This is a selfship blog for the most part but not exclusively. If something I like involves self inserts/ oc x canon/dating sims in any way, I prefer to post it here instead of my main.
Mostly reblogs. Can't follow back due to being a sideblog.
Fandoms: Genshin Impact & TOUCHSTARVED
Main F/Os: Illuga (nonsharing) & Aether (hypersharing)
Other characters that I simp for: Lohen, Ga Ming, Lumine, Kuras, Mhin, Vere
doubles/shippers are OK to interact, but I'll likely block if your posts about your yumeship bother me.
Don't repost anything I draw or write please.
dni: minors, anti selfship, anti queer headcanons, people who condone harassment (death threats, etc) over art and/or fanfiction
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when you take off your wedding ring during an argument [genshin men pt.2]
⋗ ft. cyno, flins, illuga, lohen, neuvillette, tighnari, wriothesley
⋗ ~0.6k | fluffy angst | gn!reader
Cyno
He’s so lucky he only came when he did, only when your anger simmered down slightly without him getting caught in the worst of it. Or so you thought until he managed to fan the flames again. If you were more sane, you might’ve considered he probably had no idea and it was purely coincidental that his particular choices pushed all your buttons.
You watch with half sick satisfaction, half heartbreaking sadness, as his face twists in surprise and hurt when you start pulling the ring off your finger.
“Hey,” his voice wavers, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on.”
It ticks you off more, though you didn’t think it was possible.
“Cyno, I can’t-”
“Not in front of the children,” he says, straight faced. His arms are outstretched as if he really meant to cover the eyes of the flowers blooming in the pots by the wall. Various rare desert flowers that he brought you as seeds, that you’ve grown and raised to their beautiful blooming selves despite the odds. You both did occasionally refer to them as your children, simply because caring for them was a labour of love.
Now, his words are so absurd that you can’t help but laugh through the swirling frustration. The ring stays on your finger because you don’t even have the strength to remove it.
Cyno chuckles too, carefully putting his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the house. You can’t protest, still laughing, as if that was the outlet for your emotions that you needed - too proud and fired up to cry instead. Or maybe it was the cool night air, quenching the fire in your lungs and chilling your heated skin.
“Better?” he asks. You realize he’s patting your back.
“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “Better.”
“Now, wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks, and honestly he’d be right to sound more irritated than he does. Because he just sounds confused and concerned instead of angry.
“I was pissed off,” you admit, “And then you came and started talking about everything that already set me off earlier - and I still haven’t figured anything out. And then you argued back and- yeah.”
“Ah, I see,” he hums as he sits down, patting the space next to him for you to join him. You do. “You know you have a mouth, and you can tell me to shut up instead of starting a fight.”
Some part of you is set ablaze again, but you’ve run out of fuel.
“I know,” you sigh. You sway, drained both physically and emotionally, and lay your head on his shoulder. He just exhales with fond exasperation and leans his head against yours. Your feet dig into the cooling sand.
“Never take off your ring again,” he tells, orders, you, “Not even when showering. You’ve lost your privileges.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” you chuckle. He nudges your side with his elbow. “And I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven - for now. Just tell me if something’s bothering you next time,” he chides again, “We’ve made a sacred promise to each other. Don’t break it.”
Your hand settles atop his thigh, soon covered by his palm. The night is slowly growing chilly, but with your body pressed into his side it’s just what you need to let the tension uncoil where it lies waiting inside your body. And slowly you begin to talk as you should’ve done in the first place.
Cyno listens, he asks and leads when you’re getting too worked up and tangled in your own words. Like he promised, you figure it out together. And at the end of the day, when you finally doze off against his shoulder, he picks you up and carries you inside.
Flins
His words die in his throat, he raises his hand as if to stop you, but you’re too far to reach. Physically, at least, he hopes that the feeling of disconnect and distance between your hearts is only an illusion created by the argument that spiraled out of control.
“Please,” he says, voice quiet and calm, “Don’t leave me. Not you.”
You, too, stop. Fingers brush the ring on your finger as you consider what you were about to do. Flins comes closer, slowly, then circles his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You let him, your resolve to keep arguing your point broken upon hearing his voice.
“That’s not fair,” he murmurs into your hair, “That’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”
You nod weakly, finally letting your arms fall and wrap around his shoulders too. He doesn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon, and you’re grateful. It doesn’t fix anything, not the sadness radiating off of him, not the mournful silence that settled over the room. Still, for now, to feel his chest expand and press against yours, your breaths syncing, feels healing.
“I’m sorry, Kyryll,” you whisper, turning your face towards his, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”
“There was a time where I’d assume you are leaving me,” he confesses in a low voice, “Nothing would persuade me that you are not.”
You know it well. You’ve been there, after all, every step of the way - from how wary he was about getting close to you, then to at least being open to the idea but still reluctant, knowing he might not see you for weeks or months, all at the whim of the headquarters. But you never meant to stop him, accepting of the fact that duty comes first. And though you’ve pushed through the obstacles, you know well that arguments still take a toll on him, knowing he could be called to leave for a long time at any moment, even before you can make up.
“Let’s sleep on it, alright? We can talk over breakfast,” you suggest, “Or just shelf the argument. It’s not worth… this.”
“Can we do that?” he asks, unsure, “Is that allowed?”
You chuckle, and you think he must smile too, only briefly - the same way he only squeezes you tighter for a moment.
“We make the rules, don’t we?” you think aloud.
“Then I suggest we make it a rule neither of us tries to take off our ring unless our life depends on it,” he pulls away, looking at you with a strangely serious expression that you didn’t expect, “I declare it a rule. As a compensation for what you’ve done.”
You smile, a little relieved.
“Of course,” you agree, “So you forgive me? I promise I’ll obey your new rule perfectly.”
He makes a thoughtful sound.
“Maybe I should confiscate it until I’m sure you’ve learned how to behave,” Flins considers, leaning against you with his full body weight as if lost deep in thought. You struggle to keep both of you upright.
“People will talk,” you remind him gently, “If you need a public apology, I’m more than willing to give it to you without losing my ring and without being interrogated by every nosy old lady in our vicinity.”
He laughs into your hair but shakes his head. At least he can be reasonable. Finally he pulls away to look at you. The hurt on his face softened but its traces still linger. Somehow it feels reassuring that the centuries of his life have not stripped him of emotion, of care.
“I better hear what a wonderful husband you have next time they see me,” he smiles.
“I always tell them,” you promise, “No husband could compare.”
Illuga
“You don’t hurt people you love just because you get upset,” he whispers, yet somehow his voice sounds louder than it did the whole night.
You look down, at the back of your hand, at the ring halfway down your finger, and open your mouth before realizing you have no idea what to say. What can you say? When you look up, Illuga looks heartbroken. Angry, too. You see the nervous twitch of his hands, the buzzing, anxious whirlwind of energy inside of him. So it’s not a surprise when he storms out into the night with nothing but his coat and his lantern.
You sit down, the strength in your knees suddenly gone. Was it really worth it? You frown as you recount the events of the evening. Although you can’t say you’re being very efficient. Your mind stutters whenever you remember how calm he’s been through the whole thing, even though he must’ve been uncomfortable and upset too. You sigh. Hopefully he’ll return soon. As used to it as he is, as strong as he is, nothing is ever certain and the nights are long and dangerous. It hurts to remember how reverent Illuga acts whenever he has to leave on a mission, compared to the cold - although understandable - abandonment just now.
It’s infuriating that you can’t even follow after him - where would you start your search? No, it’s better to just wait, although you can’t seem to be able to just sit and do nothing. And even walking to the window is better than doing nothing at all. Walking? Running. You see a flash of light.
The flash is a glow of a lantern, circling, and you pace inside the house, running from window to window, one circle, second one, third - then you crack.
You barely open the door an inch before Illuga’s there, scowling at you. “What are you doing?”
“Please come inside,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have done that.”
He hesitates, but his shoulders drop, the lantern hangs by his side.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says.
“Thank you,” you whisper, taking a gamble and reaching for his hand. He lets you, smiling softly at the spark of light that bounces off the bands on your intertwined fingers. “If you need air, I can handle it if you stay like this. But I’d love it if we could talk inside.”
He follows after you, even if he slowly pulls his hand back as you reach the kitchen. It hurts, but you suppose it’s fair.
“I always think of you before every fight,” he confesses, nothing new, but it makes your heart ache, “Who would I return to if you left?”
“That’s not what- I’m sorry,” you sigh again. There’s a painful lump in your throat that you try to ignore.
“Just remember that if you ever feel like doing it again,” Illuga begs, quietly.
Of course you won’t. Finally he comes closer, if only because he puts some water on the stove to boil and needs to stand beside you to do so. He lingers even after the task is done, however. His fingers slowly intertwine with yours again despite the silence stretching on.
You don’t know what to say or do next, all you do is look nervously at him, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk either. So you just help him make the tea and sit down with him to drink it before you retire to bed, together, facing each other, even if no words are exchanged, even if all you do is hold hands. Illuga gives you a small squeeze, a reassurance he’ll be okay, eventually. That’s good enough for you.
Lohen
Your fingers only graze your ring. The briefest of touch of your fingertips against the band that you never manage to get a grip on.
Lohen’s already snatched your wrist and is dragging you towards his desk. You’re no match for his strength. He pulls you along like a ragdoll with no regard for your panicked gasp or nails clawing at his glove. In all honesty, you think for a second that it only excites him further.
He roughly shoves you against the desk, traps you between the surface and his body. His hand shoots out for something while his other holds the hand with your finger steady. Before you can collect yourself and resume protests, you feel the bite of a cold metal close around your skin. Your eyes fly towards what he’s doing. The device is familiar, you’ve seen it used before. You know it can cut through bone like a hot knife through butter.
“You’ve evened the odds,” you say, voice calmer than you feel.
It’s a lie, too. As much as you might value your finger, it’s not comparable to what he’d be losing.
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” he growls against your ear. His voice sounds frenzied, smirk loud in his every word. The blade doesn’t cut into your skin. Obviously he’s not being reckless.
“In part,” you hum. As if a bucket of cold water was poured over you, your earlier anger has all but dissipated.
“If I add sliiiightly more pressure you lose the finger-”
“And I’ll never take another husband,” you add with a small smile, “Yes.”
Utterly predictable. You feel him bristle. Naturally he wouldn’t say that, but what is Lohen if not a possessive lover?
“How could I after my first betrayed me in this way?” you continue, “After I was marked irreversibly for my mistake and yet still cast aside?”
Lohen falls silent. Calculating? Surely not. Poison might or might not still be coating his tongue, ready to lash out because after all, he’s been wronged. Perhaps more than you’ve been during your clash, perhaps less than you’re being slighted now.
“I was about to act on emotions, and it was a disappointing reaction,” you continue, “I apologize. In the heat of the moment I forgot certain rituals are sacred to you as well.”
For a long moment, you’re stuck at an impasse. Eventually, though, he deflates behind you, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder.
“You’re no fun,” he grumbles, “And the safety is on.”
Safety? He demonstrates - no matter how strong he pushes, you don’t lose the finger.
“You’re full of surprises,” you sigh, leaning back into him, “I never thought you’d have any use for measures like that.”
He giggles, kissing your cheek. His arms remain tightly wound around you. “I didn’t before. But I have since acquired a liability that needs to be taught a lesson sometimes.”
“Liability? Ouch,” you scoff.
He just shrugs. Though you suppose he’s not exactly wrong - it goes both ways, after all. Liability to each other with your actions, liability to each other due to your position. Even if you doubt anyone would believe they’d get under Lohen’s skin through you or stupid enough to try to threaten his wellbeing to get back at you.
“Next time, there will be no safety,” he warns suddenly. His voice dropped ten degrees since he last spoke. It sends a shiver down your spine.
“There will be no next time,” you promise, “Regardless of what you just said.”
“Good,” and he’s back to his cheerful self and pecks your cheek, “You learn quickly, that’s why you’re mine.”
You roll your eyes. You did know what you were getting into, though, so you suppose you have no right to complain anyway.
Neuvillette
And suddenly you could hear a pin drop. The world has stopped for a moment in your bedroom, yet it keeps turning without mercy.
Neuvillette’s eyes are wide, and it’s not just them - his entire body betrays how shaken he feels. His entire line of sight has narrowed to where your ring is held between your fingers instead of being worn on one of them.
“What does it mean?” he asks, his breathing trembling, voice quiet and unsteady, “What-”
He wants to take a step forward, it almost looks like he’ll fall forward but he doesn’t, instead he forces himself to stay in place. Although trembling, he chooses to stay as if the smallest of his actions might make you leave and leave the ring behind.
Watching him makes you forget your feelings, drained into nothingness. Your own hands start to shake, you, too, start to second guess yourself. More so when you take a step towards him and he draws back, as if he couldn’t fathom anything but a catastrophic scenario.
“Love, it’s okay,” you whisper, trying to coax him into allowing you to approach him without fear. His eyes finally look up to search your face for something. The second, third, all the following steps are easier. By the time you’re within his reach, the ring is back on your finger, not like it changes anything.
“Why would you do that?” he asks, a pained whisper, “What did you want to say by it?”
You shake your head, slowly erasing the space between you, slotting yourself against his body, embracing him.
“I’m sorry, mon amour,” you murmur into his shoulder. His hands hover over your body without quite touching you. “I just got so upset I couldn’t think straight.”
Finally - contact. Like you’re the one who needs comfort, and you do - just not as much as the Iudex shivering in your arms.
“What happened?” he murmurs, “You’ve never done this. I thought we were just discussing an issue.”
You can only sigh fondly.
“This isn’t the court, Neuvillette,” you say, rubbing soothing circles on his back, “I need you to hear me out without evidence and without questioning me.”
“I didn’t realize I was upsetting you,” he admits as he pulls you closer, “Not to this extent.”
You know. The intricacies of intimate relationships are still a little lost on him, and that’s fine. That’s fine as long as you’re the one who goes briefly insane. You have no idea what you’d do to placate a dragon should he get stubborn.
“Did you want to leave? And,” he hesitates, his voice breaking, “Dissolve our marriage?”
“I didn’t,” you reassure him, but you can’t look into his eyes - not with how stubbornly he refuses to let you put distance between you.
“I can’t lose you,” he confesses quietly, “Scream at me. Be angry with me. Talk to me.”
You chuckle. You can’t help it. To make up for the slight, you hug him tighter.
“How could I leave? I’d get soaked,” you mumble. Biting your tongue before you can laugh again, you listen to the indignant sound he makes.
“How can you joke now?” he grumbles. Still holding you a prisoner in his arms, still squeezing you with every single of your movements.
“It’s alright,” you try to reassure him, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re not arguing anymore.”
He hums while clearly not listening much to your words. Maybe your fears were justified, maybe you did bring out the draconic stubbornness in him. Which is fine. It’s fine as long as he wants you to stay instead of insisting you leave.
Tighnari
“Okay - pause, pause,” Tighnari’s demeanor switches in an instant. The moment you see his ears flatten against his head and his tail frozen stiff behind him, you can’t help but feel guilty. You might’ve overreacted, just a little bit. “I see you, I hear you, let’s take a step back.”
He offers you a careful half-smile as he guides you to sit down. For now, he avoids touching you, even though you see the nervous twitch of his fingers, the urge to do so and reassure himself you’re okay. He kneels on the floor in front of you, offering his hands for you to take. You hesitate for a bit, but eventually sigh and slip your hands into his.
“There we go,” he murmurs, “What was it?”
“I don’t know,” you admit. Because you truly don’t. Maybe it was everything - the late hour, your empty stomach, him making sense, him breathing wrong, just a cocktail for disaster. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think this far ahead.”
He pats your knee.
“I’m sorry too, I pushed too hard,” he sighs, “Still, I’m glad you changed your mind.”
You look down at the ring on your finger and then raise your eyes back to meet his. Giving him a careful smile, you squeeze his hands. You shared the silence, both relieved that your home is back to how it’s supposed to be. Although, some of the tension still remains woven into your shoulders.
It was so rare, after all. Any kind of an argument with Tighnari, especially a heated one like this. You pull on his arm to make him get up and sit next to you, slipping easily into his hug when he sneaks an arm around your shoulders. He rocks you from side to side, gently, until your heartbeat finally settles.
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” you finally say, “I don’t think I felt myself taking the ring off at all.”
“I want you to know there’s plenty of sources I could get a really sticky resin from,” he hums, “Don’t make me glue it to your finger.”
You have no idea if his intention was to sound threatening, all you know is that if so, he failed miserably. But that’s also good. Your Tighnari is gentle, after all. Scary only whenever you’re in danger, never towards you.
“Did you mean that?” you ask, “When you said that thing about-”
“No,” he shakes his head, almost as if he doesn’t want to hear his words repeated to him, “I just got a little frustrated too.”
“Hmm, that’s a first,” you joke, “And last, I hope.”
Tighnari laughs too, his ears finally slowly relaxing and unsticking themselves from his skull. His tail lands in your lap like a warm blanket, like yet another appendage that’s supposed to stop you from leaving.
“But if that was your way of telling me you don’t like the ring-”
“Nari…” you groan, rolling your eyes when he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing again, “But if that’s your way of asking for a vow renewal, I’m not against it.”
“It wasn’t that big of a fight, was it?” he teases, but soon his smile softens, “We can do it - we should do it sometime in the future.”
You nod in agreement. It’s too soon now but just the thought of perhaps exchanging vows again, perhaps even adding another ring to seal those vows, makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. More than that, however, the thought of spending the years leading up to it with Tighnari, and years following after too.
“I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek.
“And I love you,” he returns the gesture.
The look in his eyes betrays him. He was thinking the same.
Wriothesley
“-oh come on, please don’t do that,” he groans, running his hands over his face. Still, he steps back, giving you the space you needed, that you asked for. He backs himself into the wall, sliding against it until he sits on the floor.
The room falls silent, safe for the sound of your breathing. You worry your lip between your teeth, allowing yourself time to calm down. Deep inhale, hold, deep exhale. A routine until you feel in control enough to not say anything you’d regret later.
“Wriothesley?” you call out to him. He still sits with his back against the wall, his face is still covered by his hands. “Baby? Look at me?”
“I’m not looking until you put the ring back on,” he says, and he couldn’t sound more like a kicked dog if he was one.
“How about you put it on me, hm?” you try as you sit down in front of him, nudging your knee against his.
Finally he lifts his head. You’ve never seen him more miserable than right now, looking at the ring in your palm. He takes your hand, brings it to his lips after picking up the ring and kisses your knuckles one by one. You can only sigh affectionately and run your hand through his hair.
It’s a quick, yet gentle affair, him putting the ring back on your finger. He keeps your other hand hostage, cradling it to his cheek.
“Just tell me next time,” he pleads, “Warn a guy. I don’t know, push me away if I don’t listen. Hit me.”
You sigh. You have a half a mind to take him up on that, just to shut him up before he can come up with any more stupid ideas.
“I’m not gonna hit you, Wriothesley,” you inform him, “But I would like it if you could listen when I tell you I need space.”
“You were about to leave,” he pouts again, “We promised to never walk away when we’re mad.”
“Yeah, that’s on me,” you admit.
“I should’ve listened anyway - we’re even?” he suggests, full of hope. You smile and nod.
“My offense was worse,” you tease, “I’m getting off lightly.”
“You know what, if you’re keeping that ring on your finger I think I can live with not putting you on trial,” Wriothesley leans closer and steals a kiss, “See how nice I am?”
“The nicest,” you roll your eyes.
He grins, finally more relaxed. Yet you’re not allowed to pull your hand back, still cupping his cheek. He holds your hand there like his life depends on it, contrary to his carefree smile. So you huff and put your hand on his other cheek too, leaning over him when he parts his knees to make space for you.
Icy blue eyes watch you, tempt you to get closer, flicking down to your lips as if you needed more hints. You kiss him slowly, thumbs stroking his cheeks while his hand cups the back of your neck and holds you close, your foreheads resting against each other.
“I’m already in jail for my crime,” you remind him playfully, “Your domain. They won’t let me go without your permission.”
He chuckles too, capturing your lips one more time. He rubs your noses together.
“Not how this works but I could change that,” another kiss, “I should, maybe.”
“There’s no life without you,” you shrug, but you make sure he knows you mean it, not looking away even when the intensity in his gaze threatens to burn you alive.
It’s true, after all. Your home is where Wriothesley is, and that is where your happiness lies.
He's quick to look up from the paperwork he had in hand at the sound of the door opening and closing. Anything to distract him from work, that and he knew those footsteps belonged to you from the moment he heard them.
"Lohen..."
"Oh? What's this? You look pretty tired there bun"
"Mm... Pillow..."
"Pillow?"
"Lap pillow... Wait no, that's not it..."
"No?"
Lohen watches you curiously, an eyebrow raised at the way you spoke. Maybe a little amused at how dazed you looked. You seemed pretty out of it. You must be really tired then. He supposed he could take a little break.
"Come here bun, sit with me"
He easily pulls you to the couch, ready to cuddle you or perhaps lend you his lap like you had mumbled just now but instead you shake your head. Telling him to lay on his stomach instead.
He's curious, but doesn't question you. He'll see himself what you were planning. Maybe you wanted to use him as a body pillow instead? You do enjoy leaning against his back at times. Saying something about how warm and comfy it felt...
But instead of your weight against his back, all he felt was pressure on his ass.
"..."
Let's say when Varka came back to check on Lohen, he wasn't expecting to see you sound asleep and using the vice captain's bum as a pillow. Now that was a first even for the Grandmaster.
"Not a word."
Illuga
His attention immediately shifted to you as soon as he heard you yawn. Watching as you rub your eye sleepily from reading. It was a slow afternoon, and you insisted on accompanying him while he did paperwork. Saying that you could catch up on the book you were reading while he did so.
He doesn't blame you, he too gets drowsy sometimes when it's a quiet afternoon. Perhaps a little nap won't hurt...
"My light? How about we take a break?"
"You sure?"
"Definitely... Make room for me?", he asked softly already walking towards where you sat comfortably on the sofa.
"Would you like to lay down together?"
His smile widens at your nod, but immediately turned confused when you stopped him.
"Actually...I've always wanted to try something"
"Please do tell love"
He wasn't sleepy anymore. Far from it even, all he could feel was the hot blush on his face going up to his ears, and perhaps down to his neck even. And the fact you had made yourself comfortable on using his...bum as a makeshift pillow.
"Mhm... I knew it, Illu's butt is definitely-"
"Please don't finish that sentence..."
"Oh? It seems I may have intruded on something..."
The pure mortified look on Illuga's face when he had seen Flins at the doorway, would've made you laugh if you had saw it.
"M-Mr Flins?!"
"Pardon me, I'll come back at a later time Young Master"
He can't even do anything but hide his tomato red face against the cushion and his arms.
(If he stood up he didn't want to risk you falling off the sofa, he's too sweet that way...)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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vere would insist he isn't jealous. He'd laugh, flash that infuriatingly pretty smile, and make some teasing comment about how you're free to talk to whoever you want.
this mf liar.
i don’t think he would mind if someone made a couple flirty comments towards you, but….
if anyone got too flirty with you, that’s another story
he won't interrupt immediately, i think he would perfer to collect information before acting.
instead of openly confronting the other person, he'll try to reclaim your attention.
if you're far away from him, he’ll smirk in your direction, try to beckon you with one finger or maybe blow you a quick kiss if he's feeling cheeky
if you’re close to him tho..
your shoulder’s empty? not anymore! suddenly you feel soft ears brushing against your face and an arm wrapping around your waist (ok dr seuss)
if they don’t get the hint, his smile would become sharper. he’ll talk circles around the person until they realize they’re unmatched and back down
if they don’t back down verse eating good that night
he truly hates how much it affects him. He prides himself on keeping his composure, but jealousy exposes something he'd rather keep buried. It reminds him that there are things beyond his control, and that feeling unsettles him far more than he'd ever admit.
his jealousy is more of a fear thing for him.
vere’s life hasn’t belonged to him in centuries, so having you in his life is. a luxury to him, so just the thought of losing you terrifies him. he doesn't think he deserves the kind of affection you give him. every time you choose him, some part of him quietly waits for the day you'll change your mind. so when someone else catches your eye, even innocently, he believes it might be the end of your relationship.
but we all know vere’s stubborn ass will never tell you that.
instead, he becomes a little quieter afterward. More attentive. He'll remember your favorite drink without asking, brush imaginary lint from your sleeve, linger beside you longer than usual. They're small, almost subconscious ways of reassuring himself that you're still there.
if you notice and ask what's wrong, he'll try to deflect.
the only time he'd admit the truth is in complete privacy.
"I've lost enough things to know how easily they disappear. He pauses, then speaks. "You're one of the few beautiful things I've ever been allowed to keep."
hearing you reassure him doesn't magically erase his fears, but it stays with him. He'll remember your words long after the conversation ends, replaying them whenever doubt starts creeping back in.
over time, his jealousy becomes less about being afraid of losing you to someone else and more about trusting that you'll keep choosing him.
It's not an easy lesson for him but your consistency slowly chips away at years of believing that good things are always temporary.
even after that growth, though, there are moments when he'll catch your hand in his for no particular reason. It's his quiet way of reminding himself that you're still here and that, despite everything, he hasn't lost the person who became one of the brightest parts of his life
TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!!! I HAD FUN WRITING THIS… actually I think this is the first post i’ve done for headcannons
Is it going to be a series yes , yes it is <3 I am just going to draw all of my fav Visual Novel Men and Women and everything in between as Bunnies occasionally. 2/5 from Touchstarved done <3
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So basically from what I experienced The Unnamed got extra lines from Kuras and Ais, The Alchemist got more from Mhin and Leader so that's leave The Exile for Vere.
Vere gets hobo hermit MC for himself lol. Also Leander is totally a yandere and in this essay I will-
Alt. version under cut.
Also plz Red spring studio may I have a reference to any senobium uniform for research purposes?
The veggie pot soup/nightwatch soup is always my go-to healing dish nowadays but somehow I keep forgetting the recipe and end up buying onions and tomatoes unnecessarily. I like to think that he'd incorporate them into his cooking and let me help so we can create our own combined signature dish.
fucking hell, it actually got to the point where hiding works from guests doesn't protect them from discord scammers and ai shitheads anymore. they fed my fic to the slop machine...we need a new type of anti ai digital art overlay but for writers
content warnings: top! gn reader, bottom! illuga, trans ftm illuga, some clit play, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting ofc. may be ooc??
— nsfw utc.
"I bet I could do it," You declared, something in the back of your mind begging you to backtrack. But instead, you were keen on your words.
"What?" Illuga questioned, his voice careful.
"I could make you—"
"I heard what you said," Illuga cut you off. "It's just… I don't think I can even do it."
"Well," You spoke in a slow, teasing voice, trying to keep him on his toes. "I could try. If you're willing to, that is."
Oh, he was more than willing. And you wouldn't dare back down on a challenge.
Lying him down on your bed, he was stripped of everything that he wore, his cunt glistening in whatever light there was left, completely on display for you.
And you alone.
Between his opened thighs, you tried getting him comfortable first—your warm hands rubbing along his inner thighs, feeling his muscles tense under your wake, the tips of your fingers grazing along his rough skin.
Flicking your fingers, you draw a line along his soaking wet cunt, a slight note of arousal being left on the tip of your fingers, listening to that wanton whimper escaping from him at the sudden movement.
Your thumb presses firmly against his clit, and he whines—even more so when your thumb rubs slow circles along his clit. His back arches clean off of the bed, his hips rolling into your touch.
"Look at you," You mused, watching as Illuga's head turns slightly to the side. "You're so responsive already."
Illuga dared not to respond to your words. The way he squirmed against your hand said more than enough.
Your thumb moves away from his clit after giving the bundle of nerves a few curious touches, and your fingertips move down along his slit towards his leaking, pulsing entrance.
Your two fingers push deep inside of him, the tightness of his walls enveloping your digits. Illuga tenses up, hissing at the sudden stretch.
"Easy, baby," You soothe, "Relax for me."
And he does. He's trying to relax his body with everything in him, but with your fingers curling and hooking deep inside of him, it's making it harder to do so.
You thrust your fingers slowly inside of him, easing him into the feeling. As you do so, you prostrate yourself in between his legs, and flick your warm tongue against his needy clit, which made him let out a sharp gasp.
Your fingers hook deep inside, the pads of your fingers rubbing into that sweet spot that would make him see the views of Celestia itself, while your tongue rubbed teasing swirls on his aching clit.
Eventually, the pace picks up, and it gets hotter—your two fingers pumping in and out of his sopping cunt relentlessly while your lips were wrapped around his clit, suckling the bundle of nerves with fervor.
Illuga is so, so lost in that pleasure you're giving him—his back arching clean off of the mattress, hand fisted into your hair, just a touch too rough. Rough thighs trembled around your face, and he could practically feel you smirk against his cunt.
"Fuck, please," Illuga breathes, voice almost breathless. He's adorable, and so, so breakable.
You were determined. Determined to make him reach that peak, to make him see stars, and maybe even try to make him gush all over you, until the sheets are stained.
One flick of your fingers and hot tongue was more than enough to make him shiver completely under you. Even as his pleasure crests higher, higher, breathing more ragged, stomach tensing.
You didn't even care about your own pleasure. You needed to prove something, and you needed to show him what you were capable of.
Illuga cries out your name, echoing through the room, reverberating into your ears like a soft melody, he felt himself shake apart under your embrace as his head throws itself back, arching into your touch—
Illuga's orgasm rips through him, waves of intense pleasure washing over his body. Liquid gushed onto your face, and you lapped it up to the best of your ability, staining the sheets below you.
You are sure that the taste in your mouth—his taste—would linger until the next day.
You work Illuga through his orgasm, riding him through his high, slowing your movements, feeling him shake apart under you. His sharp moans would soon melt into shaky breaths, body giving out when you pull away.
You give him a moment to breathe, licking your fingers and lips clean.
"Fuck, that was…" Illuga sighed, "I didn't know I could…"
"Yeah? Well now you do," You taunted. "Told you I could do it."
Illuga scoffed. You smirked. Staring at the long wet spot on the sheets, you don't know how you'll get it clean. Maybe you'll figure it out.
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