Hello! This is my first SAGAU rejected! Darling fic, and first fic on this account. I hope you enjoy!
cw: slight mention of injuries
length: 1.8 k
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Heavy breaths escaped your lips in quick puffs as your feet dragged you towards a secluded meadow. As soon as you arrived, your legs gave out under you, sending you crashing to your knees.
To your surprise, no pain followed it. Looking down with bleary eyes, you noticed the thick, soft moss around you had cushioned your fall. You release a quiet thankful sigh, but try to force yourself up again - to no avail.
You were completely drained. No force could make you move now, all the wounds inflicted on your fragile human body rendering you weak.
Still on your knees. you glanced up at the sky, which was partially hidden by the large branches and leaves surrounding the area, but nonetheless, you whispered a prayer - a prayer to anyone who still held an ounce of mercy in their hearts, to allow you a quick death, at the very least.
In your tags on the drunk Childe post you mentioned writing something with him talking about The Stuff™ while the reader is asleep. Is that posted? If so, where can I find it?
BTW your blog is literally my hyperfixation rn and I've been reading and rereading your stuff for days now and you're so good???? I love it all??????
word count: 0.8K
content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, self harm (not with the intent of self harm, but it's there), implied... attempted murder? wanting to murder?
a/n: i didn't bc i thought it might be a bit too repetitive but here, just for you!! set in the same universe as this series. also thank you hehe :D
"I love you," your ajax’s face rubs against your thigh, almost purring against your skin.
his hands rest on your knees, his own resting on the floor between your legs. your silence doesn’t deter him from gazing up at you fondly, the lovesick glint in his behaviour more evident than ever.
"I’d give you everything you want," his breath hits your leg, his tone sweet like it’s been dipped in honey. "and I want to love you. you’re wonderful. I love you so much."
"not just because of the stuff from back home, either." his cheek presses against his hands, putting more weight on your knee. "I knew it was you from the second I saw you. it’s thanks to you that I’m still here, it’s you who’s guided me for all these years."
"it’s only right that I’d dedicate myself entirely to you, don’t you think?" there’s a pause, then he laughs awkwardly. "not that you’d think that. I think…" he swallows. "I think you should, though."
he’s quiet for a bit again, shifting around a little. "I know it’s selfish of me to ask for things, and I know you probably wouldn’t like me if you knew what I’d done, but…"
there’s a sigh. "I love this little world we’ve built up between the two of us. I love pretending to be your husband, I love being able to dote on you and I love helping you." another sigh, this time content. "just thinking about all of it makes me feel all fluttery." he laughs a bit. "only you could make me feel this way."
"I wish you knew your worth, though. you’re so much better than me," his hands tighten, "and yet you’re so convinced you’re not. you’re above me in every single way possible," his lips press against your knee, "so you should let me treat you rightfully."
another minute of silence. "it enrages me that there’s people in this world who don’t value you as you should be. I want to rip them apart and present their heads as trophies you’ve overcome… or just let them rot away until you forget all about them."
his eyelashes flutter against you. "you’d never like that, though. I hate it, but I can be a good boy for you. I’ll please you. I’ll be the best choice. I’ll be whatever you need."
his knees press against your foot. "behaving is so hard, you know? I want to blame you, but I can’t. it’s my fault that I’m not up to your standards, that I’m not who you need me to be."
he shifts again. "I don’t regret what I’ve done for my survival. my time in the abyss, and everything that came after that… I don’t think you’d fault me, either."
"but I’m sure you’d take issue with how I want to burn your name into my skin all over my body. weapons—tools, are most valuable with their owner’s name branded on them, right? I want you to value me. I want to be valuable to you."
"sometimes I think about ripping out my eye and presenting it to you." he laughs a little, but it’s devoid of humour. "I know it’d be gross and you wouldn’t like it, but the thought of you carrying part of me wherever you are…"
"it’s selfish, isn’t it? I just want to claim a little stake of you. I want you to own me, completely and wholly. but I can’t tell you any of this when you’re awake."
he presses his forehead against your knee, his hands having moved up further on your thigh. "you’d think I’m crazy. the other day you found my vision and delusion and thought they were christmas ornaments…" a soft chuckle escapes him. "it made me laugh, and I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to treat my stuff like it’s yours."
his hand reaches out to yours, intertwining it. "I can’t imagine what would happen if I showed you foul legacy… would you praise me for being so strong, just for you, or would you be afraid and disgusted?"
another mirthless laugh escapes him as he traces your knuckles with his thumb. "you’d probably think I’m just cosplaying, right? maybe that’s for the best. this world has so many things teyvat doesn’t, and I wouldn’t want you to be separated from them."
"but…" maybe… "I hate the way I can’t properly protect you here. danger lurks around every corner and while I’d like to say I’m pleased you trust me well enough to be your only knight, that’s not why. I just…"
he’s quiet for a long time and doesn’t finish his thought.
"I love you," he says, pressing a kiss to your knee, before picking you up and bringing you to your bed. he considers getting in with you, but decides better and tucks you in.
he switches the light off and closes the door on his way out, a fond look on his face. it stays there even when he starts thinking about a way to get rid of pests that you’d approve of.
Tagging: @streimiv, and @saekogun bc i am proud and i'm like a kid when showing something i'm happy about,,,sorry about the tag kjksjsk of.
also @streimiv has god tier brain and i will stand by this on my grave--childe is a tit man. And she's a great inspiration, in fact, this whole thing was inspired by this fic of hers. Go read it! now!
Contents: Yandere behaviour || Childe x Reader || Minor Zhongli x Reader || SAGAU || CULT!AU || Canon Divergence but still somewhat canon || I'm just making shit up to fit this AU. ||
Warnings: Yandere, Dub-con, Virgin!Reader, Suggested voyeurism, Cucking, Squirting, Creampie, Worshipping, Praise Kink, it's my first time writing for these two...please be gentle...also this is cheesy, but i'm a soft bitch.
Summary: Rescued from a certain death by none other than the very creator of his world, Childe is eager to prove where his loyalty lies.
However, some are less than happy with his newfound devotion.
∴ ════ ∴ ❈ ∴ ════ ∴
His first breath came as a gasp.
Bubbles of air collapsed at his lips. Feelings--no, sensations, that's what they were! Rushing through his battered body with the rage of a flooded river. Flashes of his demise.
He blinked once--twice, and then a third time, until his head stopped spinning and colored blurs became a single shape.
And what a shape it was.
"I must be dead..." he concluded as he gazed up, throat dry and numbed fingers grasping at the edge of your cloak,"...to meet such an angel."
Covering a smile behind the silk of a long sleeve, your fingers tenderly ran through his hair.
His eyes met yours, searching for an answer.
"I'm...Childe."
"I know, Ajax."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Baby's breath bloomed at your feet.
Thousands of questions began to stack at the back of his head, as he accepted yet another bowl of steaming soup.
Chewing on a bamboo shoot, the tips of his fingers grazed once more at the flesh of his chest. What was he searching for? Would he find anything that would confirm he wasn't crazy? That he hadn't dreamed of...
"What happened to the dragon?"
Hands resting on your lap, you sat in perfect poise across him in your little corner of the blanket.
The sun was beginning to set by then, painting the marsh with the last strokes of gold it could spare. Bathing you in the softest of glows, it wasn't until his lungs began to burn that he realized he had been holding his breath.
"There was no dragon when I arrived." Your voice rang clear, yet held itself no louder than a whisper. He almost opened his mouth to interrupt, but stopped himself as you spoke again. "I was looking for something to throw in the pot, and found you instead." Softly, such was the chance that your following words could somehow harm him, your voice came out in a mutter.
"You were...badly wounded."
You could've mistaken his eyes for the sea. They gazed into you, shining between coppery lashes as the waters rippled with mirth. "Good to know I wasn't counted as an option."
"Don't hold onto that thought." He almost choked on a tender chunk of meat, yet a chuckle crept out his throat. Swirling around the broth with a spoon you had offered, his eyes rushed once more to the food.
Without a word, you granted him the privacy to eat without an audience.
As your head tilted, a shine caught his eyes. Flake-thin medallions of opal hung from your earlobes, gleaming through your hair. Pale and cold, they flickered with all the tempers of dusk.
You were pretty.
Very pretty.
Snatching the chance, Childe could not help but admire the thin fabric of your dress. Gandering along the curve of your legs with little shame, a small cough warned him of your playful, yet reproaching gaze. Without an excuse, he offered a smirk both pretty, both arrogant and kept wolfing down your food.
A comfortable silence fell upon you. It didn't last long.
"How do you know my name?"
Your smile, while still sweet, became a little colder. There was a strange patience to your voice. A tune carried by gentle mothers and their children's endless questions. The serenity of a considerate mentor and their trying student.
"How could I not? I'd say I know you better than most."
A mocking laugh would've been his answer, but he didn't find it quite as funny anymore. Not in the sense of a joke falling flat, but a creeping incertitude that held him at the edge.
His lips curled into a half-smile, then relaxed. Then, they curled again.
"I don't have an answer for that."
"Of course you don't, love." Biting the inside of his cheek, Tartaglia could hear the small voice of his conscience, though not always present, make a very convincing point.
Focus.
How the fuck could he focus after something like that? With a voice like yours?
"After all, I don't think I could believe anyone who said that, either. But...you are safe, and your wounds are healed. Wouldn't a 'thank you' be enough?"
He made a sad attempt at scoffing, as it came out as a toothy grin instead.
"You could be a very good doctor", he quipped, before downing what little he'd left in the bowl. Relishing in your giggles, he felt nothing short of a fool for the desperate heat that grew in his flesh. When had he ever been this willing to please, this delirious to hear a laugh?
A song, a pull, came to tug at his insides again, making him stop in his tracks as he tried to find his voice. It was something physical. Something that made his muscles tense, his blood rush, his breath stop.
And all you did was cast him a knowing look.
"Who are you?"
Taking the bowl from his hands, your fingers brushed together. He gobbled up the sensation, like the glutton he was.
"An architect."
After a beat of silence, he chuckled.
"A pretty title, but it doesn't answer my question."
"What would you have me do, Ajax? His name rolled off your tongue so naturally, so casually! He found it tremendously unfair that it took all his self-control to repress the shiver that came through.
"Must I speak what I know of you, things only you would know?"
"It'd be a good place to start." He knew he was being petulant. He knew he could be childish, a liar, a rascal...
But this?--
Where you a spy, sent by the Knights of Favonius? The Qixing? The Millelith? Were you here to berate him for his loyalty to the Tsaritsa, figuring out his birth-given name by a pull of your strings?
Maybe you would bark out the name of his home town, and spit out what knowledge you held about his family as a bargaining chip?
All of the spy-play, all of the lies, the scheming-- he was much happier to leave it in the hands of the other Harbingers. And so where they, given his boundless thirst for action, but that didn't mean Childe was incapable of acting.
If anything, he was a consummate liar.
Masking his face into the textbook-definition of assurance, as he had done countless times before, it almost felt out of place when it came to you.
"Would it be proof then, to speak of your time in the Abyss?"
The smile fell off his face.
"What."
Yet, you continued. Unstoppable, perhaps even deliberately ignoring his bewildered look, the truth began to pour from your lips, steady as a fountain.
"You spent three months inside the Abyss, fighting for your life--"
There was no way you could be real. Right?
His eyes fell on your lap--There, gleaming against your hold lay the silver-edged knife. He hadn't even realized it had fallen out of his possession.
"You struggled, and I lent you a hand. Perhaps I should've not. Perhaps it was selfish of me." A small pause, brief yet bitter. "I...Know it was a chance to prove yourself. To prove to the world that you were strong." There was a certain hesitance to your voice, almost as if sharing a secret that did not belong to you.
Childe stumbled to his feet, taking a step forward.
"I could not bear to have you die. Not there. Not when...there's so much left for you in this world." After a few seconds of silence, your words came in a breathless whisper. "I'm sorry."
A gasp flew from your lips when his hands clamped around yours, making you drop the knife. Brought into a pull, you could feel the outline of every callus beneath your palm. Him, ever so charismatic, ever so witty, could only stare into your eyes with an open mouth.
Childe did not think it odd that he had fallen on his knees for a stranger. Then again, not every stranger had the power to unravel the world at their fingertips.
"It is you. Isn't it?" There was no playfulness to his words, nothing to hint at an existing doubt. It was pure conviction that dripped from his lips, to the point where he didn't even bother glancing at the dagger. Childe did not need any more proof.
He had felt it in his hand. He had hacked and slashed away with all his might at whatever the Abyss threw his way, and stood victorious. Ajax had entered the void a scared child and left a full-fledged warrior.
Thanks to you.
You were the one sung in praises by the empty halls, once in a long-dead civilization. The one drawn in their murals, depicted in their mosaics, their scripts. The one who had placed the sun by the sky, who had tied the pull of tides to a single moon. To the very same moon he confided in, the very same moon that kept him company in the cold nights. You had given shape to the soil he treaded, soothed the air he breathed.
And yet here you stood by his side, bashful for saving his life.
It all crashed down at once; His doubts, his beliefs, his utter satisfaction. A feeling that clung to his neck, hanging from his shoulders yet without constricting him. It was liberating. He wished to holler, to shout at the world for this triumph, this revered truth that only he would know of.
He was right. He had been right all along.
"You were in the Abyss. You saved me."
Your soft lips parted in thought. Oh, he realized; What would it matter if he never saw you again, so long as the sight of you was branded inside his eyelids?
"Your Clarity."
Snap-
Cold, tense, the new voice ripped apart the illusion with a whiplash that punted his heart to the far edge of the marsh.
For a moment, Childe wished that if he ignored for long enough, it'd go away.
Yet he knew that voice all too well.
Interchanging personalities at the whims of a vane, a second nature to the Harbinger, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Xiānshēng" Childe spat. The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was open minded, yes, and more patient than stone itself. But it was never out-of-line to follow the unspoken rules of Liyue's people. "Not the place it'd expect to find you."
And, to be completely honest with himself, the man's gaze almost taunted him to misstep.
As Childe glanced at the newcomer over his bare shoulder, he did not spare him more than a few seconds.
"Your Clarity," He repeated as his eyes fell on you, holding the warmth of Cor Lapis. "We should move out for the harbor as soon as we can. I'd loathe to have you sleep under the stars for one more night." Zhongli did not deem it necessary to even approach him, much less announce the Harbinger's existence to you. He gazed right into your eyes, right through Childe, as if he were not there at all.
To both of the men's surprise, you smiled, forcing Childe to stand as you rose up, seeing as he refused to let go of your hands.
He wasn't even sure what the feeling bubbling up his throat was. Something ugly, something hungry, yet all the more exciting--Yes, that's what it was, wasn't it?
This was exciting.
Taking your palm in his hand, he gently turned it around. Brushing his lips against your knuckles, his chest swelled with pride and the snezhnayan was once more on his feet.
"Well then, it seems we share a destination! Care for my company?"
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Oh, he hated it alright.
Strolling across Liyue's countryside had always been one of life's few pleasures for the former-archon. To be witness of century-old forests, of mountains that held the sky in place, of all its streams and rivers--Veins and flesh of a millennial civilization.
This was the land he had cherished with his own hands.
And the land you had molded into creation.
You were kind. You had been loving to Morax--Zhongli. Listened to every single word, comforted him when he didn't even know he was hurting inside. Taken in every single memory he could share and expected nothing in return.
He was good. He was loyal. He loved you. And you loved him.
Night had already fallen when you reached the city gates, saltwater and spices clouding the breeze. It was the smell of home, one that wouldn't change despite time, or war. As he expected, it did soothe Zhongli's temper, pushing it to a simmering mess at the back of his throat.
Did the ginger need to be that touchy with you?
Piercing the back of his head, his glower did not go unnoticed. Whether the snezhnayan had acute senses, or good damn timing, he didn't care.
He tried not to care.
"I'm sure you're tired from travelling. Why don't you come with me? I know a place where we could have dinner. My treat, of course." Of dazzling looks and smile, it was clear that not many people gave him the "no". Either that, or his obvious connection to the Fatui was motivation enough for whatever prey that had fallen helpless into his claws to accept any suggestions he gave.
Only that they weren't suggestions, as much as they were threats.
Hands laced by his back, Zhongli swallowed his resentment in a practiced fashion.
a"And what place might that be?" Polishing the edges until there was no snark to his answer, amber eyes softened as they fell on you. Reduced to trailing your shadow, you had beckoned the older man to walk by your side few times, yet met refusal for each attempt. He would not walk on par with the Harbinger.
Remaining at your back had its fair share of rewards, too.
"The Xinyue Kiosk, perhaps?"
Ugh. Seafood. All the more reason to keep that man away from you.
A soft hum from you drew Zhongli from his thoughts and he decided it was time to catch up.
"I'm not very hungry. Perhaps the two of you could go on without me?" Fiddling with the end of your sleeve--a gracious gift, weaved at a time when his Gnosis remained in his chest--your eyes shimmered under the street lights.
It only lasted for a moment, as all beautiful things do--yet it was another jewel to add to his growing collection.
Ever so precious.
"We can't have that, now can we?" Came Childe's pout.
Your shy smiles would not fool someone of his age. His voice, while undoubtedly charming to your ears, became all the more jarring to the ex-Archon. Akin to the scrape of a fork, the discordant screech of a flute; None of them could even hold a candle in comparison.
"Your body may be far more resilient than ours, your Grace," The thrashing anger threatened to come loose as the Harbinger's gloved fingers probed you, searching for a smile. "Yet, it has been an inadvisable amount of time since your last meal."
The temptation to cut off his hands grew. Grew, and grew, like a boiling pot about to spill.
"Hmm. Perhaps we could go somewhere else? I would rather enjoy what the local businesses have to offer."
"Works for me! Is it going to be the Wanmin Restaurant?" Already tugging you off as if you were no more than a doll to drag around, Zhongli found his codename suddenly fitting.
When their eyes connected, by accident or open defiance, it made him snarl.
Did he not think you untouchable? Did he hold no more respect for you as he did for that heartless Cryo Archon? He mustn't have, otherwise, he wouldn't be here, hanging from your hand like the spoiled brat he was.
Touching you. Joking with you. Playing with your hair only as a lovesick puppy would. It was revolting.
Childe had to know who you were. Why then, did he treat you like a long-lost friend? A lover, even?--the thought of it made him taste blood, biting a bit too-harshly on his tongue.
Why were you so willing to return his affections?
Zhongli knew, he knew better than anyone that you loved all your creations. That you yearned to shower them in your delight after a millennia of absence. It was only to be expected.
He had felt your touch even when you were out of this world, confined to "Earth" as you had called it, prisoner to a mortal vessel. Still able to reach out to them through means unrevealed, you had been so close, and yet, so far.
But as it came to them, it had come to him, too.
A revelation, an epiphany, all the pieces that formed this world clacking together in a single shape, a word.
Clarity.
Morax prided himself in being your most devoted, your most fervent worshipper. His prayers were the most eager, the most raw--He had awaited your arrival into this world with baited breath, watching as you broke through sky and soil in a spire of light.
Even as others came first, other vessels, other worshippers, he had known you before any of them.
You'd understand his anger, wouldn't you? Kiss it away all the better, caress him until the ache faded?
A wayward shoulder bumped against his, snapping him back to reality once again. The snezhnayan's broad arm came to pull you closer. He spat out a poor excuse.
A charlatan. A brute. A good for nothing, bloodthirsty--
Soft fingers slipped into his hand.
You sent him a sweet smile. Zhongli forgot what he was so pent up about.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
It had not been hard to find an inn. The Feiyun Slope teemed with all sorts of establishments, from teahouses to bookshops, just about anything and anyone could be found if the hour was right.
Childe leaned against his palm, feeling Liyue's night chill give shape to his breath.
Luck seemed to favour him, as the Northland Bank stood just a few sets of stairs away. But, how silly. You would not care for riches, would you? It was naive, to think you could be won over with earthly possessions.
Watching as the night's stragglers became the only presence in the streets, he decided it was time to retire as well. The day had not been long, yet he found himself more frustrated than tired.
True, walking by your side was simply exhilarating. He wouldn't--couldn't get enough of the feeling; You watched the world you created with pure curiosity, almost as if you couldn't believe that the sky you walked under had been threaded by your hands.
Perhaps he had hoped for a relentless, disdainful creator. An untouchable god that would wreck the land lest their will be obeyed. A cold, loving heart, like the Tsaritsa.
Yet, and yet, and yet, you held him with the adoration he should've professed, raw, bloody love. You knew him better than he knew himself, but wouldn't settle for blind devotion, if anything, you loathed that notion.
You wanted him for what he was. Not what he should be.
And Ajax did not understand.
He knew love, yes. Love for his family. Love for the woman who trained him. Love for the archon that named him.
But he didn't feel love for you. At least, not the same love.
It...burned.
It knew the name of every thought, every corner of his flesh. Counted each of his ribs only to steal his breath away, tearing through everything.
You knew him like no one else would.
Every time your fingers weaved together, it felt like the clasp of a lock, things made sense--he made sense once again. He felt whole, new yet the same. Was that why he could not wrench himself from your grasp, one he sought after like a starved mongrel?
He wanted to see you smile, to see you laugh, cry--but not from pain! Tsaritsa knew he would rather tear an arm than see you in despair.
No, he realized. He wanted to see you squirm beneath him.
The beating of his heart picked up.
It was not a foreign feeling, he had been with women--and men before. But, if nothing, they were fuel for his excitement. A frenzied chase for adrenaline, for pleasure, for if he could take what made his blood rush, why would he not?
But...it was simply not the same.
He...wanted you.
He--
Sobering from his reflection, a white line remained beneath his thoughts. A thread, to steady himself.
"Zhongli."
"Harbinger."
He almost hadn't heard him.
Almost.
"Beautiful night we have, don't you think?"
Turning around to rest his elbows on the balcony's railing, Childe faced the consultant's harsh stare. He towered over him, still as a basalt tower, yet the golden blaze to his eyes betrayed his cold anger.
"One upon many. Lest you own a century to enjoy them all."
Running a hand through his scalp, it was mildly disappointing when it felt nothing like your touch. Childe had no desire to loiter around your self-appointed shadow.
"I guess not all of us have that blessing, isn't that right?"
His expression did not change. Childe pushed himself off the rails.
"If you have something to say, don't dawdle. Although wasting everyone's time seems like your...specialty."
The giggle that crawled out felt like pebbles against his teeth, chattering and noisy, but got his point across. Clapping the archon's shoulder a tad too harshly, Zhongli did not budge in the slightest. He almost seemed insulted.
Ajax's eyes remained on your room's window. The lights were out.
"No, I don't think I will. 'Night, Morax~"
He would not grant him the privilege of an answer, for when the archon's ponytail whipped to the side, the Harbinger was nowhere in sight.
The snarling echo made both Ajax and Childe laugh.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Your dreams had been strange ever since you returned to this world.
Some were vivid. Things to come, things that had passed. Visions, prayers, paths not yet walked. Sometimes sleep was refreshing, sometimes it was excruciating.
Being a god had its drawbacks. Moreso when a whole realm hung upon your head.
"Are you alright, my lady?" A voice cut through the darkness of your room. Clutching onto your chest, the sharp pain in your breath evened but the remnants of something too close to anxiety clung, thick as tar.
How funny, to think you'd left such afflictions behind.
"I heard a scream." Kneeling by your bed, his hands were warm and quick to nestle yours, clashing against the perfect politeness of his tone, a familiarity that washed away all doubt. Flickering atop its wick, a lone candle spilled light into the rented room, albeit warm and weak. You didn't remember lighting it up.
Bathed in a golden glow, he was brought to a gentle, homely gleam in the dark. Yet he shone with a light all his own.
"Ajax?..."
Sighing into his hands, you pressed them against your cheek. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that you could convey your gratefulness through something so silly, but when you saw his eyes twinkle, it felt less and less ridiculous.
"Thank you, dear. Sorry if I woke you up." Pressing your lips to his knuckles as he had done several times before, you did not think much of it. Perhaps, if you had paid more attention, you would've felt his breath hitch.
"I would be sorry if I didn't."
Moments spent with you were fortunate. Moments alone with you were to be treasured.
There was never a need for useless words, for fake pleasantries, but neither for boldness or pithy. There was simply something unspoken, something that everyone yearned for. To be known. To be quiet.
And so, he acted on a thought. One he was sure you'd understand.
Leaning forward, as if guided by a leash, Ajax dropped all names but his own, yet you responded in kind. You beckoned him closer yet spoke not a word. He wondered if Celestia had fallen right into his lap.
"Ajax." Cupping his cheek with soft fingers, you feared having to shake him out of his stupor but the glaze in his eyes was enough to make you sit upright. There was a blazing edge to the calm surface-- and the realization was brought as gently as the rolling waves that caressed the harbour, their faraway lull barely reaching the window; His presence enough made the thorn in your chest dry away.
A small laugh left your lips when he kissed the hand by his cheek, head tilting to meet your skin. Trailing simple pecks, a meandering path to cross your wrist, it was puzzling dichotomy. A warrior turned to nothing but a willing-lover, not that he couldn't be both. But, wasn't it strange?
Wasn't he full of wonders?
His lips stopped upon the hollow of your neck.
"Please." An intake of breath, he shuddered in your hold. "Say my name again."
Threaded with sweet nothings, it fell right out of your mouth. You barely noticed.
His arms slowly coiled around your waist. A cage around your ribs, trappings of bone and flesh to hold you still, the beating of his own heart came as a far echo. Distant in his ears, deafened by the rush of blood, would you feel the hammering of his heart if he pressed your chests together?
You were generous, ever so generous, whispered praises spilled from his lips. His kisses became less and less chaste, as if eroding all pretenses with each. A bit more of teeth, a bit more tongue to be revealed, until he found himself suckling on a tender spot. He did not stop, wouldn't stop until you mewled his name.
Turning still when your touch ghosted over his bangs, the thought was fleeting but growing to a constant across his mind every time your fingers ran through his scalp--
Would you pull just a bit harder?
You came to seize his chin instead, noses brushing together as his breath tickled the wet patches on your skin, a growing necklace of purples strung upon your clavicles. Flickering gold, a fading glint to shine in the blue of his iris, how many had seen him this vulnerable, this private?
Was it not a joy, then? To watch him shudder in your hand?
It would've been wise to stop him, best of choices, had you been aware of how he could be swayed by a simple command, so long as it came from you.
Yet, the notion stood all the same. It easy for him to get out of hand. Very easy.
Lunging, a yelp left your mouth as you were forced on your back, making the bedposts creak at the sudden motion. Blunt nails grasped at his arms when his knee pressed against your crotch, drawing a squeaky moan that made him laugh.
"So cute, you're so cute." Brushing against yours with each word, his lips taunted you. It was far too faint to be considered a feather touch, but in this body of yours? Born anew, and starved for sensations? It felt like thousands of sparks dancing along your skin.
"Can...I?"
The ridge of his knee pressed a bit harder.
"Can I...kiss you? Properly?"
Hoisted on his hands, he had trapped you between them. You dumbly nodded, stretching it out a bit to feel the warmth of his breath against yours.
Ajax smiled and let out a short, breathless laugh, less tinged with amusement than the euphoria rushing through his body.
And then, you barely recognized him anymore.
His first kisses were sweet, yes, but if the marks on your chest warned you of anything, Ajax was not a soft lover.
Nibbling on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, he parted your mouth open with the care one opens a gift. It was unexpected, and as you naively pressed against him, hands tangling on the back of his head, his hunger began to seep through, like water through the cracks of a vase.
Tongue against tongue, warm, and loving, and a mess, he lapped as if you were salvation. Strong fingers curled around the inside of your knee and pressed it against his side, as if he could somehow feel you through his clothes. There was a faint worry he'd bruise from the way he pressed your mouths together, for not a sliver of air could slip out.
"Thank you." He'd madly mutter between sound kisses, unaware of the spit dribbling down the corner of his lips. Keeping you occupied with gentler nibbles to your jawline, you almost didn't notice how the pads of his fingers trailed down your chest.
Gauzy, soft, and undoubtedly expensive, Ajax was tempted to rip apart at the nightwear. Such a flimsy thing, he was sure it would look delectable when he tore it apart.
And, oh, right...
Wasn't it another gift from that prattling old man?
Reluctantly separating from your mouth, a gentle tug to the collar of your gown made you lean against his fingers. Even as you were blissful in his care, it still felt strange to be drowned in such praise--his, or in any of your followers'.
You wanted love, yes. More than anything.
But was this love?
All the better, he concluded when you remained quiet, trembling under his touch. He was quick to shed his gloves, and even quicker to ball up the cloth in his fist. With a swift motion, before you even realized what he was doing or much less stop him, the rip reverberated in the empty room.
He chuckled when you padded at his chest.
"Give me another kiss." He whispered against your lips. "And I promise I'll behave."
Helplessly caught up in the sight you, swollen lips and tousled hair, Ajax almost forgot about the ache below his belt.
"You love me, right?" Moonlight seeped through the window, cold against the warm glow of the flickering candle. Eyes still as your breasts spilled out of the nightgown, ripe fruits he would die to sink his teeth in. "I've been good, haven't I?" A kiss, then another, then another. Desperation tinged his voice. "Haven't I?"
Dazed, thousands of stars gleaming in your eyes, you nodded once again. Not finding your voice just yet, it was easier to kiss him quiet while doing your best to ignore the arrogant hum that buzzed against your tongue.
Running your fingers through his hair, he revelled in the attention with a soft moan that made your heart thump in your chest, and more. You wanted more.
A creak beyond the door froze you in place. Ajax seemed happier to play deaf.
Instead, he busied himself rubbing circles around a hardened nipple, popping the other into his mouth with a hardly hidden glee, betraying your paralyzed body. The telltale-creeping of embarrassment bloomed as goosebumps along your skin. He would not budge, not even when you hooked your fingers in his hair and lightly tugged, with no real bite.
"There's no one outside." Lazy even in his reassurance, darkened eyes peered up from his newfound seat. Finding him hovering above your navel, your heart jumped to your throat, but the warmth pooling between your legs began to slip out, careless of shame or rationality.
"Nobody important, anyways."
The hand hanging on your gown's tear became heavier. Before he could ruin it any further, you swatted him away, earning a playful chuckle.
"You promised you'd behave!"
"I did?" You never wanted to smack off a grin as much as you did now. Washing away the alarm from your heart with tender touches, it tore a smile from you as his head pressed against your belly. There was still reluctance lingering by the tip of your tongue, a hesitance, that spoke against his affections. Wasn't this unfair? When there were so many others vying for your affections?
But with that same thought, came the answer.
It was so...easy, to be yourself with him.
He adored you, there was not a shadow of doubt, not now, not ever. Ajax was nothing but persistent in his devotion, diligent as only he could be, for the ravenous chase of a thrill was the sole axis of his existence; He lived to fight. He lived for you.
You had given him purpose. A reason to be. You had dragged him out by the neck when death loomed at his feet, given shape to a world full of challenges for him to defeat, and yet--!
He...was so unlike the other devotees. Not a drop of sycophancy, for it was as raw as the blood in his veins--if he was not true, then what was he?
Blue as the sky you had painted, as the depths of the oceans you chiseled, an unprecedented warmth filled his glare to the brim, glinting in the shape of uneven breaths. He was hoping you would kiss him again.
Making a show of its return, the embarrassment rolled into you with the strength of a wave when Ajax's hands gently pushed you back, sliding the gown's skirt over your knees. Playfully drumming his fingers on the side of your leg, he whined for your attention.
And all you could do was curl up as it dawned on you. Perhaps this wouldn't be the last time you went to bed without any underpants.
"Feels like a dream, all of this." The Harbinger's cheek squished against a plush thigh before lacing them over his shoulders, earning a well-deserved squeak. Even as you attempted to hide your shame by clenching your legs together, his hands pried you apart, leaving your leaking, cute little cunt only for him to see.
Wrecking through your body, a shiver crawled down your spine when his warm breath washed over your skin.
Wafting away, playfulness gave into a more sincere lilt. "Would you want me to stop..." The next words were spat out, almost as an underlying regret bleeding through the holes. "You only need to say so. No questions asked."
Perhaps he had not expected it, to feel your gentle fingers upon his cheek for he started, a small twitch of his lips that broke into a nervous, lipped smile.
"I have your word, then?" The playful air to your reply shook away some of the tension in his eyes, giving a loop-sided grin only for you to see. Hands sliding tenderly along your flesh, he placed one last kiss upon your lips before lifting the gown above your head.
"Always."
Dripping with disgust, he threw the rags towards the furthest edge of the room.
Flitting, your breath rolled out of your lungs as soon as his tongue fell upon your slit. Purely vindictive against the trail of chaste kisses he had treaded from your throat to your navel, he seemed to revel in the twitching of your hips with feline satisfaction.
You could feel the curve of his grin as he laid another lick, giggling against your flesh when you tried to jerk away from his grasp. Pinning your hips down onto the mattress with just one arm, your sweet little moans were almost enough to make him burst.
Dragging the flat of his tongue all the way from your hole, your hands fumbled to grasp at the sheets when two fingers parted away your lips, leaving you to feel utterly exposed before him. Hot breaths puffed against your sensitive skin, making your feet twitch.
"You look...so--" You were sure he was simply trying to shed away your skin with just his kisses, to tear away your flesh with gentle love. "You're so good to me. Too good." Lips closing upon your flushed clit, his hands hooked around your thighs, bare fingers digging almost painfully into your flesh. He suckled loudly, muffling his moans as they reverberated on your whole body and you cried his name.
It felt like everything had crashed beneath your feet. He hoisted you up by your hips, lifting you slightly from the bed as your ass came to rest against his chest. Legs helplessly hooked on his shoulders, his arms locked around your waist, keeping you in place. He seemed no more affected by your pathetic swipes at his arms than if it were a kitten's, and only then did you realize how helpless you were.
He peered at you, azure eyes framed by the outline of your glossy skin, he hadn't moved an inch and yet had the utter gall to press a kiss against your puffy clit. Staring at you as only a zealot would.
And then, his tongue slipped inside.
Your moan would rot in his head for weeks.
Sickly sweet, he would've been happy to eat you by the spoonful. Nose pressed against the little bundle of flesh that made you squirm, it felt like your back would break in half with how tight your were arching it.
It was crude, a mocking preparation, but he ate you out as if his life depended on it, with a newfound vigor that made you wonder--just what had you gotten yourself into?
A choir, Ajax was not one for romanticisms or starlit-love, but the way you whimpered felt as if the name of every single thing he had known changed, changed not by his own will, but the lifting of a flap as it allowed sunlight into the darkness of his tent for the first time.
It felt good.
It felt glorious.
He was messy, lathering you in his spit until it trickled down to the sheets, but the way his tongue curled inside you--it was simply delicious. Warm, and rough yet soft against your walls, nose digging against your clit as his chin jerked, for a moment it felt like he was trying to slip in all of it, and when a grossly slurping sound dripped out, your pleas came as a trill. He was almost beastly, every bit as brutal as in the battlefield.
Sliding away, Ajax's lips parted to reveal his tongue, shamelessly showing you what he had pooled in his mouth before making a show of swallowing it, staring at you dead in the eyes.
He only laughed when you covered your face in embarrassment, still shaking from his love. He gently laid you on the bed, massaging the sore out of your back.
"Don't trouble yourself with that, your grace." He whispered after wiping away his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. When his fingers fumbled with the buttons, you foolishly tried to help him.
When you barely felt your legs.
Kicking off his shoes, his clothing came off by the layer. It was easier to admire the collection of memories embedded into his skin, yet you did not expect the sprinkle of freckles grazing his collarbones, all the way to his shoulders.
Taking his bare hand, it felt warm against yours. His blue eyes tethered to your lips.
"I'm not sure...why I feel this way..." Stumbling out of your throat, it was hard to harbor a storm of emotions into a single word. There were as many scars as veins to a leaf, yet they felt part of him. He'd be incomplete, a wisp of himself were they to disappear. He crawled towards you, settling between your legs as he was left only in smallclothes.
"But I think I love you." You finally spoke.
Your hesitance felt like a trembling leaf seeking refuge behind a pillar, as he murmured his response.
"I know I do."
He glanced towards the door for a split second, before cradling your head in his hands and devouring you.
At the time, you didn't know why you didn't find his furtive glances towards the threshold strange, or the fact that Zhongli had not been the first to show up by your doorstep when you screamed.
If, you even had screamed at all.
Giving your body a lovely sheen under the light, a thin film of sweat made your flesh ever so sweet, so pliable under his fingers. Yelping as his teeth sunk between the juncture of your neck, Ajax was quick to cover it in loving licks, massaging the plush flesh of your ass.
"Will you allow me?" Not allowing the bruises on your chest to fade, he sucked a new one right below your throat. "I want to make you feel good. Please?"
There's a pressure against your clit, warm and heavy. You could barely see with your head tilted back and his mouth on yours, but between your pressed bodies his flushed head peeked through, a pretty pink, already leaking warm droplets onto your skin.
His thumb glided against your clit, drawing slow circles and more importantly, the answer he wanted to hear.
"Y-yes..."
You don't think a smile could stretch any wider.
Laying you against silken sheets and cloudy pillows, you realized he was trying to distract you with soft pecks and playful nibbles to your chest, but you jumped all the same when his plump head came to slide along your slit.
Steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, his smooth skin was unsurprisingly bumpy here and there, long lines that flickered silver under the candlelight came and went, each one as different and unique as the man holding you.
Awareness did not come as a flash, but a slow acceptance.
You loved him. Unfairly so.
Unfair to you, unfair to Morax and the other archons, unfair to the steadily growing coven of disciples, unfair to every single thing you had created.
But, in this quiet room--there'd be no one to judge you.
Moaning at the sensation, Ajax slid the tip of his cock, from your dripping hole up to the drumming heat on your clit, coating himself in a mix of spit, precum and your own slick, before tapping against your entrance.
His hands ran along your thighs, tenderly, lovingly, a stark contrast to how he had manhandled you just minutes ago, and though it was supposed to help you relax, an eight-legged unease skittered around your stomach.
The ruby in his single earring swayed softly as he moved, watching with morbid fascination as inches began to disappear. You thought he'd stop and pull out, but no.
He pushed, and pushed.
The was a stretch, something that made you curl onto the sheets in discomfort yet he was quick to hold you in his arms, falling again into a trance of sickly sweet compliments and even sweeter kisses. But none of that dissuaded the fact that he was stretching out the feeling of you clamping on his cock, all new and tight f
His breath hitched as your hips bucked, before letting out a quiet, pleasured sigh.
"Do that again." Holding you by the chin, you were forced to stare at him. "And I won't be able to control myself."
It wasn't until you felt his hips against the back of your thighs, that he had shoved himself all the way in. You didn't smell any blood, but the discomfort was beginning to settle as your walls began to grow used to his shape.
After that, Ajax must've felt it was fair game.
His skin burned, beads of sweat glistened down his chest as the sifting chill did little to calm him, he pressed against you as if you were a beacon amidst the storm. Sliding out between shuddering breaths, his eyes flickered between your hole and your eyes, as if he couldn't decided which he loved more.
When he reared back his hips, you almost curled up in fear.
The gasp you gave would've woken at least half of the people who shared a hallway with you, but as soon as your hand flew to your mouth, he was even quicker to pin it away.
"No, no, please. Lemme--" Another thrust had the both of you gasping. "Lemme...hear you, yeah?" The staccato was tuned into a rhythm, and his body forced yours into a steady sway, squishing your legs against his waist. Taking one of your hands for himself, he pressed it against his cheek- it was almost silly for a second. Was he incapable of living without your touch?
But he felt less of a fool when your fingers gently dug on his cheek. He didn't care if it was a lie.
For as long as you'd let him, he would lay his life for you.
"I love you."
Clinking into something else, the discomfort gave way even though he wasn't exactly giving you time to adjust. Obscene, utterly disgusting, the squelching of his cock brought a shiver down your spine you barely repressed, and for a second you hated that it felt so good. Hated that he was being so rough, perhaps, given how overwhelming your emotions were in this new vessel. Perhaps you hated yourself, for loving it so much.
Flashing behind closed eyelids, golden eyes stared right back at you. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair that you were so quick to fall for Ajax's charms, not when the archon of this land had waited for your arrival over millenniums. But you didn't owe him anything, did you? You deserved to be selfish, you deserved it after giving your everything to create this world.
The whimpers that left him with each thrust, high and sometimes giving way into a soft laugh when your fingers clumsily dug into his back, became only sharper as he began to draw out, cock pulsing and slick, before ramming into you.
Letting your arms fall besides your head, it was simply terrifying how your energy had sapped into little more than a flicker, leaving you at the complete mercy of his love.
"A-Ajax!" The room swayed around you, even behind closed eyes when his palm rubbed along your clit. Silken walls closed on you even as this man had taken the sky and the earth from below, drinking every sound you gave. The soft petting became increasingly frantic when your hips began to buck against his.
"Say it again, please." The way the corners of his lips pulled into the softest of smiles, how his eyes gleamed with something unspoken, something alarmingly close to tears. "Say you love me again, please." His lips tapped against yours, once, twice, a third time even, before running his tongue along you open mouth. His thrusts became strangely slow, a gentle pace that pulled tighter at the knot below your belly, in contrast to how the words rushed out his throat. "Pleasepleaseplease--"
He was almost delirious in his reverence, yearning for a crumb of your approval, willing to slit his own throat just to hear you call his name, and it was then that you realized just how much you'd fucked up.
He was just like the others.
And you had fallen right into his hands.
At your silence, he would draw out your voice whether by being gentle or leaving you mute. His thrusts began to pick up again, balls slapping wetly against your backside. The bed let out a plaintive creak under the sudden motion, much like your own as a sharp pang of pleasure crackled all the way down to your toes.
The finger at your clit was even more ruthless, and your hands came to shove him away when your eyes began to cross, scrunched close.
Teeth tugging at a flushed nipple, his tongue, heavy and wet swirled around and suckled with the same delight as if it were no more than candy, but you had no doubts that he'd devour you all the same.
"You're so good to me, love." Mimicking his words as you didn't have brains enough to say anything else, not when you couldn't tell floor from ceiling, or right from left, he seemed happy all the same, relishing in your praise as a puppy would. "I love you so much, Ajax."
For being an almighty god, you sure could be stupid, you thought.
Perhaps you thought it'd be enough to keep him from eating you whole, to think that if you gave in, he'd relent. Why would he, when you were right where he wanted you?
Think of it the same way--would he ever really let an enemy escape?
The tugging at your gut increased, almost like a river trickling through the cracks of a dam, before it gives up completely and barrels through stone. Suddenly, without warning of any kind, you felt empty of his warmth when he slid out, juices splashing on the mattress.
With a strangled whimper, a clear stream rushed past your legs. He was greedy, taking your moans into his mouth just as you came, staining his thighs as he bent yours over, careless of pleas or regards.
"No-no more--" He sheathed himself with insulting ease, as your body broke into shivers. "Ajax, please."
It was your turn to plead and whine, but as he held your ankles over your chest, you feared for the worst. He wasn't going to listen, if the creeping smile on his lips wasn't enough of a hint, neither was the fact that he'd fuck the breath out of your lungs.
With a renewed vigor, as if somehow the sight of you squirting all over his lap gave him strength, he pummelled into you with wild abandon, eyes fixed on you.
Mouth slightly parted, hair in complete disarray, and sweat clinging to the elegant edge of his throat, his next words drove more fear into you than anything else, but also, an excitement that you'd regret.
"--Side." Buzzing in your ears, a white noise that was lost to the crashing of waves, he had to repeat himself until your eyes glistened in acknowledgement. "I'm gonna cum inside--" He kept babbling on, blue eyes so utterly, so completely lost in yours that you barely recognized him. "You'll look so pretty, my lady--" He added in the spur of a moment, as if he had just realized who you were, who we was. "--All stuffed in white--"
Slotting himself in the crook of your throat, finding home to his teeth as he left yet another bright mark, the smack of his hips against your smaller body would've been enough to through you out of balance, had you been standing. But here, trapped against him and the mattress, you became little more than a fleshlight, dripping wet, and begging to cum again. It was pathetic in your eyes.
"Cum, love. Cum all over me--"
But a revelation for him, divine in nature.
He was going to be yours, and yours only. Not the Tsaritsa's, not the Fatui's, not even himself.
He was going to be completely and utterly yours.
Head lolling back, weak and trembling with pleasure, your eyes barely cracked open, enough to take him in, in all his glory. The weight at your stomach became heavier, sharper, unbearably hot, until you were grasping at his wrists for purchase. It was your time to mutter his name without stopping to take a breath, and the sight of you-
Oh, the sight of you--
This time, you came all over his cock, growing still and weeping his name until he kissed you quiet, yet your body was wrecked by the aftershocks. Growing sensitive at the pace of a harsh slap, your body began to twitch as he kept thrusting, wishing you would scream just a bit louder.
He wanted to hear his name, he wanted you to call him the best, that he'd be the only one-- the only one to fuck you, the only one to love you-- and yes, it was stupid, but in the intimacy of the room, there'd be nobody to take his wish away.
And, it wasn't completely impossible, either.
You were crying, surely from being overwhelmed as he ran a finger against your puffy clit, thrumming from the attention and still slick from his spit, now cold. You kept trying to push his hands away, not being able to sputter a single coherent word, yet he loved every single second of it.
He wouldn't mock you for it, he did not think he'd have it within him to do such a thing, at least to you. But you looked so deliciously-fucked out, too confused to say a single word, too bleary and teary-eyed, it was simply adorable.
Ignoring your pleas, his thrusts became more impatient, sharper, discordant with the gentle rhythm he had tried to follow. His breaths came in sharp huffs, tingled with soft laughs that edged on such adoration that you trembled even harder. He had roughly yanked your from the waist, lifting you completely from the bed as he speared you on his cock, flesh to flesh, just as he liked it. Watching you helplessly try to grab onto him was so cute, it made him croon against your ear.
"Gonna cum inside, gonna--"
Holding you in his arms as if you weighed little more than a few grapes in his hand, he grew still, hips snapping against yours for one last time. His grip tightened, enough to leave you breathless with a squeak, as your overwrought body slumped in his arms.
Hot and thick, spurting out in heavy loads, his dick twitched inside of you, emptying himself after a few shallow thrusts. Thick as honey, you felt his cum dribble out of your hole, oozing onto the sweaty sheets.
He only smiled at you, eyes crinkled at the corners, brimming with adoration.
Laying you softly on the bed, when he lowered himself between your legs and spoke not a word, you began to worry.
There was a nothing, a numb, gentle buzzing to your limbs, as if dipped in lukewarm water after being strayed in the cold, until the blood rushes back and you finally get feeling on your fingers.
"No!" You chided him, not having the strength to reach out, he wasn't flippant, but downright disrespectful. Leaving a long, nasty lick all along your cunt, your body jerked in answer, his gleeful, if hushed laugh was all you needed.
Lavishing you on his tongue, he gulped down the mess of fluids that seeped from your cunt as if it were the best meal he had in a long time, cheeky enough to smack his lips as he finished, leaving you squeaky-clean and a floppy mess.
"I love you--"He began, but his voice wavered at the end with something you couldn't quite tell. "--Your Grace."
He trapped you under a toned arm as his head fell on the pillow besides yours, giving you the chance to look into his eyes without having to cover your face from shame.
He was pretty.
Ever so pretty.
"(Y/N). You can call me (y/n), if we're alone."
You never thought such a thing could bring such joy.
"I love you too."
Falling into his embrace, the last of wax gave away. Flame dying off with a final flicker, the room was left in darkness.
You don't think his heart could beat any louder.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Quill tapping against the inkpot, Childe sucked his teeth in annoyance. How he missed snezhnayan fountain pens, or at least, anything that didn't make the process of writing a note utter hell.
The tip of the quill hovered over the piece of parchment, but his eyes swayed to you every few seconds.
Sun's first lights were beginning to slip inside the room, threads of peach and gold to color the supposedly luxurious room into a myriad of shades, making it feel more alive than the washed out colors of the walls could ever hope.
A soft sigh from you made him smile, tempting him to return to your side just as much as a siren's call beckons the sailor. Only that the dragon by the doorway would surely take his head if he dared to make you cry his name again. Sure, it's not like he could see him through the door, but he wasn't stupid.
His only regret, not fucking you stupid in front of him.
The thought pulled a smile.
There's time.
Managing to tear his eyes from you, he was disappointed to find that the ink had splotched onto the paper, with black, thick stains to dot the pale sheet. But, oh well. Another excuse to return to your side.
The Tsaritsa would have to wait. Just a little longer.
Going off of all the content we've seen of Itto in game and the released picture of him I can say one thing for certain, this man definitely has a marking kink and bites.
“What’s that?”
You glance back at your companion. His imposing figure looms suddenly over your smaller frame, standing much closer than you had expected and forcing you to look directly into the bared skin of his chest. With a frown and silent demand to keep your wits about yourself, you jut your elbow into the hard panes of his stomach hoping to prod him into giving you some space.
It’s a futile effort and he continues to stare down at you with his scarlet eyes, red as rubies.
“What is it?” he demands, obstinate as ever.
“Bug bite,” you reply with a careless shrug. The arm not digging into his side rises to scratch at the swollen and itchy skin along the side of your neck. The collar of your shirt is pushed even further to the side as your nails rasp in the tense silence for a moment before you sigh. You nudge him more forcefully. “What is it?”
“Hm?”
“Tell me what you want or give me some space,” you request of him, exasperated with his refusal to give you room to move or air to breathe that doesn’t smell like him.
“You’ll hurt yourself like that.”
“Thanks. I’ll take that into consideration.” You wince and scratch harder at the insufferable itch. Noticing how Itto hasn’t moved even a hair’s width from where he stands, so close that you can smell the earthy musk of him, you tilt your head up and up some more to look at him. “You good?”
It’s quick when he grabs your wrist and pulls it away from your swollen, itchy skin. Quicker than you could have expected- but your partner’s speed always comes as a surprise. A man so big and bulky has no right to be able to move like that. You suppose he isn’t all talk when it comes to calling himself the “Sumo King”, as bumbling as he may be at times.
“What are-“ your words are cut off in short surprise when he bows his head to yours and his shock of snow white hair fills the frame of your vision alongside the scarlet glow of his eyes. But then his head moves down and down some more and you gasp as his hot breath fans along the exposed length of your neck.
You make an embarrassing sound when the sensation of something impossibly warm and wet slides across the heat of your bug bite. Soothing the swollen, itchy skin. Itto’s large hands anchor themselves to you, supporting your weight as you find yourself suddenly staggering backwards in what you’ll tell yourself later is surprise, but what you know in this moment is much more. His fingers grip your hip, sturdy and unmoving as you tremble beneath them. You swallow and the fine movement pulses your throat against the thumb of his other hand. With a shameful little mewl of a sound, you sink into into his iron grip, his large palms filled with a burning heat that seeps into you like warm honey.
Tilting your sagging head gently with the hand on your neck, your companion breathes hot upon you and your sigh of pleasure is quickly replaced by a yelp of pain. Teeth, sharp and unyielding, clamp into your skin, replacing the itch with a stinging pain that makes you momentarily struggle against the man holding you in place. Instead of letting up- you’re sure he doesn’t know what the meaning of such a phrase is anyhow- he doubles down. You cry out in sharp, hissing discomfort and the fucking bastard hums to himself. Pleased as all hell.
“Itto,” you grit out in warning, face crinkled in displeasure. The pressure only increases, bearing down on you harder and harder until tears dot your lashes and you make the sweetest little whimper he’s ever heard.
Surprising you once again, he immediately lets up, replacing the brutality of his teeth with gentle suckling against your sensitized skin. You sniffle and the hand cradling your throat to the side soothes you as a large, calloused thumb rasps up and down the bared column of your nape.
The heat of his tongue, lips, and gently nipping teeth makes your knees weak. Makes your eyes fill up with tears for a whole different reason from before as you make pitiful little sounds of encouragement. He takes them in stride, laving the wet muscles of his mouth along your skin over and over until you feel the drip of saliva along the soft rise of your collarbone.
With a final sharp, almost punishing nip, to your sore and no longer itchy flesh, he rears his head back. Pleased, almost smug, eyes focus on the the dark, bruised flesh of your neck. The bleeding bite that he hopes will scar and mar your precious skin. There’s no hiding the clear indentation of his canines, of the set of his teeth upon your bared nape- all encircling the once swollen bug bite now lost in a sea of bruised and darkened skin.
Those scarlet eyes of his shine with pride. Red as rubies. Red as lycoris. Red as the blood that wells from the broken flesh he’s left behind. He smiles and his lips, too, are stained in your color.
“Yeah,” he says, looking down at your wide, watery eyes and heated cheeks, “I’m good.”
I've never actually been a fan of Genshin Self Aware Au's where reader is an "actual" god, however I do love the horror elements of Genshin impact slowly becoming more and more self aware as the Archon Quests continues because the game is rewriting itself to fit you into it's narrative.
In Genshin, things like Irminsul work like a computer and the Ley lines almost work like code. Irminsul stores all of the information of the world, and the Ley Lines allow everything to run and function essentially. While not directly related to one another, the Ley Lines are what canonically allow us to fight in domains or take on those major battles again and again, they even allow us to teleport. However, I like the idea of the Ley Lines and Irminsul becoming so advanced that this technically fictional world begins to operate as something completely real, and it begins to write in the player as someone who actually exists there.
Let's imagine this world, which fundamentally is a game for everyone else, starts to act weird as you continue the story. Characters go missing to periods of time, maybe a minute or two, voice lines don't work or play randomly, teleport waypoints don't go where you want, stuff that could be written off as glitches caused by a new update. But whenever you contact support you're only told that nothing unusual can be detected in your account and are given pity compensation, usually mora.
However at a deeper level, this world is slowly evolving to something more real.
Similar to my Hades, Au, these characters wouldn't just randomly come to the conclusion that they're fictional characters, because for all intense and purpose their world is real and operates like a real world would. The world doesn't cease to exist when the game turns off, the characters don't only think and function when the player is around. They don't operate or acknowledge that they're video game characters, their actions and thoughts, while somewhat controlled by you, are never completely dictated by you. What actually acknowledges you is Irminsul and the Ley Lines, which rewrite and change the world to fit you into its narrative, and in the greater world at large.
I don't think there would be these specific moments where characters acknowledge you the player, like having voice lines where they talk about wanting to meet you. Instead, the game has changed in other ways, like Archons having voice lines about a distant God who is lost to history, quest lines that mention an old God who's unknown to most of mankind, or even hidden effigies around places you're sure you've explored before. It's as if overnight, the game completely changed, but to the characters, this is how the world has always been, even if that isn't the case.
So in a way, the characters are't self aware, but the world is, and in a way to make sense of you it fits you into it's narrative by interpreting you as a God lost to time, rewriting itself, the code of the world, for you to exist. And as a result, the world begins to become more advanced and more real. The game isn't really a game anymore, and instead it's almost like a communication device between a world that, in a wrapped around way, you created.
Where the horror elements emerge is the inherent fear that would come with your game breaking in such an intense way. I have a slight irrational fear of game glitches and out of bounds areas. I think it comes from knowing that this is something the developers don't want you to see, and so I imagine that Irminsul attempts to work the same, changing the world so subtly so you don't notice anything, but of course things get through the cracks. Maybe messages from Irminsul are found in random books or major glitches because the game was never meant to be this advanced, all being fixed immediately before you can even process it. There's also the general horror of feeling like you're going insane because no one else is experiencing these glitches.
In my opinion, Self Aware Genshin AU is really interesting from the point of view of the Game/World itself being self aware rather than the characters gaining consciousness. This makes the game become so advanced that the game is no longer simply a line of code, but something that serves as a communication device between your world and another.
Please let me know if that sounds interesting I'd love to yap more about this idea, I have so many thoughts.
Tighnari trying to flirt involves getting tipsy on red wine and lecturing for twenty minutes on how Sumeru Roses and Kalpalata Lotus are incorrectly labeled as neither fit the taxonomic classifications of either roses or lotuses.
“Listen there are hundreds, HUNDREDS, of plants that fit under the rosaceae family! But just because it LOOKS like a rose -hic- doesn’t MAKE it a rose! Why is the only known way to propagate them via division when it has both male and female reproductive organs? Where is the fruiting body?! WHERE IS- hic- IT?!”
“You suit jasmine,” Tighnari mumbles, his breath and words as sweet as his lips are red with wine. “I can smell you from a mile away. No- hush- it’s not a bad thing. How could it be a bad thing?”
He pulls deep and cool night air fills his lungs. Soothes his reddened cheeks. His soft, puffing exhales are sticky with the scent of alcohol and they fan warmly against your heated skin as he hovers over you with hazy eyes. His long ears, usually pricked with alertness, droop now- softly tilted in the dark.
“Have you ever been to Pardis Dhyai when the jasmine blooms? When twilight falls, the scent of them all sighing at once fills the air and it is so fragrant, so sweet, so lovely,” he murmurs, humming softly under his nectar sweet breath as he dips his head low. “It’s the kind of scent that you only need to experience once before it ingrains itself into your memory forever. The kind of scent that holds you captive.”
The alcohol flushed tip of his nose trails against your skin, and he breathes you in with a deep, heady inhale.
“It’s the kind of smell that makes you grateful to be alive.”
i should be used by a bottom for their own pleasure both sexually and nonsexually. use me. i'm obedient and loyal. i'll do anything you want. i'll cuddle you and keep you warm, i'll let you use my mouth to get off, i'll carry heavy things for you, i'll fuck you as hard as you need. treat me like a pet. i'll gladly be your big puppy and love you like you need
You watch Laios skin and dice the creature, carving meat off the bone. He does something to it in the pan that makes it smell incredible instead of just raw and dead.
When he’s done, he picks up a perfectly neat square. It’s still steaming, doused in the sauce he’s somehow managed to whip up in this hellhole.
He touches it to your lips, first. Let’s the heat and tenderness of it permeate your skin. You’re slow to open you mouth for him, in a daze as you half-listen to his rambling. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s making too much eye contact as he presses the morsel to your tongue. It’s exactly the right size, a nice little bite, but his fingers stretch your cheeks ever so slightly. His fingertips brush against the flat of your tongue. They feel lead-heavy, though he’s not using any force at all.
“It’s sweet, right; Isn’t that interesting?”
You’ve forgotten how to taste, the sensory details lost among the overload. You move your tongue, bowing lightly around him and the meat, wanting to ask him to finally take his fingers out of your mouth, wanting him to stay here, longer, forever.
He’s looking at you with stars in his eyes and he doesn’t even realize, can’t tell that you’re squirming, barely holding yourself back from doing… something. You’re not sure; you feel like a monster yourself, all pent up and cornered, all liable to lash out.
He’s smiling at you, going on about habitats and natural cycles. He’s petting your tongue, lightly, on the edges, nearly flush against your teeth. He must not realize he’s doing it, a motion devoid of purpose or meaning. And you can’t help it—
You bite.
Not hard enough to sever, not even hard enough to break the skin. But you can tell it hurt from Laios’ flinch, from the way his tirade has stopped right in the middle of a sentence.
You think he’s about to draw away, watch him gear up for the movement. You feel the ghost of a touch against your canines, the teeth that just sunk into him. He’s feeling them, testing their sharpness, their length.
“Oh…” he murmurs, and you’re not sure he even meant to say it, you’re not sure what he’s doing now.
When he finally (finally) pulls back, his fingers are glistening with your spit. There are red marks just beneath the knuckle where you bit him.
He seems unfazed by all of this, just picks up another piece, holds it out to you expectantly. You open your mouth for him, because what else could you do?
He watches the corner of your mouth, flinching at the faintest glimpse of your canines. He’s blushing.
Don't worry, the second drawing shows how it really is, isn't a sweetheart? <3
You can read something in the water of my dear @/andypantsx3
I made this art especially for his amazing writing a while ago
People have really forgotten that yandere is literally a horror trope. No I don't want a "green flag yandere" I want an endless pit of dread in my stomach and also a sense of arousal that shouldn't be there
Warnings: Yandere themes, explicit not SFW, dubcon, unhealthy relationships, minor character death, and forced marriage.
Word count: 5k.
Note: i have no idea how i gathered the willpower to write all this in two days. i fell in love with the concept and just… kept rolling… and here we are. 5,000 words later . i hope that you enjoy, i put lots of effort into this piece! while the reader in this story presents as afab, honestly, they’re a god so… that’s just the form they chose to take. i put the warning there still just in case.
[The First Contract index]
i.
There was once a time when the nation known as Liyue hadn’t yet been named. There was no singular Archon that ruled over the land, nor were the people inhabiting the vast wilderness fully united. Numerous beings, described by mortals to be gods, roamed the land side by side with those who chose to follow. Humans had yet to grasp the many concepts that made modern civilization possible and leisurely.
For one, there was no common currency mutually agreed upon. What valuables one would covet but not be able to gain for themselves had to be bartered for, a primitive version of a verbal contract. Silk garments, sugary sweets, exquisite jewelry — no one cared for such things as they simply did not exist. To live meant to hunt, gather, perhaps dabble in early artisan attempts, and engage with the scattered community when time allowed.
Those days were simple, if not a touch plain. And yet… compared to all the finest luxuries in the world now at your fingertips, you would choose that simpler time in a heartbeat. For what good is fragrant incense, flowing outfits tailored perfectly to your body’s measurements, diamond-encrusted hairpins, rouge pigment to dust both your cheeks and lips, if at the end of the day, you were miserable?
And you were nothing if not miserable. Bound by oath and shackled to a lifetime of another’s intricate design.
That first contract lore was so cool!!! If you’re okay with sharing it I’d love to see the more specific stuff you mentioned c: !
i have so much lore in mind for the first contract... many concepts... head full of thoughts. i’m still trying to get a hang of it, but i want to write the lore/history between god darling and zhongli like it was recounted from a book in-game! i’ve been reading lots of the in-game books to get a better understanding of how the fiction/nonfiction is presented and want to mimic it so that it feels “authentic”. please bear with me as i figure that out and tweak it!
anyways, here’s an attempt.
-
Fine literature has remained a hallmark to the people of Liyue for centuries. Just as a solid foundation is essential to construct sturdy buildings upon, so too is literature’s cultivation necessary for culture to flourish.
A young, aspiring author had gained notoriety for weaving tales heavy laden with sentiment and elegance. One day, his works had reached far enough past his quaint village to catch the attention of a knowledgeable man with unforgettable amber eyes.
The stranger lavished high praises upon the author for his works. He fixated upon one poem in particular, which detailed the union of Rex Lapis and The God of Sand, Vephar. The author could never forget the almost childlike enthusiasm in which this stranger from afar spoke of the pair. It would remain engraved into his mind until he drew his final breath was it endearing, perhaps? A touch naïve? He could not say for certain.
“I would be most interested in commissioning a collection of works relating to The God of Sand. There is no one better suited to deliver the quality I expect than you, and as such, I’m certain we can come to an agreement that will benefit us both.”
Thus the author accepted the tremendous task, prepared to face the long road ahead. A contract was drafted between the two. So intricate was its wording that even when the author’s mind faded away to age, and he could no longer recall his own children’s names by his bedside, he could still be heard muttering each condition with perfect precision.
A generous stipend was provided for the duration of the project’s start to finish. The author slaved over his desk — day in, and day out — all but neglecting his health to craft the masterpiece of a lifetime. The stranger’s articulate passion for The God of Sand echoed in his mind, driving forth his quill as if he were possessed by Rex Lapis himself.
It required ten years in total for the collection to be completed.
“The Pearl’s Luster” was its name, and it is considered by many Liyue scholars to be a timeless classic. A collection of over a thousand works dedicated to The God of Sand. Sonnets, ballads, assorted history, superstitions — it could be described as a literary triumph. Men would recite poetry from it to their lovers on anniversaries, book stands sprouting up during each year’s Lantern Rite would sell out new editions within minutes.
No work is complete without its critics, however.
In particular, a passage from a journal dated around the same time the collection was released, read:
Rarely am I ever incensed to rage in these bleak times, yet this could not be a greater insult to my person than if it tried. There is no volcanic pit scalding enough for me to toss this blasphemy in to be satisfied by. I will see to it that justice is delivered one day, this I swear.
Morax, pray to yourself, that you might find salvation in the hell that I will rain down upon you.
Scholars are divided on the validity and meaning of this firsthand account.
A distasteful joke among impious friends, perhaps? Or...
