Wriothesley Genshin - Tumblr Posts

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐚 ˚☕·˚ ⋆₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

•°. *࿐ Your cafe is claimed by your regulars to be a precious gem in Fontaine. with a plentiful assortment of only the finest brews and ingredients imported from other nations, it isn't hard to attract the attention of those strolling by the streets of Quartier Lyonnais.

You specialize in not just selling homemade pastries and jam or coffee, but tea. From simple Inazuman matcha to pungent and earthy pu'er from Liyue, you can brew up just about any variety. Your carefully hand-picked blends, fresh and luxurious, tend to be more favored amongst your customers rather than the ordinary servings of coffee. Now, everyone demands your tea, and normal cappuccinos and expressos are pushed to the side, forgotten.

There is something different about your small business that is just incomparable to other cafes on the same street. It's very welcoming, with all of the little pots of sweet-smelling, colorful flowers growing at the front door, the cute menu propped outside the window with all of the week's special selections printed in neat, loopy handwriting, and the tantalizing fragrance of rich baked goods.

Inside, wooden shelves with extending rows of packaged bags tied up with pink ribbon and labeled jars of dried tea leaves line the wall behind the counter and your workspace where you conjure up every single beverage by hand.

Each day, the smell of the store seems to change.

One Monday, refreshing mint and sugary fruit, Wednesday is reserved for the mouth-watering scent of buttered bread that you whip up to restock the glass displays, and Fridays are sometimes rainy, and when waves of chamomile crash onto the front doorstep nothing but floral notes of rose and warm apples fill your nostrils.

Recently, the past few weeks have gone by steadily. The mornings are the busiest, when the heavy curtains are pulled away and the open sign is hung up on the door, most of your usual customers rush in for a to-go bag of berry scones and their favorite blend poured into paper cups with decorated lids stuck on top.

You work assiduously and to show what makes your tea, well, yours, you take extra care when it comes to the orders you receive.

Each cup always includes a special sticky note with either a little individual message for most of your frequent patrons who enjoy chatting with you no matter the time of day, or messily scribbled smiley faces and stars and words of encouragement. It's your unique trademark and you can only hope that your purple-inked notes can make someone's day just a bit better.

Surely, one of your customers must have spread the word about your distinctive way of preparing your tea, because one day, when you least expected it, crowds of people were grouped outside the door while you had temporarily closed for your lunch break. It was overwhelming, with all of the new faces to greet and welcome inside, and the enormous amounts of custom beverages you had to make. A rush of excitement overcame you on that unforgettable day. It was hard getting through everyone all by yourself, and while you wished you had someone else to lend a hand, you felt a sense of accomplishment and took pride in your hard work.

The bustle died down over the next couple of days, and soon, you were operating back at a more consistent pace you could easily deal with without breaking a single sweat. But your business has definitely gained popularity since you've been having more customers than you did several months ago.

The people weren't just your customers, but many have been made your friends. The elderly of Fontaine who come in for a cup of jasmine and your scrumptious pound cake are very fond of you and your sweet personality, finding your company as bright as sunshine. They were kind, always sitting at the table near your brewing station, and you enjoyed conversing with them back and forth as you took orders, always welcome into their daily gossiping sessions.

The success brought you a sense of happiness you had once been separated from, and you felt as though everything was finally moving down the right path.

It's Tuesday, and Tuesdays are more of a relaxing day. The soothing aftermath of the tumultuous storm Monday was.

Early afternoon, the clock ticks, and the hand points to three twenty-seven. there are no customers currently dining in and Fontaine has stopped at a peaceful rest. It's just you and the comfort of your shop.

To indulge in the serenity, you make yourself your favorite blend. Popping open the lid of the jar of shriveled matcha leaves, you dig into the green blend with a measuring spoon and place it in a tea strainer. It falls to the bottom of your glass with a meek clink! and you pour in the scorching hot water from your kettle.

A fresh batch of scones is baking in the oven of your workspace, it's a new recipe you decided to test out. Dried cranberries and chopped almonds, a simple combination that you think will work well for when the cold arrives.

Sitting at the counter, perched on a tall chair, you blow at your green tea and drink prudently, fearful of somehow managing to burn your tongue. Even as an expert with your magical tea-making hands, you have not mastered the art of comfortably drinking cups of liquid flames. The bottom of the cup, wet with moisture from when you washed it not a long while ago, sits comfortably on a pink fabric coaster you knitted up, and you stare down at your reflection in the murky tea while listening to the ticking of the oven timer.

Boredom strikes once the clock hits three thirty, and you crank up the music on the radio. It's soothing, the tune that switches on, and the beat in the background reminds you of the pitter-pattering of rain against the window.

The bells hung at the top of the front door jingle merrily and the startling sound jolts you out of your absentminded reverie. You crane your head to peer at who is entering. Another new face. An intimidating one, at that. Most people would recognize the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, but you, who had only arrived in Fontaine a few months before to start your business again from scratch, hadn't a clue who the mysterious man could have been.

Your spoon that you were previously stirring around in your tea is dropped back in with a light splash, staining the countertop as you try to clumsily muster up the words to welcome the customer and reach for a napkin to clean up your mistake.

Wriothesley watches you struggle from the front door before making his way inside. His first impression of you, when you were staring off in the distance and daydreaming, has completely changed. You seemed so peaceful when your mind was elsewhere, yet you were a total klutz when it came to reality. It's slightly amusing to watch, how much you fumble to properly clean up and stammer over your words, but he manages to keep a straight face.

"Welcome...!" You squeak from the counter, not even noticing that he was quickly approaching. Your voice trails off as you quickly glance down to wipe away the spill on the counter and toss the napkin off to the side.

You keep your head low and count inside your head for five seconds to both regain your "professional" composure and scold yourself. Wriothesley barely has the time to return your greeting.

"What can I get for you?" When you lift your head up, you're met with the sight of his stony eyes examining yours, and you pull back, startled. When did he even sit down?

The only thing that comes to mind when you eye the stranger is that the puffy dunes in his hair resemble pup ears, and the thought makes you stifle a laugh. An intimidating face paired with strange hair...

He seems to notice the way you falter for a moment and he awkwardly clears his throat, stiff expression softening a bit.

"What do you recommend? I'd like to try a cup of tea, any variety would be fine,"

"Hm, alright then," You ponder for a bit, turning around as you scan the tea shelves. Seeing how he wasn't familiar when it came to the vast world of tea flavors, you chose something simple.

"How does white tea sound? It's very subtle," You offer kindly, stretching up on your tippy toes to grab the jar of white tea leaves from the tall shelf. You open the lid and tilt the container over in his direction, showing him the long wrinkled buds.

Wriothesley, a man who loves drinking tea, has never tasted actual high-quality tea, let alone made a cup for himself. He wants to, of course, as he is aware of all sorts of tea there is, but to experience the finer end of tea is something he has never done.

With his line of work, he's busy. When he wants tea, all he does is go out and buy a couple cheap tea bags of his favorite brand, bring it back home, and toss one into a cup of hot water. Making loose-leaf tea, from what he has heard, is a tedious process, the hardest part being the tea leaf picking. Tea leaves are expensive. The cost to enjoy upscale things, he supposes.

Even if he had enough to purchase some for his own, it was hard to find them, which must have been why your store was so well-liked since you weighed and sold tea leaves by the pound with your own homespun stamp and branded label.

Fascinated by the sight of freshly harvested tea leaves up close, he nods eagerly, "That sounds lovely. I'll have a cup,"

Another thing that Wriothesley notices about you is that you are certainly clumsy, but not when you're working.

Your back is turned to him while you try to settle down your workspace (which is untidily strewn with several used tea strainers, slips of paper with squiggly writing and doodles that are illegible from his sight, and bits of tea leaves), but he can tell by the thorough manner your hands move that you take each cup of tea very seriously. There's a perfectionistic glow in your benign eyes, a visible glint of determination that somehow enthralls him.

You call out to him after arranging a precisely measured amount of tea leaves on a strainer as the kettle is bubbling on the small stove, "Would you like anything else in your tea? Perhaps extra lemon or honey...?"

"Both, please,"

"Good choice! Coming right up. It's nearly done,"

A spritz of lemon juice from a slice you just cut mixed with a dash of honey, and it's finally finished. As you set down the white mug of piping tea, you peel off a little sticker mark with your cafe's name from a notepad you were carrying and stick it onto the front of the cup.

"Please enjoy," You present it to him with a coaster underneath and a soft smile.

"Thank you," Wriothesley waits for it to cool a bit, eyes lingering on you longer than they probably should as you wait for him to try it. You notice how handsome his weary features really are and anticipation gnaws away at you as he gingerly blows at the steam.

The dinging of your oven timer breaks your gaze away from him and scurry over to check on your scones that were long forgotten. A wave of relief washes over you as you pull out the dessert tray and from the awkward eye contact, you find your hands to be slightly shaky and your cheeks warm as you let the scones rest on the counter.

The corners of Wriothesley's lips turn up a bit and he chuckles at your embarrassment, a sound that is far sweeter than you would have ever expected to come from the man. When he languidly takes his first taste of the tea, you don't think he's as frightening as he first appeared.

You find yourself panicking a bit and you aren't sure why you care so much about his opinion, but you're rambling and spouting nonsense before you can fully register it.

"How does it taste? Is it to your liking? I may have added too much lemon, and I know some people don't like their tea too sour. I can make you a new cup, if you want me t-"

"It's perfect," He reassures you with a warm grin and you instantly close your mouth.

"It tastes even better than I can make myself, which is probably expected since I just use cheap tea bags. The lemon adds the right amount of citrus. It's wonderful as is, I promise,"

He drinks about half of it before adding a charming, "Thank you very much,"

The racing of your heart relaxes and you can't help but return his smile with an eased sigh, "Phew, you had me worried there. You're very welcome... as long as it tastes good, that's really all I can ask for,"

Your eyes travel back to the scones that are now mildly warm and you light up.

"Would you like a scone with your tea? It's a new recipe I'm trying, and... I could use a taste tester," You try to say slickly, bringing over the tray.

"Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to-"

"Count me in," Wriothesley says, somewhat enthusiastically, and the way you perk up happily is the best possible way to repay him.

You eagerly slide to him the nicest shaped scone out of the batch on a small brown napkin, and he realizes that he can't stop himself from smiling. To pull himself together, he coughs into his hand and holds back the idiotic grin threatening to spread on his lips.

He picks up the scone, inspecting the cute homemade sort of look it has, "What's inside of it?"

"Dried cranberries and almonds. I wanted to release a new version to see how it would do with the customers, and I had those ingredients left in my pantry so I whipped something up," You explain bashfully, poking at one yourself.

"They're a bit lumpy, though... I think I've been losing my charm at, erm, shaping things recently. I'm too used to making cakes with those fun molds,"

He gives a small laugh, "They're special in their own way. Gives them more character," He insists, breaking off a piece to eat.

It's moderately sweet, having more of a bread-like taste than a cake or cookie. The cranberries pop nicely and are delightfully tart, while the almonds give more texture.

He lets out an approving hum as he chews before you can even ask for his feedback.

"Delicious," He says with a nod, taking more bites, and you huff a bit, narrowing your eyes at him, a far contrast to the usual kind look you always have.

"Hm, I have a feeling you're just saying that to make me feel better..."

Another chuckle escapes him as he shakes his head earnestly, "I'm being honest. It tastes good. Why don't you give it a try yourself?"

And so you do. It's a bit dry, could use more cranberries maybe? But it really isn't as bad as you were expecting.

Wriothesley sees the surprised widening of your eyes, "See? Perhaps you're just underestimating yourself. I'd buy these any day. I think your customers will love them,"

He pops the last of his scone and finishes it up, wiping his fingers on the napkin.

"I'll take your word for it," You murmur, rosy pink rising to your cheeks as you look off to the side with hidden frustration.

Loads of people applauded your success. New friends you had made ever since coming to Fontaine complimented how delicious your tea was, customers who tried your desserts for the first time praised you greatly, and the elderly ladies who regularly dined in flattered you and made several comments about your beauty. All of which you responded humbly to. Not once did they make you nervous, more so grateful. So why was it that you were getting all giddy over some random man? Because he liked your scones?

As you fall silent, Wriothesley downs about half of the rest of his tea. He really wasn't lying when he said yours was better than any cup he's brewed for himself.

He clears his throat, noticing how engrossed you were with the window.

"May I have some more honey?" He asks. You look over at him, dismissing your useless train of thought. At his silly question, you're back to all smiles in no time and he prefers that more than when you're distraught.

"Yes, of course. How much would you like?"

"A spoonful would do,"

You hand him a spoon with more of the same honey you originally put into his tea and he thanks you for it, stirring it around to his liking before he's back to sipping.

Surprisingly, the rest of the time he spends with you is not as awkward as before. He's an expert at making small talk, it seems, nearly as much as an expert you are at tea. His voice is comforting, rich, and a little cheeky, you realize, when you learn he has a slight teasing side to him. It could put you to sleep, you think to yourself.

It doesn't feel like he's a simple customer, but more of a companion. Like someone you had known your whole life, and you don't think you've ever had a conversation go as smoothly as this one. By the end of it, you're genuinely laughing and it's a real laugh, not the sheepish ones you make when you're talking to any other customer. He does and doesn't make you nervous at the same time.

Nearly an hour passes by in a flash, his tea is cold when he downs the last of it. You're a bit upset when he says he has to leave.

"Thank you for..." You try to search for the right words, just like you were when he first entered.

"For talking with me. I enjoyed it very much..." You admit shyly, "-Wriothesley," You added quickly, testing how it officially sounded on your tongue.

He grins at the use of his name, "Of course. The tea was amazing. Perhaps I'll visit soon, to help you taste-test again,"

You really hope he does.

"I'll be sure to have a new recipe for you to try then!"

Once he's gone, you clean up his cup of tea. Recalling how he had been scraping his spoon against the bottom, some moments he was intently fixated on whatever was going on. Curious, you peek into the mug, nearly dropping it onto the floor by what you see.

The tiny bits of tea leaves leftover, like a trail of ants, curve into the small shape of a heart.

(kinda rushed bc i was so excited to release this, my first full length fanfic!! wrio's kinda occ, but he's still cute and silly. my only thoughts for the ending: rizzley.)

(ignore any mistakes im too tired. all forms of interactions such as reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! i hope this doesnt flop)

also yes, i headcannon wrio drinks cheap tea fight me

I AM

LOSING MY MIND

wriothesley’s reaction when you yank his tie?

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

👀👀👀👀👀

"Daring today, are we?" Wriothesley asks, sharp smile and narrowed eyes —daring you to do something further— so very close to your face. His red tie is in your hand, wrapped around your fist, and the reason why he's close enough that you can see the flecks of green and grey in his eyes.

"Maybe you're just not daring enough," you goad. You give another sharp tug, and it surprises him enough that he jolts an inch forward. When he rights himself, the glint in his eye promises that if you keep this up, you'll be in for it later.

His hands move to your waist, wrapped palms warm where they hold you in his grip. Wriothesley retaliates by dragging you forward (you do not yelp in surprise. You don't) until you feel the beat of his heart in his chest. He smells so good— something masculine, like some cologne, paired with his own natural smell of sweat and whatever tea he had that morning. It's addicting.

"You still want to keep the attitude, honey?" He asks, voice a low rumble. You feel the vibrations travel from his chest through yours, spreading through your entire body and making you fucking tremble. Your teeth clench, and you pointedly look away from him, hoping he can't tell the way blood rushes to your face. His red tie falls from your hands, fluttering limply in the air before settling once more.

Wriothesley leans forward, lips brushing your ear, hands clutching at you and holding you close. He's so warm. "Good choice," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. If he wasn't holding you up, you think your knees would have turned to jelly.

As if he knows it, the bastard smirks —you can't even see it, the way his cheek is pressed against yours, but you can feel it. Feel the smugness and triumph that oozes from him— and blows where his lips had just been. Makes you fucking shake like a leaf in his hold.

"Now," he says, more to himself than you. "Just what should I do with you, sweetheart?"

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

✩﹕To the Stars Shining in the Depths.

Mutual Comfort

Content: comfort fluff headcanons, he comforts you and then he gets comforted too, gn reader, you/your, old writing of Wriothesley :p

-Should he say something? Obviously he should, he thinks as he watches your shoulders slump as you enter the shared sleeping quarters. Wriothesley, as big and burly as he is and uncaring on the outset, he cares too much for you to even take a step back to think things through. Rather, he thinks in stride,  approaching you from behind, wrapping his arms around your stomach and burying his cold nose into the crook of your neck. His lips leave a feather light touch against the skin too, but instead of kissing it, he asks you what is wrong, in a tone so soft that it is nearly out of character for him. 

-He rubs your hips as he goads you on to speak to him, please tell him what’s wrong, his touch says, how can he make it better, his kiss to your skin says, he has to do or say something that could possibly improve your mood or else he will crumble along with you

“Mon doux amour, tell me what is bothering you.. Don’t feel like this around me, like you have to hold it all to yourself. I’m not here just to look good or to act like a wall.. I’m your lover, your safe space, mon soleil..” he speaks into your ear, holding you against his chest as if you’d fall if he didn’t have his hands to hold you upright

-Slowly but surely, he pries away at your walls until you spill all the truth of your feelings to him. After he feels the need to stay with you for a while longer, to be your rock. His presence is not overwhelming or pressuring, and he gives you ample space and silence to make you comfortable and safe again. If you wish to be left alone completely, then he obliges, but not before telling you that you can always  turn to him, either for advice, a simple chat or a tea service. It doesn’t matter. He will be there for you to lean on, and he will kiss every insecurity away from your thoughts

-The same sentiment goes for him, even if oftentimes he greatly prioritizes your wellbeing over his own. He knows his limits and that they are nearly skill high, but oftentimes, too, he neglects himself for the sake of longer work hours, especially when there’s an issue in the underworld that needs his attention. He doesn’t want to see this place fail, he is not some snob that likes to see people suffer. If he was, there’d be no infirmary, and no free meals, no entertainment, no coupons, nothing but prison cells and depression and a fortress that would eventually end up flooded

-So when he sees you enter his office with a tray of tea and some snacks, he knows he has gone too far. He buries his face in his hands as he sits at his table, embarrassed to look at you but not too embarrassed not to crack some joke on his expense. And by teasing you, he hopes to lessen the importance of the situation to remove the stress he sees in your eyes and your posture, clear worry written all over you

- ”Surely this isn’t what I think it is ? You’ve missed me? How come?” he grins a toothy grin, but his eyes give away how tired he is and the moment you propose the idea of a break he sighs and his head hangs lower. He knows he can’t persuade you to leave him to his work again and he knows he can’t sweet talk his way out. So he agrees to the tea, and the break, as he always does when you ask. He sits close to you rather than opposite of you. He is craving that contact he didn’t have for the few days he holed himself up in his work business. 

-He is sure to touch you in some gentle manners. He runs his fingers up your forearm and then down, idly stroking the skin with the tips of his calloused fingers as he sips his tea, and then the next time he slides his fingers down towards your hand he sneaks his fingers between yours, interlocking your hands.

-He can’t help but feel at ease like this, and sometimes in situations like these, when it is just the two of you, you can easily catch him looking at you. Admiring you in such a way that is so pure and gentle. Like a puppy. He doesn’t even hide it, and when you catch him, the corners of his mouth twist upwards in a soft smile and his eyes sparkle as you give him attention. How  sweet

-In the privacy of his office, he leans on to you now, his head on your shoulder and his soft breaths warming your skin

-Even when he is stressed, he doesn’t lack words to compliment you inside and outside, and at times he finds himself feeling overwhelmed with the love he feels. He never put his focus on love, and never really thought he’d find someone suitable for him, but now that he has that.. he is almost lost at navigating the territory. He just knows he’d do anything for you.

Translations:

Mon doux amour - my sweet love

mon soleil - my sun

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

it would be nice to sit somewhere quiet with you

pairing: wriothesley x reader

summary: wriothesley is getting used to having you in his life (fluff)

word count: 1.9k+

a/n: i just assumed he lives in the fortress of meropide + he has a voiceline about how his handcuffs are built differently and can't be unlocked by any old master key, which prompted this ! i love him sm and i want to treat him so kindly

"What's this?"

The question leaves your lips before Wriothesley has completely let go of the small, metallic item in his fist. It's rare for him to invite you out for lunch, especially when it's an offer to meet you in the heart of Fontaine's main city. His invitation arrived at your desk in the form of a handwritten note, stating the time and place.

It's where you find yourself sitting opposite him now -- in a small cafe within a hidden corner of the city. A mostly empty area, but serving a delicious choice of tea and sweets. His words, not yours.

A beat of silence passes between the two of you.

It's broken when you gasp in surprise, cupping the key with one of your hands and dropping it onto the other hand as though expecting it to disappear between your motions. "Oh, I didn't realise this was a special occasion."

"It's so you don't always have to ask when you come down to visit me." He explains plainly, as though his actions haven't caused a complete rewiring in your brain of what you can expect from Wriothesley. He brings out his own room key to compare with yours.

A look of delight crosses your face when you see that they look completely identical. Clearing his throat, he drops his key back into his pocket, leaning his chin onto the palm of his hand. If he lets down his guard anymore, he's certain he'll blush at the adorable way you're acting right now. An odd, panicked thud hits within his chest when he realises you're not even looking at him, too busy gazing down at the key he's given you fondly. His nervousness changes to a pleasant warmth when you look up at him with a smile on your face.

"Thank you."

Wriothesley shrugs, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a nonchalant motion. "If it's for you..." The words trail off quietly as a different train of thought crosses his mind. "I'm glad you liked it." He says instead.

In the fourth months since then, you've visited him exactly six times and stayed over once. Although he's starting to think that it doesn't count, considering you left before he'd woken up. Not that he can recall the note that you left behind for him clearly in his mind. Not that he's counting your visits or memorising your excuses for coming this far his way. And he's definitely not got an eye out for you, knowing when you step into the Fortress of Meropide and the times of your exits.

So, as he stands, eyeing the dark and empty room which should hold you in some corner but doesn't seem to, he gets a little panicky. He knows you entered the Fortress of Meropide a little over an hour ago, although he hasn't kept track of your whereabouts since then. It takes a second for the panicked flutter in his heart to register as worry. But it's rendered him slightly useless. All he's doing is staring at the mattress covered in the soft sheets you'd brought with you on one of your visits in a stupid way.

There's a click from the bathroom door and he just manages to get a glimpse of your silhouette before you've barrelled into his chest. Wriothesley lets out a sigh of relief, letting his hands tangle into your hair. The bathroom, of course.

He hadn't even thought to check whether there was a light peeking out from underneath the door of the bathroom.

"Hi." You mumble, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing lightly. Screw his dislike of surprises apparently. "Did I scare you?"

The subtle teasing tone in your voice has the corners of his lips twitching.

"Obviously." He replies. "Who doesn't turn on the light when they enter the room in complete darkness? Even if they're going to the bathroom to shower first." He interrupts you as he notices you open your mouth to retort back to his question. Without waiting another moment, his hand slides from your hair to your cheeks, using a thumb to stroke your skin gently. His other hand reaches to flick on the light switch, revealing your flushed cheeks from the warm shower.

"I missed you." You say quietly.

He returns your sappiness with a roll of his eyes and a grin. "Can't even go without me for a couple of days, huh?"

"Mhm." You twirl a piece of your hair around your finger in thought. His eyes catch the motion, deciding whether to intertwine his free hand with yours. "When did you get the body wash I liked?"

Without answering, he buries his head into the crook of your neck and breathes deeply. It's warm. You feel yourself squirm at the ticklish sensation, only relaxing once his hand comes up to the back of your neck and massages it. An image sprouts in your mind of a hand holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck and you laugh.

It's always been like this; feeling a little like a give-and-take, except he keeps giving and so do you. A mumbled 'what?' brushes over your shoulder. Something seems to bloom in his chest when he notices you've left things behind in his room again. You don't apologise for it anymore. He wonders exactly when that happened.

Maybe somewhere between the third and fourth time you came over just to sit on his bed with him.

"Nothing." You pull away from the hug to look him over. His hair is tousled a bit more than it usually is, as though he ran all the way here from one side of the fortress to the other. A smile threatens to spread over your face and you bite your lip to stop it from appearing.

Wriothesley raises an eyebrow. You look all warm and cozy after your shower, and he honestly just wants to bundle you up and fall asleep with you in his arms. As though you can see the thought crossing his mind, you untangle yourself from his arms immediately, flopping back onto the bed with your arms spread wide.

Your eyes are closed lazily and you let out a contented sigh. "Ahh, it's so nice that I can curl up in bed since I'm all showered and clean."

Wriothesley gives a throaty laugh at the sight of you. His hands rest on his hips now as he rakes his eyes over your form. "Fine, fine. Want to help?"

You shoot up in bed instantly, eyes wide. "Yes."

"C'mon! Let me see how many layers you're actually wearing."

"Don't dissect me like some kind of insect--"

Wriothesley isn't stopping any of your movements though. Maybe he had something a little more dirty in mind when he made the offer, but it seemed that all you wanted to do was undress him and curl back into bed. He can live with that.

The cape comes off his shoulders first, and surprisingly, it's heavy. A quiet settles over the both of you once you actually move to undress him, and you can feel his eyes scanning your every move. Every movement of your hands against his bare skin or every notice of your intense gaze at his layers of clothing sends a jolt of electricity through him.

It's difficult to tell what he's thinking when he gets like this. You fold his cape neatly in half and place it to the side. You'll start a pile, you decide. As you get to work on pulling off his tie, you realise too late that he'll probably want to hang it up.

Your eyes don't leave his exposed collarbones as you toss his tie over to the side. A guilty feeling weighs you down, and you look up at him, only to find him still watching you with a curious look on his face.

"What? You're pretty," You state, only slightly embarrassed that you've been caught. Before he can retort with anything, you give him a kiss just above his collarbone. Wriothesley takes in a visible sharp breath, and you feel like you've won something. The waistcoat slides off his arms with ease as he lets you nudge him wherever you want.

It's self-consciousness instead of guilt that creeps up onto your next as he still doesn't say a word, merely watching your movements with an intense gaze. You feel a heat burn across your cheeks. You don't even realise you're clenching your fists until one of his hands envelops yours and swipes a thumb over your knuckles.

"You wear so many layers." You're throwing the waistcoat to the side now, shaky hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"It's cold down here." He pauses, tilting his head to think. "And it looks professional."

You snort. "Mm, yes, your loose tie is very professional."

"It adds personality and it makes me look good."

"Not going to argue with that last part." You mumble as your fingers fiddle with his shirt buttons clumsily. Finally, you’re able to get everything off, leaving him shirtless. It’s easier to see his breathing this way. It’s mesmerising. You brush over the scars on his chest absentmindedly. The way his even breathing stutters as you do so brings you back to focus on what you're doing. “Ah, sorry.” 

Before you can move away, he grabs your wrist, holding your splayed, apologetic hand in place. “It’s okay.” His voice is softer when he says that, almost shy. When he’s sure you’re not going to stop touching him, he lets go of your wrist. There are scars accumulated over years of fights and whatever else he hasn’t told you yet. Using just one finger, you trace the outline of a few of them on his chest and his stomach. The whole time, he keeps his breathing even, watching the thoughtful look on your face. As you slowly drop your hand back to your side, he asks a lingering question in his mind. “Can I touch you?” 

“I just showered.” You pout, shoulders slumping slightly at his suggestion. 

“Nothing else, I promise.” 

Wriothesley takes his time. His hand nudges at the top of your loose, bedtime shirt until he can kiss you on your shoulder. Soft pecks trail up to your jawline and his hand tilts your head slightly so he can bite you gently. A tentative hand travels up to the bare skin under your shirt and squeezes the side of your waist. When you don’t object, he pulls the shirt off of you, returning to wrap his arms around you as soon as he does and pulling you close to him. Another kiss, on your cheek this time. Again, on the corner of your lips. And the last one, a yearning press of his lips against yours as his hand strokes your jaw. 

He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “Just one more minute like this, and then I will be getting into the shower.” 

It’s warm in bed next to you. He’s curled up behind you, still placing kisses against your neck and brushing your hair aside as you squirm in his hold. With his arm slung over your waist, there’s not very much you can do. Maybe he’s addicted to kissing your skin. 

“I think I want to follow you around tomorrow.” You suggest hesitantly. There’s a small moment where you think he might actually say no to you, but he just nods and goes back to kissing your neck, brushing his lips down to your shoulder. 

“It’s pretty boring though. All paperwork and other things that I probably should be doing but I’ll ignore for a bit. Until I can't."

You’ve known him a bit too long, you realise. There’s a distinct lilt to his voice that tells you he’s smiling as he’s saying it, even though he’s got you facing the other way so that you can’t see him. 

“Don’t care.” A sigh leaves your lips as he gives you one more long kiss against your shoulder before pulling away. “I want to hang out with you.” 

You thread your fingers with the hand wrapped around your midriff, fiddling with them as you drift off to sleep. Wriothesley watches the silhouette of you breathing before deciding to leave you be and pull you closer to him instead. 

I think I’m afraid of losing you, he thinks. But maybe it’s still a bit too early to tell you that. 

how i imagine their dynamic to be

— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

Quick drawing

Do I have a new obsession? Possibly...

Wriothesley has fallen asleep on the job.

It's not a surprise, not in the least. He's spent more time at the Fortress of Meropide than he has at home lately, overworking himself with an unfathomable amount of new inmates to house.

He's always taken his work quite seriously, both as a show of gratitude to the people of Fontaine and to protect his pride in having the most inescapable prison in the entire nation. And more than that, he's always refused your help much to your chagrin.

You find him asleep at his desk, piles of paperwork buried under his head as a makeshift pillow. He snores softly, meaning that he must have just knocked out recently.

A quiet sigh escapes you as you tread over to his sleeping form, draping the coat dangling on the back of his chair over his body as a temporary blanket. Fontaine is chilly, and despite his unusual warmth, risking Wriothesley getting sick is the last thing you want in the world.

It strikes you then. He's asleep. Asleep, in front of you, completely vulnerable and unknowingly allowing you to observe every part of him without judgement: the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, human and alive; the hair that's fallen out of place and over the eyes which you love so much; the light murmurs of his recited dreams leaving his lips yet unintelligible.

You're surprised that it's never dawned on you before. You've rarely had the chance to see him sleep.

Wriothesley always roused before the crack of dawn, waking you after him with his lips pressed to your forehead. "Good morning, pretty," he would greet you before taking off for the day. And he was so warm to hold at night that you would often fall asleep before him, comforted by the slow beating of his heart against your ear.

It's a strange sight to see him looking so unguarded, all evidence of the torment of his busy day washed out of his expression as he snores.

You shouldn't. You know you shouldn't. But you can't help it. The Kamera is pulled from your bag before you can stop yourself, fingers nimbly getting the lens ready without stirring him. You're just about to take a picture worth a thousand words when—

"Mornin', pretty."

You almost drop the Kamera out of surprise, clutching it to your chest while you glare at the smugness written all over his face. There's a gruffness and slur to his voice that makes you weak in the knees, so unlike how you're used to hearing him in the mornings when he's already had his coffee.

His steely eyes peer up at you curiously as you try and stammer out a weak excuse, to little avail. You should have known that the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide would have sharp enough senses to wake with even the smallest disturbance. He sits up straight, the coat hanging on his shoulders falling off onto the seat.

(It makes him melt that you've attempted to keep him warm, even though it seems like you've come all the way out to the Fortress at such an hour just to check up on him.)

He looks around. "No one escorted you?"

You bashfully avert your eyes, fumbling around with your Kamera and trying pathetically to hide it behind your back as if you weren't caught red-handed already.

"The guards let me in."

"But you came alone?"

His frown deepens when you nod. Wriothesley gathers up his remaining papers into one pile and shoves them aside before striding over to you. "Have a guard escort you home. It's dangerous to go back alone," is his demand.

"You're not coming home tonight?" You ask quietly, lips pulling back into a small pout of disappointment. His heart aches at the thought that he may have been neglecting you in the last few days, even more than he had been neglecting himself.

"I have to finish up some things," he tells you with the slightest bit of guilt bleeding into his words. He runs a hand through his hair before sighing. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

It's a lame offer, asking the love of his life to sleep in such a dinky, run-down place. But the light that explodes in your eyes and smile tell him that you don't care. You never would, so long as you were by his side.

"Okay," you whisper, and he kisses you in apology.

That night, at an hour so late that not even the prisoners make a peep, he realizes that your Kamera is still set down on the coffee table beside your resting form. He has drowned you in his coat and a spare blanket, laid you out across his office couch, and though it's not luxurious you seem to be resting well.

Just a few more days. A few more days of processing all of the new papers sent by Neuvillette and he would be free to come home to your loving arms and fall asleep in your shared bed. For now, this would have to suffice.

The man gathers you up into his arms and slides beneath you, holding you atop his chest like he always does. He's careful not to wake you as he settles in to call it a night.

There's a faint shutter as he holds the device up in the air and takes a picture of the both of you, with your body curled up against his and his arm around your waist.

He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "Goodnight, pretty."

("When did you take this?!"

"You don't like it?" He asks you nonchalantly, eyes busy with reading the morning Steambird.

"I didn't say that," you grumble, flustered at how he's holding you in the image. Did he always hold you so close? So protectively?

Wriothesley smiles at you with his lips on the rim of his mug. "You snore, by the way."

"Shut up!")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

Model references for

Wriothesley - Genshin Impact

ೃ⁀➷ YOU LOOKIN'? ★

pair. wriothesley x reader. nsfw content ahead

cw: afab!reader but no pronouns used. cockwarming, established relationships, biting, needy wriothesley ... i think that's all but let me know if i missed anything that needs a warning ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡

Wriothesley has poor self-control. When it comes to you, at least. It's a fact of life— something that you've always known even before you were married. It has its perks.

"Eyes over here."

You know he meant to sound demanding, but the choke in his voice betrays him. He's buried so deep into you right now, cock sheathed entirely into your walls with no intention of retreating. It's knocking the breath from your lungs.

"Baby," you croon sweetly, head thrown back onto his shoulder. Your eyes are boring into his, wet and messy from the tears of your previous orgasm. The sight only makes his dick throb inside of you.

It was his idea to have you cockwarm him in the first place. It was his curiosity that got the better of him. It was his fault that he came home in such a sour mood and immediately threw himself into your arms, all needy kisses and bites.

So why is he the one not in control?

His jaw is clenched so tight that he can feel it getting sore, fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips to keep you steady. He needs you to be steady lest he blow his load pathetically early.

You whine in what he can only imagine is partly protest, partly pleasure, and then he presses a kiss to the spot just below your ear that makes you nearly scurry away from him.

"I told you to fucking look at me," he rasps when you squirm in your spot.

It's a futile attempt to escape his teasing; with his knees spreading yours further apart and your back against his chest, you're completely caged up and at his mercy.

His fingers find your chin and tug your head back to his shoulder so that he can watch you blink up at him with trembling lips. It makes it too hard for him to restrain himself when you look so pretty all spread out like this.

A low hum of satisfaction escapes him when one of his hands trails down between your legs to your embarrassingly exposed cunt, already sopping from his previous abuse. Wriothesley can't help it— his thumb pressing slow, languid circles into your clit the way he's done a hundred times before, like second nature to give in to you.

Your back curls against his chest and he squeezes your flesh harder to still your movements, hissing at the grind of your pussy up and down his length in response to his touch.

"Please," you breathe out when he kisses the wet spot of saliva gathering in the corner of your lip, "I need you to move."

"I move when I decide to move," he grunts despite the way his sanity is slipping with each passing second.

But then your eyes meet his again, expression so flustered and fucked out that his cock aches to feel every squeeze of your pussy around him, and he breaks.

You've always had this sick and twisted sort of spell cast on him. He's so easily enchanted by the little noises you squeak out and the way tears gather at your lashes with even the slightest of movements.

You bewitched him. A siren's call.

"Shit," he groans, hips snapping up into you so suddenly and roughly that you squeal in surprise. "Screw that."

His teeth sink into your shoulder so sharp you know he's leaving a mark of some sort. The flat of his tongue smooths the spot over as he pants against you, finally throwing all inhibition to the wind and deciding that, fuck it, you feel too good for him to just stay stagnant.

"Be good for me, yeah?" He mutters out through grit teeth, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. His hand finds your throat and pulls you back so he can meet your eyes again. And from this angle, he can also see the sinking of his painfully hard dick into your cunt with every bullying thrust. Just the sight of the gleaming ring of arousal around the base of his cock nearly makes him cum. "Be good and I'll treat you real nice," he promises.

Wriothesley has poor self-control, but at the end of the day, he always knows how to make it up to you.

© SINRINN 2023 — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my work to other platforms.‏‏‏‏‎‏‏‎

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

short drabble !! / wrio x reader // no y/n, just used ' you ' // no caps lock n stuff

my first time writing and posting something .. maybe one day, my 37 blade smuts will see the light of the surface.

also um . bc this is my first ever post i would not mind some help on how to format my posts HAHAH aaa (help)

"nooo… wrio… don't do this.."

your sobs echoed in the bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around wriothesley's legs. if anyone were to overhear your cries, they'd probably think the worst.. an argument? physical fight? torture? no, in truth what was going on in the bathroom was much worse ...

"you're being dramatic. it's just a small shave, not that much of a difference." wriothesley sighs, shaving off the last bit of stubble.

he grabs a towel and wipes the bottom half of his face clean before placing it down near the sink, tilting his face to the left and to the right as he inspects his shave. he looks down to you, still sobbing dramatically into his bare legs.

"how do i look?" he asks, flashing you a lady-killer smirk. you look up at him. your cheeks are red and you have to blink a couple of times before you can even see him properly through the tears in your eyes.

..

"like the devil!" you cry.

"what—hey! it's not that bad, i look fine — great, even!" he defends. he leans down and wraps his hands around your arms, picking you up and letting you slump against him.

"it was the best part of you…" you sob, muffled against his shoulder.

"wow. really? not even my killer muscles? my good looks? my amazing personality?" he asks, arms wrapping around your shoulders and pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"what personality? what good looks?" you say, arms returning his hug as you smile into his neck.

".. you didn't say anything about the muscles, am i safe there?"

"yeah, i dunno how much damage your ego can take."

Wriothesley Headcanons n$4w vers

notes: i need readers to please go into this believing bro is 35 years of age MINIMUM. or u won't get my VISION. also, my tags are messy bc it's my first time posting my writing on tumblr so just pretend ik how to tag my writing.

warnings: n$4w obvs, 1k words, untitled sentences for the aesthetic, semi-lit, i do use apostrophes, shortened words/abbreviations, i want him in a muzzle so that's mentioned, inappropriate use of handcuffs, i mention he gets rough, i write him as a sweetie pie lowkey tho, tbh it’s a little vanilla, i made a joke abt being ford tough and i feel that warrants a warning, biting, pet name ‘doll’ used, (brief mention) ass slapping , (brief mention) hair pulling, i call him a teddy bear a couple times, (mentioned) slight manhandling, i get a little too into imaging him subby, oops, i also get a bit caught up in soft dom wriothesley,

now playing |◁ II ▷| ‘doin time’ by sublime

methinks he's defff vers/switch but will fully let a partner take over or will take control himself. i don't believe he's picky in this department for a moment. i think he might prefer dom however his dom side has limits.

i bet he's sooo vocal. letting every little grunt and moan out. word vomits too. whatever he’s thinking, his partner will hear it.

big softie. idc. he is a SWEET MAN. 'love should be warm' headass.

so many pet names for his partner. doll, baby, baby-doll, babe, sweetheart, hon/honey. but doll or sweetheart r his faves.

using his title in bed makes him melt.

like i don't think he's malicious in bed. like truly. he seems teddy-bearish to me but i could be looking thru rose colored glasses i must say.

he's def a bit rough tho but i think it'd be in a playful way. there is times he’d get too into the moment and grab on a bit too tight to a thigh or the hair he's running a hand thru or snap his hips a little too hard but he doesn't mean to and will apologize immediately and try to make it up to a partner or even stop mid-session to make sure the other party is alright.

not opposed to using the cuffs if a partner asks. on him or his partner. but he needs enthusiastic consent before or he won't do it.

i do think he’s actually rlly good abt asking for consent to do things tho. but he does it in a way that it feels like part of sex and not just asking for permission ‘you like that?’, ‘you wanna keep going, doll?’ ‘wanna keep taking me?’ but he will make said doll use their words or he won’t keep going. mans is a whore for hearing a partner beg or ask him to do something and he's not above it either.

he seems like the type to wanna hold hands while going at it. like if his hands can reach his partners they are intertwined or at least touching. a pinkie wrapped around the other at the very least. he feels closer and just… better with it

y'all know the shirt that says 'warning this bitch bites' he needs it. will leave marks that last for days and absolutely loves if a partner does it too. but he does feel a bit guilty after especially if it's a hard bite so will pepper kisses on them after.

seeing his bite marks on a partner drives him crazy tho. like, makes him stop in his tracks and wakes up smth in him like a sleeper agent.

kisses thru-out the ordeal soz u can pry this from my cold dead hands. he feels a little guilty if he isn't kissing a hand, a clavicle or any piece of skin he can delicately place a smooch on occasionally when he's not biting ofc.

additionally: my brain has been occasionally FOGGED w thoughts of him in a muzzle. i'm drooling rn actually. i think he'd have a love-hate relationship with it since he wouldn't be able to kiss or bite a partner but he absolutely bends at a partner’s will when they tug on the bars and that's the best part for him

honestly i don't think he'd be comfortable going much harder than what i've mentioned. maybe he'd allow a few slaps on the ass but idk just seems out of character imo. being rough and tumble is for work and the ring and i think he'd keep it that way.

i did say he's a switch/vers so it's time to talk abt both sides of the coin :))))

when he's in a particularly subby mood; he's pathetic. a complete mess of a man.

its so satisfying to see a guy so high in power just groveling to someone.

i bet he looks at a partner w the biggest puppy dog eyes, mumling the softest and breathiest pleases, his hair all tousled and falling over his face. he thinks he's willing to do anything a partner orders him to do atp.

especially interested in peppering kisses on a partner when he's in this mood. nuzzling and sighing as he wraps his arms around his partner and smooches.

this is the time he is very much not opposed to the handcuffs on him.

i think he'd asked to be praised or called a good boy on these nights. i don't make the rules.

this is when he gets vocal. whimpering included too.

but the facade almost immediately drops when aftercare starts.

on the topic of a dom wriothesley; honestly i dont see him getting into the rough dom role but staying more of a soft dom and being very comfortable there.

that is where the word vomit happens, talking a partner through it all when he's in this mood, telling them how good they feel, they're being so good, or to quiet down despite being a bit noisy himself but that's what his biting is for.

moaning into every bite. teeth marks and hickeys covering a partner the next morning leading to that system overload i touched on earlier.

willing to try more positions when he's in this mood fs but he truly believes you cant go wrong w the classics. *cough cough* missionary

this is when he gets real into it and loses himself in the moment like i mentioned earlier. hips bucking and hands reaching to hold onto a partner like they'll escape.

he gets a little bit rougher but its still not in a mean way more in a 'oh yeah? watch this.' type way. pulling a partner closer of man handling them to hold their hips in a better position.

occasionally those pet names get a very adamant 'my' in front of them.

i think this is when his most comfortable area of aftercare comes in but not before one last thing.

he'd like to stay holding a partner for a bit afterwards, letting everyone regain their bearings before hopping into aftercare mode if he was the one in control.

aftercare on top tho. tea, running a bath, helping a partner bathe if they so want, helping a partner get dressed if they're super sore, massages, just all out pampering, especially if he gets a little rough.

he equally enjoys reciving aftercare but is hesitant bc he says he's fine or he's built tough. BUILT FORD TOUGH. sorry idk where that came from and he is but the guy needs to let a partner take care of him sometimes.

the 'love is supposed to be warm' line weighs heavy on me if u cant tell. he's just a teddy bear :(( ugh i'll sob.

la fin !

end notes: tysm for reading the ravings of a madman !! i've had so many random ass thoughts abt him since playing the story quests lmfao and i wanted to get out of my fluffy/horror writing comfort zone so i wrote basically what i think he's like in bed jsjsjs. i may be posting some stuff on boothill from honkai star rail but it'll probably be more rambling just about robotics and prosthesis for now if i post. if i don't post that i'm wrapping up a wriolette fic soon and that will be up here or on my ao3 under the same user !! till next timeee