genshin boys as cupids. / fluff, slightly suggestive in a couple / cw: tighnari… kinda drugging people?? / other: includes: what cupid are they, your relationship with each other, and what happens. (🏹) a/n: NO WAY I’M DONE I’M DONE I’M DONENSJSJSKSK this was supposed to be a Valentine’s Day post btw but stuff happened so now it’s a White Day post (would explain what it is here but my phone is lagging SO BAD RN) umm um i hope you guys like!! btw listen to shameless while reading it sets the tone | tagging: @aritsukemo @ananeuvii @karmamira @scaraobsession @thelustfaerie
IMAGINE… a land unknown to humans on the earth, is home to cupids. cupids of love, cupids of the fatui. they can come down in disguise to enact their jobs, and they can fly in the skies to aim at unsuspecting pairs.
in regards to cupids of love, many believe that their arrows work instantaneously without fail. while that may sometimes be the case (specifically with people who have built relationships with their significant other already), sometimes a little push is needed. perhaps to bring the pair closer, maybe because of conflicting reasons. that’s why cupids are able to transfigure into regular humans.
in regards to cupids of the fatui, their arrows cause the opposite effect of love, instead bringing hate to those shot by the dark tipped arrows. it quite literally forms a war between love and hate.
the archons of their world carry special golden tipped arrows, instilling love and immense desire into whoever they pierce automatically and immediately. those shot are drawn to whoever their desire is, and the urges that overpower the victims are seldom overcome. it’s very powerful, unlike what the usual cupids carry.
finally and most importantly, an unspoken rule is layered on top of all these cupids’ jobs. breaking this rule would be seen as forbidden, something sure to house dysfunction and a cupid’s loss of self.
and that is, having a romantic relationship with a human being is strictly prohibited.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
literally calculates the compatibility in his pairs. very much a perfectionist. he’s subtle with how he puts people together, too. he finds humans interesting, but unfortunately might see them akin to test subjects…
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you were a part of the knights of favonius. albedo acknowledged you, but you never became anything more than coworkers. that is, until he was instructed to matchmake you with someone. as per usual, he shot his pair: you and a knight you were close with. however, the arrow seemed to hardly work on you, you acted normally as if nothing had changed. perhaps you were just someone who hardly changed when infatuated, albedo concluded, so he went to verbally give you a push, only to find out that his previous theory was correct, the arrow simply hadn’t worked. it was odd, an error. so he began to accompany you frequently to find out why. he never expected to end up falling for you instead.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
“— and that is the story.”
albedo was speaking with kaeya, a coworker both as mortals and cupids, about his predicament.
“so, the arrow didn’t work. do you think the arrows are defective?” kaeya questions.
“perhaps. however, i believe it’s more likely that (name) likes someone else rather intensely, contracting the effects. there have been occasions of that, correct?”
“i believe so. say (name) does, in fact, like someone else. considering your newfound feelings…”
“… i won’t get in the way. cupids are not supposed to be with humans. it’s simply a phase, it will pass.” albedo responds, leaving out the fact that it’s been a long time coming since he grew to be aware of his feelings for you, hardly befitting for just a “phase.”
kaeya looks at albedo with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “i see. i suppose keeping an eye on (name) is the best thing you can do right now.”
the conversation ends as albedo enters his office and bids kaeya farewell.
albedo sighs, taking a few test tubes and containers from his shelves.
“do you like anyone?”
that was a question albedo’s been asking you the entire past week. you always avoided the question, or stated that you did but refused to tell him who. so, albedo constructed a plan.
he was going to be working with you today under the guise of the effects of a new potion he concocted.
he tips the contents of a test tube into another container, the pink liquid inside slowly sliding down.
in actuality, despite his own conscience telling him off, he was going to be giving you a sort of truth potion to get his answer, an idea he received from another fellow cupid, lisa.
he was still conflicted with what he’d do upon hearing your answer. but he’d decided a long time ago that his own feelings should never interfere with his job, and he felt that that ethic shouldn’t cease now.
he hears a light rap on the door.
“come in,” he calls out.
you enter quickly, seeing albedo swirling a slightly translucent thick pink substance. you’re quick to join his side, albedo handing you the vial.
“thank you for assisting me with this.”
you smile brightly at him, “it’s no problem! so, i just drink this?”
albedo nods. “perhaps you should sit down first. here, let me bring you a chair.”
you watch as he grabs the chair from his desk, pulling it near the lab table as he sits across from you. you take a seat.
“alright, go ahead.”
you carefully place the vial against your lips, letting the potion slowly go down your throat. you notice its harsh sweetness straight away, making you wince slightly.
when half is finished, albedo asks a question. “what do you taste?”
you lower the tube. your tongue feels looser in a way, and your mind is a tad foggy.
“it’s… incredibly sweet,” you start. your voice is a little croaky, no doubt from the potion, but you manage to recall the homeliness you first recognized upon the concoction hitting your tastebuds and manage to relay it to your partner.
“i see…” albedo mutters, scribbling something down before continuing his thought. “you may continue.”
you start to drink again, draining the vial of its contents as albedo simply observes. once you’re done, albedo asks another question.
“(name), do you like anyone?”
you pause for a second, your line of thinking immensely unclear but your mouth ready to speak without your mind catching up.
“well, i like many people, like—”
“apologies. let me make my question clearer.”
you feel a sudden sense of dread.
albedo scribbles something down again. “do you like anyone immensely, in the other sense, or perhaps, love?”
if you weren’t so horrified at your sudden realization of what you possibly could’ve drunken, you would’ve spent a bit laughing at the way he worded his question.
“i do.” your throat feels drier than before.
“who?” he asks oh-so-innocently.
“… someone.”
“what is their name?”
you find yourself looking into albedo’s eyes and expect to find his usual calculating look. instead… you see a certain gentleness you’ve never seen before.
maybe that’s what pushed you to stay in your seat, to not run away to the door to prevent you from answering his question. the words were on the tip of your tongue, and without any thought, you open your mouth to let them out.
“his name is albedo.”
you avert your gaze upon seeing the way his lips part just a bit, eyes widened as he freezes.
it stays silent, and you suddenly feel like crawling into a hole and dying.
“are… you telling the truth?” he manages to get out.
you huff in faux annoyance. “i think you know your potion’s not faulty.”
his expression relaxes a little as he mutters an apology, but he still looks conflicted.
“it’s… okay if you don’t feel the same,” you say within the silence. “i… i’ll be going now.”
“no,” albedo finds himself grabbing your hand before immediately letting it go. “i still require your help.”
before you can ask, he takes a separate vial of the same potion you consumed before and downs it fully.
“albedo?”
he sighs, setting the now empty tube on the table. “ask me if i love anyone.”
you breathlessly chuckle before complying. “albedo, do you love anyone?”
he replies instantly. “i do. (name), i love you.”
“are you telling the truth?” you tease.
he places a hand over yours and tugs it close to his chest. it happens suddenly, your lips on his as you feel him inhale a little sharply, the way his hands curl with yours and the way he chases for more when you break away.
“‘bedo,” you breathe out.
he nods, and you feel your heart squeeze at the look he’s giving you in that moment.
“i love you, too.”
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
thinks the whole matchmaking business is trivial. he only agreed because agreeing meant being able to spend his time down in the world as a regular, humble human. he doesn’t like interacting with his subjects, he’d much rather play behind the scenes.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
simply library buddies. you’d see him here and there, nose in a book and noise cancellers deep in his ears, and you kept to yourself. you did eventually speak to each other, when alhaitham was searching intensively for a book you were reading at the time. you sparked some light conversation, and the two of you got along better than you’d expected. it wasn’t a dramatic way of meeting, and the way your relationship grew was subtle; and that’s why alhaitham liked it, liked you. you were sensible, a person he could talk to for hours without getting a hint of a migraine. he even revealed his status as a cupid, albeit because of your confrontation as to why he seemed so interested in setting up two of your colleagues together. yes, his logical mind calls him out, but for once he doesn’t want to listen.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it was late, near the closing of the library you were close to passing out in. you had to be there, though. the exam you had tomorrow was promised to be tough. sure, you felt decently ready, but the thought of being underprepared had you wide awake. unused time is wasted time, you think.
you see a shadow loom over you from behind, the sudden presence making you jump slightly. a familiar hand comes to shut your book, taking it as you whip your head around.
“what are you still doing here?”
it’s alhaitham. arms crossed, stern expression, towering over you. even with the limited light illuminating the cozy area you’ve inhabited for the past couple hours, you can see him clearly.
you rub your eyes, blinking harshly as you respond.
“… studying.”
“it won’t do you any good if you can barely keep your eyes from closing.”
you shrug, too tired to argue. gathering your things into their bag, you slowly stand, the world blurring around you as you take your hands off the table.
alhaitham places a gentle hand on your upper back, guiding you firmly to the library exit. the air that hits you is refreshing, to say the least.
“what time were you planning on leaving?”
you give a slight grimace. “i… wasn’t keeping track. i remembered to eat something, though…”
alhaitham gives a curt nod. “will you be able to walk home?”
“i… think so? i mean, i’m tired, but…”
“get on my back, then. i’ll carry you.”
you look up at him. “wait, really?”
he turns so his back is facing you. “it would be a hassle if you were to faint due to your exhaustion.”
you get on his back, his hands protectively holding your legs as you wrap your arms securely around him.
he glances over his shoulder to look at you. “i’ll be transporting you aerially in order for you to arrive home in a shorter span of time.”
before you can reply, alhaitham begins to glow. the warmth from the luminance seeps to your bones and envelops you wholly in a comforting embrace.
you can feel the feathers of his wings begin to appear as they grow to their original state, appearing in their full glory as you try not to get in the way.
even with the change, you’re still able to recognize him. always. it’s alhaitham, no matter what form or appearance he takes on.
he flaps his wings once, twice, and takes off up into the night, full of stars waiting to surround you with their own glows.
you feel yourself smile. “thank you. you… really didn’t have to do this.”
he lightly squeezes the part of your legs he’s holding, maybe to convey some of the emotions he wants to share with you, in his own way. the breeze softly flowing against you both slightly ruffles his hair, and you almost want to reach out and take a hold of it.
“just the opposite,” he replies.
maybe it was the lack of sleep you were currently affected by, or the fairytale like moon shining upon its realm. whatever the case, you lean down slightly to brush your lips against the back of his neck.
you observe alhaitham’s slight tensing and the small shiver that seems to vibrate through him, all the way to the tips of his wings.
he looks over at you and says your name, still sounding as unaffected as always.
“if you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.”
“i thought it was forbidden for cupids to be in a relationship with humans?” you tease, leaning close to him anyways despite your heart warning you, beating uncontrollably against your will.
all it takes is him closing the gap between you for you and him to meet.
alhaitham was truly right, to love would be a distraction, a hindrance for many.
but if you asked him in that moment, when all that exists is a small bubble of you and him intertwined with the stars and constellations around, perhaps he’d share a different view.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
hectic. breaks couples up, yearns for the chaos it brings, instigates, gaslights, pushes, plays. wherever there’s a messy breakup, there’s a childe.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
he knew you long before you knew him. and during that time, he’d grown… attracted. so he came down, befriended you. mayyybe broke you up with your boyfriend. but he can’t say he regrets it when your relationship has grown so far now!
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
you found out that he had fabricated those photos— the incriminating photos that contributed to your break up. and you found out what he said to your boyfriend so long ago to make you sound unlikable, another addition.
“childe, don’t lie to me,” you warn. “i know you did and said those things, there’s no point in saying otherwise.”
you watch him battle with his emotions.
“… i’m sorry.” childe says.
“and?”
he takes your hands, kicked puppy face expression plastered on as he tries to apologize.
“please forgive me?”
you don’t.
“sorry won’t cut it, you know.”
you have half a mind to leave him where he stands, but a more empathetic part of you continues to reason, especially as he gets down on his knees to peer up at you through his hair.
your eyebrows raise, childe, despite his pride and status, is kneeling before you. even with the degrading position, he remains steadfast in both what he’s doing and how he looks.
“how can i make it up to you?” he asks, genuine and sincere.
he’s pretty like this, you think. but if he thinks he can get away just by that alone, he’s sorely mistaken.
“it’s not that easy,” you say, trying to make your voice come off as more serious instead of your slightly disappointed tone. “you haven’t even given me a valid reason as to why you did all this in the first place, so why should i forgive you?”
that silences him.
he stares into your eyes, different from how he was before. it’s earnest, unlike his usual playful demeanor.
he begins to emit a luminary glow, the warmth omitted traveling up your arms from his hands.
two wings flap from his back, feathers fluttering down from the movement as the appendages wrap around your legs.
you stare in awfully hidden awe.
“… childe?”
he buries his head into your hands, as if bowing to you. “i’m a part of the fatui. you know them, right?”
you let his hair sink through your fingers, softly curling into the strands as you wait for him to continue.
“… i… was jealous. i didn’t like seeing you with him. cupids, even ones like me, aren’t even allowed to be with humans. but i…”
“childe—”
“ajax,” he says.
“… ajax… look at me?” you tilt his head up, cupping his face as his eyes dart to yours.
you kneel with him, childe’s wings moving to envelop your body instinctively.
“you said… cupids… aren’t allowed to be with humans?”
he nods. “i don’t care, though. i’ve already decided, i want to be with you. i’m sorry.”
prohibited, forbidden, none of it matters as you inch his face closer.
“prove it.”
that’s all it takes as his arms immediately encircle you, kissing you so sweetly you think you’re seeing stars, as if he’s trying to erase the memory of him, to etch himself onto your lips forevermore.
and when you separate, all he whispers is,
“i’m so glad i broke you two up.”
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
best known for his prosecution upon those he finds being disloyal to their partners. kinda bad at the whole matchmaking thing due to his intimidating presence and odd use of jokes, so he usually asks others (tighnari) to confirm and help his pairs get together.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you live in gandharva ville and often go on expeditions to the desert for your research. being friends with tighnari, he refuses to ever let you wander into those vast lands alone, so he summons his good friend cyno anytime you decide to go. he was rather intimidating at first, but as he protected you from dangers time and time again, a trusting friendship was formed with cyno. it strengthened even more when he caught and dealt with your former cheating boyfriend. sometimes cyno wishes he could choke down his own feelings for you as easily as he choked that guy out.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it was supposed to be a four-day expedition in the desert to go examine some ancient runes, simple and easy enough. however…
“we should be safe in here.”
you rush into the cave’s entrance, quickly running far away from the outside desert, sputtering sand as you try dusting yourself off.
cyno comes close behind, only coughing a little and being a lot more calm about the situation. you guess it makes sense, he’s probably been through sandstorms much worse than this one.
“are you okay?” cyno asks.
you cough before replying, “yep, absolutely.”
cyno places a hand on your back, the sudden touch making you slightly jolt. “let’s go further in, i recognize this cave.”
you nod, letting cyno walk you forward as the taste of sand still lingers in your mouth.
you go deeper in, ending at the mostly flat grounds of the cave far away from the storm outside.
cyno’s able to light a small fire in the cave using stones and some wood you brought along as you lay your supplies out and take stock. thankfully, you have enough food to last a couple days. you give cyno some rations and munch down on some yourself, thankful for the replacement of the sand on your tongue.
after, you get out a brush specifically for brushing off sand and call cyno over.
“let me help you get all the sand off,” you say, gesturing for him to sit in front of the fire.
he obliges and you get to work, hearing cyno sigh at the feeling of your hands carding through his hair. you check and check, making sure you don’t miss a speck.
“i won’t have time to help you if you spend all night focusing on me,” cyno chides.
you playfully huff before handing him the brush, switching positions as he starts brushing through your hair. you notice he keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, the action leaving you a little warm.
he’s done a lot quicker, much to your dismay.
cyno stands first. “we should head to sleep. we’ll need our energy for tomorrow.”
you agree, feeling the exhaustion catching up and seeping through your bones. you hope that the beds you laid out earlier are still comfortable despite the cave floor.
you climb in next to cyno’s, a small shiver leaving you at the damp feeling.
of course, he notices.
he clears his throat, not meeting your eyes as he speaks. “if you get cold… if you’re comfortable… we can share a bed tonight.”
you feel warmth cover your heart, the only part of you staying at a good temperature, as you watch this bashful side of him make the offer.
you give a small smile. “i think we’ll have to.”
he wraps a hand around yours, slightly tugging it towards him as you take the hint. you lie down the same time he does, both of you taking the other in an embrace to share body heat as your main goal and to bring a comfort closer as the second.
his hand is loose around the back of your head, hand curled in your hair as you’re tucked into his neck, legs entangled in an intimate situation you’re sure most coworkers nor friends don’t share.
“goodnight, cyno,” you say, subconsciously holding him a little tighter.
“… goodnight, (name),” he murmurs quietly, doing the same to you as he’s reminded of what exactly he’s doing.
you can hear his heart beating fast. despite the way your face starts to warm even more, a shiver still runs through your spine.
“you’re still cold?” cyno asks, his voice unwavering and alert despite getting ready to go to sleep. you wonder how he’s not freezing, considering the way he’s dressed.
“a-a little,” you lie, “i’m fine.”
he’s quiet for a little; thinking, brooding over a solution. his face is slightly scrunched, you find it cute.
“close your eyes.”
you look at him, your expression a little puzzled as he waits. you decide to follow through and allow your eyes to shut, feeling cyno bring your head to rest into him. he keeps a protective hand there as you try not to breathe too heavily or too shallowly, the position he’s put you in being a bit flustering.
your eyelids block the sudden glow you presume comes from cyno, but you can feel the sudden warmth nonetheless. something akin to a heavy blanket is draped over you, and the immediate effect is felt.
the once frigid temperature transfigured into weather you could find during a pleasant warm day, the instant difference making you relax in cyno’s hold as he stays soundless.
you snap your eyes open and try moving your head to see what just happened— especially since you’re curious about the glow that’s still apparent— but cyno gently forces your head back and speaks before you can question him.
“get some rest, you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.”
his words, despite the buzzing of your head, sends the coziness in your brain and the heaviness of your eyes to lull you to sleep stronger than you can get yourself out of.
the last thing that gets you to the slumber you need is the small peck on the top of your head, the sudden affection from cyno being the last you feel, setting flames searing throughout your limbs…
“i… love you.”
… and the only clue you have as to what happened is the feather you see fall into your line of sight before your eyes close once again.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
very new to this job. in fact, he’s still under an apprenticeship. but he’s getting the hang of things with the occasional mishap here and there. often takes harder jobs without realizing it and actually succeeds with the help of his teacher.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you met through wanderer, who was a friend of yours. at first, it was simply platonic. simple adventures together, picnics, nights under the stars; just the three of you. you traveled mostly to areas where wanderer and durin could do their jobs of cupids (unknown to you). you and durin grew close, him not realizing how close until things changed when you and durin first spent a night underneath the stars together, alone. talking, giggling about this and that, and the sudden realization came being, underneath the scattered lights above, you shone so beautifully. and that had durin panicking, heart leaping and mind boggled with what he was going to do.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
“you like (name)?”
durin timidly gives a nod, waiting for the reprimanding. but surprisingly…
wanderer sighs, “… okay, and?”
“… isn’t that not allowed?”
“it’s… well, it’s… not. technically, you’re not a cupid yet. you’re still under apprenticeship,” he crosses his arms. “besides, the rule’s stupid anyways.”
“you think so? do you think i’ll still be able to become a cupid?” durin’s eyes shine again with hope.
before wanderer can answer, they hear your voice call out to them, both heads turning in that direction as they see you coming down the hill. you found a place to set the tents up.
it turns late, the sun setting as both durin and wanderer pitch the tents and help with the supplies you need for cooking. durin can smell the meat you hunted from earlier steaming in the pot, joining your side as he peeks in.
“your favorite,” you state, “here.”
you grab a plate and fill it for him with the dish, giving it to him as he looks at you with stars in his eyes.
and even after you call wanderer over, even after dinner, even after you’re done cleaning; he finds himself staring at you when nothing else is more interesting. always with stars in his eyes, always accentuated. wanderer has to elbow him on countless occasions to focus, but it’s hard when you’re so entrancing.
eventually, wanderer gets up. “i’m going to my tent, goodnight.”
durin’s heart jumps at the fact that you’re now alone together, saying goodnight back a little too ecstatically.
“there’s a clearing a little ways from here with a good look at the stars, wanna go?” you ask.
durin nods eagerly.
the clearing is beautiful, the sky fully expansive with the glowing stars running through the atmospheric darkness. it feels like a dream, a dream alike the first time durin realized he loved you under the stars.
durin sits close to you, flowers he picked up along the way bunched up in his hands as he gives you a timid smile, handing them over carefully as if he’s handing his own heart.
“for me?” you take them with a smile, “thank you, i love them!”
he feels his more animated draconic parts becoming twitchy out of nervousness. “i… i have something to tell you.”
you turn your body to fully face him. “go ahead.”
durin takes a breath.
he begins to glow, illuminating the night enveloping you as his usual wings become feathery and starkly white, the small appendages flapping a few before settling against his back. a warm luminosity lingers around the dragon as he shyly peeks up at you.
“surprise?” he whispers.
“you’re…” you pause, reaching out instinctively to his wings.
he lets you run a finger over the coverts, the limbs stretching closer to you as you look on in awe.
“i’m a cupid. well, an apprentice! and, um…” durin takes a moment to sigh out at the feeling of your featherlight touch over the base of his wings. “… and… i really, really like you. but there’s a rule for cupids, that we can’t have romantic relationships with humans, but— mmp!”
you press your lips against his, muffling his next words as he freezes, unsure what to do but keenly aware that you were kissing him.
when you pull away, you smile sheepishly. “… sorry.”
he rushes to assure you, “no, no! i-i enjoyed it! i was just… caught off guard, is all.”
you cup his face, feeling the warmth emanating from the skin as you hear him swallow.
“for the record, i really like you back, but if the rule…”
durin shakes his head rapidly. “i’m not a cupid yet. and even if i do become one…”
he hesitantly covers your hands with his own, wings fluttering and wrapping around himself.
“… i don’t think i’d be able to give you up. i’m still a dragon, and dragons are known to be greedy, especially with things like treasures. and you’re a treasure that i wouldn’t trade the world for.”
he bashfully hides his face against your palm.
the surprisingly heartfelt confession has you dipping down, kissing the top of his head to the side of his lips, kissing him properly when he emerges from your hand.
it’s like he always dreamt of. you and him under the stars again, truly, truly together, starstruck eyes staring into yours.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
he’s rather calming; his polite, courteous personality winning people over. he tells stories to cover up his true identities, stories of the winged babe version of cupid many people have grown accustomed to. he also helps spirits find their lost loved ones.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you like walking in the graveyard at night, or so you tell him, visiting the souls that have moved on and the dark ambience it exudes. flins began accompanying you after he found out, and a comforting routine was formed. he enjoys the late nights talks and your presence in general, it makes him feel… more human. he wonders if you can feel the tension that he’s drowning in from late evening to midnight.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
you arrived early to the cemetery. you preoccupy yourself with searching for flins through the graves, through the fields— obviously to no avail.
“maybe i should just go to the meeting place,”you conclude.
it was gloomy, deeply atmospheric per usual. as always, you pay no mind, the knowledge that flins is around making the rather dark environment dissipate despite the keeper’s own appearance he gives off.
you hear a bristling over to the side, making you stop momentarily. a small grove blocks a small amount of vision, but you can clearly make out flins far beyond.
you make your way through the trees, landing upon a sight you could only describe as ethereal.
there was flins, transformed into his winged body, avian limbs stretched out behind him with his hand combing through the feathers. with an unbothered look painted on his face, he turns to you.
“(name), you’re rather early.”
you don’t look at him, a bit flustered from the view. “i am… um… what are you doing?”
flins smiles and you shiver.
“i suppose i’d describe it as… preening. i could use some help, if you’d like.” he says, a bit too smoothly, like he expected you to come. you feel as if every movement of yours is being scrutinized.
“if… you’re okay with it.” you say, a little bashful as you make your way over, seated in front of him as he keeps that same pleasant smile that makes your stomach flip over.
he flexes his wings out, slowly bringing them around you like an offering.
you reach out to the one on the right, slowly tracing down the curve, flins sighing out at the contact.
you reach down to a group of rustled feathers, running your fingers through the soft appendages as the man in front of you shuffles closer, his wing leaning into the touch.
you feel the ends of his wings at the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him. the intimacy is not lost on you, the way his eyes are peering into yours and how his hands have found purchase against your biceps.
he rests his head against your neck, making you tense at the sudden contact.
“my apologies. are you uncomfortable?” flins asks. you have the suspicion, however, that he already knows your response.
“no, no… just surprised is all.” you reply, distracting yourself by carding through both his wings now and feeling his feathers individually flutter at the welcome intrusion.
you remember him saying before that having a relationship with a cupid was forbidden.
so what was this, then?
maybe he was playing with you, toying with you because he knows how badly he affects you. perhaps he knows that he’s in the forefront of your mind constantly, that you stopped walking through the cemetery for the place itself and now walk for the guide.
but you refuse to believe that, refuse to believe that the kind person who divulged his secret to you would hurt you like that.
because maybe, just maybe, he’s doing this for the same reason you’re complying.
“you’re beautiful,” you hear flins say, finding him staring at you again.
“do you really believe so?”
how had this happened?
he nods, “i do.”
he bristles as you brush over a sensitive spot, making you rub circles over the area, just to get another reaction from him.
in response, he kisses you. almost. barely brushing his lips against yours, you feel him smile mischievously before trailing down to kiss your jaw, down to your neck.
with a sudden burst of confidence, you tangle a hand in his hair, tugging at the strands just enough to meet his lips again, swallowing his sharp intake of air. you relish in the reaction he gave, kissing him fully as he melts into the embrace.
his wings hug you, flins sighing into the kiss as you run a hand over that same spot from earlier, his own hands moving to take place at your waist.
yes, he’s doing this for the same reason you are.
forbidden, yes, but love all the same.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
extremely analytical. dissects a pair before shooting and sometimes adds some spice into them, like a criminal and a detective together. that’s bound to cause some mayhem, but it’s just how he likes it.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you are that criminal, and he is that detective. he’s basically hurting himself twice over, first as a detective being in love with a person he’s supposed to throw in jail, and second as a cupid being in love with a human. you found out about him being a cupid, and that was because maybe he’s more comfortable with you than he’s ready to admit. despite it all, interacting with you is entertaining, so the best he can give is a cat and mouse chase with very, very tense and ignored attraction between both parties.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it was late into the night, a time heizou should be in bed, but instead he’s up chasing a clue an anonymous person mailed him about your whereabouts.
to be inconspicuous, he’s flying around in the sky invisible to the naked eye. he has a hunch on who sent him the direction, and that has him soaring faster.
he slows to a stop at the aforementioned destination, diving down and gracefully touching the ground beneath him as he sees you pacing around, willing himself to be visible right behind you. his hands place themselves on your shoulders as he whispers into your ear,
“miss me?”
you jump, elbowing him fast and direct in the side as a response. he yelps out as he backs away, clearly facing you as you turn.
“i thought i warned you to stop doing that?” you say with faux annoyance, a smile still finding its way onto your face.
he rubs the area you hit him before fluffing his wings and gifting you a plethora of feathers in your face.
“ugh, heizou! you little—!!” you pause your frantic actions of swatting away the feathers he bestowed as he reaches a hand to the top of your head, brushing some off that were stuck in your hair. your words are caught in your throat, the sudden gentle action catching you off guard.
his hand trails down to the side of your face, resting there as his thumb begins tracing patterns like an instinct.
“something’s on your mind.”
you hate how perceiving he can be sometimes, reading you perfectly without any hesitation or doubt. he’s too cocky with this skill of his, you think.
you simply shake your head no, which obviously doesn’t suffice.
“your brows are a bit furrowed, your quips are less frequent and unenthusiastic, and you haven’t done any of your trademark taunting,” heizou claims, “what’s wrong?”
you can’t help the warming of your face as you look away from his piercing eyes.
“you said before that cupids are prohibited from having a romantic relationship with human beings, right?”
heizou nods, “correct.”
“so why do you keep looking for me?”
it’s his turn to pause, and you can predict what he’s about to say.
“well, as a reminder, i am a detective. and you are a criminal, technically, even if your motives are far from malicious, but—”
“heizou,” you cut him off, “you know what i mean.”
he smiles coolly, guiding you to look at him again. “because a little thief stole my heart, and i need to get it back.”
you roll your eyes despite the understood meaning behind his words. “that’s really cheesy.”
“i don’t think you really mind,” he says, squeezing your face a little to press his point.
you grumble a small “shut up,” before seriously asking, “but… why, though? you know it’s prohibited, at least, you made it sound like a really strict rule… so why break it, you of all people?”
you feel his other hand come to squeeze your bicep lightly, “i sometimes wonder that myself. i guess the idea of the forbidden truly does attract people.”
he’s closer than before, you notice. you almost feel like pulling away for his sake, to save him the consequences or the regret. to save yourself from the embarrassment from when he’ll eventually recollect his senses, this whole chase stopping forever.
you make up your mind and let him softly kiss you.
you can feel the passion behind it. it sparks a thought of the finality of his actions. maybe it’s his way of saying goodbye, to end this. for the both of you.
he tugs you closer, deepening the kiss as you run a hand through his hair. if this is the last you’ll ever get to see of him…
he pulls away a little suddenly, looking into your eyes.
“i know what you’re thinking.”
you smile somewhat bittersweetly. “of course you do.”
he smiles back; his more confident, more sure. leaning in, you think he’s about to kiss you again…
you hear a click of metal around your wrist.
“… i’m not going anywhere. you, however!”
you scoff at the handcuff now trapping you to him, your expression now turning sly. “really, heizou…”
you push him to the ground.
“hey!—”
you dip down to his ear, whispering something simple.
“you wish.”
and you slip out of the cuffs, beginning the chase once again.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
swings and misses and forms accidental couples. but sometimes these accidental couples can turn out to be accidental greatness, because sometimes even the most dysfunctional pairings at eye view can turn out to be the most suited together.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
it all started when he shot you by accident and started rolling with the idea, only for you to wonder why this random stranger was badgering you to go for another stranger who you’ve only seen when you go on shopping trips that you find mildly attractive. cue itto revealing through stumbled, irrational, quick fire words to save face that he’s a cupid and not some weirdo at all. odd way to start a relationship for sure. you didn’t quite believe that a guy like him could be a cupid, so from that day on itto persistently brought you along his missions in order to prove it, inadvertently digging a hole for himself as he began truly talking to you and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. so despite your start, you have a tight-knit relationship, something itto desperately wants to change into something more.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
“itto… are you sure about this?” you glance down the cliff. you’re so far up that it makes your breathing somewhat shallow.
“of course!” he laughs boisterously. “trust me, i’ve got the largest wings out of all the cupids, this’ll be a piece o’ cake!”
he swiftly picks you up bridal style as you yelp.
and without being able to think things over, he jumps.
clinging onto him for dear life, you scream as loud as humanly possible as the drop yanks your breath away. even from beneath your eyelids you can see the light, apart from the glow emitting from itto.
when you actually think you’re about to faint, itto flaps his wings midway through the drop and starts flying in place— a chance to catch your breath before he zooms straight ahead through the skies.
“itto!” you yelp.
you hug him as tightly as you’re able to without going limp, vaguely thinking about how you’re able to feel his muscular build so distinctly.
“c’mon! take a look at the view!” itto yells over the winds.
you let yourself take a small peek at the view when you get over the feeling of retching, focusing on the sound of itto’s laughter as you shakily move.
the view is stunning.
the mountains stretched out below connected to the plains adorned with stretches of forest and wildlife, the pristine waters running through the landscape and flowing endlessly. if your face weren’t so numb, your jaw would be dropped.
itto stops, flying easily in the sky as he holds you protectively in a static movement.
you inhale deeply. you’re still so high up, but now that you’re not speeding through the skies…
you look up at itto. he’s staring deeply at you, seemingly lost in thought. you want to smile at how serious he looks in the moment, the emotion hardly befitting for someone like him.
he opens his mouth only to shut it immediately after.
“is something wrong?” you ask.
“i really want to kiss you right now.” itto blurts.
your eyes widen.
“i, i mean, i really want to… miss… pi…di… diss! your hair is a mess. i mean, you still look good, though… wait…”
you cut him off with a small laugh. “… even now, you’re not too good at this cupid thing, are you?”
“wha— of course i am! i’m great—”
you shake your head in tired disbelief. “you… kind of… confessed to me.”
“so?”
“that’s… isn’t that not allowed?”
“huh, says who?” itto says, confidence exuding as he speaks loudly even though you’re the only one listening. “i dunno if you’ve noticed, but i’m kind of a big deal— i don’t listen to any rules except for the rules i give to myself. except for you, and shinobu i s’ppose… and—”
you roll your eyes and kiss him, cutting off his yelp as he (thankfully) holds you tighter. despite his shakiness, he holds you with a death grip, refusing to drop you even with his excitement, eventually kissing you back.
when you separate, you take note of his flushed face.
a gigantic smile grows on his face, the giddiness apparent in his voice. “i— you just, we just!”
you smile back, albeit shakily. “we did— please don’t drop me.”
“(name),” itto breathes, “you trust me, right?”
you nod, a bit out of it, maybe from the enveloping scenery, maybe from the sudden kiss, maybe from how high up you are. “i… do—! itto!!”
in an instant, he drops you suddenly to hold you by the waist, flipping you both upside down in the sky, the ground hundreds away now feeling a lot farther.
your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as they were before, the closeness not being lost on you.
“normal kisses are boring! let’s do something more… flamboyant!”
you find yourself laughing even with the precarious circumstances, and he dips back to your lips and holds you even closer.
it’s ironic. you feel safe, even as the ground seems so much farther away from your cloud nine.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
naturally charismatic and smooth talks his way into people’s hearts purely by accident before giving them to someone else. unfortunately, he’s off the table…
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
a thin line between ‘just friends’ and ‘in love’. outsiders see plenty of flirty banter, while you two see a wall. something that you can’t cross completely because crossing would mean never turning back, and that’s an idea kaeya cannot do because it’s prohibited. so he lets you come close, be in his space. but never beyond that line of friendship, even if he wishes you both could cross it.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
kaeya was feeling more troubled than usual.
perhaps it was because of yesterday when he almost kissed you when under the influence, maybe it was the way you lingered in his office in the morning.
he downs a shot, diluc glancing over at him as the captain signals for a refill.
just a few hours ago, kaeya launched one arrow into one of his subordinates and another one in you— perhaps one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make.
he gives a hefty sigh, hand on his forehead as he wonders if doing that was the right thing to do. on one hand, it’d be easier to keep himself and his feelings away from you, momentary pain would be better to feel now rather than in the long run. however…
… he dreaded having to witness the consequences of his actions. you flirting with that other knight. you coming to kaeya to change your patrols to be with that other knight. you clinging, kissing, maybe one day marrying—
“kaeya? hey, are you okay? don’t tell me you’re drunk…”
he whips his head around at the voice, and lo and behold, it’s you. thankfully, that other knight was nowhere to be seen.
you slide into the stool next to him, kaeya a little mesmerized, most definitely more than out of it. the sight of you acting normally does somewhat sober him, prompting him to offer a charming smile.
it quickly dissipates, however, upon the sight of that knight coming up. he taps your shoulder, diverting your attention from kaeya.
this is what was supposed to happen, right?
so, why does he feel like barging in on your moment?
kaeya forces himself to turn away, facing the counter as diluc comes into view.
“have you changed your mind?” diluc calmly says, quiet enough for only kaeya to hear as you’re busy with the knight.
“you know i can’t,” kaeya mutters, “as much as i’d like…”
he finds himself glancing over to you chatting happily, your companion’s face a little flushed.
diluc simply raises a brow, leaving to go tend to another matter in the tavern.
kaeya plasters on his usual, easygoing smile again as he faces you both, awaiting a break in conversation before interrupting.
“(name), feel free to order a drink on my tab. i hardly believe you came here only to talk.” he manages in an even tone, a small bite escaping near the end.
you chuckle a bit. “you’re going to have to pay that off someday, you know.”
kaeya laughs, even if he’s used to that tease you use more often than you realize. “not today, it seems. diluc appears to be in a rather good-spirited mood.”
at the mention of his name, diluc makes his way over. “what would you like tonight?”
kaeya thinks he’s doing pretty well. maybe it was the alcohol numbing his senses, helping him be able to get through tonight without reaching for the reversing solution— that would ‘reverse’ the affects of the arrow kaeya shot— just yet.
he risks a look at you and the knight again.
you’re a lot closer, he notes.
in fact… you look as if you’re about to kiss the guy.
and in that second, kaeya folds.
eyeing diluc rather pointedly, he gets the message across, earning an eye-rolling from diluc as he takes the special vial out, pouring the contents into your drink and then to the knight’s.
slamming the drinks on the counter and effectively interrupting your moment, diluc departs with a plain, “enjoy.”
as soon as you finish it, kaeya steps off from his seat and takes your hand gently.
“it’s getting late, wouldn’t want you getting wasted without anyone to take you home. shall we leave?”
he’ll apologize eventually, he’ll tell you everything eventually.
but for now, he’s taking you home.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
probably the best (not biased) cupid you could have by your side. everything comes easily with him and how he guides his pairs together, he’s a natural. the only problem he has is how lonely it makes him feel sometimes… but perhaps that’s why he works so hard to bring people together.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you met on the alcor, and ever since then you’ve created a routine of meeting him either late at night or in the wee hours of the morning up in the crow’s nest. it’s easy to confide in you and to carry conversations throughout the hours, and you grew to be sealed in a special place in his heart. maybe too special.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
the breeze flies through the party on the alcor’s deck, people drunk out of their minds as a new day approaches.
you hear kazuha hiccup, drunk and draped over your back as you trudge to his room.
“where are we going?” you hear him slur quietly, nuzzling into your shoulder.
“your room,” you stop in front of his door, struggling to open it with kazuha hugging you so tightly, but eventually manage.
you walk in and shut the door behind you. you notice there’s more papers scattered about, likely an assortment of abandoned poems. his small snores catch your attention.
you lightly nudge your head against his. “kazuha, wake up for a bit, please.”
his eyes flutter open after a few as you back up into his bed, waiting for him to get the message. he seems to understand and falls back, but not without grasping onto your shirt.
you gently remove his fingers, turning around to face him. he’s sitting, staring up at you like you’re the multitude of stars he finds himself admiring every night, no matter how many times he’s done so.
“are you,” kazuha hiccups, “leaving?”
“i… am,” you (hesitantly) affirm, “i’m pretty tired…”
kazuha squeezes your hand. “then, stay? we can sleep together.”
you feel heat creeping up your neck. “you mean… sleep in the same bed, right? not… nevermind.”
you recognize the feelings inside you wanting to stay, but your rational mind warns you that by doing so would mean having to deal with the situation in the morning, with him sober.
you glance away for a second, from the kazuha before you that’s vulnerable and appearing ready to spout something out but unable to, this side of him you rarely get to see.
you find yourself sitting next to him, holding a hand of his as you speak softly. “i… don’t think i should. but i can stay until you fall asleep.”
you catch him staring at you with that expression again. “more?”
“more?…”
“can you stay more?” his words are a little mushed but still so yearning, prompting a smile to appear on your face.
you shut your eyes and sigh, “i guess i could…”
when you look at him again, he seems closer than before.
he utters your name so reverently, “i…”
a serious expression replaced the wanting features he wore before, like a sobering sense of reality finally sunk in.
“‘m sorry.” he simply says.
“for?…” you say in return.
it’s quiet. he seems to ponder something, shakes his head, and lies properly on the bed, tugging you down with him.
it’s warm, sharing a bed with someone else. especially when that someone tucks you under his head, holding you close like you’ll disappear from him too.
“…goodnight.” he whispers, his voice the clearest you’ve heard since you found him drunk, draped over a table and half-asleep.
“goodnight,” you return, wondering why his behavior seemed so final.
you’re not able to ask as he quickly falls to slumber.
morning arrives fast, considering it was in the early hours of the morning when you fell asleep.
kazuha’s up first. he opens his eyes, wincing at the memories flooding in from last night. his head hurts, a dull pounding scattering his concentration. he registers that someone’s in his arms.
he can feel his face start to warm as he remembers.
he remembers wanting to kiss you. he remembers how dangerously close he was to confessing. he remembers how he wanted to confess everything— how he felt, his job as a cupid, how he wanted to be with you so badly it hurt his heart whenever he thought of you.
kazuha intakes a large breath of air, slowly letting it out as he recollects his thoughts.
even with his conflicting thoughts, he finds himself holding you tighter, before pulling away slowly. you stir in your sleep, eyes opening as you see kazuha standing next to the bed.
you feel like panicking, even as he apologizes for waking you up. he seems so far away, even though he’s so physically near.
you sit up, staring at the man before you.
“i apologize for my actions in my drunken state. were you uncomfortable?” he asks sheepishly.
you shake your head no, wondering if you should address how distant he seems. instead, you find yourself cupping his face in a daze.
“(name)?…” kazuha says quietly, his voice light as he covers your hands with his own.
he had enough time to back away, to state that he didn’t like what you were doing, just to save himself from these feelings he created— but instead, as you lean closer to him, he gracefully accepts your lips on his.
it’s soft, something so warming with passion along unspoken words to each other. it ends too soon, kazuha pulling away with an even softer look in his eyes.
“please don’t leave.” you say before you can think.
kazuha’s torn. you know something’s up, you know him so well from the time you’ve known each other.
he could very well lose his title of cupid and his own being. his mind berates him with these words, but in the end his heart makes the decision.
he gently kisses you again.
he will stay.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
tactical, cool headed and takes his time when pairing those he thinks are fit together. a stark contrast to ajaw who’s far from the not so easily swayed demeanor kinich exudes, instead opting for hotheadedness and irrational decisions.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
it took a long while to crack through his exterior, to cross that bridge from being just another friend to something deeper, dangerous. you’ve had too many close encounters like that, too near what was considered prohibited. moments where proximities tested patience, moments where your lips are so close a simple movement would join them together (mostly because of ajaw who “doesn’t believe in the rule”)— it all serves as a reminder. a reminder that when it comes to you, he’ll do anything, as weak as it makes him out to be.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
“KINICH! are you paying attention?! did you hear ANYTHING i just said?!”
kinich sighs, “be quiet, ajaw.”
“you’re thinking of (NAME) again, AREN’T YOU? how PATHETIC! KINICH, ogling over a HUMAN! if the rule weren’t so STUPID, i’d tell the ARCHONS!” ajaw fulminates.
kinich looks over. “no, the reason why you haven’t told them is because if you did, we both wouldn’t be able to see (name) ever again. i know you like them too.”
ajaw huffs. “WELL, UNLIKE YOU, I WOULD CONFESS IF I WERE THAT DEEPLY IN LOVE!”
kinich tunes him out with the rest of his insults along the lines of “YOU COWARD!!” and “YOU’RE BLIND IF YOU…” echoing in his ears.
he wonders what you’re doing right now. he wishes you were with him instead of his current partner, but maybe some separation would do him some help considering…
“— EVEN THE GOLDEN ARROWS OF THE ARCHONS WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO OVERCOME YOUR COWARDICE!!”
kinich slaps ajaw away, the dragon flying away into the sky with aggravated yelling.
though, the dragon’s last words still replayed across his mind…
… especially as a lustrous arrow-like weapon hits him a few moments later.
it’s dark out when you find kinich. hunched, elbow balanced on a knee as his eyes, unfocused, stare at the ground.
of course, you run over. sitting next to him, you notice the slight sheen of sweat on his head, slightly out of breath. maybe he just got done with a commission?
“kinich! hey, are you okay?…” you place a hand on his shoulder, his body immediately tensing. you lift to take it back, only for him to take your wrist halfway.
he lets go with a small mutter of an apology, still not looking you in the eyes.
he says nothing; but you notice the way he shifts away when you come too close, how on edge he suddenly seems to be.
you frown.
“kinich…”
he shakes his head and wincingly speaks. “you should go home…”
it makes your heart pang with a little hurt before pushing through, slowly and gently taking his hand in yours as he curls his fingers with yours, despite the words he last said.
“only if you go with me,” you say without much thought put into the implications.
kinich tightens his grip on your hand, not to a suffocating point, but noticeable.
he lets you come close.
and just like so many times before, you’re in a dangerous situation.
but this time, there’s no one to interrupt.
kinich feel weak reaching out to you, cupping your face purely by instinct, his keen, intellect ridden thinking overrun with you.
and the words, poisonous coming from him, “kiss me?” are the product.
your eyes grow, looking at him with such surprise in contrast to his stoicism, hiding beneath some sort of suffering, a yearning to be loved. it hurt, it hurts.
but he’d suffer eons if it meant he could experience that love, even just once. such as in the moment where your lips come to his, featherlight in ministration, like you’re testing how far the fall is.
he’s the one who deepens it, leaning into you as the moment seems to last for so long, just as he wants it to be.
after all, his yearning must come with some price, no?
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
the epitome of love at first sight. but also the epitome of hate at first sight. when you spot someone and immediately fall in love, lyney’s at work. he’s a rather romantic person, after all. if you spot someone and immediately want to wring their throat, lyney’s also to blame. although he prefers the former, he is a part of the fatui. what can be done?
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
ironically, love at first sight. only on his end, however. you… saw differently. perhaps someone was messing with him, because you seemed to dislike him from the get go. taste of his own medicine, huh? that dislike transformed into something deeper, akin to hate, as he began breaking up you and whoever you were romantically involved with. he thought he was being subtle, too… now, he spends his time flirting with and dedicating his shows to you, hoping that maybe one day things will change.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it was late out, a time you’d rather have spent at home. however, your friend decided it’d be a great idea to go to a magic show happening around that time, dragging you along despite your protests.
even now, seeing the magicians performing on stage makes your blood simmer. you can see the smug glint in his eyes and even his less expressive sister has a knowing look in hers. you know they see you.
and yet, despite the clear distaste you’ve made clear for the pair, lyney still throws you that same rainbow rose bouquet he throws every single time you (somehow, usually by force) attend his shows. even if the gesture makes you feel even more taunted, you still can’t help but feel the action to be a little… heartwarming. you feel your face uncomfortably heat up.
you can barely hear nor see the people around you, their stares nonexistent as you narrow in on the stage, at lyney. he stares right back, but the intent behind his gaze is noticeably different than yours.
“you know, i think he’s into you! you’re so lucky!”
you excuse yourself from your friend.
you need some air, away from the crowd, away from their piercing— and you find yourself leaning against a far alleyway wall, heart beating uncontrollably as you recall that soft look in his eyes. you shake your head from those thoughts, shifting to look at his gift in your hand.
it’s quiet, the only interruptions being the small echoes of cheers from the magic show. it’s almost over, you can tell.
you feel your fingers slowly curl deeper into the bouquet you’re holding, choking the pretty flowers as a few petals make their way to the ground. you toss it, the main vessel joining its shedding.
“oh, dear.”
you instinctively wince, head rising to meet the voice of the one you heard speak. you recognize it, and it makes you feel a little sicker.
“you don’t appreciate my gift, i take it?” lyney eyes the mess on the ground, flowers strewn all around lying on top the ribbon holding them together, colored your favorite.
“i’d love it if it were from anyone else but you.” you immediately jab.
he dramatically brings the back of his hand to his head as if going through a fainting spell. “oh, mon amor, you wound me so…”
“don’t even,” you cut in, “i’m sure your sister must be looking for you—”
“lynette is preoccupied with cleaning the stage and knows well about my absence.” lyney smiles, but you feel far from eased by the gesture. you notice the small hint of sadness beneath the mask, and wonder what’s really going on.
despite wanting to ask, you feel your eye twitch. “what do you want, exactly?”
his expression morphs into something more serious, genuine. he slowly tips his hat off, holding it to his chest as he locks eyes unwaveringly, intensely.
“i’ve been… pondering. reflecting, as of late… about my actions towards you from before. i never truly apologized, have i?”
you look at him strangely despite the words from his mouth being in the same tongue, simple meaning, easy to comprehend; but the things you want to say in reply escape you.
you remember them so clearly, the memories of previous lovers not lasting because of the man in front of you playing some part in the relationships’ demise. you have had nights struggling over his actions, thoughts keeping you awake as insecurities bubbled and everything seemed to overflow. it comes to mind that what he’s saying is true. he never quite said a sort of sorry for everything, despite “pursuing” you today.
“… no, you haven’t.”
he almost reaches for you, but thinks twice. “I’m sorry, truly, for causing you all the pain you must’ve gone through because of my actions.”
you divert your eyes as you find yourself mumbling, “why are you apologizing now?”
lyney risks a step forward, ending right in front of you. “when you were looking— glaring— at me from the audience, i felt… felt a certain sorrow. that perhaps… i was simply forcing you to be someone that i can never achieve or be lucky enough to have.
i know my attempts seem unserious… but when i broke your relationships back then…”
“lyney,” you interrupt softer than you intended, “were you… jealous?”
he ceases to look you in the eyes.
“you’re… that’s a petty, stupid thing to do, you know that, right?” you chide, eyes wide in disbelief. all these years, you had believed his flirting, those breakups— all to make fun of you, have some fun at your own expense. but…
“love is blind, i can attest to that.”
before you realize it, you’re pulling lyney in, his back against the brick wall as he breathes a small, sharp intake of air.
he gives a small smirk despite being the one trapped. “oh? and to think you seemed to hate me just a few moments ago. did i play my cards to your liking?”
“were you serious?” you ask, not replying to his statements. “do… do you actually—”
lyney puts a finger to your lips, infuriatingly light with a small teasing tone of voice. “nothing but the truth.”
and that’s all it takes to have your lips on his, kissing him so unlike the embraces you’ve experienced before, this filled with a certain kind of passion that fills the memories you once held as ammo for your hate for the magician you’re locking with in an alleyway.
it makes you almost laugh at the irony, at the contrast.
you feel lyney’s hands trail to your waist, pulling you closer as you wrap your arms around his neck, before slowly pulling away for some air. he chases after you even as you lean away for a little, until the sound of footsteps makes you both halter.
you pull him back and duck quickly behind the nearby trash bin, thankfully tall and wide enough to block any view of you two, as the footsteps fade into the darkness of the night, small calls of your name being heard.
only small intakes of breath can be heard as you both catch your breaths, a small giggle leaving you.
“that’s… my friend. we… we should go, huh?” you say, a little short of breath. “i’m sure lynette’s—”
“they can wait,” lyney tugs you onto him. “please?”
how were you ever able to resist him before?
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
breaks couples up for the fun of it, sometimes with good intentions and sometimes with non-justifiable reasons. he yanks out the worst in people, clouds people’s judgements, makes it so that fixable problems turn into bigger dilemmas. a pain is what he is.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
he hates you. his first time meeting you was when he was in the middle of instigating a breakup. it was going pretty well until you bumped in, smoothing everything out the quickest he’s ever seen someone do. so, he avoided you. but you kept mending whatever relationships he’d try to break up in your area. and sure, he says he hates it, but the fact that he still stays in your area suggests something. with that said, you’ve known each other for quite a long time.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
he heard you got a boyfriend.
so, he formed a plan.
he waited for a few weeks, just to let your new “phase” become a more familiar part of your life.
then he shot his arrows at your boyfriend only, just to make the pain hurt more on your end. unrequited love was always bitter, satisfying to him, after all.
for the next couple weeks, he began feeding your boyfriend information about yourself that was exaggerated in the worst way possible, well fabricated falsities, anything that would make him leave.
it was supposed to be liberating, seeing the day your boyfriend finally ended it. scaramouche was invisible to your eyes, floating in the skies above as the confrontation happened, and when that guy left you standing frozen in place, he thought he’d relish in seeing your tears, the sadness that always came with breakups like this. you still had feelings for your now ex, after all.
but instead…
you had just gone through a messy breakup. you couldn’t help crumpling to the ground, sitting and furiously wiping your face whose tears just kept coming.
you stopped wiping them when they wouldn’t stop. you let them fall, let the world around you fade as you sat, disassociated.
you hear a rustle come from nearby.
behind a tree comes him.
scaramouche, an infuriating jerk who you’ve only interacted with through bitter insults and counteracting whatever pleasure he gets from wanting to break people up. you’ve never seen a softer side of him, never seen a reason to try, up until today.
you watch him cautiously as he sits down next to you.
“what do you want?” you say as coldly as you can, but you’re too exhausted to muster up any sort of intense emotion.
“… you’re crying.” he states.
“… no kidding?”
“do you… want to talk about it?”
you let the awkward silence sink in before addressing what he just said.
“… really, when you’re probably behind this? leave me alone, scaramouche.”
you sniff, turning your head away from him.
he scoffs. “as always, you’re being such a brat.”
when you don’t give him a reply, he moves to where you’re facing.
slowly, he cups your face. you almost flinch in response, but his hold on you is almost… comforting, in a way.
“you’re ugly when you cry.” he says, wiping away your remaining tears.
you huff, “that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
this time, he doesn’t respond as he wordlessly keeps your face held by his hands. your eyes are dried by now, but everything still lingers.
“you did this.”
scaramouche looks away from you, contemplating. “it’s not like he was a good boyfriend to you.”
“how would you know?” you look at him with a glare, albeit with some curiosity.
“it doesn’t matter.”
“i think it does, what, were you jealous?” you challenge, making scaramouche sigh as he looks you in the eye. it’s a little intimidating, but you meet him head on.
“the audacity to even suggest something like that.” he mutters, containing less of his usual bite.
“you’re still holding my face.”
he’s silent.
“i hate you so much,” he starts. you’re about to retaliate before he continues.
“does he know you hate the restaurant you always go to on dates?”
“wha—?”
“does he know,” he cuts you off, “that you take the long route home from that restaurant because you like the scenery and hate the muddy roads through the other path?”
“no,” you butt in. “so how do you know?”
“like i said, it doesn’t matter. what matters is that he was stupid and you shouldn’t be crying over him.”
you feel your eyes widen.
then it hits you.
something literally hits you. pierces, to be exact. but you don’t feel pain. you feel the opposite, you feel the warming in your chest, your face growing hot and your vision turning dizzy.
scaramouche’s still holding your face, his own eyes blown open as you process the sudden spike in heat from his hands.
you hear him curse under his breath.
neither of you makes a move as the symptoms fully sink in.
you find yourself bringing your hands to his porcelain face, feeling him shiver.
and before you can fully think, both you and scaramouche lean in at the same time.
when you press your lips against each other, it’s soft, delicate, like you both are testing the waters without rippling through it. you feel him sigh into the kiss, the action making you move a hand to the back of his neck. it quickly becomes more desperate than you intend.
you hear someone stutter your name as you pull away from scaramouche, recognizing the voice.
it’s your ex.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
somewhat traditional and a tad bit cheesy with how he matchmakes, but there’s nothing wrong with that! known as “the fixer” because he fixes up relationships and helps them stay fixed.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
really, really, unfortunately likes you. he’s been caught daydreaming on countless occasions, gives you homemade and purchased gifts he knows you like, sees you in places and things that remind him of you— all to be reminded of his place in the grand scheme of things. he knows, he’s falling too hard for someone he can’t have. but for some reason, he can’t stop.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
so, maybe he likes— loves— you a lot.
and… loving sometimes means having to make sacrifices to keep your loved ones happier for the future. that’s what he thinks, at least.
a cupid loving a human wasn’t normal, wouldn’t be good in the long run. therefore…
“what’s my type?”
thoma nods, an awkward laugh leaving him. “yeah, um, i was just wondering…”
you smile teasingly. “okay, let me think.”
“take your time,” thoma nods, looking anywhere but you else he might fold from the expression you’re giving him. calculating, knowing. he can feel himself fluster, face turning warm under your staring.
you hum. “personality-wise… someone caring, loyal… too kind for his own good while still having a playful side.”
“i-i see…” thoma says. he thinks for a sliver of second that your description matches terms many have used to describe him, and his heart flutters more rapidly than he appreciates while sinking all the same. “and looks-wise?”
you inch closer to him, he notices all too well. “hm, strawberry-blonde hair… green eyes… tall…”
thoma feels his heart jump higher and higher to his throat. you’re close, closer than before…
“are you… describing someone in particular?” thoma manages, an easygoing smile masking how badly he wants to pull you in at the moment, to profess his love for you, to be able to be with you forever…
your expression falters slightly. “i am, actually…”
“are you, by any chance…” he trails off, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he’s letting his feelings get in the way again—
you place a hand on his chest, no doubt feeling how hard his heart hammers. “i was describing you, you know.”
thoma’s breathing hitches. he wants to confess right then and there, to pour his whole heart out, but all he can get out are a couple stutters because this shouldn’t be happening.
it shouldn’t, it’s prohibited, but he lets you cup his face anyways, his hands ghosting over your biceps unsure of how to continue.
“thoma… are you okay? you… don’t have to reciprocate…” you say, worry prominent in your tone. he can hear the underlying dolor with your words, and thoma wants to beat himself up for being the cause.
he makes up his mind.
running his hands down to your waist, thoma pulls you against him and kisses you tenderly, softly; the immediate elation filling him up. he thinks that nothing else can compare to the happiness overwhelming him at the moment as your lips move as easily against his, your thumb caressing his face so sweetly.
even when you separate, it’s slow, a small lean away with your breaths still able to intermingle. his lips tingle, and he dips down again, only to be stopped by your finger.
your eyes crease. “i take it you feel the same?”
thoma laughs, gentle and warm sounding. “i do, of course i do.”
and when he kisses you again, he knows for sure he’s a goner.
he fell too easily, too hard.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
works with botany to make relationships bloom (haha). known to make people spontaneously smell better with his specialized perfumes and colognes when around their other half and creates unique atmospheres that a simple candle couldn’t create with his own blends of incenses. and the meals he makes on occasion… well, he knows a very powerful spice that leaves those who eat his food rather infatuated.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
it started out merely as earthly coworkers, but he developed feelings as you went on more expeditions and patrols together. he buried them down, however, sticking to the opportunities he’s already been gifted. he already got special permission to be stationed near the forest he so dearly wanted to be by, so faraway yearning will have to be enough.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it was on an expedition with you, tighnari, and two other rangers; them being apart of his current mission as a cupid.
he’d already shot them with his arrows, but them dancing around each other would hardly be named a job well done. they needed a stronger push, something like a concoction of his slipped into their food or something…
“‘nari, you awake in there?”
he hears you call out to him, gentle as ever. he wonders if you know how crazy that drives him.
he sets down the spoon that he’s been mindlessly stirring around against the pot.
“we may need more firewood. could you go look?”
you nod and scurry off, leaving tighnari sighing to himself. he glances at the two rangers beside the river gathering water, making sure they’re a good distance away. he then scoops a good serving of stew for the four bowls set out, sprinkling a special spice he made himself into two of them and stirring the mixtures as to conceal the extra ingredient.
his ear twitches as he hears you coming back along with the rangers, taking your bowl to hand to you.
you accept it with a smile as he warns it’s hot, joining him sitting as you dig into dinner.
he carefully watches the pair across from you out of the corner of his eye as he converses with you and, thankfully, things seem to be going well.
you suddenly stand up, diverting his attention to solely you. “ah, i don’t feel too well… i think i’m gonna go to bed early.”
tighnari nods, standing up beside you and taking your bowl slowly. “don’t feel too well… in what way? you didn’t do any unsupervised foraging, did you?” his voice reaches a sterner tone near the end.
you simply shake your head. “just… off. it’s nothing, really. probably just tired, it was a long day.”
he nods, “i see. sleep well, then.”
you thank him before going into your tent, tighnari puzzling over what could be the matter before refocusing to the job at hand.
eventually, as it grows darker and tighnari’s done cleaning up, the two rangers having gone into their agreed upon shared tent, he decides it’s a good time to head to bed as well. he heads into his own tent, unbeknownst to the next events about to occur.
you’re burning.
it feels akin to a fever, but you don’t feel sick. your mind feels a little fogged, but there’s one thing clear. you want to go see tighnari.
you exit your tent, stumbling a little. you stop outside his as you knock on the rock outside to alert him of your presence, hoping he won’t be too annoyed with you waking him up like this.
strangely, he seems to be awake already, and he unzips the tent rather quickly.
“(name)…” he mumbles, trailing off as you hug him. your skin’s unnaturally hot.
he hugs you with hesitancy. “i think someone put something into the soup.”
you nod, resting your head in his neck as he sighs.
“i think… i think you should go back to your tent,” tighnari says, but his actions betray him as he holds you tighter.
you simply shake your head no before adding, “can we sleep… in the same tent tonight?”
“you know that’s…”
you look up at him, conflicting emotions clear on his face as he brings a hand to the back of your head.
“please?” you ask again. he looks pretty, the moon shining over him as your heart pumps so fast with his.
something in him folds as he nods his head.
“… fine.”
he lets you go, the second he does so inviting emptiness as you sigh from the sudden flood. you enter the tent first as he holds the flaps open for you, following behind as you get comfortable on his bedding.
tighnari comes over and, despite his best efforts not to, goes back to holding you as he did before.
you think to yourself, with the last parts of your mind unclogged, maybe he’s only acting this way because of whatever was in the soup. you know you aren’t, considering your feelings for him, but that gives you the willpower to break out of his hold and sit upright.
he sits up too, confusion apparent on his face.
“i… don’t want you to go back to your original self tomorrow morning and regret the previous night.” you find yourself saying.
tighnari simply cups your face, eyes looking into yours.
“i’m immune to whatever was put in the soup. i feel… as normal as i can be right now.”
tighnari will regret tomorrow morning no matter what. but he’d do it again. and again and again and again, because he let himself fall like this.
“you mean it? then…” you can feel your own hands move to his shoulders, to the sides of his neck.
“i do.”
you’re now close, so close your lips would brush together with the smallest movement.
you both close the paper-thin gap at the same time. you relish in the satisfaction it gives, kissing tighnari like he’s a lifeline. almost desperate, untying.
you only break away to tell him, “i love you.”
tighnari, having heard those words so many times with the words being forbidden if from his mouth, responds very clearly.
“i love you, too.”
and he dives in again.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
intimidating, to say the least, considering his large stature. his easygoing, carefree nature helps smooth over any existing problems, reliable in any scenario, even if it’s gone haywire.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
he’d never be able to pinpoint when and where you first began growing closer, just knowing you did at one point and its growth ever since. he finds himself doing all sorts of things unbefitting of a leader, from zoning out even more during paperwork to let thoughts of you accompany him instead to him sometimes trailing down to your lips to imagine what’d it’d be like kissing them. he’s smitten, yearning. to follow you would be irresponsible, however, dismissing how much he wants to do so anyways.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
there was only one bed.
you and varka were on a mission, one that would take at least a couple days. it required a place to stay, a place that only had a few rooms left, all with a sole single bed.
it was a bit of a tight fit, considering the man next to you taking up a large chunk of the space. you’re unable to lie next to each other without your arms touching, the heat emanating making you want to kick the blanket on top of you to the floor.
“you alright? the offer still stands, y’know.”
you peek over at varka in his simple tight fitting shirt and lounge pants, sitting up and gazing at you.
this is the first good clear look you’ve gotten of him since he changed and, of course, you’re stunned.
you only look away when he smirks. you expect a small quip or tease, but instead he stays quiet, only lying back down and sighing.
this was varka lately. less boisterous, less carefree, acquiring a mulling mindset that allowed him more space.
your first guess at the cause of the shift was that it was a personal problem, something you avoided questioning him about while still giving your own support; only to realize it wasn’t that easy.
you remember him still laughing, normal, around jean that one night in the tavern.
it made you recognize, he was only different with you.
two weeks you’ve seen him as his usual self around others, only abnormal around you.
your expression changes as varka sighs, your heart slowly falling to your stomach. you sit up this time, the sheets pooling around you as you inhale slowly, letting go a drawn out exhale.
“did… i do something?”
varka takes a few to respond, the silence, even though brief, making you sweat all the same.
“pardon?”
you place a hand to your heart, feeling it beat erratically against its cage as you sneak a glance at him.
“for… the past couple weeks, you’ve been acting strange. and please, don’t play dumb.”
varka lifts himself up to mirror your stance, silent for a good couple seconds, probably contemplating his responses before he caves.
“can’t get anything past you, can i?” he says with a gruff chuckle, more to ease the tension than out of humor.
you look over at him, fully. a look of uncertainty plays on his face, a cruel dance.
“so, what did i do?”
he shakes his head, albeit hesitantly. it almost scared you, how incongruous he was being, how unsure. “i… can’t say.”
you swing your legs over the bed.
“… fine.” you wince at how harsh the word came out, making you backtrack. “sorry. i’m gonna go check to see if any other rooms opened up.”
before you can push yourself off the sheets, you feel the bed dip as varka grasps your wrist.
“wait. sorry. i… i need to show you something.”
he waits until you’re facing him before continuing, hushed voice reaching your ears as a whisper. “i don’t want you beating yourself up about this, so pay attention, yeah? this is supposed to be a secret.”
he trails his hands to yours, holding them delicately with his. as he shuts his eyes, a glow begins to surround his body, a warmth that seeps in you through your connected, intertwined fingers.
two giant wings flap from his back, knocking the pillows on the bed to the floor and scattering the items on the nightstand nearby, finally being recalled to relax as he opens his eyes to peer into yours.
“… varka?”
“i’m a cupid. you’ve heard of those, haven’t you? listen. cupids… aren’t allowed to be in a romantic relationship. and i… caught feelings. for you.”
your eyes soften as you listen, tightening your grip on his hands ever so slightly like he could disappear at any moment— which, you suppose, he really can.
“my plan was to distance myself, at least a little at a time. but, i’m a weak man, aren’t i? i shouldn’t even be telling you all this, but… i couldn’t see you so down because of me.”
“… i think a lot of people would disagree that you’re weak, you know.” you breathe, a little loss for words, a lot confused.
“only for you,” he murmurs, less focus in his eyes, yet still aware of how dangerous the current situation is, you’re sure. “only for you.”
you laugh, bittersweet while throwing out a rhetorical. “why did you tell me, confess to me, when i’m not even allowed to have you?”
varka glides a hand to your chin as he barks out a curt laugh, tilting your vision up to look at him.
“i’m yours,” he leans a bit closer, wings enclosing you in an embrace. “it’s wrong, this is so wrong. but… you’re alluring. in a way i can’t ignore. it feels irresponsible, but if you felt the same way…”
you lean forward, landing your lips on his.
it’s sweet, slow, breathless all the same.
you can feel varka’s hand fall from your chin down to your waist, pulling you closer to drink your lips.
it’s risky, unsafe. but with your lips moving against his, he won’t, can’t, find himself saying so.
yes, varka feels weak, almost unbearably so. weak-willed. undeniably whipped.
you separate for just a moment, enough time for you to say those sweet words, “i do— i do feel the same way.”
and varka knows for sure— he was doomed from the start.
꒰ঌ what kind of cupid are they? ໒꒱
he’s under a contract to work and doesn’t complain, even if the two jobs of slaying demons and matchmaking humans can put him some tedious and weighty stress. he does wonder if his entire life will forever consist of this. it’s… calm, but a part of him still remains restless. maybe one day he’ll be able to relax.
꒰ঌ your relationship? ໒꒱
you work in bubu pharmacy, making you see xiao a lot. an intimate relationship was formed after being his designated caretaker for a couple of months, and eventually he revealed that not only was he an adeptus, but a cupid as well. he realized he caught feelings only after a certain conversation with zhongli.
꒰ঌ so, what happens? ໒꒱
it’d been a month.
you were confused, to say the least. what happened? did you do something? was it because of what he told you?
it seemed that no matter how hard you tried to talk to him or even see him, he evaded everything.
you still notice how empty your route going home is, however. so despite the silent treatment you’ve been given, you know that he’s alive.
but… it still hurt.
you’re busying yourself by taking stock, ready to head home as soon as you finish. it’s quite dark out, but it clearly highlights the stars in the sky. it reminds you of xiao, of the countless nights you’ve spent fussing over him; seemingly over now for a reason you don’t know.
you find yourself still, hands gripping the drawer you have open. you shut it softly, a sigh leaving you.
you suddenly feel a familiar gust of wind behind you.
snapping your head around, you see xiao. for the first time in an entire month, he’s back.
he stumbles, your arms instinctively reaching out to his to balance him. he’s warm, you absentmindedly note.
“xiao? are you…”
he tilts his head forward into your collarbone, pulling you in like you’re his sole life source. your sentence dies on your tongue, his proximity being the only thing clear at the moment.
his head’s burning, hot to the touch as you wonder what’s got him acting like this. a fever?
“xiao, lie down on your bed.”
he makes no movement to do so. his grip simply tightens in reply, head shaking a “no.”
you huff and carefully guide him as best you can, sitting him on the bed as you place a hand on his forehead. it’s hot, as you expected. he shivers at the contact.
“you’re shaking.”
he nods, dryly swallowing. you notice. you straighten to go get him some water, only to be stopped by him tugging you back.
“i want you here,” he says hoarsely, voice drowning in hesitation as he keeps a hand tangled with yours.
you can feel your heart leaping into your throat.
you tug your hand away with little effort, seeing the frown that creases xiao’s face as you do so.
you give him a slight apologetic smile. “i’m getting water. i’ll be back.”
you get a glass and a damp cold cloth for his head. when you come back, he’s lying down, staring at the ceiling. he snaps out of his daze when you enter, though, and quickly sits up.
without speaking, you sit next to xiao on the bed and raise the glass of water to his lips, slightly tipping it for him to drink. he does so, albeit rather apprehensively. when he’s finished, you give him the cloth to place on his forehead. you’re about to get up, but you hear xiao say your name.
he waits until you’re looking at him before mumbling, “… i’m sorry.”
“for?”
“avoiding you for all this time. it was not a mature way to express my emotions… i… should have explained why.” he holds the cloth to his head, sighing at the small relief.
“so… what happened?” you ask.
the sheets rustle as xiao lies down. “the day i told you i was a cupid… i consulted zhongli about telling you. he said that i may have… deeper feelings for you.
“i am prohibited from having an intimate relationship with a mortal. but these symptoms i have… are alike the golden arrows that only the archons carry.”
you feel the tension building up as it sinks in, every word of his making the butterflies in your stomach stir. “you… an archon shot you? so… it’s like… they’re allowing it? and you came here?”
he shifts his gaze away from you.
“xiao, look at me?”
you come closer, hovering over his face.
he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. he only brings a hand to your cheek, cupping your face as you near.
“may i?” you’re so close, mind dizzy as you hold his hands, one entangled with his as the other over his hand on your face.
he gives a curt nod before muttering a small, “please.”
you press your lips against his, his being hot to the touch. xiao sighs at the contact as his grip tightens ever so slightly.
you separate for just a moment, xiao chasing your lips as you do. you think that later you’ll tease him for how desperate he looks in this moment.
“i just need to make sure…” you start quietly. “you had feelings for me before you were shot?”
xiao nods. “you don’t need to worry. the arrow… only made it easier for me to tell you.”
you hum, going in to kiss him again, deeper.
and between each time through stuttered breaths, you hear him profess his feelings through three simple words.
“i love you.”
BONUS:
venti sighs, carefree and blissful.
he can pick up traces of cupids and humans here and there, obvious mixed and confounded emotions drifting all the way to him. perhaps he’ll help out later, but for now…
you trace the curves of his braids as his head stays placidly on your lap, moving delicately to his feathers that involuntarily flutter at the touch.
what would his fellow cupids say, seeing their archon in the lap of a mortal? a hypocrite he is for not following that age-old rule, for not being like his fellow archons upholding it to the fullest. or so he thinks, perhaps they too have something to hide.
have you ever tried this one? pt. 2
✩ genshin boys' fav positions x fem!reader
↳ ft. wriothesley, ifa, childe, flins
WRIOTHESLEY fucks you doggy-style because he loves watching his cock slip in and out of you. he's got a perfect view of your plush ass and trembling thighs as he thrusts his hips into yours at a brutal pace. he's rough with you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he grabs at your throat from behind you, lightly choking you with a scarred hand. with him bent over you like this, you can hear his deep, guttural groans as he buries his cock inside your abused pussy over and over, losing himself in the feeling of you clenching around him... <3
IFA and prone bone because he can touch everything he wants to. a hand squeezing your tits while he pounds into you, or grabbing a fistful your hair if you allow him. you're perfectly tight around him, with his languid drags of his cock pushing your face into your pillow, drool pooling on the soft fabric. it's comfortable, laid-back just like he is, and after he finishes, it's the perfect position for him to caress your body and hold you sweetly... <3
CHILDE is an efficient person who likes getting to the point, which is why he can't control himself with your sweet pussy hovering over his eager mouth, and his throbbing length shoved down your spasming throat. he could swear he's ascending right now, fingers digging into your sides, pulling you down onto his face, tongue flicking over your clit before he presses it into your warm hole. he's addicted to the way you taste, and even if you weren't diligently working on sucking his cock, he could probably cum in his pants just from eating you out... <3
FLINS likes when you take control on top, guiding your own pace as you bounce on his cock. use him as a toy, he loves it. he'll happily lie there and give you as much as you need, cooing sweet remarks at you while he watches your hips rock atop his. he's got good stamina, and he lets you keep going even after he cums inside you once, he just wants to make himself of use to you. it's endearing for you as well, watching his pretty face seize up with unimaginable pleasure as you ride him until you can't take it anymore... <3
synopsis-you find yourself in an arranged marriage with a member of one of the most feared groups in teyvat. certainly they won't shed their intimidating exterior and begin to fall for you...unless?
warnings-arranged marriage, gn reader, some mentions of violence, alcohol (in arlecchino's part), some manipulation (mostly in pantalone's part), probably a bit ooc (especially for dottore lol)
pierro:
-at first he has no genuine interest in you, but he’ll still be courteous towards you for appearance’s sake. he’ll hold doors open for you, assign guards to escort you anywhere you want to go, and put his arm around you whenever you’re walking together. despite the tenderness of his gestures, it still seems like his feelings towards you are as cold as the snowy snezhnayan winter, very few things are able to sway pierro’s stoic demeanor
-in an attempt to get closer to you, he’ll take you out on walks in the middle of the night, it’s just about the only free time he gets and he likes to avoid the watchful eyes of the public. since you’re being forced to spend the rest of your days together, he figures he might as well spend some time with you. for a while you walk side by side in silence with your hand resting upon his arm as he guides you around the city, you can’t think of anything that you could discuss with the head of the fatui harbingers. one night when you’re feeling particularly bold, you ask him how his day was. pierro pauses for a moment before letting out a barely audible chuckle that rumbles out of his broad chest. he simply states that he’d rather hear about your day and says your endeavors are likely more interesting than his since he spends more time giving orders and doing paperwork than anything else. under the guise of wishing to listen to you excitedly talk about what you do with your time, pierro keeps you protected from the reality of the dirty work he finds himself caught up in as the director of the fatui (although he has come to enjoy the sound of your voice)
-you realize that he’s actually starting to become fond of you when he briefly neglects his duties to be with you. he’ll cut meetings with the harbingers short so he can visit you and allow you to come into his office while he works through mounds of diplomatic paperwork
-you’re sitting on a couch in pierro’s large office absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a book when a fatui underling stumbles in through the door with a bouquet of padisarah flowers cradled in both of his arms. the young and very obviously nervous young man stutters out something along the lines of “where is your lover’s room again, lord harbinger?” your face flushes as you glance over at pierro, who pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “just bring them to my desk.” pierro stares down the underling as he scurries towards his desk and gently places the massive bouquet on it before swiftly making his way to the door. your eyes stay locked on pierro as his spindly fingers wrap around the flowers, grasping the carefully trimmed stems just above the pale blue ribbon tied in a bow around them. he saunters over to where you’re sitting and gently places the flowers in your arms. “i had them imported from sumeru since…” pierro’s voice trails off and your eyes widen at the thought of him feeling shy in your presence, “we got married one year ago today.” his intensely blue eyes meet your gaze after he finishes speaking. “they’re beautiful,” you smile, “thank you, pierro.” “not nearly as beautiful as you, my dear” he replies as his gloved hand gingerly cradles your face, his chilly fingers being a stark contrast to your flushing skin. the interaction leaves you unspeakably flustered and has you looking forward to many more years of being wed to pierro
capitano:
-much like pierro he’s not particularly interested in having a romantic relationship with you, but he won’t be completely cold and stoic with you like he is with other people, he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him. he also won’t really be physically affectionate, the most he’s going to do is put his arm out for you to hold while you’re walking together as he doesn’t want to lose his reputation of being a formidable and powerful harbinger
-he allows you to follow him around most days while he gives orders to fatui soldiers and meets with the other harbingers. he’ll stop to talk with you every now and then but doesn’t go out of his way to be romantic or give off the impression that your marriage is founded in the two of you being attracted to each other
-part of him finds your presence comforting, capitano hasn’t had any sort of companion in so long and being around someone that isn’t ordering him around or battling with him makes a foreign sense of warmth well up within his decaying chest. he eventually finds himself infatuated with you and the softness you bring into his life–he longs to find a way to show you he cares about you without making you uncomfortable
-one night while you’re waiting for capitano to get out of a confidential meeting with the other harbingers a couple of guards begin frisking you, asking why you’ve been lingering in the hall for so long and not taking your answer that you’re married to capitano as the truth. just as tears begin to crawl across your lashline, you feel a large, heavy hand fall onto your shoulder. as you turn around, your eyes fall upon your foreboding husband standing behind you. “are they bothering you, dearest?” capitano asks in his deep, stern voice. you nod frantically, taking the opportunity to cling onto his strong arm. the guards skitter away at the sight of one of the most powerful harbingers staring them down, not wanting to subject themselves to whatever getting on his bad side looks like. even after they leave, you remain clinging onto capitano, reveling in how protected he makes you feel. gazing down at your still shaking form, he says “i’m sorry you had to deal with them. is there anything i can do to make up for my absence, sweetheart?” the emphasis he places on the pet name has your heart fluttering, so much so that you can’t find the words to respond to his question (even though you know exactly what you want). instead of responding, you simply curl into his chest. you assume that he can tell how you feel about him from the way one of his arms wraps around your waist while his other hand gently holds the back of your head–you’re completely unaware of how long he’s been waiting to do so
dottore:
-he uses you as a lab assistant…until you make a mistake…then he just lectures you and expects you to watch and ask questions about his (evil) genius scientific process. he loves to show off and he knows that you really have no choice but to stay with him so you’ll be stuck in his lab a lot of the time watching him work (unless he’s doing one of his cruel human experiments, he spares you from the sight of those)
-it takes him forever to show any bit of warmth towards you. he’s never really cared for marriage and being wed to you is no different to him, he views forming relationships as a waste of time. however, he’ll eventually start to realize that you’re the only person whose presence he can tolerate and he curses himself for beginning to go soft. you’ve lingered around his lab for so long that he’s gotten used to your endless questions and sometimes clumsy movements, he’s even begun to find them comforting, familiar. the way that you bump into his desk and occasionally hand him the wrong test tube used to anger him, but watching you learn how to navigate his lab and what subjects interest him the most has been (as much as he hates the word) endearing
-the next time dottore beckons you to his laboratory so you can hand him samples while he works he finds the tips of his ears burning every time your hands come close to his. he huffs under his breath, infuriated that his body is subjecting him to such trivial, juvenile emotions. you notice the change in his demeanor and ask him if he’s feeling alright to which he frustratedly throws his hands against his desk, sighing deeply before motioning for you to come closer to him. hesitantly, you approach him, even after knowing each other for a while his anger still intimidates you. the moment you look up at him he presses his lips against yours. his kiss is fleeting, more so his lips briefly coming into contact with yours than an actual kiss–it ends before you can fully process what’s happening. he can’t help but smile crookedly at the sight of your face heating up just as his did moments earlier. “fascinating,” he mutters, “so you have begun to fall for me.” your cheeks flush as dottore speaks, the way that he talks about your feelings so clinically like you’re one of his experiments makes you feel embarrassed for having a physical reaction to his kiss. before you can muster a half-hearted excuse, he turns and walks away, calling out “i’ll see you after i’m done working, darling” in a condescending tone as he wanders to another part of the lab. you take it as a cue to go back to your room and contemplate what your relationship with dottore has evolved into
arlecchino:
-she is extremely cold towards you for a while, she sees your marriage as nothing more than a legal union and doesn’t really care to pay attention to you. she won’t be rude to you when you’re together, but she believes she has more important things to do than form any sort of relationship with you. most of the time you spend with her is at political events where the two of you are expected to make an appearance together and whenever you happen to run into her in snezhnaya
-arlecchino tends to keep her distance from you–she doesn’t want you to distract her from her work and also thinks you deserve to be protected from the dangerous fatui business that you didn’t ask to be a part of.
-after you’ve been married for a while she takes you with her whenever she visits the house of the hearth because the children keep asking about you and desperately want to meet the person who father married (that and she doesn’t have to worry about protecting you from the other harbingers while you’re in fontaine). the first time you visit you’re greeted with a chorus of “oos” and “ahs” from the children crowding around you who marvel at the sight of arlecchino’s supposed lover. she can’t help but grin ever so slightly at the sight of you reading to and playing with the children she cares about so much
-while you’re in fontaine together she takes you on a date at hotel debord. you’re surprised and somewhat intimidated by the invitation, but also afraid of what will happen if you turn her down. she reserves a private table for the two of you on the second floor and orders a bottle of champagne that you can tell cost a few thousand mora just from the intricate design on the golden glass bottle. the two of you spend the evening talking, arlecchino seems much more willing to open up to you outside of the harsh environment of the fatui’s headquarters in snezhnaya. she tells stories about her travels and leaves out the gruesome details, her face flushes when you stare at her, your eyes sparkling as you compliment her strength. towards the end of your date she looks at you and says “we should do this more often.” it’s the softest you’ve ever heard her usually monotone voice sound, and you can’t help but agree with her
signora:
-she treats you like you’re her new pet kitten–like you’re a plaything for her to show off. she’s not exactly romantic or affectionate with you behind closed doors but in public she’ll flaunt your relationship to whoever’s willing to listen. she tells all of the other harbingers about how perfect you are and is all over you whenever you’re out together, she loves to wrap her arm around your shoulders and keep you as close to her as humanly possible so everyone can see that a lovely little thing like you is hers
-signora doesn’t spend much time with you in private but she loves to take you out on dates and be as flashy as possible. she’ll buy you expensive custom made clothes and make your outings as much of a spectacle as she can. she loves watching reporters attempt to subtly follow the two of you and obtain information regarding your relationship while she parades you around as if you’re a priceless piece of jewelry
-whenever you’re not around signora does find herself feeling lonely. her attitude causes most of the other harbingers to keep their distance from her so you’re really the only person she has to talk to and she finds herself wanting to get closer to you. however, she has no clue how to approach you romantically without scaring you off or being too bold or embarrassing herself so she just waits for an opportunity to do so to naturally present itself
-one day you return from an outing with a few fatui skirmishers somewhat beaten up after getting a little too close during their encounter with a frostarm lawachurl. upon seeing the state you’re in, signora scolds the entire group, going on about how someone closely associated with one of the harbingers should never be put in such a dangerous situation and how the skirmishers should feel lucky that she’s not ending them right then and there, all while caging you in her protective embrace. you assume that her touch is purely for show, but even when the two of you are alone she keeps her arms wrapped around you, gently running her hands over your scrapes and bruises. you can’t help but avoid making eye contact with her, you’re not used to signora being so genuinely affectionate with you. “you must be more careful,” she says, her typical cocky demeanor softening, “you are very precious to me.” her admission makes you hide your face in the crook of her neck, to which she chuckles softly. you would have never expected it, but signora’s grand displays of affection for you were starting to become genuine
pantalone:
-he doesn’t really bother to spend time with you, he instead chooses to commemorate your marriage by presenting you with an abundance of expensive gifts (include your massive, glimmering wedding ring that was custom made for you using the finest diamonds in teyvat, which everyone you encounter can’t help but stare at). almost every week you’ll find a new luxury item in your room–handbags, fur coats, perfume, jewelry–anything that pantalone thinks will keep you from demanding a divorce. he’s a busy man so it’s easier for him to perpetuate the illusion of you two being married by gifting you items that only his unfathomable wealth could come close to affording
-after a few of the harbingers begin teasing him for never bringing you around, pantalone keeps you by his side as if you’re some sort of luxurious accessory, hoping that he can use your marriage as another means to get whatever he wants. he’ll expect you to follow him around as he works and look expensive and intimidating just as he does. on top of that, he’ll sometimes treat you as his secretary, giving you the same condescending smile he gives everyone else as he asks you to bring files to his office or to deliver a message to someone
-although he would never admit that he’s falling for you, pantalone relies on you a lot. the small things that you do for him add up and make his hectic work life slightly less busy. pantalone begins to associate your presence with tranquility, like a beacon of gentleness in the ruthless sphere of fatui business. you never frustrate him like many other people do, you just walk alongside him and occasionally ask if there’s anything you can do to help him, something that he doesn’t realize he appreciates until he really thinks about it. although his first instinct is to repay you with material goods, he begins to realize that actually acting like your husband would likely be a more efficient way to keep you happy (and would make it easier for him to get what he wants from you in the future)
-while you’re carrying a large pile of papers down one of the massive corridors of the zapolyarny palace a fatui diplomat bumps into you, causing the pages in your arms to fly out of your grasp and scatter across the floor. “watch where you’re going,” he hisses as you scramble to gather the files that pantalone had entrusted you with. a moment later you hear a voice from behind you. “how about you watch how you’re speaking to a harbinger’s lover” pantalone chides at the other man who’s still standing a few steps away from you. the man can barely muster an apology as he tries to fearfully scurry away from pantalone’s intimidating stare. you gaze up at your purple-eyed husband who, much to your surprise, kneels alongside you on the floor and helps you gather the files you dropped. he then stands and takes the pile from you before cupping your face with his empty hand, the metal of the many rings adorning his fingers is chilly against your skin. “no one will ever speak to you like that again while you’re with me, my little gem,” he says in an unfamiliarly sweet tone. you can only focus on keeping your mouth from dropping open in surprise as pantalone offers his hand for you to hold while the two of you walk together so he can show everyone that you’re his
childe:
-really the only harbinger that acts like you’re actually a married couple. he introduces you to his family, showers you with gifts, and goes out of his way to spend time with you (he loves ice skating/fishing with you and telling you stories alongside his siblings). half the time you’ll forget that you didn’t actually choose to marry him, anyone who observed the two of you together would be convinced you’ve been in love for years
-childe knew it would only be a matter of time before he began to fall for you, from the second he saw you he thought you were beautiful, not tainted by violence and abyssal energy like he is. although he can be quite cocky, he’s still a bit nervous that his feelings aren’t mutual. you’re one of the few people outside of his family who’s shown him kindness and he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you
-he goes all out when he plans to tell you how he feels about you. he takes you to liyue for lantern rite and buys you lavish jade jewelry and trinkets, accompanies you to any festivity you want to partake in, and gets the two of you a hotel room with a perfect view of the lantern release and fireworks. as you stand on the balcony watching the sunset he wraps his arms around you from behind. blood rushes to your face, you’re not used to childe being overt with his displays of affection. as you tilt your head to look at him he mutters “is this ok?” shyly, you nod, falling further into him as you realize how at home you feel in his arms, how you don’t want the warm, safe feelings he invokes in you to ever end. from that night on you found yourself feeling closer than ever to childe, the man that you could get used to calling your husband
Ajax wants to gag you whenever he fucks you in doggy because you're just too loud and he doesn't know when his siblings will be back from ice fishing. He would've made you suck on his fingers, but he's too busy grabbing handfuls of your ass. He'd rather not deal with someone's lectures after falling witness to your shaky legs and nasty mouth, but he can’t get enough of you.
You're so close to drooling all over your chin, moaning Ajax's name over and over just to rile him up a little.
"Do I need to gag you to shut you up, fuck!" He groans. "Should've used that throat instead, would've stayed quiet that way, hm? But—" His hips snap into your ass again, this time he's so deep that it almost hurts. "-Don't run away now. You feel so good."
You push your ass against him and that's all it takes for your Ajax to fold. He nearly doubles over your back and his thrusts turn into ruthless, forceful slams, as if his entire being has been altered by the mere push of your hips.
Ajax is completely lost in his own little world, ears deaf to your desperate cries and pleas of "A-Ajax, slow down!" or "No more! 's too much!"
He swears you’ll be the mother of his children one day.
loser nerd! Ajax who is a fucking bum. He successfully graduated college years ago with a degree in computer science and engineering yet he somehow never managed to keep a proper job less than a two month. He’d either get fired for being rude to the customers he’d consider ‘chadlits’ or playing those dating sims games instead of doing his job.
It’s pitiful, really. Why was the world so cruel to him? He’d done nothing wrong, it wasn’t his fault that he’d get disgustingly angered by those arrogant handsome guys that probably gets their dicks wet every night. He should be the one getting his dick wet every night. Those girls don’t know any better, this is why 2D waifs are top tier.
loser nerd! Ajax who is actually pretty buffed up underneath his shitty printed shirts and thrifted jeans. With big forearms, long and strong sturdy legs, and a ridiculously small waist, he’d be considered quite the attractive guy if it wasn’t for his introverted personality and those big black glasses taking half of his face.
loser nerd! Ajax who stumble upon your instagram acc, his college crush, as he went through his nith sleepless night of the week. At least he attended on scrolling past, that was years ago and he’d moved past that but somehow he couldn’t stop his finger from grabbing his mouse, before hesitatingly clicking on your profile.
“Let’s see..” He mumbled to the air as he scrolled past your posts, glasses slipping down his nose as squirmed in his chair. You looked really, like really pretty. You were already pretty back then but this was a new level he’d never expected. He’d realized how long time had passed until he reached your first post, he couldn’t help but scoff, midnight blue eyes lowering to the growing bulge in his sweats.
I’m getting turned on by my old crush, a real woman. My own body betrayed me.
You were not his favorite waifu nor one of his oversexualized figures, you were just the woman he was helplessly inlove with when he was in his early twenties, he couldn’t admit to himself that he got turned on by your Instagram posts. You probably get fucked almost every day by some big matcho instead of a perfect, good guy like him.
He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t give in, He wouldn’t-
“That’s it..” Ajax muttered through clenched teeth, eyes rolling back with unadulterated pleasure as he fucked his own fist, thick pearly white drops of pre-cum dripping down his fat length like a faucet, he imagined that instead of his fist was your tight pussy swallowing him whole. Do you like it rough? Vanilla? Would you scream if his cock bruised your cervix? Or even better, you’d let him impregnate you and keep you barefoot like the good little bitch you are. “Yes take my cock, gonna get this pussy pregnant and finally make you mine..all mine..” He groaned as nearly he reached his peak, hips twitching and toes curling while his trusts became progressively more aggressive, fucking into his fist as if it was an actual cunt.
“It’s–Its coming out!” With a final thrust of his hips, Ajax erupted, shooting hot sticky cum right across his stomach and the PC screen displaying your pictures, right on your graduation post, tainting that pretty smile of yours with his semen. He collapsed back in his chair, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath.
After finally calming down, he sat there slumped, a perverted grin across his face as he reached out to smear his cum across the screen, using his thumb to caress your chin. “Pretty girl..”
clueless! reader who gets notified by a new follower notification the next morning.
@ do not steal my work ! rights all reserved, no translations allowed.
synopsis: Tartaglia's taken his stunning wife (you) as his plus-one to a gala held by the Fatui. All goes well, until a Snezhnayan diplomat’s flirtation earns a laugh from you and awakens the Eleventh Harbinger’s possessive side. And you being, well... you, can't resist an opportunity to tease your husband. Tartaglia makes it clear in a low whisper that his wife’s teasing will have consequences, and once returned home, you discover just how long a night he had in mind.
wc: ~ 3.7k
forewarning: mdni, contains NSFW content after the cut. · vanilla degrading · rough sex · edging · praise · creampie · p in v · light dom. let me know if I missed anything.
no pronouns for reader are used, but they are referred to as 'wife', 'lady', and 'ma'am', as well as having female genitalia. no use of 'y/n' either.
The gala held by the Fatui was a spectacle. Of wealth, power and everything in between to disguise the greed for more that filled the hearts of the rich.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, hanging from intricately designed high ceilings. They cast a muted white light across the grand ballroom while the strings played something elegant and haunting in the background.
Nobles, diplomats, officials, and high-ranking members of the Fatui mingled all around the grand room, every smile polished and every conversation layered with hidden meanings.
You had attended plenty of formal events like these in your life.
But tonight, it was just a little different. Tonight, you were attending as the wife of the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. The Tsaritsa's personal war-hound.
Admittedly, that made things a little more interesting. Even if it was just a tad.
"You're staring."
Your husband's voice came from beside you, amused and warm. You blinked, turning your attention away from him for perhaps the third time in the last minute.
"I am not."
That smug grin on Tartaglia's face widened. "You absolutely are."
You gave him a pointed look, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact your gaze immediately wandered over him once again.
Well, what were you to do? He looked unfairly handsome tonight, and that definitely wasn't your fault.
His formal Harbinger attire suited him perfectly to a tee. A long and tailored black military uniform fitted neatly beneath a white coat trimmed with thick fur. The coat gave him an almost imposing, aristocratic presence, which was only enhanced further by the red accents woven throughout his clothes. The polished black boots on his feet reflected the low light of the ballroom.
Your husband hardly wore his official uniform, unless he was required to for business. He preferred something lighter on him that allowed him to move with that dangerous agility he was so well known for. Practical, and comfortable.
But in the rare days he did wear this masterpiece of an outfit, you could hardly get enough. So it was only fair you got eyefuls while you still could, right?
Perched atop his usually unruly orange hair was his signature red mask. It wasn't covering any part of his face tonight.
Which was, in your opinion, a very good thing. Because you quite liked looking at him, and especially his face.
"You look handsome," you told him.
His smile softened for a moment as he looked down at you, before curling into a small smirk.
"Just handsome?"
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. "Don't push your luck."
He laughed, low and pleased. The sound sent a warm little flutter through your chest.
"And here I thought you'd have more to say after staring at me repeatedly."
You lightly swatted the arm yours was hooked through fondly.
Cocky bastard.
He chuckled a little more, enjoying your reaction.
And then his eyes dipped, very slowly. From your face, to your exposed throat, and slid down to the cut of your deep red dress.
And his gaze settled there.
You glanced down at yourself.
The gown you had chosen to wear tonight was a rich, dark crimson. The colour was deep enough to resemble red wine in the low light, but vibrant enough to catch an eye whenever you moved. The smooth fabric clung elegantly to your figure before falling into a smooth, sweeping skirt that brushed the floor from the knee down. The neckline was low and flattering, but tasteful, and the fitted bodice emphasised your waist perfectly.
The colour choice, on your part, was admittedly deliberate.
You knew perfectly well that red was Tartaglia's favourite colour. And especially this shade.
Your eyes had been on him sure, but the only reason your husband knew so often was because he eyes had been on you too for most of the evening.
His hand had found your waist more times than necessary, his fingers had brushed against the small of your back whenever someone approached, and he head leaned down to speak into your ear when there was absolutely no need to do so.
He was being slick about it. But you were his wife, and you had been married to him long enough to recognise the signs.
You glanced at him as his gloved hand casually brushed against the curve of your ass.
"Tartaglia," you murmured.
"Hm?"
"If you keep touching me every time someone looks in our direction, people are going to start talking."
He gave you an innocent look, his sapphire eyes faintly sparkling with mischief. "Would that be so bad?"
"You're impossible."
"And yet you married me."
"Unfortunately," you sighed, but there was fondness in the sound. He chuckled once more, holding you a little closer as you leaned into him.
Your throat was beginning to feel a little dry, you'd been here for an hour or so but was yet to drink anything yet. And then an idea came to you.
You turned towards the tall ginger, and offered him your most charming smile.
"Since you're an absolute darling, would you be kind enough to grab me a drink, my love?"
He stared down at you.
"Buttering me up to do something for you, are you?"
"Yes," you replied shamelessly.
"And leave your side?"
You blinked innocently. "Only for a moment."
His eyes narrowed just slightly. You smiled wider, hoping he would fold and agree.
He knew exactly what that smile was for. And, because he adored you and was apparently incapable denying you anything when you asked sweetly enough, he sighed.
"Fine."
"Thank you, darling."
He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Then, with one more look at the mingling people around, he left your side.
You watched his broad frame disappear through the crowd for a few seconds before turning back towards the dancers in the center of the ballroom.
He was gone for no more than two minutes.
Perhaps less than that.
Which was why you were mildly amused when a Snezhnayan diplomat appeared beside you.
He was polished, well-dressed, and confident in the way of a man who had never been told no often enough.
“My lady,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly.
You forced a polite smile. “Good evening.”
"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you look particularly stunning tonight."
"How kind of you." You knew your husband wouldn't be too happy to hear this.
"Any man lucky enough to have you is a fortunate man."
"He is."
You briefly wondered if the man even knew you were spoken for. Though the fairly large diamond ring that sat on your finger was hard to miss and said what needed not be said anyway.
The diplomat might have not noticed. Or perhaps he was ignorant.
His lips curved into an easy smile, and his eyes lingered on you. It wasn't quite long enough to be blatantly rude, but long enough to let you know he was in fact checking you out.
"I wonder," he began, "if my lady is aware of how many people in this room are admiring your poise."
"Oh? Is that so?"
From the edge of the ballroom, Tartaglia returned from his short venture to the table of drinks with two flutes in his hand.
And now he stood, stuck in place a little over two meters away from where he had left his beloved wife.
His beloved wife.
You could feel the weight of his stare before you had even turned to look at him. His blue gaze was trained on the diplomat conversing with you by your side.
His jaw clenched at the sight, and the hand holding the two champagne flutes tightened around the delicate glass so it made a soft clink sound.
The diplomat continued on to speak, but instead of excusing yourself and moving to your husband's side, you listened.
And that was risky, because you knew Tartaglia knew that you knew he was standing right there. And furthermore, just to tease your watching spouse just a little, and because you were a terrible wife in the very best way, you let your eyes brighten just a little. Like you were paying attention to every word the diplomat had to say.
And when he said something that was perhaps meant to be a mild joke, you let out a soft, amused laugh.
The effect on the man was immediate.
His face lit up at the fact he had pulled a laugh out of you, and he looked positively delighted.
But from where Tartaglia stood, his grip tightened further around the glasses. You glanced back just in time to see the muscle in his jaw twitch.
Oh.
He was ticked. And you'd be lying if you didn't find it attractive on him.
You hid your smile behind your own gloved hand, and the diplomat, blissfully unaware of the impending danger, continued to speak foolishly.
"Perhaps, I might persuade you to join me for a dance later."
But before you could open your mouth to answer, a familiar voice spoke up from behind you.
"Viktor."
You didn't know when Tartaglia had made his way to stand behind you, but he was there as you turned your head to look. The tall ginger stood there with a smile on his face, taking a small step closer to wrap his free arm around your waist and gripping it just a little tighter.
It was everything; bright, beautiful and perfectly charming. But it was also entirely, completely, utterly not genuine.
"Enjoying your chat with my wife?"
The diplomat, Viktor, froze. He slowly looked up. And up. The Eleventh Harbinger was tall enough to be imposing even when he was relaxed. And he was considerably more imposing when he had just watched another man flirt with his wife.
The diplomat surely knew who he was. Everyone did.
Tartaglia was a man whose bloodlust for battle was known far beyond Snezhnaya. A man feared on battlefields, spoken about in lowered voices by those who had seen him fight. And those he fought never lived to tell their tale.
And currently, he was standing directly beside his wife. With a dangerous smile playing on his lips.
The diplomat swallowed thickly. He realised he may have overstepped.
"Lord Tartaglia, I-"
"Childe," your husband corrected pleasantly.
The diplomat blinked, and when Tartaglia's smile darkened a tad, the man scrambled to apologise.
"Apologies, right of course."
There was a long pause, and Viktor decided that for his safety it was perhaps ideal for him to take his leave now. He gave you a stiff little bow.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Lord Childe."
"Likewise."
And then he had retreated, quite quickly. Almost like a mouse scurrying away from a predator. That was probably wise of him. You watched him leave for a small second before turning back to your husband.
The smile on his face had dropped slightly as he made sure Viktor was far enough, and his grip on you had tightened a smidge.
You looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could manage. "Hello, darling."
His cerulean eyes dropped down to you. "Hello, sweetheart."
You tilted your head slightly.
"Did you get my drink? I'm quite parched." He held it out to you, and you gladly accepted it. "Thank you, love."
"You're welcome."
You took a sip of the bubbly drink as you observed your silent husband. And finally, unable to resist, you opened your mouth to ask him. "Are you all right?"
"Perfect."
"Are you sure?"
"Completely."
You took another sip, and then smiled. Your husband was jealous.
He stared down at you for another moment before he leaned in closer. The hand on your waist pulled you in too, and his fingers pressed into the fabric of your dress just firmly enough to let you know that his mood had not improved.
His lips brushed the shell of your ear. His voice dropped into a rough whisper that was meant for you alone.
"Keep laughing with other men like that, sweetheart, and I'll remind you exactly who you belong to the moment we get home."
Your breath caught.
And despite the obvious possessiveness and the quiet warning, the promise beneath it bloomed a small fire at the bottom of your stomach.
He pulled back slightly and you could see that his expression was perfectly composed for the benefit of everyone watching, like he hadn't said anything in my ear at all.
But his eyes held the truth.
You knew those eyes.
And you knew that the moment the gala ended, the moment you were finally alone, he would make good on what he said.
You smiled up at him sweetly.
"Is that a threat?"
His gloved hand rubbed a circle over the fabric at your waist. "No, my love." He leaned in once more, his mouth close enough to your ear to brush it once again. "It's a promise."
And with that, he straightened, and lifted his own champagne flute to his lips, resuming back to looking every bit like the Harbinger he was. Like he hadn't whispered something filthy enough to make your pulse jump in excitement.
And all because he had gotten jealous.
You took another sip of your champagne, and smiled to yourself.
It was going to be a very long night.
"Sorry, m'love, what was that?"
Your insatiable husband was bullying you. Both with his thick and long shaft that continuously rammed through your overly sensitive cunt without falter, and his mouth as he pulled apologies out of you left and right.
"'m sorry, I swear," the whine spilled from your lips pathetically, a hint of irritation at the continuous need to apologise slipping through.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your bare collarbone in acknowledgement. All while thrusting into you with long, steady strokes.
The second the two of you had returned from the gala, Tartaglia wasted no time in throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you upstairs to the bedroom.
You didn't complain, you never did. Matter of fact you enjoyed being manhandled like that, and your husband knew it too.
By now you had orgasmed more times than you could count, and despite being two rounds down and halfway through round three, Tartaglia showed no signs of tiring.
"You made me leave s'you could flirt with another man, was that it?"
You tried to let out a huff in response, but it turned into a gasp of pleasure instead as the tip of his dick kissed your cervix just right.
"Ah, fuck, Ajax..." your nails dug into his back and your toes curled on the wrinkled sheets with every rough thrust.
He let out a low groan in response, his grip on your hips tightening.
"That's not an answer, woman," he leaned down to nip at the junction of your neck. By now, you were surely littered in marks from his grip and love bites, Tartaglia was extremely proud of his work as he looked down at you.
You were too fucked out and overstimulated to think of a coherent response.
"No, no, no..." you rambled, "That's not what I was doing."
He chuckled. "Damn right, you're only my woman."
Heat pooled further between your legs at his words, something about the possession in his tone arousing you even more. He noticed that too.
"Ya like that don't ya? Being mine," he had a smug grin on his lips, watching you nod frantically in your sex-dazed state. "Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so tight..."
"Ajax," you moaned his name again. He hissed, ramming into you a little harder and faster now.
"L-love! Slow down... t'fast..." you whimpered, letting go of his neck to grip the sheets instead.
"You can take it, love, I know ya can," he replied, not letting up with his pace. He leaned down and captured your left breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pebbled peak, making you mewl out in pleasure.
One of his hands left your hip and went between where the both of you were joined together, using your oozing slick and the sticky fluids from previous rounds to work on your sensitive nub.
Your mind was blank with pleasure, you could hardly think. It felt too good. It was almost too much.
"Ajax, I'm gonna cum..." You could feel your climax slowly nearing, getting so close and unbearable until-
You whined in utter frustration as your husband came to a complete standstill. You were still full of him, your pussy clenching around his cock as if begging for him to move, but he didn't and kept you there. His hands, his tongue, everything came to a stop.
And he did it all with a shit-eating grin on his face.
You opened your eyes to glare up at him, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure.
"Why'd you stop, asshole?"
You tried to move your hips, to get any sort of movement, but he was quick to grip your waist with both hands again to prevent you from shifting, his grip equal to weight of iron.
"Tch, so impatient baby," he teased. "You can't cum yet, not unless I say you can."
You grumbled in annoyance, and he let out a chuckle.
"I can feel you squeezing around me, your pretty pussy trying to coax my cock into making her purr again. You want me that bad, huh?"
"Stop teasing me, AJ, your being s'mean..."
"Oh? I'm being mean, am I?" he leaned down closer to your face. "Who was the one that was happy to listen to another man flirting with you while you knew I was standing two steps away?"
He clicked his tongue in faux annoyance. "But I'm the mean one, is it? Oh well, you like it too, don't you, love? You like me being mean. You like me being rough. You like me jealous so I can fuck you like this, don't you?"
His playfulness was making you wetter, and his words didn't do anything to help.
"You're mine, baby. All fucking mine, you know that? This pussy, this body, you. All of you, all mine."
He closed the gap between your mouths and pushed you deeper into the mattress as he kissed your lips. It was rough and passionate, full of desire but also love. His tongue danced with yours, and he lightly nipped your lip before pulling back.
"Say you're mine, lyubimaya."
"Yours, lyubimy."
"Fuck."
And then he was pulling out of you all the way, your puffy lower lips clenching at nothing in the air. You nearly whined at the loss of him, but before you could complain, he slammed into your gummy walls, bottoming out in one go, knocking the air from out of your lungs.
A sweet moan spilled from your lips.
He gradually increased the speed of his thrusts, setting it to the same pace he had beforehand.
"Say it again, love, say your all mine."
"'m yours, Ajax, 'm all yours!"
He kissed your lips again, his finger returning to rub your sensitive clit. When he pulled back from your lips, a thin line of saliva stretched between your mouths.
"S'good f'me, baby... taking me so well, like you were made f'me... mm, perfect girl, and all mine..."
He pumped in and out of you for a few more moments before you felt that familiar fire return in your gut.
"Honey, I'm close, I'm so close..."
"Cum f'me love, cum on my cock, let me feel you." He thrusts picked up a little more pace. "Cum. Now."
His command didn't have time to settle because as soon as the words left his mouth, white hot pleasure burst through you and your fingers dug into his arms as you moaned out his name. Your body convulsed around him as he continued to thrust, riding out your climax.
He followed behind soon, his hips stuttering once, then twice before he creamed into your pillowy cunt, thick white spurts shooting out as he softly groaned.
He stayed inside for a long second, basking in the moment. He looked down at the pretty sight before him.
You looked positively debauched, claimed, marked. And you were all his.
He committed every bit of this moment to memory. Then he carefully pulled out, watching his seed spill out of you without his cock to plug it in, mixing in with your own sweet slick.
Tartaglia leaned down and gently pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You closed your eyes and melted into it, your body feeling like jelly.
He lay beside you, pulling you into his warm chest as he nuzzled into your neck and kissed the smooth skin.
"You're all mine, you know that?"
You turned around in his arms to look at him with a soft, satiated smile on your lips. You lightly kissed his nose. The curve on your lips widened as you couldn't resist teasing him just a little.
"And all this because you got a little jealous, hm?"
"He tried to sway you from me."
"He was talking."
"He was flirting."
You let out a soft sigh, lightly shaking your head. "You're impossible."
"Still married to me, though. So you love it, don't deny it." He replied easily, a smug smile on his lips.
You smile despite yourself. "Unfortunately."
His expression softened too, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. The gesture was tender and sweet like sugar.
But his next words weren't quite all that warm.
"Keep calling it unfortunate," he murmured, his mouth lingering against your skin.
You looked up at him. "Or what?"
His blue eyes gleamed with a renewed hunger as he looked over your bare body. You were exhausted, but that didn't stop the goosebumps rise in anticipation from his heated gaze. Your stomach fluttered.
"I hope you aren't planning to sleep just yet, sweetheart," he grinned as he moved up to hover over your body again, his eyes tracing over your figure beneath him.
"We've still got a long night ahead."
ʚɞ author's note //
hi sweet angels, I hope you enjoyed my first work on this platform with my favourite character ever! please feel free to leave comments and feedback, I'd love to hear from you. if i missed anything in my warnings, let me know, and I hope u have a blessed day, xx.
