. . . she · they , twenty one ! nanami's pretty angel, gepard's sweetheart, & ayato's beloved — minors do not interact ! anyone under eighteen or with no age on their blog will be blocked without warning — was kentofairy.
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notes ; a fluffy little draft i found. cw ; hurt / comfort , mild nsfw . — minors do not interact.
"i don't want to hear it anymore." argenti spoke softly, despite what some may consider to be harsh words. after he had found you crying on the bedroom floor, you confided in him that you were struggling with insecurities, specifically regarding your appearance. "you're beautiful, my beloved. i wish you could see yourself the way that i see you,"
"but— but—" you tried to interject but paused as he placed a gentle kiss to each of your tear-stained cheeks.
"i adore you," argenti hums. "i've seen many beautiful things as a knight, yet you're still many, many leagues above all of them." he takes a brief pause before asking: "may i kiss you, my love?"
you nod slowly. he wastes not a second, pressing his warm lips against yours. his motions are tender, hands cradling your sides as though you were a wounded fawn. he continues to kiss you until you're both breathless, wanting to work his hardest to display even a fraction of the unending stream of love he has for you.
his kisses slowly progress and begin to trail down your neck. argenti's eyes are on you at all times, concentrating in case he sensed even an ounce of discomfort. you whimpered softly as his lips found your sweet spot. there, he suckled on your skin. it was careful enough so as not to alarm you, yet still rough enough to leave a little mark. (when you saw this love bite in the mirror later on, you'd come to see that it was indeed heart shaped.)
argenti then resumed worshipping each inch of your skin. when he got to the neckline of your shirt, he looked up at you, asking for consent. the sheer sight of his wide, pleading eyes made your heart melt, especially when you recalled the fact that it was only you who ever got to see such a deity of a man this way.
as soon as the affirmative fell past your lips, argenti slipped your shirt over your head. his lips reattached to you, leaving even more markings that cascaded across your neck and chest. every small peck to the gentle bites that he leaves makes your heart flutter. if it took the entire day of praising you in such ways to make you feel even slightly better about yourself, your knight would be more than willing to serve.
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[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.
[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.
“What you did was incredibly stupid.”
“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”
“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”
“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”
“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”
“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”
“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”
“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”
“You could have bought another one.”
“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”
“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.
“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”
“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.
“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”
“It looks like a child made it.”
“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.
“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”
“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”
“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”
“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”
“How kind of you.”
He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”
“I’m married, Your Grace.”
“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.
“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”
“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”
“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”
“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.
