AI Art: 18+, Setting: Same dark office, late night. Wriothesley is already sitting in his big leather chair, shirt open, belt undone. Tartaglia is on his knees in front of him, wrists still cuffed behind his back from the previous round. Wriothesley (leans back in the chair, spreads his thighs wider, voice low and dangerous) — You made a mess all over my chair, Harbinger. Time to clean it up… with your mouth. Tartaglia (on his knees, face flushed, cum still dripping from his own hole down his thighs, tries to keep some pride) — You’re seriously gonna make me… Wriothesley (grabs a fistful of ginger hair, yanks his head forward until Tartaglia’s lips almost touch the half-hard, cum-slick cock) — I’m not asking. Open. Tartaglia (hesitates half a second, glares up) — …Make me. Wriothesley (smirks, dark and cold, tightens the grip until it hurts) — Cute. You still think you have a choice. (He forces Tartaglia’s head down. The thick head pushes past resistant lips in one rough motion.) Tartaglia (muffled choke, eyes watering instantly) — Mmph—! Wriothesley (groans low, hips rolling lazily) — There we go… tongue out, slut. Lick it clean. Every drop you begged for earlier? Swallow it now. Tartaglia (tries to pull back, can’t, wrists straining against cuffs; tears spill as he’s forced deeper) — Hngg— too— too big— Wriothesley (uses the hair grip like a handle, starts slow fucking his mouth) — You took it in your ass just fine. Throat’s next. Relax or gag, your call. Tartaglia (gagging loudly, drool pouring down his chin, but his tongue starts moving obediently) — Glk— glk— yes sir… Wriothesley (watches with half-lidded eyes, voice dropping even lower) — Look at me while you choke on it. (Tartaglia forces his teary eyes up; blue irises completely glazed, pupils blown wide with humiliation and lust.) Wriothesley (thumb wipes a tear, smears it across Tartaglia’s cheek) — Good boy. Deeper. (He suddenly stands up, still gripping the hair, and starts thrusting properly; chair creaks behind him.) Wriothesley — Hands behind your back, mouth open, eyes up. Perfect little prison cocksleeve. Tartaglia (throat bulging visibly with every push, muffled moans, mascara-like tears running, drool strings swinging) — Mmph— please— Wriothesley (speeds up, breathing getting rough) — Please what? Please cum down your throat so you can taste how full I left your ass? Tartaglia (whimpers around the cock, nodding frantically) Wriothesley (growls, holds Tartaglia’s head flush against his pelvis, cock buried to the root) — Then swallow. (He comes hard, thick, heavy pulses straight into Tartaglia’s throat. Tartaglia’s eyes roll back, throat working desperately to take it all, some leaking from the corners of his mouth.) Wriothesley (pulls out slowly, slaps the wet cock against Tartaglia’s cheek a few times) — Show me. Tartaglia (opens his mouth obediently; tongue out, cum pooled, chest heaving) Wriothesley (smirks, pats his cheek almost affectionately) — Swallow. (Tartaglia does, throat bobbing, then coughs once.) Wriothesley (tucks himself back in, sits down again, pulls the wrecked Tartaglia into his lap like a ragdoll) — Good pet. Next time you want my attention… just get on your knees from the start. Tartaglia (voice completely hoarse, small broken laugh) — …Yes, Your Grace.

NFerNatsu

18+, Setting: Same dark office, late night. Wriothesley is already sitting in his big leather chair, shirt open, belt undone. Tartaglia is on his knees in front of him, wrists still cuffed behind his back from the previous round.
Wriothesley (leans back in the chair, spreads his thighs wider, voice low and dangerous)
— You made a mess all over my chair, Harbinger. Time to clean it up… with your mouth.
Tartaglia (on his knees, face flushed, cum still dripping from his own hole down his thighs, tries to keep some pride)
— You’re seriously gonna make me…
Wriothesley (grabs a fistful of ginger hair, yanks his head forward until Tartaglia’s lips almost touch the half-hard, cum-slick cock)
— I’m not asking. Open.
Tartaglia (hesitates half a second, glares up)
— …Make me.
Wriothesley (smirks, dark and cold, tightens the grip until it hurts)
— Cute. You still think you have a choice.
(He forces Tartaglia’s head down. The thick head pushes past resistant lips in one rough motion.)
Tartaglia (muffled choke, eyes watering instantly)
— Mmph—!
Wriothesley (groans low, hips rolling lazily)
— There we go… tongue out, slut. Lick it clean. Every drop you begged for earlier? Swallow it now.
Tartaglia (tries to pull back, can’t, wrists straining against cuffs; tears spill as he’s forced deeper)
— Hngg— too— too big—
Wriothesley (uses the hair grip like a handle, starts slow fucking his mouth)
— You took it in your ass just fine. Throat’s next. Relax or gag, your call.
Tartaglia (gagging loudly, drool pouring down his chin, but his tongue starts moving obediently)
— Glk— glk— yes sir…
Wriothesley (watches with half-lidded eyes, voice dropping even lower)
— Look at me while you choke on it.
(Tartaglia forces his teary eyes up; blue irises completely glazed, pupils blown wide with humiliation and lust.)
Wriothesley (thumb wipes a tear, smears it across Tartaglia’s cheek)
— Good boy. Deeper.
(He suddenly stands up, still gripping the hair, and starts thrusting properly; chair creaks behind him.)
Wriothesley
— Hands behind your back, mouth open, eyes up. Perfect little prison cocksleeve.
Tartaglia (throat bulging visibly with every push, muffled moans, mascara-like tears running, drool strings swinging)
— Mmph— please—
Wriothesley (speeds up, breathing getting rough)
— Please what? Please cum down your throat so you can taste how full I left your ass?
Tartaglia (whimpers around the cock, nodding frantically)
Wriothesley (growls, holds Tartaglia’s head flush against his pelvis, cock buried to the root)
— Then swallow.
(He comes hard, thick, heavy pulses straight into Tartaglia’s throat. Tartaglia’s eyes roll back, throat working desperately to take it all, some leaking from the corners of his mouth.)
Wriothesley (pulls out slowly, slaps the wet cock against Tartaglia’s cheek a few times)
— Show me.
Tartaglia (opens his mouth obediently; tongue out, cum pooled, chest heaving)
Wriothesley (smirks, pats his cheek almost affectionately)
— Swallow.
(Tartaglia does, throat bobbing, then coughs once.)
Wriothesley (tucks himself back in, sits down again, pulls the wrecked Tartaglia into his lap like a ragdoll)
— Good pet. Next time you want my attention… just get on your knees from the start.
Tartaglia (voice completely hoarse, small broken laugh)
— …Yes, Your Grace.

—— the end ——

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NFerNatsu

18+, Setting: Same dark office, late night. Wriothesley is already sitting in his big leather chair, shirt open, belt undone. Tartaglia is on his knees in front of him, wrists still cuffed behind his back from the previous round. Wriothesley (leans back in the chair, spreads his thighs wider, voice low and dangerous) — You made a mess all over my chair, Harbinger. Time to clean it up… with your mouth. Tartaglia (on his knees, face flushed, cum still dripping from his own hole down his thighs, tries to keep some pride) — You’re seriously gonna make me… Wriothesley (grabs a fistful of ginger hair, yanks his head forward until Tartaglia’s lips almost touch the half-hard, cum-slick cock) — I’m not asking. Open. Tartaglia (hesitates half a second, glares up) — …Make me. Wriothesley (smirks, dark and cold, tightens the grip until it hurts) — Cute. You still think you have a choice. (He forces Tartaglia’s head down. The thick head pushes past resistant lips in one rough motion.) Tartaglia (muffled choke, eyes watering instantly) — Mmph—! Wriothesley (groans low, hips rolling lazily) — There we go… tongue out, slut. Lick it clean. Every drop you begged for earlier? Swallow it now. Tartaglia (tries to pull back, can’t, wrists straining against cuffs; tears spill as he’s forced deeper) — Hngg— too— too big— Wriothesley (uses the hair grip like a handle, starts slow fucking his mouth) — You took it in your ass just fine. Throat’s next. Relax or gag, your call. Tartaglia (gagging loudly, drool pouring down his chin, but his tongue starts moving obediently) — Glk— glk— yes sir… Wriothesley (watches with half-lidded eyes, voice dropping even lower) — Look at me while you choke on it. (Tartaglia forces his teary eyes up; blue irises completely glazed, pupils blown wide with humiliation and lust.) Wriothesley (thumb wipes a tear, smears it across Tartaglia’s cheek) — Good boy. Deeper. (He suddenly stands up, still gripping the hair, and starts thrusting properly; chair creaks behind him.) Wriothesley — Hands behind your back, mouth open, eyes up. Perfect little prison cocksleeve. Tartaglia (throat bulging visibly with every push, muffled moans, mascara-like tears running, drool strings swinging) — Mmph— please— Wriothesley (speeds up, breathing getting rough) — Please what? Please cum down your throat so you can taste how full I left your ass? Tartaglia (whimpers around the cock, nodding frantically) Wriothesley (growls, holds Tartaglia’s head flush against his pelvis, cock buried to the root) — Then swallow. (He comes hard, thick, heavy pulses straight into Tartaglia’s throat. Tartaglia’s eyes roll back, throat working desperately to take it all, some leaking from the corners of his mouth.) Wriothesley (pulls out slowly, slaps the wet cock against Tartaglia’s cheek a few times) — Show me. Tartaglia (opens his mouth obediently; tongue out, cum pooled, chest heaving) Wriothesley (smirks, pats his cheek almost affectionately) — Swallow. (Tartaglia does, throat bobbing, then coughs once.) Wriothesley (tucks himself back in, sits down again, pulls the wrecked Tartaglia into his lap like a ragdoll) — Good pet. Next time you want my attention… just get on your knees from the start. Tartaglia (voice completely hoarse, small broken laugh) — …Yes, Your Grace.

#@Tartaglia_(Genshin_Impact)

#@Wriothesley_(Genshin_Impact)