content: sub!childe, dom!reader, unhealthy dynamic!!!, childe is very obsessive and manipulative, mentions of stalking, threats of violence (not towards reader), reader is mean but childe is into it, begging, slapping, cockstepping, unprotected sex, hair pulling, degradation, possessiveness, slight angst, childe has a scent kink, marking/biting, praise kink, elements of petplay (reader calls childe “puppy” & treats him like a dog lol)
a/n: i do not condone the behavior in this fic! please don’t read it if any of the themes may be upsetting for you, and never let a cancer man manipulate you into fucking him 🙏
word count: 12.8k
The hush that fell over Morepesok late into the night was typically one of comfort, a gentle blanket enveloping the village and drifting its citizens off to sleep. Tonight, however, there was a distinct lack of that peaceful lull you’d grown used to on your walks home. No soft veil of darkness, no calming silence that was disturbed only by the familiar rhythm of the sea—rather, an oppressive sense of dread hanging in the air, like when ocean waves receded from the shore moments before bringing about a devastating tsunami.
A thick sheet of clouds covered the sky, blocking out any traces of moonlight and promising fresh snowfall. Nothing unusual for Snezhnaya, all it meant was a few more inches of white powder crunching beneath your boots if you didn’t make it home in time. You pulled your hood securely over your head and, sure enough, it wasn’t long before the first few snowflakes began floating down in a delicate dance, so fragile that it was easy to forget how unforgiving they could be.
As you approached the walkway to your cottage, the source of all your foreboding suddenly became abundantly clear to you in the form of a distant silhouette. The faint light emitting from the streetlamps revealed a figure standing motionless in front of your house’s entrance, one you recognized all too well.
A horrible chill gripped your body, completely unrelated to the frigid winter air swirling all around you. It turned your feet into cinderblocks and your blood to ice. Despite every instinct screaming for you to turn tail and run the opposite direction, your heavy footsteps trudged on, only because you knew that the slightest glimpse of fear you exhibited would immediately be sniffed out and used against you. So, you continued steadily forward, ignoring the way your heart rate picked up with every step you took until the pale light finally illuminated the form that had been waiting for you. That thick, fluffy coat—you could never decide if it made him look absolutely massive, or highlighted how lean he really was underneath—and that bright, ginger head of hair, standing out against his surroundings like blood splattered in the snow.
“Childe,” you muttered. “I told you to stop coming here.”
“I know,” he let out a breathy chuckle, puffs of air fanning out around him in a ghostly fog. His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before they darted to the ground, feet shuffling from side to side. It was a sight that was probably meant to appear sheepish, but you knew better than that by now.
If Childe had any shame, he wouldn’t have waited by your house again. He wouldn’t have come back to you time and time again in the countless months you’d been broken up. He wouldn’t have sent you so many gifts and letters that you’d come to dread the arrival of the mail. He wouldn’t have memorized your daily routine and used each day he was back in town to follow you everywhere you went. He wouldn’t have made the view of him on his knees for you so commonplace, breaking down crying with crocodile tears every time you sent him away again. At least, you liked to think of them as crocodile tears. The possibility that they may be real was too troubling to consider.
No, Childe didn’t feel any shame. He wanted you to make him feel it.
Another spell of that hollow silence passed between you two, interrupted only by the sound of your keys jingling as you crossed your arms, an indirect order for him to explain himself.
“I just really missed you,” he whispered at last.
You should’ve come to expect it by now, but those words never failed to soften your heart just as much as they struck dread into it. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so much that you were afraid of him. You pitied him, and that was what frightened you the most. Knowing that you still had the capacity to care for this man no matter how many reasons he gave you not to.
You steeled yourself, hoping your expression hadn’t already betrayed you. “It hasn’t even been a week.”
“Two weeks and a day,” he frowned, visibly drooping over the implication that you didn’t count every waking second you were apart the same way he did.
“Yeah, well…” You eyed your front door longingly, praying you could wrap this up as quickly as possible and head inside the warm sanctuary of your house. “That’s nothing. We’ve been apart for far longer before.”
That was your first mistake of the night. Childe’s face brightened over the acknowledgement of a “we”—you and him, together again. A single unit, exactly how it should be in his mind. You realized your blunder a split-second after he did, panic rising in your chest when you caught the pure glee lighting up his features. Before you could backtrack, however, he used the opportunity to his full advantage.
“Precisely why we should make up for all that lost time, right?”
He tilted his head in a way that was so deceptively innocent, it only made you all the more determined to get away from him. Before you could fall for it again, before you could make a far greater mistake. Swallowing hard, you took a step towards the entrance of your house, and like clockwork, he matched you, taking a step backwards so that there was no path ahead for you but him.
“Who knows how long my next assignment will take,” he added wistfully.
The snowflakes were falling faster now, forming a crown of crystalline flecks in his fiery hair. You resisted the reflex to reach up and brush them away, instead deciding to use the coming blizzard as leverage to get rid of him.
“Childe,” you gritted your teeth. “It’s cold. Go home.”
Whatever hint there was to be taken, he tossed it to the harsh, blowing wind without a second thought. Rather than moving out of your way like any normal human being would, he surged forward, engulfing your body with his. You stumbled backwards from the sheer force of his embrace, only managing to remain upright thanks to his arms wrapping around your torso like a protective belt. More like a cage, really.
“What are you—!”
“Warming you up,” he sang, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Before you could even think to react, he pushed past the shelter of your hood and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, brushing its reddening tip that you’d always found so painfully cute against your skin. He took in a deep, blissful breath, strong fingers clutching the back of your coat, eager to break past the barriers of fabric and get to you.
Then, his muscles stiffened around your body, just noticeable enough to put you on edge.
“You smell different,” his voice grew eerily low. “Were you with someone else?”
You blamed the shiver that ran up your spine on the sensation of his breath tickling you.
“No, Childe.”
He nuzzled his nose further down your neck, completely shameless as he rubbed his face all over your scarf and burrowed underneath to reach more of your bare skin, taking in your scent over and over like a guard dog on a mission.
“Where were you?” He sounded more distressed now. “Why are you back so late?”
What, too busy to stalk me, today? You bit back what you really wanted to say. Somehow, refusing to address that incessant, ugly habit of his felt safer to you in that moment—because admitting to knowing about it would be the same as admitting to allowing it. Perhaps it was better to play dumb, let him think he was more subtle than he actually was.
Or maybe, subtlety had nothing to do with it. Maybe it made no difference to him whether you knew he was following you or not. He wouldn’t stop, either way.
“That doesn’t concern you,” you shut him down before he could start his usual spiel. Not wanting him to get used to the proximity, you rested your hand on the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his sweet-scented ginger hair and giving it a harsh tug. He didn’t fight back, but a soft noise rumbled in his throat as you yanked him away. The effect it had on you was even worse than if he’d just resisted.
Childe’s eyes fluttered open as he came back into view. Even in the low light, you recognized the look starting to glaze them over, pupils dilating after just a small taste of physical contact with you that no doubt left him hungry for more. He took in another deep breath, making it no secret that he was lingering on the traces of your scent in his nostrils.
“Why aren’t you wearing the perfume I got you?” He tilted his head again, and he was pouting. Reminiscent of a hurt child whose mother hadn’t hung his drawing up on the wall for everyone to admire. “The heart-shaped bottle from Ying’er’s shop in Liyue, I thought it was your favorite.”
You forced your eyes away from his puckered bottom lip. He must have caught the way you were staring, because the corner of his mouth twitched a bit, threatening to break into a smile.
“It is my favorite. That's why I save it for special occasions.” You saw no reason to deny that fact. “Anything else?”
He reached for your hand where it was fumbling with your keys in growing agitation, gloved fingers resting over yours. Despite the thick gear covering his hands, you could tell that he was still wearing the ring you’d gifted him over a year ago underneath—you knew the accessory by outline alone. A simple silver band with specks of ruby; his birthstone. The color of love and passion. The color of blood. Who knew where the gem ended and the bloodstains began.
“I miss it,” he murmured. “I miss your scent.”
There it was again, the earnest declaration that snaked its way around your heart and seized it in an iron grip, no matter how badly you wished you could remain indifferent to it.
“If you miss it so bad, you know where to buy the perfume,” you dismissed. Another impatient step towards your door, another step matched seamlessly by him. “Go home, Ajax. I have to be up early tomorrow.”
You’d thought that using his real name might help sway his obsessive mind and make him listen to you, just like it always used to. It was your trump card; soothing all his worries with your doting tone and putting his head into a happy haze, ready to follow any command you may give him. This time, though, it seemed to backfire. Childe’s entire face lit up over the first sign of affection from you, the closest his dead blue eyes ever got to reflecting light.
“I'll stay with you tonight!” he chirped. “I can help you fall asleep, so you’ll be well-rested for tomorrow.”
Only he could make such a harmless offer sound so inexplicably sinister. The worst part was, you knew he meant it, too. There was no underlying meaning to his words if you didn’t want there to be—if his sole use to you was helping you sleep, then he would gladly fulfill it.
And if you wanted to use him for anything else, well, he’d gladly fulfill that, too.
“I don't need help falling asleep.”
Another step forward. The lock to your front door was almost within reach.
“I can tell you a story or sing you some tunes, just the way you like.”
Against your better judgement, you paused. Memories flooded your mind of that sweet, charming voice that had first won you over all those years ago, the same voice he would sing his younger siblings lullabies with. It was uncharacteristically gentle and pure, so entrancing that you never stopped to think of the poison laced within it. An oleander voice.
Childe sensed your hesitation immediately. A fox on the hunt, scanning the undergrowth for the faintest rustles to lunge at and sink his fangs into. He leaned in closer, his hopeful gaze studying you so intensely that you worried it may actually burn holes into your skin.
“Please?”
“No,” you said at last, cursing the strain in your voice. “You can’t. You need to go, Childe.”
Back to Childe. It twisted the knife that you'd plunged into his chest all those months ago, the day you'd been foolish enough to think you could ever truly break free of him. His face darkened again, eyes narrowing with a predatory accuracy.
“Someone’s coming over, right?” he muttered. A barely concealed rage bubbled beneath the surface of his question, like the final moments before a dormant volcano erupted in the most violent of ways. “You’re seeing someone else behind my back, right? That’s why you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“I'm trying to get rid of you because you act like this,” you spat, giving his chest a shove. For all the force you put into it, he barely even stumbled. “No one's coming. And even if they were, it’s none of your fucking business. How many times do I have to tell you that we’re done?”
You’d half-expected him to look hurt— angry, even. To finally run out of his seemingly never-ending supply of patience for you and lash out at you for being so heartless, to give you another practiced pout that always made you forget why you felt the need to treat him so cruelly in the first place. But what he said next caught you off guard, taking your words and throwing them right back in your face.
“Until you mean it.”
Childe lifted his hand slowly, curling his fingers around the collar of his thick jacket to tug it down and reveal something that made your heart drop. A bruised patch on his neck, originally deep red and lined with indents where your teeth had dug into his skin, now faded into a purple-yellow color. Even among the countless battle scars riddling his skin, the mark stood out. It had been over two weeks since you’d given it to him—you couldn’t believe it still hadn’t gone away. But for such a fearsome warrior, Childe’s body had always been oddly delicate, quick to bruise. Especially around his neck, especially in your hands.
Or, the bastard might’ve taken measures to make sure it didn’t fade, pressing down on the damaged skin, breaking his blood vessels all over again to keep your brand on him for as long as physically possible. You wouldn’t put it past him.
The unwelcome reminder of that night made you wince. Of course. Maybe you were just as much to blame for this endless cycle as he was—after all, even the most loyal of dogs would eventually learn to stop returning to the same place over and over if it hadn’t grown accustomed to getting some kind of reward, right? But when Childe had finally returned from Fontaine a few weeks ago after being gone for much longer than either of you had anticipated, battered and bruised like you’d never seen him before, you’d had a moment of weakness. Or perhaps, several moments of weakness.
Rumors about what had happened to him in the foreign nation had reached your village; the unjust trial, his unexplained disappearance, his long, grueling battle with something horrifying and otherworldly that had left him so weakened he couldn’t make the journey home for months. You’d been worried sick about him, it was foolish to pretend otherwise. So when you found him on your doorstep again two weeks ago, still not fully healed, but smiling that sunbeam of a smile when he saw you, you’d let him fall back into your arms without much resistance. Back where he belonged, as he would put it.
You gave your head a violent shake, physically forcing the memories away. It had been a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Go home,” you commanded. “Now.”
“My home is here, with you.”
You forced out a scoff. “Give me a fucking break.”
It was obvious Childe knew just as well as you did that he was chipping away at your resolve, little by little. You had to put an end to this before it went any further, spiraled into something out of your control. Disregarding the crestfallen look on his face, you found the willpower to push past him at last and shove your key into the lock of your front door.
“Can’t you see how much you’re hurting me?”
His voice was far closer than you’d expected it to be, warm breath fanning over your ears and making goosebumps creep up on your skin. Struggling to focus, you threw out the first response that came to mind.
“You like it when I hurt you.”
“I do.”
You could hear his lips curving into a grin as he spoke. It made your stomach churn with disgust and desire, all at once.
“Goodnight, Childe.”
There was no room for debate in your tone, distant and resolute. Turning the handle of your door, you at last cracked it open, a fleeting sense of relief finding you as the welcoming warmth from inside began to seep out, beckoning you to safety.
“I guess I’ll stay out here, then,” he said quietly. “To make sure no one disturbs your sleep.”
If that was his last-ditch attempt at gaining some kind of sympathy, then you were confident that you’d won this battle. Stepping into your house with newfound certainty, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you replied.
“Don’t bother. You’ll freeze to death in this snow.”
“Are you worried about me?” he giggled. “Can't say that doesn't make me happy. But you should really be more worried about anyone who happens to pass by your house tonight.”
You froze.
“I don’t like hurting innocent people,” he continued on with a sigh. It was far too casual, as if he were discussing something as mundane as swatting a few pesky flies. “But who knows what kind of creeps might be lingering around here? If someone gets too close, I might not be able to tell the difference between them and the bastard who’s trying to steal you away from me.”
There was a soft crunching in the snow as he inched closer and closer to your rigid form until he was pressed fully against your back again, eclipsing you with his shadow. The comfort of your home was taunting you like a sick joke now, a mere step away from the nightmare unfolding behind you. It all clicked in your head. Even if the person Childe had it out for didn’t truly exist, he would make them exist. He would hold the whole world hostage if he had to.
“I really hope you won’t let it get to that,” he finished with a whisper. Low, barely there, but full of promise.
Your throat went dry, anything you’d planned to say shriveling up along with it. Given how uncomfortably close he was, you were certain he could feel the tension in your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat, pounding wildly against your ribcage like that of a cornered prey animal.
Whether it was an empty threat or not, you didn’t want to risk finding out. Every day, Childe challenged what you thought you knew about him, the limits you’d set in your mind for what he was capable of. He loved nothing more than to test himself, after all, and blurring the lines of his morality was no exception to that. The only predictable thing about him was his unpredictability.
He’d already given you glimpses of how far he was willing to go. His returns to Morepesok started becoming apparent to you not when Tonia would send you excited letters in the mail or when he showed up unannounced at your front door, but when the people you had grown close to in his absence inexplicably started to keep a distance from you. You didn’t know what he’d done to them—you weren’t sure if you wanted to know—but the very fact that they were still alive once he was finished with them sent a message in itself.
“Look what I can get away with when they lived to tell the tale. Imagine how easily I could get away with killing them.”
“Ajax,” your voice cracked on a single word, as did the composure that you’d worked so tirelessly to maintain up until now. Any delusions you’d had about being free of him just moments before seemed so laughable, in retrospect. It had been a losing game from the start, it always was.
He rested his chin on your shoulder with a carefree hum. “It is really cold out, huh?” he noted, hand reaching out to rest over yours on the door handle. “Do you think I could come in with you, instead?”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was an offer of mercy.
You nodded.
That was all it took for him to slip past you in a flash, swinging your door wide open and stepping aside to hold it for you. He watched eagerly as you brushed past him and entered the cottage, like a puppy awaiting some kind of approval for remembering his manners so well. You found yourself thinking that if he had a tail, it would surely be wagging by now.
The door shut with a heavy thud, at last freeing you from the unforgiving snowstorm that was swirling to life outside. But you were far more concerned with the storm brewing between you and the man you’d just allowed into your home. He mirrored your actions as you removed your heavy boots and shrugged off your thick winter gear. Rather than hanging his coat on a different hook, he draped it completely on top of yours, no doubt to make sure you smelled nothing but him the next time you wore it. It was so ridiculous, such an annoyingly him thing to do, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He met your irritation with a self-satisfied grin, almost cheeky enough to remind you of simpler times. A time when you were blissfully unaware of what that smile was capable of.
The coziness of your home eased your nerves a bit, at least, allowing you to feel more in control as you watched him wander down the hall, head turning curiously from side to side to take in every last detail of his surroundings. It earned a bitter laugh from you. As if he didn’t have every nook and cranny of your house memorized in that sick mind of his. As if he didn’t break in regularly when you were gone to see if anything had changed in his absence. If you’d purchased any new clothes or perfumes, developed a taste for any new dishes he should learn how to cook for you, or, most importantly, if any evidence of another person being there had been left behind.
The floorboards creaked under your feet as you followed Childe to your room, where you found him fiddling around with the items on your dresser. He inspected each one with a childlike fascination, toying with various trinkets and souvenirs and opening up the caps of your creams and lotions to smell them.
“You never change,” he remarked dreamily, placing a bottle of Inazuman, sakura-scented lotion back where he’d found it with a care he only reserved for you. For such a simple comment, it was full of overflowing adoration that you’d never been able to pinpoint the source of. You wanted to dispute it—to insist that you were no longer the same person you’d been when you and Childe were lovers—but you supposed the fact that he was back in your bedroom was proof enough that he was right.
Now that he'd removed his gloves, your ring shone on display as he ran his bare fingers carefully along every bottle and piece of jewelry decorating your dresser, many of which were gifts from him that you hadn’t been able to discard. A detail that you were certain he took great pride in. The snow in his hair had begun to melt, dripping off his bangs and splattering onto the wooden floor in a rhythm that was partially soothing, and partially akin to a ticking time bomb.
Without thinking much of it, you opened one of your dresser drawers to pull out a hand towel, reaching up to press it against the droplets forming on his hair. His breath hitched as you dabbed at the wet locks, eyes darting to fixate on you, to make sure that you were actually touching him on your own accord and it wasn’t just his imagination.
You regretted the gesture the instant his widened gaze met yours. It was full of an emotion you’d never once considered could be dangerous before seeing it on him—joy, unbridled and far too intense for your liking. What was even more troubling than that, however, was the very obvious craving that lurked beneath it. Itching for more, he always wanted more.
“You were getting my floor wet,” you tried to explain, yanking your hand away just as you would when veering too close to an open flame. But he grabbed your wrist before you could, not breaking his stare for even a second as he guided you back to his head, tossing the towel aside and nuzzling shamelessly against your palm.
It was frightening, how right it felt to have your fingers tangled in his hair again, brushing through the charmingly messy strands and watching his eyelashes flutter shut in contentment. You fell back into your roles with such ease every single time, a domestic facade beautiful enough to trick you into forgetting about what festered underneath.
Your gentle scratches to his scalp came to a sudden halt when he turned his cheek without warning to press his lips into your palm. The peck was soon followed by another, then another, until he was leaving hungry kisses all over your fingers and down your wrist. Each one sent a jolt through your senses, hauntingly familiar.
“Childe,” you warned.
“You’re so warm.” His thumb pressed against your wrist’s pulse as he mumbled between kisses. “Missed you so much.”
“You have no right to miss me anymore.”
His lips stopped for a moment, body tensing against yours. You tried not to let it get to you, even if the thought of who might suffer the consequences if you angered him made a wave of nausea rise within you.
“Don’t you get it?” he chuckled, but there was a hurt crack to it. “I’m yours. I'm always gonna be yours, no matter what you do.”
“I don’t want you to be mine,” you said coldly.
“You don’t have to want me.” He rested his head against your chest with a happy sigh, burrowing into your softness and tracing patterns into your back with restless fingers. “I still belong to you. Throw me out like a used toy and I'll still be yours to play with. Give me to someone else and I'll still have your name engraved on me.”
“Ajax.”
You cut him off before he could rile himself up with his own delusions any further—or perhaps, before he could pull you into them with him.
Hearing his name uttered so harshly on your tongue was enough to snap him out of it, at least momentarily. The look he gave you would put a kicked puppy to shame, and you could only hope that the unnatural gleam you spotted in his eyes wasn’t the beginnings of tears forming. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it otherwise, not when he was such a convincing crier. A pretty one, too.
“They’ll be dispatching me to Nod-Krai soon.”
Your heart dropped. This time, it was impossible to hide your reaction from him. Confusion, relief, dread—they all burst to life at once, a battle of emotions that you were certain Childe sensed in you with ease. You, on the other hand, couldn’t read his expression. It was good-natured as ever, completely detached from the situation at hand.
“Nod-Krai?” It came out incredulous. You wished you could just write it off as another one of his attempts to get in your head, but it was such a bizarre thing to lie about that you knew it had to be true. “Already? But you just…” you trailed off, mind racing a mile a minute with the implications of the news. Childe had just barely recovered from his extensive injuries in Fontaine, and Nod-Krai was far more unpredictable a place to roam, even for a Fatui Harbinger. Especially for Tartaglia, given his unquenchable thirst for throwing himself into harm’s way at any given opportunity. It was a lawless land, crawling with factions of varying loyalties, unbound by the same conventions as the rest of Snezhnaya—or any nation in Teyvat, for that matter.
Childe hummed, and you knew just as well as he did that you’d taken the bait he’d set out for you. Even so, you didn’t care about keeping up the act anymore. His revelation should’ve come as a blessing to you, it should’ve lifted the weight of his suffocating love off of your shoulders and made you feel light again for the first time in months. But you didn’t. All you felt was guilt.
Guilt for treating him this way when all he wanted was your love. Guilt for rejecting every letter, every gift, every desperate attempt to gain just a crumb of your attention, when you knew that any one of them could be his last.
“I’ll be gone in a week, maybe less.” He moved closer to you as he continued, very deliberate in his phrasing, you noticed. Not “leaving”, but “gone”. There was an unspoken air of permanence to it, one that had become all the more plausible to you after his brush with death in Fontaine.
You weren’t sure when he’d managed to grab it without you realizing, but that coveted heart-shaped perfume bottle was now resting in his hand. “Dunno how long this project will take, either. It’s a really big deal, apparently.”
You said nothing.
“So, I just…really needed to see you, y’know? Really need to be with you, right now,” he admitted with a feather-light whisper. “Will you let me?”
His finger rested on the bottle’s nozzle without pressing down on it quite yet, silently asking you for permission to spray the perfume. You just nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as a faint mist wafted over your skin, fragrant and nostalgic. A scent you would never be able to detach from him. Maybe that was why you still called it your favorite.
Childe was back on you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug and burying his face right back in the crook of your neck like it belonged there, like he wanted to get lost in you and never find his way out. You indulged him, petting the back of his head in an all too familiar motion as he took in a deep, unstable breath, whimpering softly in the back of his throat as the perfume flooded his senses. When he exhaled, it came out shaky, his whole body shuddering along with it and making you realize for the first time that the firmness you felt pressing against your thighs wasn’t just his Vision casing.
It made your insides coil—with dismay, and with something far more shameful. Hot and uncontrollable lust, pooling in your abdomen at an alarming rate. But you were past the point of lying to yourself, of pretending that you hadn’t anticipated this exact outcome from the moment you saw Childe’s silhouette awaiting you in the darkness. As soon as he’d stepped inside your home, you’d made your choice.
This time, when his lips found your neck, you didn’t stop him. His panting was like that of a starved dog, frantically trying to absorb your scent and leave uncoordinated, open-mouthed kisses all over your skin at the same time. His fingers dug deeper into your clothes, pulling you closer to him in fear that you might disappear from his grasp if he didn’t. You shifted your leg so that it pressed directly against the growing ache in his pants, drawing out a whine from him that activated an old urge within you—to make him fall apart.
“You smell so good,” he managed to gasp out between fervent kisses. They grew sloppier and sloppier with every new patch of skin his lips devoured, leaving hot, wet rings of saliva all over your neck that were as dizzying as they were sobering. Kisses that were so distinctly Ajax.
If all his nipping and licking wasn’t enough to thoroughly remind you that it was him, his nonstop chattering certainly was. “So good, so, so good. Need you. Need you so bad.”
You gave his hair a harsh tug as he wandered down the column of your throat to nibble at your collarbones, already completely drunk on you. “Is this all it takes to get you worked up?” You dug your knee harshly into his bulge. “You’re pathetic, Ajax.”
As if to prove your point, he let out a sweet moan of relief, mouth falling open against your skin and spilling out a dribble of drool.
“Slobbering all over me like a fucking dog,” you muttered. Using your grip on his hair, you yanked his head back. Though being forced away from your neck earned a tiny mewl of protest from him, he still complied without much resistance, giving you a lopsided grin when you came face to face with him again. You studied him for a moment, running your hand down his burning face and resting it on his flushed cheek, already smeared with his own saliva. Just a few seconds of not having his lips on you, and he started to grow restless again. He leaned forward on impulse, expecting you to kiss him, only for him to yelp in surprise as you shoved his head down and sent him to his knees.
“Act like a mutt, and I’ll treat you like one.”
Childe eyes gleamed. The only time they ever had any life to them was when he was gazing up at you. He gave you an obedient nod, far too eager as he tucked his legs underneath himself, waiting for your next move.
“Gonna collar me?” he asked sweetly, cocking his head to bare his throat. You weren’t sure if it was his intention, but it served as yet another reminder of the fading lovebite you’d left on his skin.
“Dogs don’t talk.”
He went quiet, a luxury you were certain would last no more than a minute or two.
You could see his hard-on clearly from this angle, the outline of his length was painfully obvious even through the thick material of his pants, visibly twitching with anticipation. Childe swiped tongue over his lips, already beginning to shift a bit in his spot. It was adorable, really, how hopeless he was when it came to staying still. There was nothing in this world that he wouldn’t do for you—he’d made that abundantly clear a long time ago—but his overzealous nature couldn’t be contained no matter how hard he tried.
His soft, impatient whine morphed into a gasp when you brought your foot down to his crotch without warning, pressing your sole against the bulging heat. Childe’s hips bucked up instantly, only to be forced back down with a warning shove from you.
“No way you're this hard already,” you taunted, trailing along the shape of his length. “Thought I’d let you fuck me, just like that?”
The way he throbbed under your foot was answer enough. You could tell it was taking every ounce of his strength not to rut up into your touch again, just to prove to you that he could be disciplined, that even a trigger-happy mad dog who acted on his most depraved wants would still do his very best for you.
“Please—mmph—I’ll be good,” he promised, voice trembling with effort. “I’ll be so good for you. Your good boy.”
“My good boy?” you echoed. They were the words Childe always yearned to hear the most from you, never failing to send him into a frenzy when they left your lips. But hearing them spat back at him with such disdain made his heart ache just as badly as his cock. “Does a good boy follow me around without permission?” You dug your heel mercilessly into his erection, making him double over with a pitiful choking sound. “Does a good boy break into my house? Take my things? Jerk off to my clothes and leave his filthy stains all over them?”
Childe’s expression didn’t disappoint. Eyes going wide in a rare display of shock, mouth hanging open uselessly—though, whether it was his surprise that had rendered him speechless, or a fresh wave of lust, you couldn’t decide.
“You’re not a good boy,” you sneered. “You’re just a whore.”
He keened, a low, primal sort of sound that made your core clench. His unsteady hands wrapped around your ankle, urging you to shift more of your weight onto his dick until you were fully stepping on it. You could hear how labored his breathing had become, see the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggled to speak.
“No, n-no,” he protested, nails digging into your leg, begging you to understand him. “I only do it to protect you. Need to keep you safe from all those rotten bastards who want you for themselves. Need to remind them that you’re mine.”
The irony of it all was almost enough to make you burst into a fit of laughter. As if there was anyone in this world you needed to be protected from other than the very man at your feet. You tilted his chin up with one finger, locking your eyes with his wild ones. Then, you drew your hand back and slapped him across the face. The sheer force of it must’ve caught him off guard, because it actually managed to swing his head to the side, sprawling his bangs over his eyes and giving you a clear view of the mark already reddening on his cheek.
“You think that justifies any of it?” you snapped. “You think you get to act like a mutt in heat in the name of protecting me?”
Recovering from the sting of your slap, Childe turned his head back to face you, jaw flexing under your fingers. As he came back into view, something twisted in your gut as you realized that he was smiling. Not only that, his length was practically ready to burst under your foot, pulsing with waves of heat that seeped through his clothing, threatening to ignite your skin.
“Sorry,” he breathed, thick with lust. “‘M really, really sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, I swear.”
He rubbed his aching cheek into your palm with a dreamy sigh, as if you hadn’t just struck him with that very hand.
“I’m so sorry. Won’t happen again, I promise. S-so please, take it easy on me, yeah?”
His tone sounded anything but apologetic, in fact, it couldn’t be more obvious that he was delighted with the situation he’d landed himself in. Coupled with the wide, insufferable smirk that had yet to leave his face, you pieced together exactly what he was trying to goad you into doing.
You grabbed hold of his jaw, digging your fingers into his flesh with little care for the whimper that slipped out of him.
“Liar.”
Childe didn’t falter. He batted his eyelashes innocently up at you, then opened his mouth wide to sink his canine teeth into the flesh between your thumb and index finger. His bite lasted for no more than a second, not strong enough to cause any real damage, but enough to make a sharp hiss rise in your throat. You freed your hand from his mouth and swung it back again instantly, coming down on his other cheek twice as hard as before. A loud, smacking sound echoed off your bedroom walls, only rivaled in volume by his sinful groan that followed.
He’d anticipated the second impact, but what neither of you had expected was the way his whole body convulsed as the rush of pain shot through his nerves. At first, when you caught his shoulders shaking, you thought the brat might actually be laughing. Then, with a weak gasp of your name, his hands flew to your foot in a panic, trying to lessen the friction and angle his hips away from your touch.
“A-ah, no, wait,” he grunted suddenly. “Too much, ‘s too much! Gonna—!”
Childe threw his head back with a broken moan, nails sinking into your ankle fiercely enough to leave behind crescent-shaped indents. The tinge of worry you’d felt for going too far soon morphed into understanding when you felt a fresh surge of warmth spreading underneath your foot, thick and moist. Just to be certain, you pressed down on his spasming cock a little harder, pleased to see the overstimulation make him writhe helplessly on the ground.
He panted as his unexpected climax started to ebb, leaving his head ducked low and his face burning with shame—a deliciously unfamiliar emotion, one that only you could ignite in him. Fighting back a smile, you tilted his chin up once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. His cheeks weren’t just flushed from the force of your slaps, anymore. The Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers was on his knees for you, blushing like a flustered virgin after making a mess in his underwear.
“Poor thing,” you cooed, rolling your heel over his soiled, twitching crotch and eliciting a small mewl from him. “Couldn’t control yourself, hm?”
He nodded miserably, hands sliding up from your ankle to grasp on to your thighs. “I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, and you knew that this time, he truly meant it. “S-so sorry, I tried to hold it in. Just felt…felt so good. I was just so happy you were touching me again.”
“Shh. It’s okay, baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair in faux sympathy. As you brushed his tousled bangs out of his eyes, he finally found it in him to look up at you again. The tenderness of your touch was almost enough to fool him, until it was sharply contrasted by the scorn laced in your words that followed, “I don’t expect much from a dumb little puppy who can only think with his dick.”
He whined in protest. His hands pawed at your thighs in a frenzy, squeezing your flesh and clinging to you with very real distress that you may actually toss him out into the snow for being so pathetic. Childe hated finishing without your permission—or, rather, he hated missing out on the addictive praises you’d shower him with when he was able to hold himself back for you. But what he hated most of all was cumming anywhere that wasn’t inside of you.
“Please, please,” he begged, leaning in to bury his face in your thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him away, only for the boy to latch on to you twice as hard. Anything you planned to say was promptly cut short when you suddenly felt his lips puckering against the inside of your thigh, pressing hot kisses to it as a meek apology. “Please,” he repeated, voice rising in pitch with each one. “Lemme make you feel good. I’m sorry, ‘m a good boy, y-your good boy.”
His kisses grew more erratic as he ventured higher and higher up until he came dangerously close to your heat. Your stomach flipped as it became clear what he wanted, fingers grasping at his scalp in a silent order for him to stop. Childe sucked in a deep breath through his nose, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip as he took in your scent with absolutely zero qualms about letting you see how much he was enjoying it. You cursed the way it made fresh wetness seep into your underwear, praying that your arousal wasn’t obvious enough for him to smell.
“Why? Why won’t you let me?” He pressed his nose back into the spot where your thighs met, trying to calm himself with shaky inhales of your essence. “Don’t…don’t get rid of me. You know I can make you feel so good. Please, let me show you.”
It was true, his mouth was good for so much more than just spewing delusions and pushing all your buttons. You shushed his rambling with a firm nudge to his torso, easing him backwards with your foot so that he was forced to let go of you and balance himself with his hands. It left him sprawled out on the floor below you, arms and legs spread wide with the embarrassing wet patch in his pants clear as day.
“Easy, baby. I’m not done with you just yet,” you assured him, ghosting your touch over his cock that, despite his orgasm, still hadn't gone fully soft. Childe swallowed audibly, but his panic at least seemed to ebb at the possibility of a second chance to satisfy you.
It was still impossible for you to wrap your head around. Someone of Tartaglia’s sheer physical strength and international influence, someone who not only had the ability to get whatever he wanted in this world, but the ambition to go after it. All that power bursting at his fingertips, and the only thing he wanted was to be under your control.
You would never understand how the maze of his mind worked, but it would be a lie to say that it didn’t give you an adrenaline rush like no other.
“Undress,” you directed. With a final flick to the leather strap wrapped around his thigh, you turned and left him there, padding towards your bed and settling on the mattress. Childe didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time he stripped, his movements uncoordinated and urgent as he fumbled with his belt. An enthusiastic puppy barely managing to follow his master’s orders when his favorite treat was dangling just within reach.
You beckoned him towards you with your finger, and he scrambled over in an instant, legs wobbly from kneeling in the same position on your wooden floor for so long. The mattress dipped as he sat next to you—almost completely on top of you. If he could have it his way, you were certain he would’ve meshed his body with yours and never let go. Your eyes scoured over his bare form, illuminated by the low light; it was impossible not to. Every time you saw him again, his shoulders seemed to have gotten a little broader, his muscles flexed with newfound strength, plenty of fresh scars and bruises decorating his skin like badges of honor. New additions to his wounds never escaped your notice, not when you were more intimately familiar with the map of his body than even Childe himself.
Old habits taking over, you reached out your hand, tentatively brushing along the recently gained injuries littering his skin. A long, rippling one across his toned stomach, several punctures on his chest that almost resembled the sharp teeth of some animal, a thick bump of healing flesh on his shoulder from a particularly deep wound. You traced over all of them with the same care you did when he was still the man you loved.
Maybe he was right, you never changed.
Childe’s eyes were half-lidded with contentment, never more at peace than when he was under your undivided attention like this. Tender fingers touching him like he was the most precious treasure in the world, keen eyes observing every last detail of his body to lock safely away in your brain. It was his own personal heaven. Your gaze gradually wandered further down, taking in his built chest, the lean muscles of his abdomen, the trail of soft, red hairs forming under his belly button, and finally, his length resting against his thigh. Just as you’d suspected, it was still half-hard, already beginning to twitch under your attentive stare as more and more blood rushed south, reddining its tip. Evidence of his earlier release was still splattered all over his dick and thighs, slick and glistening from his own mess.
With a start, you realized you’d been staring for far too long. You snapped your eyes back up in a flash before he could get the wrong idea, only for embarrassment to wash over you when you saw the sick elation written all over his face.
“You can stare all you want, y’know,” he giggled. “It’s yours.”
You hardened your expression again, leaning back against the headboard of your bed with what you hoped was an air of indifference. Even if his words set every one of your nerve endings ablaze, that was something best kept a secret. He was already manic enough as is.
“Let’s see if it’s worth calling mine.”
Spreading your legs, you took your sweet time removing your layers of clothing, acutely aware of his ravenous eyes fixated on your every move. As you unclasped your bra, his gaze dropped to your breasts with a speed that had your lips twitching in amusement. He was so transparent in moments like these, nothing cunning about him. His hands twitched at his sides, mouth watering with desire, but even so, he remained put, fighting the urge to lunge forward and bury himself in your chest with all his might.
Your fingers paused under the waistband of your underwear, an idea coming to mind.
“Wanna touch, puppy? Take them off for me.”
Childe’s breath hitched. The order had barely left your lips before erratic fingers were tugging at the garment, as careful as he could manage when in a state like this. You could feel the effort it took him to restrain himself, animalistic need bubbling under the surface of his skin as he slid your underwear off, eyeing the soaked fabric longingly for several heartbeats before swallowing hard and placing it to the side.
The look he gave you, earnestly awaiting your praise for not pressing his nose into the underwear like he’d so obviously wanted to, almost broke your facade. But you couldn’t give it to him yet. It was your private way of punishing him, however futile it might seem in comparison to the unstoppable tidal wave of his obsession. Withholding the approval that he depended on so heavily in the hopes that one day, you might be able to wean him off of it entirely.
Instead, you simply motioned for him to settle in the space between your thighs, ignoring his disappointed sulking. His dick rested against your folds, heavy and sticky with his own seed.
“F-fuck.” His hips jolted forward involuntarily, drawn to your dripping heat with all the natural force of a magnet. “Please, can I put it in? Please?”
He sounded like he may actually break into tears if you denied him any longer. It sparked something within you that was always lying dormant, no matter how tirelessly you’d tried to force it down until it was buried away for good. The need to comfort him, to satiate him just enough so that he wouldn’t spin completely out of your control—or at least, the illusion of control. You reached up to brush his bangs back, relishing in the brief sense of normalcy it brought you when he rested his cheek in the cradle of your palm.
“Come on in, baby.”
Childe fumbled with his cock for a moment, a tiny, frustrated sound forming in his throat before he was able to line its tip up with your entrance. He pushed past the slippery folds bit by bit at first, then, instinct getting the best of him, sank into you all at once with a powerful snap of his hips. You tightened around him instantly, adjusting to that familiar stretch that your body would recognize as his every single time without fail. His length had always fit inside of you so well, like two pieces of a puzzle, as he so gleefully loved to remind you when he was gushing lovesick nonsense into your ear.
The moan that slipped out of him as he bottomed out was pure sin. Drawn-out and broken and turning up in pitch at the end, almost like he was in pain. For a moment, you thought he might have actually cum again, just from the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. But his cock was still rock hard as it twitched inside of you. In fact, you could feel it growing bigger the more your walls squeezed around him, taking on every inch of his shape, pressing against every ridge and vein.
“I’m s-still,” he gasped, body slumping forward. “Still sensitive.”
You cupped your palm against the blazing hot skin of his face, tender to the touch where you’d slapped him. You rubbed his cheek delicately for a moment before trailing down to his neck. His pulse raced with adrenaline under your fingers as you wrapped them around his throat, pressing down on its sides to grab his attention.
“You wanted to make me feel good, right?” you frowned. “Now’s your chance. Fuck me like a good boy.”
Childe’s eyes clouded over, the words fogging up his mind like he’d fallen into a trance. You could feel the vibrations of his moan rumbling against your palm as he gave you a shaky, obedient nod, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and forcing himself to pull out despite his hypersensitivity. You tried not to think too hard about how your walls ached at the loss, immediately longing to feel him filling you up again. And like a good boy, he did exactly that.
Slowly, he eased back into you, inch after inch until his cock was almost entirely sheathed in your pillowy heat. You both sighed in unison, an undeniable sense of relief overtaking you that you were sure to reprimand yourself for later. He took a few extra seconds to bask in your wet warmth before pulling back out again, his trembling breaths puffing out against your face as he began to properly rock his hips. Each burst of pleasure he felt was accompanied by a tinge of overstimulation that made his brain go haywire, and after just a few agonizing thrusts, he was reduced to a wreck above you.
“So—fuck!” he choked out, barely able to string a sentence together when your walls sucked his cock back in so seamlessly every time, taking any coherent thoughts along with it. “So good, f-feels so fucking good. I missed you. Missed being inside you so much.” His forehead fell against yours, the pace of his strokes gradually picking up until he found a steady flow. You dragged your nails down his throat, encouraging him to keep going in the language he understood best.
“You…ah…feel so perfect around me,” he whimpered, lips brushing against yours, so rife with desperation that you could taste it dripping off of them. “So warm and soft. So…so wet.” He interrupted his rhythm suddenly to pull all the way out of your pussy before slamming himself back inside in one fluid motion. It created an especially obscene smacking sound, emphasizing his words and making his stomach twist with gratification.
The swollen head of his dick dragged against your sweet spot as he did, earning a soft moan from you that you couldn’t suppress. Childe throbbed inside of you, visibly ecstatic over the smallest indication that he was pleasing you right. Eager to draw more sounds out of you, he repeated the action, taking on an uncharacteristically careful pace that had your composure slipping further and further each time he filled you to the brim.
“Only I can make you this wet, right?” To anyone else, it might’ve sounded like he was simply stroking his own ego, but you knew better than that. He was genuinely asking, he needed to hear it from you like the oxygen he needed to breathe. “Only I get to—hah—feel you around me like this, fill you up like this. Make you feel g-good. Only me, right?”
You could’ve blamed it on the pleasure muddling your mind and allowing your heart to take over, but that was far more damning an admission of how you truly felt about the mess of a man sinking himself so deep inside you that you’d think he wanted to meld his body to yours. Swallowing down another moan, your hands found the back of his head again and tangled in his damp, fluffy hair.
“You think anyone else is filthy enough to do what you do?” you answered with a breathless question of your own. It wasn’t exactly the doting response he’d hoped for, but it was more than enough to placate him for now. His lips crashed into yours, tiny huffs rising in his throat and spilling into your mouth as he returned to his breakneck speed from earlier. The sudden whiplash his change of pace brought might have caught you by surprise if you hadn’t known Childe so well. Slow and steady never lasted long with him.
His kisses were a whirlwind of teeth nipping at your lips and drool coating your tongue, every bit as intense as his thrusts, like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs and selfishly keep that for himself, too.
Even if you didn’t say it, he was right—no one else could make you feel the things you experienced with him. No one else could ever replicate his essence; animalistic, but not purely in a chase for mindless pleasure, he was far too passionate for that. It was a chase for you, a perfect balance of primal and emotional craving that only you could provide him.
Your head was spinning by the time you forced him to break the kiss, drunk on all the moans he’d emptied into your mouth that still managed to be so loud despite your lips muffling them. Childe didn’t miss a beat before diving back into you, pressing sloppy kisses to the corner of your mouth, licking a messy stripe down your jaw, and latching on to your neck. The sensation of his canines pricking your skin made your body jolt in a different kind of way—bringing you back to your senses.
“No,” you warned him. “No biting. Bad boy.”
His hips stuttered, a wrench thrown into his frantic pattern of thrusts as he was denied by you yet again. It was cruel, really, for you to expect him to anchor himself long enough to form a response. He was so far gone, already, only able to peer up at you with wide, pitiful eyes.
“H-huh? But…please,” he resorted to begging right away. “Please, please, please. ‘S not fair. Everything’s faded, there’s no—ngh—!” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his hips to a stop long enough to gather his words. “All my marks are gone. P-please, need to make new ones. Need everyone to know you’re mine.”
His teeth dragged helplessly over your flesh, threatening to sink right back in at any moment. Your mind raced. Marks were far more tangible than an unwanted memory that you could banish to the depths of your conscience. Marks left evidence of your mistakes, taunting you with your own body each time you caught sight of your reflection. The marks you’d left on Childe were exactly what had landed you in this situation in the first place.
“No, Ajax. Do I need to muzzle you?”
He whined low in his throat, already beginning to grind into you again, pressing his cock against the ridges of your walls in a way that was so dizzying it made rational thought an impossible feat.
“If I don’t…” he panted. “Someone might t-try something with you and I’ll just have to kill them, instead. You don’t want that, right? Right?”
His words made you stiffen all over again, an ice-cold, brutal dose of reality crashing back over you like a crack had formed in your walls and allowed some of the raging blizzard outside to seep through. In your alarm, you squeezed around his dick even tighter than before, making him collapse into you with an angelic sigh that was so wildly detached from what he’d just said, it was almost comical.
“Or…do you?” he mused, drawing playful patterns against your skin with his lips. “Want me to—ah—prove myself to you, yeah? I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll do anything for you.”
You said nothing, simply tilting your jaw back and pushing his head into the crook of your neck to grant him permission. With a grateful hum, Childe parted his lips, latching on to the patch of skin right below your jaw and suckling like his life depended on it. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d deliberately chosen a spot high up so it’d be difficult for you to cover with your clothing. He gradually began rocking his hips into you once more, picking up the delicious buildup of pressure in your stomach exactly where it left off.
It made you feel a tinge of disgust with yourself—wanting nothing more to be free of this man one second, then shamelessly using his battered body for your indulgence the next. But just like everything else surrounding Tartaglia, there was no single, clear answer to your feelings towards him, there was nothing black and white about it.
You didn’t have time to brood over it for long, as the slew of sensations overtaking your body quickly consumed your thoughts again. The combination of his teeth devouring your neck and his length pumping a delicious friction inside of you was nothing short of addictive. It drew all your focus back to him at once, like he’d sensed that your attention had slipped off of him for a minute and greedily tried to snatch it back.
Not satisfied with just one lovebite, he quickly moved on to the base of your throat to create another. More, more, more, he always wanted more. His canines sank into your skin deep enough to make your back arch, rolling his cockhead against the roof of your walls and dribbling a pool of saliva onto your neck as his mouth fell open in a groan. Every sharp prick of his teeth was accompanied by a soothing lick over the damaged area afterwards, as if to apologize for being unable to control himself.
“Crazy, crazy, crazy,” he babbled against your shoulder. “You make me s-so fucking crazy.”
“I don’t make you anything.” It was hard to sound as stern as you wanted to when your voice was so full of lust. “You’re like this all by yourself. A mutt that only knows how to fuck.”
A high-pitched whine met your ears at that, hands grasping your hips to pull you impossibly closer to him, plunging his length into the deepest parts of you. Your whole body jolted with pleasure, thighs wrapping around him and ankles locking behind his waist to trap him close to you. Childe finally pulled away from the crook of your neck, utterly lovestruck as he studied the array of marks he’d left all over your neck and shoulders.
“Did that feel good?” As expected, he’d caught on to your reaction immediately, even when you’d thought he was too busy making a meal of your throat to notice. “Am I—hah—making you feel good? Please, t-tell me ‘m doing well for you. Just wanna be a good boy.”
Endless praises for him danced on your tongue, yearning to be set free. The closer your orgasm drew, the harder it became to restrain them.
“Please.” He repeated the motion, and its effects hit you twice as strong this time, twisting the coil in your stomach so tight it was unbearable.
You relented. The ways he’d use himself for your pleasure were frighteningly easy to get hooked on, but that alone had never been the reason you let Childe back in, time and time again. It was the look of pure, unbridled need in his eyes, more irresistible than anything his body could make you feel and more honest than anything that could come out of his mouth. Raw, innocent love. You knew better than to believe most of the lies he fed you, but you would never be able to deny the fact that he loved you.
“It’s good, baby. You fill me up so well. Doing such a good job for me,” You appeased him at last, sickeningly sweet, reaching up to pet his head for good measure. “Keep it up, okay?”
His head fell into your chest, all the power of his arm muscles effectively rendered useless as they crumbled under his weight upon hearing a few simple words of approval from you. The sounds he let out eclipsed yours in volume as his hips pistoned inside of you, hellbent on bringing you to your climax. He breathed in your scent as he nestled his face between your breasts, pressing feverish kisses into the soft flesh and sucking fresh marks wherever he could. It came slurred and incoherent at first, but eventually, amidst the creaking of your bed and the smacks of skin, you realized he was saying something. Or rather, repeating something.
“M-mine—ngh. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he chanted. The closer you listened, the less they sounded like possessive growls and more like desperate whimpers, pleading for it to be true. For you to agree, to let him know that you craved him just as carnally as he craved you.
His hands slid down from your breasts to grip your thighs where they were wrapped around his waist, pawing needily at them in a thinly-veiled desire to push your legs back and bury his cock as far into your heat as your bodies would allow. However deep he was inside of you, he needed to be deeper, he needed to reach parts of you that no one else but him could ever touch. The only thing stopping his insatiable greed was the remaining few shreds of his sanity, telling him to control himself, to be good for you, to show you that he deserved to be yours.
You could practically hear the pleas on his tongue without him having to speak a word.
Not enough. More, more, more. Need you more.
“You’re such a greedy puppy, y’know that?” you clicked your tongue. Using your legs’ hold around his waist, you raised your lower half off the mattress just enough to press fully against his pelvic bone, granting his wish and pushing his dick further inside you. Childe keened your name, his brain short circuiting for a few moments before he remembered to resume his thrusts, slipping his hands under your back to help support you.
“Th-thank you, thank you,” he stammered. “Fuck, can’t get enough. Wanna stay like this forever.”
Coming from him, you knew it wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. The new angle was dangerously electrifying with how it allowed him to roll his tip perfectly into your sweet spot every time he sank into you. It wasn’t long before that familiar feeling in your core reached its limit, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped all at once. You sucked in a sharp breath, thighs squeezing around his hips so fiercely that it became difficult for him to move. Still, completely lost in you, Childe continued grinding diligently, making each wave of your climax all the more intense as his length didn’t falter its strokes once.
His eyes snapped open as he processed your walls clenched wildly around him, darting down to study the spot where he was thrusting into you. You could see the moment it clicked in his head as he noticed the fresh juices dripping from your slit and coating his cock, his entire face lighting up with a giddy grin.
“Did you cum?” he asked breathlessly. “You—hah—you came, right? I made you feel good, right? Did I do a good job?” He lowered his head again, nuzzling his sweaty face against yours in ecstasy.
The aftereffects of your high were still in full swing, a light, floating sensation replacing the complicated web of emotions you’d been working fruitlessly to detangle up until now. Overcome with bliss, you finally stopped trying to fight back the affection banging at the confines of your heart, begging to be set free and reach him.
“Mm. Good boy, Ajax,” you murmured at last, pressing an encouraging kiss to his forehead. “You did so well for me, baby. My good boy.”
The final thread in Childe’s brain snapped. A violent shudder rippled through his whole body, hips bucking forward reflexively as the words he’d been driving himself mad to hear finally graced his ears.
“O-oh, God,” he choked out, nails clawing pitifully at your back. “Again—ngh—please, say it again.”
All the added slickness from your climax allowed his cock to slide in and out of you even faster than before, and given how manic he was, the force of his thrusts quickly had your sensitive insides burning.
“You’re my good boy, Ajax.” It was a challenge to keep your voice from shaking when he was rutting into you with reckless abandon, no longer able to restrain himself. “My one and only. No one makes me feel as good as you.”
He suckled at your collarbone with a sweet, high-pitched whine that completely juxtaposed his intense movements, hands grabbing and squeezing at your flesh erratically, just trying to have as much of his skin in contact with yours as possible.
“I l-love you. Love you, love you, love you, love you.”
For once, you were grateful for his mindless babbling, because it left no space for you to have to say anything in return. Maybe, in the very back of Childe’s fucked out mind, he was thinking the same thing. If he kept repeating the words over and over himself, he wouldn’t have to face the silence that followed when you didn’t return his declarations of love.
“Love you s’ much—ah! ‘M gonna lose it.” His dick pulsed inside of you, giving you a warning of its own. “Can I, please? Wanna c-cum inside, fill you up. Want you to always be full of me. Only me.”
Despite already reaching your own peak, his pleas made your toes curl all over again. It was so tempting to deny him, just to hear him grovel for you a bit more, but your walls were already overstimulated from the nonstop, merciless pace he’d taken on after you’d climaxed; you weren’t sure how much more you could take, either. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you clenched tightly around him, adding a mind-numbing pressure to his every stroke.
“You can let go, baby,” you encouraged. “Cum for me like a good boy.”
That was all it took for Childe to fall apart. Pushing his cock as deep inside of you as he could, his high crashed over him in an all-consuming tidal wave. You could feel his stomach flexing rapidly against your clit, broken cries and curses falling from his mouth as ripple after ripple of pleasure passed through him. Spurts of his release coated your walls with each one. Even after cumming once already, there was still so much of his seed spilling inside of you, hot and thick enough for you to feel as it filled you up. He never gave you anything less than his all, and this was no exception.
As the peak of his climax began to fade, so did his string of moans, quieting down into weak whimpers until he was left panting above you, shoulders rising and falling in exhaustion. He swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, then parted his lips to say something. But all that came out was a giggle; boyish, cute, and utterly infectious. Coupled with how innocent his eyes looked, blown-out wide so that the black eclipsed the blue, you felt yourself melt a little.
Childe at last removed his hands from under your back, still trying to catch his breath as he slumped his body weight on top of you like a blanket. You huffed at the impact, but your arms slipped their way naturally around him nonetheless. He hadn’t pulled a single inch out of you, even after readjusting his position, and as he nestled his head into the pillow of your chest, you could guess why.
“Can we stay like this a bit?” he mumbled, as close to shy as he ever got around you. “Want you to remember my shape inside you. Wanna remember how you feel around me when I’m gone.”
Reminded once again of his upcoming departure, you couldn’t have rejected him even if you’d wanted to. With a murmur of agreement, you reached up to play with his hair, curling your index finger around the unruly blond streak that stuck out in his bangs.
It was moments like these where the reality of what had just happened should’ve shattered your peace, extinguishing the afterglow with dread and regret—but that was never the case. Seeing him so docile in your arms, drowsy from pushing himself to the limit and clinging to you to stay grounded, only added to your bliss. If you could just contain him like this, keep him secure and satiated so that none of his poison could seep out and harm anyone else, then that was enough for you.
He blinked his eyes open to watch you as you played gently with locks of his dampened hair, a dreamy, lopsided smile plastered to his face. His gaze flickered lower down, admiring the utter chaos he’d unleashed on your body—neck, chest, and shoulders all littered with deep, blossoming lovebites and very clear indents of his teeth. A thought seemed to occur to him, because suddenly he didn’t look quite so pleased with himself.
“You didn’t leave any on me,” he pouted. “Mine are fading too, y’know. I can barely see them anymore.”
He used some of his waning strength to tilt his head back as proof, and you tried not to grimace. It had been a very intentional decision on your part, even if the sight of his bared neck, ripe for the taking, had been tempting enough to make your mouth water as he’d rutted into you. You’d forced yourself to keep your mouth off of him, in the feeble hope that he wouldn’t be able to use it against you the next time you found him sitting at your doorstep.
“I hate it,” he added with a grumble. “I hate it when there’s no trace of you on my body. Doesn’t feel right. I'm yours.”
“You have my ring, don’t you?” In an attempt to soothe him before he could get riled up again, you cradled his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together in a way that made him look so harmless it was almost cruel. He considered what you’d said for a moment, his thumb coming to rub subconsciously over the silver band with a fond expression. Still, you could tell you hadn’t entirely swayed him.
“Mmm, but I want more. I’m greedy, right?” he imitated your words with a childish lilt. “So, you can just give me new ones tomorrow when we wake up. Please?”
You pressed your lips together. There it was—the beginnings of a crack forming in the illusion, exposing it in all its fragility. “Ajax,” you said lightly. “I have to be up early, remember?”
“Do you?”
He tilted his head, chin still perched on your chest. It was an unassuming gesture, cute even, but it made your skin crawl with unease. Of course. He’d seen through your bluff from the very beginning—he of all people would be acutely aware of what your schedule looked like the next day, after all. It was pointless to even consider lying to him about it.
Though he’d more or less just announced that he knew you were deceiving him, he didn’t look upset in the slightest. Instead, he shifted his body so that he could lay on his side, pulling you along with him and letting out a soft grunt as his length rolled against your insides in the process.
“Let me sing you to sleep then, like I promised.”
He nestled back into you in a heartbeat, slotting his body against yours as he laid his head back against your chest and began to hum a gentle tune. It was one you recognized from the very first note, one you used to call your favorite. The sound of it made your entire being ache with nostalgia, mourning the past, mourning this current moment. Guided by the honey-sweet melody, you started running your hand up and down his back, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed that oleander voice to lull you to sleep.
USURPER / YANDERE KAMISATO AYATO — part two to [Sufferance], and the final of [Dysfunctional Marriage]
Summary: Ayato’s plans for you get ruined when your mental health collapses. He believes he can fix you, however, a tragedy occurs.
Not suitable for minors or anyone uncomfortable with the mentioned triggers! You’re reading this at your own responsibility. Reader is really going through it all along with losing her mind, and the story is very dark. Check the warnings twice before you read it.
CW: fem reader / past non-con mentions / eating disorder / suicidal thoughs and idealition / suicide attempt with graphic depictions / gore / injuries / thoughts about abortion and self-mutilation / self-harm / heavy depression and other mental suffering / tokophobia / forced pregnancy mentions / mentions of infanticide / forced feeding / vomiting / suggestive / ayato is very selfish and manipulative / forced marriage / body horror / groveling / nightmares / heavy angst with no comfort and there’s not really any happy ending. Word count: 14,4k.
I will not lie, I cried while writing this work, but I think this is how realistic reader's suffering would be, considering what has been mentioned in the first part.
Doing an inspection on your belly in front of the mirror has become a regular routine for you. Every day, in quantity of multiple times, your mind forced you to stand here and watch out for any change in the lower body’s size — any bloating or roundness, small or terrifyingly going ahead of your feet.
Seeing your reflection was the most difficult after eating — naturally, your stomach would expand being full — making you paranoid that it’s the pregnancy you’ve been willing to escape. Your phobia has reached a point where you decreased your food intake just to avoid the sight you’d dread the most.
However, sometimes you had to quickly move away from the mirror, being reminded of what had transpired few weeks ago. Ayato stripping you, both figuratively and literally, imprinted a memory in your mind so vivid and harsh the visions of it constantly haunted your imagination.
It shouldn’t have made any sense any other day, considering you were used to Ayato repeatedly forcing you to bed with him under an excuse of participating in a marital duty — in his words, not one sided, supposedly with an effort from his side too. But this one time, being exposed and made to finally witness what he’s been doing to you almost everyday thanks to that cursed mirror, reminding you of how bad the act actually was, or how shameful your body was to still react to it, is what pushed you to be scared to close your eyes in case you’d be hit with the picture.
You didn’t like seeing yourself naked in the mirror either, not willing to see a bump or invisible marks his hands have left, so any inspection was done through the layers of kimono. The only comfort you received was when your period came, signaling you’re not pregnant; that is until your body becomes malnourished enough to be deprived of menstruation. And couldn’t women have a slight bleeding, spotting, when they’re pregnant?
Ayato still hasn’t stripped you of the form of birth control, a fact confusing yet making you live in constant distress from the uncertainty he was leaving you in. Your mind suspected it could be any second when he decides it’s the time for you to conceive, just needing to decide which occasion would be most optimal, with your life having been figured out from the very first moment of your marriage. Deciding for you was only his right, being a whole believer he knows what’s best for you despite not even once being in your mind. Your clan wasn’t your clan either, with him making decisions along with you; never you alone, but you wouldn’t receive the same luxury of choosing for his clan.
As your legal guardian, he could have made you do anything really.
More confusing, the fact he hasn’t touched you much lately. Perhaps you’ve became ugly to him, looking all miserable upon your ongoing distress you’ve been buried in the entire time starting from that night; or perhaps he was torturing you by making you believe he gave up on idea, just to punch you with it when least expected and with you starting to relaxing.
You definitely have lost some weight, you noticed when deciding to finally get away from the object intensifying your frighten; especially when you felt as if soon, you’d be hallucinating about being heavily pregnant with your breasts painfully swelled and leaking colostrum that would turn into breast milk hours after going through labour.
Pregnancy couldn’t happen when it wasn’t about having a family, but your husband having taken the last part of you to steal — the gift of being able to create life, cursing your womb with his seed and your body with a reminder of him.
As you left the room, you froze in spot when hearing a voice behind you.
“You’re here again,” it said with a sigh. “Let’s go, servants have set up the table, and it’d be rude to waste their work because you didn’t eat.”
You slowly turned around, not willing to see your spouse so soon after the war your mind has just went through, as if to intensify your unpleasant memories.
“Ah… I’m not hungry—”
“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer. You’ve lost too much weight,” his voice was stern, but not unpleasant — yet. You took a step back when he moved closer to you, and flinched when he put a hand between your shoulder blades to lead you.
Even traveling through the obnoxiously long and creaky floors, the trap set for assassins yet feeling directed at you, your mind was a tangled yarn of thought; pushed through the odd haze and fog your covering any rationality lately. What bothered you was the fact that Ayato hasn’t yet acknowledged the issue of you watching your body and guarding it. He for sure would have noticed everything about you, so him acting ignorant made you worried that perhaps he doesn’t care about how you feel about future children, with the only right answer you having them anyway.
You suddenly noticed something about yourself too — your legs moved, and you were breathing, and others actually perceived your physical form. You were a real person, flesh and bones, not watching some dream your head played. It was all real, and the person you’ve been seeing in the mirror wasn’t an illusion your mind has created.
You paused in your steps.
Ayato looked at you, a brow raised. “Is there a reason for you stopping us?”
“I’m real, aren’t I?” you asked, stuck in some stupor, and lifted up your hand to feel your now cold face; your blood no longer as warm as it used to be, and having removed any glow from it.
Ayato’s eyes showed confusion at your question, not sure why you’d be asking him something above obvious; until his eyes were pensive and he sighed, understanding the implication no matter you didn’t.
“Yes, you are indeed real, my dear. You’re my wife, walking with me to go and eat dinner.”
After entering the dining room, with you placed on the seat by his side, Thoma was soon to bring in different dishes — ones you’ve frowned upon already. The cruel fate, you were about to look bloated again and maybe it’ll turn into a child that an archon has put in you, and maybe that baby will eat at your organs from inside and take away everything from you the same way has done; a baby looking just like Ayato—
You jumped in your seat when Thoma placed his hand on your shoulder. “My lady, are you feeling unwell? Please, you’ve been staring at the food and not eating… It’s not good for you.”
You looked between Ayato and Thoma. The contrast between these two could drive you insane — Thoma’s motherly look and Ayato’s sternness — but you knew better to separate them from each other. Thoma was still Ayato’s most loyal subject, not yours, and while he could care for you there’s things he’d not do for you.
“I’m not hungry. I don’t have any appetite,” you protested, your distress quickly reaching familiar, uncomfortable levels.
Your head snapped to the side when hearing your husband’s firm tone, “I’m afraid it’s not the matter of you having appetite at this point. You should eat regardless, as you’re ruining your own health.”
You’d like to tell him it’s all of his fault, that you’re not being defiant but had your mind to be destroyed by him, but when are you ever being heard?
When you stood up to leave and flight, a hand grabbed your wrist and shoved you down onto your seat, provoking a trashing motion in your body to do anything to defend yourself.
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, dear, but you leave me no other choice.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
With Thoma holding your body from behind, having moved here without you even noticing, Ayato’s hand gripped your jaw and forced your mouth open. That made you feel as if you were choking already, until he shoved not even chopsticks but a ramen spoon into your mouth, filled with as many added ingredients and little of soup as possible.
You gasped and you tried to spit food out, only for him to have predicted your move and shut your mouth, forcing you to chew and swallow. “Eat it. You’re not getting away until you have eaten something,” he warned, lowering some harshness in it to not startle you too much.
All the plans of forced feeding were ruined when your throat made a lurching sound and both men quickly gave you space, realizing what’s about to happen.
With your stomach kicking out everything, so basically none, it was landing on the tatami; with the acid smell managing to soak into these.
One of them, if it wasn’t imaginary, rubbed your back soothingly.
The housekeeper was kind enough to wipe your mouth with a napkin, not once judging or frowning at the disgusting mess you’ve created. It couldn’t be more disgusting than blood or flesh.
“Please take her to our room, Thoma. I’ll have a servant come and clean this mess,” your husband ordered and left ahead of you two. The mind worked to assumed it was truth he hated you and found you unattractive, as the duty of being a caring husband was ruined with him abandoning you here… which didn’t bring a negative impact on you to its fullest potential. You felt like a leftover of a person when he avoided you, yet you were comforted by the fact he wasn’t there.
You reveled in not having been touched for weeks.
“Let’s go, my lady.” Thoma helped you stood up, and with carefulness, he lead your step back to your gilded cage.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to voice out his request for you, until he gathered enough courage, “I’m aware your body cannot handle food, but can I at least offer you some mint tea? You must be dehydrated, and as much as I don’t want to scare you, you must know this condition could even kill you.”
Your stomach twisted at the idea of expanding your organ. However, death seemed like a worse option. Although, entertaiing the idea of death has been on your mind everyday. If you're dead, he can't reach you here. Sufferance can't reach you. Truly, what else did you have to push forward, other than the sense of pride and stubbornness? If anything, you might be an idiot; delusional, believing in someone coming to save you or you being shook awake and told the nightmare is over. “Alright, but just a little…” It was a matter of choosing a lesser evil.
“Yes, just a little.”
•
Falling asleep has come to you at the moment that felt random, despite late hour. Keeping up with time has shaped into difficult lately, your mind whirling and not being sure if it’s been minutes or hours that have passed.
You only could have predicted it must be that late when Ayato finally has joined you on your shared futon, stirring you out of your sleep.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to awake you,” his voice was calm, but laced with his typical tiredness. Perhaps if your marriage was… more consensual, you would be helping him with work, as his own mother had to. Yet with Ayato having pressured you into a difficult situation, one meant to fill you with unwillingness, and work was a risk of communicating with others, he had you as if some sort of eye catcher to appear at his side during guest visits instead. That’s all you were, really, a sign of his wealth.
Living with a lot of time on your hands was a perfect argument to call you ungrateful for not liking the situation if you didn’t have to work much, disregarding the fact it wasn’t about money but freedom, and not being raped, and not being forced to have children, and not being shoved through mind-torturing games.
You only hummed in response, and didn’t try to move away when he laid down next to you and gathered you in his arms. Your mind refused to see it as affection, other than a way to make you feel as if you’re caged to him even your sleep.
Even more when he stroked your face, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Can I expect you to wake up early tomorrow, my dear?” he might have used a tone so soft, if it wasn’t ruined with the fact it wasn’t really a request — just polite way to tell you what to do and check your obedience.
“What’s happening tomorrow?” you asked, your voice uncertain. Any plans Ayato had made with you usually were unpleasant ones, so you safely assumed next time would be just the same.
“We have a doctor visiting us. He needs to check up on you, considering your terrible condition. I am still your legal guardian, so it’s only my responsibility to take care of your health.”
His face turned to be suddenly of confusion when you started to shake in his arms, and your breath was so irregular it turned into hyperventilating. “What’s wrong? It’s just a small visit, you won’t be poked with needles or…”
Only you could have understood your own mind, despite his belief of superiority over your intellect, as words he said were read in the most paranoid way. A doctor. Women who are trying to conceive have to seek out a doctor first. A doctor makes sure they’re healthy enough to carry a child and helps them prepare. That’s why this future father must be intending that, wasn’t he? He has left you alone for weeks, only to crush you back with what he’d planned that unfortunate night. “Two children… you want a family too… you’ll get used to it…”
Your mind didn’t even conclude of the doctor appointment being for your ongoing malnourishment — it couldn’t have when you were scared of something much bigger.
“No, Ayato, please, I’m not ready!” you begged with hysteria and words so familiar to you, proving you distress furthermore when broke into tears, the same pattern from back then.
“I don’t understand why you’re so shaken up, my dear. It’s just a doctor visit and nothing bad will happen. I’m merely making sure you are healthy,” his voice still carried confusion, but he didn’t dare to shame you for your state if it’d make you only worse. He could tell you weren’t being whiny nor faking your behavior, and with still so many questions in mind, he decided to deal with the problem first. “When something strange happens, instead of trying to find out the what could have caused it, it is better to look at the situation itself” — was his common cold logic you’ve hated so much as it didn’t take your emotions into account, forcing you to bottle them up and feel neglected.
He sighed and grabbed your hand, squeezing it hard to attempt grounding you. “My dear, I promise you, nothing bad awaits you tomorrow. Now, breathe with me.”
You couldn’t, not in eyes of paranoid head overthinking and cherrypicking his words-“nothing bad awaits you tomorrow”, so any other day something bad will happen.
Ayato for once cursed under his breath, grasping how serious the situation was.
He was quick to call out for Thoma, who appeared in a matter of few seconds, having recognising the unusual, urgent tone in his master’s tone. “What’s going on, my lord-“ he rushed out, assuming the worst. He was right when he noticed your state, and he quickly kneeled down to both of you. “Oh no, is she having a panic attack?”
“It’d appear so. Thoma, that doctor who was supposed to be here tomorrow, go and send someone to seek him out now. I’m afraid his presence here cannot wait anymore.”
The man was quickly on the case, standing up. “Understood, my lord.” He ran out of the room, knowing the doctor can’t really refuse even if his house was to be burning — that’s how important Kamisato were.
You were reactive again at the news, finally and at long last actually unable to breathe at the notion of doctor coming now. When the helper noticed your passing out figure, he spoke to you loudly, “No, don’t pass out. Stay awake. Just focus on my voice—”
Alas, you were out like a light.
•
Opening your eyes couldn’t be pleasant with a sight of an unfamiliar man, possibly an another on list of people to decide this woman hasn’t suffered enough. With your yukata open, he was using a stethoscope on your chest, chilling you with the coldness of its metal.
Sounds didn’t reach your ears fully yet — they sounded muffled and distant, blurring into one mess.
You were shaken more awake with this man waving his hand in front of your face. “Lady Kamisato, can you hear us? Please don’t worry, you are safe.”
You tried to shove the hand away, being annoyed by it obstructing your vision, but you couldn’t even lift up your own. Your body felt so limp, additionally, as if it weighed almost nothing, blending into the futon under you.
You had to depend on your voice then, too brittle to be called alive. “No… stop this…”
“My apologies.” The doctor moved his hand away from your face, and acknowledged another person in the room. With your ears getting clear, you made it clear to be your husband. “She should be fine, for now. Her heart was elevated too much, but I suspect it’s not just stress but dehydration and malnutrition. There’s a few things we can do, but… it’ll require her cooperation, for which we need to get her into a better… mental constitution first.”
Your voice caught only few words from the doctor, but Ayato’s voice, you heard clearly. You were so scared of him you’d recognize it even through the miles, being wary of him ever approaching you — “I see. How long until the tranquilizer wears off?”
“Give it an hour or two.”
You flinched when you felt a hand on your forehead, gliding your hair back. The futon shifted under a new weight. You finally managed to move your heavy eyes to look at your husband. You weren’t sure if you were this delusional, if he looked sort of worried to you. Maybe it wasn’t worry towards you but what your behavior could cause? “You have quite scared me, my dear wife. You weren’t breathing and then… you collapsed,” his voice sounded less confident too.
Your thoughts wandered to your theory from before. Wasn’t the doctor here to check up on you to make sure you can start for a child? “Ayato… why is the doctor here?” Even in your sedated state you had to make sure you’re in control of the situation, with some awareness of it.
He looked at you with a frown, assuming it should have been obvious after all the weeks worth of degradation in your health. “Well, the priority was to help you and make sure you’re alright after your attack the last night. But the initial intention was related to your latest… stress and lowered food intake. You have not been yourself, and you’ve lost too much weight. I’m sure it affected your body a lot too.”
You weighed his words, trying to look for any hidden agenda. “It’s about my health? Not about pregnancy?” you asked, your eyes so wide from fear and shock.
The doctor and Ayato looked at each other in confusion. “Pregnancy? Are you telling me you’re pregnant?” Ayato’s gaze was now intense, needing to know the truth, and his heart raced, both in dread as it wasn’t a right moment, and excitement as it’s still a mention of what he’s wanted. He assumed you were saying you suspect you’re pregnant and have been hiding it from him, despite it being weeks since the last time he was intimate with you, possibly your stomach just not growing much yet… albeit, if that was the case, your child would be in extreme danger with your body state.
“No!” you quickly protested, no matter if weakly with your state. At least you hoped you weren’t pregnant, considering your paranoia. “I just thought… the doctor here is to… prepare me for it…”
His gaze relaxed, but the frown didn’t leave, and disappointment burned. You were saying such weird things lately; especially now. “No, that’s not the reason for his visit… now is the worst time for you to be getting pregnant.” You swore you saw some dissatisfaction for the moment.
Ayato was off-put by your assumption too, when you were acting more worried about the possibility of getting pregnant than the fact you were destroying your body and losing your mind. Perhaps that was the very cause—you being scared of starting a family with him. In any case, he’d try to get you back in shape and out of this feared thinking.
And you couldn’t believe his words, wondering if he’s playing with you. “R-really?” your voice was too hopeful to his liking, but he’d accept it for now. It was just a stress having accumulated and not released to a while, so once you get better…
“Yes. I promise you that.”
After a few more minutes of clouded doctor doing different measures on you, your eyes closed once again, needing rest when drowsy from the drug.
Doctor took him to another room, needing to discuss your state.
The first thing he said to him was intense, “I hope you’re aware she’s not in any shape to be getting pregnant now. It’s not just the fact her body would be incapable of carrying pregnancy safely, endangering both her and the child with her starving and malnutrition; but also… the risk of postpartum depression or even psychosis is high with her mental state. I’m sure you understand what both could bring, especially the latter…”
Ayato sighed, but he nodded. “Yes… it would only be counterproductive for her to be pregnant now, and would lead to tragedy. A mother being depressed is not going to keep the child taken care of either.” The healer was taken aback by Ayato’s prismatic and technical thinking, detached from what the pain it’d bring you too; yet he was not allowed to judge.
“Although… what does psychosis truly would imply?”
Doctor’s expression became solemn, knowing it’s a dark topic. “A lot of the time it keeps the mother disconnected from the reality and have warped grasp of it, however… there’s been a few cases where besides neglect, it led to her attacking her own child or herself, or even killing them… not out of malice or cruelty, but at fault of their mental state involuntary to them. They could assume they’re doing this as protection from the suffering a world could bring. Lack of support is likely to make their state worse too.”
Ayato’s breath hitched and he had to grab onto the wooden armchair of the couch. Multiple thoughts caused a disarray in his head: if your mental health didn’t suffer, would you still end up in this state if pregnant and it’d be his fault for not predicting it? Would you really be so unwell to have killed your own child? Would you really feel detached from motherhood? Would motherhood really be that dreadful for you?
Was he at fault? Perhaps he’s dropped the pregnancy bomb on you too early… Maybe he should have mentioned it once you’re even more attached and willing. What a stupid mistake from his side.
His heart ached for you; but the selfish need to have a family with you still remained in the back of his head. It was the only thing missing in his life, and he has assumed you’d want it too; considering what you have lost.
“I understand. Please make sure she gets in her best shape, any means necessary. I believe in you, Doctor.”
“I will try my best, Lord Kamisato. The only thing we can do from now is try to put her on medication to relieve her stress, and make sure she eats enough. Albeit, she can’t eat too much at first, so her body doesn’t get in shock…
…But you really need to make sure she eats. One of the effects of starvation can be infertility,” he warned.
Ayato cursed inside his mind. This wasn’t how everything was meant to happen. He expected some struggle from you, but not you actually breaking. Breaking you into more acceptant version, one loving him and your children would be acceptable; but leaving you shattered like a teacup was unacceptable. He still cared about you, in his own way—while he was forcing you to do things you didn’t find pleasant, he still believed them to be beneficial for you, and taken into an account for you to prosper.
Yes, he’s been wanting you obedient, but it’s because he knew what’s best for you and how to keep this family safe upon constant risks. Yes, he was keeping you here, but there were assassins outside, and only going out with him, with one of his ninjas watching you from the distance could keep you not targeted. Yes, he’s been initiating to be intimate with him, but he wasn’t a stranger and wanted you to see it as a normal part of marriage.
Yes, he was trying to make you both parents, but it’s because you both had none.
•
You were being destroyed from the inside. A creature inside your stomach, IT was tearing apart at your womb and eating any part of it. IT was gnawing at your skin, stretching and tearing it until it breaks. Blood was everywhere but IT only drank from it and demanded more.
Your body was dry and skinny, deprived from any nutrition on life as IT has stolen it from you.
IT was Ayato’s helper, ready to steal more from you than he did. Ayato could have done it only externally, so IT grabbed everything from the inside.
That’s why you were a dead, dead body, only managing to walk and feed IT. You weren’t you, you were a vial for IT.
And once IT is born and has done starving and depriving you, another IT will take its place to have just as much fun; if not more. Oh, how IT would laugh if another IT joins it, both at the same time. Your body would beg to regenerate its cells at the maximum speed, recognizing the need to feed IT that was above you, to everyone around you.
IT will carry the stench of your decaying body, the blood and placenta all over it, but only you will smell it, until it rots on your body. Your portal will be ripped open and never heal.
You are just a mean to an end to IT. IT will be worshipped and the future, while you would be only praised for carrying and delivering IT.
You weren’t you, you were IT’s mother. IT swallowed you, despite IT being inside of you. The usurper ruled your womb, and you were born to be taken apart by it.
IT was a part of you, but IT deserved more than you ever had.
•
The servant brushing your hair become frightened and jumped away from you when you woke up with a bloody scream, as if you were being skinned alive.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do, not even once in her life seeing someone behave this way. “My lady, you’re okay—”
“Get it out of me, get it out of me!” you screamed frantically and got on your fours, trying to bend your body in a way where it doesn’t feel as if your stomach was being ripped apart from the inside.
The servant was freed of her duty when Thoma stormed into the room, anyone else and him having heard the scream throughout this chamber. Screams most concerning when you were behaving as if in agony.
You were crying, and so was the servant, both startled and worried for you, and it had to be the housekeeper to hold onto your hands so you don’t try to beat at your stomach. Ignoring your trashing, he pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard to not let you get away and to keep you safe. “Go and find Lord Ayato,” he passed to the servant, it being the only thing she could manage at the moment. “Do it!” he barked seeing her hesitation, until she finally caught to his words and ran from the room to find your husband.
“My lady, please, tell me what are you so scared of?” he asked, feeling shaken up himself. You’ve been frenzy for weeks, stuck staring into the space as if absent, you were not eating, you were visiting your wardrobe for some reason, you looked troubled and anxious, but it was last days that truly were difficult for you.
“I can’t… take it out of me…” you gasped out, crying violently into his chest.
His grip on you tightened, moved by the vulnerability in your voice. “Take out what?” his tone was worried, wondering if you even know what you’re saying.
“That cursed creature of child!” you begged, and your body shook.
His body tensed, shocked by your words. From his knowledge, you weren’t pregnant. You couldn’t have been pregnant if it was clear to him that you and Ayato hadn’t bedded for weeks, having no sheets to clean due to certain liquids.
“My lady… you don’t have any child in you. You’re not pregnant. It was just a nightmare,” he spoke more softly, wanting to reassure you with a truth you desperately needed.
He knew it worked when you halted in your crying for a moment, trying to understand if he was honest or lying for his lord’s benefit. “Y-you promise, Thoma?”
“I promise. You still have your period, don’t you?”
You realized he’s right. You still had your period even if you were nearing the point where it’d disappear from malnutrition. When you nodded, he could have felt your muscles relax somewhat; still frightened and not fully back in reality, clinging onto his words.
He held you for a bit more, until the door has opened.
Ayato looked at both of you, standing in the entrance and towering over you both with a watchful gaze, his eye twitching a little at the closeness of his wife in another man’s arms. He spoke, “I can take it from here, Thoma. Thank you.”
“Yes, of course, my lord…” He slowly released your body, and stood up, trying to not give into your whimper of beg when you weren’t so eager to be alone with blue hair red man.
He waited for Thoma to leave, and when he did, he kneeled down in front of you. His hand landed over your cheekbone, gently wiping through tears for you, as if making sure to not startle you. When you lowered your gaze to look at the floor, he let you do this, for once in months not forcing your chin up to be looking at him.
He didn’t ask you anything yet, having a hunch you’d be too emotional to not get double emotional under his words.
Seeing you get a bit exhausted, he scrambled you into his arms, and gently laid you both down on the futon; even ignoring the stench and wetness of your sweat on it. He can wash himself or the futon, but you did require to be watched over.
As you lied on your side, staring blankly at his chest, for a moment forgetting he’s here, you felt the safest inside your mind; or rather inside the detachment of it. The emptier your head was, the less you had to experience your dreadful reality and acknowledge the fact that all of that had happened indeed had happened. That Ayato is real, and that he has taken away from you and planned to do even more, and your future children would take from you — they’d join him in thievery.
It was his question that snapped you out of the comfort zone, and you looked up at his concerned expression. Was this really him? You didn’t like him being conferenced. Him being rough was painful and scary, nonetheless that’s what you were used to, and that’s what let you read his intentions. New emotions raised new concerns and questions for you to solve to think of ways of protecting yourself.
“Is it possible for you to tell me what did you dream about?” You shuddered at the inquisitive wording.
“I…” your voice trembles and you held onto your stomach. “I thought I was with a child… but it was a monster, destroying me from the inside…”
“… You saw a baby as a monster?” he tried to confirm, his voice uncertain. In his experience, he was usually surrounded by women cherishing their children. His own mother loved him and Ayaka dearly; even if oftentimes too employed in for them, as result having to leave them with a nanny. The idea of a woman dreading pregnancy is something he did understand, considering the possible pain, complications and consequences behind it, but seeing children as something evil…
“It’s a parasite. I don’t want a baby inside of me.” You thought Ayato has stolen everything from you that night, but it was actually going to be you having your children — he’d conquer your body, have it used for something else, and then your children would join in both being heavy on your body; then occupying your existence with having to take care of them that you never wanted. Theorizing, if you and Ayato had entered marriage normally, willingly, you’d be happy to have children. In reality, how can you have them and be happy when it’s with a man like him, especially too sorrowed and minced to take care of yourself and let alone them?
Seeing him in them would make you want to cover their faces with masks to wear everyday.
Over above, you yearned to keep something to yourself, if you couldn’t have the most.
These children didn’t deserve to be born either. Ayato was cruel to think of letting them live. There was a possibility he’d love them and make them laugh — a sentence was in making them have a mother who’d have to force herself to take care of them, to never be affectionate with them and treat them like they did something to her; inputting guilt in them for having been enforcing her struggle — that was the true selfish act here. There’s no way they wouldn’t catch up with the dynamic between you two, realizing something is wrong. Children were more observant that people gave them credit for.
You were more merciful towards them than Ayato. You were more self aware than him despite you being the one losing your mind here.
“A parasite—a baby is not a parasite, my dear—” his words were quickly cut off when you slapped his face. You both became ice sculptures, frozen and not moving — him from the shock, and you from the realization of what you have done. The fear overtook you, hitting twice hard after a break from discipline for weeks, thinking he’s going to slap you in return or punish you.
You closed your eyes and flinched when his hand was coming near your face, expecting the force even more painful than your own. What you felt instead was Ayato pinching your cheek, not even hurting it.
You opened one eye, too scared to see his angry face fully. The second popped open when seeing his teasing gaze instead, wondering if you truly have lost your mind. The last time you’ve really seen this sort of expression was months before your wedding, when he was still making you smile; when you were still living in pleasant oblivion of who he truly was. He was expected to be angry at your disobedience, not treating it lightly and looking soft as if you’ve committed a silly, honest mistake.
“That wasn’t very pleasant, darling.” He pinched your cheek again, chuckling like an angel. “Now we’re even.”
This was wrong. This felt wrong. He had no right to be affectionate and playful as if he was love and on honeymoon, all happy.
“That’s it?” you mumbled out, the additional dread added, panicking at your lack of knowledge.
He feigned confusion, “Well, would you want me to punish you?” His words caused the well known desire to beg to stop, and you quickly shook your head. “Then let’s say that’s it. Now, go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As he watched you fall asleep, having no choice when you were exhausted and almost feverish from your distress, he had a thought in mind.
The bird with an extraordinarily long tongue, one that used to speak a lot and share any anecdotes, had its tongue cut off and couldn’t chirp anymore — it was only not thrown away, pitied and not used enough.
•
When you have woken up, you were surprised to see Ayato still lie next to you. Usually, he wouuld have been off to work already. So unusual you had to steal a glance at the watch on wrist he always wears, and grow confused at it being 8am.
You couldn't believe he was late for once. You shook his shoulder, ready to kick out your husband to have some space under the excuse of him having to work. “Ayato, get up! You slept in,” you urged.
Eventually, he heard you and had his eyelids lift just in half. Looking at you, he spoke in a drowsy tone, “No, not today. I am taking a break. Go back to sleep.”
He pulled you closer, while you were still confused by his words. Why was he suddenly taking a break? Something was wrong, especially combined with the way he has acted last night. You've never liked him hiding his intensions from you, as they usually landed up being awful when finally manifested.
However, you could have only settled down in his unmoving arms; still awake as you were too anxious. With his break, it was no surprise he was taking advantage to sleep for all times he couldn't have.
Using you as a pillow too, with his head on your shoulder. You had time to observe his peaceful expression, one that makes it unimaginable of what this man was capable of. It wasn't just you who was his victim — it was corrupted politicians despite him being corrupted himself, anyone threathening his family or stability, or even innocent people he liked to provoke just to see theirs reaction. Innocently pulling the strings for people doing his dirty work was a bonus.
Him being handsome gave him a whole of privelege to further make you seem the villain — of course people automatically assume that good looking people can't do bad, while ugly have to be the offender. If you were to go to the outside world, who would have really believed you? Should they have been given a chance to witness your dynamic first hand, some of them would still try to judge him to be innocent to look for some reason of his behavior in you, blaming you for causing him to have taken this course of action with you.
If you could, you'd tell other women to never marry a man much richer than them — there will be always a power imbalance and their husband not acting on it was only men’s mercy, not a right given to these women.
The wait has turned into an hour when he finally set you free to sit up, stretching his body. The slightly grumpy expression was almost cute to you, and you would have teased him about it if you didn't want to not give him attenttion. He turnerd to look at you, observing you intensely for a moment, as if assessing your state. You were still a mess, naturally, so there was a lot of work ahead of you.
"Good morning, my dear wife."
“Morning…” you muttered. You didn't feel good about the idea of him having a break, even if normally appearing selfish taken out of the context — you wanted as little time with him as possible. He smiled at you, not too widely, and mentioned, “I know the situation is very stressful for you, and that is has taken a toll on your body... that's why me and our doctor has decided that you should start taking a medication. Nothing too bad, I swear, before you start having some unsavory thoughts.” He grabbed your hand to hold it while delievering the news.
And he was right bout the thoughts — your fate was to alwasy be suspicious of any of his actions. Won't the medicine make you feel weak and foggy, so he can take advantage of you further? The subservience potential creeped up in your stomach, forcing cold sweat over you. “Is it neccesary? Is there no other way—?”
"If you will cooperate, we can go anywhere you like."
Your mouth opened and hang in this position, not believing at the sudden offer... or rather coercion. Which didn't mean you weren't desperate to go somewhere other than this cursed estate and old, boring places not too far away from the estate explored enough as another tool to make you feel crazy . He then enticed you further. “We can bring Ayaka too. She's been worried about you and I'm sure she would love to come with her sister-in-law.”
The idea of Ayaka being there with you was indeed comforting. Another person to turn to when talking, not being suffocated by his presence alone. Ayaka was kind, and while usually on her brother's side, she wasn't aware of the reality of your relationship. Despite living here together, Ayato was still a mastermind who managed to turn the situation to look in different vibrating to her — “Sadly, she's still mourning her parents and cannot help but be stressed by the situation” type of gaslighting. Not to mention that the estate was so big you were quite separated from her, with her not being able to enter this part as it was your chambers — private for two lovers.
“All I want from you is to take that medicine and eat some light breakfast. You can’t swallow it on empty stomach, let alone ruin your health further with neglect. You're getting so skinny rapidly, that I actually…" his voice cracked. Then tears appeared. Less than ten, but that was a lot coming from Ayato.
You froze in your spot, having an urge to turn your head away and leave the room. He deserved all the pain in the world, but seeing him weep, it was most shocking. You weren't used to seeing him spill much empathy on you, let alone cry... was he really that worried for you? Did he actually care? Was he finally regretting what he has done to you, or was it just guilt?
"Um... please, don't cry, Ayato..." you moaned out in distress. You didn't want to take care of responsibility for his own misery when you had enough burden of your own, and when it just wouldn't be fair to now also be his therapist.
Ayato wiped his tears, looking at you with something akin to embarassment. "Ah, how shameful of me... I just don't want to..." his voice cracked again, "…see you go,” he choked out.
You were really uncomfortable, almost feeling bad for him as you weren’t as cruel as him, so you have finally given in, just wanting him to stop tormenting you like this. "Okay, I will do what you asked me of. Just… calm down."
He perked up at your words. "Really?" when you nodded, he smiled. "That's a relief. Thank you." With both hands on the sides of your head, he pulled it in to kiss your forehead.
As you were about to leave, the aversion to eating has returned at prospect of seeing your stomach expand and believe there's a child within you. Ayato noticed, deciding to just now reveal his assertions. "Listen to me carefully, my dear... I think I've realized the reasoning your visits to the wardrobe, and if I'm right what’s the cause, I promise you that you're not pregnant."
"O-oh, yeah, that makes sense..." you tried to agree, for now, pushing through phobia to earn your reward.
He slowly stood up, helping you too. Holding your hand, he led you out of the room, ready to recite to his cooks to what create for your sensitive body.
•
You were positively surprised to see Ayaka join you at breakfast, even if she appeared concerned enough to gnaw at your chest and hurt it with guilt. "Oh, dear, I was so worried about tou!" she voiced out like a worried mother, and took you away from Ayato, helping you sit down next to her. You were so skinny compared to your previous weight, you looked so worn out like a rag being squeezed out of its water, your hair has surely thinned out too, and your nails always carefully painted were now chipped out along with your chapped lips. Not to mention you seemed somewhat incoherrent, your reactions being slowed down.
However, she tried to not give a feeling of judgy, not wanting you to feel insecure.
“I know you had trouble eating… so how about we start with something light? A bit of tamago and vegetables?” Ayaka asked.
You were still unsure about eating, having it imprinted in you to your bone marrow, yet with you were feeling so weak lately, combined with the truth you were told you are not pregnant and you were weak against Ayaka, you nodded.
Ayaka smiled widely in relief and praise, and placed some plates in front of you. “I think matcha is bound to make you nauseous, so try peach tea… do you want honey in it?” she poured you cup and you thanked her.
The older brother watched over you two with no comment, letting Ayaka do her magic.
•
After breakfast, Ayaka took you away from Ayato and to her own chambers, wanting to put some sparkle back in you.
As she was combing your hair, you had to admit it was the most pleasant feeling in a while.
You found comfort in Ayaka because she didn’t take from you. While she could be almost as cunning as her sibling, she was usually more selfless and any “selfish” things she wanted was just spending time with you when others couldn’t. Thoma, the second closest, might have not been stealing from you too — however, he was Ayato’s apprentice, more loyal even than a dog.
“Say…” she started, her soft hand gently gathering your hair back. “How do you feel about… motherhood?”
Ayaka immediately regretted poking at that part of you, seeing you quickly turn from content to panicked as if you saw someone being killed. However, maybe she didn’t expect this sort of reaction, yet had her suspicions for a while.
“No, no, I’m so sorry—” she said, feeling panicked herself, before she hugged you from behind, holding you to her chest. “Forgive me. You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell my brother anything. I promise on my late parents.”
She hold you for a few minutes like this, waiting for you to calm down. Her heart twisted when you gave a confession you desperately wanted someone to not just hear, but acknowledge and see as right and not overdramatic. “Ayaka, I don’t want to be a mother,” your voice cracked and you started crying.
Now she understood the extent of your unwillingness. When her brother has mentioned the idea of you soon trying for a child, she assumed your reaction to be stress at first. When your state has been getting worse and worse and Ayato kept telling her it’s because you were reminded of your family this way, her gut instinct whispered to her that it wasn’t entire truth — she wasn’t a clueless, naive girl either. And now, you have confirmed her suspicions. You were actually terrified of having children.
She just didn’t know if you’ve never wanted them, or if it’s with Ayato. “Does my brother not know that?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“He does. He thinks it’s a matter of changing my mind! That once we’re there, I’ll want it! But I know I won’t! And it’s not an idiotic gamble!” you said hysterically, unable to control your anger once I someone allowed you to let it out. “It’s only what if you’ll enjoy it, when there’s also what if you don’t!”
“I… I’m sure brother is just this eager, but surely he must understand now…” she tried to explain his behavior, still refusing to see it as truth. Yes, her brother did sometimes scare her, only to be soothed with care for you both a second later. But the extent of your depression lately, the rumors — you wouldn’t behave this way for no reason. It wasn’t a tantrum, it wasn’t stress, you were actually killing yourself with some dark mist growing from inside of you and swallowing you more and more everyday.
She had more material to be assured when seeing you start to tremble. “No, don’t cry, I will talk to him. You don’t have to have children if you don’t want them… I-I mean, I’ve always wanted them myself, so it’s not as if the future of this clan is not possible…”
Her words sparked some hope within you, but they weren’t enough. Aren’t you using her this way, because what if she’s lying to take a burden onto herself? Will Ayato accept an heir not coming directly from him? Will he accept the idea of not having a family on his own, one he’s desperately wanted?
“You don’t have to—” you protested. “No, it must be done,” you were taken aback by her serious and sort of angry tone. The idea that someone was on your side felt unreal, and you were worried for her.
However, you knew that once Ayaka sets her mind on something, she’s an unstoppable force.
You lowered your eyes onto the floor, as she reassumed her actions, to think the conversation didn’t happen. “Let’s not focus on it now. I just want to pamper you a bit, before we head out.”
Soon, your hair was styled up nicely to fit your features, a slight makeup was applied to hide your misery and remind you you’re still a human, for these gentle hands to help you dress up appropriately to today’s chilly but sunny weather.
When you two met Ayato outside, he froze for a moment, before retaking his calm expression— a smile adorned his face. He didn’t remember the last time you looked this lovely and not beaten up.
“You look beautiful, my love.” He approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before he draped his hand over your waist to led you to the carriage.
When Ayaka observed you two, despite Ayato’s affectionate gestures she’d typically see as his love and care for you, she now paid attention to your reactions as a priority— you looked rather tense, with your eyes widening and flinching in almost fear.
Were you being paranoid or has Ayato been hurting you?
•
You slept throughout your ride, despite wanting to desperately watch the view outside. Your head was against his shoulder, with Ayato occasionally glancing down at your face despite blue eyes drilling holes in him.
He had to acknowledge Ayaka’s weird language. “Something’s wrong, sister?”
Ayaka blushed at being caught with a nervous squirm, only to shake her head. “No, brother, I’m just worried for my sister in law…”
Ayato scrutinized her expression, thankfully not deciding to question her further. “I see.”
•
You were shaken awake upon arrival, hearing the shuffling of Ayaka setting up blankets and porcelain outside. You’ve request some place outside as the promised by him trip, where others wouldn’t reach, too embarrassed at the prospect at someone seeing your current state. There were already many rumors in Inazuma, hearing about Yashiro commissioner’s wife being in terrible shape, supposedly having come down with some mysterious sickness. You didn’t need to be scrutinized more than Ayato already has dissected you.
“Dogs are instinctually loyal. But no matter how well-behaved a dog might be, it gets unhappy if it's cooped up in the same place for too long.” — you didn't wish to hear that again either.
When Ayato helped you step out, you were met with a sight of green fields and flowers on top of the hill. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you looked more alive than ever, that both siblings were surprised.
You’ve been surrounded by the nature in the estate, with wonderful gardens and flowers, but… they were only a reminder, mundane upon seeing it for years, and made to look more elegantly artificial than natural.
This was the true, raw nature, untouched by anything. You wished you were untouched by anything else too, and live in a place where only you exist. It was chilly outside, but it only added to the pleasantry of feeling the nature; and the sun still looked as beautiful. And if you were to get bored of the place, the wind would carry you somewhere else and you, a flower, would be creating more sprouts as the bee lands on you. Bee wouldn’t take but give and help you in sailing away like a sailer choosing to be lonely and not feeling lonely.
When Ayaka gave you food to eat, for once you ate and actually enjoyed it. When she asked you to help pick up flowers, you were at first hesitant, not wanting to disrupt that free nature, but gave in when she reassured they’ll bloom again the next spring, and when her trained hands shaped a crown, you let her put it on you.
You actually forgot Ayato was there, and when you remembered, you felt weird having realized he hasn’t interrupted you two yet.
Only when you were feeling tired again, he placed your head on his lap, stroking it to help you fall asleep. You didn’t want to accept his affection. You really didn’t. But you were tired, not even physically, so starved of humanity you just let him.
“I’ll let you know this is where our parents used to bring us. Me and Ayaka haven’t come here for many years after, until now,” he murmured gently, drowsiness making you feel loved by his tone.
Your brows furrowed, wondering why he was being vulnerable with you. “What has changed?”
“Finally it’s not so empty here… not if you’re here.”
•
Next days have been… surprisingly easy on you. Ayato has been acting gentle and affectionate with you, as if truly willing to help you get better; with pills helping you keep your nerves in check.
Nonetheless, back of your mind has never left you alone — is he helping you to get better, or to get better so he can finally try for your first child? Ayaka still didn’t inform you if she has confronted him, but for now…
You tried to catch all the peace you could. Finally at the state where your brain forced you to ignore any repercussions and let yourself to be taken care of, it was only natural. You had no choice, if you didn’t want to shatter against the floor entirely.
Ayato has been occupied, yet less as he let Ayaka take on more duties so he can spend time with you, pampering you. You were wary of his presence, a mechanism forced into you — in the past not ever being able to rest unless you were drunk or coming down from an orgasm — but you chose to be delusional willingly.
“A-are you sure this is safe?” you asked, seeing a set of tools meant for cleaning ears. A tradition in Inazuma, one you never had a chance to participate in, being busy with less relaxing activities put on you by your parents.
“Yes, trust me. I wouldn’t hurt your precious ears. I have an experience in doing this to Ayaka.”
“If you say so…” you said hesitantly, as placed your head on his lap. Your feet twitched when he started with a fluffy stick, feeling bit squirmy.
“Someone’s ticklish, hm?” he teased and you felt something warm within his chest. That tone voice, so similar to your time during engagement…
“No… everyone’s ears are sensitive…” you tried to bite back upon your embarrassment.
“Maybe, but yours especially,” he teased again, winning this small banter. It was easy to forget what he’s done to you, your mind thinking that perhaps you have overestimated his behavior… maybe he’s never been this bad and just wanted the best for you?
You no longer knew what was true. You couldn’t, when he constantly kept pushing you into different directions.
As he cleaned your ears, you ended up falling asleep like a baby. In your last moments, you felt his hand stroke your face and put a kiss to your hand he’s lifted up.
•
The place of your awaking was in the familiar bedroom. The spouse wasn’t here, so you assumed he must have returned to his duties. Some small part felt disappointment… not necessarily from missing him, if not the affectionate gestures.
You’ve decided to seek out Ayaka, wondering if she’d be willing to spend time with you; now unable to feel safe alone.
When slipping inside her chambers, you’ve been hit with flashbacks so many you almost fainted on the spot.
Ayaka and Ayato were arguing. The conversation that was meant to happen finally was in motion. What finally has truly broken you, with no point of return or hope you’ve been coming back to despite thinking it’s gone every previous time, was his words. You stood frozen, your every other sense than hearing being shut down to hear the final blow that’d kill you.
“She’s just not doing well at the moment. Once she is okay again, she’ll be able to have these children. This is what she needs to finally settle down!”
You felt a hand grab at your throat, despite not anyone touching you. Your hand immediately went down to the stomach, wondering if stabbing yourself would prevent the fatum placed on you; contradicting its definition.
Ayato has been fooling you the entire time. He wasn’t affectionate because he’s wanted you to get better. He’s been affectionate because he wanted to harvest you to be in shape to have children, to fulfil his selfish goals; or at least even if might have cared, this was his main intention. Those tears must have been crocodile, meant to make you feel bad for him. Your hopes were destroyed like the first time of you signing the contract.
He didn’t stop taking from you. He’s been waiting for you to regrow so there’s more to grab again. Then your body as it suffers from your pregnancy. Then your children would take too, and laugh at you while praising his work.
You truly had nothing left. You’d age with forced to watch them flourish, and them to have everything you couldn’t have.
Your entire existence has been made to be cursed, for you to be used, from the moment you were born. A child meant to never be loved but expected to work for her family with no minding to her own dreams, a child losing her parents, a child having to survive on her own while being used by her own family who refused to help, a woman meant to be given into the hands of some other disgusting man, a woman ruined by Ayato. Especially him — being given hope only for it to be crushed entirely the moment she starts to enjoy life. How had you even survived from the beginning? Did gods hate you? Did Shogun hate you? Was Celestia laughing at you from above?
You should have done this a long time ago — you thought of your intention, when withdrawing from the chamber to find a spot. You were stuck in some form of catatonic tension as you walked. Your mind didn’t think, but you knew where to go. Suddenly, everything looked black and white but you didn’t even see.
The thoughts of mutilation were forgotten — even childless, you’d still have to live with him. Maybe he’d force you to adopt. If you were to get pregnant somehow, you doubted you’d have any chance to get rid of the child yourself.
You wondered if your mother was as unwilling to have children and forced to have you, and that’s why she’s never loved you.
You were lucky find the laundry room unattended. You liked that — the last moment being filled with being alone, someone not wanting something from you for once; no matter if you felt awfully lonely too. Your life has started lonely, even being surrounded by people, and it will be lonely as it ends; creating a full cycle, perhaps meant to strike you once again in next life.
You thought about what everyone else would think. Would they regret not helping you? Would they feel guilty, not because they cared, but because it weighed on their conscience? Would Ayato be sad only because the object of his torment was gone?
You felt bad only for Ayaka, really.
But in the end, it didn’t matter if you’re going to be dead. In fact, you’d be pretty pissed to end up in some afterlife. It could be paradise of sort, but you’d resent to exist.
The only thing you feared, as you were throwing laundry rope over the beam in the room was you being stuck in Inazuma, walking around as a ghost. Ghosts and spirits did exist, the same way gods existed. Leave this world with problems unsolved and you might never ascend until you’re soothed and problems were resolved; possibly left to suffer and scare people with your moans for centuries. So at least, you removed your shoes.
When putting the seat servants used to wash and hurt their hands, you wondered how much Celestia hated people who commit suicide — were they mad their plans were ruined, the same way he would be mad?
You didn’t even notice when you were standing up on it and placing the noose around you. When jumping you down, you expected to hear a crack of the spine before you’d see black and not move.
After few seconds, you realized you were not out. Instead, you were suffocating. As a natural reaction, you started to trash, the instincts trying to stop the asphyxiation. Your body ended up swaying as a result, only tightening the noose you desperately tried to remove. It was different dying instantly from dying for many minutes of the worst torture.
Your jaw hurt and your eyes bulged out, along with your tongue. Your lungs burned, with you were to be dizzy and wanted to vomit. The rope dug into your neck most painfully.
You wanted to scream for help but your vocal cords were to shut off.
Within five minutes, you passed out, your last thought being of not waking up again.
•
Two servants were passing through the corridor, carrying heavy baskets of laundry while they gossiped.
“Seriously, I wonder what’s going on with our lady… Lord Ayato seems like a really good man, and he’s mentioned she’s been sick, but what exactly? To me, she seemed more troubled than sick…”
“I know, right? Do you think they’re having some conflict of sorts?”
“But what could they be conflicting about? Is it because he’s too busy?”
“I don’t know… but I wouldn’t mind marrying a man like him, even if bu—” Her innocent fantasy was cut off when both of them heard a loud noise from the room they were getting close to. It sounded like a heavy object falling, thumping against the floor and echoing with a dull sound.
They both stopped and looked at each other in worry. “Hey, do you think someone collapsed?”
“I mean… this room tends to be hot and humid, so it wouldn’t be a surprise…”
When they entered the room, their screams of terror shook the entire estate.
•
Ayato’s and Ayaka heated conversation were interrupted by Thoma barging in without knocking.
“Thoma, do you have no respect coming-” Ayato scolded in annoyance, but his friend cut him off frantically.
“My lord, your wife!” he said with the biggest fear his lord have seen before. Ayato immediately knew some tragic have happened, and suspected what it could have been considering your latest state. Were you dead? Ayaka let out a startled sob, more from shock for the realization would whip her fully.
“Where?” He didn’t even ask what transpired. He had to reach you immediately.
“The laundry room, in the third wing!”
It was all three of them that ran here, but Ayato ran the fastest. It could have been either you being so sick or you attempting… the latter was likely, if you ended up in a random location.
He barely stopped himself from vomiting when noticing you on the floor. You, purple, not moving, with your own vomit on the side, and… servants trying to resurrect you, meaning you weren’t breathing either.
He wasn’t thinking, he was now only acting — he shoved the servant away, not caring about them landing, and took over the act. He was ready to crack your rib if he had to, whatever that’d not stop him from saving you.
“Go get a doctor!” he screamed at everyone standing around, most frightened from all of them as if he finally decided to be a human.
It was Thoma who had most courage to leave and seek out help, and other servants had to force Ayaka out of the room who was desperately trying to get to you.
His heart broke when it’s you who had no choice and be the broken thing, but he kept pushing onto your chest while blowing air into your mouth.
You couldn’t die. His mother has died. His father has died. And you were going to die, not even by some assassin’s hand, but your own; if not his?
He sobbed the hardest when he saw your chest finally move, you inhaling air.
You barely opened your eyes after, but it was you staying with him. You’re not going anywhere, you couldn’t!
Not comprehending the situation to the frustration of your brain, you wondered why was it raining after your death. But when hearing the familiar voice, begging you to be okay, you realized it was the same animal pound of hell. But… the devil was crying, for once being honest and not deceiving. Shame it was so late. And it wasn’t better late than never situation.
You wanted to tell him to go away, but your throat couldn’t speak. The last thing you’d heard, barely, was a sound of someone else bursting to the room.
•
In your unconscious state, you saw an unfamiliar to you woman. She looked like you, but wasn’t you, and she couldn’t if she actually laughed, and her hair was healthy, and she served customers ramen with a smile on her face, eagerly listening to their stories.
And when her work was done, she walked on her way home, through a road decorated with lavender melon trees, a sun soon about to set and create an orange hue as warm as the day was.
And when she entered her house, she had her cat greet her, before they both would sit down to read together and when they woke up, her face was bright as the sun when noticing the hydrangeas had finally bloomed.
•
The dream was over when you woke up, a distant memory of what you’d daydream everyday as a teenager. The reality was much different, too scary to not be spread between multiple people to make it more bearable.
Your chest hurt. Something suffocated your hand and hurt it too.
“Darling? Can you hear me?” Ayato asked desperately, with some happiness in his voice. When you nodded, he asked another question, “Can you speak? It’s okay if you can’t, you’ll get there.”
“I… hate you,” is the first thing you could have said when waking up. You’ve said it many times in the past, always brushed off as a defiance or emotionality. But you’ve meant it every time, and this time especially.
Ayato’s hand gripped yours more tightly, surprisingly devoid of scolding. “I know,” he admitted quietly.
The words were unimaginable to hear, however, too delayed after months you didn’t feel relief at him agreeing with you. You were never heard and you weren’t heard now either, it was just something he had no choice but to admit or he’d look like an ignorant fool.
He really had to try hard not to cry again. Tormented when finding himself confused by his own emotions, deciding which ones were frustration at the miscalculation and being denied, which ones were guilt and which one was love and empathy for you being provoked.
As the doctor assessed your state, trying to talk softly realizing you were now the most vulnerable and at risk of repeating the gesture if left alone, Ayato’s hand didn’t leave yours the entire time.
“She thankfully can still speak, and her spine wasn’t damaged. The rib will heal, but… you have to be really patient with her, Lord Kamisato. She will recover physically, but getting to be stabile is a very difficult and long journey.”
There was one more thing he hasn’t mentioned to you, but has mentioned to your guardian before you woke up — one you shouldn’t be hearing at the moment.
When the doctor left, you saw your husband’s face turn into anger. “How could you have tried this? How could you be so selfish and try to leave me? Try to leave Ayaka? Even Thoma? Do you have no respect for your own life or your own family?!”
The words hit you and you couldn’t process them with how severely unfair, unreasonable and cruel they were. You’ve just tried to end your life, after he has literally destroyed you and put you through worst things imaginable. He was the selfish one to take without being asked, to gain at your expense, and pretend a gilded cage makes it a fair trade — did you miss some detail that’d make him to be the one right here)
Your eyes were bulging out again, this time from shock. If you thought you felt agony, you would say now it would kill you itself. You didn’t speak. You let the words sink for a while, before you rebutted, “You ruined me, Ayato. How can I be selfish for wanting to free myself of this?” You didn’t even know how you could speak at this point, exhausting the last of breaths before it’d be just your body.
“I didn’t ruin you. I built you up. You had nothing, I saved your family from the ruin, I gave you a safe home and wanted to give you a family too!” he raised his voice at you, making you flinch.
“Then why did you have to treat me this way?! Why treat me this way? Why did you have to torment me instead of letting me live with you?!”
When he saw your eyes well up with tears, he knew he was fucking up saying those things to you when you were probably ready to hurt yourself again. The righteous man he was, he had to shake some sense into you. “That’s how order is built. If you weren’t led by me, you wouldn’t have survived a day in this family. You might have survived yours, but barely, and it’d never compare to MY family’s suffering.”
You thought you couldn’t breathe again. You were shaking, and you were sobbing so loudly you didn’t hear his words anymore. The pain in your chest intensified and you would pass out if provoked more. Your mind was being slaughtered by his words. He really thought order is more important than your wellbeing, and he disregarded any difficulties you went through, thinking it’s unimportant as long as his were worse. How can a human creature meant to be equipped with empathy to actually achieve the full build, could compare two tragic lives? “You…” you gasped out, high on panic. “Can’t push me off the cliff… and expect me to be grateful for you saving me…”
The words clearly struck something in him, as if having realization, before he was throwing frustration at you once more. “Things aren’t black and white—”
Too bad, as you started to scream with a cry for him to stop tearing you apart, and banging your head against the floor. It hurt, of course it did, but you preferred this pain than the one from the carved out hole Ayato has left in your soul.
And he immediately regretted his words, ones of wanting to blame you so he doesn’t have to blame himself, and could feed his selfish side not being satisfied. He quickly landed on top of you, holding your bleeding head under his hand so you can’t hurt yourself more; end up with concussion or even crack in your own skull — you probably would have reached there, at this point. He was scared, both for you and of you. His precious wife really had nothing in her to keep her going, and he had nothing to make her happy.
“Stop, please, I’m begging you!” he was crying too, holding your trashing form in his arms. He wasn’t holding you but himself too. “I’m so sorry, you’re right, it was all my fault! Just don’t leave me, I beg of you…”
The doctor who was on duty in the room next to yours, ready to tackle your possible episode in case you have it, has heard all and entered the room. He ignored the fact how uncomfortable for his employer it’d be to be witnesses this way, prompted by the wonder if it’s both of you that he had to sedate.
“Let me go!” you screamed again. “I don’t want to do this anymore!” The man forcing you to stay still cried harder seeing you beg to be taken away, and it was difficult for him to hold you down for the doctor to administrate dose.
His panic was soothed down only somewhat once you were no longer crashing down; for all that, your ongoing tears told him you were no longer with him.
He let the doctor patch your forehead, and it was only one less problem, swallowed by waves of much bigger cruelties thrown at you and him.
Ayato, for once in his life, had no solution to deal with so far and always to be the biggest problem. He could have ruled entire political organization and clan simultaneously, but fixing one broken woman felt impossible.
He held you entire night like this, even when you were barely coherent; not stoping after the sedate has worn off. You were stuck inside your own mind which finally has given up, as it couldn’t accommodate more tragedy.
Ayato felt like the most evil man in the world, even if as dissatisfied about having his biggest dream ruined by you — regardless of him never having a right to fulfil it at your expense.
If he hadn’t placed his own rules on you, scared of you going away or doing something stupid, you wouldn’t have ended up this way. He thought the worst can happen if he’d have taken this route of freedom, but stripping you away of all of it you had was the true tragedy. The other route, he failed to take your happiness enough into account, believing you were someone who needed to be controlled to finally have some weight off shoulder; and that if you went through so much already, you were a fighter to take this much before you come down.
But who he would be kidding if he said his needs didn’t come first? He was a man cursed with duality—to be able to both love and take. And the taking part was too heavy on the scale to weight it proportionately.
In the end, he had to ignore his disappointment — he wouldn’t and couldn’t take on this route again. The words, both yours and doctor’s left a heavy impression on him.
“You pushed me off of the cliff and expected me to be grateful for you saving me.”
And the unsealed by you, whispered out of your vision — “I wont be any gentle with you when I tell you she’s not allowed to have any children, even if one day you believe she’s doing better. Push her again, and it will cause another tragedy. Her mental wellbeing is too prioritized to expect her to take care of children.”
He’ll never have a family on his own. No replecament for his dead parents, just you and his sister. Not even adoption was an option, when you wouldn’t be able to carry this burden on your shoulders.
He looked at your form stating at the ceiling. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just don’t give up on me. On us. On yourself. I need you. You can have all the freedom you want, just—” he buried his face into your neck, sobbing here — much more when you didn’t react, and much more when noticing the rope burns, and even much more when he saw your form hanging when closing his eyes. He didn’t want to close them ever again.
•
In the spread of the next days, he didn’t leave your side for more than the most important meetings; and had others watch you when gone. Anything else, Ayaka took over, even if she barely could work herself. It was clear he’s lost some of her trust, and that she was haunted by what you’ve done. The entire estate has been quiet too, with people acting as if they were mourning regardless you were alive — because you have died, in a way.
You were slowly waking up back to the reality, and he was still there, sadly. This time, any expression he’s shown you felt real and were real.
With your awakening, a certain thought followed you everywhere — if your state hasn’t ended up this bad, he’d still force you through his plans. You’d be miserable having children; but not enough for him to stop. You had to reach this point to hear an admission of his sins, and for him to realize he was so wrong.
“Thats it. You’re doing so well, my dear,” he praised as he fed you soup, with you sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his hand ahead of your face. You no longer had to fear your belly growing after the doctor told you you’ll never be able to have children, due to the damage your body had taken — no longer fertile, something you’d feel bad about for women who wanted children, and something you had to view differently for your specific case. You could only grow your fat and take back nutrition, but what then? What are you supposed to do for the rest of your life?
You ate the soup like a robot, not enjoying its taste, it helping you with your dehydrated tongue instead.
“Do you want to go the city soon? There’s a festival coming, and I know you must have missed attending these..” He frowned; seeing your head shake, having expected you to take on the rare chance. He sighed, but stayed patient. “I see. You must be still tired.”
“Do you want to lay down?” he asked when you ate more soup. When you nodded, he helped you to lower yourself to the futon, and placed your head on his lap. Ayaka has told him you like having your hair comb, once done by your favorite servant when you were a child, the only one you felt safe with, so he did the same for you. He wanted to cry again when seeing how thin and brittle your locks were, and he touched these with reverence. Hopefully, they will grow back soon.
Just, will you grow back again too? He knew there was some part of you he’ll never bring back, nonetheless, he’d take anything that resembled you.
“Ayato…” you finally asked, unable to let the question burden you further. “What about…”
“Yes?” he asked gently.
“The future of this clan? Do you resent me?”
His hand stopped between your strands. It’s been an answer he’s figured out already — only the delivery meant admitting his defeat and faults. “No, I don’t resent you. I don’t hide the fact I’m sad at the prospect of not having children ever, but I’d take that any day over losing you. And… Ayaka will be the one carrying the future of this clan and commission. She has expressed her feelings about motherhood to me, and she’ll looking for a suitable husband candidate soon. Though, I’m willing to give her some freedom in the choice, so she can pick someone she’s comfortable with.”
“I see…” You’ll seek out a shrine one day, wanting to pray she’ll never find a man like her brother.
“Then… what am I supposed to do myself?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, taking on the serious tone. You weren’t expecting to leave him, were you?
“I-I mean… am I supposed to… go back to our previous life? Just… waiting for you all day, not being able to leave, and meeting all these people?”
Ayato sighed. He was well aware you shouldn’t go through the same thing again; but he was also afraid at the idea of you flying away or hurting yourself by going outside. “We’ll figure out something for you to do. Perhaps you could help me with work? And… if you do well, I’ll try to make sure you have some fun after the hours too.”
“Can I leave on my own, then?” you asked hopefully, leaving him angry. He was afraid to crush your spirit again though, so made his words as delicate as possible, “No—I mean to say, not for now. Not because I want to restrict you, only because you need to get better first. After then… we shall return to this topic.”
With your understanding and unfortunate knowledge about him, you were quick to realize he might as well say no. “I want to know now!” you yelled. “I don’t want to wait for just to say no!”
Ayato’s hand tightened on the come, but he remembered he had to be patient with you. “I didnt say I’ll say no. If anything, it’s likely I’ll say yes.” Still no promise of saying yes, but you were baited upon your desperation.
“You promise?” you inquired quietly, scared of having the deal to be broken.
“Of course, my dear.”
•
When time has passed, Ayato’s words were proven to be right. However, to your despair, the sense of having lost something and someone that was you haven’t left, and you didn’t feel safe at your home you could never leave — the same old prison, now with gained privileges to paint the illusion of a choice and comfort.
Maybe Ayato didn’t touch when you didn’t want him to, excusing himself to the bathroom at random times of night; maybe he didn’t restrict you as much and kept you busy — all for there to be no way back to the happiness and stability from before the marriage.
He was still the same person who could never earn your forgiveness, no matter how punished and how opulently he’d repent… and you wouldn’t even call it repenting, but making it up to you — repentance would come after years of reparations. He was still the same person who has done all of this to you.
So when you find yourself at the top of the rooftop, you didn’t hesitate to jump down. You’ve failed the first time, but the second time was meant to be successful, no matter if more painful.
Your entire body felt broken, was broken, and you blissfully didn’t feel any pain yet, too high on adrenaline. As you bled, you heard screams, people in the garden circling around you, too scared to touch your form and intensify the damage they’d be blamed for. You having to hear your husband’s cries once more was the last before you lost hearing.
•
You woke up in an unfamiliar room, seeing an unfamiliar man with blue hair and purple eyes, and face so gentle you could cry — maybe the look of this precious man could soothe aches in your body too.
He looked at you in relief, softer enough make you feel good when waking up, and had to force a smile on his face. “You… I don’t know what else I can do…” he held your hands to his forehead, lowering his face so you wouldn’t see his despair. You’ve tried to leave him again; this time barely escaping death.
However, you could have only asked and shake him with the brand of your words, “Who are you?”
His head whipped up, looking at you in shock, blinking thrice. “Pardon? What do you mean, you silly thing? I’m your—” Then it hit him. The doctor has mentioned this possibility after your head has been injured.
He cleared his throat, as he wiped his tears, now speaking in a tone happy and affectionate. “I’m your husband. You’ve got me so worried, when you were attacked. But don’t worry, I’ve always taken a good care of you, and I will carry my duty for the rest of our lives. I’ll help you with remembering.”
Perhaps the gods have blessed him for his hard work for Inazuma’s sake, or perhaps they wanted to see one more act of the entertaining play — but Ayato would take advantage of this blessing anyway, having been given a second chance to start over.
It seemed you indeed would be reborn in another life, with a difference you didn’t have to physically die for it.
And if it was his choice to not mess up this time and take what he thought he would never have — this time, simultaneously keeping the balance of taking and giving, feeding you with an illusion of you always have been wanting these things — he can make you both happy, and grab what he’s been wanting.
The trade truly fair, actually — at least, based on his beliefs always having crashed against yours.
Beliefs could be implemented into a blank canvas anyway.
Apologies if there were any mistakes or misspellings <3 I’m not best with proofreading longer stories, not with my attention span 💔
But yeah, Ayato’s back to being selfish — his love has just changed into more “fair” of transactional. Nonetheless, I doubt reader will ever have a chance to be happy, even if blissfully unaware due to being amnesiac (not to mention that body can remember trauma physically).
I’ve incorporated some of his voicelines as they were fitting; and I think this cruel man also likes order — there was another voiceline in imaginarium theatrum, with him being judgy about mondstadt’s archon letting people have complete freedom ahshsb
I also won’t lie, I’m terrified of pregnancies as hell… so this was pretty cathartic for me to write, though not a self-insert for myself — more of a depiction of tokophobia and how reader could act in such circumstances. I’m really often like “wait, women do it willingly?”, but I also feel very proud of them for being so strong <3
ALSO let's talk about freshly 18 yr old reader x pre historic pensioner character cause like? i seen fics where "oh they knew reader since she was a baby and fell in love the exact moment she turned 18!" FUCK NO or "i wanna marry u when i grow up!" like ppl rlly out here hiding in plain sight pls dont tell me that dont gross anyone else out DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE PPL WHO WRITE STEPCEST ! its like horror i swear these are real life situations being neatly tied in a bow and romantiziced
LITERAL boombastic side eye cause it's giving weird pedo anime vibes where the author is later on exposed as a pedo or creep
no cause i literally side eye TF out of them, cause realistically grown people going after freshly 18 people usually had a attraction to them before they were 18. No way a kid you’ve known their whole life, once they turned 18 you suddenly like them? That’s not how attraction works.
hey, im sorry if this may come off as weird or anything at all. but i’ve seen how you publicly called out other accounts and it made me think you were the right person to come to with this.
may you please help spread the word of reporting this/these account(s) on here? (including the other accounts posts that they reblog from!) it’s A LOT of p*dophilic content which is EXTREMELY weird… (they say it doesn’t “effect anyone” but do they really believe that or are they just trying to convince themselves that ENJOYING sexual content about CHILDREN of all people is okay…?) it gives me chills that i never knew these kinds of people were lingering here on this app and making friends that enjoy it too until now. and usually i just block, but??? they need a background check ran on them asap; and/or just meet prison inmates that don’t play around with that.
[tumblr]/ honeyed-lord, sh0tacobloop, earlciel-p, cielssocute, magical--foot, onishita-appreciation-blog, bodycuts, deaddove-rb, ghostysn0w, problematicnico, proshipshy … and the list goes on bc they interact with a lot of sh0ta blogs
one of them even say… omg… something about wanting an underage anime character’s “little boy di** to cum in me” im going to kms
I had a quick look at all these blog, and genuinely I think all these people should be in jail. Also very concerned cause I have reasons to believe that 2 of these blogs are minors?! This just proves the argument that these kinds of area of tumblr groom minors into thinking this stuff is okay. Makes me think that a lot of older pro shippers are grooming these KIDS into this kind of behavior. Like I saw one where they were into trans kids and saying vile stuff, another talking bout wanting to take A LITTLE KIDS virginity. It sickens me to my stomach cause many of these GROWN ADULTS should not be fantasizing about raping little boy, no your not a shotacon your a pedophile plain and simple.
It really pisses me off, I dare these people to say half of this shit out loud. Children and childhood innocence should never turn you on period.
Sometimes i feel like i can never get a grasp on the things i love, everything just goes away like sand between my fingers. Maybe thats why i aways loved yanderes so much. The concept of a person loving you no matter what lured me. The idea of being listened to, having quality time, being vunerable and still loved... its like a craving. And it feels wrong, perhaps its my abandonment issues but the idea of a person staying forever is scary, as if they would leave me at any moment and everything was all a lie.
Anyways, sorry for not posting for a while, things have been crazy and i was too emotionally drained to do anything.
If you ever thought the same way, comment so ill know im not alone.
USURPER / YANDERE KAMISATO AYATO — part two to [Sufferance], and the final of [Dysfunctional Marriage]
Summary: Ayato’s plans for you get ruined when your mental health collapses. He believes he can fix you, however, a tragedy occurs.
Not suitable for minors or anyone uncomfortable with the mentioned triggers! You’re reading this at your own responsibility. Reader is really going through it all along with losing her mind, and the story is very dark. Check the warnings twice before you read it.
CW: fem reader / past non-con mentions / eating disorder / suicidal thoughs and idealition / suicide attempt with graphic depictions / gore / injuries / thoughts about abortion and self-mutilation / self-harm / heavy depression and other mental suffering / tokophobia / forced pregnancy mentions / mentions of infanticide / forced feeding / vomiting / suggestive / ayato is very selfish and manipulative / forced marriage / body horror / groveling / nightmares / heavy angst with no comfort and there’s not really any happy ending. Word count: 14,4k.
I will not lie, I cried while writing this work, but I think this is how realistic reader's suffering would be, considering what has been mentioned in the first part.
Doing an inspection on your belly in front of the mirror has become a regular routine for you. Every day, in quantity of multiple times, your mind forced you to stand here and watch out for any change in the lower body’s size — any bloating or roundness, small or terrifyingly going ahead of your feet.
Seeing your reflection was the most difficult after eating — naturally, your stomach would expand being full — making you paranoid that it’s the pregnancy you’ve been willing to escape. Your phobia has reached a point where you decreased your food intake just to avoid the sight you’d dread the most.
However, sometimes you had to quickly move away from the mirror, being reminded of what had transpired few weeks ago. Ayato stripping you, both figuratively and literally, imprinted a memory in your mind so vivid and harsh the visions of it constantly haunted your imagination.
It shouldn’t have made any sense any other day, considering you were used to Ayato repeatedly forcing you to bed with him under an excuse of participating in a marital duty — in his words, not one sided, supposedly with an effort from his side too. But this one time, being exposed and made to finally witness what he’s been doing to you almost everyday thanks to that cursed mirror, reminding you of how bad the act actually was, or how shameful your body was to still react to it, is what pushed you to be scared to close your eyes in case you’d be hit with the picture.
You didn’t like seeing yourself naked in the mirror either, not willing to see a bump or invisible marks his hands have left, so any inspection was done through the layers of kimono. The only comfort you received was when your period came, signaling you’re not pregnant; that is until your body becomes malnourished enough to be deprived of menstruation. And couldn’t women have a slight bleeding, spotting, when they’re pregnant?
Ayato still hasn’t stripped you of the form of birth control, a fact confusing yet making you live in constant distress from the uncertainty he was leaving you in. Your mind suspected it could be any second when he decides it’s the time for you to conceive, just needing to decide which occasion would be most optimal, with your life having been figured out from the very first moment of your marriage. Deciding for you was only his right, being a whole believer he knows what’s best for you despite not even once being in your mind. Your clan wasn’t your clan either, with him making decisions along with you; never you alone, but you wouldn’t receive the same luxury of choosing for his clan.
As your legal guardian, he could have made you do anything really.
More confusing, the fact he hasn’t touched you much lately. Perhaps you’ve became ugly to him, looking all miserable upon your ongoing distress you’ve been buried in the entire time starting from that night; or perhaps he was torturing you by making you believe he gave up on idea, just to punch you with it when least expected and with you starting to relaxing.
You definitely have lost some weight, you noticed when deciding to finally get away from the object intensifying your frighten; especially when you felt as if soon, you’d be hallucinating about being heavily pregnant with your breasts painfully swelled and leaking colostrum that would turn into breast milk hours after going through labour.
Pregnancy couldn’t happen when it wasn’t about having a family, but your husband having taken the last part of you to steal — the gift of being able to create life, cursing your womb with his seed and your body with a reminder of him.
As you left the room, you froze in spot when hearing a voice behind you.
“You’re here again,” it said with a sigh. “Let’s go, servants have set up the table, and it’d be rude to waste their work because you didn’t eat.”
You slowly turned around, not willing to see your spouse so soon after the war your mind has just went through, as if to intensify your unpleasant memories.
“Ah… I’m not hungry—”
“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer. You’ve lost too much weight,” his voice was stern, but not unpleasant — yet. You took a step back when he moved closer to you, and flinched when he put a hand between your shoulder blades to lead you.
Even traveling through the obnoxiously long and creaky floors, the trap set for assassins yet feeling directed at you, your mind was a tangled yarn of thought; pushed through the odd haze and fog your covering any rationality lately. What bothered you was the fact that Ayato hasn’t yet acknowledged the issue of you watching your body and guarding it. He for sure would have noticed everything about you, so him acting ignorant made you worried that perhaps he doesn’t care about how you feel about future children, with the only right answer you having them anyway.
You suddenly noticed something about yourself too — your legs moved, and you were breathing, and others actually perceived your physical form. You were a real person, flesh and bones, not watching some dream your head played. It was all real, and the person you’ve been seeing in the mirror wasn’t an illusion your mind has created.
You paused in your steps.
Ayato looked at you, a brow raised. “Is there a reason for you stopping us?”
“I’m real, aren’t I?” you asked, stuck in some stupor, and lifted up your hand to feel your now cold face; your blood no longer as warm as it used to be, and having removed any glow from it.
Ayato’s eyes showed confusion at your question, not sure why you’d be asking him something above obvious; until his eyes were pensive and he sighed, understanding the implication no matter you didn’t.
“Yes, you are indeed real, my dear. You’re my wife, walking with me to go and eat dinner.”
After entering the dining room, with you placed on the seat by his side, Thoma was soon to bring in different dishes — ones you’ve frowned upon already. The cruel fate, you were about to look bloated again and maybe it’ll turn into a child that an archon has put in you, and maybe that baby will eat at your organs from inside and take away everything from you the same way has done; a baby looking just like Ayato—
You jumped in your seat when Thoma placed his hand on your shoulder. “My lady, are you feeling unwell? Please, you’ve been staring at the food and not eating… It’s not good for you.”
You looked between Ayato and Thoma. The contrast between these two could drive you insane — Thoma’s motherly look and Ayato’s sternness — but you knew better to separate them from each other. Thoma was still Ayato’s most loyal subject, not yours, and while he could care for you there’s things he’d not do for you.
“I’m not hungry. I don’t have any appetite,” you protested, your distress quickly reaching familiar, uncomfortable levels.
Your head snapped to the side when hearing your husband’s firm tone, “I’m afraid it’s not the matter of you having appetite at this point. You should eat regardless, as you’re ruining your own health.”
You’d like to tell him it’s all of his fault, that you’re not being defiant but had your mind to be destroyed by him, but when are you ever being heard?
When you stood up to leave and flight, a hand grabbed your wrist and shoved you down onto your seat, provoking a trashing motion in your body to do anything to defend yourself.
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, dear, but you leave me no other choice.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
With Thoma holding your body from behind, having moved here without you even noticing, Ayato’s hand gripped your jaw and forced your mouth open. That made you feel as if you were choking already, until he shoved not even chopsticks but a ramen spoon into your mouth, filled with as many added ingredients and little of soup as possible.
You gasped and you tried to spit food out, only for him to have predicted your move and shut your mouth, forcing you to chew and swallow. “Eat it. You’re not getting away until you have eaten something,” he warned, lowering some harshness in it to not startle you too much.
All the plans of forced feeding were ruined when your throat made a lurching sound and both men quickly gave you space, realizing what’s about to happen.
With your stomach kicking out everything, so basically none, it was landing on the tatami; with the acid smell managing to soak into these.
One of them, if it wasn’t imaginary, rubbed your back soothingly.
The housekeeper was kind enough to wipe your mouth with a napkin, not once judging or frowning at the disgusting mess you’ve created. It couldn’t be more disgusting than blood or flesh.
“Please take her to our room, Thoma. I’ll have a servant come and clean this mess,” your husband ordered and left ahead of you two. The mind worked to assumed it was truth he hated you and found you unattractive, as the duty of being a caring husband was ruined with him abandoning you here… which didn’t bring a negative impact on you to its fullest potential. You felt like a leftover of a person when he avoided you, yet you were comforted by the fact he wasn’t there.
You reveled in not having been touched for weeks.
“Let’s go, my lady.” Thoma helped you stood up, and with carefulness, he lead your step back to your gilded cage.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to voice out his request for you, until he gathered enough courage, “I’m aware your body cannot handle food, but can I at least offer you some mint tea? You must be dehydrated, and as much as I don’t want to scare you, you must know this condition could even kill you.”
Your stomach twisted at the idea of expanding your organ. However, death seemed like a worse option. Although, entertaiing the idea of death has been on your mind everyday. If you're dead, he can't reach you here. Sufferance can't reach you. Truly, what else did you have to push forward, other than the sense of pride and stubbornness? If anything, you might be an idiot; delusional, believing in someone coming to save you or you being shook awake and told the nightmare is over. “Alright, but just a little…” It was a matter of choosing a lesser evil.
“Yes, just a little.”
•
Falling asleep has come to you at the moment that felt random, despite late hour. Keeping up with time has shaped into difficult lately, your mind whirling and not being sure if it’s been minutes or hours that have passed.
You only could have predicted it must be that late when Ayato finally has joined you on your shared futon, stirring you out of your sleep.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to awake you,” his voice was calm, but laced with his typical tiredness. Perhaps if your marriage was… more consensual, you would be helping him with work, as his own mother had to. Yet with Ayato having pressured you into a difficult situation, one meant to fill you with unwillingness, and work was a risk of communicating with others, he had you as if some sort of eye catcher to appear at his side during guest visits instead. That’s all you were, really, a sign of his wealth.
Living with a lot of time on your hands was a perfect argument to call you ungrateful for not liking the situation if you didn’t have to work much, disregarding the fact it wasn’t about money but freedom, and not being raped, and not being forced to have children, and not being shoved through mind-torturing games.
You only hummed in response, and didn’t try to move away when he laid down next to you and gathered you in his arms. Your mind refused to see it as affection, other than a way to make you feel as if you’re caged to him even your sleep.
Even more when he stroked your face, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Can I expect you to wake up early tomorrow, my dear?” he might have used a tone so soft, if it wasn’t ruined with the fact it wasn’t really a request — just polite way to tell you what to do and check your obedience.
“What’s happening tomorrow?” you asked, your voice uncertain. Any plans Ayato had made with you usually were unpleasant ones, so you safely assumed next time would be just the same.
“We have a doctor visiting us. He needs to check up on you, considering your terrible condition. I am still your legal guardian, so it’s only my responsibility to take care of your health.”
His face turned to be suddenly of confusion when you started to shake in his arms, and your breath was so irregular it turned into hyperventilating. “What’s wrong? It’s just a small visit, you won’t be poked with needles or…”
Only you could have understood your own mind, despite his belief of superiority over your intellect, as words he said were read in the most paranoid way. A doctor. Women who are trying to conceive have to seek out a doctor first. A doctor makes sure they’re healthy enough to carry a child and helps them prepare. That’s why this future father must be intending that, wasn’t he? He has left you alone for weeks, only to crush you back with what he’d planned that unfortunate night. “Two children… you want a family too… you’ll get used to it…”
Your mind didn’t even conclude of the doctor appointment being for your ongoing malnourishment — it couldn’t have when you were scared of something much bigger.
“No, Ayato, please, I’m not ready!” you begged with hysteria and words so familiar to you, proving you distress furthermore when broke into tears, the same pattern from back then.
“I don’t understand why you’re so shaken up, my dear. It’s just a doctor visit and nothing bad will happen. I’m merely making sure you are healthy,” his voice still carried confusion, but he didn’t dare to shame you for your state if it’d make you only worse. He could tell you weren’t being whiny nor faking your behavior, and with still so many questions in mind, he decided to deal with the problem first. “When something strange happens, instead of trying to find out the what could have caused it, it is better to look at the situation itself” — was his common cold logic you’ve hated so much as it didn’t take your emotions into account, forcing you to bottle them up and feel neglected.
He sighed and grabbed your hand, squeezing it hard to attempt grounding you. “My dear, I promise you, nothing bad awaits you tomorrow. Now, breathe with me.”
You couldn’t, not in eyes of paranoid head overthinking and cherrypicking his words-“nothing bad awaits you tomorrow”, so any other day something bad will happen.
Ayato for once cursed under his breath, grasping how serious the situation was.
He was quick to call out for Thoma, who appeared in a matter of few seconds, having recognising the unusual, urgent tone in his master’s tone. “What’s going on, my lord-“ he rushed out, assuming the worst. He was right when he noticed your state, and he quickly kneeled down to both of you. “Oh no, is she having a panic attack?”
“It’d appear so. Thoma, that doctor who was supposed to be here tomorrow, go and send someone to seek him out now. I’m afraid his presence here cannot wait anymore.”
The man was quickly on the case, standing up. “Understood, my lord.” He ran out of the room, knowing the doctor can’t really refuse even if his house was to be burning — that’s how important Kamisato were.
You were reactive again at the news, finally and at long last actually unable to breathe at the notion of doctor coming now. When the helper noticed your passing out figure, he spoke to you loudly, “No, don’t pass out. Stay awake. Just focus on my voice—”
Alas, you were out like a light.
•
Opening your eyes couldn’t be pleasant with a sight of an unfamiliar man, possibly an another on list of people to decide this woman hasn’t suffered enough. With your yukata open, he was using a stethoscope on your chest, chilling you with the coldness of its metal.
Sounds didn’t reach your ears fully yet — they sounded muffled and distant, blurring into one mess.
You were shaken more awake with this man waving his hand in front of your face. “Lady Kamisato, can you hear us? Please don’t worry, you are safe.”
You tried to shove the hand away, being annoyed by it obstructing your vision, but you couldn’t even lift up your own. Your body felt so limp, additionally, as if it weighed almost nothing, blending into the futon under you.
You had to depend on your voice then, too brittle to be called alive. “No… stop this…”
“My apologies.” The doctor moved his hand away from your face, and acknowledged another person in the room. With your ears getting clear, you made it clear to be your husband. “She should be fine, for now. Her heart was elevated too much, but I suspect it’s not just stress but dehydration and malnutrition. There’s a few things we can do, but… it’ll require her cooperation, for which we need to get her into a better… mental constitution first.”
Your voice caught only few words from the doctor, but Ayato’s voice, you heard clearly. You were so scared of him you’d recognize it even through the miles, being wary of him ever approaching you — “I see. How long until the tranquilizer wears off?”
“Give it an hour or two.”
You flinched when you felt a hand on your forehead, gliding your hair back. The futon shifted under a new weight. You finally managed to move your heavy eyes to look at your husband. You weren’t sure if you were this delusional, if he looked sort of worried to you. Maybe it wasn’t worry towards you but what your behavior could cause? “You have quite scared me, my dear wife. You weren’t breathing and then… you collapsed,” his voice sounded less confident too.
Your thoughts wandered to your theory from before. Wasn’t the doctor here to check up on you to make sure you can start for a child? “Ayato… why is the doctor here?” Even in your sedated state you had to make sure you’re in control of the situation, with some awareness of it.
He looked at you with a frown, assuming it should have been obvious after all the weeks worth of degradation in your health. “Well, the priority was to help you and make sure you’re alright after your attack the last night. But the initial intention was related to your latest… stress and lowered food intake. You have not been yourself, and you’ve lost too much weight. I’m sure it affected your body a lot too.”
You weighed his words, trying to look for any hidden agenda. “It’s about my health? Not about pregnancy?” you asked, your eyes so wide from fear and shock.
The doctor and Ayato looked at each other in confusion. “Pregnancy? Are you telling me you’re pregnant?” Ayato’s gaze was now intense, needing to know the truth, and his heart raced, both in dread as it wasn’t a right moment, and excitement as it’s still a mention of what he’s wanted. He assumed you were saying you suspect you’re pregnant and have been hiding it from him, despite it being weeks since the last time he was intimate with you, possibly your stomach just not growing much yet… albeit, if that was the case, your child would be in extreme danger with your body state.
“No!” you quickly protested, no matter if weakly with your state. At least you hoped you weren’t pregnant, considering your paranoia. “I just thought… the doctor here is to… prepare me for it…”
His gaze relaxed, but the frown didn’t leave, and disappointment burned. You were saying such weird things lately; especially now. “No, that’s not the reason for his visit… now is the worst time for you to be getting pregnant.” You swore you saw some dissatisfaction for the moment.
Ayato was off-put by your assumption too, when you were acting more worried about the possibility of getting pregnant than the fact you were destroying your body and losing your mind. Perhaps that was the very cause—you being scared of starting a family with him. In any case, he’d try to get you back in shape and out of this feared thinking.
And you couldn’t believe his words, wondering if he’s playing with you. “R-really?” your voice was too hopeful to his liking, but he’d accept it for now. It was just a stress having accumulated and not released to a while, so once you get better…
“Yes. I promise you that.”
After a few more minutes of clouded doctor doing different measures on you, your eyes closed once again, needing rest when drowsy from the drug.
Doctor took him to another room, needing to discuss your state.
The first thing he said to him was intense, “I hope you’re aware she’s not in any shape to be getting pregnant now. It’s not just the fact her body would be incapable of carrying pregnancy safely, endangering both her and the child with her starving and malnutrition; but also… the risk of postpartum depression or even psychosis is high with her mental state. I’m sure you understand what both could bring, especially the latter…”
Ayato sighed, but he nodded. “Yes… it would only be counterproductive for her to be pregnant now, and would lead to tragedy. A mother being depressed is not going to keep the child taken care of either.” The healer was taken aback by Ayato’s prismatic and technical thinking, detached from what the pain it’d bring you too; yet he was not allowed to judge.
“Although… what does psychosis truly would imply?”
Doctor’s expression became solemn, knowing it’s a dark topic. “A lot of the time it keeps the mother disconnected from the reality and have warped grasp of it, however… there’s been a few cases where besides neglect, it led to her attacking her own child or herself, or even killing them… not out of malice or cruelty, but at fault of their mental state involuntary to them. They could assume they’re doing this as protection from the suffering a world could bring. Lack of support is likely to make their state worse too.”
Ayato’s breath hitched and he had to grab onto the wooden armchair of the couch. Multiple thoughts caused a disarray in his head: if your mental health didn’t suffer, would you still end up in this state if pregnant and it’d be his fault for not predicting it? Would you really be so unwell to have killed your own child? Would you really feel detached from motherhood? Would motherhood really be that dreadful for you?
Was he at fault? Perhaps he’s dropped the pregnancy bomb on you too early… Maybe he should have mentioned it once you’re even more attached and willing. What a stupid mistake from his side.
His heart ached for you; but the selfish need to have a family with you still remained in the back of his head. It was the only thing missing in his life, and he has assumed you’d want it too; considering what you have lost.
“I understand. Please make sure she gets in her best shape, any means necessary. I believe in you, Doctor.”
“I will try my best, Lord Kamisato. The only thing we can do from now is try to put her on medication to relieve her stress, and make sure she eats enough. Albeit, she can’t eat too much at first, so her body doesn’t get in shock…
…But you really need to make sure she eats. One of the effects of starvation can be infertility,” he warned.
Ayato cursed inside his mind. This wasn’t how everything was meant to happen. He expected some struggle from you, but not you actually breaking. Breaking you into more acceptant version, one loving him and your children would be acceptable; but leaving you shattered like a teacup was unacceptable. He still cared about you, in his own way—while he was forcing you to do things you didn’t find pleasant, he still believed them to be beneficial for you, and taken into an account for you to prosper.
Yes, he’s been wanting you obedient, but it’s because he knew what’s best for you and how to keep this family safe upon constant risks. Yes, he was keeping you here, but there were assassins outside, and only going out with him, with one of his ninjas watching you from the distance could keep you not targeted. Yes, he’s been initiating to be intimate with him, but he wasn’t a stranger and wanted you to see it as a normal part of marriage.
Yes, he was trying to make you both parents, but it’s because you both had none.
•
You were being destroyed from the inside. A creature inside your stomach, IT was tearing apart at your womb and eating any part of it. IT was gnawing at your skin, stretching and tearing it until it breaks. Blood was everywhere but IT only drank from it and demanded more.
Your body was dry and skinny, deprived from any nutrition on life as IT has stolen it from you.
IT was Ayato’s helper, ready to steal more from you than he did. Ayato could have done it only externally, so IT grabbed everything from the inside.
That’s why you were a dead, dead body, only managing to walk and feed IT. You weren’t you, you were a vial for IT.
And once IT is born and has done starving and depriving you, another IT will take its place to have just as much fun; if not more. Oh, how IT would laugh if another IT joins it, both at the same time. Your body would beg to regenerate its cells at the maximum speed, recognizing the need to feed IT that was above you, to everyone around you.
IT will carry the stench of your decaying body, the blood and placenta all over it, but only you will smell it, until it rots on your body. Your portal will be ripped open and never heal.
You are just a mean to an end to IT. IT will be worshipped and the future, while you would be only praised for carrying and delivering IT.
You weren’t you, you were IT’s mother. IT swallowed you, despite IT being inside of you. The usurper ruled your womb, and you were born to be taken apart by it.
IT was a part of you, but IT deserved more than you ever had.
•
The servant brushing your hair become frightened and jumped away from you when you woke up with a bloody scream, as if you were being skinned alive.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do, not even once in her life seeing someone behave this way. “My lady, you’re okay—”
“Get it out of me, get it out of me!” you screamed frantically and got on your fours, trying to bend your body in a way where it doesn’t feel as if your stomach was being ripped apart from the inside.
The servant was freed of her duty when Thoma stormed into the room, anyone else and him having heard the scream throughout this chamber. Screams most concerning when you were behaving as if in agony.
You were crying, and so was the servant, both startled and worried for you, and it had to be the housekeeper to hold onto your hands so you don’t try to beat at your stomach. Ignoring your trashing, he pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard to not let you get away and to keep you safe. “Go and find Lord Ayato,” he passed to the servant, it being the only thing she could manage at the moment. “Do it!” he barked seeing her hesitation, until she finally caught to his words and ran from the room to find your husband.
“My lady, please, tell me what are you so scared of?” he asked, feeling shaken up himself. You’ve been frenzy for weeks, stuck staring into the space as if absent, you were not eating, you were visiting your wardrobe for some reason, you looked troubled and anxious, but it was last days that truly were difficult for you.
“I can’t… take it out of me…” you gasped out, crying violently into his chest.
His grip on you tightened, moved by the vulnerability in your voice. “Take out what?” his tone was worried, wondering if you even know what you’re saying.
“That cursed creature of child!” you begged, and your body shook.
His body tensed, shocked by your words. From his knowledge, you weren’t pregnant. You couldn’t have been pregnant if it was clear to him that you and Ayato hadn’t bedded for weeks, having no sheets to clean due to certain liquids.
“My lady… you don’t have any child in you. You’re not pregnant. It was just a nightmare,” he spoke more softly, wanting to reassure you with a truth you desperately needed.
He knew it worked when you halted in your crying for a moment, trying to understand if he was honest or lying for his lord’s benefit. “Y-you promise, Thoma?”
“I promise. You still have your period, don’t you?”
You realized he’s right. You still had your period even if you were nearing the point where it’d disappear from malnutrition. When you nodded, he could have felt your muscles relax somewhat; still frightened and not fully back in reality, clinging onto his words.
He held you for a bit more, until the door has opened.
Ayato looked at both of you, standing in the entrance and towering over you both with a watchful gaze, his eye twitching a little at the closeness of his wife in another man’s arms. He spoke, “I can take it from here, Thoma. Thank you.”
“Yes, of course, my lord…” He slowly released your body, and stood up, trying to not give into your whimper of beg when you weren’t so eager to be alone with blue hair red man.
He waited for Thoma to leave, and when he did, he kneeled down in front of you. His hand landed over your cheekbone, gently wiping through tears for you, as if making sure to not startle you. When you lowered your gaze to look at the floor, he let you do this, for once in months not forcing your chin up to be looking at him.
He didn’t ask you anything yet, having a hunch you’d be too emotional to not get double emotional under his words.
Seeing you get a bit exhausted, he scrambled you into his arms, and gently laid you both down on the futon; even ignoring the stench and wetness of your sweat on it. He can wash himself or the futon, but you did require to be watched over.
As you lied on your side, staring blankly at his chest, for a moment forgetting he’s here, you felt the safest inside your mind; or rather inside the detachment of it. The emptier your head was, the less you had to experience your dreadful reality and acknowledge the fact that all of that had happened indeed had happened. That Ayato is real, and that he has taken away from you and planned to do even more, and your future children would take from you — they’d join him in thievery.
It was his question that snapped you out of the comfort zone, and you looked up at his concerned expression. Was this really him? You didn’t like him being conferenced. Him being rough was painful and scary, nonetheless that’s what you were used to, and that’s what let you read his intentions. New emotions raised new concerns and questions for you to solve to think of ways of protecting yourself.
“Is it possible for you to tell me what did you dream about?” You shuddered at the inquisitive wording.
“I…” your voice trembles and you held onto your stomach. “I thought I was with a child… but it was a monster, destroying me from the inside…”
“… You saw a baby as a monster?” he tried to confirm, his voice uncertain. In his experience, he was usually surrounded by women cherishing their children. His own mother loved him and Ayaka dearly; even if oftentimes too employed in for them, as result having to leave them with a nanny. The idea of a woman dreading pregnancy is something he did understand, considering the possible pain, complications and consequences behind it, but seeing children as something evil…
“It’s a parasite. I don’t want a baby inside of me.” You thought Ayato has stolen everything from you that night, but it was actually going to be you having your children — he’d conquer your body, have it used for something else, and then your children would join in both being heavy on your body; then occupying your existence with having to take care of them that you never wanted. Theorizing, if you and Ayato had entered marriage normally, willingly, you’d be happy to have children. In reality, how can you have them and be happy when it’s with a man like him, especially too sorrowed and minced to take care of yourself and let alone them?
Seeing him in them would make you want to cover their faces with masks to wear everyday.
Over above, you yearned to keep something to yourself, if you couldn’t have the most.
These children didn’t deserve to be born either. Ayato was cruel to think of letting them live. There was a possibility he’d love them and make them laugh — a sentence was in making them have a mother who’d have to force herself to take care of them, to never be affectionate with them and treat them like they did something to her; inputting guilt in them for having been enforcing her struggle — that was the true selfish act here. There’s no way they wouldn’t catch up with the dynamic between you two, realizing something is wrong. Children were more observant that people gave them credit for.
You were more merciful towards them than Ayato. You were more self aware than him despite you being the one losing your mind here.
“A parasite—a baby is not a parasite, my dear—” his words were quickly cut off when you slapped his face. You both became ice sculptures, frozen and not moving — him from the shock, and you from the realization of what you have done. The fear overtook you, hitting twice hard after a break from discipline for weeks, thinking he’s going to slap you in return or punish you.
You closed your eyes and flinched when his hand was coming near your face, expecting the force even more painful than your own. What you felt instead was Ayato pinching your cheek, not even hurting it.
You opened one eye, too scared to see his angry face fully. The second popped open when seeing his teasing gaze instead, wondering if you truly have lost your mind. The last time you’ve really seen this sort of expression was months before your wedding, when he was still making you smile; when you were still living in pleasant oblivion of who he truly was. He was expected to be angry at your disobedience, not treating it lightly and looking soft as if you’ve committed a silly, honest mistake.
“That wasn’t very pleasant, darling.” He pinched your cheek again, chuckling like an angel. “Now we’re even.”
This was wrong. This felt wrong. He had no right to be affectionate and playful as if he was love and on honeymoon, all happy.
“That’s it?” you mumbled out, the additional dread added, panicking at your lack of knowledge.
He feigned confusion, “Well, would you want me to punish you?” His words caused the well known desire to beg to stop, and you quickly shook your head. “Then let’s say that’s it. Now, go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As he watched you fall asleep, having no choice when you were exhausted and almost feverish from your distress, he had a thought in mind.
The bird with an extraordinarily long tongue, one that used to speak a lot and share any anecdotes, had its tongue cut off and couldn’t chirp anymore — it was only not thrown away, pitied and not used enough.
•
When you have woken up, you were surprised to see Ayato still lie next to you. Usually, he wouuld have been off to work already. So unusual you had to steal a glance at the watch on wrist he always wears, and grow confused at it being 8am.
You couldn't believe he was late for once. You shook his shoulder, ready to kick out your husband to have some space under the excuse of him having to work. “Ayato, get up! You slept in,” you urged.
Eventually, he heard you and had his eyelids lift just in half. Looking at you, he spoke in a drowsy tone, “No, not today. I am taking a break. Go back to sleep.”
He pulled you closer, while you were still confused by his words. Why was he suddenly taking a break? Something was wrong, especially combined with the way he has acted last night. You've never liked him hiding his intensions from you, as they usually landed up being awful when finally manifested.
However, you could have only settled down in his unmoving arms; still awake as you were too anxious. With his break, it was no surprise he was taking advantage to sleep for all times he couldn't have.
Using you as a pillow too, with his head on your shoulder. You had time to observe his peaceful expression, one that makes it unimaginable of what this man was capable of. It wasn't just you who was his victim — it was corrupted politicians despite him being corrupted himself, anyone threathening his family or stability, or even innocent people he liked to provoke just to see theirs reaction. Innocently pulling the strings for people doing his dirty work was a bonus.
Him being handsome gave him a whole of privelege to further make you seem the villain — of course people automatically assume that good looking people can't do bad, while ugly have to be the offender. If you were to go to the outside world, who would have really believed you? Should they have been given a chance to witness your dynamic first hand, some of them would still try to judge him to be innocent to look for some reason of his behavior in you, blaming you for causing him to have taken this course of action with you.
If you could, you'd tell other women to never marry a man much richer than them — there will be always a power imbalance and their husband not acting on it was only men’s mercy, not a right given to these women.
The wait has turned into an hour when he finally set you free to sit up, stretching his body. The slightly grumpy expression was almost cute to you, and you would have teased him about it if you didn't want to not give him attenttion. He turnerd to look at you, observing you intensely for a moment, as if assessing your state. You were still a mess, naturally, so there was a lot of work ahead of you.
"Good morning, my dear wife."
“Morning…” you muttered. You didn't feel good about the idea of him having a break, even if normally appearing selfish taken out of the context — you wanted as little time with him as possible. He smiled at you, not too widely, and mentioned, “I know the situation is very stressful for you, and that is has taken a toll on your body... that's why me and our doctor has decided that you should start taking a medication. Nothing too bad, I swear, before you start having some unsavory thoughts.” He grabbed your hand to hold it while delievering the news.
And he was right bout the thoughts — your fate was to alwasy be suspicious of any of his actions. Won't the medicine make you feel weak and foggy, so he can take advantage of you further? The subservience potential creeped up in your stomach, forcing cold sweat over you. “Is it neccesary? Is there no other way—?”
"If you will cooperate, we can go anywhere you like."
Your mouth opened and hang in this position, not believing at the sudden offer... or rather coercion. Which didn't mean you weren't desperate to go somewhere other than this cursed estate and old, boring places not too far away from the estate explored enough as another tool to make you feel crazy . He then enticed you further. “We can bring Ayaka too. She's been worried about you and I'm sure she would love to come with her sister-in-law.”
The idea of Ayaka being there with you was indeed comforting. Another person to turn to when talking, not being suffocated by his presence alone. Ayaka was kind, and while usually on her brother's side, she wasn't aware of the reality of your relationship. Despite living here together, Ayato was still a mastermind who managed to turn the situation to look in different vibrating to her — “Sadly, she's still mourning her parents and cannot help but be stressed by the situation” type of gaslighting. Not to mention that the estate was so big you were quite separated from her, with her not being able to enter this part as it was your chambers — private for two lovers.
“All I want from you is to take that medicine and eat some light breakfast. You can’t swallow it on empty stomach, let alone ruin your health further with neglect. You're getting so skinny rapidly, that I actually…" his voice cracked. Then tears appeared. Less than ten, but that was a lot coming from Ayato.
You froze in your spot, having an urge to turn your head away and leave the room. He deserved all the pain in the world, but seeing him weep, it was most shocking. You weren't used to seeing him spill much empathy on you, let alone cry... was he really that worried for you? Did he actually care? Was he finally regretting what he has done to you, or was it just guilt?
"Um... please, don't cry, Ayato..." you moaned out in distress. You didn't want to take care of responsibility for his own misery when you had enough burden of your own, and when it just wouldn't be fair to now also be his therapist.
Ayato wiped his tears, looking at you with something akin to embarassment. "Ah, how shameful of me... I just don't want to..." his voice cracked again, "…see you go,” he choked out.
You were really uncomfortable, almost feeling bad for him as you weren’t as cruel as him, so you have finally given in, just wanting him to stop tormenting you like this. "Okay, I will do what you asked me of. Just… calm down."
He perked up at your words. "Really?" when you nodded, he smiled. "That's a relief. Thank you." With both hands on the sides of your head, he pulled it in to kiss your forehead.
As you were about to leave, the aversion to eating has returned at prospect of seeing your stomach expand and believe there's a child within you. Ayato noticed, deciding to just now reveal his assertions. "Listen to me carefully, my dear... I think I've realized the reasoning your visits to the wardrobe, and if I'm right what’s the cause, I promise you that you're not pregnant."
"O-oh, yeah, that makes sense..." you tried to agree, for now, pushing through phobia to earn your reward.
He slowly stood up, helping you too. Holding your hand, he led you out of the room, ready to recite to his cooks to what create for your sensitive body.
•
You were positively surprised to see Ayaka join you at breakfast, even if she appeared concerned enough to gnaw at your chest and hurt it with guilt. "Oh, dear, I was so worried about tou!" she voiced out like a worried mother, and took you away from Ayato, helping you sit down next to her. You were so skinny compared to your previous weight, you looked so worn out like a rag being squeezed out of its water, your hair has surely thinned out too, and your nails always carefully painted were now chipped out along with your chapped lips. Not to mention you seemed somewhat incoherrent, your reactions being slowed down.
However, she tried to not give a feeling of judgy, not wanting you to feel insecure.
“I know you had trouble eating… so how about we start with something light? A bit of tamago and vegetables?” Ayaka asked.
You were still unsure about eating, having it imprinted in you to your bone marrow, yet with you were feeling so weak lately, combined with the truth you were told you are not pregnant and you were weak against Ayaka, you nodded.
Ayaka smiled widely in relief and praise, and placed some plates in front of you. “I think matcha is bound to make you nauseous, so try peach tea… do you want honey in it?” she poured you cup and you thanked her.
The older brother watched over you two with no comment, letting Ayaka do her magic.
•
After breakfast, Ayaka took you away from Ayato and to her own chambers, wanting to put some sparkle back in you.
As she was combing your hair, you had to admit it was the most pleasant feeling in a while.
You found comfort in Ayaka because she didn’t take from you. While she could be almost as cunning as her sibling, she was usually more selfless and any “selfish” things she wanted was just spending time with you when others couldn’t. Thoma, the second closest, might have not been stealing from you too — however, he was Ayato’s apprentice, more loyal even than a dog.
“Say…” she started, her soft hand gently gathering your hair back. “How do you feel about… motherhood?”
Ayaka immediately regretted poking at that part of you, seeing you quickly turn from content to panicked as if you saw someone being killed. However, maybe she didn’t expect this sort of reaction, yet had her suspicions for a while.
“No, no, I’m so sorry—” she said, feeling panicked herself, before she hugged you from behind, holding you to her chest. “Forgive me. You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell my brother anything. I promise on my late parents.”
She hold you for a few minutes like this, waiting for you to calm down. Her heart twisted when you gave a confession you desperately wanted someone to not just hear, but acknowledge and see as right and not overdramatic. “Ayaka, I don’t want to be a mother,” your voice cracked and you started crying.
Now she understood the extent of your unwillingness. When her brother has mentioned the idea of you soon trying for a child, she assumed your reaction to be stress at first. When your state has been getting worse and worse and Ayato kept telling her it’s because you were reminded of your family this way, her gut instinct whispered to her that it wasn’t entire truth — she wasn’t a clueless, naive girl either. And now, you have confirmed her suspicions. You were actually terrified of having children.
She just didn’t know if you’ve never wanted them, or if it’s with Ayato. “Does my brother not know that?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“He does. He thinks it’s a matter of changing my mind! That once we’re there, I’ll want it! But I know I won’t! And it’s not an idiotic gamble!” you said hysterically, unable to control your anger once I someone allowed you to let it out. “It’s only what if you’ll enjoy it, when there’s also what if you don’t!”
“I… I’m sure brother is just this eager, but surely he must understand now…” she tried to explain his behavior, still refusing to see it as truth. Yes, her brother did sometimes scare her, only to be soothed with care for you both a second later. But the extent of your depression lately, the rumors — you wouldn’t behave this way for no reason. It wasn’t a tantrum, it wasn’t stress, you were actually killing yourself with some dark mist growing from inside of you and swallowing you more and more everyday.
She had more material to be assured when seeing you start to tremble. “No, don’t cry, I will talk to him. You don’t have to have children if you don’t want them… I-I mean, I’ve always wanted them myself, so it’s not as if the future of this clan is not possible…”
Her words sparked some hope within you, but they weren’t enough. Aren’t you using her this way, because what if she’s lying to take a burden onto herself? Will Ayato accept an heir not coming directly from him? Will he accept the idea of not having a family on his own, one he’s desperately wanted?
“You don’t have to—” you protested. “No, it must be done,” you were taken aback by her serious and sort of angry tone. The idea that someone was on your side felt unreal, and you were worried for her.
However, you knew that once Ayaka sets her mind on something, she’s an unstoppable force.
You lowered your eyes onto the floor, as she reassumed her actions, to think the conversation didn’t happen. “Let’s not focus on it now. I just want to pamper you a bit, before we head out.”
Soon, your hair was styled up nicely to fit your features, a slight makeup was applied to hide your misery and remind you you’re still a human, for these gentle hands to help you dress up appropriately to today’s chilly but sunny weather.
When you two met Ayato outside, he froze for a moment, before retaking his calm expression— a smile adorned his face. He didn’t remember the last time you looked this lovely and not beaten up.
“You look beautiful, my love.” He approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before he draped his hand over your waist to led you to the carriage.
When Ayaka observed you two, despite Ayato’s affectionate gestures she’d typically see as his love and care for you, she now paid attention to your reactions as a priority— you looked rather tense, with your eyes widening and flinching in almost fear.
Were you being paranoid or has Ayato been hurting you?
•
You slept throughout your ride, despite wanting to desperately watch the view outside. Your head was against his shoulder, with Ayato occasionally glancing down at your face despite blue eyes drilling holes in him.
He had to acknowledge Ayaka’s weird language. “Something’s wrong, sister?”
Ayaka blushed at being caught with a nervous squirm, only to shake her head. “No, brother, I’m just worried for my sister in law…”
Ayato scrutinized her expression, thankfully not deciding to question her further. “I see.”
•
You were shaken awake upon arrival, hearing the shuffling of Ayaka setting up blankets and porcelain outside. You’ve request some place outside as the promised by him trip, where others wouldn’t reach, too embarrassed at the prospect at someone seeing your current state. There were already many rumors in Inazuma, hearing about Yashiro commissioner’s wife being in terrible shape, supposedly having come down with some mysterious sickness. You didn’t need to be scrutinized more than Ayato already has dissected you.
“Dogs are instinctually loyal. But no matter how well-behaved a dog might be, it gets unhappy if it's cooped up in the same place for too long.” — you didn't wish to hear that again either.
When Ayato helped you step out, you were met with a sight of green fields and flowers on top of the hill. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you looked more alive than ever, that both siblings were surprised.
You’ve been surrounded by the nature in the estate, with wonderful gardens and flowers, but… they were only a reminder, mundane upon seeing it for years, and made to look more elegantly artificial than natural.
This was the true, raw nature, untouched by anything. You wished you were untouched by anything else too, and live in a place where only you exist. It was chilly outside, but it only added to the pleasantry of feeling the nature; and the sun still looked as beautiful. And if you were to get bored of the place, the wind would carry you somewhere else and you, a flower, would be creating more sprouts as the bee lands on you. Bee wouldn’t take but give and help you in sailing away like a sailer choosing to be lonely and not feeling lonely.
When Ayaka gave you food to eat, for once you ate and actually enjoyed it. When she asked you to help pick up flowers, you were at first hesitant, not wanting to disrupt that free nature, but gave in when she reassured they’ll bloom again the next spring, and when her trained hands shaped a crown, you let her put it on you.
You actually forgot Ayato was there, and when you remembered, you felt weird having realized he hasn’t interrupted you two yet.
Only when you were feeling tired again, he placed your head on his lap, stroking it to help you fall asleep. You didn’t want to accept his affection. You really didn’t. But you were tired, not even physically, so starved of humanity you just let him.
“I’ll let you know this is where our parents used to bring us. Me and Ayaka haven’t come here for many years after, until now,” he murmured gently, drowsiness making you feel loved by his tone.
Your brows furrowed, wondering why he was being vulnerable with you. “What has changed?”
“Finally it’s not so empty here… not if you’re here.”
•
Next days have been… surprisingly easy on you. Ayato has been acting gentle and affectionate with you, as if truly willing to help you get better; with pills helping you keep your nerves in check.
Nonetheless, back of your mind has never left you alone — is he helping you to get better, or to get better so he can finally try for your first child? Ayaka still didn’t inform you if she has confronted him, but for now…
You tried to catch all the peace you could. Finally at the state where your brain forced you to ignore any repercussions and let yourself to be taken care of, it was only natural. You had no choice, if you didn’t want to shatter against the floor entirely.
Ayato has been occupied, yet less as he let Ayaka take on more duties so he can spend time with you, pampering you. You were wary of his presence, a mechanism forced into you — in the past not ever being able to rest unless you were drunk or coming down from an orgasm — but you chose to be delusional willingly.
“A-are you sure this is safe?” you asked, seeing a set of tools meant for cleaning ears. A tradition in Inazuma, one you never had a chance to participate in, being busy with less relaxing activities put on you by your parents.
“Yes, trust me. I wouldn’t hurt your precious ears. I have an experience in doing this to Ayaka.”
“If you say so…” you said hesitantly, as placed your head on his lap. Your feet twitched when he started with a fluffy stick, feeling bit squirmy.
“Someone’s ticklish, hm?” he teased and you felt something warm within his chest. That tone voice, so similar to your time during engagement…
“No… everyone’s ears are sensitive…” you tried to bite back upon your embarrassment.
“Maybe, but yours especially,” he teased again, winning this small banter. It was easy to forget what he’s done to you, your mind thinking that perhaps you have overestimated his behavior… maybe he’s never been this bad and just wanted the best for you?
You no longer knew what was true. You couldn’t, when he constantly kept pushing you into different directions.
As he cleaned your ears, you ended up falling asleep like a baby. In your last moments, you felt his hand stroke your face and put a kiss to your hand he’s lifted up.
•
The place of your awaking was in the familiar bedroom. The spouse wasn’t here, so you assumed he must have returned to his duties. Some small part felt disappointment… not necessarily from missing him, if not the affectionate gestures.
You’ve decided to seek out Ayaka, wondering if she’d be willing to spend time with you; now unable to feel safe alone.
When slipping inside her chambers, you’ve been hit with flashbacks so many you almost fainted on the spot.
Ayaka and Ayato were arguing. The conversation that was meant to happen finally was in motion. What finally has truly broken you, with no point of return or hope you’ve been coming back to despite thinking it’s gone every previous time, was his words. You stood frozen, your every other sense than hearing being shut down to hear the final blow that’d kill you.
“She’s just not doing well at the moment. Once she is okay again, she’ll be able to have these children. This is what she needs to finally settle down!”
You felt a hand grab at your throat, despite not anyone touching you. Your hand immediately went down to the stomach, wondering if stabbing yourself would prevent the fatum placed on you; contradicting its definition.
Ayato has been fooling you the entire time. He wasn’t affectionate because he’s wanted you to get better. He’s been affectionate because he wanted to harvest you to be in shape to have children, to fulfil his selfish goals; or at least even if might have cared, this was his main intention. Those tears must have been crocodile, meant to make you feel bad for him. Your hopes were destroyed like the first time of you signing the contract.
He didn’t stop taking from you. He’s been waiting for you to regrow so there’s more to grab again. Then your body as it suffers from your pregnancy. Then your children would take too, and laugh at you while praising his work.
You truly had nothing left. You’d age with forced to watch them flourish, and them to have everything you couldn’t have.
Your entire existence has been made to be cursed, for you to be used, from the moment you were born. A child meant to never be loved but expected to work for her family with no minding to her own dreams, a child losing her parents, a child having to survive on her own while being used by her own family who refused to help, a woman meant to be given into the hands of some other disgusting man, a woman ruined by Ayato. Especially him — being given hope only for it to be crushed entirely the moment she starts to enjoy life. How had you even survived from the beginning? Did gods hate you? Did Shogun hate you? Was Celestia laughing at you from above?
You should have done this a long time ago — you thought of your intention, when withdrawing from the chamber to find a spot. You were stuck in some form of catatonic tension as you walked. Your mind didn’t think, but you knew where to go. Suddenly, everything looked black and white but you didn’t even see.
The thoughts of mutilation were forgotten — even childless, you’d still have to live with him. Maybe he’d force you to adopt. If you were to get pregnant somehow, you doubted you’d have any chance to get rid of the child yourself.
You wondered if your mother was as unwilling to have children and forced to have you, and that’s why she’s never loved you.
You were lucky find the laundry room unattended. You liked that — the last moment being filled with being alone, someone not wanting something from you for once; no matter if you felt awfully lonely too. Your life has started lonely, even being surrounded by people, and it will be lonely as it ends; creating a full cycle, perhaps meant to strike you once again in next life.
You thought about what everyone else would think. Would they regret not helping you? Would they feel guilty, not because they cared, but because it weighed on their conscience? Would Ayato be sad only because the object of his torment was gone?
You felt bad only for Ayaka, really.
But in the end, it didn’t matter if you’re going to be dead. In fact, you’d be pretty pissed to end up in some afterlife. It could be paradise of sort, but you’d resent to exist.
The only thing you feared, as you were throwing laundry rope over the beam in the room was you being stuck in Inazuma, walking around as a ghost. Ghosts and spirits did exist, the same way gods existed. Leave this world with problems unsolved and you might never ascend until you’re soothed and problems were resolved; possibly left to suffer and scare people with your moans for centuries. So at least, you removed your shoes.
When putting the seat servants used to wash and hurt their hands, you wondered how much Celestia hated people who commit suicide — were they mad their plans were ruined, the same way he would be mad?
You didn’t even notice when you were standing up on it and placing the noose around you. When jumping you down, you expected to hear a crack of the spine before you’d see black and not move.
After few seconds, you realized you were not out. Instead, you were suffocating. As a natural reaction, you started to trash, the instincts trying to stop the asphyxiation. Your body ended up swaying as a result, only tightening the noose you desperately tried to remove. It was different dying instantly from dying for many minutes of the worst torture.
Your jaw hurt and your eyes bulged out, along with your tongue. Your lungs burned, with you were to be dizzy and wanted to vomit. The rope dug into your neck most painfully.
You wanted to scream for help but your vocal cords were to shut off.
Within five minutes, you passed out, your last thought being of not waking up again.
•
Two servants were passing through the corridor, carrying heavy baskets of laundry while they gossiped.
“Seriously, I wonder what’s going on with our lady… Lord Ayato seems like a really good man, and he’s mentioned she’s been sick, but what exactly? To me, she seemed more troubled than sick…”
“I know, right? Do you think they’re having some conflict of sorts?”
“But what could they be conflicting about? Is it because he’s too busy?”
“I don’t know… but I wouldn’t mind marrying a man like him, even if bu—” Her innocent fantasy was cut off when both of them heard a loud noise from the room they were getting close to. It sounded like a heavy object falling, thumping against the floor and echoing with a dull sound.
They both stopped and looked at each other in worry. “Hey, do you think someone collapsed?”
“I mean… this room tends to be hot and humid, so it wouldn’t be a surprise…”
When they entered the room, their screams of terror shook the entire estate.
•
Ayato’s and Ayaka heated conversation were interrupted by Thoma barging in without knocking.
“Thoma, do you have no respect coming-” Ayato scolded in annoyance, but his friend cut him off frantically.
“My lord, your wife!” he said with the biggest fear his lord have seen before. Ayato immediately knew some tragic have happened, and suspected what it could have been considering your latest state. Were you dead? Ayaka let out a startled sob, more from shock for the realization would whip her fully.
“Where?” He didn’t even ask what transpired. He had to reach you immediately.
“The laundry room, in the third wing!”
It was all three of them that ran here, but Ayato ran the fastest. It could have been either you being so sick or you attempting… the latter was likely, if you ended up in a random location.
He barely stopped himself from vomiting when noticing you on the floor. You, purple, not moving, with your own vomit on the side, and… servants trying to resurrect you, meaning you weren’t breathing either.
He wasn’t thinking, he was now only acting — he shoved the servant away, not caring about them landing, and took over the act. He was ready to crack your rib if he had to, whatever that’d not stop him from saving you.
“Go get a doctor!” he screamed at everyone standing around, most frightened from all of them as if he finally decided to be a human.
It was Thoma who had most courage to leave and seek out help, and other servants had to force Ayaka out of the room who was desperately trying to get to you.
His heart broke when it’s you who had no choice and be the broken thing, but he kept pushing onto your chest while blowing air into your mouth.
You couldn’t die. His mother has died. His father has died. And you were going to die, not even by some assassin’s hand, but your own; if not his?
He sobbed the hardest when he saw your chest finally move, you inhaling air.
You barely opened your eyes after, but it was you staying with him. You’re not going anywhere, you couldn’t!
Not comprehending the situation to the frustration of your brain, you wondered why was it raining after your death. But when hearing the familiar voice, begging you to be okay, you realized it was the same animal pound of hell. But… the devil was crying, for once being honest and not deceiving. Shame it was so late. And it wasn’t better late than never situation.
You wanted to tell him to go away, but your throat couldn’t speak. The last thing you’d heard, barely, was a sound of someone else bursting to the room.
•
In your unconscious state, you saw an unfamiliar to you woman. She looked like you, but wasn’t you, and she couldn’t if she actually laughed, and her hair was healthy, and she served customers ramen with a smile on her face, eagerly listening to their stories.
And when her work was done, she walked on her way home, through a road decorated with lavender melon trees, a sun soon about to set and create an orange hue as warm as the day was.
And when she entered her house, she had her cat greet her, before they both would sit down to read together and when they woke up, her face was bright as the sun when noticing the hydrangeas had finally bloomed.
•
The dream was over when you woke up, a distant memory of what you’d daydream everyday as a teenager. The reality was much different, too scary to not be spread between multiple people to make it more bearable.
Your chest hurt. Something suffocated your hand and hurt it too.
“Darling? Can you hear me?” Ayato asked desperately, with some happiness in his voice. When you nodded, he asked another question, “Can you speak? It’s okay if you can’t, you’ll get there.”
“I… hate you,” is the first thing you could have said when waking up. You’ve said it many times in the past, always brushed off as a defiance or emotionality. But you’ve meant it every time, and this time especially.
Ayato’s hand gripped yours more tightly, surprisingly devoid of scolding. “I know,” he admitted quietly.
The words were unimaginable to hear, however, too delayed after months you didn’t feel relief at him agreeing with you. You were never heard and you weren’t heard now either, it was just something he had no choice but to admit or he’d look like an ignorant fool.
He really had to try hard not to cry again. Tormented when finding himself confused by his own emotions, deciding which ones were frustration at the miscalculation and being denied, which ones were guilt and which one was love and empathy for you being provoked.
As the doctor assessed your state, trying to talk softly realizing you were now the most vulnerable and at risk of repeating the gesture if left alone, Ayato’s hand didn’t leave yours the entire time.
“She thankfully can still speak, and her spine wasn’t damaged. The rib will heal, but… you have to be really patient with her, Lord Kamisato. She will recover physically, but getting to be stabile is a very difficult and long journey.”
There was one more thing he hasn’t mentioned to you, but has mentioned to your guardian before you woke up — one you shouldn’t be hearing at the moment.
When the doctor left, you saw your husband’s face turn into anger. “How could you have tried this? How could you be so selfish and try to leave me? Try to leave Ayaka? Even Thoma? Do you have no respect for your own life or your own family?!”
The words hit you and you couldn’t process them with how severely unfair, unreasonable and cruel they were. You’ve just tried to end your life, after he has literally destroyed you and put you through worst things imaginable. He was the selfish one to take without being asked, to gain at your expense, and pretend a gilded cage makes it a fair trade — did you miss some detail that’d make him to be the one right here)
Your eyes were bulging out again, this time from shock. If you thought you felt agony, you would say now it would kill you itself. You didn’t speak. You let the words sink for a while, before you rebutted, “You ruined me, Ayato. How can I be selfish for wanting to free myself of this?” You didn’t even know how you could speak at this point, exhausting the last of breaths before it’d be just your body.
“I didn’t ruin you. I built you up. You had nothing, I saved your family from the ruin, I gave you a safe home and wanted to give you a family too!” he raised his voice at you, making you flinch.
“Then why did you have to treat me this way?! Why treat me this way? Why did you have to torment me instead of letting me live with you?!”
When he saw your eyes well up with tears, he knew he was fucking up saying those things to you when you were probably ready to hurt yourself again. The righteous man he was, he had to shake some sense into you. “That’s how order is built. If you weren’t led by me, you wouldn’t have survived a day in this family. You might have survived yours, but barely, and it’d never compare to MY family’s suffering.”
You thought you couldn’t breathe again. You were shaking, and you were sobbing so loudly you didn’t hear his words anymore. The pain in your chest intensified and you would pass out if provoked more. Your mind was being slaughtered by his words. He really thought order is more important than your wellbeing, and he disregarded any difficulties you went through, thinking it’s unimportant as long as his were worse. How can a human creature meant to be equipped with empathy to actually achieve the full build, could compare two tragic lives? “You…” you gasped out, high on panic. “Can’t push me off the cliff… and expect me to be grateful for you saving me…”
The words clearly struck something in him, as if having realization, before he was throwing frustration at you once more. “Things aren’t black and white—”
Too bad, as you started to scream with a cry for him to stop tearing you apart, and banging your head against the floor. It hurt, of course it did, but you preferred this pain than the one from the carved out hole Ayato has left in your soul.
And he immediately regretted his words, ones of wanting to blame you so he doesn’t have to blame himself, and could feed his selfish side not being satisfied. He quickly landed on top of you, holding your bleeding head under his hand so you can’t hurt yourself more; end up with concussion or even crack in your own skull — you probably would have reached there, at this point. He was scared, both for you and of you. His precious wife really had nothing in her to keep her going, and he had nothing to make her happy.
“Stop, please, I’m begging you!” he was crying too, holding your trashing form in his arms. He wasn’t holding you but himself too. “I’m so sorry, you’re right, it was all my fault! Just don’t leave me, I beg of you…”
The doctor who was on duty in the room next to yours, ready to tackle your possible episode in case you have it, has heard all and entered the room. He ignored the fact how uncomfortable for his employer it’d be to be witnesses this way, prompted by the wonder if it’s both of you that he had to sedate.
“Let me go!” you screamed again. “I don’t want to do this anymore!” The man forcing you to stay still cried harder seeing you beg to be taken away, and it was difficult for him to hold you down for the doctor to administrate dose.
His panic was soothed down only somewhat once you were no longer crashing down; for all that, your ongoing tears told him you were no longer with him.
He let the doctor patch your forehead, and it was only one less problem, swallowed by waves of much bigger cruelties thrown at you and him.
Ayato, for once in his life, had no solution to deal with so far and always to be the biggest problem. He could have ruled entire political organization and clan simultaneously, but fixing one broken woman felt impossible.
He held you entire night like this, even when you were barely coherent; not stoping after the sedate has worn off. You were stuck inside your own mind which finally has given up, as it couldn’t accommodate more tragedy.
Ayato felt like the most evil man in the world, even if as dissatisfied about having his biggest dream ruined by you — regardless of him never having a right to fulfil it at your expense.
If he hadn’t placed his own rules on you, scared of you going away or doing something stupid, you wouldn’t have ended up this way. He thought the worst can happen if he’d have taken this route of freedom, but stripping you away of all of it you had was the true tragedy. The other route, he failed to take your happiness enough into account, believing you were someone who needed to be controlled to finally have some weight off shoulder; and that if you went through so much already, you were a fighter to take this much before you come down.
But who he would be kidding if he said his needs didn’t come first? He was a man cursed with duality—to be able to both love and take. And the taking part was too heavy on the scale to weight it proportionately.
In the end, he had to ignore his disappointment — he wouldn’t and couldn’t take on this route again. The words, both yours and doctor’s left a heavy impression on him.
“You pushed me off of the cliff and expected me to be grateful for you saving me.”
And the unsealed by you, whispered out of your vision — “I wont be any gentle with you when I tell you she’s not allowed to have any children, even if one day you believe she’s doing better. Push her again, and it will cause another tragedy. Her mental wellbeing is too prioritized to expect her to take care of children.”
He’ll never have a family on his own. No replecament for his dead parents, just you and his sister. Not even adoption was an option, when you wouldn’t be able to carry this burden on your shoulders.
He looked at your form stating at the ceiling. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just don’t give up on me. On us. On yourself. I need you. You can have all the freedom you want, just—” he buried his face into your neck, sobbing here — much more when you didn’t react, and much more when noticing the rope burns, and even much more when he saw your form hanging when closing his eyes. He didn’t want to close them ever again.
•
In the spread of the next days, he didn’t leave your side for more than the most important meetings; and had others watch you when gone. Anything else, Ayaka took over, even if she barely could work herself. It was clear he’s lost some of her trust, and that she was haunted by what you’ve done. The entire estate has been quiet too, with people acting as if they were mourning regardless you were alive — because you have died, in a way.
You were slowly waking up back to the reality, and he was still there, sadly. This time, any expression he’s shown you felt real and were real.
With your awakening, a certain thought followed you everywhere — if your state hasn’t ended up this bad, he’d still force you through his plans. You’d be miserable having children; but not enough for him to stop. You had to reach this point to hear an admission of his sins, and for him to realize he was so wrong.
“Thats it. You’re doing so well, my dear,” he praised as he fed you soup, with you sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his hand ahead of your face. You no longer had to fear your belly growing after the doctor told you you’ll never be able to have children, due to the damage your body had taken — no longer fertile, something you’d feel bad about for women who wanted children, and something you had to view differently for your specific case. You could only grow your fat and take back nutrition, but what then? What are you supposed to do for the rest of your life?
You ate the soup like a robot, not enjoying its taste, it helping you with your dehydrated tongue instead.
“Do you want to go the city soon? There’s a festival coming, and I know you must have missed attending these..” He frowned; seeing your head shake, having expected you to take on the rare chance. He sighed, but stayed patient. “I see. You must be still tired.”
“Do you want to lay down?” he asked when you ate more soup. When you nodded, he helped you to lower yourself to the futon, and placed your head on his lap. Ayaka has told him you like having your hair comb, once done by your favorite servant when you were a child, the only one you felt safe with, so he did the same for you. He wanted to cry again when seeing how thin and brittle your locks were, and he touched these with reverence. Hopefully, they will grow back soon.
Just, will you grow back again too? He knew there was some part of you he’ll never bring back, nonetheless, he’d take anything that resembled you.
“Ayato…” you finally asked, unable to let the question burden you further. “What about…”
“Yes?” he asked gently.
“The future of this clan? Do you resent me?”
His hand stopped between your strands. It’s been an answer he’s figured out already — only the delivery meant admitting his defeat and faults. “No, I don’t resent you. I don’t hide the fact I’m sad at the prospect of not having children ever, but I’d take that any day over losing you. And… Ayaka will be the one carrying the future of this clan and commission. She has expressed her feelings about motherhood to me, and she’ll looking for a suitable husband candidate soon. Though, I’m willing to give her some freedom in the choice, so she can pick someone she’s comfortable with.”
“I see…” You’ll seek out a shrine one day, wanting to pray she’ll never find a man like her brother.
“Then… what am I supposed to do myself?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, taking on the serious tone. You weren’t expecting to leave him, were you?
“I-I mean… am I supposed to… go back to our previous life? Just… waiting for you all day, not being able to leave, and meeting all these people?”
Ayato sighed. He was well aware you shouldn’t go through the same thing again; but he was also afraid at the idea of you flying away or hurting yourself by going outside. “We’ll figure out something for you to do. Perhaps you could help me with work? And… if you do well, I’ll try to make sure you have some fun after the hours too.”
“Can I leave on my own, then?” you asked hopefully, leaving him angry. He was afraid to crush your spirit again though, so made his words as delicate as possible, “No—I mean to say, not for now. Not because I want to restrict you, only because you need to get better first. After then… we shall return to this topic.”
With your understanding and unfortunate knowledge about him, you were quick to realize he might as well say no. “I want to know now!” you yelled. “I don’t want to wait for just to say no!”
Ayato’s hand tightened on the come, but he remembered he had to be patient with you. “I didnt say I’ll say no. If anything, it’s likely I’ll say yes.” Still no promise of saying yes, but you were baited upon your desperation.
“You promise?” you inquired quietly, scared of having the deal to be broken.
“Of course, my dear.”
•
When time has passed, Ayato’s words were proven to be right. However, to your despair, the sense of having lost something and someone that was you haven’t left, and you didn’t feel safe at your home you could never leave — the same old prison, now with gained privileges to paint the illusion of a choice and comfort.
Maybe Ayato didn’t touch when you didn’t want him to, excusing himself to the bathroom at random times of night; maybe he didn’t restrict you as much and kept you busy — all for there to be no way back to the happiness and stability from before the marriage.
He was still the same person who could never earn your forgiveness, no matter how punished and how opulently he’d repent… and you wouldn’t even call it repenting, but making it up to you — repentance would come after years of reparations. He was still the same person who has done all of this to you.
So when you find yourself at the top of the rooftop, you didn’t hesitate to jump down. You’ve failed the first time, but the second time was meant to be successful, no matter if more painful.
Your entire body felt broken, was broken, and you blissfully didn’t feel any pain yet, too high on adrenaline. As you bled, you heard screams, people in the garden circling around you, too scared to touch your form and intensify the damage they’d be blamed for. You having to hear your husband’s cries once more was the last before you lost hearing.
•
You woke up in an unfamiliar room, seeing an unfamiliar man with blue hair and purple eyes, and face so gentle you could cry — maybe the look of this precious man could soothe aches in your body too.
He looked at you in relief, softer enough make you feel good when waking up, and had to force a smile on his face. “You… I don’t know what else I can do…” he held your hands to his forehead, lowering his face so you wouldn’t see his despair. You’ve tried to leave him again; this time barely escaping death.
However, you could have only asked and shake him with the brand of your words, “Who are you?”
His head whipped up, looking at you in shock, blinking thrice. “Pardon? What do you mean, you silly thing? I’m your—” Then it hit him. The doctor has mentioned this possibility after your head has been injured.
He cleared his throat, as he wiped his tears, now speaking in a tone happy and affectionate. “I’m your husband. You’ve got me so worried, when you were attacked. But don’t worry, I’ve always taken a good care of you, and I will carry my duty for the rest of our lives. I’ll help you with remembering.”
Perhaps the gods have blessed him for his hard work for Inazuma’s sake, or perhaps they wanted to see one more act of the entertaining play — but Ayato would take advantage of this blessing anyway, having been given a second chance to start over.
It seemed you indeed would be reborn in another life, with a difference you didn’t have to physically die for it.
And if it was his choice to not mess up this time and take what he thought he would never have — this time, simultaneously keeping the balance of taking and giving, feeding you with an illusion of you always have been wanting these things — he can make you both happy, and grab what he’s been wanting.
The trade truly fair, actually — at least, based on his beliefs always having crashed against yours.
Beliefs could be implemented into a blank canvas anyway.
Apologies if there were any mistakes or misspellings <3 I’m not best with proofreading longer stories, not with my attention span 💔
But yeah, Ayato’s back to being selfish — his love has just changed into more “fair” of transactional. Nonetheless, I doubt reader will ever have a chance to be happy, even if blissfully unaware due to being amnesiac (not to mention that body can remember trauma physically).
I’ve incorporated some of his voicelines as they were fitting; and I think this cruel man also likes order — there was another voiceline in imaginarium theatrum, with him being judgy about mondstadt’s archon letting people have complete freedom ahshsb
I also won’t lie, I’m terrified of pregnancies as hell… so this was pretty cathartic for me to write, though not a self-insert for myself — more of a depiction of tokophobia and how reader could act in such circumstances. I’m really often like “wait, women do it willingly?”, but I also feel very proud of them for being so strong <3
what about incest is attractive?! Like such a weird thing to romanticize, and get mad over when someone thinks that’s weird. How does an 18 year old know better than an 22 year old adult.
2087
germansingergirl
jbbartram-illu
titsay
janainaart
