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flokali · 8 months

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♢ I love you, I own you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub-con, penetration, coming inside, unprotected, undertones of misogyny, toxic parents, manipulation and gaslighting, obsessive, paranoid, and possessive behavior, toxic mindset, coerced submission, getting walked into, bribing, murder, torture, self-doubt and insecurities (mc), arranged marriage, implied financial insecurity, implied virginity (mc & childe), spoilers for tartaglia’s story/lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narration (at times). ask to tag.

pairing: afab! fem! reader (bottom) x childe (top)

word count: 13.3k

a/n: ahhh; hopefully this is good >_< i love him so much… after almost a year, ‘tis done ^_^

part two: here

— 18+

Childe is horrified and incredibly angered, if not down right homicidal, when he finds out your parents planned to have you engaged to a no-name Fatui henchman, it’s only a further blow to his already weakened heart when the news don’t come from you nor your family but from the loud mouths of your “soon to be fiancé” and his goons. His blue eyes widen and he feels himself grow lightheaded, his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out and, oh Celestia, he thinks he’s going to puke.

While perhaps not the most befitting behavior for a Harbinger, Ajax couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he had first heard the mention of your name and while he’s extremely glad he did, - he’s silently thanking the Tsaritsa for telling him now so he could do something - he almost wishes he didn’t as he’s now forced to go back to his office and wordlessly deal with the intrusive thoughts racing through his head.

All he can think about are the countless pinky promises you’d both made to each other during your childhood, the coos of both of your parents when they had first heard him declare his love for you, the feeling of your hands against his when you kissed his cheek goodbye before the fateful day he stumbled down the abyss, the way you and only you were the sole thing keeping him together during his time there, the way you sobbed in relief when he first approached you after emerging victorious from hell itself; did those moments mean nothing? Had only he been impacted by them? Had you forgotten his love for you - your love for him?

No, he thought as he marched to his desk, there’s no way - you had to have felt it too, you must have kept those memories deep in your heart as did he. You both were meant to be, childhood sweethearts, one soul in two different bodies, created from the same stars and carved out from the same earth, put into the same world to meet and love each other from your first life to the last. You were his and he was yours, you were one and the same, you were lovers - it was written in the stars and in his very flesh, it was a fact as true as his love for you.

His breathing is ragged and he can’t contain his shaking body, he never should have trusted your parents - they obviously didn’t have your best interest in mind, if they cared about you at all they would have never promised your hand to another, they would’ve realized he, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, he was the best man for you.

Granted, they hadn’t heard from good little Ajax for years, not ever since he’d left for the Fatui - he only ever kept consistent correspondence with you and his family - but that’s no excuse, there was no excuse for their actions, they were disgusting pests that were blinded by greed. How much money had they taken to accept such a disgusting agreement? 500,000 Mora? No, that was too cheap… 1,000,000? 2,000,000? More? Maybe it was in the tens of millions, there was no way you were being given away for less, right?

“Ahhh,” the ginger sank in his chair, his trembling hands finding his hair and pulling at the soft strands in frustration, “what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do? Shit… this can’t be happening.”

He wanted to cry and destroy everything. Destroy that man, no… that poor, pathetic excuse of a man that had dared try and stake his claim on you. This wasn’t your fault, there was no way you knew – never once in your letters had you mentioned a lover nor a wedding, you would have told him - would have begged for him to save you - if you did know you must have cried and begged for them to not marry you to that bastard, sobbed as you muttered his - Ajax’s - name like a mantra, begging to be taken by him and finally wed to the true love of your life.

It felt like the world was falling and crushing him alive.

How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you? To him, to you, to the both of you.

He could just have the man killed, sent on a suicide mission disguised as an essential step for gnosis hunting - maybe even under the pretense of a promotion, he was sure he’d accept anything, he was a no name soldier that would probably be forgotten by the next round of recruitment -, and make your parents go bankrupt, burn their house and have their businesses fail before delivering the final blow of jailing them due to fraud or maybe even executed under claims of treason; the thoughts calmed his rapid heart, if only slightly.

They needed to be taught a lesson, they shouldn’t put their dirty, greedy hands where they didn’t belong.

But no, that’d be too light of a punishment, and there would be so many loose threads - he’d rather be on good terms with your family - if only for you -, could it maybe be a misunderstanding? It could be, right? They were like family to him once, after all, and a part of him hates the idea of them having grown so vile and corrupted, they were supposed to be his in-laws and he’d rather his children have both sets of grandparents. Not to mention, you’d be so sad to see them gone, even if there was a chance they were worth nothing more than dirt.

No, that wouldn’t do, his wife couldn’t be sad - he’d confront them as soon as physically possible, question their actions and propose a better arrangement, and depending on their answer they would become the Fatui’s latest show of loyalty to the Tsaritsa or officially join the perfect future he’d dreamed of with you.

Yes, that’s what he’d do, his shaking heart finally comes to a rest as he begins to plan his trip. If things went south he could easily have his initial plan executed quickly, and while he doesn’t particularly like the idea of having to plan their execution arrangements, justice wasn’t always pleasant.

It’d be alright, surely all of this could be resolved through a mature, adult conversation. And if not, then Childe wasn’t a Harbinger for naught.

It takes him a few days until he’s able to find the time to meet up with your parents, though, honestly, it’s more like barging into your home unannounced and demanding answers. He has a job - a serious job, after all, one that demands his presence and takes true effort and work, unlike that shitty excuse of meat your parents wanted you to marry - and he had matters to attend to – after all forging evidence for a possible execution isn’t easy and he wants to be prepared, it was one of the few times where he wanted to come in with a proper battle plan.

He had it all planned out if things went south, a few reports here, some testimonies there, a lengthy transcript or two, a handful of bank reports, and soon your parents would look like traitors to the crown and be sentenced to public execution.

All he had to do was confront them in person. He wasn’t sure if your parents would be home, he hoped so as to not prolong such a troublesome process any longer, but he was willing to wait. He was getting his answers today, one way or another; he’d free you from this horrid arrangement and whisk you away to give you the life you truly deserved.

Luckily for him, you live in the same neighborhood as you always had, so no time had to be wasted searching for your family’s whereabouts. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to come back to his childhood neighborhood and he can’t help the giddiness in his heart as he strolls through memory lane while making his way down the streets you two shared a childhood in, it looked almost the same - a few differences here and there like a new house or someone’s place having been renovated, but it felt just like home. His parents had long since moved houses into a fancier side of the city, the money Childe managed to bring home as a Harbinger long since allowing them the luxuries that had once felt impossible, but he almost wishes they hadn’t as he spots your family’s humble abode, his heart longing back to the days of your shared youth.

It’s a two story house, built with strong wood made to resist Snezhnaya’s harshest winters and the cold summers, the roof was made of strong wood and designed so that snow would fall as to not sink, the front yard still held the swing you’d begged your parents for on your tenth birthday, the mailbox was still slightly crooked from the time he had head-butted it when racing you back from the park, the flowerbed still held the same flowers and plants that were able to withstand Snezhnaya’s harsh weather, the tree somehow still seemed to harbor the countless balls you two had gotten stuck there back when you were in your preteens; it was like it had been frozen in time, the only true difference he could spot was your older figure sitting on the front steps looking as if you were waiting for something, maybe someone; maybe him.

His heart stops as do his steps, he’d been so busy the last couple of years he hadn’t been able to pay you a visit in person, he’d had a few soldiers patrol the area before, but nothing could prepare Ajax for the surge of emotions that coursed through his body as he laid eyes on you.

Your body was taller and you had grown into your features, but you were still you - your eyes still shined with the hope and love he’d long since lost while your lips were still as tempting as he remembered. There was no doubt it was you, he’d recognize you anywhere; no matter how much you changed. But you looked sad, your lips downcast, your eyes filled with tears, and your frame hunched over, it was clear you were cold by the shaking of your frame but you didn’t falter - still sitting down with a flimsy blanket wrapped around you as you waited.

The scene made him pick up his pace, he was desperate to reach your side; what had happened? Why did you look so sad? Were you hurt? His men had not informed him of anything happening that would explain the crystal like tears that pooled in your eyes, just the sight was enough to have his blood boiling and fists shaking as he wondered who was responsible for the pain you so openly displayed.

Have you found out about Andrei and your parents’ sins? The thought of them being the reason for your sorrow made him grow dizzy with rage, but the negative feelings can only last so long as he has you in his sights. Your mere presence seemed to lull his emotional heart into a more tranquil state.

“[Y/N]?” Childe asked, he was only a few feet away from you but he didn’t dare walk closer, “Is that you?”

“A-Ajax?” Your eyes widened, hope evident in your voice and it’s like all traces of the previous pain in your face had vanished, “Oh, Ajax!”

You hesitate for a second before breaking into a smile when you realize it really was him. It almost looks like you want to burst into tears and he’s sure he probably doesn’t look any better, seeing you in the flesh after so long felt like a dream and as if every moment without you until now had been but a nightmare, he can’t help himself from running towards you and throwing himself into your arms. He looks older, definitely more mature, his is build stronger now - probably due to the fighting and training he endured as a Harbinger, you thought - but his smile was still the same, perhaps a bit empty but it still filled your heart with a warmth that could battle Snezhnaya’s unforgiving cold. It felt right to have him back in your arms as if time had never been cruel and taken him away from you, you could have sweared your worries disappeared the moment you took in his warmth.

His white coat floats through the air as he lands between your arms, and you can feel his smile in your chest as he hugs you tight.

He was finally home, he thought, in your arms and back in the neighborhood that had raised him - he was with you and that was all that mattered, the man was filled with so much ecstasy he could almost forget why he’d come here.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your voice is shaky and the ginger feels himself melt at the familiar tone of your voice.

“I should be asking you that,” he laughs, his eyebrows becoming furrowed in concern as he speaks, “it’s freezing, darling, you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I… I was waiting for one of your letters,” you whisper shyly, during your time away from each other - weekly letters had been your primary source of communication, something you’d learn to love and cherish as one of the few forms of contact you and Childe could have without your parents knowing his dangerous job and position.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he realizes you were safe, if anything he feels ashamed he hadn’t been able to send you anything and caused you such pain, his heart aches as he tries to wrap around his head he may have hurt your feelings, his gloved fingers find your cheek and squeezes it tightly, “however, it’s too cold for you to be outside with just a blanket, my love.”

“I know,” you shake your head, you go to lift a hand to wipe the stray tears that had escaped you but Childe takes care of it for you as he delicately caressed your face, “it’s just, I hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks and I got worried, I thought… maybe something had happened in Liyue and you’d gotten hurt.”

“O-oh… I’m sorry,” his deep blue eyes look downcast as he processes your words, “I never meant to worry you, I had so much to do and to say that instead of a letter I decided to come meet you in person, i-isn’t that better, love? I simply couldn’t be away from you any longer, it’s my fault, though, I should have told you so earlier, ahh… I can’t believe I’ve made my angel cry.”

A poor soldier would have their head cut off tonight, he thought, for he was certain he’d sent a bag full of letters meant to last you at least a full season to be delivered everyday to you while he arranged for this mess to be solved.

You nod as stars fill your eyes before shaking your head as if assuring him you were alright. You loved Ajax and you had loved him for almost all your life, from the moment you met him you’d been charmed by his boyish good looks and charisma, of course a few things had changed, but he was still your sweet Ajax, the boy who’d stolen your heart and kept it safely within his arms for as long as you’ve known him.

“Come on,” you signal him to stand up with a soft pat and the man has to stop himself from begging for more of your touch, “let’s go inside, you must be tired and we have so much to talk about.” He nods and lets himself be pulled up by you as you giggle and smile about finally being able to talk face to face after years of not being able to physically see each other.

You feel like a teenager again as you lead Ajax into your house, your heart beating like you were confessing your love for the first time - the excitement was practically the same, your head felt fuzzy from the warm feeling holding Childe’s hand gave you; you had missed him terribly. You feel like you were about to explode into a million piece from excitement, your head filled with everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Ajax’s face ever since he left, all the news that felt too important to simply write out and that had you hoping a day like this would finally come, you’re scared of coming off too intensely but your heart truly feels like it’ll burst from joy, unfortunately your excitement comes to an abrupt end when you finally drag him into your living room. You turn around to offer him a drink or something to eat, the trip from the capital all the way over here was a couple hours long and he’d always had quite an appetite, but you’re faced with a look of disappointment and slight anger as he looks around the room, your heart sinks - just seconds ago he was all smiles and laughter as you two embraced each other in the harsh winter, having created a warm paradise between each other, but now he looked as if he couldn’t stand to be in your house and you wonder if maybe you’d angered him somehow even though you logically knew you’d done nothing other than invite him inside.

Maybe you were overreacting, you think, you’d been quite paranoid as of recently, your family had been distant and you’d been feeling lonely and anxious for a while. It’d been an embarrassingly long time since you’d had guests over, at least, guests that mattered to you and hadn’t been your parents’ friends or siblings spouses. The look in Ajax’s face makes your stomach churn; had something happened?

“Are your parents home?” He asks, his voice tinged in a mixture of distaste and sadness, it’s lower than when he’d spoken to you earlier and you wonder what could have happened to create such a drastic change in his behavior. If you took the time to notice you’d see how his eyes glare at the family portrait; the two traitors clear as day as they embraced their children, Childe couldn’t help but see them in a new, more negative and hateful light.

Not after two weeks of research, not when he was now certain they wanted to get in his way.

“No, they said they weren’t coming home until later tonight, but if you want to stay till then I’m sure they'd love to see you again,” you try to reassure him thinking he was perhaps saddened at not being able to see your parents, it’d make sense since, unlike you two, they hadn’t been able to keep in touch since the young man’s career in the Fatui began.

“I… I don’t think I want to meet them, no,” Ajax shakes his head, his hair bouncing as he makes his way to your sofa, his legs tremble slightly – cowards, he thinks, not even able to show their faces, “I actually came here to talk to them but, ha… now that I’m here I’m not too sure.”

“Hmm, how so?” You ask, your heart - which was already quite nervous at his sudden change of mood - sinks further, a sudden uneasiness fills your lungs.

He’d come here in hopes of finding you parents and confronting them with his findings, he would have offered them a chance to redeem themselves and cancel the wedding without you even finding out about the secret dealings they’d been making in your name, but they were not here, you were. Maybe, he could change his battle plan, if he couldn’t talk to your parents… why not simply talk to you? If he’d offered a higher sum and never asked you himself, he’d be no better than that lowlife and your parents, not that you’d reject him - but the thought of steeping as low as they did made him sick.

“What are your thoughts about marriage?” The question is so sudden and unrelated to the previous topic you instinctively frown.

“Marriage,” you sit down opposite of him, it feels like you’re in a job interview as he questions you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but I’m not sure I want to get married, at least not now, I’m not too sure I’d want to give it all up; I mean, I have a job and friends, there’s so much to do, so much I want to do… and I can’t say I’d be able to do it all if I was married. I’d like to travel and, I… I don’t know, learn more I guess, I feel like if I settle down it'll be once I’m more, you know, confident or mature?”

You trail off awkwardly, it was true - the only times you’d ever seriously thought about marriage often included you being significantly older and, most of the time, with an already retired Ajax — though you wouldn’t admit that to his face unless you were certain he felt the same. You’d rather keep that last part hidden, if not for fear of making him uncomfortable, for the sake of your heart and fear of being brushed aside. Your parents had made it quite clear; you were no marriage-material, you’d be lucky if you even manage to get a partner at this rate, and you doubted a man as accomplished as Tartaglia, Ajax, the 11th Harbinger, would settle for a average, clumsy, pessimistic small town girl such as yourself.

He stays quiet as if a million thoughts were racing around his head; that wasn’t the answer he particularly wanted, he’d rather hear you’d been fantasizing of marrying him, hear you ramble on and on about how you’d been waiting for him and were just about ready to go down the aisle with him and promise yourself to one another but he was glad you weren’t against the idea of marriage, even if he wished you’d been more open about doing it sooner rather than later; but that would change, he was sure of it.

“And, uh, what about you?” You ask, the air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to ease the tension, only one thought was really running through your head that you were too afraid to ask; “What was going on with Ajax?”

“Me?” The question snaps him out of whatever mental trance he’d caught himself in, “Well, I want to get married, the sooner the better, I want to have a family, but it’s gotta be with the person I love the most in this world, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine living without them.”

Neither the words themselves nor the sentiment are crazy, even if you’d only just gotten to know him, it was obvious Ajax wanted a loving family to call his own and it was a pretty common desire for many, it more so was the way his eyes seemed to bore into your own as he spoke, as if he were trying to let you know it was you who he was talking about. You flustered at the thought, it was perhaps selfish to think it was you he was talking about but the thought pleased you nonetheless even if your parents’ words echoed in your mind.

“That’s, ah,” you mumble, breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, trying to calm your beating heart, you should stop being so silly - he was here to talk with your parents, not you, both of you meeting was mere coincidence, nothing else, “really nice, I hope you find them soon..”

“You do?” He smiles, seemingly pleased with your words, but it’s significantly weaker than usual.

There’s an awkward silence as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d come here to propose. You know it sounds crazy and incredibly sudden but the mention of marriage and wanting to talk to your folk, the fact he’d made the time in his incredibly busy schedule and travels to come over to your house, it made it sound like he had ulterior motives for coming here and just the thought of them had you flustered. You may have just said you wanted to hold off on marriage, that you doubted someone like him would even think of being your partner, but you felt certain that if Ajax asked for your hand you would agree with no hesitation – out of a pitiful mix of love and desperation.

You’re unsure of what to do and are about to speak up, willing to say almost anything to move the conversation forward and away from the topic, but he beats you to it and breaks the silence first.

“Listen, dove… I-I love your parents and I wouldn’t accuse them of something like this if I didn’t have evidence, okay?” He lies through his teeth, after finding out the way they were so willing to get in between you two he could barely stand the thought of them now, but he’s lucky the rest of the words come easy, “I really didn’t want to believe this either, but I have many a reason to suspect they may be trying marrying you off soon to a stranger.”

“W-What?” You breathe out, you struggle to process his words, it’s as if they’d bounced off your brain and floated off elsewhere, “M-marrying me off? What’s - what do you mean?”

No, no, no way.

You feel yourself grow tense and light headed.

What sort of messed up prank was this? There was no way… right?

“It seems they found a member of the Fatui,” he shakes his head, “a guy named Andrei Galkin, and they’re planning to marry you off to him, so I decided to ask around - it seems like it’s been a topic for a while now, money may be involved too, the reason I came here was to… have a talk with your parents, see if I could change their mind.”

“D-do you even have proof?” You ask with a shivering voice, heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to feel hot in embarrassment and anger; your parents were meaning to sell you off to some man? This had to be a joke Childe was playing, you’d known he’d become a bit off after the Abyss incident and you knew his time as a Harbinger probably messed him up, but this wasn’t funny. It was disgusting, the mere prospect has you trembling as you try and grasp what on earth was happening. However, the more you look at him, you wonder if this is a joke at all. You studied him and his expression, desperately trying to see anything on his face that’d indicate this was a sick prank from his part, a cheeky smile or maybe lack of eye contact - anything would do, you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as you realized how absurd it’d be for him to come all the way to a village hours away from the main city to play such a horrible joke on you, one he must have known would cause you pain and anguish — you doubted he’d want to see you like this, at least you hoped he wouldn’t want to see you like this.

Oh, the realization makes you grow lightheaded, he was probably telling the truth.

“There’s correspondence between them and his family, there’s also a wedding venue booked under their names,” Ajax mumbled, his voice a mere whisper against the sound of your beating heart, he pulls a few files from his coat and hands them to you - your last name is printed on the cover and you quickly open them and browse through the pages, your heart sinks, “I also found money transactions between your family and the Galkin family, about… I’m sorry but I can’t —“

“How much, Ajax?” You feel stiff and your hands start shaking making it hard for you to continue flipping through the countless reports, photographs, records, bank transactions, and letters, your blood feels terribly cold as you try to calm down the whirlwind of feelings that coursed through your body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, not when your family, your parents of all people, have seemed to been able to calmly put a price on not only your love but your person as well.

“About 900,000 Mora,” he mutters, cold blue eyes avoiding your gaze as he continues, “to Uncle and Auntie from Andrei’s family.”

“900,000 Mora…” You feel your heart shatter as Childe brings a comforting hand towards your shoulders, his calloused fingers massaging your tense muscles, “You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’d never lie about such a thing,” he approaches you slowly, Ajax continues speaking as he envelops you with a hug soon after removing the papers from your trembling hands,“this pains me as much as it pains you.”

All of this was true, it’d taken him a long time to gather it all, but the reality was simple and cruel;

your parents had begun arranging for your marriage to an older Fatui soldier for after his retirement.

“Why… why would they do this?” You mutter, feeling sorrow slowly fill your lungs up - making it harder to breathe comfortably, “H-how could they? How could they? Why… Ajax, w-why?”

You felt like an idiot, just minutes ago you’d naively thought you may be getting proposed to by your childhood lover, a childish and hopelessly romantic thought, but now you’re sitting in your living room, on the verge of a breakdown as you tried to think of why on earth your parents would be willing to accept such an offer on your behalf, why they’d use you - their daughter - for Mora.

“Shhh, it’s okay, let it out,” he brings your head into his shoulder, caressing your back in a soothing manner, “it must feel horrible, I’m sure.”

And so you sit there, sobbing into your old friend as you try and process the information presented in front of you. It takes you a good couple of minutes to calm down, by then you two have once again sat down on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” You bury your face into your hands, your body shook as you thought about having to confront your parents once they arrived now with the knowledge you had.

It takes Ajax a couple of seconds before he speaks up, he needed to make it seem like he hadn’t been thinking of this from the moment he’d gotten his hands on the evidence himself; “I have an idea but...”

Your head shoots up in record speed, you could practically feel your neck crack from the sudden move but you didn’t care, you were desperate for a solution - no matter how good or bad it may be; “Oh come on, just spit it out, nothing could be worse than this.”

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches; “M-Marry you?”

He nods, sapphire eyes staring you down like a hunter would prey - you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echos, you can see him stifle a laugh, “Because it’s either that or marrying some lowlife named Andrei who paid to wed you.”

You feel your body stiffen at the harsh words, they were true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear. You avoid looking him in the eyes, your hands anxiously twiddle each other.

“… and what if you’re wrong?”

“What?” He asks as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“What if my parents aren’t marrying me off…”

“Darling,” Ajax laughs but his eyes didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, “are you doubting me? I gave you evidence, it’s right there.”

“Not necessarily,” you look away, you couldn’t help but wonder why you needed to explain yourself, “but, come on, I can’t accept this, it’s too sudden and mom and dad, t-they’d never do this to me, right? I’m their daughter, you know? They love me, they said they did and you don’t do this if you love someone, right?. So… so w-what if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s no other interpretation that makes sense of what we’ve both seen. Why would I lie to you about this? Come on, love, look at me, do I look like I’m enjoying this?” He questions you, “Look at me, come on, listen to me, if it were up to me,” he grabs your chin when you refuse to meet his gaze, his dark blue eyes stare deeply into your soul; they don’t shine the way the once used to, “I would have asked them for their blessing and proposed to you in the plaza, I would have had a ring ordered from Liyue costume made for you, I’d organize for their to be flowers of every color imaginable, even arrange food and music too, there would be hundreds onlookers who’d die to experience a fraction of the joy we would be feeling, I would have invited my family and yours, I’d have you wearing a custom dress, you’d be the happiest woman in Teyvat if I’d have my way… but look where we are instead, can’t you see? This isn’t what I wanted for us, this isn’t what I wanted for you, but we still have time, we can still fix it. But before that first, you have to believe me and get it through your head; this is who they are, this is what they’ve done, your parents don’t love you any more.”

“…” You can only look at him in shock as you feel tears swell in your eyes because it was not far fetched to say that the last few months your family had been distant, that they’d begun to act strange, and that you’d been short on cash for Tsaritsa knows how long, it hurt because a part of you felt like this was plausible. Because it was true, you were the youngest and that you didn’t exactly pull your weight the same way your siblings did, it was true you’d been more of a casualty in your family’s life but that didn’t mean they’d sell you off. No, they had treated you with love and kindness, they’d been there for every big step in your life, they loved you… right? They’d never do this to you, they would never accept Mora in exchange for your hand in marriage. They would never trade their love for you for some Money… right?

Maybe their love was ensuring you had a better future, one where your lover took care of you even if you didn’t exactly choose them, it was true your love life had been awfully stale, that the only person you’d ever been interested in who had also liked you back was in the army, and that you were never quite able to secure a full time job, it was always part-time and you were always booked the least compared to your coworkers. It was true you didn’t have many friends, most of the people your age had moved away by now, you were the only one of your siblings who wasn’t married or dating someone, out of all of your siblings you were the only one who seemed to remain the same no matter how many years passed. Maybe it was exactly what this was, a misunderstood, misplaced, and ill-fitting way of showing their love; but maybe you hated the thought this was their way of expressing it more than you were moved they’d tried at all.

“Shhh, my love,” you didn’t quite catch when Ajax had started wiping your tears away nor when he had managed to get so close, but at that moment – the moment where your whole life felt so uncertain and shaken – you were willing to ignore it all, “it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking… My offer still stands, you can still marry me.”

“And then what?” You sobbed, holding his gloved hands tightly against your cheek, “What am I going to do after that?”

“You’ll move in with me,” he responds matter of factly yet his tone is still soft, as if he feared speaking too loudly would scare you away, “and we’ll tell them together and you’ll make your bags and we’ll be on our way away from all of this mess. Please listen to me, sweetheart, as of right now, I’m the only choice for you – it won’t be bad at all, it’ll be lovely in fact, don’t you want that?”

“…”

“Please, please trust me, I only want what’s best for you,” he continues, ignoring your silence and instead continuing to caress your skin, “I’ve worked with Andrei, he’s no good, he’s older and cranky, he’s always in a bad mood, he won’t satisfy you, and I don’t want you to be miserable, I mean look at you, is this what you want? Hear me out and put trust in me, you won’t regret it; I’ll get you out of this, I promise.”

“But…”

“I love you and I know you love me,” he whispered, drawing closer to you, his voice low as he slowly leans into your lips, he stops right before they can touch his own, “and I’m sure you’ll grow to love this too.”

There’s a silence as you let your options cross your head, you feel yourself grow overwhelmed, being struck with grief and regret in such strong waves you have no choice but to simply give in to the only secure stone you currently see in the storm that was brewing in your mind.

He loved you, he said so himself, and he’d protect you, he’d promised. You could trust him, you had to trust him; you had no one else.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.” He boasts, his face – which is now close enough for you to smell the mint in his breath – breaks into a smile before he’s leaning into your face to kiss you; You reciprocate the action and close your eyes, secretly hoping that today was but a nightmare.

You feel his gloved hands wander around your body, the leather-like material is smooth as his skilled digits play around. There’s barely any time to breathe as he continues kissing you until you grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen entering your lungs.

You had always liked Ajax, always dreamed of marrying him, but as your dreams were coming true you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the circumstances that brought it up.

“Darling,” he moans, as he finally parts himself from your abused lips, “you’re not kissing back, don’t tell me you –“

“Ajax,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper as you desperately try to dive into his eyes, seeking an answer, “why are you doing this?”

The question spoke for itself, no further clarification was needed; why had he come? Why had he revealed your parents’ plans? Was it even as awful as he made it seem? Why did he care? Why now? Did he really want to marry you or did he just feel responsible for you? Why did he bring himself into this mess? Why you, why him, why, why, why, why? Simply; why?

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you’d heard, you still struggled to grasp the idea that your parents would even think of giving your hand away for Mora, and yet the intensity in his voice, the anger in his tone as he relayed the information he’d gathered could have convinced anyone, you doubted he’d lie about something as severe. If this was the truth, it’d been revealed to you too quickly, you’d been expected to get over it too soon, one moment you find out your parents were getting rid of you and your trust in the most materialistic of ways and the next you’ve been proposed to by a man you hadn’t seen in person for over half a decade. You can’t help but wonder if you said yes because you loved him or because you were desperate, for what - you didn’t know.

“Because I love you,” he speaks, his dull eyes finding yours and you wonder if they’d always lacked light, “I love you… and I’m not letting anyone get in my- our way.”

In his head, this was the only way to have you, this was the only way to love you, he was going to save you.

He doesn’t stop to wait for your response before he’s picked you up with ease, years of training and hard work evident by how nonchalantly he walks around your house and goes up the stairs, ignoring all the other rooms and picking up the pace the closer you got to the destination; you were going to your bedroom, you realize, the one you’d been occupying since you were a child. You never thought your house to be small but the speed in which he was walking made you aware of how short the distance between your bedroom and living room was.

“Ajax, what are you doing?” You whimper, you hold on tightly to the ginger, you’re so close you can smell his cologne, afraid he’d let you do if you let up even for a second.

“I’ll show you,” he continued down the hall, there’s an edge to his voice that gives you a chill, he sounded almost angry but with whom you did not know, “I’ll show you why I’m doing this.”

You two finally make your way to your bedroom where he kicks the door open and plops you, quite unceremoniously, down onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes and wiggles his heavy coat off before climbing the bed with you, he tugs you around until you’re below him.

“You’re doing all of this too fast, calm down,” you argue, pain and sorrow still evident in your voice and it hurts his soul to hear it, “you don’t have to prove me anything, I…”

“Everything I’ve said is true, love,” the red-head insists, “and I’m doing this equally for me as I’m doing it for you.”

You don’t respond, instead you opt to look away; his gaze was becoming too intense and it was making you feel funny in ways you hadn’t felt before.

“Look at me,” his hands find your jaw and he redirects your gaze forcefully, “you’ve already said yes, unless… don’t tell me you,” his eyes darken as they narrowed, an almost animalistic look took over his features, “you lied and you don’t want to marry me.”

“I… I do, I’ve always wanted to, but,” It’s embarrassing to admit but you do so anyway in fear of creating a misunderstanding between the two of you, everything was going so fast you were struggling to keep up, “but… is this really how you want to do it?”

You were certain you could take things slower, maybe wait for your parents to come home and talk to them, you didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, was this healthy? Was this okay?

“Yes,” it seems like he can sense your hesitation so he continues, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His words held so much certainty you almost feel stupid for even questioning him, he drew near your lips once more before engulfing your mouth in a kiss, this time with much more vigor than before.

His teeth nip at your lips, begging for entry and you shyly grant it, slowly parting your mouth open. It’s all so messy as you feel his tongue enter your mouth, the muscle seemingly had a life of its own as it mapped your mouth, teeth clashed against each other as if he were desperate to dominate you.

His hands find your waist and insists on pushing you further into the bed, molding your body into the mattress, as he rubs your sides with slow, sensual movements that light your body ablaze. The contrast between the continuous attacks on your lips and the soft stroking of your body left you dizzy, he handled you as if you were made of porcelain and yet ravaged you like a beast when granted access.

You unknowingly whine as your lips finally part, taking a deep breath of air in the process, a thin strip of saliva connected you both, a lewd indicator of the passion Ajax wished to imprint on you. You’re both panting, clearly riled up from the heated kiss, but the man on top of you insisted on letting his hands work their way through you. Your eyes trail downwards where his gloved digits traced the shape of your body, the way they glide across your curves and dips was hypnotizing, and you miss the way a smirk overtakes his features as he realizes how tightly he’s got you wrapped around those very same fingers.

You feel his breath before you hear his words; “Can I take this off?”

His voice is barely above a whisper yet his question rings around the room like a scream, you feel yourself grow hot under your clothes; the same ones he’d just asked to remove off of you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer him, still slightly hesitant to continue going, you can feel your cheeks heat up into a burning mess and you’re scared that if you speak you’ll make a fool of yourself, so instead you nod slowly, trying to calm your racing mind, moving your eyes elsewhere in hopes you wouldn’t have to see the smug look his face was sure to take.

However, he’s quick to catch your face and redirect your gaze back to himself; “Thank you.”

You let him pick you from the bed to fiddle with the claps on the back of your dress, his fingers are swift in figuring out how to free you from your outer layers, it’s almost amazing how quickly he’s able to take your clothes off until you’re clad in your modest undergarments.

Due to Snezhnaya’s unforgiving winters you often layered multiple articles of clothing and prioritized warmth over aesthetics, the thought your underwear might be underwhelming doesn’t cross your mind until you’re left with your thigh-length woolen socks and plain bra and panties. You wonder if maybe the sight would be disappointing for a man as well traveled as Childe, he’s probably seen much more appealing bodies and clothes during his travels, but that idea goes as quickly as it comes when you finally see his reaction to your partially bare body.

Even though he still wore multiple layers, you could see the way his chest had begun to fall and rise unsteadily, his cheeks have taken a feverish glow, and his breath has become noticeably ragged, the hands that held the clothes he’d recently taken off your body were clearly shaking, his fists tightened their grip on the soft fabrics of your garments until they wrinkled. His eyes never left you, even as they traveled through your body, mapping out every nook and cranny he so desperately wanted to mark and savor, he didn’t dare let his gaze wander as if afraid the minute he did you’d disappear and he’d wake up in his office, cold and alone.

“Hah…” Ajax lets out a soft moan as he takes in the sight in front of him, he feels weak and bothered as he watched your breasts rise and fall as you breathed, he lets his eyes go downwards until he’s face to face with your covered pussy and he feels his underwear slowly moisten as he catches sight of a small wet patch that had formed in your panties.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You mumble into your arms, your body instinctively tries to hide itself but your friend doesn't allow it. The minute he feels your legs try to bundle together he slots himself in between them and throws your clothes away so he can fully grasp and force them apart.

There’s silence as you both stare at each other, waiting for one of you to make the first move and fully pass the point of no return.

Surprisingly, this time it’s you who grows impatient and drags the ginger down to meet your hungry lips.

Maybe it’s because right now, Ajax felt like the only person who cared about you and you felt desperate to feel comforted, you felt betrayed and hurt and you craved to be reminded you were loved. It wasn’t healthy and a part of you felt guilty, like you were using him for momentary comfort, as if you’d forced him to come and offer his hand in marriage, if you were smarter and stronger maybe you would’ve realized what was going on and could have stopped it. But he’d said he loved you, right? You loved him, you knew you did and he’d gone and declared his love for you first, even when you were kids he was always dedicated to reminding you of his adoration, but your parents said that too and where did that lead to? He wasn’t doing this out of feeling obligated to care for you, was he?

Maybe this was a mistake, you probably should not be initiating sex with a man you haven’t seen in person in years after he came to tell you your parent had sold you off to marry some rich old, gross soldier, you instead should have sat down and talked for longer, tried figuring out what was going on and perhaps find a solution that didn’t include you marrying your childhood sweetheart, not out of love but out of fear of being forced into an arranged marriage with a stranger. But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t do that, you let yourself be dragged along by his passion and desperation, you now laid in bed making out with Ajax as you desperately tried to push the thoughts of self-doubt and disgust away.

You try to focus on the present without thinking of the past nor the future; The almost one million Mora your parents had pocketed didn’t mean anything, there was no Andrei Galkin, Ajax had never left you, the Fatui didn’t exist, there hadn’t been any betrayal or hurt feelings, you were safe and you were free, there was nothing. In this room, at least for this moment, all that existed was you and Tartaglia.

His shirt is a barrier between your greedy hands and his naked body that’s becoming increasingly annoying as you parted your lips to grant him access to your all of mouth, which he gladly accepts as your tongues caress each other in a sloppy manner, you feel your teeth sometimes clash with his own but you’re too focused on tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off with the least amount of space between you both to care. They could rip, you didn’t care, you wanted to feel his body and warmth, you needed to feel alive.

Your body is starting to feel tingly, your nipples feel hard against your bra and your lower region becomes needy. You want him to touch you more but his hands are busy fiddling with your hips and waist, alternating between the two spots as he caresses and pinches your skin.

You both seem hesitant to let each other go even if it’s for something as necessary as catching your breaths, but even if things seemed to have slowed down it didn’t mean something isn't happening.

“Ajax,” your voice is soft and breathless, you feel your lungs beg you to not speak, “take ‘em off, wanna touch you…”

You gesture at his clothes, slowly running a finger around his chest and stopping at - where you guessed - his nipple was and pressing down hard.

A deep grunt of approval escaped the man’s lips at the feeling and it took him a second to nod, busy trying not to focus too much on the way he felt his cock throbbing, and back off to make way for him to take his clothes off. Childe refuses to completely climb off you, instead leaning backwards to unbutton his shirt and click off the harness he wore, his coat falling behind is his figure, and his shoes long since thrown elsewhere, his pink nipples are clearly sensitive as his eyes shut off tightly as his clothes graze them, his whole body felt on fire - as if your mere presence were an aphrodisiac to the man. Next is his pants and socks and he does his very best to be as quick as humanly possible, they’re all off in record speed and he’s soon only wearing his underwear.

The minute he’s done, he’s thrown himself back onto you as if trying to make up for the few seconds he’d parted from you.

You’re flustered as you finally feel his skin freely come in contact with yours, as if the situation slowly began sinking in just then. Not to mention, you’d caught sight of his raging boner through the thin layer of fabric that constituted his undergarments. It looked big and thick and you wondered, if you even reached that point, if it was even possible to feel good from such a thing pounding on your hole, it looked like it’d hurt more than anything. But a greedy part of you was desperate to find out how it’d feel to have all of him inside of you, to have his fat tip caressing the deepest corners of your body, painting your gummy insides white.

This time, you both skip the kissing and go straight to touching each other, this time more shamelessly and with less hesitance. Your hands find his neck and you pull his head into the crook of your neck where he dedicates his time to litter kisses across the area, you let your hands wander across his shoulders and neck, softly scratching the skin under your nails whenever he kisses a particularly sensitive spot. On the other hand, Ajax let his hands travel across your chest and cup your breasts, he molds the flesh like a stress ball, tightening his grip and pulling at them like they were toys. The feeling of your bra coming into contact with your hardening nipples makes you whimper and moan while your body contorts in an attempt to meld deeper with the man on top of you.

Your movements are restricted and awkward as you were currently caged between the bed and him, but you do your best to communicate your growing neediness.

“A-Ajax, mhmm~!” You gasp, his teeth gnaw at a spot in your neck that has a shot of neediness reaching your privates in electrifying waves, “… more, I wan’ more…”

You can feel his lips curve into a smirk as he hears the desperation in your voice but he’s not better at concealing the very obvious way your words affected him; “My dove wants more? Hah—haha, a-aren’t you such a cute ‘nd needy little thing.”

You huff slightly at his teasing words but you can’t deny that the way he addressed you as “his” made you grow increasingly horny. He seems to hear your soft complaint and finally parts with your neck, which was now littered with hickies and love bites, to allow himself to gaze deeply into your eyes.

You could never deny that Ajax’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue you’d ever seen, they resemble sapphires and noctilucous jade but with less shine. When you both were younger you’d spend hours gazing upon them, admiring the intensity they held. Now, however, you can’t say you aren’t slightly intimidated as he gazes at you like a predator. His hands leave your body and you’re immediately missing the warmth they provided you, in fact, you’re about to complain and ask him to touch you again when he suddenly cups your clothed pussy with his hand.

His hand is large, his fingers are long and the palm is in no way small, which meant most - if not all - of your cunt was now being held in one of his hands. His thumb is hovering over your clit and you gasp as you feel him tighten his hold and trace his fingers across your slit and up to your sensitive nub.

You squirm, letting your bottom grind against his hands, slowly building up your pleasure until you’re letting out soft moans and whines. Tartaglia decides to aid you as he himself works towards getting his member hard and oozing with release by moving his hand across your pussy and grinding on your thighs simultaneously. Your mind grows hot and dazed as you sense your pussy begin to drool, you could feel the way your juices leaked, the wet trail they’d leave and traveled across your your entrance, down your slit and across your thighs, soaking your underwear with release; you wondered if Ajax could feel your excitement too.

You could certainly feel him. His cock had long since been hard and leaking precum, you could make out through hazy eyes and desperate movements a wet patch on his boxers. It looked so big constrained against the fabric, you wanted to free his cock and feel it inside your hole, any of them, his balls seemed to hold unceremonious amounts of cum as the wetness kept growing more and more visible to you, you wondered if he’d be willing to come inside of you if you asked.

You both work together, trying to make the other as aroused as possible until someone snapped and began demanding the intercourse you both clearly wanted.

You don’t want to give in, not yet, but he’s begun to tease your slit with his fingertips and you’re growing aggravated from the empty feeling in your cunt. You feel yourself clenching onto nothing, your walls closing desperately trying to find anything to grip onto, you are growing desperate to feel something inside, be it his fingers, his tongue or his cock — you wanted him inside of you, now.

“Ha… hah~” You can feel his tongue hanging from his open mouth, drool escapes his parted lips and coats your breasts, you’re surprised he’s managed to keep himself up for so long, all the training he’d endured paying off and allowing him to mount your thighs and grind his length against your skin, his expression is one of extreme arousal that makes you tense and grow lust-drunk, “T-Tell me… d’ya wanna feel my cock in your pussy yet, darling?”

“…! M—mhk?!” You let out a high pitched whine as a particular stroke of his hands delves momentarily into your clothed hole, you can feel your cum slowly dirty your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, his movements growing erratic, his ginger hair seems darker and less vibrant against his reddened face, “your… your pussy is beggin’ for me!”

“Please…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body still rocks alongside his own as he uses your body to get off and bring you close to a mind-numbing release, your voice wavers as your whole being is shocked from the pleasure Ajax’s hand toying with your clothed cunt brings, your legs twitch and your body keeps contorting and folding.

“Hmm, please what? I need you to tell me,” he mumbles, his voice takes a deep, desperate and animalistic tone as he continues, he takes his fingers and starts to circle your clit with an unimaginable force, “What do you want, huh? If you want me to fuck y-you, you’ll need to use your big girl words. Say; “I want my husband’s cock inside of me”, come on, ask for y-your husband’s cock…!”

“A~Ajax…! Please-uh…” Your body begins to hurt, your very own genitals seem to be burning in fire as you desperately try to soothe the ache in your womb and clit. You begin to rut against his hands at an embarrassing, almost objectifying, pace, absolutely desperate to cum and lift the cloud of lust that seemed to haunt you from the moment Ajax laid your body on your mattress.

“That’s not who I am,” he mumbles into your skin, his teeth beginning to bite and mark the flesh of your breast, “I’m y-your husband now, right? So, ask for it properly… hah~ won’t you?”

“… want my h-husband’s cock, I… inside of me, please,” you whine between heavy breaths, “I… want to fuck my—hah… h-husband…”

The moan that leaves his lips is loud and primal, his whole body shudders as he hears your plea. He didn’t think he could get any harder and yet hearing your shaky voice ask for him sends a rush of blood through his body and straight to his dick.

“Ahaha… that’s right, isn’t it? I-I’m your husband now,” an unsettling grin starts to form on his face, one that, if you weren’t so desperate and vulnerable, would probably have sent a shiver down your spine; it was an expression that resembled his face after ending a powerful opponent, one that meant victory was his, that he’d won, it was the face many people would see before departing the realm of the living, one of pure, unhinged bliss that could only be understood by a man such as himself, “I’m your husband, your husband… a-ah! Ha-ah, that means… hah, that means it’s my duty to fuck you, to make you feel good, a good husband makes love to his spouse, right? S-so as your husband, I get to be inside of you… a-and make you cum lots. Yeah, I… I’m going to be the best husband, you’ll feel good too… So be a good wife and take all of my love, ‘kay?”

During his incoherent rambling, which you barely could understand, he works to rid you of your underwear with desperate movements. His hands pull at the fabric with enough force that they tear, allowing him to rip the fabric off your hips and discard it on the floor. The cool air in your room hits your lower end and makes you shiver, your body had been previously engulfed by Childe’s warmth, the feeling of his own heating body and rapid blood circulation had sheltered you from the freezing temperature outside of the sinful haven between your bodies. The difference in temperature and its effect on you seems to have been noticed by your partner, who looks around the room trying to find a solution.

You want to hurry him up, tell him you didn’t mind the cold, that you just wanted to feel him inside you for the first time, but before you know it he’s pulling something from behind; his white coat soon is back on his shoulders, lazily throw on, barely holding up as he quickly pulls his underwear off. He’s quick and precise, never wasting a moment as he adjusts himself on top of you once more, this time with his bare cock leaking on your stomach.

“I’ll heat you up… inside and out, hah…” He mumbles, adjusting the coat so it covers both of you, the long, heavy material immediately worked wonders as your body regained its warmth.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, you’re both trembling as he slowly lowers his pelvis to meet your own. You were right, he was big and he was long and thick, but he made sure to go slowly as he inserted two fingers to stretch you out in preparation.

Your slick facilitates the intrusion, there’s not much pain as he opens and closes his fingers, curling and extending them, as if trying to gauge how far you could stretch. His cheeks are a bright red, sweat runs through his forehead as he feels your body accommodate the feeling of his fingers. Ajax was big, always taller than most in your village, and his time in the Fatui had definitely contributed to his size – his shoulders were broad, his chest chiseled, and his fingers, the ones that slowly danced inside your pussy, were long and calloused. This was your first time feeling something other than your own hands and Ajax was making sure to show you all the places you could have never reached on your own.

You don’t even realize you’d begun panting, soft whines and moans had been leaving your lips forma while now, noises that only served to encourage Ajax further. But he had to stop, he needed you both to cum together as one. Your first time together had to be romantic like that, both of you climaxing together and coming undone at the same time.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and disappointment that follows the feeling of his fingers leaving your body, you’re about to complain when you see him bring his fingers to his lips to lap at the slick that had stuck to them. You’re mesmerized at the lewd image, gazing hopelessly at the way his face melted into one of pure pleasure as he tasted you. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean, his tongue lapping at the cum.

You catch his eyes and they soften, a lovestruck look taking over his features, you nod and open your legs wider than before; encouraging him to finally fuck you. He positions himself outside of your opening, making sure you grasp your legs and pull them as wide apart as he physically could without hurting you.

Even with the previous preparation, your breath is knocked out of your lungs as his tip slowly makes its way through your slit, past the muscles and finally inside your gummy walls.

He uses his arms to adjust his body, making sure to be as careful as possible as to not hurt you. This was your first time making love to each other, and he’d be damned if he were the one to cause you pain.

He gives you a second before pushing the rest in, he’s still slow, attempting to coax your body into adjusting to the feeling of being so full. His blue eyes are closed, his breath is heavy and you can feel the bed shake as he tries to control himself, you’re not faring much better, your head felt light as all your body could seemingly concentrate on was the feeling between your legs, your body was heating up and you could feel the warmth radiate off your skin.

You know he’s fully sheathed himself when you feel the soft “thud” of his balls hitting your ass, you’ve become hyper aware of the proximity and situation you’re in as his cock begins to throb inside of your pussy, his head comes to rest on the crook of your neck as you both adjust to the feeling of each other's body.

A moment passes, your walls that had previously been gripping Ajax like a lifeline slowly weaken, finally allowing both of you to relax and begin to experiment.

“I-I’ll start…” He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as if feeling shy, he begins to move around as if to grip the bed’s headboard, all while still inside you, his arms allowing him to cover your body from the world.

As you look up, you realize how he’s become all you see, his imposing frame and coat acting as a curtain blocking the outside from entering your view. Your heart feels heavy but you try and pay it no mind.

The movements are slow and clumsy at first, his cock never truly leaves your warmth fully, his tip always kept inside of your cunt - one way or another. The feeling is strange, you’re not used to the way his length would gaze at your walls or the feeling of the veins on his dick caressing spots inside of you that made you gasp and curl your toes. It’s new and it takes some adjusting before you begin to rock your own hips to meet his, suddenly it begins to feel good, really good in fact. There was something about the stretch, maybe it was the feeling of being so full, the way his cock curved and hit spongy spots in your pussy becomes addicting, or maybe it was the fat vein that decorated the underside of his cock, but it wasn’t long until you’re trying to entice a faster, tougher pace.

He takes his time teasing and easing you into the rhythm of sex, he wouldn’t tell you, but a part of him was scared that if he picked up his pace he wouldn’t be able to stop until you were leaking his cum - not to mention, he wasn’t sure he’d last long if he started to fuck you even faster. The feeling of your walls gripping him was divine, there are moments his thrusts grow unsteady and out of sync, as if his body was trying to take control and allow itself to set the animalistic pace he so desperately wanted, it’s these exact moments where his patience is tested, where he wants nothing more than to pick up your body and use it as a toy to fill with his semen.

“I wan’ more,'' you moan and he freezes as he feels your hips pathetically lift up to meet his heated thrust, your lower region coming up and rolling, rocking, and sloppily caressing his own pelvis in an attempt to suck him deeper into your sex, this was the first time you’d ever experienced such fullness and pleasure, your mind was numb and you’d forgotten all about previous sorrows, you truly wanted to feel more and more until all you could think of was Ajax’s cock and feeling good, “… wan’na feel my… my husband’s c-cock…?!”

At the title, the ginger truly can’t help the way his hips basically crash into yours, it was purely instinctual – just the sound of your calling him yours and acknowledging him as your husband, even if you’d only gotten engaged less than an hour ago, was enough to drive him mad with lust. He feels his head grow dizzy as thoughts of breeding you and claiming you as his take over. It’s as if a switch is turned on because from that moment onwards the atmosphere changed completely.

His previously considerate and soft strokes become harsh and rapid, you can feel your bed move rhythmically with his thrusts, your whole body jolts as he begins to fuck you with the sole goal of filling you so deeply your body was to be conditioned to respond lewdly to his mere presence. They’re deeper too as he now focused on feeling and claiming as much of your hole as possible, it’s impossible not to feel the way his cock imprinted itself deeply inside your body.

Your hands are desperate to grasp onto something, so you clutch at the sheets under you as tightly as possible, your body feels hot and heavy; your legs twitch and you're left gasping as Childe grabs your hips to adjust your position. You’re still lying down but your back arches itself to allow him easy access to your bottom, it’s surprising how easily he’s able to manhandle your body while never quite pulling out, always making sure to insert himself as quickly as he exited, never truly pulling out all of his dick.

The new position allows for him to hurry his pace, you’re soon moving like a rag doll with no control over your limbs. You’re left a moaning, whining mess as your brain struggles to process the waves of pleasure that bloomed from deep inside your pussy.

You feel your heart beating and you can almost hear the sound of your slick pouring out and lubricating your walls, making it increasingly easy to continue the Fatui’s pounding of your cunt. You’re not too sure if you’re even able to talk, the thought of forming a coherent sentence felt farfetched, all that leaves your lips are whines, sounds of pure pleasure and bliss that sound like an orchestra to Ajax.

He’s not doing much better, his vocabulary seems to have been reduced to declarations of ownership over you, boundless love, and immense pleasure. Your name soon becomes the only coherent sound leaving his lips as he lets his head fall back, his body almost working on autopilot as he allows his hips to ram inside you while his hands focus on teasing your nipples and forcing you to face his reddening face. His chest shines with sweat as he makes sure to fill the room with the sound of your skin meeting him and the growing wet mess between your merging bodies.

You’re both soon leaking arousal, Ajax’s cock starts to slowly redden and grow inside of you as he approaches orgasm, drops of precum start to form on the tip, and your torso starts to heat up as it feels heavier the better you feel; your cum is soon coating his dick white, a clear indicator he’d been inside your drooling cunt. You let go of the sheets and bring a hand to your clit, desperate to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ah-! Just like that,” Ajax exclaims, lurching forward as he feels your walls tighten around his cock, “tighten around me like that, fu–uck! I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your pussy, gonna shoot my cum inside you… Haha–hah! You’re… you’re gonna be full with my cum, are you ready?”

You nod mindlessly, too busy playing with your clit and pressing kisses into Ajax’s skin. The feeling of being filled by your childhood sweetheart was intoxicating, it left you an overstimulated mess, moaning and whining as you gripped the man’s shoulders to bring him closer to you.

You couldn’t tell who came first, only that your final push was the feeling of Childe’s lips on yours. Maybe it’s the desperation you felt radiating off him as his tongue caressed your own, the way his hands tighten around your body as he begins unloading his cum begins seeping into your pussy and deep inside your body. You’re a shaking mess as you continue riding your orgasm on his dick, prolonging the pleasurable feeling by rocking your hips into his in an almost shy manner, it’s addicting and you’re left gasping and moaning for more. On the other hand, Ajax was trembling on top of you, his arms seemingly giving out as he collapsed into your body, allowing his head to rest beside your own on your pillows while his cock throbbed and painted your insides with his cum. He gives a few weak thrusts, as if making sure that his balls have been thoroughly emptied, before he looks over at your panting face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, desperately trying to calm your heart down into a stable rhythm, while your body twitches in a post-orgasm afterglow. You’re sweating, your eyes shut tight as you feel your pussy swell around Ajax’s dick, which was very much still inside you, and grow sensitive. Even in this state, where you’re too shaken to do anything other than breathe and try to relax your body, he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

His hand, which trembled ever so slightly, travels to find yours and intertwine your fingers together. He subconsciously traces your ring-finger, trying to estimate your size, you’d accepted his proposal, going as far as acknowledging him as your husband, it was now his responsibility to find a suitable ring for you, one worthy of resting on your fingers.

He smiles, cuddling deep into your bare skin, pressing his softening cock deeper into you, which earns him a soft whine from you, essentially plugging his semen inside your pussy.

“… I love you, Ajax.” You mumble, eyes still closed shut, your voice drowsy and far away as exhaustion slowly catches up to you. Today had been hard on you, physically and mentally, you’d learnt more than you’d wished to have known, your relationship with those around you now forever changed; you’d agreed to marry your childhood friend in response to your parents’ betrayal, you’d given up your virginity to him and now laid in bed, struggling to know if you’d made the right decisions. An inner turmoil was growing inside you, a storm of emotions you were not ready to deal with, but right now, as you lay beneath the man who’d promised to save you, you decide to rest and let him take care of it, for now. Your breathing slows down, your body finally succumbing to sleep.

You’re too tired to hear the sound of the front door unlocking, your mother’s voice booming across the house as she calls out for you as she ushers your father and guests inside your family house. Ajax makes no move to leave your bed or even remove himself from inside of you, not even as he recognizes the distinct sound of footsteps that belonged to your parents moving around downstairs, grinnin softly as he hears your mother call out for you again, while your father talked to someone and merrily laughed, joking around, easing the tension of the first meeting between two people set up in an arranged marriage – where only one of them knew.

He can hear your parents talking, making an excuse at where you were, he can hear your mother climb up the stairs, he can hear her getting closer to your room.

What a lousy move, he thought to himself, to ambush you one day and try to dump the news on top of you like this, you didn’t even seem aware of guests coming over to your home at all, he frowned; he had expected more of uncle and auntie. Alas, he’d long since given up on them, he just hopes your mother doesn’t scream too loudly when she sees you two in bed together.

He’d hate for you to wake up to such an awful shriek.

There’s a knock on your door, Ajax smiles but makes no move to answer, and then another as your mother calls out your name. She sighs before threatening to open the door, Ajax has to stifle a giggle, pressing his lips into your shoulder to not let out any noise, too afraid to ruin the surprise for his soon to be mother-in-law, she hears no response, she clearly feels agitated and annoyed, he can hear it the way she knocks once more with a stern calling of your name.

There’s a second of silence before the door is swung open.

Ajax looks over to your mother, his coat covering both your naked forms enough that a semblance of modesty is kept but not enough that what happened between the two of you was misunderstood, it would be clear to anyone who could walk in, and he smiles, leaning his body into your own, further embracing you and pushing your sleeping face into his chest, he rolls over as a playful wave is sent her way, she stands frozen in place. Your bottom halves are still covered by the oversized coat, but the bruises and bites that litter your bodies are enough to paint a picture, his hand moves to caress your body, a smug smile takes over his features as he watches your mother try to come up with the right words to say.

“Hello, ma’am,” his tone is playful but the look on his face is one of pure venom, she looks beyond flustered but isn’t able to say a word; too shaken by the sight, the combination of her daughter and a man in bed together and the Harbinger’s insignia that seemed to shine with even the smallest movements from the ginger was enough to send her stumbling back, “it’s been a while, we have a lot to catch up on, huh?”

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lijojo · 10 months

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genshin sugar daddies

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)

tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni

mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.

on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.

periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.

then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.

even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.

when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.

you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.

"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."

he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.

"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."

you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.

tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.

or a dollar.

childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.

"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."

you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."

you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.

"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"

"childe!" you chide.

he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.

he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.

you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.

the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.

"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"

of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.

but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.

"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.

it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.

"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"

the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"

"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.

the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.

"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."

his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."

your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.

"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"

he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."

wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.

out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.

you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.

even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.

you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.

"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"

it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."

"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."

his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."

his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"

he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.

"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."

"kazu—"

"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"

"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"

there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."

after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.

after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.

on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.

you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.

his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.

except when spring comes.

when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.

you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.

the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.

as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.

"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"

some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.

and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.

then the process starts all over again.

when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.

"why won't you leave them all for me?"

you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."

his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."

his words make you freeze a bit.

you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.

so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."

as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.

you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.

at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.

when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.

when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.

and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.

sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.

in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.

after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:

outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.

somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.

outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.

the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.

his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.

your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.

you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.

"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."

he smiles.

"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."

saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.

on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.

today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.

it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.

ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.

"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.

"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."

he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."

you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.

at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.

somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.

but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.

instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.

you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.

when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.

instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.

in other words, he sees you.

at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.

conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.

kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.

at least, that's how you used to be.

you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.

and that's not the only thing that's changed.

the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.

but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.

vulnerable.

after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.

although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.

his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.

the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.

instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.

but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.

you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.

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hunnieknight · 5 months

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Safety!

{Debuted} Harbingers driving with you!

Modern AU, can be seen as platonic or romantic, gn!reader, Scara can be seen as Wanderer (vice versa)

A/N : God, don't ask why Scara/Wanwan is so detailed in colouring.

Go ahead make headcanon/blurb based on this!

----

Childe

He is a big brother, he is used to strap his younger siblings to the car seat.

And he probably has sensory sensitivity with the beeping noises from the car whenever a safety belt isn't on.

NUMBER ONE IS SAFETY!! SEATBELT ON!!

----

Scaramouche/Wanderer

He prefers riding bike (like an asian man he is) because he doesn't want people to hitch a ride with him.

He doesn't care, he just don't want to be sued if something happen to you (a lil bit of caring in his own way.)

Don't put stickers on his helmet.

----

Dottore

As a doctor, you could be a free future-to-be cadaver for him.

----

Signora

She has her own personal driver to pick both of you up.

Doesn't really care tbh, because she is also rarely wear seatbelt.

----

Arlecchino

A mum and a dad

She would give you "that look" and count down from 5, and if you didn't put on the seatbelt she will-

"There you go, isn't it that hard to fasten the seatbelt?"

#imaginedraw #harbinger x reader #harbinger x male reader #fatui harbingers #genshin harbingers #childe x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #signora x reader #dottore x gender neutral reader #dottore x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin impact imagines

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kalystatheevil · 6 months

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picture scaramouche bent over, hands tied behind his back, face pressed to a coffee table with you holding him from behind

tw: cursing, cnc, praise, humiliation, dom reader, unhealthy use of ellipses; (amab reader), 18+

you rub your glistening cock between scaramouche's spread asscheeks, almost moaning from the view alone. your precum is already leaking into the cracks, moistening them prettily.

"fuck, scara… what did i tell you, huh?" a sharp slap resounds, and scaramouche's right cheek immediately starts turning pinkish. the boy grits his teeth.

"go to hell you fucking psycho."

"mhhh…" your thumbs leave little indents in the supple skin of his ass. between them, a throbbing hole clenches nervously. "a psycho, am i."

scaramouche moans as you push the tip past the rim. you're sure he didn't mean to, but it still escaped his lips. slowly, you push just the tip in and out, watching intently as the skin spreads around the gland, swallowing it greedily.

"you stretch so beautifully, scara," you coo, a soft blush on your face. "so incredibly beautiful"

"stop— stop looking!" scaramouche growls. "it's—" he gasps loudly when the tip enters him yet again, face already red from all the blood gathering in his head.

"it's what, scara..."

"it's— ugly…"

at this, you click your tongue and stop. "ugly?"

scaramouche becomes angry, deflecting from his quickly rising shame. "yes, ugly. seriously, stop with this stupid game you're playing, i don't need you to act like you're into th—"

you thrust into him, deep and hard. scaramouche's words are lost in a strangled gurgle as his eyes roll back.

"it seems i need to fuck that thought out of you."

with one roll of your hands, you shorten the rope connected to his tied wrists, tugging them upwards. slowly, you start to roll your hips back, watching as the rim catches and slides over your cock. you moan. "aah, scara… you look so, so pretty like this"

"fuck… you… ngh— a-aahn…"

you breathe heavily. "fuck. fuck, scara. you take me so well. look at you, moaning like a slut..."

"shut— shut up. fuck. i'll kill you. i swear i'll fucking kill y— MGH!" you slam back into him. any further protest is drowned by the sound of thighs hitting flesh in sharp slaps as you start pounding into him. harder and harder you thrust back inside, needing to reach deeper, faster, harder.

it doesn't take long for scaramouche to lose his composure. on the surface of the coffee table, he rolls his head almost limply to the side. his eyes are blurry with pleasure, but still he tries to look at you out of the corner of his eye - to make you see exactly what you are doing to him.

you breathe a laugh, panting hard. under scaramouche's mouth, a steadily growing puddle of drool forms. he twitches, legs giving in.

you grab his hips so hard his skin will certainly bruise. scaramouche is not yet allowed to stop taking you. you stare and stare, fucking him until the world starts to tilt, until your cock feels numb from sheer pleasure, until you start twitching so hard that it's visible on the front of scaramouche's stomach—

you cum hard, gasping for air. white stars form in your vision, and you can feel your hands tremble on his soft skin.

"haha…" you laugh, out of breath. under you, scaramouche whimpers quietly.

after a moment, you pull out slowly. a thick line of cum connects the tip of your still slightly twitching cock with scaramouche's warm, fluttering hole. "ahh… fuck. my cum… hahaha… deep… deep inside you…"

scaramouche lets out another whine. his hole clenches before releasing a white drop of liquid. he whimpers, trying to say something.

"mh?" you ask, using your thumb to smear the droplet around the throbbing hole. "speak up, scara…"

amidst his wordless whimpers, you push your thumb inside and laugh again, feeling scaramouche milking it powerlessly.

"i wonder when you came…"

"mmglh…" scaramouche answers. when something warm touches his freely leaking cock, he flinches lightly. a moan tumbles over his lips. with the palm of your hand, you rub the tip of his soft erection.

"or rather… how many times." scaramouche's eyes slowly roll backwards. with a grin, you raise your hand back up and glide your tongue over the palm, humming appreciatively at the taste. "yum ~"

"no…more…" scaramouche finally breathes. "can't…" your arm slings around his belly. with ease, you lift him up. "ahn—"

"no more? no more, scara?"

"no... more..."

"but baby..." you place a soft kiss on his temple.

"we were just getting started."

[formatting shamelessly stolen from scara smut writer @hanxku]

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chococolte · 9 months

Text

☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip.

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point.

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them.

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer.

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force.

You.

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means.

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his.

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you.

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort.

You're home, you whisper.

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them.

Childe breaks.

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #sagau #yandere male #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #yandere childe #sagau childe #self aware childe #genshin cult au #cult au childe

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yandere-romanticaa · 13 days

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⚘ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

m. - "forevermore" typically refers to something that lasts for an indefinite amount of time or for eternity. it implies a sense of permanence or lastingness.

You've ran away from your husband, the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia himself. However, have you truly escaped his grasp?

yandere! tartaglia x fem! reader.

The shimmering rays of bright morning sunlight made the living room come to life as you sat in a classic wooden chair, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. It burned your fingers ever so slightly but you could not be bothered to remove them from the cup.

The pain made you not focus on the massive bouquet of flowers which were placed on your pretty white table.

From the corner of your vision, you could see the card which clung onto the fresh bunch of blooms, the handwriting on it disgustingly elaborate but oh so familiar.

"Blood red roses." The card said.

"I always knew that you fancied roses, and I couldn't resist to get you these specific ones when I saw you looking at them."

Bastard. How he had managed to track you all the way to Mondstatd was beyond your comprehension, but in hindsight, you really should have known better. The Fatui could sneak in anywhere they damn well pleased, be it the hustle and bustle of the city of Mondstatd, to the dirty cracks of the Chasm.

It was only natural that the many agents which were stationed in the city would start to talk upon seeing the wife of a Lord Harbinger so far from home.

You concealed yourself at first, obviously. Most unfortunately, word started to spread like wildfire that you had fled in the dead of night, never to be seen by anyone. And, due to the fact that your husband did not possess a single shred of decency in his body, he proudly showed you off wherever he could.

Just the mere thought of the memory made you shudder.

Your good husband was - is - a wealthy man. He made sure to spoil you in the finest of silks known to man and the endless sea of jewelry which was sent your way, if it were to be sold, could feed an entire army.

Although, he was always particular about your arms. He didn't like seeing anything on them except for the, surprisingly, simple wedding ring he got you.

It was a promise, he had told you.

His eternal promise to you, until the end of time. He would love you, in sickness and in health, there was no force in the universe that could separate him from you.

In a way, he was keeping his promise. He made the trip from the homeland straight to the City of Freedom all on his own.

... He probably didn't even need to hear the reports from anyone of your whereabouts. Knowing him, he tracked you down all on his own, using nothing but his wit and sharp senses.

He was a terrifying man. A man you ought to stay away from, a man who had the blood of countless innocent people on his hand. And yet, those same hands would keep you warm during the cold winter, his soft and pale lips would pepper your body with gentle kisses, making you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Archons, he'd whisper to himself, his breath hot on your neck, making you blush. He would just say whatever came to mind, completely lost in his blind passion.

I want no one else but you - You are my everything - I will make you mine -

Frankly, you did not know how to feel. In those private moments he was less a man and more a lovesick little fool. He could not keep his paws off you, even if he wanted to. As the evening would go on the kisses would evolve into something more, something primal, carnal even. Tongue and teeth would mesh together, leaving a thick string of saliva between him and you, to which he would always let out that darling boyish laugh of his.

You loathed the fact that in those moments, he truly was ethereal, no different than a star.

What made your skin crawl was the effect his touch had on your mind and body. He became something akin to a drug, even now as you felt the sweetness of freedom with your own two hands you still felt the urge to hold something tight at night because your husband had spoiled you rotten with his presence.

Finally, you turned to look at the flowers as the horrible realization dawned on you - you loved him. You loved that man and it was putrid.

You cannot go back. You would not go back to him.

Jumping off a building would be a smarter thing to do.

As you pondered on and on about your predicament, you failed to notice the lingering shadow in your hallway. Deep blue eyes monitored you like a hawk as he toyed with a switchblade he had in his pocket. What should he do with you? He was furious, naturally. You were the last person in the world he wanted discord with. You broke his heart a little when you left and the fact that you didn't even care about his feelings only added insult to injury.

Even so, he could not help but to feel overjoyed by the fact that you hadn't thrown out his gift. He was half expecting you to burn whatever he sent you to the ground, not to mournfully contemplate in deep thought like this.

That was how he knew you loved him. It was crooked and wrong, but he had you. He had you and you didn't even know it. He'd bring down the heavens themselves if it meant that you could feel a fraction of the love he held for you. His lips curled into a sly grin but his heart pounded like clockwork in his chest. This waiting game was so horrible.

But the hunter in him couldn't resist, cornering you like this was just in his nature.

Victory was so close, he could practically taste it. Soon enough, his wife would be in his arms, weeping and apologizing and he would soothe her, like a good husband ought to. Yes, that was how this scenario would play out.

He was too clever to let it happen any other way.

It would be just him and you, perhaps even with a bundle of joy if the Tsaritsa blessed him. Even so, with you here, he had everything he could ever dream of.

Him and you, against the world, standing by each other's side, forevermore.

💋 TAGLIST: @genshinarchives, @saturnalya @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @alatusprinz @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @lakxcpsta @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

This fic was born out of my own pure passion and love for Tartaglia, apologies for the Cringe™ I put you all through.

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yanderehsr · 9 months

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How would yandere Childe, blade, zhongli and Jingyuan punish their darling who repeatedly tried to escape and succeeded once?

Poor little Y/N😔

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapped reader, Violence

Childe: While yes, he does live for the thrill of a good fight and a good chase, he doesn't want that with you. He's wants a domestic life with you where both of you can live happy, the only problem is that he gets jealous easely and chose to kidnap you.

So believe me when I say that Childe does not enjoy having to catch you, when he noticed that you actually managed to escape, he couldn't have ran faster, he never stops running until he sees you again, no matter how many he needs to kill and no matter how many villages is set on fire, he will find you. And when he does he will hug you and apologize.

Why is Childe apologizing? He is just sad that he had to break both of your legs, he didn't want to but he can't have you leaving him again.

"I'm sorry, but this was the best solution, now let me carry you home"

Blade: Oh he is pissed, you are his and you attempt to escape, he can't have that now can he. Just attempted escape is already punished quite harshly with starvation and if you succeeded in escaping then he might have to do something drastic.

It won't take Blade long to hunt you down and when he does catch you he will drag you back home, he will make sure that you can't ever run away again. He is sure you will look just as lovely without your legs.

"Just as I thought, even without them you look just as lovely, now have you learned your lesson"

Zhongli: He gets why you would try to run and he is calm every time, you are not in a relationship and because of his greed he took you, so he doesn't punish you really, that was until he came home to find that you were gone, not trying to escape but gone.

Zhongli may have never panicked as much as he is now, he is out of the door and searching every corner of Liyue until he gets you back and when he does he is as forgiving as always, well he may have chained you down this time, you can never be too cautious.

"I know that you don't like me, but I am sure you will find life much better if you did"

Jing Yuan: Oh how cute you are when you try and run away, as long as you don't succeed he won't punish you, he just finds it adorable, but if you actually escaped, well that is a different story.

There is nowhere you can run from Jing Yuan, it would be a miracle if you even get away from the Luofu, so you can be sure that he will get you back, his punishment is simple. He will place you in a closet, somewhere small where you will feel claustrophobic, you will not be allowed any outside contact not even from Jing Yuan.

And when he can hear you crying, begging to be let out, that you will never try again and that you will accept all his affections, only then will he let you out.

"I am so glad that you won't try again, now how about a hug, I have missed having you in my arms"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere male #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader

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ashersanity · 3 months

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— “Shit, who’s my good boy?”

-> content warning! dub-con?, blood, m top bastard! reader

Ever get that high whenever you ruin a cocky bitch, reducing them to a blubbering mess beneath you as they frantically claw at any nearby surface to steady themselves? Dumb fuck, bitten lips normally quirked up into a smug smirk now oozing fresh droplets of blood running over their chin. The panted sighs that escape them, wheezing and gasping, struggling for any sort of breaths. Just the glassy look in their eyes, the wet eyelashes beaded with tears, freely running down their flushed cheeks. Makes you wanna ruin them, bruised fingers curling deeper through the strands of their hair and using it as leverage to fuck ‘em.

If they’re going to be all bark and no bite, might as well use them like they’re meant to be used, slutty and begging to be stuffed full of your cock. Idly rubbing a rough palm over your throbbing, clothed erection, barely constrained by the constricting fabric holding it back. It’s almost amusing, how the stupid fucker is so helplessly out of it, that they don’t even flinch at the smack of your cockhead, oozing precum against their bloodied lips. With a low curse, prying their mouth apart, experimentally slipping a finger in to drag over their pink tongue. Whorish, instinctively sucking on the pad of your thumb only for it to be replaced by something thicker, hotter insistently nudging against their swollen flesh.

Alright, so you might be the bastard here for even taking advantage of the bitch like this, but after all they’ve done to you. Snarky and bratty, never once listening to your well-intentioned advice, it’s only fair to do as you please with them. Fuck it. Cockhead weeping pre-cum, you shove the entirety of your length inside their mouth, head thrown back at the warm, tight heat snugly wrapped around your fat cock. There’s no gentleness to your action, none of that crap, not after how they’ve acted as you grasp for the back of their head, practically face fucking them. Stifled whimpers slipping into needy whines, curve of their throat rhythmically bobbing in time with each of your heated thrusts. Equivalent of a fucking glory hole, that’s what it is. This stupid, dumb bastard is now all yours and they’re gagging on your cock as though they’ve just been given the taste of it.

— “Fuck, fuck — Haah.. That’s my good fucking bitch. Keep suckin’ like that fer’ me.”

That’s right, balls tightening in need, pulsing cum squirting across their pretty face, burying yourself into the back of their sloppy mouth one last time. Your thick, sticky load dripping from between their lips, struggling to take it all in as you begrudgingly part away from them at last.

— “Make sure to swallow it all, you slut.”

And they do — they do just that, swallowing your thick seed with a faint gulp, dazed off of your fucking cock. Utterly broken.

— “Now that’s my boy.”

whitney, avery, remy, gojo satoru?, suguru geto?, childe?, toji fushiguro?, kaeya alberich?, scaramouche?, reo mikage?, your favorites. shit, i fucking forgot.

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brenbofen · 9 months

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AMAB Dragon Reader with Childe and Zhongli Brainrot

Broadcaster Message - Monster Fucker but I want to be tbe monster.

Notes 🗒️ - Sub Childe, Dom ? Zhongli, Dom AMAB Reader, Dragon Reader and Zhongli, Reader and Zhongli have two dicks, Double Penetration, Threesome, Multiple Orgasms, Cumflation, Praise, Tongue Fucking, Nipple Play, Biting and Scratching, All Childe Receiving, He’s goin through it.

Thinking about Childe between you and Zhongli. Zhongli has Childe’s head in his lap, gently brushing hair out of his face and praising him softly as you pound into him. Zhongli telling Childe how he’s doing such a good job at taking you, Childe so fucked out he can’t even process Zhongli’s words. Both of your dicks stuffed into his tight hole, globs of your cum spilling out with every thrust, your sharp nails digging into his sides to keep him in place as Childe grips onto your horns for some kind of stability.

Imagining how this would even happen, Childe not even knowing you were a dragon, laughing when you suggested having a threesome with Zhongli. He was fully prepared to tease the hell out of you both, but all these thoughts were fully thrown out the window when the time came. Childe’s face burning at the sight of your fat dicks, Zhongli coming up behind him and holding his hips while asking if he was ready.

Next thing he knows your shoving your length into him, just one of your dicks is so big and he can barely handle it, all while Zhongli his kissing him and playing with his sensitive nipples. He’s letting out whimpers and crying as you thrust into him, pressing your fingers in along with your dick, mumbling about how you have to get him ready to take both.

Childe can barely handle one, he can’t be believe you think he could take your other one, your so big and thrusting so harshly into him he feels like he’s going to be ripped into two. While this is happening Zhongli his holding Childe’s hands, saying he knows he could take you, how he’s doing an amazing job, he’s such a pretty thing.

Once you do get your second dick in Childe is screaming, it hurts so much but god it feels so good. Seeing a fat lump in his stomach, watching as it gets bigger and smaller with each of your thrusts, your so deep in him it’s driving Childe mad. His body is littered with hickeys from Zhongli and scratch marks from you, both of your tails wrapped around some part of his body.

Once you’ve had your fill Childe thinks your both done, groaning when you pull out and his stomach practically deflates as your cum spills out of his hole. He doesn’t even process you and Zhongli switching places until you drag your hand through his hair, asking if he’s ready to go again.

Childe staring at Zhongli nestled between his legs, gazing up at him with such a soft look he can’t help but lean back into your lap, nodding slowly, the loudest moan escaping his lips as he feels Zhongli’s tongue press into his hole, legs wrapping around Zhongli’s head as tears fell down his cheeks.

Ohh, he was gonna be here for a long time..

#📺 brenbofen brainrot #writing #childe x reader #sub childe #tartaglia x reader #sub tartaglia #zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe #zhonchi #zhongchi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #male reader #dom male reader #soft dom zhongli #technically #dragon reader #non human reader #sub genshin impact

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huboi · 9 months

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punishment (pt 1/?)

[childe x ftm! reader ft the harbingers]

╰┈➤ childe fucks you in front of the other harbingers as punishment, it seems like you’re enjoying it a bit too much (the guy with the big nose ain’t in this tho cause he’s not hot)

╰┈➤ reader is ftm and refered to as puppy and is called a good boy, slut, whore, cumpdump. it isn’t specified wether reader has yet had top surgery

╰┈➤ readers private’s are refered to as boycunt

╰┈➤ includes : vouyerism, hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cumming inside

╰┈➤ this is my first time writing smut, so pls be nice to me

╰┈➤ 16- and fem aligned dni

the harbingers are currently in an important meeting, as childe put it. and only now have they realised that they are in fact not wasting their time

“aww, look at you, drooling all over the desk like a naughty boy, you’re gonna have to clean this up later you know?” childe cooed, his hips slamming against yours in a rapid pace whilst the harbingers watched in what appeared to be boredom

you could only let out a pathetic whimper in response, trying to avoid direct eye contact with the other harbingers, only to no avail as childe grabbed your hair and forced you to look at them whilst they got themselves off :(

“after I’m done with you... you should definitely help out the others. how does that sound? you’ll be our personal cumpdump” childe grunted out, leaving sloppy kisses onto your neck. in response your cunt clenched around him tightly, causing childe to let out a small whimper of his own.

suddenly, he bit down onto your neck whilst he rutted into your tight heat, an explosion of warmth trickled into your cunny, ajax keeping you plugged up with his cum so it wouldn’t drip out of you.

“w-why didn’t I get to cum?” you whined, childe only tutting in response, “this is a punishment after all, you’re not cumming until you’ve let everyone use you at least once. your boycunt is gonna be leaking by the time we’re finished with you puppy” childe explained, before gently kissing where he bit, slowly taking his cock out from your cunt, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness :(

no need to worry, you won’t be empty for too long :)

content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER

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lijojo · 9 months

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genshin sugar daddies: leaving hickeys on you

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. it’s a bit overwhelming, but you try you’re best to keep each relationship relatively independent from the other. that means no hickeys. except, well, each one of them wants to make you theirs exclusively and they’re not above marking you secretly to send a message to tomorrow’s person. (yandere! possessive! genshin reverse harem x reader) (modern au!)

*if you want more yandere genshin sugar daddy content the introduction is here but this can be a standalone read!

tags: nsfw, dark content, afab reader, fingering, dirty-talk, unprotected sex, dub-con, smut smut smut smut smut

diluc is no stranger to jealousy. you can sense it in the way his eyes constantly beckon for yours. the way he grips tightly onto your waist. he never asks anything more than your gaze on monday evenings. they have to be on him. always. not for a second more are you allowed to look at anything else but him. he’s greedy, always pulling you to look at him once more. naturally, his gaze is always on you.

you feel it drag up and down your back. crawl into the little dip in your neckline to see what’s underneath your clothes.

so the one time, the one time, kaeya’s crafty attempts to leave hickeys on your folds and inner thighs in the midst of eating you out, diluc catches it.

he sees it the moment he peels off your panties. what should’ve been a slow sequence of him sinking his tongue into your pussy is immediately halted at the sight of a very small but noticeable bruise in the juncture between your thighs and your labia minora.

kaeya’s warning.

the change in his demeanor is undeniable. his heavy gaze flits over to your face. intentful. unaware of the hickey, you’re understandably confused.

if diluc’s seen something, he doesn’t tell you. instead, he internalizes the sight. it’s a warning and a challenge.

mine.

he’s quick to grab onto your wrists and pin them above your head. before you can brace yourself, he’s slipped a finger inside you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, but welcome him as he curls his finger towards him, gently brushing against that spongy spot that leaves you breathless.

he chuckles lightly as you roll your eyes back. his thumb presses on your clit, nudging it side to side. “you’re soaking wet,” he mutters, sliding another two fingers inside you. “all for me?”

your hold on the sheets tightens.

he leans closer to your ear. “i can’t wait to smear the remnants of your orgasm on my cock. make it slick enough to slip inside you. make you feel good. we want my darling to feel really good, right?”

you hiss when he starts thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed. desperate. eager to make you spill your affection onto his hands.

“that wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”

you can’t help the moan that leaves you as you approach your climax. “y-yes! yes—ah—diluc!”

his grin looks so unlike him. his thumb starts to draw circles on your clit, going quicker and quicker the more you squirm and moan.

“cum on me. do it for me, princess. cum all over my hand. give me all your everything.”

you can barely understand the undertone in his words. instead, you reach your high. your orgasm pours out of you, onto his beckoning fingers. and instead of letting you go, he continues mercilessly until your left whining for him to stop.

and he does. eventually. he slowly pulls his digits out of your crying cunt. he collects the droplets that trickle out of your lower lips and let’s it drip onto his twitching dick. he runs his hands along his shaft, letting out a shaky groan.

“look how pretty you’ve made me. this is all you, darling.”

he fucks you like it’s he’ll die if he doesn’t. blinded by the mixture of pain and pleasure, you close your eyes and submit to the feeling of overwhelming bliss.

you’re so overwhelmed, that you don’t register how he’s kissing your neck like a man on a mission.

დ

the two of you are in the middle of a normal tuesday brunch when childe sees it. when you turn to accept the menu from the waiter, he can see the slightest marks that you couldn’t hide, even with the most expensive foundation.

you curse internally when you see his eyes narrow in on you. you should’ve known better than to ever believe that diluc would ever follow one of your only rules: no hickeys.

and now childe, notoriously competitive, will feel compelled to have his fill.

you should’ve worn a scarf.

you thought that the position of the hickey, and the slight fadedness your foundation was barely able to provide would’ve been enough. you were wrong.

like a built-in reflex, you smile. “what’s the matter? is there something wrong?”

he gives you a smile, an all-knowing smile as he takes the menu from you. “nothing is wrong at all, girlie. i’m just admiring that new necklace i bought you.”

you’re good at pretending nothing’s wrong, so you fiddle the crystals with your hand. “i love the way it shimmers,” you add, “i love how sparkly you’ve made me.”

if you’ve done anything to settle his displeasure, he doesn’t show it. instead, he averts his eyes to the menu. you know better than to believe that nothing bad will come out tonight.

for the rest of the night, he engages in small talk with you. about the weather. a new store that’s just opened up. some story about some poor guy who borrowed more money than he could ever give back. the thought makes you tighten your grip on your fork.

when you get back to his penthouse, he’s quick to strip you of your luxurious gown and all of it’s accompanied gold accents. when you reach to take off the necklace that decorates your neck, he stops you.

“keep it on,” he whispers, his hand crawling up your thigh to grip your ass. “wanna fuck you looking so pretty in my jewelry. wanna make you shine with sweat as pretty as those gems.”

“oh really?” you retort, sliding your hand between the two of your bodies and cupping his sex. he groans as you run your fingertips down his groin. “wanna make me shine with your cum?”

“yes,” he gasps. in the heat of the moment, his eyes catches the faint outline of diluc’s mark just below your jaw. overtaken by some primal instinct, he presses your waist against him. “you’re letting all those side-fucks give you hickeys?”

his words almost make you want to freeze. but you’re quick to resume back to normal, to pretend that those words don’t phase you. that you don’t hear the implications in the undertones of his voice.

it’s worse if you tell him it was unintentional.

“it’s a new development.” you tug at his hair as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. “you get only one.”

you need to have the upper hand. in a sea of seven men who are constantly demanding things from you, you have to take what you’re dealt with and do something before they overtake you.

he grins. “you’re such a tease. which motherfucker left this on you?”

you know better than to tell him. everyone knows that there’s seven who you’re regularly seeing. but they don’t know the names—not the order. you know better than to give names. these men are as powerful as they are rich, you wouldn’t do anything that’d upset the city’s dynamics.

so you avoid the question, like you’ve always done.

“i can think of better ways you can use that mouth, other than asking silly questions.”

his brow twitches, but he doesn’t do anything else to push you. instead, he smiles into your neck. “only one?”

“only one,” you confirm.

he doesn’t hesitate to take off your necklace. his hands dive to the back of your neck to unclip it and toss it to the side. you let out a yelp in surprise when it clangs onto the coffee table.

“i’ll buy you a better one,” he says in-between open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. “fuck, i’ll buy you a thousand more.”

he sinks down to your collarbone. “’been dreaming of this. my girl, my pretty, pretty girl, wearing reminders of me.”

♡

the two of you are in the comfort of kazuha’s home. wednesdays are reserved for writing, and like always, you’re pinned under his watchful gaze while he writes his thoughts away in his notebook.

with every few scrawls, he peeks over the paper to steal glances at you. you hum, pretending to be blissfully aware. you’re just here as his muse.

as of this moment, you snuggle into your comfortable place in the back of his study, leaning against the window that expands to his backyard that oversees the sunrise and sunset. your own notebook rests on your thighs, your knees pressed close enough to your chest to allow you to write smoothly. kazuha sits across from you, his feet sometimes brushing against yours. if you laid your legs out straight, no doubt that the balls of your feet would meet his waist.

he keeps stealing glances at you. has been for the past hour. no matter how much you try to focus on your own poems, you can’t brush away the feeling of being watched.

his eyes are impeccable, and can spot the marks that occasionally peak underneath your scarf when you move a certain away.

“you let them mark you?” he asks out of the blue. not accusatorily, per se, but you can detect the edge in his voice.

the corners of your lips perk unnaturally. the moment you’d been dreading since you woke up had arrived. you let your eyes soften, as if it could soothe kazuha by any means. with a gentle hand, you reach out to softly grasp his hand that tightens around the edge of his notebook. it’s something he accepts readily, enveloping your hand with his.

“i was meaning to talk to you about this, kazu,” you say tenderly. “it’s just something i’m trying out. everyone gets one. see if everyone’s okay with it.”

kazuha doesn’t say anything. his gaze is fixated on your intertwined hands. “my love, they mark your skin like animals.”

you smile like it’s no trouble. because that’s what you need him to believe. you feel like kazuha’s a loose thread. tug him in the wrong direction, the wrong idea, and he’ll undo the entire sweater.

“it’s only going to be seven,” you reply, trying to lessen the tension.

“it’s better if there’s just one,” he retorts gingerly. “they aren’t gentle at all, are they?”

you don’t like the way his eyes sweep over your entire figure. you hold back a shudder, feeling as if a ghost had just passed through you.

“they are,” you mumble, although you can hardly say it’s true. “don’t you worry kazu, i can handle myself.”

your line of sight flits back to your intertwined hands; he lets go, instead running the pads of his fingers down the back of your hands before settling on your wrist. his hold is firm. it’s not tight enough to cause you pain, but not gentle enough to let you pull away.

“i’m sure you do, love,” he mutters. but the way he says it makes it seem as if he doesn’t believe you.

his eyes connect with yours intently.

the rustle of your clothes shuffling echoes through the quiet study as he pulls your wrist towards his mouth. in doing so, you’re forced to lean forward. his eyes never leave you, not when he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“they just want you for your body,” he says, more to himself than you. “they don’t love you at all. everything would be so much better if you just dropped them. let me take care of it. take care of it all.”

you don’t say anything back. he doesn’t want you to. and even if you did, it wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. you have bills to pay. you have enemies a wealthy poet wouldn’t be able to defend you from on his own.

his tongue slides out of his mouth to lick a long strip up your wrist, all while looking at you. he presses open-mouthed kisses in the same spot, sucking and nibbling with purpose. in-between kisses, his tongue draws letters on the expanse of your skin in a sentence you’ve begun to fear.

A L L M I N E

დ

when spring comes, tighnari will sometimes give you hickeys. he’ll do it in the heat of the moment in a passionate rut. he can’t think of anything else but you. how perfect you are for him. how beautiful. how you belong to him.

while he drives his cock into you the only way he knows how, his lips will find their place in the crook of your neck. on the curve of your breasts. on the plush of your thighs. he’ll kiss you like you’re his air.

he’ll whimper into your skin. in that moment, you’re powerless to stop him. his pace is godspeed, pummeling into you like you’re his lifeline. driven to leave his white reminders of his love and devotion into your aching pussy. you can barely hold yourself up steadily. your fingers tremble. overcome with an insurmountable high, you can’t push him away as he leaves hickeys all over your body.

it’s not to send a message to everyone, per se, but to express the feelings he’d been keeping pent up during autumn, winter, and summer. the overwhelming infatuation and adoration he feels for you.

his pension for leaving nonstop hickeys on you starts to settle on the fourth day. and by the end of the week-long rut, they’ve faded just enough that you can cover it up with foundation and expensive jewelry.

but when he’s not blinded by his sexual desperation during the spring, it’s a different story.

it’s a perfectly fine thursday mid-afternoon in the comfort of tighnari’s study when he sees it.

he catches a glimpse of kazuha’s kiss on your wrist when you pass a cup of tea to him. your sleeves ride up just a bit under the beaming sun. you notice too, and are quick to pull back. but it’s too late. the moment he’s set down the cup he’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling back the sleeve. “what’s this?”

you’re tempted to let out a breath of relief that he didn’t notice the hickey that barely rested on the edge of your collar. when you donned on the turtleneck sweater, you feared that he’d notice it if it slipped down and grow even more livid.

just play it off. pretend. if you’re lucky, by the end of this week, you’ll end up with only six hickeys.

“oh, i must’ve bumped into something.”

tighnari scowls. “this doesn’t seem like an ordinary bruise. how’d you get it?”

you’re scrambling for a believable response. “i was leaning back onto the counter and didn’t realize the corner was there.”

he chuckles. “clumsy you.” his forefinger inches up the slightest bit to press on it.

you wince. subsequently, your entire body tenses. this isn’t like those times where you can lie sweetly to him whenever he asks for you to stay for good. this isn’t like one of those times you can charm your way out of a situation. the way he looks at you is knowing. feral.

“i wasn’t born yesterday, love,” he hisses. “i know a hickey when i see one, especially when i leave them on you every spring.”

the way he kisses you after is rougher than usual. desperate. needy. aggressive. he presses into you, his tail wagging tentatively. he brings your arms to wrap around his neck. his tongue caresses your own, exploring your mouth like it’s a new discovery. a new treasure trove.

he whimpers into the kiss, his little squeaks and moans muffled by his need to devour you.

you close your eyes and let yourself get swept up with the pacing. to get distracted by him. you hardly register the time pass before the two of you are naked, your clothes strewn across the floor in his bedroom.

your back is pressed against his chest, your ass hugging his dick while he slides his hand down the valley between your breasts, stopping to pinch your nipple until it hardens. his other hand is left to its own devices, settling on your waist.

his fingers find themselves in the comfort of your pussy. he whimpers at how amazing you feel around his fingertips. how every time he pulls in and out, there’s squelching noises that almost overtake his little whines and yelps. every time he pushes his fingers back in, your ass presses a little closer to his dick.

he moans like you’re the one pleasuring him. like he’s on the cusp of euphoria, only silencing himself to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder.

“it’s m-my turn,” he says in-between whines. “m-my pretty l-little pet.”

დ

when alhaitham gets home after a long week of working, all he wants to do is relax in warmth of your embrace. friday is his reward.

he eats dinner as always, asking you questions in-between bites while delivering long stares that still make you feel like you’re being researched. but this week, instead of insisting you two spend quality time together reading on the couch, he coaxes you into the bedroom.

he groans into the kiss, pressing you to the wall as he helps you out of your clothes. but when he opens his eyes to admire your body, he doesn’t like what he sees.

he lets out an unamused chuckle. his hand brushes over your shoulder. “what’s this?”

you try to speak, but he cuts you off with another kiss. when you gasp in surprise, his tongue dives into your mouth.

he leaves you breathless; his pace is rough, almost angry.

“what a bad girl you are,” he seethes, “letting all those bastards touch you like that? bruise your pretty, pretty skin?”

he doesn’t let you talk. he envelops your opportunity to reply with his relentless kisses. he presses harder into your mouth, your teeth almost gnashing together. it’s almost painful, as if he wished to bind you two together.

“every friday is my solace, my holiday, didn’t you know?”

you gasp for air. “i-”

“i’m not done yet.” he brings his lips to yours for another hungry kiss. “every week i work so hard so i can see you, cherish you, and this is how you repay me? i thought you were my good girl.”

he chuckles darkly. “but you’re just a bad apple, aren’t you? i’ll have to fix that.”

he continues to kiss you. to ravish you with his mouth. he swallows your moans, his hands eagerly exploring your body like it’s his first time. and like always, his hands find their place on your chest.

“i’ve always loved your breasts: the way they curve, the way they sway so sweetly every time you arch your back for me, how your nipples perk up with every caress of mine.” he flicks one and you yelp.

“those imbeciles really have no intelligence at all.” he licks a long stripe in-between the valley of your breasts. “your body is a canvas.”

his eyes connect with yours, beckoning your gaze. a silent connection, a guarantee that you’re looking at him. at what he’s doing. at what he’s making you feel.

he stares at you attentively, and once again you feel like you’re being studied. every gasp that comes from your lips. every twitch of your brows. every time your eyelids flutter is under his watchful gaze like it’s the only thing his sight is for. like he’s a scientist researching the cure to his very own hunger.

his lips find purchase just on the edge of your areola, sucking intently. “to mark you is a form of art.”

he relishes in the way you shudder. but he needs more.

with one hand on your waist, his other comes up to fondle your other breast, craving for more reaction.

“only idiots wouldn’t be able to realize it.”

დ

unlike all of the other saturdays, where you’re probably swept up in the grand scheme of things (attending formal events, meeting politicians, or shopping like ayato’s wallet depended on it), you’re lounging in ayato’s home office on a calm evening.

the two of you decided to end things a bit earlier today and relax a bit. and by that, you suggested to spend some quality time alone so that you didn’t need to walk anymore. although you prided yourself on stamina and tolerance to soreness, even you couldn’t keep up after just about a week of aggressive men fucking their jealousy into you.

“it was hot today,” ayato mutters lazily as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests on the plush of his thigh, just as he likes it. “are you sure that you’re comfortable in that turtleneck, love?”

you curl into yourself a little bit more, tugging the collar up. “yes, i’m perfectly fine.”

you’re not fine. you’ve been sweating up a storm underneath your sweater but you were adamant on ending this week with six hickeys instead of seven. your stubbornness refused you the pleasure of ice-cold showers to wash away how your clothes burned you.

he pouts. “are you sure? you look awfully uncomfortable, dear. you can take a shower in my bathroom, if you’d like.” he smiles. “i won’t look, promise.”

you turn to look at him, contemplating. on one hand, you don’t believe anything good will come out of undressing in ayato’s house. you don’t believe his promise, either. if you knew him any better, he’d walk into the shower on the grounds of saving water, where he’d see all the hickeys imbued into your skin. while diluc, childe, and kazuha’s marks were getting a little faded, you doubt you could somehow explain alhaitham and tighnari’s hickeys.

but on the other hand, you’d been in this sweater for a whole day already. and your skin was started to get irritated. you felt gross with all of the sweat you’d accumulated. maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt.

you smile like there’s nothing to worry about. like you’re an adoring lover. like you’re whoever ayato wants you to be. you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he warmly receives.

“okay. i’ll be back soon.”

he chuckles as you get up from his lap to head to the shower. you had to be quick.

you all but run to the bathroom once you’re out of sight. you head to ayato’s bedroom where some of your clothes are. dresses, lingerie, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and all other items of clothing he’s ever bought you hang neatly in his closet. you pluck whatever seems practical and make a break for the shower.

you slip off the diamond ring he’d given you months ago. you all but slam it onto the counter, relieved your ring finger can breathe for once.

the quicker you take, the more likely you can shower without incident.

but the moment you’ve stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped secure around your torso, to your horror, the door opens.

“hey, love, i was wondering—”

just before you can close the door shut on him, his eyes connect to the discoloring on your shoulder.

regardless of his discovery, you move to usher him out. but mid-way, your feet are halted in the middle of the bathroom floor. the words are crawling in your mouth. you want to tell him that you’d like to shower in peace, tell it to him teasingly, but you don’t think you can.

that’s not what he wants. that’s not what pays the bills.

you offer a tight-lipped smile. “like what you see?”

he paces towards you, caressing your shoulder. he leans closer to you, examining the color, the shape, the size. “hm, so that’s how they want to play this game,” he whispers, ignoring your question entirely.

his hands gently tug at your towel. he smiles. “won’t you open up for me, love?”

he guides your hands as you drop the towel, revealing alhaitham’s mark.

“hm.” he looks at you as if he’s silently critiquing an art piece. “i see what’s going on here.”

he takes the ring that you left behind on the counter and works to slide it slowly onto your finger again. “you almost forgot to wear the symbol of our love, dear.”

“oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” it’s like there’s cotton in your mouth. your throat feels dry.

he chuckles at that. “poor thing. my poor lover can be so forgetful.”

his eyes drift down to your chest.

he presses a kiss above your breasts, where your heart is.

“she almost forgets that she’s mine.”

დ

even if he’s your designated sunday, if you aren’t careful enough, kaeya will create a week full of trouble for you.

when he eats you out, he becomes pussy-drunk. he kisses your lower lips like it’s his prize. his reward for working so hard this week. his tongue runs up your pussy to your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke.

when he reaches your clit, he lets his mouth mold over your nub. he licks at it gently, cherishing it like it’s his only rose on a lonely valentine’s day.

he makes love to you like he’s reached his happily ever after. his lewd slurping overshadows the shuffling of the sheets, your moans. when he dips his tongue into your cunt, he whimpers.

his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place. even when you’re overstimulated, begging for a break, he won’t let you go. he savors the way you tremble so cutely under his touch. how your cum leaks out of you in small streams after your fifth release. he’s immersed in your cunt, yearns to make out with your lower lips while his nose nudges at your clit.

it’s too much. the feeling of your climax is so overwhelming.

he wants you to feel this euphoria, to remind you of how he feels every time he looks at you.

he wants you so much. so fucking much it hurts him when he can’t see you. when he can’t hold you. when he can’t be with you like a real lover. he needs you like he needs air. he needs to feel you wrapped around him to give him life. to give him purpose.

that’s why when you’re so swept up in the feeling of a constant climax, when your legs feel numb, he gets so carried away.

if you don’t catch him in time, kaeya will leave secretive hickeys along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your folds. he needs the others to know he’s staking his claim.

to know he’s making you feel so good that there’s definitive proof.

at the end of the week, when you see him again after seven days of trying to calm down the jealous storm among your seven sugar daddies, he’ll grin.

it’s that same devious smirk he gives you at candlelight dinners, except it isn’t one to mask his vulnerabilities with charisma and one-liners. it’s one to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s done.

he knows what he wants, and he’s finally had enough of the fucking waiting.

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hunnieknight · 1 year

Text

"The Rooster's Little Chick" (+Art)

You are Pulcinella's precious grandchild. The Rooster brings you-the little chick- out of the coop to his field, and of course, he regrets it. A continue from this

GN! Reader, all Harbinger except Signora and Scaramouche, timeline after signora's funeral and before Sumeru event, mention of Signora's death and Scara's betrayal, reader is called using 'Master' by Pulcinella's underlings, age-gap , bit of comedic/crack, hints of yandere, borderline possessive, implied stalking and obsessive behaviour.

Note : Pulcinella able to control cryo in this hc. I DO NOT SPEAK RUSSIAN

Series II Series III

_________

Hatching

Pulcinella thought you both can bond together as grandpa-grandchild after this meeting. So he just asked you to pick him up while making sure you got his fatui emblem and his feather so you can get past the soldiers.

Pulcinella thought since you are so normal and regular, he can let the other Harbingers see you eye-to-eye.

Boy, for years working with them...he should've known.

You caught their eyes at first glance, but not because they are smitten, their dirty side of sick curiosity and pure dominance is what drove them to you.

What? you think because you are Pulcinella's precious grandchild they gonna treat you better? No no no, you are merely a blood child from their co-worker. They are going to treat you nicely only in front of your grandpa. Behind him? You are a little plaything, little baby chicken away from its protective rooster.

But Pulcinella knows. He knows his co-workers are psychos.

So as a good grandpa, he didn't hesitate to THREATEN the others if they hurt you in any way possible. Showed off his cryo power, he will make sure being frozen to death is the kindest mercy they will ever get if you got hurt.

First Chirp

It "tamed" the others, but not enough to make them back off. They are all curious and truth-seeker at heart.

Pulcinella never gave them your name, Keeping his mouth shut and only calling you "child" or "kid" whenever the others were with him. He makes sure the only information they know about you is you are his grandchild.

Once they eavesdrop and heard how you are "an adult and can take care of yourselves around his co-workers". You can bet those who eavesdrop just giggle and smirk hearing your statement.

But one day a mistake happened, after a meeting, when Childe is the first one to leave the room, his eyes widened in excitement to see you waiting outside the meeting room.

Gloved hands fidgeting with the bag with a Pyro Agent sharing his warmth with you using his pyro delusion. Your head is tucked under the cover of a fluffy hat with Pulcinella's feather, your mouth is hidden behind a scarf, and your red nose and cheek caused by the harsh cold of Snezhaya make you more eye-catching and interesting to him.

The Agent has spilt your name accidentally whilst Childe approaches you. "Master {Name}, would you like me to bring you a spare coat instead?". Both of you didn't realise Childe coming closer, Childe's heart jumped out of his chest after learning your name.

"So your name is {Name}!!!" Childe's loud voice booms around the hall into the meeting room where everyone's still packing their stuff. He smirked towards the meeting room door aaaanddd- "Childe..." there you go. He can't see it but he felt the disappointment in Pulcinella's eyes, hidden by his glasses.

Pulcinella who still standing by the door frame can feel the excitement from the meeting room. His sharp eyes stared at Childe who still smirking and slowly approaching you who froze at the loud call of your name. Now they know your name.

First Flap

Their behaviours are like a paradox. Whatever their doing is always the opposite of their reason. Are you... supposed to feel afraid because they are your grandpa's co-workers...or you supposed to feel frightened because they are THE HARBINGERS.

Huh? What do you mean they are invading your personal time? They just want to make sure there is no betrayal -like one from their own- from Pulcinella's side you know? Just to be safe.

They are not being pushy, they just want their co-worker's sweet grandchild to be safe. They just recently lost someone too not that they care ofc.

Hiding you away is unnecessary and telling you to not pick him up again has shown to be a futile attempt. When your grandpa told you to not go to the Palace, he found you being pampered in the palace hall by Childe who casually just said he invited you to the Palace. He didn't invite you, he stole you. Pulcinella tried to put one or three agents to cover you, but knowing his co-worker, they will not hesitate to deck Pulcinella's soldier just to get to you.

Sometimes you are just a toy. Finding where you are hiding is now a favourite game of theirs, where are you after meeting? Will you be outside the door waiting for your grandpa? Will you be in his office instead all tucked up warming yourself? Will you be in the garden hidden by the white bushes? Or you are in the library busy with books?.

A little chicken hid away in this harsh cold field. The Rooster? Of course, wouldn't hesitate to claw the "eagles" who trying to scoop you up.

Childe felt like he is the most worthy of you. You are not far off from his age and he feels like he has the responsibility of taking care of you as a payment to Pulcinella for taking care of his family. He is the only Harbingers who can interact with you outside the Palace but not for long. Considering he is a debt collector which forces him to travel, of course, he made sure to bring you a souvenir from any nation he visited.

Dottore is one of Harbingers who actively seeking you out. But not directly, he will order his underlings to check if you are in the Palace by yourself. If yes, he will tell them to whisk you away to his lab keeping you to himself. Often ended with Pulcinella having to directly pick you up from Dottore and checked your body for any injuries. Considering he is more hands-on in his experiment.

Pantalone and Sandrone have different approaches. You often found presents sent to your home. From a very fancy scarf and pieces of jewellery to some toys and plushies to really high-quality gadgets. Your grandpa often told you to just throw it away in fear they put some kind of tracking or camera to spy on you.

Columbina is also one of the hands-on when it comes to you. She often whisks you away after meeting, knowing you will be waiting for your grandpa. Of course, she has to race with Childe, seeing Childe just shot up from his seat whenever Pierro ended the meeting. Funny how instead of your own grandpa, it's his co-workers who are more excited to play with you.

Huh, Arlecchino just passed by you, completely ignoring you besides a simple glance. Is she not interested in you? Well, that is good, you heard from Childe she dislikes the businessmen Pulcinella and Pantalone. Either way, you can relax around- Huh...is it you or it seem like you see Fatuis agents a lot in your area now?

Speaking of Pierro and Capitano, they both are so conflicted with themselves. They know that compared to you, they are ANCIENT. The age gap and the generation gap are vast. They will have a crisis because it is their workmate's grandchild. Aren't they supposed to be your second grandpa instead? No no no, that won't do at all. They need to make sure they will be the second in command to take care of you if Pulcinella is away.

PULCINELLA DOES NOT TRUST ANYONE AT ALL.

#harbingers x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #imaginedraw #genshin art #genshin imagines #lol how do i tag these #omg this is taking a long time wtf #genshin x male reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #im tired to tag everyone #dottore x reader #columbina x reader

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blitzyn · 3 months

Text

shut up

childe x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> im sick and tired of winter WHERE IS SUMMER. help i wrote some of this in public so i had to stop myself from acting out some of the motions just to figure out how to write it lmao. guys i kinda made him a little mean i just got a little carried away oopsies. anyways one more non req and ill work on reqs i hope

wc -> 3.8k

cw -> very dubcon, hate sex, a lil bit of blood, anal sex, spit as lube, not a lot of prep, degradation, manhandling, throat fucking, asphyxiation, reader is a masochist, mean dom childe, spitting (in ur mouth like once), chokehold, prone bone position for like 2 seconds lmao, brief descriptions of fighting, reader offs someone cuz he felt like it kinda, it starts sorta abrupt tbh lol, not beta read

Childe fucking hated you. This was old news—absolutely anyone who had the barest idea who he was knew that. Everyone within a twenty meter radius could hear him arguing about something, and it never seemed to be about the same thing more than once. There always seemed to be something the two of you nitpicked about each other, throwing it out into the open which, more often than not, led to a fight with no clear winner.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it since the two of you were Harbingers. You were ranked tenth after Signora’s death and The Balladeer’s desertion, just behind Childe who was in ninth. But that didn’t stop you from riling him up relentlessly, even finding some type of enjoyment from his anger because you knew it wasn’t particularly common to see. Really, there wasn’t much of a power difference between the two of you other than the fact that you were less experienced.

As such, you were often assigned to missions together—if assigned meant that you simply joined him when you didn’t have anything important to do, much to his obvious displeasure.

This time, you followed him towards a hideout hidden between large rocks. It was simple, and you preferred that it wasn’t so easily accessible, but you supposed that hiding it in plain sight was acceptable for now.

“I don’t like how easy it is to find this place,” you commented, taking in your surroundings as if you were impressed by how large the area was compared to the small cave entrance. “It’s so obvious.”

Childe only offered you a grunt in acknowledgement, making his way past a few scattered materials on the floor. This wasn’t a facility that the Fatui used as much as before, but some machines were still operational and functioning.

“Ignoring people when they’re talking to you is rude, Tartaglia,” you chided, but you couldn’t care less that he wasn’t responding. “Besides, it’s not like you disagree with me. You wouldn’t want a poor, helpless child accidentally stumbling across this place while they’re playing a game.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you could see him grit his teeth when he noticed the smug expression on your face. “Nobody’s gonna find the entrance. It’s been around for years and there hasn’t been a trespasser.”

“Really?” You hummed, nodding slowly to yourself. “If you say so.”

He eyed you warily, instantly skeptical of how quick you were to accept his statement. But that wasn’t important right now—he needed to retrieve some documents and collect money from a few debtors.

“Just… Just stay here. Don’t touch anything,” he instructed, unnerved by how you obediently sat on a rickety chair and watched him expectantly.

“Yessir,” you replied with a playful tone in your voice, crossing your arms over your chest comfortably.

He silently stared at you for a few moments. “What are you planning?” He blurted out, annoyed with the eyebrow you raised in question. “You don’t like listening to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his accusation. “I don’t really favor getting chewed out by whoever needs those papers, so hurry up and get what you need. I’d rather talk to the debtors, anyways.”

He didn’t move from his spot for a few more moments before hesitantly making his way toward an isolated room, seemingly accepting your response. You chuckled through your nose at his reluctance as you swirled your finger around, creating a small rabbit made out of Cryo. It was quiet and unassuming as it silently hopped around before you sent it out of the room, searching for any valuable items worth keeping as you waited.

You leaned back in boredom, shutting your eyes to focus on keeping the rabbit's form. You could feel a faint hint of interest radiating through you from your creation, cringing slightly at the smell of metal before you relaxed again. The rabbit was mid-search when an arrow whizzed past it, nicking its back. Quickly, it fled, leaving a trail of Cryo. The hunter cursed loudly and chased after it, but it wasn't long before it made it to its destination.

Curious, you released your focus on the rabbit as you stood up to pick up whatever it found. You looked up when the hunter suddenly walked through the cave entrance, slightly surprised to know that they hadn't stopped trying to go after your rabbit. The two of you stared at each other before you spoke up in mild disinterest.

"Can I help you?" You questioned, inspecting your find once again. It was shiny and had intricate designs on it, but ultimately worthless.

"Uh... Uh, yes! Yes, you can," they said after a moment, scoping the area in search of their nonexistent rabbit. "Have you seen a white rabbit run through here? Small, quick, and leaving some sort of trail behind it," they described eagerly, taking a few steps forward.

"I'm afraid you can't come in here," you said, raising a hand to stop them in their tracks. You analyzed them for a moment, taking in their appearance. They couldn't have been older than fifteen, with shaggy brown hair and tanned skin.

"Then why are you in here?" They countered stubbornly, crossing their arms. It seemed they forgot all about their hunt in favor of digging into your business.

"That's none of your concern," you replied, ignoring their questioning gaze above your shoulder. "If you don't leave now, I'll have to resort to force."

You bristled a little when you saw them roll their eyes. Too stubborn for their own good, apparently. "Yeah? Well, I'm the chief's kid. What's a weird-looking guy like you gonna do to me?"

You frowned, visibly offended. You stared at them for a moment before raising your dominant hand again, this time letting an icicle form on the tip of your middle finger before flicking it directly at them. In the blink of an eye, they went down with a loud thud. "Kill you," you replied to the body.

You walked up to them and lifted their head by their hair, examining the wound on their forehead with a hum. Blood leaked in copious amounts down their face, and you couldn't stop the grimace when some landed on your foot.

"Oh, shit," you hissed under your breath when you caught a better look at them. You wondered why they seemed so vaguely familiar to you when the realization suddenly hit you-the chief was one of the debtors. You pursed your lips before standing up with a shrug, placing a hand on your chin to ponder different ways to dispose of the body without tarnishing the Fatui's name even further. "I suppose I could just toss them in a lake? Or lure in a wild animal to eat them? Burning's too obvious..."

"What the fuck did you just do?" You heard Childe curse from behind you. You turned around to face him, eyebrow twitching in interest when you noticed his normally void eyes alight with fury. Honestly, though, you didn't quite understand why he seemed so upset. Maybe it was because of how transactions with the debtor may not go as smoothly as he wanted, or the fact that the person you killed was still technically a child.

"Someone found the entrance," you shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. "We don't want anyone finding important information about the Fatui, right? So I killed them. I told you it was easy to spot." You rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing ever, which only served to anger him. You tried to make your way past him deeper into the facility in search of something interesting to take when a sudden blur slammed your body into a wall. You let out a pained grunt, instinctively wrapping your fingers around the wrist where he pinned you down by your throat.

You knew he was ruthless when he needed to be, but you weren't given a chance to see it with your own eyes up until now. He was far from gentle, holding your delicate neck with such ferocity it made your skin tingle. It was exhilarating.

"Like hell they just conveniently found the entrance," he spat, his voice low as he glared deep into your watering eyes. "You deliberately lured them in here, didn't you? And for what? Because you were bored?" He refused to slacken the hold around your throat, internally finding that he preferred how you looked when you couldn't breathe.

"You—cough—You're much the s-same, Tartaglia," you strained out, trying to furiously blink away your tears. "Don't pretend you don't crave vi-violence, too."

You could see him grit his teeth just before he tossed you to the floor, watching you cough and regain your breath with disdain in his eyes. "No. Don't compare me to a fucking psychopath like you. I don't kill kids just because I feel like it!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," you groaned, rubbing your sore skin. You could still feel his hand around your throat, his grip burned into your flesh in a way that sent a familiar heat through your groin. He took a second to examine your body before zeroing in on the growing bulge between your legs, disbelief written on his expression.

"There's no damn way," he muttered to himself as if trying to convince himself you weren't aroused by him strangling you. With a growl, he stepped forward and harshly pressed a foot on your crotch, merciless with the amount of pressure he used. He watched in disgust as your hips jerked in response, frowning deeply at the pained moan you let out. "You're seriously turned on?"

"If it wasn't obvious—" You were unceremoniously cut off by a swift kick to your jaw, accidentally biting down on your tongue. You tasted the metallic tang of your own blood that originated from your mouth and your nose, wiping it away quickly. Your cock only throbbed with an increased fervor in your pants that strained for release against the fabric.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, staring down at you for a few moments, deciding what to do with you now that he had this newfound information in his hands.

"What's gotten you so upset?" You teased him, obviously not taking your situation seriously. You felt a pleasurable chill run down your spine at the fierce look he gave you, sitting up a bit in anticipation when you saw his hand stray down toward his pants, roughly undoing them.

"You just can't shut your mouth, can you?" He hissed, leaning forward a bit to grab a handful of your hair. He yanked you closer, forcing you onto your knees as he pressed the tip of his flaccid cock against your waiting tongue. "Fine, then. I'll shut it for you."

You hummed at the salty taste of his skin, raising your hands up to hold onto the swell of his muscular thighs. He groaned quietly when you dragged your tongue along a prominent vein on the underside of the shaft, looking up at him through your lashes. You let out a garbled moan when he forced you all the way down to the base, seemingly satisfied with the way you gagged a little.

Your nose was buried within his pubic hair as your throat tightened and spasmed, feeling yourself beginning to drool as the thick strands of saliva seeped out of the corners of your lips. You could hardly breathe, but you loved it. You loved the way he tugged on your scalp, starting to move his hips back and forth. You tried to contribute as much as you could, but the way you could feel his cock hardening sent a pleasant ache through your jaw.

"Fucking hell... You're not fit to be a Harbinger," he spat, holding you still as he reached down to swipe a bit of the blood from your nose to messily wipe it on your cheek. You couldn't see what he was doing, but the patterned swipes made it clear what he was writing.

S, L, U, T.

The word sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You could feel your cock twitch in your pants, leaking a profuse amount of precum that served to stain the fabric. You let out a moan and slipped a hand underneath your clothes, jerking yourself off shamelessly.

He let out a breathy scoff at the sight, but he couldn't help the way his dick throbbed when your throat squeezed around him. "You're too good at this," he groaned, gradually moving his hips faster until he was fucking your face. "You don't belong in the Fatui. You're better off at a goddamn whorehouse."

He relished in the sound of your chokes and gags, finding that he preferred this much more than your voice. He let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes, tilting his head back in ecstasy as he lost himself in the sensations. He was unaware of how you shifted your hand lower, using your precum as a subpar replacement for lube to push two of your fingers in your hole. You weren't in any particular rush as you leisurely pumped them in and out of you, adding in the wet sounds to your strained moans and ragged breaths. You were brought back to your senses when you heard him bark out a mocking laugh, squinting up at him through the tears that accumulated along your lashes.

"You're fucking pathetic," he muttered lowly, almost to himself, but you knew it was directed at you. "Is this—shit—all it took? You just needed a dick shoved down your throat, huh? Should've known you were such a whore," he demeaned, and you could only whine in response. Suddenly, he leaned a bit forward to press the sole of his shoe onto your aching cock, watching intently at the way you choked in surprise. "Maybe the rest of us should get a turn with you? Turn you into our little fucktoy? Our good-for-nothing cumdump?"

A grin made its way onto his pale face, turned on with the amount of control he had over you. His left hand slid lower, maintaining a firm grip on the junction between the back of your head and neck as his other one moved up to pinch your nostrils shut. He thrust harder, faster, shuffling closer when you tried to tilt your head away. He ignored your muffled protests and focused solely on getting himself off, letting out satisfied groans that you weren't fully there to appreciate.

It wasn't until you could hear a high-pitched ringing did he finally cum, shooting his load down your throat without a care for whether or not you could properly swallow it. He held himself there for a moment longer before he pulled himself away with a harsh shove to your body. You coughed and panted hard, taking a moment to regain your composure before looking back up at him, eager for more.

"Still not satisfied?" He questioned rhetorically. You both knew you weren't done yet, not when you found out how he could get when you pushed his buttons just the right way. "Stupid question, huh?" He huffed a laugh through his nose before roughly kicking you onto your stomach, dropping to his knees not a moment later. He haphazardly tugged your pants and underwear down in one go, ignoring the pained hiss you made when you felt yourself sandwiching your drooling cock between your abdomen and the floor. He spread your ass apart to spit on your asshole, shoving a finger inside you for good measure before jerking himself off using some of his saliva.

"Tartaglia, please—hurry," you whined, looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. It was satisfying to see you in such a pitiful state, but the sound of your voice, although hoarse and raw, annoyed him.

"Be quiet or I'll leave you here like this," he snapped, giving your asscheek a quick slap before positioning himself over your hole. He rubbed the tip of it against your skin for a moment before pushing himself inside, groaning loudly at the feeling of you clamping down on him so perfectly.

It fucking hurt; after all, you only used two meager fingers to prepare yourself, and even then, you hadn't done much. It burned like he was tearing you apart but in the best damn way. The pain of being stretched out so mercilessly only mixed in with the insatiable fire in your groin, shooting jolts of electricity up your spine so intense you nearly came on the spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tartaglia, please, you're so—!" You cut yourself off with a moan when he suddenly slammed himself down all the way, ramming the head of his cock against your sensitive prostate.

"I said shut up!" He demanded, pressing his hips down to grind against you. He wasn't as deep as he could go in this position, but he still managed to fill you up just right. You groaned when he leaned down, pinning you to the ground with his body weight as an arm snaked around the front of your throat, pressing it against you firm enough to restrict some of your airflow.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to grab at his forearm, digging your nails into the scarred skin in a futile attempt to get him to ease up. You could hear every sound that left his lips, every labored breath that brushed the shell of your ear. It didn't take him long to start moving, pulling out until only the tip remained before slamming back into you mercilessly. You could feel every inch and vein with each drag of his cock, your body jolting alongside his harsh thrusts, grinding your dick up and down on the ground.

"God... you're so damn tight," he muttered, picking up the pace. A low moan escaped his throat when he pressed against your prostate just right, ignoring your fleeting struggle.

It was hard to breathe. You could feel him everywhere around you all at once, and it didn't help that he fucked you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. Your moans and whines were strained and hoarse, clawing at his arm, but you knew you didn't really want him off. Your body ached at his rough handling as wet slaps echoed through the abandoned facility, briefly wondering if anyone outside could hear, but you could hardly maintain your train of thought long enough for it to become a concern. He fucked you fast and rough, hips slamming against your ass hard enough to sting, but he didn't find it in himself to care.

"Tar-Tartaglia! Slow...—!" You tried to plead, beginning to find everything overwhelming when you cut yourself off with a squeal. He quickly shifted himself, leaning back to hold your throat with his hands as he pulled, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably.

"No," he replied, tilting his upper half over you just enough to spit in your gaping mouth. He felt you tighten in response as he relaxed his hold the slightest bit, feeling you swallow his saliva eagerly. "You wanted this. So you're gonna fucking take it."

The heat in your belly intensified to an unbearable degree, and with the way he practically filled up every crevice of your hole, you weren't sure you were going to last much longer. With one hand on your throat, he moved his other one down to spread one of your asscheeks to intently watch his cock move in and out of you. He could feel every twitch and shudder you made, and it satisfied him to know just how easy you were to break down despite your initial resistance.

"Fuck... I can feel you," he groaned, yanking your head back a bit to get you to look at him. "You're about to cum, huh?"

It was hard to find the right words to reply when he fucked every thought out of your head, but the panic in your eyes made it clear that you didn't want him to stop so suddenly. And although he wanted to see you beg like the whore you were, he needed to finish this quickly. He still had a job to do, after all.

"You're lucky I still need to collect some money," he growled, glaring at you with familiar disdain. "Otherwise I would've left you like this for hours."

With renewed vigor, he removed his hand from your throat to roughly push your face down by the back of your head, tugging your hips up to bury himself deeper inside your ass. You cried out in ecstasy as your eyes rolled back, making an attempt to withhold your orgasm when he wrapped his fingers around your throbbing cock, jerking you off in time with his punishing thrusts, but to no avail. Barely a moment later, you came with a loud moan, cumming so hard it left you lightheaded and dizzy.

He chased after his own release, giving you a few more rough thrusts before he stilled, burying himself as deep as he could go inside you. You could feel his thick cock throbbing as he filled you up with his cum, shuddering at the warmth before you slumped back down to the ground. He remained still for a moment longer, catching his breath while he watched you tremble. With a sigh, he pulled out, grimacing a little at the sight of his dick slick with fluids, but he tucked it back in his pants regardless.

"Get up. We have to hide the body and get to the chief before anyone finds out you killed his kid," he said impatiently, walking towards the hunter to inspect it.

"Just... Just bury them, or something," you suggested, taking a moment to calm down before pulling your pants up. Finding a reflective surface, you summoned a bit of your Cryo and melted it with your body heat to wipe away the crusted blood on your face.

"Eugh... I can feel your cum," you found the energy to complain, turning to face Childe with annoyance written on your face. The audacity.

"Shut up and let's go. We're already behind schedule after your bullshit." He scowled, picking up the body, already having decided what to do with it. At least it wasn't your problem anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you said, quickly fixing your appearance. If it weren't for the slight limp in your gait, nobody would be able to tell he just fucked you within an inch of your life. Perks of being a Harbinger, you suppose.

cross-posted on ao3

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yourheart-inmyhands · 5 months

Note

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning.

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction.

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office.

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you.

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

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flokali · 3 months

Text

♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.

pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe

word count: 10.7k

a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)

— 18+

You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.

It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible.

It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.

You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.

Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.

A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.

While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.

You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.

Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.

“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.

“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”

“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”

“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”

Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.

You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.

“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.

Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.

Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.

“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.

She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.

He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.

That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.

That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.

The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.

The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out.

They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife.

The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.

Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you. Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.

You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.

Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.

He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.

There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.

He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep.

A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier.

You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.

You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.

You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.

“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”

“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.

“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.

“Then I promise as well.”

Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep.

When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.

This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.

As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.

You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy, a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.

If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.

“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.

“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”

He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.

“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.

Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul.

He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.

You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.

“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”

There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.

“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”

That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions?

“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years.

“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.

“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”

You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —

“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”

“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.

You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.

Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.

The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.

“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events.

“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”

“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him?

He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.

“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”

“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?”

“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”

He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect.

You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.

He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.

“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”

He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.

“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”

You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.

You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.

By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.

The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.

Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.

“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?”

When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming.

Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you.

“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”

“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?”

“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”

“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”

The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.

“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”

“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.

“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?

“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”

“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”

“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”

His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.

“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”

“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”

He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.

“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”

“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”

His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.

“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”

“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”

“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”

She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”

“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”

“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”

“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”

“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Get off of her!”

Oh, your father was here.

It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.

“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”

Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step.

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”

“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.

“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”

“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”

“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”

“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”

“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”

“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.

Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.

Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.

Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.

The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet.

To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.

His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good.

With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.

Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.

With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.

With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.

“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.

“Yes, sir.” The man nods.

“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.

“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”

The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.

As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.

He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.

It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.

Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.

Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.

“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.

Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.

The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.

It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.

There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth.

He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.

“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.

The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.

He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.

“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.

The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.

He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.

“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”

Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag.

He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.

He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand.

“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.

He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.

He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.

“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.

It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.

“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.

It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.

“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”

Almost a little too much.

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