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silkjade · 5 months

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WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ a/n: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.”

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor?

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders.

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips.

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist.

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust.

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity.

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips.

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting.

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips.

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance.

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked.

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress.

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom.

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed.

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp.

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts.

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh.

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile.

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..”

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark.

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls.

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight.

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb.

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.”

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles.

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source.

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place.

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy.

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more?

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand.

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips.

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire.

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.”

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size.

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round.

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips.

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin.

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst.

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts.

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure.

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars.

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering…

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone.

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything.

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life.

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.”

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart.

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed.

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again.

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven.

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him.

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him.

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing.

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more.

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is.

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting.

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over.

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.”

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...”

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure.

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself.

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused.

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.”

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please.

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers.

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name.

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette.

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless.

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.”

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his.

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention. Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming.

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does.

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly.

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.”

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about.

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm.

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth.

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white.

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable.

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face.

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.”

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

a/n2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #tw monsterfucking

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hwaitham · 7 months

Text

𝓯𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ‎

wriothesley x sub!f!reader . nsfw — mdni . rewrite + repost from old blog ﾉ established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ breeding ﾉ oral [ m -> f ] ﾉ dirty talkin' ooo finger suckin' ooooo (๑ ˃̵͈́ᵕ˂̵͈̀ ) ﾉ infantilization + mindbreak ﾉ praise ﾉ lotsa petnames [ babydoll + little girl + princess + sweetheart + baby ] ﾉ sappie wuvie dovie sex bcos ! ! well :3 it's me !

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now— three hours after the stronghold’s annual boxing spectacle, two hours after champagne showers, one hour after all the prisoners and gardes have made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now, nearly— it’s pitch black, nearly, save for the warm yellow flickers of the half-functioning light fixture hanging above the ring’s canvas, the image it casts on the rusty steel walls of two bodies pressed together.

a dancing shadow of your back curling into a perfect arch off the floor, the tilts and turns of wriothesley’s head as he fervently suckles on your clit with alcohol-stained lips, the heels of your frilly-socked feet digging further into his shoulder blades, toes wriggling within the lavender fabric.

“daddy—!”

“pussy tastes so good—”

“pleasepleaseplease— won’t last if you keep— h-huuughh…”

“so fuckin’ sweet— shit, babydoll.”

it’s not like your lover to dirty talk you like this— obscenely and unabashedly and so greedily— licking and sucking and slurping and huffing, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs, past the white stockings he’s fortuitously torn off your legs where he now leaves little mauve moons upon your skin.

your lover is usually all grunts and groans and whines that get tangled in his throat— but you adore it when he gets like this. you adore it when he gets all touchy and clingy and desperate for your love after he’s knocked back a couple drinks, you adore the carnivorous growl in his voice when he tells you, fuck, princess, need you so bad, you adore the shower of praise and kisses and bold touches where his heart lies in his fingertips and he smudges lines of pink and red all over your flesh.

“pretty little pussy’s all mine… look at you, sweet thing practically drooling for daddy, yeah?” wriothesley moans, speaking more to your cunt instead of you, and pulls away, slick strung in a thin ribbon that connects his lip to the pearl of your clit. he watches how your hole twitches and clamps around air as it searches for something that only he can give you— hungry and ready with how much of your sticky cream oozes from it and drips down the globe of your ass, soaks the silk of his scarlet boxing robe that you lay atop of.

and your daddy’s right— it is practically drooling, so pathetically leaking for him.

“fuckin’ gorgeous.”

a glob of saliva builds under his tongue at the sight, and he gathers it in the purse of his lips before spitting it out onto your pussy, watching the frothy bubbles cling to your skin, laughing lowly when you begin to whimper and writhe beneath him, knead biscuits on his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

“daddy, ‘s embarrassing when you look, o-oh—!” your protests are shushed when he collects the stringy mixture of his spit and your slick from your pussy and moves back up to meet your lips, kiss you messily.

“ah, ah, ahhh… don’t get all shy on m’now, sweetheart.”

the peach champagne on his tongue hits you after the sugary saltiness of your release, and evidently, you realize he must be drunk by the slur of his words, the greedy paws that cup your pussy, and then grab at your hips, your waist, your breasts.

a sharp glint of bright white has one of your eyes squeezing shut when wriothesley shifts to look down at you, his smile nothing short of beguiling. his frame is wide— broad shoulders and a strapping chest and sinewy arms that you’re caged under, the gold of the medal hanging loosely off his veiny neck reflecting the light from above.

and, oh, wriothesley thinks you look so pretty when the heavy metal thuds against your cheek amidst his soft swaying— he thinks you’ll look even prettier with his victory wrapped around your neck, because what’s his is yours, yours is his; you belong to him and he belongs to you.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bringing the gold up to his lips, he places a sweet kiss on it, lowering the medal back down to you so you can place another one right on top of his, baritone voice losing it’s primal growl and replaced with something more silky, loving. “fuck, couldn’t have won this without you.”

your fingers scrabble at one of wriothesley’s hands, holding it tight to your chest— to your heart— because you think the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough to have you losing balance and falling into an abyssal love. but that’s okay, that’s where you belong, deep, drowning in it, because you love him, you love him, you love him.

“love you, i love you, daddy— so, so much; love you forever…”

and the fortress’ duke thinks you just might kill him, with that admission.

with that milky, fuzzy, adoring look in your eyes, and how you press his palm to your heart, serve him your entire soul on a diamond-embedded platter— it cuts into his chest and carves deep into his flesh. your words are flames, and they are but dew on his skin, soothing and healing.

something knots in his throat; and all of a sudden he feels overwhelmed— by the rush of alcohol in his blood, by how sweet you’re being for him, by the painful ache of his leaky cock as he slides the length up and down your folds, each of his movements decorated by a tiny whimper that’s pried from your throat.

“fuuuuck, haha— love your daddy that much, huh? well, i love you, princess. love you even after forever.” wriothesley hunches over so close to you, cupping your cheeks with such delicate care— as if you’re crafted from the finest porcelain— before he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, shoving an eternity’s worth of promises and secrets down into your lungs.

he pulls back shortly thereafter to admire your kiss-swollen lips, wiping the pearls that dew at your lashes from just how achingly painful your weeping cunt feels— from how awfully you need to have your daddy inside you.

“inside— nghhh, wanna feel you inside, wanna—”

“i know, i know, but can you be a big girl ‘nd wait a little longer? can y’do that for daddy?” he shushes you with a sweet coo and prod of his thumb at the swell of your bottom lip, gathering the drool that sits there, before you obediently take the digit into your mouth. his cock jumps against your clit and wriothesley doesn’t realize that his mouth has been watering at the show you’ve been putting on for him until a drop of spit lands on your shoulder— your smaller fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist to hold his hand in place, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb, licking the tip repeatedly and hollowing your cheeks, giving his thumb the same attention and care you would his cock.

“a-awhhh, shit— you’re such a good girl, mhm?”

your hips grind up mindlessly against your lover’s cock at his praise and your mind fogs up in submission, taking the digit deeper, deeper, suckling and licking until you’re drivelling spit down your chin, giggling stupidly and coating his heart in fondant. “mhmmm, hehe—! wanna be your good girl, daddy…”

“yeah? archons, you’re so cute,” he chuckles with you, shaking his head at how you’ve already gone featherbrained from so much as a mere suckle of his finger, pinching your cheek softly within his thumb and forefinger. “gonna put it in now, ‘kay? gonna give you your cock ‘nd you’re gonna take it; like my good little girl.”

with his free hand, he holds the heavy weight of his cock in the palm, tapping it over your clit and thumbing at his slit to coax more pre out from it, using the glossy cream to lubricate you further as he slowly pushes his aching, flushed tip past the tight ring of muscle lining your entrance. there’s a lewd, wet pop that follows when he gets his bulbous head settled in between your sticky walls, and he can’t suppress the noise— something in between a groan and laugh— that escapes him.

“fuuuck me, y’hear that?” squelch, squelch, squelch. “haha, that’s my liquid luck.”

“uh huh, ‘s yours, daddy— ‘s all yours, i’m all youuurs,” your voice comes out as a sweet, broken keen, one that dizzies wriothesley and has blood flooding his cock.

“a-ah, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear…” his breathing picks up as he shallowly thrusts himself deeper into your cunt— it hugs him like a vice— like it loves him, his cock, like it wants to milk it dry.

and without warning, he sinks fully inside of you until he’s buried deep in your sopping cunt— it’s a perfect fit. where his oozing tip is pressed up snugly against your cervix, every ridge and vein hitting all the right spots that line your walls.

you drawl out a pitchy whine of his designation at the sudden split of his cock, hiccuping on your breath as he leans his whole weight on you and pushes your thighs back to meet your chest until the backs of your knees land on his shoulders, hips gyrating to grind his pubic bone down on your puffy bud. it soothes the sharp tremors of pain ripping through your core, washing them over with waves of pleasure, and you can only arch your chest up into his almost instinctually, fingers finding his face to trace sloppy stars over high-set cheekbones.

“daddy, daddyyyy, i wanna k-kiss…”

your boyfriend smiles adoringly in response, not ignoring the heavy throbs and twitches of his cock within your drooling cunt at how fucking stunning you look underneath him: pouty and glassy-eyed as you weakly tug him closer by the lanyard of his medal, all ditsy and limbs pliable like the sweet little baby doll of his that you are, head near empty with nothing but daddy, daddy, daddy on your brain.

wriothesley finds himself unable to do anything but indulge your desperation, brushing his lips against yours softly— once, twice, until he feels your velvety breath settle in his lungs, and then he’s left craving more.

“ohhh, baby, so tight.” his hips begin to rock against yours, and with each drag of his fat cock along your gummy walls, a hot knot begins to boil in the pit of your stomach.

your lips break free from wriothesley’s when his thumb finds your clit, feeling him trace his name over the sensitive nub, gazing up at him through your dumbed out doe eyes, tongue caught in between your teeth in a dreamy little smile. because he looks so handsome like this, so, so gorgeous with raven and sleet slicked back by his fingers and the small strands that bounce and fall and curl around the pinch of his brows— it’s like he’s made of stardust and moonshine and tufts of clouds from the celestial skies.

“you won me this gold medal, what d’you wan’ in return? a ring? fuck— i’d give you the whole universe if you asked. put the fuckin’ oceans in the sky for you.”

an erotic mewl escapes you from how romantic he’s being and you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize the effect his champagne-kissed words have on you— your toes curl and hips grind up mindlessly into his, pussy throbbing on his cock when your clit brushes against the cream-frosted hairs at the base.

the hard clamp of your walls peels a low groan from him, head hanging low and medal gently slapping your cheek with each slow, deep stroke, “s-shit, you like that, huh? tell me what you want, sweetheart—"

“want your cum— want it inside— in here,” you cut him off with needy babbles as you bring his palms to your tummy, laying them gently over the love bites that scatter your flesh likes the stars scatter the night sky— an eternal reminder that you’re his. “please, pretty pleaseee— wanna make you a papa— mhnn!”

and then he’s plunging into you deeper than ever before, cutting your words short, breaking them off into pitchy little pants as he presses his crotch flush against your messy, web-coated folds and swirls the tip of his dick deliciously over that one spongy spot where you’ve been needing to feel him the most.

“awh, you wanna make me a daddy? but i already am one, aren’t i?” he teases, runs his knuckles under your jaw and tugs on the plump of your lip with his teeth.

flustered by his words, you whine, shake your head petulantly and try to hide your face from him with the back of your hand. squeeze your eyes shut bashfully. melt his heart into icing and frost cupcakes with it. “nuh uhhh, you know ’s not what i mean…”

it’s staggering— how adorable you’re being for him, with your sweet pleas and darling little whines, he can’t help but huff out a growl through gritted teeth before leaning down to gather your lips in a kiss; it’s filled with so much love and so much fervour when he swallows your pretty cries with his tongue in your mouth and, fuck, he’s certain that even the mere thought of stuffing you full of his seed is enough to bring him down to his knees.

“perfect— you’re my perfect little doll, yeah? gonna make you a mother, gonna make you my wife, gonna make you the happiest girl alive.”

and it’s all so much, too much, the thumb he has pressed flat against your tongue to pacify your sobs, the promises he washes your tears away with, the sound of gold thudding harshly against the canvas of the floor when he thrusts into you at a different angle— one that has the tip of his cock knocking at the sponge of your cervix in a way where your hips rock up into his own. “daddydaddydaddy, please, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cuuuum—!”

“my sweet girl’s already fucked silly? got nothin’ but cock on your little brain, uh huh?”

“uh huh, uh huhhhh— wan’ daddy’s cock, wan’ daddy’s cum, wanna— mmph!”

your mindless babbling pulls a harsh guttural noise deep from wriothesley’s stomach, his vision doubling at the shaky lilt to your voice, at the manicured nails that dig into his biceps and claw red wings there— an eternal reminder that he’s yours. “oh, baby, that’s it, there you go— c’mon, be a big girl and cum all over my cock.”

“n-no! nonono, wanna cum with youuu—” you cut him off with a sharp keen, wailing out when you feel him start to thrust harder, faster, pearls of your slick and his pre spluttering out to fall as dewdrops on your thighs. doing your best to wrap your arms around his neck amidst the jostles of your body, you pull wriothesley in closer, closer, until his lips meet yours and there’s no space for air between the two of you.

he can’t help but crumble to ashes as you weep into the kiss, as you cling to him— it’s heart-wrenchingly cute how badly you need him. your slurred whimpers of, daddy, daddy please cum— wan’ it in me f’ever, remind him of just how much he loves you, so much, it reminds him that he is the only one for you in this timeline and every other, he is the only one that can ever make you feel this way— and, fuck, it fills him with a rush that he’s certain he’ll never find in anything else. the knot of fire that treads up his spine coils tighter on itself at the sound of your pitchy breaths and pathetic whines.

it brings wriothesley to the heavens, and soon enough, he’s prattling on and tripping over his words just as you had been, drooling drivelling from his lips like a fucking dog.

“shiiit, all those pretty fuckin’ sounds you make, h-hah, gonna make me cum, baby— you want that? wanna make daddy cum? want his seed so deep inside ya? yeah, ohhh, i know you do, c’mon then, milk this fuckin’ cock, ’s all yours.”

and so, you moan and whimper and cry out for your daddy, goaded by his words and his cock moulding your cunt to the shape of him, toes curling and tapping helplessly over his shoulder, your orgasm flying through you from head to toe. “fuck, fuck fuck, daddy— ‘m cum’ng— cummiiiing, daddyyy—!”

it’s nothing short of endearing, how you clutch at the nape of his neck and whimper in the junction of his neck, little incoherent mumbles falling onto deaf ears. because when you cum, wriothesley cums too, seeing white, a strangled whine ripping from his throat when tiny squirts push past your hole where the creamy base of his cock sticks to your cunt and thick ribbons of his milk paint the walls of your womb.

your heart dances with wriothesley’s when they meet on the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing against yours with so much delicate care and a boyish chuckle pushing past him when your hips swirl in cute little motions to catch your clit on his pubic bone, grinding up and chasing his cock to keep it plugging you full. “wrio.”

it comes out as a sniffle, and he can’t help but blush at the small pout you send his way.

“yeah, princess?” he moves back to pull out of you, but your legs slip down from his shoulders in between his arms to wrap around his waist, ensuring his full length is kept inside your stuffed hole.

“if you move it’ll all leak out,” you whine, pitchy and puerile, “don’t want it to— wan’ it to stay in me forever and ever…”

his seed as a sliver of him in your tummy, a sliver of his love kept in your body until the end of time— his head falls forward into your neck where he can only bring himself to huff out an endearing laugh and repeat your words, “forever ‘nd ever, huh…?”

“mhm… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd even after that.”

you tug on the medal’s lanyard to prompt him to meet your gaze, absolutely cockdrunk and bambi-eyed with your bottom lip tugged coyly into your top teeth— wriothesley knows that look well, you cheeky little minx; and you giggle when you clamp down around him once more, coaxing another tiny rope of milk from his slit, evident by a sharp moan that escapes him mid-breath.

“you’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

he's dizzy— either from all the alcohol or the intensity of his high or a mix of both, but he still manages to bar you to his chest with two steady hands against your back and raise you both so that you’re sitting upright on the floor, and you cry out at the shift in position, at how his cock is nestled so incredibly deep inside that you swear you can feel him piercing your womb.

and it’s a sound that so sweet, so tooth-rottingly sweet, because wriothesley can’t help but mutter out small proclamations of his love as he lays them all over your face, can’t help the excruciating ache in his limbs and muscles and the uncomfortable twist and turn of his organs because, archons, he loves you.

“gold looks good on you, wrio,” you whisper, cheeks burning with warmth and popping like corn from how wide your smile is, from the accidental tickle of his fleeting touches.

you’re floating— high on his love, floating higher, higher, until you’re swimming in the oceans he put in the sky for you, the waterfalls up in the clouds.

the loss of his touch brings you back down to earth— his fingers are sticky, sweet and salty with drying champagne and a mix of your releases, but he could care less when he removes the medal from his neck and hangs it around yours, carefully laying the gold flat on your sternum, right above your heart.

and maybe he jumps the gun a little when he rubs your ring finger and searches for something that’s not there— his soul fanning across your face in sweet breaths when he starts thinking about white picket fences and a little angel with his hair, your eyes, his nose, your smile— the most beautiful blessing of all.

“well, i think it looks better on you.”

do u evr hate a character so much you wnt to write the most unabashedly horny smut for them . bcos i do ♡ anw hehe :3 tusm for readin ! ! ‎٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope u liked dis n' it made u just as flustered as i felt when writing ⭐️ pls consider commenting ﾉ reblogging if u enjoyed aaa ( =v= ) it wld make mi so happie yayayayyy ! !

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin thirsts #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin imagines #tw daddy kink #tw infantilization #tw mindbreak

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