Chapter Text
You and Diluc were good friends. ”BFFs!” is what Kaeya would say. Diluc wouldn’t go that far—mostly out of embarrassment of such a childish term—but he does value you greatly. Perhaps more than you’ll ever know.
To be truthful with himself, Diluc was utterly enraptured with you. From the sound of your voice to the way you moved, Diluc dedicated it all to memory. He knew exactly how you liked your drinks and had one preemptively made at the same time every day for you. He knew just how you liked your food, too, though he only cooked for you on special occasions.
Diluc tried to convince himself that he learned all these things with good intentions. He does, honestly, like you and enjoy your company. But, at some point, his feelings for you twisted and morphed, becoming far more carnal. For him, the change was sudden. One day, he saw you as the sweet woman that he easily got along with. The next day, he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the nearest surface and take you.
He felt bad about it. Really, he did. He would try to force out the carnal desires that welled within him every time he saw you, tried to stomp them out and get rid of them. It never worked. Instead of being pure of mind, he would feel dirty inside his head with more and more salacious thoughts of you moaning his name came to mind. It would make him blush, his pants tightening as you would lean over to touch his arm or brush against him.
It was embarrassing and he convinced himself he was undesirable because of it. Really, would you want to be with a man that could hardly have a coherent conversation with you without thinking about how good you’d look sucking him off?
He may have a booming business, maids, butlers, and a lovely home, but he doesn’t have, won’t have you. And that stings the most.
Though, as much as Diluc cares for you—and demonizes himself for wanting you so desperately—he sometimes couldn’t stand to be near you for those very same reasons. Surely, you’d be better off without a man such as him by your side.
“Thank you so much for coming by to help! I’ll definitely owe you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m always happy to help you.”
But he, as always, succumbed to your will.
You had roped him into helping you clean your house, saying it was such a huge hassle to do on your own and the help would be appreciated. You had been gone for a couple months—Diluc counted every day you were gone—and after getting back, you had so much backlogged work that you let your house go a bit. Now, you needed help and Diluc was the first you went to.
When you had approached him a few hours ago, you were wearing a skirt that was just begging to be ripped off of your pretty hips. Or, would he rather lift it a bit and see what you wore underneath? Images of you in various different types of panties—or, better yet, none at all—had filled his mind. Bikini? High rise? Side tie? What color? He had to suppress a heavy shudder at the thought. Really, he’d love to see you in a thong…
Part of him wondered if you’d let him stick his head up your skirt and let him eat you out that way. He could imagine it in his bar, after hours of course, with you propped up on one of the tables. He’d get on his knees while you spread your legs, placing the backs of your knees on his shoulders, and dive in. Oh, and the way you’d say his name would drive him mad with lust, he just knew it. And the taste of your nectar would surely be—
He shook his head, trying to force the thoughts out. He was standing right next to you and, if he wasn’t careful, he’d sport a hard on that he wouldn’t be able to hide.
“Ok, just let me change right quick and we can get started!”
Diluc only nodded, afraid of what he’d say if he opened his mouth. You dashed into your room and closed the door, leaving him to stand awkwardly near the front door. He glanced around as he waited and, sure enough, your home did need a little bit of care. Dust had gathered in you absence and the windows needed to be let up.
He tried hard not to think about all the surfaces he could fuck you on as he kept looking around.
Soon, you came out. Shorts and a simple, slightly baggy top. Even though it mostly hid your shape, Diluc thought you still looked good enough to eat and, under his constant stream of salacious feelings, he thought you looked cute, too.
“Ok, lets get started!”
He nodded, rolling his sleeves up. “Got it.”
Diluc could barely contain himself.
He kept seeing you bend over or squat down, giving him the perfect view of your ass. Too many times he had to use his heavy coat to hide his crotch from sight. Cheeks red and body hot, he’d stare from afar, getting too lost in his fantasies to work half the time. He’s barely been helping for ten minutes. He needed a distraction or he’d be liable to bust in his pants.
“Oh, hey, do you mind checking my room?” You called out to him and he flinched, feeling like he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “It’s not too bad, mostly just dusty.”
“Sure,” he replied automatically.
Diluc stood and picked up the duster you were holding out. His fingers brushed yours and, even through his gloves, it was like he felt a spark of electricity and the lick of fire right behind it. His breath stuttered but he tried to play it off, coughing into the crook of his elbow. Smooth.
He turned and walked away quickly, trying to not focus on how you were crouched so low that you were eye level with his crotch. Thankfully, his erection had died down by that point, the shock of getting caught daydreaming about you killing it.
Your room wasn’t in bad shape. It wouldn’t take him long at all to clean it.
He heard you walk by and into another room of the house as he started dusting the place. All was fine and well until he happened to spot a pile of clothes.
It wasn’t just any pile of clothes. It was the ones you were wearing just a short while ago.
He saw the top and skirt you wore, but there was something else.
There, in the floor in the pile of clothes you just shed, were an eye catching shade of red. It was half obscured, but Diluc’s heart was pounding. He knew what those were, fingers twitching to grab them.
No, what was he thinking? He couldn’t just grab those, now could he? He was supposed to be helping you clean, not rummaging in your discarded clothes pile.
This is helping, a tiny voice, dark and twisted, whispered in his mind. You would just be sorting her clothes. What’s so wrong with that?
He gulped, mouth suddenly watering too much. He glanced behind him but you weren’t there. He could hear you moving about in the other room, oblivious to his inner struggle.
He shouldn’t, he really really shouldn’t. That would betray your trust, wouldn’t it? He’d be a total creep and rightfully so. There’s no way he could take something like that from you, no matter how much it makes his heart clench in his chest at the thought of being without it.
Then, that flimsy piece of cloth was in his traitorous hands, being held up in their full glory.
Panties.
Your panties.
He scrunched his face, regretful of the gloves he wore. He yanked them off his hands and stuffed them in his pockets, not caring how they fit in there.
Once bare, he ran his fingers along your panties. They were a sexy little red number, a lacy thong, Diluc quickly figured out. They had to cover absolutely nothing when you wore them with how tiny they were, he was sure of it. He could imagine you in them just minutes ago, speaking with him as if nothing was out of the ordinary, your secret laden against your skin under your clothes. And to think he found your skirt unbearably sensual.
He felt himself try to rise in his pants as he felt down the inside of your underwear with a single finger. He could see grooves in the cloth where your pussy was resting not so long ago. He gulped and oh, so gingerly, traced his finger across it.
Wet.
They weren’t drenched by any means, but they were very clearly wet in some capacity, slick gathering under his finger.
His breathing grew harsh, his cock now fully hard in his pants. He frantically glanced over his shoulder, praying to every archon that you wouldn’t suddenly pop up. His mouth watered, his grip tightening on your panties, shoulders rising and falling almost dramatically.
He wants to taste you. He wants it so bad it was thrumming in his veins, tainting him for every second he didn’t sate that desire. Or, perhaps he was already tainted, having felt on your underwear as he has. He wants to bury his face in your panties and pretend its your cunt in his face. Diluc knows he’s fucked up for thinking it but any other man in his position would do the same… right?
He brought them up to his face, lips parting. He wanted so badly to taste you, but shouldn’t he enjoy the aroma of his meal before he dined?
First, first, he inhaled your scent, bunching them up in his hands against his face. He couldn’t stop the tiny groan that slipped from him or how his eyes rolled back. Fucking hell. You smelt divine, lovely and sticking to his nostrils. He bunched them to his face with one hand while he palmed himself with the other, gripping his hard shaft. He took deep and greedy inhales, wishing to imprint your scent in his nose forever. How could he have gone for so long without them?
Then, faster than he could fully comprehend, he laved his tongue against where your pussy once laid, full on moaning at the taste. He shoved a hand down his pants, circling his length even as the last shred of rationale he had screamed at him not to.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be quietly muttering to himself in between licks on your panties about how good you tasted. He shouldn’t be slowly jerking himself, making his cock more engorged with blood. He shouldn’t run his tongue from the front to the back of your thong, shouldn’t damn near cream his pants at the disgraceful act he’s doing.
He shouldn’t want to shove them in his pocket and take them home to fully immerse himself in.
He takes a cautious glance over his shoulder once more. You weren’t there.
He stuffs the panties in his pocket and they left a searing heat that rivaled his pyro vision against his leg.
Putting his gloves back on, he finally set to work helping you clean like he promised, guilt clenching his heart all the while. It increased tenfold when you bounded in a few minutes later, bumping him with your hip right where your panties were shamefully stuffed, a wide smile on your lips.
You had said something, cheery and bubbly and, honestly, he was just happy to see you smile. He had turned his head and nodded, the joy at seeing you smile outweighed by the nefarious weight in his pocket.
A few hours later and he was somehow still able to function. He left your home with you wishing him safe passage on his journey home. He didn’t respond as he walked away, hearing you close and lock your door. He dipped a finger into his pocket, feeling at the cloth there, shuddering a heavy breath.
He was fucked.
Halfway home and Diluc couldn’t take it anymore.
He was so hard it was bordering on painful, mind so frazzled he barely had the thought to deftly fend off a couple slimes that had popped out earlier. It was embarrassing and if it weren’t already dark, he surely would have combusted from the mockery if he were seen.
For now, he needed to make a pit stop.
Right outside of Springvale, he spotted the tiny half-shack with a still burning campfire and pot. It didn’t smell as if anything was cooking and so he did the bare minimum in checking for anyone. A quick glance around told him that no one was nearby and that was enough for him.
He had his cock out and was stroking himself by the time he hobbled into the little shelter. There was a barrel near the corner and he slotted himself between them, grateful for the cover it provided, no matter how small.
Snatching your panties from his pocket, he swiftly held them back up to his face, inhaling your scent and letting his following moan flow free. He sniffed again and shivered, hand picking up speed.
Diluc grunted, the friction from his gloves not as comfortable. He paused a moment, ripping his gloves off to toss into the dirt. He cared not what happened to those things, so long as he got what he really wanted.
With his hands now free, he was able to once again feel the lace that lined them. He mumbled your name, softly, quietly, as if afraid you’d hear him, before practically shoving them into his mouth. Of course, he made sure that his tongue laid right across where your bare cunt once was. It wasn’t wet with your juices anymore, but he could still taste you.
“Shit,” he hissed in between his frantic lapping. “Tastes so good, so fucking good. I bet you’re so tight and hot. Bet you’d squirt all over my cock and beg for more like a little whore, my good little slut.”
His ramblings were only half minded, but they made his balls draw tight regardless, feet planting in the dirt. His body was running hot, sweat dotting his brow as he jerked himself faster. His dick was practically weeping, his precum slipping down his shaft and coating his hand, providing for a more slick feel.
He panted harshly, legs spreading wider, the shameful sound of him masturbating filling the air around him. Sweat made stray strands of hair stick to his forehead as he tipped his skull back, letting it land heavy against the shack’s half wall. He sniffed the panties again, eyes rolling back as he moaned your name aloud into the night air. Nothing but pure, unadulterated lust and sinful heat laced with self humiliation flowed in his veins. He felt fueled by it even as a small part of his brain tried to say what was the sane, correct thing to do.
Either toss the panties or return them and apologize before facing judgement.
But did that route provide him with any sort of sexual relief? Would he be so lucky as to bend you over and slam into you, to hear you cry his name out as he railed you? Would he be able to impress you with his strength by folding you in half at the hips, your legs on his shoulders? Would he be able to shoot his seed inside you and make you his for life?
Not if he took that route. (Not like he would ever get the chance to do those things now, but he quickly shoved the thought out of his head.)
He tossed aside the last of his logical thinking and dived head first into his degeneracy instead.
“Your pussy smells and tastes so good, baby. You’re so good, so perfect and amazing.” He felt high off the scent and taste, your name intermingled with filthy words flying from his mouth before he could even think about it. “I’m gonna cum all over that pussy and you’re gonna love it, little slut. Paint you white on the outside then I’ll paint you white on the inside. Fuuuuck, are you ready? I’m so close.”
If he were more in control of himself right then, he may even find it in himself to scrunch his nose up at the words. But that no longer matters. He could feel the string low in his gut drawing taut, making his hips rock up into his hand. He was almost there but he needed just an extra push. A little something extra to get him over that edge.
He transferred the panties to his dick, using both hands to jerk himself off with. Your name was a distinct, wavering chant on his lips, interspersed with his out-of-brain-horny ramblings. He wanted to do so much with and to you, wanted you in so many positions and places. The bed, the couch, a countertop, in the tub, on the floor, against the wall, just fucking anywhere he could.
He felt animalistic in his pursuit to orgasm, his mind’s eye flooded with dirty images of you, getting him closer to that edge. The lace against his dick felt sinful yet it sated that urge within him just a bit so he kept going. His hips were jerking up into his fists as he tried to move them at the same pace. He was so close and so turned on that he fell out of sync with himself multiple times. But, somehow, the sloppiness of his thrusting only further increased his pleasure, a deep, gravely moan bordering on a growl trying to work its way up.
With the image of you on your back with your legs bent and open wide as you spread your cunt open for him and a shout of your name that was sure to wake the wildlife, he came.
His back arched, head forced into the planks once again, feet digging into the earth. He kept jerking himself at a slowed pace, hips raised up and staying there. He could feel some of his cum shoot through the tiny gaps of your flimsy thong’s lace, landing on his hands and pants.
Finally, his orgasm waned and he sagged back to the ground, slouching so far that his shoulders were nearly in the grass with the rest of him. He panted, hands drooping down to rest on the ground. He let his eyes close for just a moment, letting the cool night air blow over his heated body. He was flushed, he knew, and looked an absolute mess.
Diluc stayed like that for a while before finally sitting back up. He peeled your now soiled thong from his softened cock. Even as his rationale slowly came back and told him that the sight was disgusting, he couldn’t help but to shudder. Even so, he just couldn’t get rid of them, could he? Maybe he could clean them up and keep them for future sessions. They’re still a perfectly good pair of panties. No need for them to go to waste, right?
He internally cringed at his attempt to rationalize his disturbing actions even as he followed through. He swiped off as much of his nut as he could before gently folding them and sliding them into his pocket. He’ll need his jacket cleaned, too, but that can wait.
He stood on unsteady legs and tucked himself back into his pants before dusting off the grass and dirt that stuck to him. A vague sense of dread and shame clouded over him, your panties once again searing him, a sign of his wrongdoings.
He tried not to think on the walk home, but it was hard not to. You knew he took them, didn’t you? You had to have noticed they were gone by now. And even if you didn’t, that surely won’t make any of the guilt he feels disappear. Would you even speak to him again if you knew? You had said you wanted him to come by again sometime, just to hang out, but could he be able to stand it, knowing what he’s done?
By the time he made it home, he couldn’t even look his maids in the face. They tried to fuss and busy themselves with getting him ready for bed but he refused them and demanded they bring scentless laundry soap and a basin of water to his room. They did as told and he quickly got to work in cleaning your panties. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but when he finished and brought them to his nose to sniff, he didn’t smell either you or himself, so perhaps he did it right.
He kept those panties with him everyday, gloves now rarely on so he could feel the soft material in his pocket. You did still speak with him, friendly and bubbly as always, so perhaps you didn’t know. When you questioned him about his gloves’ absence, he gave a vague answer that you didn’t read into. He was glad, for if he had to tell you how he’d use that thong every night to get himself off, he’d surely perish on the spot.
Diluc felt disgusting.