Honestly A Catboy Feitan Is Not Something I Knew I Needed But Now I Just Want More~

Honestly a Catboy Feitan is not something I knew I needed but now I just want more~

His Obedient Pet

A Catboy Feitan x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Hybrid Feitan, Cruel treatment of the reader.

Description: Your hybrid proves once again just how unruly he can be.

All you really wanted to do was collapse into your fluffy black bed covers and take a blissful nap. Work had a way of draining every last drop of energy you had in your body, leaving no room for your own hobbies or activities. Asking for shorter hours wasn’t really an option, as you needed all the money you got from your job and raises were far and few between. Your life had shrunk in a massive way ever since moving out of your parents house with you quickly realizing just how much you had really relied on them. They lived too far away to really help you out with anything you needed and you refused to call them just to ask for money. You were alone in the world now or at least almost alone.

You entered your small shitty apartment, tossing your bag that contained your work clothes onto the floor near the front entrance that leads into the kitchen. The apartment was tiny with only three rooms, a bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The kitchen and bedroom were barely separated by a curtain you had placed over the doorway to make it feel a little more closed off.

Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling, but you knew better than to think you could just call it a day and hop into bed. You were the owner of a sweet little cat after all, and you would have to make up for being away all day.

“Fei!” You called out into your small apartment, slowly pulling off your jacket to hang it up onto the wall. You felt bad leaving him here every day with nothing to do and you promised him that things would get better, but he didn’t care for your excuses. He showed you just how annoyed he was by knocking your things over while you were gone and tearing at your curtain, but he had never been a nice cat.

You remember when your mother got him for you when you were young, growing up with him was like having a personal bully following you around. Especially when he was young, he would mock and bother you, pulling at your hair and taking your things. Even as a kitten, he was stronger than you and when you tried to get a trainer, he flipped out, not wanting to be near other people. He only got worse as the two of you grew up, while you could manage your hormones to the best of your abilities, cat hybrids were not able to cope so well with their coming of age. That’s when he began to destroy stuff out of stress and anger, stealing your clothing and hiding it from you, only to find it ripped up and stuffed in some hidden corner of the house. Your mother had brought up sending him away to a training school while he finished growing and as much as that idea hurt you, you knew it was for the best. Both you and Feitan were suffering due to his lack of control and it would only be a matter of time till something bad happened if he wasn’t taken away for a while.

A few years went past and on your nineteenth birthday, your parents brought up the idea of having Feitan come back home to be with you again. There was the small worry that he would still be a bit chaotic since he didn’t get the same amount of time in the training center as usual cat hybrids did, but he was almost fully grown by now and really at his age, should have been home with his family. You were ecstatic at the idea of having Fei come back home to you, it had been so long since you had seen him, but you were worried he wouldn't remember you or would hold a grudge. Turns out, you were right about that.

Feitan’s return was nothing like you had hoped for. The first thing you noticed about him was his demeanor, it hadn’t gotten much better from when he was younger, still brooding and dark as always. While he didn’t seem upset to be home, it wasn't much of a celebration and Feitan made it clear that he wasn’t some well trained hybrid now that you had sent him off to training school. In fact, all he had learned was now that he was free he didn’t have to hold back his urges anymore. He quickly became aggressive and pushy with you, following you around and muttering under his breath as he did so. He would stalk you as you made your way to your room after college classes and shove you down into your comforter, filling you up as many times as he pleased while spitting toxicity into your ear about how you had left him and how you better not leave him again. Heats were the worst due to how vicious and needy Feitan would become, demanding your body and attention whenever he wanted it.

You had many friends who had hybrids and this type of behavior was nowhere near normal, you were sure of that. It was the lack of training from a young age that had allowed sweet little Fei to become the menace he is now. Your parents had worried for you when you told them you were moving out and bringing Feitan with you, they knew how horrendous he could be and having him all alone in your apartment would be miserable for both of you, but you knew leaving Feitan again would be a disaster. Just like every time you tried to take a vacation for more than one night and you came back to a mess to clean up. Even after everything he had done, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him, it wasn’t his fault.

Shuffling was audible from your bedroom and after a moment the curtain was pushed aside and Feitan stood in the doorway, ears flicking in irritation.

“Did you bring food?” His cat-like eyes narrowed in on you as you sighed and turned towards him. It wasn’t often that the first thing Feitan said to you when you got home wasn’t asking you for something. He was awfully needy for how quiet and independent he was, always expecting something from you.

“No, Fei…we don’t have that type of money. I will make us some ramen, okay?” You soothed slightly, flinching when the cat hybrid scoffed in your direction, his ears twitching.

“Gross.”

He turned back around and disappeared back into the small bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

You then shuffled around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes, heating up water and putting the noodles into the pot to cook. Food choices were few and far between and you felt guilty for making him eat the same food every day, but you really couldn’t afford anything else at the moment. If only he would agree to stay with your parents while you looked for a better job. He would never agree to that. One of these days you would skip lunch at work and buy some cheap salmon to make for him, maybe that would brighten his mood up a little bit. You finished cooking the noodles and poured the chicken powder into the pot to mix with it, stirring it before pouring it into two separate bowls.

“Fei! Dinners ready.” You called out, sitting at the tiny little table you managed to squeeze into your apartment and setting the two bowls down on separate sides of the table. Dinner was silent like usual, with Feitan finishing his bowl quickly and leaving the kitchen again, returning to the bedroom. It was depressing to say the least, knowing he probably spent all his time inside your bedroom reading or doing god knows what. You were just hoping that when you went in there today, there wouldn’t be a mess for you to clean up.

Finishing your noodles, you cleaned the two bowls and put them in the sink for the next day, you were sure you’d get around to cleaning them tomorrow. Shuffling towards your bedroom and pushing the curtain open, you were met with a decently clean room, almost the same as you had left it that morning, except for one thing. The drawers to your dresser had been pulled open and left that way, a few pairs of panties tossed to the side and left a stray on the floor. Sighing and making your way over to the dresser, you began to put the clothes back in their place and push all the drawers closed until you noticed a shadow beginning to loom over you. You turned your head to see Feitan standing over your, lip raised in annoyance and tailing swishing around in aggravation.

“What are you doing?” His tone was condescending and cruel, as if you were doing something offensive somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You were used to Feitan's foul or harsh behavior, but this kind of aggression was usually saved for when he was really upset or wanted you for something.

“I’m just cleaning up the mess..”.

You prayed that he would just back up and leave you be, but you knew better than that.

Feitan’s eyes narrowed in on your crouched form and he reached down, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up.

“You always forget. So neglectful.” He was mocking you even if his tone was close to monotone, he knew how hard you tried to make life better for the two of you and it wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful, he just preferred you guilty and ashamed. His grip was very strong despite his short stature and he pulled you towards the bed without much care for the way you were stumbling and pulling at his hand.

“Fei- I’m tired..”, You pleaded with the cat hybrid, pulling at his fingers that were gripped around your arm, leaving red imprints in your skin. Feitan ignored your begging and tossed you sideways onto the bed before climbing on top of you, arms caging you in on either side. One of his knees found its way between your legs, forcing them open while the other leg pressed against your hip. Sometimes you wondered if sending him off to the training center had only made him worse, because now he felt that he had something to hold over your head and he had an excuse for his behavior.

“Don’t care, just lay there then.” He muttered and brought his hands to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it upwards. You begrudgingly lift your arms up for him, allowing the shirt to be pulled up and over your head. Feitan hated bras, he made that clear to you time and time again when he struggled to unclip them, getting more and more impatient as time went on. This time was no different as he visibly looked annoyed by the existence of the garment.

“ Take it off or I’m going to rip it.” He instructed you, way too short tempered to even attempt to remove it himself.

“You said I would just have to lay here..”

Feitan’s knee pressed up against your crotch and made squirm, slowly sitting up to unclip the back of your bra for him. The moment you pulled the last strap off your arm, he pushed your back down onto the bedding and attached his lips to one of your buds. His sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin slightly before he began to suck on it, tongue pressing flat against your hardening nipple. You knew there was no escaping Feitan when he was in heat, so you slowly combed your hand into his black hair, gripping it between your fingers. One of his hands moved from beside you to grab your other breast, squeezing and massaging whatever he could in his hand before rubbing the nipple with his thumb. He continued to suck on your other nipple while he used his thumb and pointer finger to take your nipple between them and give it a harsh tug. Your grip in his hair tightens quickly, whines jumping from your lips in response to the harsh treatment.

He switched sides, taking the stinging nipple in his mouth and soothing it with his tongue, while massaging your other tit. The assault on your chest ends with another harsh tug on your nipple and him running his tongue along your other one one more time before pulling away and beginning to work at the buttons of your pants.

“Tomorrow, wear a skirt. It’ll be easier for me.”

You can’t deny him and you know that, he will remember telling you to wear a skirt and if you don’t follow his instructions he will make things much rougher for you. Even with his short temper, he was being rather calm with you right now, even taking his time on you.

He tugs your pants off and away from your legs, moving around to get them completely off you. He’s about to go for your panties when you reach up and grab his shirt, stopping him in his tracks and earning a glare from him.

“Wait- take this off…”.

Feitan rolls his eyes slightly but bends to your will anyways and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing his toned chest to you. He’s quick to get back to what he was doing before, this time being a bit slower. He peels your panties off your body and grips your thighs, spreading your legs apart before moving down to become level with your pussy. Feitan isn’t always this into any kind of foreplay and it's a bit shocking just how much self control he is practicing.

His lips meet the inside of one of your thighs and he softly peppers it with kisses before sliding his tongue up towards your heat. He pulls away before reaching your crotch and positions his face right in front of your wet hole, chuckling softly at the way you're already completely soaked by just the small amount of foreplay. Pressing his tongue to the bottom of your cunt, he drags it through your soaked slit, collecting as much of your juices as he can before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your whines only egg him on and he quickly dives back in for more, this time choosing to simply devour your cunt instead of teasing you.

He eats you out as if you're the only thing he's tasted in days, sucking harshly on your clit and hole. He adores the way you arch your back and he forces your legs down, stopping you from closing your legs around his head. Your stomach is tightening in response to his tongue pushing itself into your and flicking at your bud. You're whimpering his name and he knows your orgasm is close. It comes crashing over you in a wave, drenching his face and mouth in juices.

The way he lifts his head up to look at you, licking as much of the cum around his mouth makes your stomach drop. He uses his shirt to wipe his face before smirking at your tired and fucked out expression, you always look so stupid and cute after you’ve cum.

“Mine.”

He comments slyly, slapping your clit suddenly and making you gasp out. His possessive streak always comes out during sex at some point. The dark hair hybrid stops and looks down at your heaving chest in thought, ears flicking slightly. You wonder exactly what he's thinking about, but it doesn’t take much time for him to let you know.

“Both legs on my shoulders, now.” He scoots closer between your legs, grabbing your calves and bringing them up to his shoulders, eyes narrowing in on your face.

“Keep them there.”

With that, he begins to unzip his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers. It's already dripping with precum and he leans forward, rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your breath hitches. He brings one hand up to grip one of your legs while the other grabs your hips to steady you.

“Keep your leg on my shoulder, or I’ll hold you upside down.”

He reaches over to your other leg and tugs it tight against his shoulder before switching back to hold the other one. In seconds, he's bottomed into you, pulling a loud cry from your lips. He's chosen the position he thinks he can get as deep as possible with and he finds success with the way tears begin to run down your flushed face. Triumph combined with the initial pleasure flows over him and his grip on your hip tightens. He leans down towards you.

“Who owns you?”

“Y-You do..Feitan..”

He makes a snapping sound with his tongue as he pulls away from you, satisfied with your answer. His cock is pulled all the way out of you again, only the tip resting in your hole before it's slammed back inside of you. The pace he sets is brutal and relentless and you do your best to tighten your legs around his shoulders.

Feitan never moans out, instead his pleasure comes out in restrained grunts. He prefers to listen to your whimpers and moans that echo through the small apartment, mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other. He’s slamming into your g-spot with every thrust and it's impossible for you to keep your cries silent, the overwhelming sensation repeating itself every second. Your stomach is already tightening again due to the impending orgasm and with how Feitan’s gritting his teeth, you know he's close as well.

You cum first, all over his v-line and thighs. He continues his pace, chasing his high before releasing his seed inside of you, filling you with his warmth. You finally allow your leg to drop off his shoulder and he releases the other one, catching his breath quietly while watching his cum drip out of your cunt onto the bed sheets. It's satisfying to him and he could watch it hundreds of times without being bored.

“Ironic.”

He reaches down and runs the pad of his finger through your pussy. You quiver in return.

“Who’s really the pet here?”

This more of this plz I need to find more of Ryo. Didn’t know I needed him til now

Ryo Kurokiba Filth

CW/TW: Fondling, light degradation, oral sex (reader giving) implied

MINORS DNI

Thinking about Ryo hearing you ask him for the first time to use you. You want him any way he wants to take you. Bound, blindfolded, sensory deprived, overstimulated it doesn’t matter. You just want him.

He smirks against your neck, “That’s what you want huh, you wanna be my fucking cocksleeve? Want me to fuck you raw until all you can think about is getting filled up with my cum?”

You whimper against him, walls tightening and so fucking wet from just his words.

Thinking about how he would grab your chin, forcing you to look at him, while his other hand moves your soft fingers to touch his hardening cock, pushing through the fabric of his pants.

“You just gave me permission to put this fat fucking cock inside you any way I want.” He’d lean forward to whisper in your ear, “Take it out.”

Your hands would pull at the waistline of his sweats, his dick twitching into your waiting hands as you try to think about how he would fit anywhere inside you. But your mouth waters and your cheeks flush and it’s getting so fucking hot in this room. Your hips would rock into him on instinct, trying to get some friction, just a taste of what he feels like against you.

Until he grabs your hips with both hands, bringing your movements to a halt. Your hand still barely wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Get on your fucking knees so I can give you what you want…. I’m gonna stuff that pretty little mouth of yours first.”

And you don’t think you’ve ever been more wet.

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT | TIGHNARI

summary: being sent to sumeru to close out a business deal for the fatui for your brother was not exactly how you wanted to spend your days. you hated the heat, you hated wildlife, and every worry you had came to fruition when you find yourself lost in the avidya forest as night begins to fall. luckily for you, a forest ranger comes to your rescue when all hope seems to be lost.

warnings: fem!reader, fatui!reader, subby!tighnari, virgin!tighnari, outdoor sex, finger sucking (tighnari), very gentle choking (f->m), kinda sex w a stranger, lowkey one-sided “enemies” to lovers (tighnari has a sharp mouth and it pisses reader off but he is totally oblivious to it)

wordcount: 6.3k

notes: omg cat's genshin debut :0 i had to do it for my pretty baby. ty lia n kat for reading over for me <33 small taglist: @kxeyas @mxnjiros @manjiroscum @dxlucs @suyacho @meowdarame @semisgroupie @tokyometronetwork

reblogs for boost v must appreciated cuz idek if this will stay in the tags cuz its my first time writing for genshin

Sometimes you wished that Pantalone still resented you as he did when you guys were children—at least then you wouldn’t be caught in this shitty situation. You scowled deeply as you looked around the thick brush of the forest, the heat sticking your clothes to your skin. You had no idea where you were in comparison to the crude map that your brother had given you before you left Snezhnaya. 

He must have done this on purpose, you hissed to yourself as you tripped over another branch, he knows you hate the heat and he knows you hate wildlife. You could stay holed up in the palace up in Snezhnaya for the rest of your life and be content, you were sure of it. 

Night was falling fast, and you had a feeling that night in the jungle would be a lot darker than any night you had braved outside in Snezhnaya—and you had always been afraid of the dark. 

Not to mention the creatures out here.

The anger toward your brother faded away, shifting into a sort of anxiety you hadn’t felt in a long time—you could hear the growls resounding through the air but you couldn’t tell where they were coming from. You fisted the vision hanging at your side, a nervous habit that you had developed a few years back. The fingers of your other hand twitched and trembled around the map, your breath quickened as your eyes danced across the lines and symbols. 

You couldn’t figure out where to go.

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one? I wasn’t planning on doing patrol in this direction tonight. You should be quite grateful that I did.” 

You turned around quick, eyes wide and hope blooming in your chest for the first time since you realized you had somehow diverged from the path. Your eyes fell upon a boy your age, or maybe a little older, standing up on the higher ground to your left, dressed in a loose garb that covered his body—dark hair cut chin length with lime green streaks, multicolored eyes and… ears? And a tail. You blinked in surprise, lips parting to speak but no words left your lips.

He clicked his tongue sharply, “Well, come on. I’ll bring you back to Gandharva Ville.”

You shook your head, “I need to be at Sumeru City,” you finally said. He looked unimpressed as he stared down at you.

“You’re a two day walk deep into the Avidya Forest from Sumeru City. You won’t get there before nightfall, I don’t even know if we’ll make it to Gandharva Ville before nightfall if you don’t start moving,” his tone was sharp, almost condescending, and you could feel your face heat up in embarrassment but he paid you no mind, only raising his eyebrows and waiting for you to join him up on that bank.

You let out a breath, trying to push away the humiliation and irritation. You couldn’t remember the last time someone took a tone like this with you—everybody back in Snezhnaya was far too scared of Pantalone to consider having an attitude with you.

“How do I get up there?” you finally asked, looking around for a path up to the ledge he was standing on.

“You climb,” he said, in a tone that made you feel the answer should have been obvious but it only caused dread to pool in your stomach as you stared at the steep hill of loose dirt. How embarrassing it would be to start climbing up only to keep slipping down. As if he could understand what was going through your head, he let out a heavy, exasperated sigh.

Irritation rose swiftly again before you forced it away, watching as he jumped down halfway, landing on a rock jutted out of the dirt. He crouched down and held out his hand to you, once again raising his eyebrows in impatience, “C’mon now, daylight is burning.”

You pushed away the annoyance, shifting your light bag on your back before moving over to below where he was waiting for you, standing up on your tiptoes and holding your hand up toward him. 

Long, slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, and you nearly shivered at the feeling of his warm skin on yours but he didn’t give you the chance, pulling you up onto the rock with a sort of ease you did not expect—he was stronger than he looked.

Your face was hot yet again as he steadied you by the waist, body pressed close to his as you tried to make sure you didn’t fall off the small ledge. You hated how he seemed completely unbothered by the proximity, and the irritation began to brew yet again. His gaze darted up briefly to where he had been previously standing.

“Up you go,” he said offhandedly, and you didn’t really have time to register what he said before his hand dropped yours and came to your waist with his other hand. His fingers pressed deep into your skin as he helped you up the side of the slope, “Go on, pull yourself up.”

“I know,” you couldn’t help but snap back.

“Well then, do it,” he said right back, voice dry.

Letting out a sharp breath you did just that, pulling yourself up and brushing your clothes off as you rose back to your feet, looking around. You had figured there would be some sort of path up the slope but alas… everything still looked the same. Giant trees, brush and more brush. Green, green, green everywhere. 

It was anxiety-inducing, really, and you couldn’t help the way your heart rate started picking up again. You forced yourself to calm back down when you felt him join you at the top of the slope. He clicked his tongue sharply again as he passed right by you, walking through the brush as if he knew it like the back of his hand, following a path that only he could see, “What were you thinking coming out here all alone?” he asked and you bristled.

“I had a map,” you bit back and you could practically see the way he rolled his eyes even if his back was facing you.

“There is no map that can accurately trace the paths of the forest. They overgrow quickly, get washed out by floods. There is a reason that the Forest Watcher’s base is right at where the forest meets Liyue’s Chasm, perhaps you should have stopped there and you would have known that.”

“I didn’t come through the Chasm,” you said, “I came from the northwest. Traveled from Snezhnaya.”

He looked over his shoulder, giving you a once over, “You’re from Snezhnaya?” he questioned but before you could answer, he suddenly looked amused, “Well perhaps you should be awarded then, I don’t think I’ve ever quite seen someone manage to go completely around the city as you did. How you managed to get off path in Vanarana to get to the jungle and all the way down south nearly to the valley is a mystery to me.”

Your body went hot as embarrassment flooded your veins, you glared harshly at him but he was no longer paying attention to you, instead looking ahead again.

“Well, my most sincere apologies for not exactly being used to forests like these. Snezhnaya is a barren wasteland if you know any geography other than this stupid forest.”

“The forest is not stupid,” he countered immediately, shooting you a narrowed-eyed gaze, “Don’t be so childish insulting something just because you don’t understand it. Even the children in Vimara are better than that.”

Your lips parted in shock at the insult but he once again paid you no mind, only kneeling down to pick some berries. “How long were you wandering out here? Do you have any food left with you?” he asked, turning around to pass some berries to you as if he hadn’t just implied you were dull and childish. 

But you were hungry, and though your blood boiled beneath your skin, you swallowed your pride, “A couple hours, and no, I ran out. I didn’t pack enough, I guess.”

“Amateur mistake,” he muttered and you shot him a filthy look that he yet again ignored as he handed you the berries. You tried so hard to push the comment to the back of your head, hands nearly shaking as you brought the berries to your mouth. 

He was watching you in a way you did not like, and just as you were about to pop the berries into your mouth, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away harshly and making the berries fall to the ground. You stared at him, a litany of curses rising to your lips.

“You don’t even know how to tell poisonous berries from safe ones,” he accused and slowly, you realized that had been a test, a cloud of rage sweeping over your mind as you took a step closer to him.

“I thought they were safe because you handed them to me,” you spit out, jabbing your fingers into his chest. He looked unperturbed. 

“Perhaps you should be more observant, lack of attention will get you killed,” he chided you as if you were a child and your body shook with barely repressed anger as he held out another hand toward you. You refused to reach out and take whatever he was trying to pass over to you but he only reached down to grab your hand, dropping another bunch of berries into your hand as he kneeled down to pick up one of the ones he dropped. 

He held it up for you to look at, “What is the difference between the ones in your hand and the one in mine?”

You stared at him, genuinely wondering if you were about to get lectured on plant life in the middle of a jungle. He waited for you to respond, your throat felt tight and your nostrils flared as you inhaled deeply, realizing he wasn’t going to move until you answered the question and knowing you couldn’t get out of this place without him. 

Your eyes drew between the two berries, “The one in your hand is more vibrant.”

“Precisely,” he looked pleased with himself, “In this forest, never trust the bright colors--animals, fish, fungi or plants.”

Without another word, he kept walking and you were forced to follow behind him, feet dragging against the brush as you chewed and swallowed the non-poisonous berries. You stared at his back, jaw clenched tight as he walked ahead of you silently, occasionally checking back to make sure you were still following. After a few moments, you decided to speak up again.

“I have a meeting in Sumeru City tomorrow evening. It’s not something I can miss… please, take me to the quickest path to the city,” you forced out the word, briefly shutting your eyes.

“No,” he spoke so firmly that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly, “You-”

“You will take me to Sumeru City,” you interrupted, tone venomous, “I cannot miss this meeting-”

“I will not,” he said again, “You’ve been wandering around the forest too long on your own, if you happened to pass by one of the withering zones, the effects could kill you, even with a vision. I’ll bring you back to Gandharva so we can make sure you’re okay, and then once we’ve determined you are, I can bring you to Sumeru City.”

“I didn’t pass by a withering zone,” you did not even know what a withering zone was, “There’s no need-”

“Do you even know what a withering zone is?” he turned on his heel to look at you, lips twisted down. You did not answer. “That’s what I thought. If you’re that eager to die, then, by all means, I will take you to the path to the city. Are you?”

Your lips remained sealed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. The prospect of death became all too real as he stared down at you expectantly. 

“Okay then,” he said after a few moments, “We’ll have to set up a camp, night is falling fast. Traveling through the forest at night is not wise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, nodding with him in agreement. He let out an approving hum as he looked around before moving a few yards to the right, shrugging his bag off of his shoulder and laying out what seemed to be a tent that he’d have to set up.

You didn’t know what to do except awkwardly stand there as you watched him set up the small tent, tail swishing behind him, ears twitching as he put together the poles that hold up the tent.

You realized you didn’t even know his name.

“Are you feeling any sort of weakness?” he asked absently as he continued to set up the tent, “Light-headedness? Fogginess? Are you able to summon elemental energy?” 

“No, no, no and…” your vision hummed at your side as you tried to summon electro, “and yes.”

“Good,” he said, “That’s a good sign. Of course, it could always hit later but…”

“How reassuring,” you said dryly, “What’s your name, anyway?” 

He looked back at you, surprised, “Tighnari… and yours?”

You told him your name quietly as he finished setting up the tent and rolling out a mat inside of it. Tighnari knelt in front of the tent, gathering up some wood to start a fire. He patted the space next to him and you bit your bottom lip, waiting a few seconds before making your way over, sitting down next to him. 

“What is Snezhnaya like?” Tighnari asked after you settled down, reaching into his bag to pull out what looked like a few bars of food and handing them to you. “I’ve never been.”

“Cold,” you said quietly, “and barren. Though I prefer it to this. There aren’t many cities either—just towns that surround the estates of the Harbingers and the wealthier people of Snezhnaya.”

Tighnari made a soft noise, closing his eyes as if he were trying to picture it, “You’ve never seen a forest like this before.”

“Snezhnaya is frozen all year round… I’m not sure if I ever saw grass before I left a week or two ago. I live in the northernmost part of Snezhnaya,” you admitted, watching Tighnari’s eyes open in surprise.

His head bounced back a bit so he could look at you, ears folding slightly at the sudden movement, “Really? That’s fascinating.”

His eyes were curiously trained onto you, and you couldn’t help the feeling that spread through you under his intense stare, looking away and down toward the small fire he had created--it was hot, so you weren’t really sure why it was necessary until he shifted to pull two oval canisters out of his bag.

“Incense,” he explained, “To keep away some of the more unwelcome critters. It’ll help you sleep better too.”

“Is it… safe to sleep out here?” you asked quietly. And you swore that you weren’t usually so cautious and nervous, but this was an unfamiliar situation for you and you did not like it. Not to mention the fact you were still thrown off from getting lost earlier and how that could have turned out.

“Hmm, I’ve done it a million times… well, not actually a million, but you know what I mean,” Tighnari said, “You’ll be okay. I’ll stay up to keep watch.”

“But don’t you need to sleep?” you asked, brows furrowed as you turned your head to look at him yet again. 

He waved you off, “We’ll make sure to get back to Gandharva tomorrow, I’ll let one of the other rangers take over my patrol. I doubt you’d be able to stay up even if you wanted to, you look exhausted.”

You frowned at the comment, looking down at yourself but Tighnari didn’t give you the chance to say anything about it. 

“You should go rest. I’ll be waking you up as soon as dawn breaks so we can start the trek back to Gandharva,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but as if he could predict it, he turned his head to look at you, ears bouncing. “Now.”

You did not like being ordered around, not at all, actually, but you supposed that you didn’t have much ground to argue with him considering your situation. You let out a heavy sigh as you rose to your feet, slipping inside of the tent and placing your bag down as you curled up on the mat that Tighnari had laid out for you.

You could hear him rustling about outside of the tent, setting up the incense, and it was your only comfort as you lay down and realized just how dark it was. The night seemed to swallow the small fire that Tighnari had lit outside of the tent.

You hated the dark. It reminded you of all the nights you and Pantalone had spent freezing half to death on the side streets of Naveretrov when you were children. And although the Avidya Forest was the opposite of cold, you couldn’t help the way your body shivered at the reminder.

You tried to push it away, squeezing your eyes shut, forcing your mind away from the dark thoughts stirring, and focusing instead on the snarky ranger that saved your life. 

—

Tighnari wasn’t all bad, you decided after tossing and turning for hours. He had a mouth that was too big and far too sharp for him to back up, but you had to admit that it was refreshing compared to the respect your position demanded from the people of Snezhnaya and those who dealt with the Fatui. No one wanted to risk the wrath of Pantalone for disrespecting you, especially when people knew very well that Pantalone would shamelessly drag the other Harbingers right into the situation and it would turn into a very misfortunate conflict for the offender.

It was nice having someone who had no idea who you were or what your position back home was, even if it was a bit jarring, having someone who would talk to you freely as if you were any other random traveler that managed to get lost in the forest.

And if you ignored the snark and snide comments, which you weren’t even sure if he realized came out the way they did, he really was a good person. He went out of his way to help you, offered to stay up on watch all night so you could rest, gave you food, shelter over your head for the night… He stayed up and told you about the forest, and the desert, stories of some of his adventures around Sumeru when he realized you weren’t comfortable sleeping yet.

He was not bad at all, really, in fact, he might just be the exact opposite. And you hated the warm feeling that started to stir in your chest when you thought of him. 

After a few moments of considering what to do, you finally rolled off the mat and crawled out of the tent, rising to your feet to brush the dirt off that had stuck to your clothes.

You looked around, trying to spot him but you weren’t able to catch sight of him at first glance. And it was dark, you were sure it was still the middle of the night. The darkness seemed to smother any and all light around you. You could feel that anxiety begin to pool in your gut again, you could feel the shivers crawling up and down your spine despite the heat.

Your lips parted to call his name but the words dissolved when you looked to your left and caught sight of his familiar figure kneeling next to a small pond several yards away, right within a clearing that let the moon shine down against the water.

Oh, you swallowed thickly when you caught sight of the tiny smile on Tighnari’s lips as his fingers brushed what looked like a sort of lotus, gloves discarded somewhere next to him. The moon reflected prettily against his eyes, tail brushing the ground, and his ears twitched as he looked up suddenly, head turning in your direction.

“You should be asleep,” he noted. “We have a long hike tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” you said quietly, feet dragging against the grass as you made your way toward him, your mouth felt dry as you drew closer to him. He looked pretty under the moonlight, you couldn’t help but note, and you supposed night couldn’t be that bad if it brought you a sight like that.

“Is the incense bothering you?” Tighnari asked, brows furrowed in concern, “I’ve noticed it sometimes doesn't sit well with foreigner’s bodies, I suppose I should have set up a different one.”

“No no,” you said quickly, “it’s not the incense. I just… I have trouble at night, especially outdoors, it brings up bad memories. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Tighnari said as he settled back down against the grass, “Understandable.”

He didn’t say anything else as returned his attention back toward the lotus. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before moving closer to him, taking a seat on the ground next to him—maybe a bit too close, you could feel his thigh brushing yours but he didn’t seem to mind.

“This is a Nilotpala Lotus,” he said quietly, and you looked down at the white and yellow lotus curiously, “It’s my favorite flower.”

“It’s pretty,” you told him, reaching out to touch the petals gently. 

“Mhm, isn’t it?” Tighnari agreed and you looked up at him, noticing how the green in his eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight. You tried to push away the feeling of your chest tightening, but you couldn’t.

You were just overtired, you told yourself, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away from Tighnari no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t help the way your mind began to wander even though you knew damn well it was wrong.

Wondering if his lips and skin were as soft as they looked, if his tongue would be as sharp as it was during the day when he was beneath you, if he would try to take control or if he’d lay back and let you do as you please.

Stop, you told yourself, shaking your head and looking away, breath just a little too quick as you turned your eyes up to the sky. You’re just tired.

“Are you okay?” Tighnari sounded concerned and you forced yourself to look at him again. You thought convincing yourself would be the hardest part but you realized very quickly that controlling yourself would be. “Are you feeling weak? Light-headed?”

You opened your mouth to agree, use it as a sort of excuse to go back to laying down before you did something rash, but the words that left your lips were not a murmur of agreement.

“No,” you said, and you felt overwhelmed as he leaned a little closer, the back of his hand pressing against your warm forehead. You wondered if his ears were sensitive, if he’d shudder beneath you when you ran your fingers against the soft fur. You wondered if his back would arch up into you and you wondered if his fingers would dig deep into your skin like they had when he helped you up the slope. “I’m okay.”

“You’re warm,” he spoke quietly to himself. You blamed the withering zone that you had been sure earlier you hadn’t walked past—it must somehow be causing you to feel this way. “Hm… no sweats or chills though. Does your body feel weak?”

But his face was close to yours now and you could barely concentrate. If you shifted forward just an inch… 

No, you told yourself again, don’t be rash.

But unfortunately, you had always been rash—neither you nor your brother were known for your self-control, a flaw that unfortunately seemed to be written in your family’s blood.

His lips were just as soft as they looked, you noted as you leaned in to press your lips against his. He let out a soft noise of surprise, your eyes were screwed shut but you knew his must be wide open as you brought one hand up to cup his cheek.

You were sure he was going to push you away once he realized what you were doing, but a sort of searing fire ran through your body when you noticed that instead of pushing you away, his hands had drifted to hover over your waist as if he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure you wanted him to.

You brought your free hand down to one of his, grabbing it gently to lay it against your body and you could feel him inhale sharply as his grip on your waist instinctively tightened. His lips moved hesitantly against yours, and despite the hard grip on your waist, you could still feel the way his fingers were trembling.

He was nervous. The realization brought you more joy than it should have but there was a sort of satisfaction that bubbled in your chest at the sight of the forest ranger vulnerable that you did not expect.

You reveled in the way he chased your lips as you pulled away, and you reveled even more in the soft whimper that escaped his lips as you dragged your lips to the underside of his jaw, trailing slow, wet kisses down his jaw to his neck.

His hands were tense on your waist, “We, ah, we shouldn’t, I-I need to keep watch, and-“

“I can stop,” you said quietly, voice muffled against his skin but his grip on your waist tightened at your words, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place and you took that as an answer. 

You shifted closer to him, lips moving just a bit more eagerly when his hands wrapped around your thighs, helping you move to straddle his waist. You brought your hand to slide around the back of his head, fingers intertwining with soft strands of dark hair. You could feel his breath hot and heavy against the skin below your ear as you continued to kiss down his neck toward his collarbone—shifting the loose garb out of the way, letting it slip halfway off his shoulders. 

His breath hitched as your tongue lightly traced the hollow of his collarbone, hands sliding beneath your top so he could feel your skin against his. His nails were sharper than you expected, pressing crescents into your skin and you nearly hissed at the sting.

Slowly, you kissed back up his neck, teeth nicking his skin with each light suck of your lips. He let out a low keen as your lips ghosted up his body, and you smiled slightly when you felt his throat bob beneath your touch. You kissed the corner of his lips softly, waiting for him to let out another soft noise as he turned his face in your direction, pressing his lips against yours yet again. 

Your tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip, and Tighnari’s lips parted instinctively for you, you cupped the back of his neck, holding him as close as possible as you deepened the kiss. Your lips slid together messily as you pressed your tongue down on his, swallowing the barely audible whines he continued to let out.

He rocked his hips up against yours and your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him grind his cock up between your thighs, pulling back to watch as he tossed his head back against the grass at the minimal friction

You brought your fingers up to brush against his cheekbone, “You’re so sensitive, Tighnari,” you murmured, watching as he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes dilated, lips swollen and pink and wet, parted as he let out quick pants. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

His eyes looked half glassy as he shook his head and you reached out, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look you in the eye, “Do you want this?” you asked quietly, waiting for a response. He nodded, but you only raised your eyebrows, trying to smother a smile when you noticed his hips bucking beneath yours again already. “Do you?”

“I do,” he gasped out, “I do, I do, I do.”

“Mkay,” you murmured, shifting down his body to unlace his pants. He lifted his head off the ground, neck craning to watch you as you undid his pants just enough to free his cock of its confines. You watched as it slapped up against his abdomen, tip flushed and pretty and leaking more precum than you thought was possible. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his tip only for a moment, listening as he let out a choked, shaky breath, as a dull thud met your ears signaling his head dropping back against the ground. 

“So damn sensitive,” you say softly to yourself as you shuffle back up his body to straddle his hips, making sure to shift your own pants off, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Tighnari was all but sobbing at this point, trying to rock his hips up into you to get any sort of relief. “I’m sure.”

And that was all you needed to sink down on his cock. You were barely able to hold your eyes open to watch the way Tighnari’s jaw went slack as his cock buried deep inside of you--the stretch nearly making your eyes roll back. 

Oh fuck, you thought to yourself, biting back a moan as Tighnari’s hips jerked up suddenly, tip brushing up against your cervix. His body was shaking and shuddering beneath yours, skin beaded with sweat and face having fallen limp to the side as he tried and failed to regain any sense of control over himself.

Your hands trailed down from his cheeks to his chest, nails tracing a light circle around his nipples, watching as his abdomen spasmed and another pretty moan escaped his lips. 

This wasn’t exactly safe, you noted absently as his slim fingers returned to curling around your thighs, holding you tight. Tighnari was loud, and while it was unlikely any other humans were around you were still out in the open but…

But you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop even if you wanted to.

One of your hands slid back up to his face, two fingers pressing against his puffy lips and you felt distinctly pleased as he parted his lips for you right away, letting you push your fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue.

Slowly, you began to rock your hips against his—the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls and his tongue swirling around your fingers had heat spreading through your body fast, you could feel his moans muffled against your fingers, the way his hips rocked up to an erratic and uneven pace to try to meet yours.

He was pretty, was all you could really think as you struggled to not let your eyes squeeze shut so you could watch him--watch how drool pooled at the corner of his lips, how his eyes were half-rolled back and tearing up, hair splayed out beneath him and bangs sticking to his forehead, skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. Your breath was heavy and shaky as you watched his ears unconsciously twitch and fold with each roll of your hips. 

You leaned forward, the fingers of your free hand grazing his left ear and the sound he let out was absolutely obscene, back arching up against you, the pace of his hips becoming even more erratic. He was trying to speak but his voice was slurred and barely coherent and muffled around your fingers, “Feels’good, s’good, ‘m s’hot, s’hot, ‘m’nna die.”

Tighnari let out a whimper as you pulled your fingers from his mouth, replacing them with your lips so you could press a heated kiss to his, swallowing each and every moan and whine that slipped from his lips, letting your hand trail down to his neck so you could wrap it around gently, only barely squeezing.

But even then, the feather-light action seemed to have him careening right over the edge, hips bucking up into you faster than you could keep up now, fingers digging into your hips as he chased his own high. Each snap of his hips had you letting out breathy moans into his mouth, had your eyes fluttering shut, had your head fuzzy and your body weak as you failed to try to retain any semblance of control.

You could feel every inch of his cock as he fucked it deep inside you--your grip on his neck and hair were the only thing keeping you stable on top of him. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, coiling tight; you could feel him moaning into your mouth, you could feel the way they were becoming faster, more high-pitched as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge, as he felt your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock. 

“Oh god,” you half-sobbed into his mouth, body shaking as you tried to meet each of his thrusts, “Oh god, Tigh-Tighnari, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m s’close.”

You weren’t even sure he was understanding what you were saying, he looked entirely out of it. One particularly sudden thrust of his hips had his hip bone grinding up against your clit and your breath caught, eyes knocking back as the unanticipated friction sent you spiraling, body tensing, crying out as you buried your face into his neck, mind numb and blank as you came all over his cock.

Tighnari let out a string of garbled, incoherent pleas at the feeling of your walls tightening as you came around him, his tail curling around one of your thighs. His hips stuttered and stilled against yours as he followed you soon after, cumming deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum with a near-pornographic moan.

You felt hot, and weak, and full. You could feel Tighnari’s cum leaking from around where his cock was still lodged inside of you, warm and sticky as it dripped down your thigh. Your body trembled on top of his, trying to hold back whimpers as his cock twitched inside of you.

His eyes were glazed over as he stared up at the sky, limp against the ground, chest heaving. So damn pretty, you couldn’t help but think again as the moon reflected against his eyes, casting an ethereal glow over his skin. His skin was sticky with sweat and his hair messy and strewn all over his face. You reached out to brush some of his hair out of his eyes, swallowing thickly as he leaned into your touch.

“We should get back to the tent,” you said quietly. Dawn would break soon, and though the prospect of the sight of him splayed out beneath the glow of the rising sun was tempting enough to make you want to stay, you knew it wasn’t an option.

Tighnari let out a soft noise as your words slowly registered, and you bit down on your bottom lip as you let your fingers brush up to his ears again, running your fingers against one of them. You could feel his chest rumble just barely beneath you, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

After a few moments, you winced as you slid off of him, helping him relace his pants and pull on your own before you shifted to the edge of the water, wondering if you could just go in there to wash up.

You hesitated when you felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. You turned around to face Tighnari again. He was leaning up on his elbows now, his top still hanging off his shoulders, watching you expectantly. He was waiting for something.

“What?” you asked, and he only looked down at the water briefly before his gaze flickered back up to yours.

“There are fungi in that pond,” he said, and you blanched at his words, “they’re rather aggressive. If you had listened to me a few hours ago when I was telling you about the forest, you would know that.”

You stared at him, remembering how he had been staring at you so expectantly, “Were you waiting for me to go in?” Tighnari did not answer your question, which was an answer in itself considering he didn’t shut up any other time. “You’re unbearable.”

“You would have brought it on yourself,” Tighnari said, “I did warn you, you just weren’t listening when I told you.”

The pleasant buzz of the aftermath of your high long gone, you scowled furiously as you rose to your feet, grabbing him by the bicep and hauling him to his feet.

“You are going to find me water to wash up in and then you will bring me to Sumeru City,” you said as you dragged him back toward the tent.

“If you want to go to the city, you will find your own way because I am taking you back to Gandharva, the more you speak the more it makes me think you did go near a withering zone.”

“What is that supposed to mean? … Hey, answer me.”

I’m not dead. This is an incredibly niche market, I know, and not what’s typical for this blog, but it’s here and it’s here to stay. L honestly deserves more x reader stuff and if I’m the one who has to encourage it I’ll be the one to do it.

Am I Invited?

Your boyfriend was an odd man.

You were quite fond of him, but the fact that he was far from normal was emphasized by anyone and everyone he was willing to meet in person. Even if those who had seen him had decided to hold their tongues, you would have known how odd he was. When you had met him, you had understood that much; you had been a highschool senior, he a year younger, and the only reason you had met him at all was because he and who you assumed was his father had come to the coffee shop in which you worked. He had worn a mask obscuring his mouth– his father had claimed that it was due to a cold– and he had not spoken a word to you, instead studying you silently as you filled the order for them. Despite disheveled black hair and dark circles, he was pretty in a quiet, Victorian way, and you had a desire to speak to him in part because of how little he seemed to get out.

He was there, apparently, to study. He had been ordered a cup of coffee with ten or so spoonfuls of sugar– you had decided his father seemed not to be the type to make that sort of joke, and so you had made it as asked. When you brought him his drink, you decided to make a move.

“Here’s your sugar with coffee,” you had teased, placing the cup and a parcel in front of him.

He had stared at you a moment, scrutinizing you, before averting his eyes.

Awkward, you had cleared your throat. “Hey, man, I’m hardly one to talk.” You had smiled. “I can barely handle coffee without a mountain of add-ons. I’m a pussy; I drink tea.” Clearing your throat, you gestured to the paper bag. “That’s on the house, by the by. I hope you aren’t allergic; those cookies are the best thing we sell.”

On your word, he pulled the pastry from the bag: a simple peanut butter cookie by all accounts. Wordlessly, he broke off a piece and handed it to you.

It took you a second to understand what he was doing. “Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.” You put your hand up in protest. “It’s yours.”

He did not remove his hand.

You glanced around, awkward before taking the piece and popping it into your mouth. You were hardly opposed to cookies. Your smile grew meak. “What,” you laughed, “think I’d give you a bad cookie?” You tried to regain your confidence. “You wound me”

You were startled by how clear his voice was. “No, that’s not it.” He pulled down the mask, taking a bite out of the confectionery, swallowing quickly, and pulling his mask back up. “I was just checking something.”

“Oh.” You nodded, confused.

He took another bite of the cookie, uncomfortably nonchalant. “This is quite a good cookie. Is it made here?”

Your eyes shift to the side, any assuredness you had gone. He was studying you. “They’re made on-site, yeah.” You resisted the urge to slide your hands into your pockets. “The recipe’s ours, too.”

“Is it old?”

“The recipe? Yeah.”

There was silence.

It dawned on you how oddly he sat. He was not so much sitting, in fact, as he was crouched on the chair, feet flat against the seat. If it was a struggle to balance in such an unnatural position, he did a good job of hiding any difficulties he had maintaining it.

You slid into the chair across from him. It was a slow day anyhow. “This is a small town,” you pointed out. “We don’t get many new faces.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“How so?” You rested your head on your hand, quietly satisfied at his letting you sit.

He shrugged. “I would assume it would be bad for business.”

“People like the atmosphere.”

“Sure,” he pointed out, “but I would imagine that you would want to have as many customers as possible.”

“Not necessarily.” You smiled. “If the atmosphere changed the people who come in would probably stop or complain if they didn’t have personal ties to the place itself. That’s not good for business either.”

“I suppose.”

Talking to him was a bit like pulling teeth. You took it he was not approached like this often. “Are you going to school nearby?”

“Why do you ask?”

You gesture to the folders stacked next to him. “I assumed that was for a project.”

He considered what you said for a moment too long. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Journalistic writing would count, I suppose.”

“Sounds like a blast. What on?”

He took a sip from his coffee. “Homicide case.”

Your smile widened. “So I was right. Which one?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.” He reached over seemingly absentmindedly, finger peeling at a corner of the topmost folder and letting it spring back into place. “It’s recent.”

“Try me.”

He stared at you for a moment, sizing you up. “Why do you want to know about it?”

“I dunno.” You shrank a bit under his gaze. “I want you to keep talking, I guess.”

He blinked, his head cocking to the side ever so slightly. “Why?” His voice was softer than before.

“I like it.” You forced confidence forward. “You have a nice voice, and I think you’re attractive, and you seem interesting.”

That was how you got his number.

The only time he ate decently was when you saw him. You knew this because he had lost weight; whenever he lost weight, it was because he had not eaten well enough or was stressed over his work or the news. He was doing both, you were sure, and though you had little time with him before he would fly back off to who knows where you were hardly about to let him leave on an empty stomach.

You saw him less than when you were younger. You never saw him much before– not as much as you had the first month you two had “been together”-- but weekends turned into single days, and once a week turned into twice a month. You never said anything. You doubted he was getting on with someone else; he did not seem the type, despite what your friends had to say on the matter. What did they know? They had hardly spoken a dozen words with him. You did not even mind much. You could survive without him comfortably enough.

He would not stop staring at the television screen. You were sure his eyes would roll out of his head from how long he paid attention to it. International news. Not that he did not know any of what was being said anyhow— he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the world at a given moment— but he never wanted it off. Even as you set a bowl of stew in front of him, he barely glanced over at you long enough to register it.

You sat down next to him, tapping him on the side of the head as you dug into your own bowl. “Soup’s up,” you tell him, turning down the television. “You’ll waste away if you don’t eat.”

“Will I?”

You smiled, taking the bait. “You will. Your body will shut down and go into cardiac arrest and I’ll have to call the ambulance to come to drag you off.”

He did not smile much these days, but something like it tugged at his lips. “Oh, you don’t say?”

“I do.” You took another bite of your stew. “And with how much work you do it’ll kill you, and I can’t afford to help chip in much for the funeral, so it’ll be a shitty little thing and you’ll be made fun of it for it by the other dead people.”

He balanced a chunk of meat from his stew, watching so it would not fall. “Oh, so there are more dead people now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you wave him off. “Of course, there are more dead people.”

“Of course.” The spoon was slid into his mouth.

“Of course.”

The spoon came out clean. With a quiet hum of satisfaction, he began to eat. “‘Ts good,” he said around his food.”

“It’s beef.”

“I’m a fan.”

You nodded. “Good. You’ve gotten uncharacteristically thin.”

“Rapid weight loss is often a symptom of high anxiety.” He swallowed. “That’s probably why.”

You took another bite of stew. “Work?”

“Work,” he confirmed.

“What is it now?”

He paused. “How to put it…” He swallowed another spoonful. “An issue’s come up and neither I nor anyone in my department quite understands what it is. It is unlike anything we have ever had to deal with in the past, and despite how many resources are being put into solving the problem, we are no closer to a solution.”

“What sort of problem?”

“That’s the question.”

You blinked. “So is it a problem or not?”

He smiled dryly. “It’s certainly causing trouble, but it’s difficult to define, seeing as I hardly know exactly what it is outside of the fact that it has seemingly infiltrated every corner of the company.”

You take another bite of stew. “You really should quit,” you swallowed. “Your job, I mean. It’s bad for you.”

He considered it. “It would probably be better on my health, but I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because it is one of the very few things that give my life meaning.” He picked up the bowl, tipping his head back and drinking the rest of its contents. “I have no other skills outside of my job, you understand; I would be essentially nothing without it.”

It was odd how he described what he did. He never told you what it was, exactly, but he always talked as though whatever it was was an integral part of himself, like it was more than just a job. You knew enough not to ask; he had always been secretive in this regard, and you knew it would do you little good to pry. “That’s not fair.”

“It is.”

“That’s not true.” You smiled. “Personally, with or without your job, I think you’re pretty great. And if it’s as big as you make it out to be, I’m sure someone else would hire you if that was what you wanted.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure that’s even something I would want,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Again, it is essentially my whole life, what I do.”

“But it doesn’t have to be is my point.” You let your head rest on the back of the couch. “You can do whatever. You’re still pretty young; the world’s your oyster.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Hm?”

“That idiom. It’s Shakespeare.”

“What, really?” You smiled. “See? You could go into etymology if you wanted.”

He chuckled. “I think I may go insane if I did that.”

“Oh come on,” you push him gently. “It’s not that boring.”

“I would disagree.”

You give him a look. “Then how come you know where it comes from, wise guy?”

“I had to read Merry Wives of Windsor.”

“Oh.”

He watched you curiously. “Why are you making a face?”

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m not making a face!”

“You are, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s just like why?”

“Oh, it was hardly by choice.” He shrugged. “My caretakers insisted. Personally, I’ve never been much a fan, but it would hardly make sense if I did not pick up on at least some of it.”

“Bastards.” You stuck your hands in your pockets, settling in. “What else did they make you read?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, all of Shakespeare–”

“The fuck you mean all of Shakespeare?”

He blinked. “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“How many things has Shakespeare written?”

“Surprisingly few.” He very quickly seemed to tally on his hands. “Thirty-seven is the generally accepted number, I believe.”

“That’s a lot!”

“I’m well aware. I didn’t enjoy it much at the time.” He settled in next to you, leaning his body against yours. “But apparently an extensive knowledge of English literature was vital to my education.”

You draped an arm across his shoulders. “Your caretakers are just the lives of the party, aren’t they?”

“I don’t believe they’ve ever attended one.”

“Look at you, being snarky.” You leaned into him. “I’m so proud.”

He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I can be snarky.”

“So has been demonstrated.”

“I can be snarky generally too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You learned very early on that when dating your odd boyfriend you were best to not ask too many questions. Not about work, not about his personal life outside of you, not even about where he stayed when he was not with you. You had never been to his place, never seen it. He went away a lot for his job, and the two of you talked a lot on the phone, but you had learned from how little he volunteered information to not ask him to divulge too much to you. In exchange, as a way of keeping things fair, he never asked too many questions about your life, never commented on your home or your loved ones unless asked, and gifted you hush money—which he never called hush money but always felt like it for how much of it you received— and offered you an unusual amount of legal expertise.

Your conclusion: your boyfriend was some sort of government worker/spy/lawyer.

“You know I’m using you, right?”

You looked up from your phone. The night of that conversation— the last conversation you have had with him, about two months ago— was on the last night of his week-long stay at your place. You had gone out of your way to make him good food before he went back to his diet of carbs and nothing else. He had been quiet all day, fidgeting more than usual, clingier than what was typical. You had asked him about it throughout the day, but he always brushed it off. “Hm?”

He had that look in his eyes that he did when you first met, that cold, calculating stare that made you feel like a patient on an operating table. He repeated the question.

You set the device face down on the table. “Use how?”

“Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t say using—“

“You should if you don’t. It’s the appropriate word.”

You leaned against your hand, elbow on the table. “What’s your definition of use?”

“Any, really.” His shrug, a mirror of your own, was stiff. “For our purposes, let’s define the term as ‘to exploit one for one’s own advantage.’”

You could play this game. You laced your fingers together, leaning forward. “And how would you define exploiting, love?”

“‘To use in an unfair and selfish way.’”

“You would consider yourself selfish?”

“Impossibly so.” He never looked away from you, then. “Incredibly so. Our relationship is largely one-sided.”

You swallowed. You knew he noticed. “How so?”

He considered the question, eyes lowering ever so briefly before meeting yours again. “Well, it’s fair to say that you’re a caring partner. You’ve provided for my every emotional need for the past five years, you’ve let me stay in your home, you’ve cooked for me, cared to remind me of my humanity.” He folded his arms on top of his knees. “And in return for your unflinching hospitality I’ve largely neglected you; I’ve refused to tell you anything meaningful about my upbringing or my work or even who I associate with. I’m not traditionally attractive— I understand,” he cut off your protest, “that beauty is subjective but for our purposes, I’m not objectively beautiful— and I haven’t so much as let you stay with me. I only spend time with you for a week every two months or so, which is ridiculous considering how long we’ve known each other. Any reasonable person would be right to leave.”

You shifted in your chair, eyes focused on your fork.

“Why are we still in a relationship?”

“I like you.” You shrugged, picking up the plastic utensil and turning it over in your fingers. “I’m allowed to like you, aren’t I?”

He exhaled, a poor imitation of a chuckle. “I can’t imagine it goes much farther than a skewed cost-benefit analysis.”

“So what if it doesn’t?”

“That’s incredibly foolish of you.”

“So what if it is?”

“Don’t you find an issue in that?”

“So what if I don’t?”

He opened his mouth, sighed, looked down. He mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You stopped your fiddling. “You’ve never offered it.”

“That’s my point.”

You inhaled slowly, trying not to get yourself riled up. “Are you trying to break up with me?”

“No.” The response was immediate.

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

He paused.

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“Do you have any idea what I do?”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “I mean,” you sighed, “I have something like an idea.”

His eyes are not cold like they were before. Dull, maybe, but that was nothing new. “Take a guess.”

“I dunno.” You buzzed your lips. “Spy? Government worker? Assassin?”

His lips twitched upwards. “Assassin?”

“Hey, you asked!”

He smiled. “Let’s go with that.”

“What, you're an assassin?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been asked to kill someone very important.”

You blinked. “I got it right?”

“No, but the comparison is somewhat apt.” He chewed on his thumb nail absently. “I’ve been tasked to kill someone very important. Because I’m killing someone very important, I’m going to be in a lot of danger.”

“Are they a dick at least?”

“I’m being serious.”

You crossed your arms behind your head, trying to relax. “If you’re an assassin, aren’t you always in danger?”

“This particular person is unusually dangerous.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“And because I’m going to be in a lot of danger, I may never see you again.” He broke eye contact. “I’m unable to get out of this, and this person has to die.”

You swallow. “Sure.”

“If I don’t get in contact with you for a month, I want you to assume that I’ve broken up with you.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

He sighed. “I can’t exactly force you to, can I? But you will be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

You looked up at the ceiling. “Am I invited to the funeral, at least?”

He considered the question. “Yes.”

You swallow again, hating the taste in your mouth. “Okay.”

He looked at you again. “Would you mind too terribly if I came over there?”

You said nothing. Your voice would crack if you did.

He took your silence as a no, standing from his awkward posture and kneeling at your feet. He placed his head on your lap, looking up at you. “May I have your hand?”

You let one of your arms down.

His hand was shaking as the fingers interlaced with yours. “I highly doubt that anything will happen. It never has before.”

Your eyes slid shut. You did not want to cry.

“I just want you to be prepared if something does.”

You never saw him again after that night.

Previous Works

a reminder

sometimes the first of the fauti harbingers, the director, need to remind those that are below him in rank who is really in charge, who holds all the cards, and who fucks their favorite little attendant the best. as a reminder.

contents: pierro x reader, childe x reader, fauti agent!reader who is afab and gender neutral, Dubcon, Power Imbalance (Reader cannot say no to their boss/leader/almost religious figure but is enjoying themselves), fingering, oral (reader to character), rough sex, biting, marking, reader is referred to as a 'beautiful' and a 'toy', reader is described as smaller than Pierro but no other terms are used, Childe Gets Cucked(tm)

a/n: this took me a really long time and has made me super anxious but fuck it. we ball. i hope you enjoy it, i'm pleased that i managed to keep going with it when my brain told me to quit.

Tartaglia, the youngest harbinger, sometimes should be brought in line. He is never egregious in his actions nor is his loyalty ever doubted but all must be reminded of their place.

That is what Pierro, the first and leader of the harbingers, believes and it is what spurred him into action this evening.

Of course he noticed how Tartagila chased you, hunting you down at any moment to tease and torment you. It was no secret to anyone else either, that you were the favored attendant of the 11th harbinger, that he touched you whenever he pleased, tugged at your clothes to catch a glimpse of you, pulled on your hair, and always had his eyes set on you the moment you appeared in the room. You were his distraction and it was becoming something of a nuisance- especially when Tartagila would pout if you were assigned somewhere else for too long or when he was denied permission to take you abroad.  

It wasn’t as clear if you returned those affections either, because even if you didn’t there isn’t a possibility you’d ever deny one of the harbingers something they wanted. When Tartaglia touches you too much or asks you a risque question, you light up red and stammer out a placating response. Pierro wondered if Childe had ever coerced you to his bed and claimed you yet– for surely if he wanted to he could have you. You had no right to say no, to him or to any of the Harbingers. 

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, standing before him. Your expression partially was hidden with the mask you wore, as all of your station did, but your lip trembled. You would never refuse Pierro, the first Harbinger and the one all answer to. When he first addressed you and ordered you to his office, to say you were terrified would be putting it lightly. The fearful and worried glances that your co-workers cast at you. The atmosphere chilled you more than any ice in the Tsarita’s realm but like a good, loyal member of the Fauti you nodded and replied with a quiet “Yes, My lord.”

What were his intentions with you in the beginning? He had wanted to punish Tartagila for getting too loud, too cocky, a reminder of the low rank he placed. To get rid of you, to harm you, or give you away as a reminder of his place in the pecking order.

But there is something to you, Pierro notes. Perhaps he can find himself agreeing with Childe’s infatuation with you, as he examines the nervousness in your form and the curve of your body even in the uniform.

His intentions change drastically the moment you stepped into his office and the door had shut close. 

Despite the nervous energy you exude, you keep your posture strict and your head lowered. Pierro sees the way your throat bobs when you nervously swallow and await what he has to say. 

He lets out a huff of air as he resigns himself to his decision and removes his elaborate cloak, draping it over his desk chair. It feels far too intimate for someone like you to witness; yet you cannot help but take in the way his clothes frame his broad shoulders and form. You would never deny that you believe him to quite handsome, and your heart beat quickens at the thought. 

He settles behind his desk, hands clasped over one another, and his visible eye not covered by the mask is as cold as the never melting snow. 

“You are trembling, like a petrified rabbit.” 

You swallow a yelp that threatened to escape and came out only as the smallest of squeaks that undoubtedly he picked up on– indeed you were like prey. “I am sorry, Lord Harbinger.” You manage out and he is slightly impressed by your ability to keep your voice as even as you did.

“No need,” He takes in your form and you shiver, feeling the way he studies you, thinking him to be scowling and not imagining what he wants to do to you first. “You are right to fear me. It shows you know your place.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” You wince at how fast the words tumbled out of your mouth. 

“There are others who would be… in need of a reminder.”

You blink, confused before he beckons to you with a flick of his hand. “Come here.”

You are breathing hard as you approach his desk, closer to him than you or any of your comrades have ever been to the director. Your steps are tentative and cautious, and you stop just before his desk but he beckons you again, a harsher, irritated, gesture that makes fear crawl through every nerve and you stumble forward. 

He is satisfied when you are standing right in front of him and his chair. Your posture is straight as possible and it feels like your heart is threatening to burst. Despite that you stand over him, the aura that surrounds him makes you feel impossibly small. 

“Tartaglia. You are often assigned to him, correct?”

There is a slight tilt to his lips as he watches you stiffen, watches you react as you panic. You believed you were to be punished for fraternization (albeit unwillingly, you are simply a loyal and dutiful attendant to the younger harbinger)

“I-”

“The Childe is so easily distracted by you,” Pierro says and while you dare not make eye contact with him, his gaze is starting to make you feel heat in a way that you should not in this frozen land, not in front of the first of the harbingers. “I believe… I understand why, now.” 

Your mind can’t process the words he just spoke, all fog and heavy until you feel a large, warm hand slide over the fabric of your uniform. You feel like you’re falling off the tallest peak, You think it’s a trick of your mind until you look to see his hand around your hip, sliding along your curves.

“You will not deny me.” He speaks it as a question but every aspect of him tells you it’s a demand. You nod your head vigorously.

“Of course, Lord Harbinger. I would never.”

He hums in agreement, a deep sound from his chest, and he’s tugging you closer to move you to him until you’re touching his knees. He manipulates you with ease, positioning you until you are sitting across his lap. You don’t dare to touch him so your hands sit idly before he pulls them to his shoulders. 

You are not sure if anyone has ever been this close to Pierro and lived to speak of it. You’re not sure if you will live to speak of it. 

Where you are unsure and timid, Pierro is confident in what he wants. His hand cups at your hips to pull you closer onto his lap and his other hand grips your chin so that you look at him.

“I do not desire a mere object, so do give me your best efforts.” His hand then moves to slip the mask off your face, showing him your nervous eyes and flushed cheeks. 

For a moment, you worry if your bare face is not to his liking; insecurity flaring up inside you. But then he pulls your chin in and presses his lips against yours. You stall but only for a moment, remembering his words and parting your lips to let his tongue inside, to let him kiss you as he pleases.

You would never think that you would be in the lap of the First of the harbingers, kissing him and tasting his tongue; which you found to taste sweet and you leaned into him to have more. You had thought if he was going to use you as Tartaglia does, he would simply have you over his desk or against the wall and would not care to caress or kiss you. But instead, he is sensual with his touches and seems more interested in making you melt under him. 

You fear you are a participant in some sort of punishment but the way he handles you is more of a reward than anything else. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and you whimper into his mouth when he angles your head to the side to have more access to you.

When he pulls away, you are flushed and heaving; your lips swollen and wet. His expression is dark with desire as they watch how helpless you become. 

You try to form words, to say something, but all that comes out is panting. His hand slides down your chest, fingers methodically working at the buttons and clasps of your uniform’s shirt. The moment there is enough give for him too, he slides his hand into your shirt, easily slips under your undergarments, and cups at your breast. Although gloved, the mixture of the chill air and the heat from his hand makes your back arch and thighs squeeze together for just a bit of relief. 

His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nipple that sends heat throughout your body before he is opening more of your shirt until your chest is bare to him. The cold air and stimulation have your nipples hard and he returns to toying with them just a bit longer before he removes his hand.

Pierro holds his hand up to you. “Take them off,” he orders and you obey with a quick nod for you do not think you could make any words come from your throat right now. You slide the glove off his hand and before you even know what to do with it,  his thumb is pressing down at your lip to make you open, and then his fingers are in your mouth.

His gaze on you is intense and he is mesmerized by the way your spit coats his thick fingers. You make a mental note of his pleased hum and lick and suck on the digits in a deliberate way to show him just how well you would take care of other parts of him. 

And, clearly, this was a correct move because his lips part ever so slightly and his fingers push deeper into your hot mouth. You tighten your lips around them and suck, fluttering eyelashes as you dare to look up at him. A Squeeze on your waist and the throb of pressure beneath you tells you it is to his liking. 

To know that he desires you makes you feel hot all over, makes you ache. You would never believe yourself to be worthy– and still, you do not– but you do not wish to disappoint him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spittle following in a trail from your lips. His hand that had been holding your waist moves up your back, causing you to lean back and he is soon pulling at the buttons of your pants. He is far less careful and slow than he was with your shirt and you can feel the thick pressure that is pressing hard against your ass with every movement you make. 

As soon as he is granted access, you find yourself gasping out a plea, for his large hand engulfs your cunt and is harshly palming and rubbing at you over your undergarments. He watches your expression so intently, as you gasp and writhe and squirm on his lap. You feel your hand that is around his shoulder get tangled in his hair, and you babble out an apology that comes out not nearly coherent enough– especially when his thick finger curls and presses so easily against you over the thin fabric that is soaked with your slick.

“So wet,” he comments, tone low and husky as he watches how you pant. “Aren’t you chilly?” You have no idea how you could be when he is making you feel this hot all over. “Spread your legs.”

You do as you are told and are rewarded by him slipping under the fabric that covers you and teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You whine, you roll your hips against his hand shamefully but he does not seem to mind. Instead, the hand supporting you move to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. His mouth captures your cries so hungrily as he sinks his thick finger inside your heat. 

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out of you is so, so loud to you– despite your loud panting and whines and the sound of Pierro working against your mouth. He bites and sucks at your lower lip and you’re lost in the sensations he gives you with each deep thrust of his finger. 

“What a good little thing you are.” He murmurs against your lips and a lewd moan escapes you, the loudest noise you’ve made. And he is so entertained by your reaction to his praise, another slight curve to his lips, and more so when he slides a second finger in and the sting brings tears to your eyes.

“Does Tartgalia bring you this much pleasure?” He asks, his pace increasing until he is thrusting in and out of you at an unbelievable pace, palm occasionally pressing down on your swollen clit that pulses pleasure through you. “Has he ever made you feel this good?”

“N-no, no–” You gasp for air, lungs empty and your heart race as you find yourself hurtling towards your peak. “No, never– Not like you, My Lord-” One hard press of his hand has you breaking apart and he watches with rapt interest the way your moans escape and your eyes shut and your head falls back— the expressions you make are wonderful indeed, he thinks. His fingers slow their thrusting as you ride your high out, clenching so tight around him and coating his hand and thighs with your arousal. But he doesn’t seem the slightest put off by this, pleased with how you fall apart in his grasp and the control he has over you. 

Although it seems so… wrong to you. You are panting, feeling the aftermath of such an intense orgasm, and are being held by a man so high in power it’s dizzying. You can feel how hard he is and the first emotion to rise is guilt. Shame. 

“My… my Lord Harbinger-“ you are so breathless, the words are hard to form. “May I please submit a request?”

Pierro lets out a chuckle, a deep rumbling noise, at your professionalism despite your state. He leans into you, casting hot breath over your lips when he asks; “What is it?”

“Let me bring you pleasure,” Your hand grips his shirt, such a bold move from you but you need to steady yourself. “W-with my mouth- on my knees. Please.” It wasn’t right, you think, he should be using you and you should be pleasing him.

“So eager.” He said before kissing your lips once more, his palm rubbing between your legs just a bit more before he releases you. “Granted.”

You feel unsteady and your legs wobble as soon as you stand and the way his hands stabilize you by holding onto you makes you yearn for him- year to please him. So you are quick to kneel down to him and make your way between his legs.

He leans back in his chair and is pleased at the sight of you working at his pants— on your knees, desperate to have him in your mouth, to please him and worship him. Pierro is not one to display his desire so blatantly, but still he groans when he feels your hands touch his aching cock, hard and wanting.

You note how large he is, how thick he is. Dread creeps up in you as you imagine if he intends to take you with it. It would split you open and you can't tell if the thought of it arouses you or terrifies you— with determination you set out to make him cum with your mouth so that you may escape such a fate.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the hardness of his muscles, as you lean in and give him a tentative lick on the head– and you hear the slightest sigh from him and feel a hand find its place on the top of your head. He doesn’t grip your hair or force you down, he simply rests his palm as you slowly lick and kiss his cock.

It’s shameful how much this makes you ache, even after you were so generously given pleasure from him, but to know that he is hard after kissing you— that he wants you and is having you… It makes you feel like nothing else in the world and you channel that in determination to please him the best you could.

One hand wraps around his shaft as you wrap your lips around the tip and you look up with half-lidded eyes to watch his expression. He is watching you but you can see the flush forming on his face, the way his eyes are so dark with need. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth as you suck on him, taking in more and more of his cock.

It is so big and far too thick, your jaw aches with how much you open for him and drool mixed with cum drips down your chin. Your eyes shut tightly as you feel tears start to form but you do not give up your efforts, taking in as much as you can. When he hits the back of your throat and you try your best not to gag, you whimper around him and a louder groan escape him and his fingers curl in your hair– you know you are doing good. 

Only the best for your Harbinger.

Sliding back until his cock releases from your mouth with a slick pop, your hand glides over his cock with ease thanks to the fluid that coats it. A long lick to the thicker vein along his cock and you take him back in your mouth, as far as you can, and his hips cant up into you. 

Another glance up to him and his head is lolled back against the chair, his eyes shut, and he is taking shallow breaths, and oh you want to reach down between your thighs, where you are aching so desperately, at the sight of it. But you have already been selfish, you think, you must serve him more.

You quicken your pace, even as your jaw stings and aches, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, suck, and suck; to bring him to his peak so that when–

He yanks you by your hair and you are pulled off his cock, and you cannot prevent the cry of pain and shock you give out. You see his chest is heaving now and he is staring at you and his cock twitches and throbs- flushed red and glistening, denied its release.  

Had you thought wrong? Did you not please him as well? You attempt to apologize, but your voice comes out as a rasp and your throat is sore. You feel fear crawl into you at the thought before he releases his grip on your hair and motions you to stand.

“Strip.” He commands. While breathless, he does not lack for his dominating presence and you are removing what is left of your clothes faster than you ever have before. 

Your body shakes and you’re not sure if it’s fear or the chilly air or both, but you are obedient and await his next command. He rises from his chair and in a flash, his hands take your shoulders and you are spun around until his chest is warming you and you’re being bent over his desk. 

You shudder, anticipation mixed with fear, and your hands grip at the edge of his desk as you brace yourself for what is to come. Hands– now both bare– roam up and down your body, your breasts to your stomach and hips. Squeezing and feeling every inch of you.

“You are,” You feel the tip of him press against you, so thick and already too much, and you whimper. “Captivating.” 

He splits you open, slow and shallow thrusts as you take him in bit by bit. His girth is far more than anything you have ever experienced and shameful cries escape you. You bite at your hand in an attempt to silence yourself but he bends over you, his body much larger until you feel his hair tickle the back of your neck. His hands planted firmly on the desk next to your shoulders.

“You need not silence your cries, I find them to be quite pleasing.” And he thrusts harder, too much of him going in, and you jolt again the desk and cry out. Every cry and sob that comes from you makes his cock twitch inside of you, and when he bottoms out in you you don't think you've ever felt this level of fullness. 

He slides out, then again thrusts back into— harsh and with a resounding slap against— and soon he is fucking into you hard. Every hard thrust makes you jolt and your thighs sting from being slammed into the edge of the desk over and over. He is panting and grunting from atop you, the way you cry out and your cunt clenches around him makes him almost lose himself in you. He bites and kisses your skin, leaving mark after mark. Hands dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He aches to spill himself inside you, to fuck you full, to feel you cum on his cock.

But then there is knocking at his door. You freeze under him in terror but he is expecting this, he does not relent. Instead his thrusts become less deep, slowing to grind against you instead, and he straightens and stands while you’re still wrapped around him. 

“Enter.” 

You are chilled to the bone, terrified and embarrassed as the door swings open, and whoever is will see you in such a state–

You are met with the wide-eyed, shocked expression that decorates Childe’s face.

“Tartaglia,” Pierro greets without stopping his thrusts, using his grip on your hips to slam you back against him- to make you cry out and watch as Childe winces. “You’re late.”

The door shuts behind Childe, whose eyes do not leave your trembling, fucked out face. His eyes reflect no light and bare no emotion but you can still see how he winces at every small whimper that escapes you. 

“Apologies, Director.” His voice has the slightest quake to it and you can’t bare to keep looking at him, not with the way Pierro’s cock in you feels and hits at a spot inside you that makes you cry out and drop your head down. “I was caught up.”

You cannot silence your moans even as they talk to each other; the sound of wet sound of him fucking you and the smell of your arousal cannot be ignored. Pierro once again yanks your head up by your hair, forcing you to face Childe once more. A rough thumb circles your clit and you cry out. 

“Our attendent is quite wonderful, Tartglia. I believe I’ve come to share your fixation.” Pierro states as if appraising the way your cunt squeezes him. “So beautiful, and so very obedient.” 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and see Childe’s strained face, the jaw his jaw is set tight and his fists are clenching, and– oh, the beginning of the bulge in his pants. 

“My dear little one,” you whimper at the pet name, “Who fucks you best?”

You can’t even begin to think, your mind is lost, and you cry out “You, my lord Harbinger- You, the Director- You, Pierro- You.”

“That’s right.” And you are rewarded with more strokes to your clit, a harsher thrust until you are flush against him, and you break once more. Pierro shuts his eyes tight as you cum against him, cunt sucking him in and the fluid that gushes out of you, and he does not stop the rocking of his hips. “I hope,” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “Our Childe will learn that, of Who comes before him. The one who is in control.”

Childe watches as you come apart on Pierro’s cock, as you grip at the desk and wail and make expressions he’s never seen. Watches you writhe in pleasure from someone who isn’t him and isn’t someone who he would dare go against. 

He sucks in a harsh breath. “I understand, Director.”

“Good. I’ll be generous and let you have your toy,” Pierro grips your jaw to pull you back up and sucks a kiss on your neck, loud and wet and leaving another, darker mark, and looks back to Childe. “Just remember who owns it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

You’re fucked out, your mind is gone, drool and tears coat your face and you simply nod weakly in his hand. That curve to his lips is there again, and there is agony painted on Childe’s face as you respond.

“Of course,” Your voice is reduced to nothing but a sob, breathless and weak. “My Lord Harbinger.” 

Hi~~

Just wanna say I love your posts you remind me of one of my best friends and I love it.

Can I please please please ask you to write on where everyone on the task force is like ten minutes from walking in the door and we insist on giving L head despite his protests thx~~

You’re shifting on your knees in front of him, excitement building as you tug his cock out of his boxers.

“My love, we do not have time for this nonsense. The Kira Taskforce will be here in a short while.”

You giggle and smile up at him.

“You’ll just have to be fully in the moment then, i’m sure you can do it.”

L shakes his head, sigh whispering out as you slurp the tip into your mouth.

“Dear, I do not want my colleagues to see me in such a compromising position.” He nearly chokes at the end of his sentence, your hands coming up to stabilize yourself as you begin to bob your head, saliva dripping down to the hairy base of his cock.

He tries to explain to you why you shouldn’t be doing this but you really don’t care, your thirst for him needing to be quenched. So he lets you have your fun, going at your own pace for a few minutes until he realizes how little time you have left and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He makes sure you nod your agreement when he asks if he can take control and then fists your hair with his strong hands as he thrusts his hips rhythmically, stuffing your poor throat full of his drooling tip over and over again until he finally cums. White seed spilling up and out of your pink lips before he pulls out and casually tells you to swallow.

Obediently, you do so with a innocent look and use his legs to help you stand up before kissing him on the cheek with a giggle and sauntering off.

From up the stairs you hear the Taskforce walk in barely seconds after your departure, nearly choking when you hear Matsuda ask what the white stuff on the ground is.