M E N

m e n

ᕱ⑅ᕱ ۪ ۫ 〜 ꒰ 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒷𝓎, 𝒻𝓁𝓎, 𝒻𝓁𝓎. al haitham x f!reader. sfw. reader is in a skirt ﾉ some playful bicker ◞ some kisses ◞ some naughty touches ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა ﾉ jus fluffy stuffs ꒰ྀི 1.2k wc

you’re taller than al haitham as children— all dangly, clumsy fawn legs where he’s only a baby sapling that’s just begun to sprout from the soil.

even with his fluffy mop of slate hair, the tippy top of his head reaches under your chin, and it takes two of his strides to match one of your own.

perhaps it’s rude and not at all like you or your mother had taught you, but it’s so much fun teasing him about it— the ‘know-it-all’ little brat of a schoolmate who you consistently place second to, who won’t play with you at lunch break and sighs in boredom as often as he breathes and so evidently does not belong in a classroom of children his age.

it’s so much fun watching him struggle to reach for a book on the fourth shelf, one that you pick out with ease (but certainly cannot read with ease), hand to him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, ruffle his hair and seemingly disregard him with a giggle, a lax wave of your hand.

"looks like you're too short to reach that shelf, haithie. i guess it just can’t be helped!”

neither the book he’s been wanting to read for weeks nor the strap of his suspender sliding off his shoulder have his attention now that you’ve stolen all of it for yourself. 

his head tilts curiously and he looks on in a bit of a stunned daze as you skip off to the section of the library that houses picture books and fairytales, two pigtails swaying side to side and the heels of your loafers scuffing along the carpet and he thinks you’re akin to a butterfly— or flutterby, as you like to call them— prancing about in that carefree way you tend to do.

haithie.

what a peculiar feeling the nickname brings him— a certain eagerness, childlike joy bubbling in his tummy and giving rise to something that he can’t seem to place a name to.

(no one’s ever called him by a nickname before. it’s… nice. just nice, and nothing else. yes, that’s correct… nothing else.

…

his face warms at the realization.)

and then he hears you squeal, watches you trip and tumble to the ground, scrape your palms and sit there pathetically on your knees with your shoulders slumped over.

what a clumsy little flutterby you are.

tiny hiccups are peeled from your throat and you begin to cry softly, and al haitham worries. his feet move on their own when he walks toward you, digging in his knapsack for the last bandage he has left. 

“take this.” the boy who you think dislikes you speaks to you for the first time, so you look up at him for the first time, lips wobbly and lashes sticky and cheeks glistening.

his face, however, is unchanging; he is as straight-lipped as you’d expect him to be, brows set in concentration and eyes sharp, piercing.

(but if you look closely, you’d see how the edges are clouded in concern, blunted down and soft and tender and caring— all the things you’d expect him not to be.)

“you really ought to be more careful,” he leans down to your level, wags the bandage in front of your face, “how will you be able to take notes in class if you hurt your hands?”

“you… you…” 

his words present themselves to you as a challenge and it makes you seethe, furrow your brows, scrunch up your nose, frown. 

al haitham swears there must be fumes coming out of your ears. 

“you’ll get wrinkles if you keep pouting like that.”

“don’t pater— pat— hmph! don’t patronize me!” you yap the too-difficult word awkwardly, snatch the bandage from his hand and run off, cheeks swollen like freshly puffed corn, either from the pain stinging at your palms or in embarrassment at having made a fool of yourself in front of your very first, very real, perhaps unrequited, and only love.

two decades later and you're standing uncomfortably with one knee up on the kitchen counter, tippy toes barely brushing the tile floor as you aimlessly reach for the spice tin sitting at the top of the pantry.

you grapple at air, slide your hand over to the left of the shelf, and to the right, and to the left again, and then you think you finally have it when you feel cool metal graze over your fingertips. stretching, wiggling your fingers as far as you can, you hook a nail under the side clasp and drag it to the ledge of the shelf; you have it, until—

“ow!” your hand flys down to the top of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up in your position that has you rather exposed, to where two lithe fingers much larger than your own surprise you with a pinch, and then a cheeky squeeze of your rear.

“need help with that?” before you can register it, your husband reaches up with ease to take the spice tin in his own hand, shaking it in front of your face almost tantalizingly. 

you frown.

(but then you catch sight of the flex of his bicep as he brings it to your level, the veins lining his forearms, his fingers drumming playfully over the tin. and your frown lessens.)

“haithie, i almost had it!” you lower yourself to the ground and whine, craning your neck up towards al haitham. it’s merely a second after that he raises the spice tin high in the air with a pompous smirk on his face that only serves to make him even more handsome, higher up than the top shelf of the pantry and certainly too high for you to reach.

his grin widens when you bounce on the balls of your feet, grip at his shirt and use it for leverage as you try so, so hard to take the tin from him. to no avail, of course.

you furrow your brows and puff out your cheek, look up at him as if you were about to throw a tantrum and then he’s brought back 20 years to his school library, akademiya-prep physics textbook in his hands and you splayed on the floor in front of him with your pigtails and scraped palms and blubbery cheeks and sullen little flutterby wings.

“you’re such a meanie.”

"and you're too short to reach that shelf, darling,” he muses, eyes swimming with hazy mirth as he finally holds out the spice tin for you to grab, watches on with a tender smile as you hug it to your chest and release a dissatisfied little hmph!

you’re older now, shorter than him now— your lips are fuller and your cheeks are dimpled with smile lines, but your childish peevishness has remained. perhaps it’s one of the things that endears him most to you.

and then he’s placating you the way he knows best, running his knuckles adoringly along the lift of your cheekbone because you’re just so cute when you get all pouty and petulant like this, because you melt under his touch like cream in the sun, because your pout softens and before you realize it you’re biting on your lip to hold back a giggle.

oh, how quickly he’s able to soothe your heart like this. his little flutterby.

"i guess it just can’t be helped.”

𐂯 ‧₊˚ thanku for reading i hope u luv teasing hubbie haithie as much as i doooo :3 🌈🍀💝☮️ ! ! consider reblogging or leaving a comment if u enjoyed ෆ

Strawberry Kisses

Neuvillette x fem!Reader Your husband wants to take you out on a date for your birthday. You, however, have different plans. wc: ~2.4k Contents: Fluff leaning towards tooth-rotting; You are his wife. A bit suggestive towards the end. A/N: for my dear friend @boundinparchment. Juni, this is the closest thing I could do to delivering the pretty Judge to your doorstep, please enjoy <3

You scrunch up your face as the bright sunlight hits you. How many times did you tell the maids not to wake you up by drawing back the curtains like this? You groan in annoyance, before a large shadow blocks out the light. You blink slowly until you are able to fully open your eyes.

To your surprise, you are met not with the sight of your maid, but your husband’s handsome face.

“Neuvi, what are you doing here?!” you gasp, “shouldn’t you be in Court already?”

Neuvillette chuckles. “Not today, chérie. In fact, I took the entire day off – just for you,” he announces.

You can only gawk at him in disbelief. Chief Justice Neuvillette, the backbone of Fontaine’s society, who always works tirelessly to maintain the nation’s order, taking time off work? That was absolutely unheard of.

“I couldn’t exactly leave you alone on your special day, now could I?” he notes, evidently amused by your shocked expression, “I’m going to spoil you today and you will only get the best of the best – even more so than usual. And I will personally see to it. That is just as much my duty as overseeing the trials is. I already made arrangements for the two of us for today and—”

“Neuv, stop talking for a second,” you giggle, “and come here.”

From your spot on the pillows, you reach your arms towards Neuvillette, gesturing for him to join you in bed again.

“I’m sure whatever plans you made can wait for a moment,” you sigh as he bends down to place a small kiss on your temple, “I rarely have the chance to even see you when I wake up since you’re always off for work so early– let alone be held in your arms and spend the morning in bed.”

Your lover gapes at you – is he blushing? After a second, he regains his composure as his face relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Of course, mon cœur. Give me a moment, I’ll need to get something for you first.”

Neuvillette returns shortly; to your surprise carrying a tray with breakfast in his hands. He smiles at you as he sets it down on the nightstand before shedding his dressing gown and slipping into bed next to you.

"Happy Birthday, mon amour," he whispers against your skin as he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

You happily munch away at a croissant, raising it to his lips for him to take a bite now and then whenever he sets down his cup of coffee. It doesn’t take you long to notice the small box on the tray, matte silver topped off with an elegant blue bow.

“Open it,” Neuvillette encourages you, his voice soft.

Carefully, you untie the bow and open the lid to find a stunning tear-shaped pendant inside, an iridescent blue and pink opal set into polished silver on a dainty necklace. You don’t fail to notice how it looks exactly like the ornament he always wears on his cravat. You are so stunned by its beauty that you can only stare at it for a long moment, your lips parted in awe.

"Do you like it?" He asks, a fond smile gracing his lips.

"I love it, it's beautiful," you breathe, unable to tear your eyes from the iridescent jewel.

"Then I'm glad. Would you like to wear it today?" He asks softly.

You nod happily and lean forward to present your nape to him as Neuvillette plucks the necklace from the box with his slender digits.

Your skin tickles where his hands graze you as he moves your hair to the side. With nimble fingers he fastens the clasp and the pendant slides down to rest over your heart, the metal instantly warming to your body.

He places a tender kiss against your nape, his nose pressed to your hair for a moment before he sits back again to admire you.

“It suits you even better than I imagined,” he notes, before pulling you closer by your waist. You curl against his side like a cat, humming appreciatively as you let his warmth and his scent envelop you.

You feel so comfortable that you almost drift off to sleep again; the faint rustling of Neuvillette turning the pages of the morning paper and the lazy circles he draws against the skin of your back, together with his warmth, are enough to make you doze off.

He chuckles, pulling you back to the waking world before you stray too far.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to sleep through your Birthday, chérie? As much as I love lazing around with you, I suggest we get ready soon. I made plans for us, I’m sure you would prefer not to be late, hm?”

“What plans exactly, love?” you ask as you slowly sit up, suppressing a yawn.

Neuvillette folds away his newspaper and takes off his reading glasses. “First, a private tour of Galerie de l’Orangerie; They have recently remodeled their exhibition and it’s not open to the general public yet. After that, we have a table for lunch at Benoit, and for tonight, the new play at the opera–”

“Neuvi,” you giggle.

He looks up, confusion evident on his face.

“I appreciate the effort, I really do, but… we’re not doing that. As my birthday present…” you pause to give him a peck on the tip of his ear, then one on his nose. “I want to have fun with you, without the usual …everything... expected of us. Let’s just… go with the flow today, okay?”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You get dressed as quickly as you can, shooing away your maid as she approaches with a pastel-colored mass of corsets, frills and petticoats for you to squeeze into, as is “appropriate for a lady of your standing”. Emerging from your boudoir in a loose, flowing summer dress, you smile at Neuvillette as you take his offered arm, the smooth fabric of his shirt cool as it crinkles beneath your hand.

Waving off the servants’ attempts to get you to wait until a carriage is prepared, you giggle, “No, we’re going for a walk!”, before you drag your spouse outside and grin as the sun finally hits your face.

“Where would you like to go, chérie?” Neuvillette asks as you revel in the feeling of the soft breeze caressing your skin amidst the summer heat.

You shrug as you descend the steps leading down to the cobblestone pavement, your grin still etched onto your face. After turning your head left and right a few times, you point down a random street.

“That way!” you announce, before you pull him along by his hand.

Eventually, your path leads you down to the merchant district. As you stroll through the meandering alleys, occasionally pausing to look at a shop’s window or inspect the goods at a market stall, Neuvillette always holds you close, either by your hand or your waist.

Of course the citizens recognize him wherever he goes, and you smile to yourself when you overhear a hushed “Look, isn’t that the Chief Justice with his wife? He looks dashing as always, even dressed casually like that!" or a “How sweet of Lord Neuvillette to accompany her for shopping!” from the passersby.

As you giddily drag him through the various shops and market stalls, Neuvillette’s patient smile never wavers. If anything, he seemed to gradually relax and almost looks at ease despite this being so far from what he is familiar with.

After looking at the goods of a few vendors for a while who mostly sold shiny, but useless little trinkets, you picked out a cute sun hat for yourself, the big silvery blue bow reminding you too much of Neuvillette’s own flowing locks to skip on the offer.

You smile at your reflection in a nearby shop’s window, admiring how the satin ribbons from your hat complimented your hair.

Spotting a fancy looking patisserie across the street, you drag your spouse along, your eyes sparkling at all the delicious pastries on display. A few short minutes later, the two of you emerge from the shop again, Neuvillette carrying the small bag containing your snacks for the afternoon. You decided on an assortment of colorful macarons as well as a Charlotte aux Fraises for you both, while your lover settled for simple pain au chocolat to go with his tea later.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You return to your shared residence not much later in the early afternoon. Immediately making a beeline towards the back of the palais, you step out into the garden, smiling to yourself as you inhale the pleasant floral scent that permeates the air.

Neuvillette follows closely after you. You turn to find him standing next to you with his hands linked loosely behind his back, his head inclined toward you, watching you with an amused expression.

“I’d like to take our tea in the pavilion today, if that’s alright with you, Love.”

He hums lightly. “Of course it is. Wait here, I’ll tell the maids,” he replies with a soft smile before stepping inside.

You take that moment alone to wander through the garden, letting your fingers brush through the leaves in passing. On your way deeper down a slightly overgrown path you pause to watch a little robin for a while as it hops around the branches of a peach tree, chirping happily. Your gaze follows the small bird as it takes off, startled by the crack of a branch nearby. Once you lost sight of it, you turn, and spot one of the maids approaching you.

“Ah, there you are, Milady,” she sighs in relief, “your tea is ready, just as you wished. Lord Neuvillette already awaits you at the pavilion.”

You nod and thank her as you pass her, making your way towards the pavilion that is tucked away in a secluded corner of the premises.

As you step through the ornate wrought-iron arch that separates the little retreat from the rest of the garden, your breath hitches. Amidst the overgrown rose bushes and lush hydrangeas, Neuvillette stands on the grass to marvel at the flowers, his back turned to you. At first glance, he looks slightly out of place, being such a rare guest out here. His tall frame and dark boots and trousers create a stark contrast to the delicate pink and white blossoms all around him – but then the sunlight hits his hair just right, and he looks ethereal like this, his blue strands glowing in between the shimmering silver that cascades down his back.

For a moment, you can only stand there completely dazed, helplessly admiring his beauty. You really are too lucky to be blessed with the sight of him every day.

As if he could feel your gaze on him, Neuvillette turns around, a knowing smirk dancing on his lips.

“I almost thought you got lost,” he chuckles, before gesturing towards the pavilion where a small table is already set for the both of you, steaming tea and beautiful pastries waiting for you. He pulls out your chair for you, waiting until you’re settled before taking a seat across from you.

After you finished your cake, half of which you insisted on feeding your husband in little bites with your fork, you sigh happily and plop down into the soft grass. Rolling onto your back, you gaze up into the sky to watch the clouds travel past. A soft breeze soothes the scorching summer heat, and in between the low chirping of birds and the pleasant fragrance of the roses around you, you can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. Your gaze falls onto Neuvillette, who somewhat awkwardly stands next to you, obviously unsure of what to do with himself.

You giggle as you grab his hand to pull him down into the grass with you, drawing a startled yelp from the Chief Justice. “Stop being so stiff, we’re not in court!” you snicker as you gently tug on the ribbon holding his hair together. It comes loose almost immediately, his gorgeous flowing locks splaying out around him as he lays down with you.

You stare at him, admiring the faint blush that dusts his cheeks as you try to get your bearings. His beauty really is otherworldly, you muse, especially with his hair disheveled like this.

Neuvillette regains his composure after a moment, smiling gently at you as his shoulders relax. He pulls you close by your waist and you wiggle and shift until you lie comfortably on his broad chest.

He places a tender kiss to your forehead, then another one on the tip of your nose before he speaks up again.

“I hope your birthday turned out as you imagined it, chérie.”

The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through his chest, his breath tickling the side of your neck as he holds you close.

“Mhmm! All thanks to you,” you hum happily, before pulling back slightly, a mischievous smirk on your lips. “But I’d like to have my final present now!”

Neuvillette raises a perfectly sculpted brow at you. “And what would you like as your ‘final present’, ma chérie?”

You giggle. “You, mon cœur! You’re my present!”

A shit-eating grin on your face, you close the gap to finally claim his lips.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

On the back terrace of the Chief Justice’s residence, the estate’s maids are quite busy sweeping dust off the marble tiles, as they do every afternoon.

After a while, faint voices from somewhere deep in the garden reach their ears. At first, all they can make out is the sound of muffled laughter, but after a while the wind turns and the voices become clearer.

A deep grunt, followed by a softer, more feminine laugh.

"Oh– wait, mon amour– ah– here, are you sure??" the deeper voice all but stutters. Oh, is that– Lord Neuvillette?!

“Yes, I am. I want– no, I need you right here, and right now, Neuvi. Now quit squirming, Love, and let me… unwrap my present…”

A strangled moan from what must be Lord Neuvillette’s throat comes next, prompting the younger maid to be rooted in place, a deep crimson blush covering her entire face and ears, her eyes glued to the ground. The head maid giggles softly and whispers “Come, I am sure there is some cleaning to be done in the kitchen”, before steering the younger woman away by her shoulders.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

+ dad!neuvilette. reader is referred to as wife & mama. no warnings, this is just fluff. i had a sudden thought about neuvilette having a son and this is the result >< not proofread!

bubbles of merry little sounds has filtrated neuvilette’s ears. they prick up in response to the owner of the voice with a smile on his face.

“what is it, sweet boy?” he whispers, tone barely owning a decibel, close to the same pointed ears of the little boy in his arms. pressed against neuvilette’s thigh are pairs of feet that have scarcely covered its width, the boy’s arms hook over his right shoulder, hands clawing up. “oh,” breathes neuvilette as he follows his son’s eyes upwards, witnessing an aquabus slowly passing by overhead. “that is what we call aquabus. it’s fontaine’s main transportation system. do you want to ride on it?“ the boy claps his hands, squealing. “alright, shall we ask mama?”

he brings a hand to his son’s back, supporting the little body while securing him in his arms. neuvilette spots you on one of the fruit stalls a few meters away from where they are, examining an apple in your hand.

“monsieur neuvilette?”

pivoting on his heels, neuvilette catches sight of a middle-aged woman standing in anticipation with a basket in her hand. she has a kind smile pasted on her lips and sparkles in her eyes.

“yes, madame?” he politely asks. “how can i be of service?”

“oh, no, monsieur! i apologize for interrupting your alone time with your son, i tried to stop myself but i could not help it,” the woman explains while waving her hands. “what a beautiful little boy. he looks exactly like you, monsieur!”

the little boy pushes his cheek to his father’s own while hugging his neck. tendrils of hair brush against neuvilette’s skin, tickling the side of his face. it’s as though he’s wondering how to decipher the syllables uttered by the woman before him.

it has long been considered by many that his son stands as the glaring copy of neuvilette: from the sharp eyes touched with magenta and blues, to the pearlescent hair that has started to show strikes of aquamarine.

“how old is he, monsieur?” pitches another bystander.

“he is ten months old.”

“has he started walking, monsieur?”

“we are slowly working on that, aren’t we, sweet boy?” neuvilette turns to his son, who puffed his cheeks as if in determination.

“what’s the first word he said? is he talking already?”

“well, he can mumble a couple incoherent words. he is a determined student—” neuvilette has been cut short by his son’s another round of clapping.

the little boy leans his head to the side, facing the bystanders gathered around him and his father. “m… mama! p… p… papa!” he beams before hugging neuvilette again, as though proud of his showing off. “m… mama! papa!” repeats the boy with a jovial lilt.

all around them, laughters from the onlookers fill the air with vivacity. their faces morph in unfiltered euphoria; either clutching their chest for the adorable boy before them or clapping their hands together with him.

neuvilette watches with wonderment, his heart overflowing in bliss. albeit possessing a mastery of his countenance, a wide smile creeps up to shape the edges of his lips.

this little boy, the sweetest of all, is yours and his forever. flesh and blood, yours.

“i hate to sever this merriment, but i’m afraid we must join my wife now,” neuvilette excuses, his eyes and that of the bystanders wandering in your direction.

you raise your hand for a slight wave, still unused to the attention that comes with being the chief justice’s wife.

“what’s with all the ruckus?” your curiosity shows through raised brows.

neuvilette softly bounces the boy in his arms. “blame this little one for showing off his communication skills. he is marvelous at it. aren’t you, my boy?”

“m… mama! papa!” chirps the boy once more, giggling at his own achievement.

Chunklette🐉

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ OF DRAGON BEHAVIOUR AND OLDE TRADITIONS. 

fandom. genshin impact

pairings. neuvillette, zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw + nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, heavily influenced by 'dragon' behaviour (is a bit leaned on a/b/o), 5 + 1 fic type (the + 1 is nsfw), possessive neuvie/zhongli, sfw: collaring, scenting, marking, nsfw: nesting, both of them have big dicks lol, talk about breeding, not edited/proofread, written in lowercase

word count. 1.8k

notes. i'm so down bad...

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ flaunting. 

once a dragon is mated, they like to show off their mate proudly. to enhance their physical aspects and to proclaim their trust in them, mates get draped in the dragon’s treasures. treasures this mythical beast usually hoards with jealousy. the shinier and bigger the treasures, the higher is the mate in social standing. 

neuvillette is less lavish with his treasures, simply because his priorities in his riches lay elsewhere. this is why you often where the brightest pearls, adoring your neck or shiny shells around your wrists. he enhances your beauty much subtler, but nonetheless you’re still worthy to be called his mate. after all, he’s a dragon of water, it’s only right for him to drape you in the gifts of the sea. 

zhongli prefers you in the finest silk and your skin adored with gold and other treasures found in the rich land that belongs to him. as a dragon of earth and especially as geo archon, all the gems are crafted in the most beautiful jewelry. everything to enhance your beauty. he especially likes you in cor lapis, a jewel in a color that he claims as his— and seeing you in this soft hue of orange swells pride in him. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ collaring. 

collaring can be seen as a step further of flaunting. the dragon creates an individual collar for their mate, to not only protect one of the weakest points of their body, their neck, but to also immediately signal that they belong to them. it signals protection and ownership, which is why mates rarely part with their gifted collars,as they’re also the first gift they receive as a dragon’s mate.

neuvillette knows that collars, by human standards, are not something normal. this is why he takes great care to create a collar that not only shows his strength but also fits within the domain the two of you move. this is why your collar is not a traditional one, instead resembling a tight necklace adorned by pearls and silver. it’s just enough to calm his instincts but also a fashionable item— one for which you’ve received many compliments. 

zhongli on the other hand has crafted a collar of which his elders would be proud of. it’s heavy on your neck, made by his own hands and not your usual jewelry. despite that, the collar is made by the best gems and jewels zhongli could find, and of course in his colors. and to ensure you’re comfortable wearing such a heavy collar, the inner side is embellished with the most expensive velvet he could find. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ acknowledgement. 

another important aspect between the relationship of a dragon and their mate is the acknowledgement of the hunt. once the dragon has successfully brought home the game, it is now up to the mate to appraise said game. only once they give their approval can the food be shared between them. this also includes all their offspring. 

neuvillette is always very careful with the food he brings to you. he ensures he’s the only one touching it, as tradition demands, and satisfactory enough for your plate. to him, keeping you fed and happy is much more important than to take care of his own needs. even when you always scold him, when he neglects himself, in this aspect he won’t bulge. 

zhongli himself has a very expensive taste and only the best is just good enough for his mate. no matter what you say, he will hunt on his own and pick all the herbs and berries himself, or else he wouldn’t even present the food. your approval is the highest praise, only one of the many reasons why zhongli takes so much care and time to honor this tradition. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ scenting. 

scenting is one of the few habits and traditions that are more intimate. a dragon scents their mate for several reasons. firstly, it’s one of the final steps of their ‘ownership’ over the mate. clothed in their treasure but also bathed in their scent. secondly, the process itself is very calming for the dragon, almost meditative. 

neuvillette likes to scent you when he comes home. it calms not only his dragon but also his mind. because of that, he never scents you in public, thinking it as a private matter and a treasured one added to that. it’s not something others should witness— you in his arms, pliant to his nosing, his gentle kisses and nibs on your skin and especially when he removes your collar to scent you on your neck. 

zhongli, despite being an old dragon, behaves as if he’s freshly mated and a young blood when it comes to scenting you. he dislikes smelling others on you or any artificial scent that’s not you. he has no shame scenting you in public, but over the years living with you he has reduced to the almost scandalous behaviour to nothing more but scenting on your wrists and a quick nosing on your cheeks. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ marking. 

marking is quite similar to scenting, only this behaviour varies from dragon to dragon. for some, a so called ‘mate-bite’ is enough, others like to add new markings everytime they couple with their mate. but there are even some dragons, who enjoy being marked by their mates, a most unusual behaviour. 

neuvillette has always enjoyed marking you, but is very gentle with it. his mate-bite, another physical sign that you belong to him, is located on your right shoulder, a wound healed a long time ago. he much prefers when you mark him, your teeth sinking in his much sturdier flesh. it leaves him breathless, just the mere thought of you marking him making his head spin— he loves to leave his marks on you, but he even loves it more when you mark him, to tell the whole world that he belongs to you. 

zhongli always loves to admire the marks his sharp teeth leave behind, trace his fingers over your reddened skin— he’s fascinated by your vulnerability and your eagerness to please him. but what matters most to him is that you love to wear his marks, never hesitate to show them off by not hiding them. social decorum would demand for you to hide them away behind draped fabrics, but instead you proudly wear them, as if they’re badges of highest honor. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ nesting. 

as every other animal, be it mythical or not, dragons go through a cycle. at it’s highest point, their fertility is much more prominent. to ensure the increased chances of success in producing offspring, the biology of dragons demands them to nest during the cycle. if the dragon ignores this inner instinct, it grows irritated or even aggressive to everyone who is not their mate. nesting ensures the comfort of both the dragon and their mate and helps them to properly prepare for their coupling. 

the moment the first child of the couple is born, nesting becomes a daily thing until said child passes the first stages of growth. the dragon builds a nest in their den, a different one from the ones in which the parents couple, and ensures that both mate and offspring are within this nest. the warmth and scent of both parents help the child to imprint on them and to recognize them later on as their sires. 

neuvillette, when it comes to nesting, is very picky about it. his nest has to be ready before his cycle starts and you have to be in it as well, pliant and ready for him. if you’re not comfortable, he gets stressed and that doesn't end well. 

for the most part, he has his instincts under control, but when you’re in his nest, naked and flushed, he tends to get feral. and once he lets go of that tight control he has over himself and his body, the dragon in him comes out. 

his pupils turning to slits, fangs sharpening and nails becoming claws. scales appear on his skin, his horns grow— neuvillette lets go of his human skin and becomes the closest he can be to a dragon without hurting you. it always excites you, seeing your usual calm and stoic mate all excited about the thought of breeding you. 

he’s an attentive lover, even if he could just slide into your hole and start fucking you stupid. instead he takes immense care to prepare you, hours even, lips and hands leaving marks on your skin while he makes you cum on his tongue several times. 

and then, when you see stars behind your closed eyes, your thighs shake around his head and you try to calm your breath— then he slowly slides into you, his giant cock hitting you in all right places, making you scream again—

then, only then, when you’re pliant and open for him, a flushing mess beneath his massive body and moaning his name— only then he would truly start to fuck you. 

zhongli is very attentive during nesting, but especially as your lover. he always puts your needs above his, simply because he finds pleasure when you enjoy yourself. 

despite being mated for a long time, you’re always nervous about nesting, especially about the most intimate part of it. zhongli is big and it’s always a tight fit, even if he prepares you with his fingers and mouth. you’re never in pain, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he would make you cry, but you’re still understandably nervous. 

zhongli doesn’t mind it, he understands and instead makes sure you’re distracted enough to not lose yourself in spiraling thoughts. it also helps when you’re breathless from the countless orgasms he has already given you, your hole wet enough, almost gushing, so the slide is smooth and painless for you. 

and you can’t lie, you enjoy his big dick, but sometimes it’s too overwhelming. yet the many years together has taught him many tricks and especially things you enjoy. 

you flush beneath him, when he starts praising you, his rich voice causing goosebumps all over your body. you whimper, when his fangs craze over your skin and moan when he actually bites you. 

but you truly lose your mind when he starts fucking you, slow but deep thrusts, taking his time while you writhe beneath him. it seems so effortless, how he’s destroying you, as if he isn’t going crazy when his mate is in his nest, calling his name, clinging onto him, begging him to go faster, harder, begging for more. 

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ARKHAM MAID 2023