it's utterly beautiful, you tell him as he helped you put the necklace on, the little diamonds attached to it reflecting a deep appreciation and desire to convey his feelings to you.

opening up was hard for scaramouche, yet he realized that if he wanted this relationship with you to be harmonic, he needed to learn and work on it. the moment you feel him open up to you, you couldn't be happier, truly— not only was it a clear sign of effort on his part, but also the willingness to share a hidden piece of himself. despite his rather aloof demeanor, he possessed a subtle way of showing you his trust, in fact, he always needs you to show him that you accept his past no matter what. was it tiresome? not at all, despite some people believing that a relationship like that could become troubling in the future. yet they cannot fathom the deep link you both have and how it came to be. ah well, how beautiful when he holds you in his arms and kisses your forehead before starting to open up, your expression softening momentarily at the calm look in his eyes. it's right there, look close now, when you catch a rare glimpse of appreciation and a hint of vulnerability beneath his composed facade. he's in love, truly, and so are you.

a world without laughter, sounds scary, correct? kaeya believes that everything works more efficiently if you add a little comedy on the side. in your relationship, there was nothing he adored more that laughing together— because in a way, it felt like it strengthened your bond and eased the burdens in your life. spontaneity was another important aspect, you'll never know what the charismatic cavalry captain has in store for you next and you couldn't help but love that about him. really, he had a magical power for defusing tension with a well-timed joke or cheeky banter, finishing it off with messy kisses all over your face and demanding for you to give him a kiss back, in fact, as one might already guess, a world without laughter and without kisses might be straight hell in all of teyvat.

the eleventh harbinger's heart burnt for two different things— first of all it being you, his loved one which he would quite literally do anything for you to be happy, while the second being the thrill of adventure and the willingness to embrace spontaneity, face challenges head-on and earn boastful scars all over his body as a form of trophy. childe's enthusiasm was contagious to the point where the both of you would go on adventures together, or simply try out new things in order to feel a shared sense of adrenaline. freedom was everything in his life, but what mattered the most is for you to be safe— hence why he would never put you in any danger, instead he'd rather get in trouble himself so you could patch him up afterwards. childe knows it's not healthy to get himself hurt on purpose, but feeling you take care of him with your soft hands tracing all over his chest was making it worth it in his eyes.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #wriothesley x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #neuvillette x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x you #scaramouche x you #childe x you #diluc x you #genshin impact headcanons

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angelfishe · 6 days ago

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>> 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

>> scaramouche x kitsune reader ( reverse au )

Instead of abandoning kunikuzushi in the original time line, ei decided to keep him and make him inazuma prince as well the shogunate and leader of inazuma in her place while she's meditating. Him and the head shrine maiden seem to have chemistry together

Inspired a fan art of this au, credits to the artist

After his creation, kunikuzushi was soon crowned to be the prince of inazuma as well as the shogunate of the ruler of inazuma in his mother's place while she was meditating in the plane of euthymia.

He was known as a cold, calculative, cruel but also can be caring for his people, he takes his position with seriousness as well as pride being the son of the electro archon.

In front of the citizens of inazuma he is a strict as well as strong leader. He upholds the rules of the inazuma in high regards following his mothers ideal of eternity.

Amongst the electro nations there are powerful clans as well as powerful warriors and individuals lurking in the nation but not one will be on top of the head of the shrine maidens.

The most powerful yōkai of the current era, the leader of the Narukami shrine as well the heir of kitsune lineage your position was second to the electro archon himself. You were also recognized to be the prince muse.

During your childhood you would visit the electro archon and meet him during his early creation, you and him one time intertwined your hands together and a spark emerged from this action. Even tho he was a puppet he could feel the connection and warmth from this action.

No one is allowed to insult you, it's the same equivalent of insulting the prince himself and anyone would ever do this blasphemous act it's an insult to the electro archon and will be immediately stripped from their position or will be struck by lightning.

You were allowed to visit tenshukaku without permission due to your position, as well when you walk by the guards in order to give a small bow towards you.

Sometimes when duties get too hard, he would lay his head on your lap or chest to hear your heart beat, when he finally knew your present or heard your heartbeat he could rest peacefully knowing you will be there.

One of your duties is to exorcist bad spirits and protect inazuma from them. If there was a spirit that is going rogue in the land you personally would go to the area and banish it, he would tag along with you to make sure you're safe no matter what if he has duties, he will put it on hold because your safety is his priorities amongst all.

You and him sometimes would take a walk together and eat together, many locals recognize you but the prince himself going out with you is something new. Even tho he doesn't have the necessary to eat, he usually enjoyed it because it feels nice sharing a meal together with you.

He would brush your tail due to it bringing comfort towards you, your tail is soft and very puffy as well as big ( similar to Tingyun tail from hsr ) the reason it's big is because it is a combination of your other tails into one.

Sometimes when he's doing paperwork, you would shift into your fox form and lay on his lap and he will continue to pet you.

You bring him comfort as well a lap to lay on when he talks about how he dearly misses his mother even tho he is not allowed to enter the plane of euthymia because it would disturb her meditation. You would comforted and ease his worries.

You would be adorned with expensive kimonos and jewelry from him, exquisite hair pins, kimono made from the finest silk and jewelry made from the rarest of diamonds would be given to you by him.

His favorite activity with you would be admiring the stars or sun on top of tenshukaku as well admiring the fireworks of the festival with his head laying on your shoulder.

He easily gets jealous when a noble man or other yōkai approaches you especially a certain oni who wouldn't stop approaching you and seeking your attention.

He has absolute confidence in your abilities, you're the most powerful yōkai in the current era of inazuma he would always be there to protect you if there's ever a situation of you getting hurt he would personally hunt the thing that dared to hurt you.

If there was ever a battle you and him would stand side by side together, fighting together. Protecting each other.

#genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshi scara #kitsune #raiden shogun #reverse au #genshin reverse au #genshin fluff

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krillkrunchz · 30 days ago

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Gₑₙₛₕᵢₙ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ ₐₛ yₒᵤᵣ bfₛ!·.𖥔 ݁

(I didn’t expect for anyone 2 genuinly like my writing but yipee so more stupid stuff but hcs now also I figured out how 2 decorate yipeeeee)

╰┈➤Sfw,occasional comedic cursing,possible ooc(out of char)

—·.𖥔 ݁Kinich₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

—Hugs from behind when cuddling

—Big spoon :3

—Suffers from PTSD of his past

—Puts Ajaw in a glass soundproof box when he’s in timeout

—He’s the one that usually cooks

—Plans ahead a lot

—The listener of the relationship

—Dislikes but open to PDA

— · 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖Wanderer☽˚｡

—Hugs from behind

—100% the little spoon

—There is a curse word between every 3-4th sentence of this lil bitch

—DO NOT LET HIM COOK HES GONNA BURN THE FUCKING HOUSE DOWN!1!1!1!1!

—Outright HATES PDA

—THE gossip girl(Boy)

—Most likely won’t celebrate holidays unless you force him to

—Yapper 1 of relationship

—₊˚.⋆Lyney⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊⁺⋆

—Big spoon but likes being little spoon at times

—LOVES PDA!he wants everyone 2 know your his <3

—Sometimes brings you onstage to show off how much he won the lottery to have such an amazing partner

—Brings you TONS of roses

—Taking cooking classes from “Father”(Arlechinno) at the moment

—Loves Talking!definitely a yapper

—Rarely curses but if he does it’s when he’s mad

—100% switches to French when he curses lmfao

— ₊⁺⊹Bennett⁺˚.ᯓ

—Somtimes worries you’ll leave him because of his bad luck

—Absolutely adores PDA to show the one thing of good luck he has <3

—ONCE AGAIN….THIS DUDES BAD LUCK MEANS HES GONNA BURN DOWN THE HOUSE IF HE COOKS

—At first he was anxious and scared that his bad luck would hurt you

—Small spooner heh

—Carries unnecessary amounts of first aid stuff

—Overthinks ALOT when it comes to trips

—Doesn’t curse at all(4kids censoring ahh)

—Listener!loves hearing your voice

|dividers on this post is by CafeKitsune go check em out :D

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lovesculprit · 16 days ago

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₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daydreamin'

Ft. Diluc ノ Zhongli ノAyato ノ Wanderer ノ Alhaitham ノChilde ノ Wriothesley

sum: meet cutes with the genshin men <3

contains: sfw, fempov, reader is short in zhongli's, these take place in random au's wc: 8.6k (roughly 1k - 1.6k per part)

a/n: i have missed writing fluff so much !

❥ - 1.6k

The masquerade was alive, full of colour and movement; the huge ballroom was a sea of masks and shining fabrics. The whole room was filled with music, a lilting waltz to guide every step and turn. Couples moved in time around you, their faces hidden.

You had been partnered with a man who was a gentleman but you didn’t seem to click, and though his dancing steps were passable, they lacked the style that truly made dancing a pleasure. You concentrated on following the rhythm, not letting your mind stray too openly. The masked anonymity of the ball was exhilarating, yes, but so far, the evening hadn't held much excitement.

Your eyes automatically scanned the room, and that's when you saw him.

Tall and poised, with his pale blue hair tied back in place, he moved with an ease that seemed to command the eyes of everyone within his vicinity. His mask was a beautiful work in blue and white, framing sharp features and a couple of piercing, unfathomable eyes.

While your partner was stiff and formal, this man carried with an air of quiet intensity that set him apart from all others. His hand was steady at his dancing partner’s waist, his steps precise, but there was an ease to him that made it clear he belonged in this kind of setting.

You tried not to stare, but when his partner twirled, his eyes met yours across the dance floor. It was momentary, just a glimpse before he was carried away, but that single jolt of awareness ran through you. You felt restless all of a sudden, the steady rhythm of the waltz not enough to keep your thoughts from straying.

And just as the melody took on a brighter, more playful tone, so did the pace of the dance. In an instant, you whirled around quickly, releasing your partner's hand only to be caught by another. It was a seamless, yet exhilarating shift, but before you could even register what happened, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

The man with the blue and white mask.

"Good evening" a smooth, lilting voice greeted. "Fortune does appear to be smiling on me, tonight." He was quietly confident, gloved hand steady over yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. For a moment, words just wouldn't come.

"I—hello," you managed, your voice faltering under his piercing gaze. "Good um, evening-"

His lips curled into a very small smile—the kind of smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "You don't sound entirely certain," he said, his voice light and teasing but not impolite.

You caught yourself smiling back at him despite the flip in your chest. "I guess I wasn't expecting the evening to take such an…interesting turn."

"Interesting?" His brow arched beneath the edge of his mask as he moved with fluid grace, steering you into the next step. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Perhaps it is," you said, finding your stride with surprising ease. He danced with an unhurried confidence, as if the rest of the ballroom did not exist, and it was impossible not to be drawn in. "Do you make a habit of catching people off guard?"

His laugh was low, a sound that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

And then, of course, the two of you would twirl together—perfectly timed—and the room would spin with you in that moment. For a moment, it was as though the music itself had slowed to let your steps catch up, the world narrowing to the warmth of his hand at your waist and the steady rhythm of his movements.

"Have we met before?" you asked, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could hold them back.

He cocked his head to one side, studying you with an unreadable look on his face. "Not formally," he replied after a moment, the word tightly controlled. "Though I must admit, I did notice you earlier."

There was something underlying in what he said, an almost calculated quality to the way he picked them, which made you feel that there was more in his answer than he was letting on. "You noticed me?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you; you know your eyes locked for a moment, but you didn't think he'd noticed.

"Indeed," he said. Light and precise were his footsteps, as if each step was rehearsed. "You stood out. It was hard not to notice."

You felt flustered at that, though you attempted to downplay the thought in a careless tone. "That sounds unlikely in a room full of masks and finery."

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice light but with a sharper undercurrent to it. "But even amongst all of this, there are some things worth looking at closer."

The words just hung in the air between you, and you didn't know what to say. His eyes were fixed intently on yours; you couldn't help but gaze into their depth.

"And yet," you got out, finding your voice again, "we still only ended up here by chance."

"Chance?" His voice was suddenly low and touched with silent amusement. He turned you around easily, the room blurring for a moment before his hand steadied you once more. "Let's just say. I'm not in the habit of leaving certain things entirely to chance."

His words made you pause, your eyes narrowing slightly as you regarded him. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled, low and rich; it was almost a confession in itself. "The flow of a dance like this," he began, his voice silky, like the music wrapped around you, "is not quite as fickle as one might expect. Patterns begin to emerge, if you look for them, and well, it becomes possible to guide the outcome.

Realization dawned and you blinked up at him, stuck somewhere between incredulity and fascination. "You mean you counted the steps? To make sure we'd-"

“To make sure we’d end up here, yes,” he finished for you, his tone unapologetic but not smug. His gaze remained steady, his expression calm as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught in your throat as a rush of feelings struggled for dominance: flattery, curiosity, perhaps even a touch of indignation at the subtle manipulation. "And why go to all that trouble?"

His hand at your waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring you as his voice dropped just enough for only you to hear. "Because the chance to dance with you wasn't one I was willing to miss."

The sincerity in his voice took you aback, and for a moment, you were silent. His confidence had been apparent from the get-go, but now, beneath that, you saw something more—something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for your reaction.

"Well," you said finally, your lips curving into a small smile as you met his gaze. "I suppose I should be flattered, then."

"Flattered," he repeated, his voice playful but with a hint of heat, "is a good place to start. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for more than that."

You tipped your head, his words creating a shiver in your chest. "More? Such as?"

"Perhaps," he said, bringing his face inches closer, his voice lowering just enough to speed up the pulse, "to finally see the face behind the mask. It seems somehow unfair to be so drawn to someone so captivating without really knowing who they are."

You laughed softly, "Isn't the whole point of a masquerade to keep such things a mystery?"

His eyes met yours and held just a little too long, "And while the masquerade is lovely, I think I'd rather see you without the mask."

You looked away, the heat in his words catching you off guard. "That's a pretty bold assumption," you said, trying to keep yourself together. "What makes you think I'd even want to show you?"

His fingers tightened on yours just a fraction, but the spark sent shivers through you. "Because I think you'd enjoy it," he said, his voice low, almost mischievous-sounding. "I am only guessing that you're one of those persons who sets a great store by mystery, yet wouldn't balk if that mystery were to be let go at the proper time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "That's quite the gamble."

He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Sometimes the best things are worth taking a chance on."

"I'm sure we could find a time-perhaps after the masks come off-when we can have a real conversation." He stopped there for just a moment, then added, "Maybe even a date."

You laughed softly, and a spark was lit under your chest that you couldn't quite explain. "You're confident-”

He leaned in closer, "If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”

The dance was coming to a close, the music slowing, but he didn't let go of your hand. He gave you a smile full of unspoken promises, "I'll wait, then. But I think you'll find you won't want to wait too long."

You smiled back at him, feeling the chemistry between you build with each passing moment. "Maybe I'll keep you guessing for a little longer."

He gave a small bow as the dance finished, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll take my chances."

❥ - 1k

The chatter of other parents waiting in line outside the classroom filled the hallway, a blend of polite conversations and nervous laughter. You stood near the wall, holding your bag and glancing occasionally at the door. Parent’s Evening always had this awkward tension—trying to gauge how much trouble your child may or may not be in based on the teacher's expression when they called you in.

Off to the side, a deep voice rumbled, "Long line, huh?" You turned to find a tall man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way-broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and there was an air of calm about him that felt oddly magnetic.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a small smile. “They should’ve scheduled these things better. It’s like they expect us to wait all night.”

As your conversation with the handsome stranger flowed, a burst of laughter from down the hall caught your attention. Glancing over, you spotted two familiar figures.

They were crouched together near a display of student artwork, heads close as if sharing some top-secret joke. Your child gestured animatedly, while his son leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over.

Wriothesley followed your gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Well, looks like the wait doesn’t bother them.”

“That’s my kid,” you said, a touch of pride in your voice.

“Annd that’s mine,”

You exchanged a look, realisation dawning.

“They’re best friends,” you both said at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison.

The synchronicity made you both laugh, and the easy warmth of the moment was enough to chase away the awkwardness of the initial encounter.

“Explains a lot,” he said, straightening up slightly. “Every day, my son’s got a new story about the ‘coolest’ thing your kid did or some scheme they’re planning.”

“Oh, trust me, I hear all about it too,” you replied, grinning. “Your son apparently always brings the best cookies to school and hands them out to everyone?”

Wriothesley smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t take praise for that, I’m not the greatest baker, but the shop-bought ones? Can’t go wrong there.”

The teacher’s voice drifted into the hallway, calling another name—still not either of yours. The two of you had a little more time to linger.

The lightness in his eyes softened. “Honestly, though, it’s nice. Knowing my kid has someone like yours to lean on. Makes everything feel a little less… overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, your own smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I do know. It’s… good for them to have someone. Especially when it’s just the two of you at home.”

There was a brief pause as that unspoken understanding settled between you, the noise of the hallway fading just slightly. His eyes lingered on you, thoughtful now, as if piecing something together.

“Just the two of you?” he asked softly, his voice careful but curious.

You nodded, shifting your weight. "Yeah. It's uh- been that way a decent while now. Just me and my kid figuring things out as we go."

His face softened, and a flicker of something vulnerable crossed it. "Same here. It's just me and my boy."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Somehow, despite the ease of their rapport and the warmth in the exchanges, you hadn't expected to hear that. "Really?

He gave a short nod, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but. he's worth it, you know? Even when he's teaching half the class how to be a menace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the shared understanding pulling you closer. "Oh, trust me, I get it."

His eyes wandered over your form before taking in the colour of your eyes Then, as if catching himself, he straightened slightly, his tone softening. "So, uh… what do you do? When you're not chasing after your kid, I mean."

You told him, your response setting off an easy back-and-forth that felt surprisingly natural. He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, even laughing softly when you shared a self-deprecating story.

"And you?" you asked, truly curious.

“Nothing as exciting as you,” he said with a teasing grin before adding, “I’m a prison warden. Keeps me busy, but… it’s good. Makes coming home to my boy feel like the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and you found yourself smiling again. “That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, though he played it off with a small laugh. “I try.”

The kids reappeared then, tugging at your sleeves and talking over each other about some grand plan they’d concocted. Wriothesley crouched down to their level, his larger frame surprisingly gentle as he spoke to them.

As the teacher’s voice finally called your name, you hesitated, glancing back at him.

“Looks like that’s me,” you said, your tone light but reluctant.

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good luck in there. And, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck again, a hint of nervousness creeping into his otherwise composed demeanour. “If you ever need a break from all this, maybe we could grab a coffee tea sometime. No pressure.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected invitation, but his genuine tone made it impossible not to smile.

“For the kids?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened, that boyish charm impossible to miss. “Of course. For the kids.”

“Sure,” you said, smiling at him. “Why not?”

As you walked into the classroom, your child waving enthusiastically behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back. He was watching with a soft, thoughtful expression that almost made you feel like giving love a second shot wouldn’t be so bad.

❥ - 1.1k

The city was busy as you stepped out of your favorite café, the warmth of your freshly brewed tea seeping through the cup and into your hands. Turning the corner, you collided with what felt like a brick wall—or rather, a man in a sharply tailored suit moving with single-minded determination. The impact sent your tea splashing upward, landing squarely on his pristine white shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, your voice full of mortification as you stared at the growing stain on the fabric.

The man—broad-shouldered, towering, and clearly out of place in the crowd of harried commuters—paused mid-step, looking down at his now-ruined shirt. His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight, but it was his striking eyes that pinned you in place as he met your gaze.

“It’s… fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone was stiff. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some tissues with the kind of poise that suggested he’d dealt with worse.

“No, it’s not fine!” you protested, fumbling to grab some napkins from your bag. “Here, let me—oh no, this was hot, wasn’t it? Did I burn you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the genuine concern in your expression.

You grabbed a napkin the cafe had gave you, attempting to help,, hovering uncertainly as he dabbed at the stain. “I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

“I wasn’t, either,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Despite his calm demeanour, you could tell he was in a hurry. His eyes flicked toward his watch, a sleek, expensive piece that looked like it cost more than your entire month’s rent. You followed his gaze and bit your lip.

“You’re on your way somewhere important,” you guessed, wincing. “A meeting?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound annoyed—just resigned. He folded the damp handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. “But accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you said, wringing your hands. “Can I… uh pay for it to be cleaned?”

At that, his eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if the idea amused him. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s really not a problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a quiet authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. “But…” He paused, glancing at the puddle of tea on the sidewalk. “You might want to be more careful next time.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child despite his lack of actual harshness.

He glanced at you again, noticing the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and something in him softened. Normally, a situation like this would have him irritated—late for a meeting, ruined shirt, a stranger apologising profusely but not being able to go back in time and undo it. In his world, time was money, and getting distracted by little accidents was a waste. But for some reason, he found himself looking at you, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else—something that made him pause longer than he normally would. There was something about the way you looked—flustered, apologetic, and yet still trying to make things right—that made him pause.

Diluc found himself caught in a moment of unusual stillness, the frenetic energy of the city seeming to blur into the background. His eyes lingered on your face—a blend of soft, sincere concern and undeniable beauty. He couldn’t quite place why he felt compelled to stay longer than necessary. You were a stranger, after all. But there was something about the way your lips quirked in worry and the brightness in your eyes that made you hard to look away from.

The logical part of his mind urged him to move on—his meeting, his schedule—but the thought of leaving felt… incomplete.

He cleared his throat, his deep voice gentling further. “You really don’t need to worry about the shirt. It’s not the end of the world.”

You blinked, as if surprised by his reassurance. “Still, I feel bad. I’ve ruined your morning.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “If anything, it’s made it a little more… interesting.” His tone was laced with something playful, a rarity in his otherwise measured demeanour.

The way your eyebrows lifted in surprise made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It was as though he’d accidentally caught himself wanting to linger in this fleeting encounter—an anomaly in his meticulously ordered life.

“Let me buy you another drink.” he said suddenly, catching even himself off guard.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your tea,” he clarified, gesturing to the now-empty cup in your hand. “It’s only fair I replace what you’ve lost.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, as if you were searching for words. “But I—no, you don’t have to do that. I should be the one offering—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet finality that left little room for argument. There was no hint of impatience, only a calm confidence that suggested he wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a hurry…”

Diluc glanced at his watch again. For a brief moment, he considered the importance of his next appointment. Then, with a surprising sense of ease, he decided it could wait.

“I have a little time,” he said, meeting your gaze again. “Besides, I’d hate to leave you feeling guilty all day.”

That faint smile returned to his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made your heart skip. There was something magnetic about him—his quiet confidence, his poise, and the subtle charm that softened the edges of his serious demeanour.

“Well… okay,” you relented, your voice small but tinged with a shy smile. “But only if you let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

His laughter was soft but genuine, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “No need,” he said, the amused glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t particularly care about the shirt anymore anyway.

He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked back toward the café together, you couldn’t help but feel like the city’s chaos had suddenly slowed down. With every step, the weight of your earlier embarrassment lifted, replaced by a curious warmth that lingered in the space between you.

❥ - 1.2k

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the garden in a soft, amber hue as the wedding reception continued around you. The hum of chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music. When it was time to take your seats for the food, you found your assigned table tucked near the back of the venue. As you approached, you noticed you weren’t the first to arrive. A man sat in the chair next to yours, flipping through the menu card with a casual disinterest.

He looked up as you neared, and for a moment, you were struck by how effortlessly striking he was. His silvery hair, streaked with teal, gleamed under the warm lights, and his sharp eyes gave him an air of detached confidence.

“Hi,” you said brightly, sliding into your seat. “Looks like we’re table buddies for the night.”

He gave a polite nod, setting the menu down. “It seems so.”

The lack of enthusiasm might have deterred you if not for the faint, curious glance he gave you, as if wondering why you were addressing him in the first place.

“So,” you continued, undeterred, “are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“The groom,” he replied simply. “We were classmates years ago.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here for the bride—she’s a friend from work. This whole thing is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He glanced around the venue, as though appraising it. “It’s… elaborate.”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s an…interesting way of putting it.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, though he didn’t say more. You took that as an opening to keep the conversation going.

“Do you go to a lot of weddings?” you asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, his tone dry. “But occasionally, duty calls.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a grin. “I kind of love weddings. The food, the music, the atmosphere—it’s all so happy.”

He raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, like he couldn’t quite fathom it. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sits and judges everything,” you teased.

“I prefer to call it observation,” he countered smoothly. “It’s more productive than forced small talk.”

You laughed, and he seemed momentarily surprised by your reaction, his expression softening slightly.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at forced small talk,” you declared with mock seriousness. “I’ll keep us entertained all night if I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite his initial reluctance, Alhaitham was surprisingly easy to talk to. He had a dry wit that paired amusingly with your sunny optimism, and he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth. When the dancing began, you noticed he stayed firmly seated, watching the lively crowd with the same calm detachment he’d worn all evening.

“No dancing for you?” you asked, leaning toward him slightly.

He gave you a pointed look. “Do I strike you as someone who dances?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you’d look great out there. Imagine the dramatic twirls.”

“Hard pass,” he said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I’m terrible at dancing, too,” you said cheerfully. “So we can sit here and judge—I mean, observe—together.”

“An acceptable compromise,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

The night unfolded with an ease you hadn’t anticipated. Alhaitham, for all his aloofness, seemed genuinely engaged as you bantered back and forth. The initial polite detachment in his demeanour gave way to something subtler, warmer. While his words remained measured and his tone calm, you started catching little glimpses—fleeting but unmistakable—that he was paying closer attention to you than you realised.

It began with small things. During dessert, as you waved your hands enthusiastically while recounting a story about an awkward first dance at a previous wedding, his gaze lingered—not on your plate, not on the crowded dance floor, but on you. His eyes followed the way you spoke, as though memorizing the way your smile tilted or the soft cadence of your laughter.

“I have to say,” you finished, leaning back in your chair with a grin, “this wedding is definitely one of the better ones. I’ve been to.”

His lips twitched, his smirk almost imperceptible. “High praise. I agree, though I imagine your presence has something to do with that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—was that… a compliment?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive save for the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Merely an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “Noted, Mr. Observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet amusement in the way he refocused his attention on his glass of wine, swirling it gently as though debating his next words. Finally, he said, “You’re remarkably good at making these events less… tedious.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Okay, now I know that’s a compliment. What’s next? You’ll tell me I’m your favourite dinner companion?”

“If I did, would you stop asking questions?” His tone was dry, but there was an unmistakable flicker of amusement behind it.

“Absolutely not,” you shot back.

The festivities wound down, the lively hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of guests gathering their things. You stood near your table, slipping your shawl over your shoulders as the cool evening breeze swept through the venue. Alhaitham stood beside you, as composed as ever, though there was a subtle ease to his posture now, a quiet warmth in his expression.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his admission. “You’re not so bad for a reluctant wedding guest, you know.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerable for someone who insists on small talk,” he said, his tone dry but laced with something softer, almost playful.

He glanced away briefly, as though debating something, before reaching into his jacket pocket. Without a word, he pulled out a neatly folded napkin and handed it to you. You unfolded it, only to find a string of neatly written numbers in crisp handwriting.

“For the next time you find yourself at one of these events,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes steady on yours, “and you need someone to… observe with.”

You stared at the napkin, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Is this your way of saying you’d tolerate my company again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’d even go as far as to say I’d welcome it.”

The honesty in his tone, subtle but undeniable, caught you off guard. You looked up at him, clutching the napkin like it was a secret treasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler.

❥ - 1.4k

The gentle hum of the elevator filled the air as you stepped inside, juggling your bag and a stack of papers you were determined not to drop. You barely noticed the man already inside until you turned to press your floor button and realised it was already lit. Your eyes flicked to him—a sharp-featured young man leaning against the corner with an air of disinterest, arms crossed.

His violet eyes, striking even in the dim light of the elevator, briefly met yours before darting away. His indigo hair fell in soft, slightly messy strands around his face, the casual tousle at odds with the crisp, clean lines of his attire. Something about him exuded quiet intensity, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as the two of you stood in silence.

Just as the elevator jolted into motion, he seemed to shift, his stance straightening ever so slightly. A few moments passed before, quite suddenly, the elevator stopped with a soft lurch.

“Oh,” you murmured, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall. The lights remained on, but the numbers on the display froze.

“What just happened?” you asked aloud, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “Looks like it’s stuck,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You frowned, pressing the button for your floor a few times. Nothing. Then you tried the "door open" button, with no better results. “Great,” you sighed, leaning back. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“It happens,” he said, not quite looking at you.

You nodded, trying not to feel awkward in the confined space. You glanced over at him again, noticing how he seemed strangely composed for someone stuck in an elevator. In fact, there was an odd tension in the way he stood, his arms folded tightly as if he were holding something back.

After a beat, you broke the silence. “So… do you think someone’s already working on it?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I pressed the emergency button.”

You blinked. “When?”

“Just now,” he said, his voice a little too quick. “They’ll fix it soon.”

Something about his answer struck you as odd, but you didn’t press. You instead leaned against the wall and let out a small laugh. “Guess it’s not the worst scenario.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “True,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he added, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “Getting stuck in elevators? No, not really.” you laugh a little, “Why, does it happen to you?”

“...Not exactly,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked to yours then, and for a moment, he seemed completely still, like he was caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his expression tightening.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

He nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… not great with small talk.”

You laughed gently at his honesty. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

He hesitated, the faintest hint of frustration flashing in his eyes before he spoke again, his words awkward but sincere. “I… don’t mind…talking. To you.��

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because his cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away, scowling at himself. “Forget it,” he muttered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly, smiling at him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. You just don’t seem like the type who talks just to fill the silence.”

He glanced at you again, and something in his expression softened. “I don’t.”

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment, then.”

The smallest smirk ghosted across his lips, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. The elevator felt a little less stifling after that, the tension easing as the two of you settled into a companionable silence.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the faint press of his fingers against the emergency stop button, hidden just behind his back. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as he glanced at you one more time, silently cursing himself for how ridiculous he felt—and how glad he was that he’d pressed it anyway.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said abruptly, the words coming out more bluntly than he’d intended.

You blinked, tilting your head as you tried to place him. “Really? Where?”

His gaze darted to the floor for a second, then back to you. “In one of the other departments. You work on the third floor, right?”

You nodded slowly, surprised that he knew. “Yeah, I do. I didn’t realise you knew that. Do you work in the building too?”

He crossed his arms again, his posture stiffening slightly. “Kind of. I’m usually upstairs.” He gestured vaguely upward. “But I’ve passed through your floor a few times.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a soft laugh. “I guess I haven’t noticed you before.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flush high on his cheekbones. “Not surprising. You’re usually… busy. Focused.”

You smiled at that, a little flattered despite the awkwardness of the exchange. “I guess that’s true. I get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

There was a beat of silence before you tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “So, what do you do? Upstairs, I mean.”

He hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Oh it’s…not interesting” he said finally, his tone nonchalant..

“Neither is what I do,” you said, grinning. “So I guess we have that in common.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “I guess so.”

You leaned back against the wall, studying him for a moment. His sharp features, the way his arms stayed folded tightly as if trying to guard himself from the world, the flicker of something softer in his gaze when he glanced at you—it all made him a puzzle you wanted to understand.

Wanderer shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as if steeling himself for something. His violet eyes flicked to yours, then away again, before he finally spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“You know… since we’re stuck here and all,” he began, glancing at you briefly, “I was thinking… maybe after we get out of this, we could… grab lunch or something.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his usual sharp tone softened by a faint flush colouring his cheeks. “You’re always busy, right? Maybe you could use a break.”

You blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, relief flickering in his expression. “Good,” he said simply, as though that was the end of it. But you could see the faint tension still lingering in the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

“I think that sounds nice,” you added, smiling warmly. “Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we just winging it?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll think of something.”

Before either of you could say more, Wanderer subtly reached behind him and pressed the emergency stop button again, releasing it with a soft click. The elevator gave a slight jolt and then resumed its motion, the floor indicator lighting up as if the issue had miraculously resolved itself.

“Oh,” you said, straightening in surprise. “It’s working again!”

Wanderer arched a brow, schooling his expression into one of mild surprise. “Huh. Guess they fixed it.”

“Finally,” you said with a chuckle, relaxing against the wall. “That wasn’t too bad, though. Good company and all.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his smirk deepening just a little as he glanced at you. “Could’ve been worse.”

As the elevator dinged, signalling your floor, you gathered your things and turned to him. “So… lunch?”

He nodded, his gaze steady for once. “Lunch.”

❥ - 1k

The lecture hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students filing in and chatting while the professor prepared at the front. You slipped into your usual seat near the edge of the room—a spot with minimal distractions and a clear view of the board. It was the ideal spot.

Or, it was.

“Hey, hey, hey! Mind if I sit here?”

Before you could even glance up, a whirlwind of energy plopped down onto the seat next to you. You turned to find him—Ajax, also known as the human embodiment of a golden retriever. His ginger hair was messy in that purposeful way, his bright blue eyes practically sparking with energy, and his grin was as wide as the ocean.

“Oh, uh…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Great, thanks!” He tossed his bag onto the desk, completely ignoring the fact that you hadn’t exactly agreed.

Ajax leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who had never doubted his welcome. Before you could so much as adjust your notebook, he started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what looked suspiciously like a crumpled bag of crisps.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked, already popping it open, the scent wafting into the air. “I missed breakfast. You ever accidentally hit snooze like, five times?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the whirlwind of words. “Um, sometimes?”

“Right? Anyway, you seem like someone who doesn’t skip breakfast. Organized. Responsible. Probably always on time.” He tossed a crisp into his mouth and grinned at you.

“I…” You glanced at your notebook, feeling your cheeks warm under his bright attention. “I guess so.”

“Knew it-” he declared triumphantly, “I’m never wrong about these things. It’s like a gift.”

The professor began the lecture, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Ajax would settle down. For a solid five minutes, he stayed quiet, munching on his crisps and tapping a pen against his notebook. Then, he leaned over slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, be honest. Do you actually take notes, or are you one of those people who doodles during class?”

You bit back a smile, gesturing at the neatly written bullet points already filling your page.

“Figures,” he said, sounding impressed. “Your handwriting-” he gestured vaguely toward your notebook. “It’s pretty. Like, did you take a calligraphy class or something?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, clearly trying to stay focused. “No, it’s just… how I write.”

Ajax leaned in a little, his voice teasing. “Yeah, well, it’s very intimidating. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Somehow, I doubt you care about that.”

“You should let me borrow your notes sometime,” he added, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “I’ll pay you back in snacks. Or coffee. Or both.”

“I don’t think snacks are an acceptable trade for hours of note-taking,” you said, your voice dry but teasing.

“Ah, but I bring excellent snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “And I make for great conversation, not so bad to look at... You’ve gotta admit, this class is more fun with me around.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a mock gasp. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think my ego can handle it if you disagree.”

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting beside you,” he said, popping another crisp into his mouth and flashing a wink.

As the lecture dragged on, Ajax continued his antics, though they softened into something less disruptive and more endearing. He whispered comments about the professor’s overly dramatic hand gestures, pointed out a tiny bird perched on the window ledge, and even offered you a crisp—which you declined with a polite shake of your head.

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, his tone softer but still playful, “you’re kind of an enigma.”

You frowned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “An enigma?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re quiet, all focused and put-together, but then you smile, and it’s like—bam. Sunshine. Caught me off guard, honestly.”

You froze for a second, the compliment landing unexpectedly. When you turned your head to look at him fully, Ajax’s grin had softened into something warmer, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your voice lacked the bite you probably intended.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered, leaning back again with a self-satisfied smirk.

You groaned, shaking your head and turning back to your notes but you couldn’t hide the faint smile.

For the rest of the lecture, he mostly behaved himself—though you could feel his occasional glances, lingering just long enough for you to catch him once or twice. Each time, he’d flash you a cheeky grin, like he wasn’t even remotely sorry.

When the lecture ended and the shuffle of packing up began, Ajax turned to you again, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, grinning as if you’d already agreed to whatever he was about to propose. “Same spot next time, yeah? I’ll bring better snacks, maybe something with chocolate. You seem like a chocolate kind of person.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his easy assumption. “I—”

“Great!” he cut in before you could protest. “It’s settled. See you Wednesday!”

And just like that, he was gone, bounding out of the lecture hall with the energy of someone who’d had three cups of coffee this morning.

❥ - 1.3k

The quiet murmur of a bookshop’s ambiance wrapped around you as you wandered through the aisles. The scent of old pages and freshly printed novels mixed in the air, a calming backdrop to the soft rustle of paper as other customers leafed through books. You found yourself in the history section, your eyes scanning the spines for the title you’d been meaning to pick up for weeks.

There it was—finally. Unfortunately, it was perched on the highest shelf, just out of reach. You stood on tiptoes, stretching as far as you could, but the book still eluded your grasp. Letting out a soft huff, you glanced around, wondering if there might be a stool or ladder nearby.

“Allow me.”

The deep, resonant voice startled you slightly, and you turned to see a tall man standing beside you. His amber eyes were warm and steady, framed by long, sleek hair the colour of dark chocolate with faint streaks of gold. He wore a well-fitted vest over a crisp shirt, the kind of attire that seemed more suited to a museum curator than a bookshop employee. Yet the small name tag on his vest confirmed his role here.

“May I?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips as he gestured toward the shelf.

“Oh, uh, yes. Please,” you stammered, stepping aside.

With an elegance that seemed effortless, he reached up and plucked the book from its high perch, holding it out to you as though presenting a rare treasure. “This one, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, your smile growing as you took it from his hands. “Thank you so much….I didn’t realise the shelves here went so high up here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low melody. “The shelves in this section are rather tall. A peculiar design choice, considering the average customer’s height.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile deepening. “If you ever require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Zhongli, and I’m here most days.”

“Thank you, Zhongli,” you said, glancing down at the book in your hands. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes softened, and he inclined his head slightly, a gesture so refined it almost felt like a bow. “Enjoy your reading. That particular title is quite enlightening.”

“You’ve read it?” you asked, curious.

“Many times,” he admitted, a faint gleam of fondness in his eyes. “If you’d like, I can recommend others in the same vein. There are several works that complement it quite well.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that. I might have to come back for those recommendations.”

Zhongli’s gaze lingered on you briefly, a warm, easy smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he said in a tone as calm and composed as ever, “you have a very natural beauty. It’s... refreshing, in the best way.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, and you glanced down at the book in your hands, trying to keep your composure. “Oh, um, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he continued, his expression earnest. “Your smile is particularly radiant—it brightens the room more than you might realize. It’s the kind of detail one notices immediately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling a mixture of flattered and flustered. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, low sound. “I suppose I am. But in this case, it’s impossible not to be. I’m certain I’m not the first person to tell you this, though.”

“Well, it’s not something I hear often in a bookstore,” you replied, your smile widening despite yourself.

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he said with a small, confident nod.

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling as the ambiance of the bookstore buzzed faintly in the background. Zhongli glanced down at your book again, his thoughtful expression making it clear he was not one to speak without intent.

“That book,” he began, gesturing to the title in your hands, “Explores a fascinating era. Have you always been interested in this period of history?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease, a smile crossing your face.

His amber eyes lit up, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the tall bookshelf. “You have excellent taste.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that “That’s high praise coming from someone who seems like they might be a historian themselves.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Not quite, though I’ve spent a great deal of time immersed in historical studies. You could say it’s a passion of mine.”

“I can tell,” you said, tilting your head. “You speak about it so eloquently. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” he replied cryptically, though his smile didn’t waver. “And long enough to learn which shelves require a ladder and which ones are within an acceptable reach.”

You laughed at his response, the sound light and genuine. “Well, your knowledge certainly came in handy today. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be strategizing how to climb the bookshelf without breaking any bones.”

“I’m glad I could save you the trouble,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though, I must say, I suspect you would have approached it with admirable determination.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, grinning. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have to try.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, Zhongli proving to be an impeccable listener with a knack for making even the smallest details feel significant. He shared recommendations for other books with a quiet enthusiasm that made you wonder just how vast his knowledge was. At one point, he mentioned a nearby café where he often went to read, his casual suggestion tinged with the faintest hint of an invitation.

“Do you spend much time in bookstores?” he asked after a pause, his tone curious.

“Probably more than I should,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “There’s something so comforting about them. The quiet, the endless possibilities on the shelves… it’s like a little escape from the world.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and for a moment, he regarded you with a look so earnest it made your pulse quicken. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates the nuances of a place like this. Most people simply pass through without truly seeing it.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying an unspoken depth. You glanced down at your book, your fingers brushing against the embossed title. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“I have,” he said simply. “But encounters like this… they remind me of the value in taking notice.”

Your heart fluttered at his sincerity, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Do you think you’ll be here tomorrow? I might need help finding those other books you mentioned.”

Zhongli’s lips curved into a warm smile, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I would be delighted to assist you again. Come by anytime.”

With that, you exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, but the connection lingered, the promise of another meeting sparking a quiet anticipation in the back of your mind.

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