Yandere Childe - Tumblr Posts

Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.

Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?

How They Mark You as Theirs

Yandere x Fem! Reader

A/N: because I genuinely can't stop thinking about Scaramouche putting his makeup on you! It's been keeping me up at night.

Diluc: With jewelry

You sparkle when you walk into a room. Not just your glowing eyes or large, puffy dresses, but also what adornes your body. A pendant around your neck, large gem rings on your fingers, and earrings, more expensive than most could afford. People wondered if maybe all of your gems and stones were too heavy, maybe that's why despite the fact that you looked so lavish, you never smiled.

Diluc would be at your side, slipping another ring onto your finger. The other ladies would fawn at the sight, silently wishing for a man who wanted to adorn them with silver and gold, but to you, every ring, every stone, every bracelet, and every gem was another lock on the chain harboring you to him, claiming you as his.

Childe: With Bruises

Your neck is littered with love bites, your thighs covered in scratches from where his nails would dig into them, your wrist would have markings around them, from where he would hold you down, pressing passionate kisses and maybe more if he desired.

Even though you were embarrassed by the blatant proof of what he'd done to you all over your body, he still made sure you wore rather revealing clothing. You'd flush with embarrassed, knowing eyes looking all over you, but Childe would smile happily. A hand around your waist would caress you, making it known that he wished to claim you more.

Scaramouche: With make-up

How did everyone know that you were married to number six of the Fatui harbingers? Well, they had to look no further than your eyes, framed in that familiar red shade. The first time he makes you wear it, it's because you watched as he did his own. His nimble fingers held the brush like it was second nature, creating the lines against his eye with ease.

“Come here,” he'll order while still standing in front of the mirror. Before you can ask what he needs from you, he's already squeezing your cheeks between those same fingers, holding your face in place.

The brush tickles as it slides across your eyelids, making you shake a bit in his grasp as you hold back laughter. The smile on your face making his demeanor melt for just a moment, he softens and stops his work, just staring at your features, “I know how it feels. Stop moving,” he'll order. And you do your best to obey.

The sight of your smile is more than enough to make this a habit, instead of a one off thing. Everyday after your kimono dressing, he calls you to him, holding the brush stained with that familiar red makeup.

I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.

You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.

However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.

But enough is enough.

You need to leave. Fast.

One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.

All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.

He can make it up to you. He can and he will.

He promises.

You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.

His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.

He must find you.

Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.

You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.

You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.

No one is following you.

One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.

How neat.

Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.

You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.

Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.

Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.

Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.

Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.

He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.

Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.

Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?

Do you think Childe would get jealous is reader spent to much time with the kids or would he just appreciate her not being miserable 24/7?

Childe is jealous because HE can't spend lots of time with the kids. He's unreasonably happy that you and the children get along so well, but he hates that it comes at the cost of him not having a place to fit in.

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Reader has children, yandere themes, general angst

It was a thought that lingered in his mind more than he wanted. Despite the fact that he was adamant that he wouldn't let it bother him, it still crept its way into his brain during moments of silence. It was eating away at him, the one thing that he couldn't fight off was going home every night and noticing it. Noticing the silence, the lack of toys splayed about, the lack of laughter, the mess.

When he was a child and even up until long past his teenage years, he remembered not being able to walk two steps in his home without stumbling over a toy or board game or even some mysterious mess. He's aware that he has significantly less adolescents in his own house now than he did as a kid, but it doesn't change the fact that his his kids are just so clean. and quiet. It's almost unnerving how little he sees of those existence in the home.

And when he returns, even if there is still sun beaming down on the packed snow of Snezhnaya, his son's will already be up in their rooms. Whether it's to nap or do some schoolwork, the second he steps foot into his own home, they become unavailable, shying away from him as if he were the monster under their bed.

“Why are the boy's always busy when I get home,” he asked over dinner. A quiet dinner of just you and him. He hadn't eaten a meal with his son's in months, almost as if you wanted him to forget their existence.

A look of fear crossed your face, then confusion, then a weak, fake smile. Those smiles of yours. Forced quivering lips and wide eyes, how much longer could you continue to smile at him like that? How much longer would he allow it?

“They're both still young, Ajax, they don't want to be under their parents constantly,” you tried to assure him, following your words up by filling your mouth with food to not have to say more.

“That's bullshit,” he slammed his fist down on the table, scaring you even more in the process. You could see that he was seething with rage, close to having an outburst before taking a deep breath to calm himself. Still, his words were slow and concise as he spoke against, a growl present in his voice, “You can't even sit Damon down for a minute without him crying till he's blue in the face.”

There was nothing you could say to disprove what he was saying. He was correct. Damon was typically glued to your hip, throwing fits whenever you let go of him. He was always a clingy child, vastly different to Adonis, who only wanted you around to show you a cool trick he'd learned or an art project he'd made. But both of them would grow pale when you said that their father would be returning home soon, and even if you wanted to, you couldn't make them leave the confines of their rooms, knowing that Childe was lurking around the corner.

“I want to see my sons,” he said without waiting for your response.

“They're probably long asleep by now,” another lie. You couldn't get Adonis to go to bed without a fight most nights. You knew he was still up, possibly playing with his action figures once again, but if he heard the sound of his father's footsteps coming up the stairs, he'd be in bed with no hesitation. You remember a night where he thought it was Childe instead of you opening the door to his bedroom. He was curled up in his comforter, with it pulled up to his eyes. Peeking at the door like he was expecting the Boogeyman.

“I won't go in tomorrow then. We'll have the whole day together,”

You had nothing to say back, but also no way of forcing the boys to spend time with him. Rather, you silently picked at your food, a lump starting to form in your throat. Dinner was eaten in silence, with you only occasionally stealing glances at your husband, who was still angrily eating. Your heart sank thinking of the ways the boys would cry, but knowing that there was nothing you could do for them. Except be there as he forced himself into their lives. He was doing to them as he'd done to you. And helplessly, all you could do was watch.

personally i do think childe should have more kids bc i absolutely refuse to believe this man would like ever pull out after the first kid

like before the first maybe he will, he wants you to himself, but once you already have one kid? it’s so over for you

your uterus will never know peace again

TW: pregnancy!!

Oh trust and believe me, he WANTS so so many more, but a simple...

"I'm so tired, Ajax," stops him dead in his tracks. He remembers how you looked when you nursed Adonis. So beautiful, so soft, skin silken, but your eyes told a whole nother story. Exhausted. You were more than tired, you were exhausted and your half lidded eyes told him as much.

Childe is cruel, but he isn't evil, and while he loves the prospect of a large family, he loves you more. He longs to see you swollen with child again, his heart fluttering as he remembers how cute you looked with Damon in your stomach. But then he remembers your morning sickness, your nausea, your mood swings and the pain you mentioned feeling. He wants more and he'll have more, but he'll let rest before he fills you again. He has all the time in the world with you, after all.

I think sometimes that Childe’s darling had miscarriages too, with all that stress he put her in she probably would experience a miscarriage but I still don’t know what his reaction would be to either blame her or himself for that. Maybe he would even accuse her of causing it intentionally idk he’s unpredictable🤷🏻‍♀️

-🧚🏻‍♀️

TW: Mentions of pregnancy, baby trapping

Reader actually has no miscarriages with Childe! If you're willing to believe that and she definitely couldn't try to force one either. Both children were indeed an accident though, with Damon being slightly less of an accident (?).

Adonis was conceived on consummation night, shortly after the wedding. It takes much too long for you to even realize you're pregnant, the stress of the entire situation weighing on you. But when you do, it's already a little too late. When you notice, Childe notices as well. And overjoyed doesn't even begin to describe what he's feeling. If there's one thing he is good at, it's caring for children, and that does include the one in your belly. You're pampered the entire time, but you're also, never ever left alone. He knows better than to trust you with his offspring.

Damon on the other hand, was partially planned, partially not. He was more spoken about as Adonis got older and less affectionate towards his father. Ajax would sulk and whine, begging you for another and insinuating that he wasn't going to use protection anymore. There are two ways I think it happened, either you gave in and relented, allowing him to put another baby in you or he had something you really really wanted, particularly, the chance to see your family who you missed oh so dearly.

Devout

Yandere! Childe x Fem,Nun! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Noncon, lots and lots of mentioning of religion, reader is a virgin, yandere, obsession, unprotected sex, finishing inside

Heavenly. What an on the nose way to describe you. Dressed head to toe in loose fitting, religious garb, your hair covered. All he could see was the skin of your hands and that heavenly face.

Such a sweet, welcoming smile and gentle voice was befitting of a nun. He could only imagine how many men you'd lured into your trap of giving donations with those assets of yours. Kindly praising them for whatever they could give like an owner to a dog. And he was another willing victim.

Your eyes went wide when he dropped the large bag of mora into your little basket. Your grip wavered a bit as the heavy coins weighed your little arms down, and all he did was smirk. He'd made himself known to you.

“What a generous donation!” You exclaimed. That pretty smile of yours, the way your eyes lit up. He resisted the urge to lick his lips while thinking about what he could do with that mouth, a lewd gesture to be doing right in front of a nun, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He felt himself cock an eyebrow at your words. Pleasure? He supposed he gave pleasure to receive it. He eyed you up and down, he could see so little of you. The skirt down to your ankles left plenty to the imagination and imagine he did, “I suppose I'm trying to be new to the faith.”

A little white lie, but your smile growing wider made it worth it. If all nuns were as pretty and tempting as you were, he'd join the commune immediately.

“Lord Barbatos accepts all,” You said, holding the basket back out to him and implying that you wanted him to take his money back, “Don't give because you're new to worship. All that is given is accepted, but we will still take you with open arms.”

“I want to give you this much,” he said, a firm hand pushing the basket back, “and I want to give you so much more.”

Going to the city of freedom, a city known for its drinking and partying, just for the cathedral was quite the story amongst his subordinates. But Childe didn't care. The things he wanted to do with you weren't holy, but that was much better than a glass of wine and a song. If they knew the treat that stayed praying in the church day and night, they too would take to the faith.

Walking into the chapel, the first thing he was greeted with was the sight of you on your knees, praying to the statue of that absentee god. Filling that pretty mouth of yours felt like a better use of this time, you were already on your down there after all. But he decided against it. Not yet at least. Not when you were smiling at him so sweetly, motioning him closer to pray next to you.

Childe mentally asked the Tsaritsa for forgiveness, but still kneeled next to you. The Tsaritsa was a forgiving woman, he hoped that she would understand why he was praying to a false God. The way you were sitting on your knees, your round behind pressed against the heels of your feet, it made the fabric of your skirt press against your body. The curve of your ass, it was the first time he's seen it and he sucked air in through his teeth. He truly was being tempted, wasn't he?

“It's such an honor to see you, Ajax. Wasn't it?” Even the way you tilted your head in confusion was adorable. Typically he'd be upset if someone had forgotten his name, he didn't feel forgettable, but he was going to make you remember. Those plump lips of your would be calling his name over and over again, until it would be all you could say.

“Yes, it's Ajax,” he dropped the clasps of his hands and stood again, holding out an arm for you as well, “I was in the area again and decided to stop by for a prayer.”

A look of hesitance danced across that pretty face of yours as you debated whether or not to take his hand, before deciding against it. Instead, you chose to stand by yourself, a move that made him long for you even more. So he couldn't even feel the softness of your skin? Yet another ache in his groin, you were honestly trying to get him, weren't you?

“Forgive my rudeness, but we're discouraged from touching those of the opposite sex. Especially those who haven't taken vows, better to not tempt provocation,”

Vows? He'd assumed as much, but hearing you say it his pants grow even tighter. Temptation was you. You were such a pure soul, but you were sin. That body under all those clothes, he knew that it was erotic. He knew you felt lustful thoughts, that even you had ideas and thoughts that went against your virtue.

“I understand,” he spoke in a strained whisper, gripping the legs of his pants tight, “Do you think we can go somewhere private? I have a few confessions I need to make.”

You perked up once again, large eyes filled with enthusiasm, “Our father is holding a confessional if you'd like-”

“No,” he cut you off quickly, “I want to talk to you alone, do you think that's a possibility?”

There was a look of aversion in your eyes, clearly you were thinking about it. You looked like you wanted to tell him no, but your good natured heart and kind ways were fighting against what was right and what you felt like you needed to do as a nun.

“I'm…I'm not meant to take confessions, brother Ajax,” you said sweetly.

He stepped a bit closer to you, trying not to intimidate you, but also trying to press the importance. His length was hardening even more, his pants growing tighter. If you noticed, you didn't say anything, but of course, how would you?

“Please, it'll just be for a moment,”

Fearful eyes looked around the church before you motioned for him to follow you. Going against your God while in his home, you felt like you were committing a crime. But you couldn't leave a person in need behind. You're sure Barbatos would find it in his heart to forgive you.

“Please, make yourself at home here, dear brother,” you said while leading him through the door.

It was a simple room. An altar at the other end of the room, with a few candles and offerings and dim lighting. The room was scented with incense, a sweet smell that reminded him of the dandelion wine that Mondstadt was known for.

You lowered yourself onto your knees and motioned for Childe to follow you, “Please, kneel next to me, confess whatever you feel necessary,”

He sat down next to you, close enough to where his shoulder brushed against you. You flinched from this contact, but didn't say anything. A thought crossed your mind, so much space in the room and he chose to be right against you.

“Forgive me, I have sinned,” he said, but he never closed his eyes, never clasped his hands together, never lowered his head.

“Confess to me your woes,”

He sucked air in through his teeth, trying not to jump on you. Not yet. Not while you were looking at him so hopefully. So much trust. It only made him want you more.

“I've been having sinful thoughts,” he began, his eyes not leaving you, “Sinful to the point of being debilitating. They wreck my mind constantly.”

“Are these thoughts of harming others?” You asked, this didn't seem like the question of a clergy, but rather one of genuine curiosity.

He didn't look away from you, while his hand slithered down and he began palming his length through his pants, “They used to be. But now they're more deviant in nature.”

“Br-brother Ajax, such actions are- they are unbefitting for the church,” you said quickly, turning your head away to not see him as he defiled sacred ground with his actions.

“I need you, sister,” he leaned closer to you, whispering his words right into the shell of your ear. You squirmed at the feeling of his breath, such a cute reaction it was, and the yelp you let out when his hand gripped your ankle was even cuter. He tugged at your leg, pushing your back against the ground and leaning over you.

He'd seen fear like this before. Many times before. When he plunged a weapon into someone's chest, watching the life fade from their eyes, it was similar to the one you were making now. The tears, the muttered begging, even the way your lips quivered, it was all the same. So why now did it make his cock even harder in the confines of his pants?

Where would he even begin with you? Quite honestly, he didn't even know how to take your garb off. Instead, he took to ripping it, right at the neck. Pulling it apart straight down the middle until every inch of your torso became visible to him. Your breasts were covered in a basic bra. Normally he was the type to prefer more intricate lingerie to entice his urges, yet something about the simplicity of your undergarments made him hiss air in through his teeth. It was like you knew for certain that nothing was happening, yet he still was forcing you to show him.

“Stop! You can't do this!” You cried, trying to cover yourself in what scraps of your dress you could find.

He was gentle as he touched you this time, fingertips stroking your cheek, but his words following were harsh and deathly serious, “Don't fight me, I wouldn't want to hurt you,”

“Heavenly father, I ask that you forgive me…” you began to mutter to yourself in prayer. Laying there, hands clasped and teary eyes shut as you felt him trace up and down your thigh with his tongue. The feeling of his saliva, going up to your stomach, one of his hands cupping your breast before ripping the fabric of your bra away, it made you sick to your stomach. Your pebbled nipples hitting the cold air were quickly sucked into his mouth, a pleasure never experienced before washing over your body. You shuddered, much to his approval.

He wanted to go slower. He wanted to tease you for hours before taking you. He wanted to make you cum over and over, proudly showing how lewd you truly were to your false God, but even he has grown impatient. Trying to win you the right way just wasn't working and he needed to feel you, as deeply as possible, the girl he'd fantasized about night after night.

The way your eyes widened when he dropped his pants was cute. When you tried to look away from his hard cock that was dripping precum onto your cunt, still begging with those sweet lips, it was even cuter. But the way you went silent, the way the world seemed to stop from you the second you felt the head of his cock against your opening, that was the cutest. He loved the look in your eye. The look of visceral fear. It was a look of knowing. Knowing that after he was finished with you, you'd have nowhere to go, but to him.

You only began truly fighting him off when he began pushing the head of his cock into your warmth. So tight and soft, no matter how hard you hit him, you couldn't make him leave your insides. When he bottomed out inside you, feeling your walls clench around every inch of his cock, he hissed. Face to face with you now, nestled deep within you, he kissed your wet cheeks. Childe wasn't one for love making, but he couldn't help but to be tender with you. His thrusts were slow, but deep, making sure you tasted all of him.

“Hush, little angel,” he cooed softly to you, while wiping away more of your tears. Your little sobs were agonizing to his heart, yet his cock only twitched harder, “It'll be over soon.”

And you nodded. Such a sweet thing. You nodded and let yourself go to him. He didn't take this as a sign to be rougher though. No. He couldn't. Not to you. He continued his same pace, softly humming to you and shushing you when you got too loud. He wanted to pound your insides, to fuck you brutally, but that would be for later.

Little sobs left your lips as your nails dug into the carpeted floor beneath you. He was still going slow. Thrusting in and out skillfully, his hand tenderly gripping your face and making you look him in the eye, any time you tried to look away, he'd just force your head back.

“I'm cumming soon, okay?” He muttered against your lips, kissing you gently afterwards.

With your mouth engulfed in his, you couldn't beg him to please not finish inside you. Instead, your body flailed beneath him, trying to get him off as you felt the thrust of his hips speed up and become more greedy. You felt him grip you tighter, you felt his moans grow louder against your lips. And all you could do is sit in horror as you felt his hips falter, his pace slow down, and his cock twitch even more as it pumped hot cum deep inside your.

Childe pulled away from the sloppy kiss, your lips covered in saliva and he smiled. You'd never seen such evilness until you looked into his eyes, proudly looking down at your cunt where the cum was seeping out. I'm your mind, you were saying another prayer, but you weren't sure if anyone was listening.

“Guess I have to marry you now,” he chuckled with a playful pat against your thigh. But despite the smile on his face you knew he wasn't joking.

Yanderes x Manipulative Reader

Imagine knowing exactly how a yandere feels about you. Knowing their love. Their lust. Their obsession. Imagine not being scared. It's a daunting idea at first, that someone can adore you to the point of pure devotion. But it doesn't have to be frightening...

Diluc who knows he's only being used for his money. You only come around when you're low on funds or wanting to buy something expensive. He knows this, yet he still hands you everything in his pockets gleefully. He's well aware of how little you care for him, yet the way your eyes glimmer as he signs his name on the back of a check and hands it to you makes him swoon. Diluc wants more of you. He wants every part of you. He desires you carnally, long past the point of obsession, but the only thing you offer in return to the thousands he spends on you, is a light peck on the cheek. And he finds himself looking forward to spending on you, just for the gentle touch of your lips on his face.

Childe who knows that your saccharine sweet words are nothing more than a ploy, seeing as you look at him in general disgust most times. A harbinger such as himself is awfully powerful, and not only that, but influential as well. He stands along side you as you brag, using his status to get more consumers to your business. But the second his hand snakes around your waist, he watches your smile faulter. You'll kiss him, but only on public. Never has he even held you behind closed doors. Chaste kisses against the lips, lasting only for a second are followed by you practically ignoring him for the rest of the night. While he longs for a little of your attention, waiting for the next taste of your sweetness. Yet he can't pull himself from your hold. He stands there seething with rage as he watches you smile at someone else, knowing that that smile is genuine, compared to the false ones you give him.

Scaramouche who's cold eyes and deathly stare always seem focused on you, yet you don't seem the least bit scared. He's loyal. Like a dog, despite his cat like features, he follows close behind you. It never shows on his face how much he needs you. He never even speaks the words aloud that he'll always always be there for you, but you found out eventually. At your every beck and call, without a moments notice. He does for you what most aren't willing to, the only price is your love. Love that he felt he's been denied for so long. It's no surprise that the second you give him even the slightest bit of positive attention, he's willing to make cities crumble for you. To take lives for your words of affection.

Maids, maids…and even more maids

Being the Maid at a Yandere's Estate

FT: Kamisato Ayato, Childe, Diluc, and Scaramouche

Master Kamisato Ayato is quite the funny man. That's what you'll tell the other maids in quick bits of gossip. He has a surprisingly good type of humor that just falls from his mouth and a very very soft laugh, but of course, you can barely gossip as long as you want to. A ringing of a bell signifies that the master has called for you again, something he's been doing regularly these past few months.

“You're the only one I can trust to clean my quarters,” he told you once before. His quarters being his office and his bedroom. Even though he says that, he never leaves the room while you're cleaning. Rather he's there, pretending to be doing other tasks as you dust his shelves and sweep the floors. You wonder if he thinks that you can't feel his eyes on you? The second you look down, he's looking right at you, practically burning a hole through you with his gaze. It wasn't noticeable at first, but it grew worse the more that he insisted that only you could clean for him personally.

Your daily cleaning for him ends with him patting you on the back, his arms lingering around your waist for a little too long.

“You did incredible, as usual,” he'll praise you, “But don't be shy to come and see me outside of work hours.”

Master Ajax, or Childe as he's referred to by others, is rarely home. You wonder if that humble manor he has in Snezhnaya is just for show. Of course, you seldom get to see it too.

Whispers amongst your fellow coworkers told you that before you were hired, Childe didn't bring anyone with him on his trips. It made you question why you needed to pack your bags every time he was taking a trip to another city, as he insisted that you would come with him and be his personal maid for the duration of it.

He never treated you poorly and never took you anywhere dangerous. You were usually the one just holding down the fort and tidying at whatever inn he decided to stay at. But even you acknowledged the fact that you felt like you were a little too close to your employer. He'd take you out with him, you'd try to trail behind, but he'd make you walk closely at his side. And never once did he correct people when they assumed you were his wife. Actually, if you looked at his face after someone made the mistake, you'd see a smirk forming.

“What's wrong with being married to me?” He would joke, although his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, “I think I'm a pretty good catch. Don't you?”

Master Diluc doesn't leave his office often. The other maids talk in hushed whispers about how they worry that he may be working too much. Seeing him roaming the halls is like seeing a ghost. This also means that he partakes in most of his meals at that desk as well.

He invites you to sit with him one day, saying that he doesn't enjoy eating his meals alone and seeing as he is your boss, you agree. One day turns into nearly every day of your work week, and when asking your coworkers about it, they seem surprised.

“Master Diluc barely speaks to me when I deliver his meals,” one girl says and the other's agree shortly after.

It seems strange to you as you also slowly eat your food across from him. You'd taken to eating your meal as well, even though it wasn't you designated meal time. He assured you that you were still being paid for the moments you sat with him. When you question why you're the only maid that he shares his meals with, a slight grimace crosses his face.

“Does it matter?” He asks you, almost a little too harshly for the gentle Diluc you know, “I'm paying you to spend time with me. Only you.”

Lord Scaramouche who only needs a couple maids. He's rarely home anyways and when he is he doesn't leave his room often, doesn't take to meals, and doesn't call for anything more than a cup of tea. Although even you're surprised when less and less maids show up for their shifts, until it's only you that resides within the walls.

It's rather lonesome when you realize that your only company is now the quiet lord Scaramouche, who barely meets your eyes most days, and when he does speak, he says some form of insult. It's only when you're out for a grocery run that you run into a previous maid of the manor, chatting happily with the first person who'll talk to you.

When asked why they all decided to quit, she tilts her head in complete confusion, “We didn't quit. We were fired, all of us.”

It's a short sentence that confuses you even more. And your walk back to the manor is filled with thoughts. Bringing lord Scaramouche his meal that night, you decided to ask why you were the only help left in his lonesome abode. Assuring him that you're not complaining and that the job isn't too difficult.

“Must you always ask stupid questions?” He spits the words out, “Your presence doesn't bother me like the others so you get to stay. Don't take it for granted.”

Childe meeting Scaramouche's Wife -Drabble

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader x Yandere(?) Childe

Scaramouche didn't have “guests.” He had visitors and nuisances, but never guests. You didn't even think he had real friends, seeing as he spent most of his time pestering you.

So when he showed up at home with another person, you were visibly surprised. A man a head taller than him, with a Playboy smile and messy orange hair.

“You need not bow to him,” Scaramouche ordered, making you raise your head, “He'll be staying for dinner. Be sure to tell the head maid to make preparations.”

“Yes, my lord,”

As they walked past you, the man stopped in his tracks at your side. He looked you over in interest, but his eyes seemed to be lacking light or glimmer. Despite his smile, his eyes felt truly dull.

“You're not going to introduce me to your wife?” he asked, sounding a little hurt.

“I didn't feel it necessary,”

The man took his glove off and tucked it into his pocket, then reached his hand out to you, “Call me Childe.”

You looked to Scaramouche, waiting for his signal before taking the man's hand and giving it a firm shake, something you hadn't done in the year since you married him, shaking hands wasn't common in Inazuma.

You went to pull your hand away, but Childe held his grip. He gave you a mischievous smirk, a look that made your heart drop to your stomach. Your hand was lifted up to his face, and his pink lips pressed a kiss against it.

You were quick to yank your hand back, but that wasn't enough for Scaramouche. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, his rage making the air in the room hard to breathe.

“You've been here for less than ten minutes, and you've already found a way to piss me off,” he spat, but Childe just laughed, proving to you that he was truly batshit insane.

“You worry too much, it's just a greeting,” he patted Scaramouche on the back rather firmly as the two of them began the walk to the office together. Just when you thought you could breathe a sigh of relief, Childe turned his head to look back at you. You felt your blood run cold as he shot you a sultry smile, followed by a wink.

As Grief Consumes.

Yan Childe x F Reader.

Synopsis: You are on the run from the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers after he kills your husband. But soon, your fear turns into a want for revenge, and by then it is too late for you.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/some gore, accidental self-harm, essentially kidnapping, massive power imbalance, manipulation, and stalking.

Word Count: 4.4k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Anna Maria by bôa

Once Upon a Dream by Lana Del Ray

An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

I Want a Girl (Just Like the Girl That Married Dear Old Dad) by The Buffalo Bills

Unwed Henry by American Murder Song

Who Is She ? by I Monster

Happy Together by Filter

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

Missed Me by The Dresden Dolls

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

“When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself.” – Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes

i. “The further you sink, the more you drown in lies told by both you and others.”

You had first seen the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers when he was towering above you, unblinking, at the end of your bed. Dressed in elegant gray attire, he stood tall, exuding an air of opulence. His eyes, reminiscent of frozen azure or sapphire gems, shimmered with an ethereal glow, just like his Hydro Vision.

Initially, his absence of blinking and his predatory demeanor seemed only odd, almost as if he were a wild animal, your tiredness preventing you from seeing the situation in its entirety. 

However, once you had awoken enough from your sleep and realized that he was an intruder, a profound sense of terror and alarm engulfed you. Your husband’s snoring was the only audible thing in this moment, the Harbinger’s and your breathing. You had practically jumped out of your bed to run, not thinking. 

“That took a while.”

No. No. No, this can’t be happening. Ji told you that he was able to pay off his debt just in time. Your throat constricts, your gaze widening as your mind teeters on the brink of crumbling, all because of the presence of the person standing just a few feet from you. You can’t breathe. Tartaglia smiles at your fear like you are a new toy he had purchased and then placed on the highest shelf. 

“Why are you–”

“Shh,” He cuts your questioning short with that sound and a simple lift of his finger to his smirking lips. “I just want to chat, girly.” He whispers, putting a lazy arm over the raised footboard. “Don’t cry or scream for help, okay? We both know no one would come anyway.”

Nobody is here to help you get out of this, even Rex Lapis himself.

“Why are you here, Lord Tartaglia? That… is who you are, right? Please, he did pay off his debts.”

You don’t know what to say next. You don’t know what to say next, and it hurts you. What is one supposed to say, when their house is broken into by a Fatui Harbinger and they are just so casually standing a few steps away from you? A Fatui Harbinger who was said to be a wild card and oh so infamously conniving? Would begging for Ji to not die be a good choice? Would you die too then, whether he listens to your pleas or not? Perhaps asking him to at least make his death not painful and long would suffice. It is a gamble, no matter how you slice this situation.

Your husband is not a stranger. You know his life story and what he had done in his life. He knows your life story and actions too. Would Tartaglia listen to you if you kept repeating that Ji had paid off his debt already? Something tells you he won't listen to you, even if you speak enough to make your throat bleed.

“I doubt that.” His voice carries a cheerful melody that unsettles your stomach. “Harbingers aren’t one to be given false information, sweetie.” He chuckles as the tears that are about to fall from your eyes reflect the moonlight. “Anything you want to tell me before I get down to business? It can be anything at all.”

You find yourself tightly embracing your arms, as the frigid air playfully grazes your skin. Perhaps buried within your subconscious, you entertain the possibility that Ji may have deceived you. Maybe he fabricated a story to cease your persistent reminders about visiting Northland Bank and settling his debt with the Fatui. Alternatively, there could be an undisclosed motive behind his deception. Then again, could it be Tartaglia who is deceiving you, or perhaps you are deceiving yourself?

“Do you have to kill him?”

“Yes, princess.”

You don’t say anything for a moment after that blunt response. Tartaglia drinks up every emotion on your face like they are bottles of the sweetest cherry wine. Unfortunately for you, he does not seem the type to be a lightweight.

“Why can’t you do it another way?”

He looks out your window to the Sandbearer trees and bamboo growing in the back of your house. “Because he won’t ever be able to pay off his debt, no matter how much he works or how much he sells.”

You would think the lightness in his tone is simply him fooling around for a moment if he hadn't broken into your home and is a Fatui Harbinger. You know better than to think so foolishly. Perhaps it is simple amusement, with how his eyes look at your cold sweat traveling down your forehead to your neck, and your tears migrating down to your bare feet. You can sense the heaviness of his gaze, as it carefully observes your every action, from the not-so-subtle movement of your fingertips to the gentle flutter of your lashes. He would not be joking at a time like this.

The left side of the bed creaks as you hear Ji’s yawns and grumbles and him rubbing his eyes with his pointer fingers. Were Tartaglia and you too loud? You don’t think so. Your blood runs cold as your head turns and your fearful eyes make contact with his calm ones. 

As you move towards Ji, a wave of childhood nightmares washes over you. In those dreams, a formidable monster lurked behind, forever out of reach no matter how fast you ran. Your legs become burdensome and immobile as if shackled by iron chains. Should you cry out? Warn Ji to flee before it's too late? Tartaglia would easily catch up, but the longer you remain inert, the weightier your guilt grows.

You could still do something, can’t you?

You can still at least try, can’t you?

“[First]?” Your husband’s voice mixed in with drowsiness. “What are you doing up?”

The hand over your mouth doesn’t budge as much as you struggle and claw at it. It’s no use. Ji can’t see anything because his glasses are on the bedside table. He can’t run if he doesn’t know what is here, waiting to tear him apart into little pieces.

“My love? What’s wrong?”

Tartaglia answers before you can.

“I’m afraid your deadline has passed.”

This has to be a bad dream, so you close your eyes and wish that you would just wake up already. But you never do.

ii. “Your flames can either bring life and warmth or cause destruction.”

You woke up in the morning to a cold bed. You sit up and your neck naturally turns to your right, your tiredness keeping you from remembering Ji is dead. You somehow still wanted to check if Ji had already left for work, but he wasn’t there. There was a faint glimmer of hope as you kept denying that Ji hadn’t passed last night after all. But that glimmer was quickly followed by a crushing weight. The bed was cold, the spot where Ji usually lay being taken instead by a head of ginger hair and freckles, a strong arm holding your waist in place.

*~*~*~*

As the sun retreats into the Earth's embrace and the moon takes its place in the celestial stage, the fire dwindles to a mere glimmer of its former radiance. The flames flicker with feebleness, urging you to tend to its dwindling strength.

“Sigh… I’m traveling again today anyway. I don’t need this anymore.” You stand up and almost cry out in pain at your sprained ankle. You can hardly see Liyue Harbor from here. The only thing you can see almost clearly is the giant red gates, the lanterns so small they could be mistaken for little bits of dust or gliding flower petals. You’re thankful that you were not hurt back then and escaped before Tartaglia’s boat set sail for Snezhnaya. Now you can’t go back to Liyue until you are assured that Tartaglia has died. “Time to go.”

You start walking down the mountainside, being careful to not trip on a tree root or rock. You made that mistake before, and you surely do not want history repeating itself. Especially since your ankle just started healing, though it is not healed enough to not make you wince with every step you take. It still beats having it broken though, you suppose.

You would rather sleep, you would rather have someone here to help you through this. Before your eyelids can close again as you walk, you slap yourself. You have to pay attention, because if there are any Fatui skirmishers, mages, or agents here you have to notice them before it is too late for you. You are certain that Tartaglia gave them orders to look out for you. It is what you would have done if you were as obsessed as he was with someone you had never met before. Thankfully though your thread of fate differed from Childe’s, or at least you hoped so.

You have to keep going, it is what Ji would have wanted you to do if he was still alive.

It is what Ji would have wanted you to do. Your sword is dragged behind you, a light thunking sound audible every time it falls a bit at a small ledge. It has seen better days, that is for certain. Its edges are dull and its surface is chipped and stained. The wooden hilt is rotten and split, exposing the worn and tarnished metal beneath.

The sword is old, but there is still strength in the petals beneath all the rust and decay. Despite the more than obvious corrosion, it still manages to retain some of its original sharpness. Having any weapon is better than having none. You cannot just be here out in the wilderness by yourself like some rabbit waiting to be eaten. You have to continue to run and live. You have to, for Ji.

“Huh…?”

Just your luck. The mask the man wears is somewhat scorched and burned at the edges, likely from the fiery attacks the typical Fatui Pyro Agent wields in combat. The red mask’s surface has been ruined by heat and age, leaving it an almost brick color. Its shape is angular, giving it a harsh and intimidating appearance. Nothing is exposed, with even the nose and mouth covered by its metal.

You regret leaving that tacky tent in an instant. You raise your blade and point it at the agent, glaring. In response, the agent crosses his arms with a tch sound leaving the small holes of his mask. Would it be a bad idea to run? Is this agent fast enough to stop you? It’s another gamble, to put it simply.

*~*~*~*

The sound of the troupe of musicians’ instruments fills both you and Ji’s ears sweetly as you dance. The crackling of the fire of the outdoor cooking station provides a cozy atmosphere. You were both at peace surrounded by the warmth and comfort of the song playing and the love you shared.

A drizzle falls from the night sky, adding yet another accent to the harmony. Creating an almost hypnotic rhythm. Ji smiles at you with appreciation in his eyes. He pulls you close as you continue to dance to the melodic tunes playing in the background.

“I love you.”

*~*~*~*

But you take that chance and start running uphill, not being as careful as you were walking down. The agent chases after you as you gasp for air, your eyes going from looking at the top of the small mountain to looking at your feet to making sure you don’t trip and fall. But then you look behind you and see the agent reaching his hands out towards you, aiming to catch you before you can get very far. That is when your instinct kicks in, the rational part of your brain being replaced by pure emotion and impulse.

The agent attempts to sidestep out of the way but only manages to trip himself on a tree root as your rusty blade makes a clear and large bloody slash across his chest. He tumbles down the mountainside, his blood trailing behind him in a crimson stream. He grunts and you go back to running. Only when you are up on the top of the hill do you look down at what you have done

He lies struggling at the bottom of the mountainside. Your tunnel vision makes the world dark, leaving only one color left; the agent’s bright red blood staining the mountainside. He seems to have collapsed on a rocky part of it, his body losing the strength to stay upright. The wind blows at the crimson trails of blood, splattering them over the nearby rocks and foliage. He reaches out with a weak hand, reaching in vain for you, his voice nothing more than feeble gurgling and panting. The agent struggles to stay conscious, but the pain from the massive wound in his chest and the lack of oxygen causes him to slowly lose consciousness. He draws a final breath as he goes limp. The corpse bleeds out into the dirt and rocks, his blood mingling with the soil as he remains still and lifeless.

*~*~*~*

The soft glow of the candles illuminated the bedroom. Ji could see that you were fast asleep, your gentle breathing a testament to this. He leans in close and kisses your forehead, your eyebrows slightly contracting in your sleep, Ji feeling content and happy. A gentle breeze blows through the window, causing the curtains to flutter slightly. As he watches the candlelight dance and flicker, his mind is at ease and his heart is full of love for you. You feel safe and secure in your husband’s arms.

*~*~*~*

As soon as you are certain of his death, you step down from your perch and kneel next to the body.

Was it moral? The question hangs in the air like a noose or a guillotine’s blade as you stare down at him. Your act may have been necessary, but was it right? Is murder a justified response? Was there any chance for a peaceful resolution? What could have been?

Is this what Ji would have wanted? Would he be happy if he knew you had blood on your hands now?

iii. “As we dance, each step forward leads to another step back.”

You go to wash your hands in the body of water nearby.

You stand by the edge of the lake, looking down at your hands as you contemplate. Even though there is no physical evidence of blood on your palms, you can still feel the weight of what you have done. The water beckons you like a siren, drawing you in with the promise of being cleansed both physically and spiritually. You hesitate for a moment before dipping your hands into the water, letting the coldness refresh you. As you feel the water wash over your skin, you can’t help but wonder if the feeling of guilt will disappear with it.

“Not bad, not bad.” That is what Childe would say if he was here with you to witness what had just happened, your imagination producing a proudness in his tone that makes you almost vomit. “Seems you learned a bit from me. Cute.”

You have the urge to shield your ears from the harsh reality that the imaginary Tartaglia relished in revealing. However, you resist the temptation for now. The task at hand is to cleanse them, to rid them of impurity. They remain unwashed and unclean. Therefore, you clench your hands tightly, keeping them submerged in the water. There is a viscous sensation as if you had immersed them in a thick, sticky substance like honey or syrup.

Your imagination stops playing tricks on you for a moment, much to your paranoia and guilt’s utter joy. Perhaps a small mercy, or punishment as now you will be alone with your thoughts once more.

You hold your breath as you count the seconds of you scratching away at your hands. One, two, three, four… you eventually lose count, and by then a small portion of the lake is crimson. Your skin has been rubbed raw and you are bleeding, and when you become aware of this, the pain shoots up your arms and you scream.

“Come on, be proud of what you did.”

There is a chuckle that is akin to those that still haunt your nightmares.

At least you can’t see him, he is just a voice in your head. Though you assume that the real Tartaglia is still out there, waiting to strike. You just wish you could make it to Sumeru before then.

Would you ever be free?

“You did great, you know.”

You do not want Tartaglia’s praise, as false as it is at this moment. Even if he is just a figment, you would rather have no kindness at all, out of both self-hatred and hatred for him.

Would you still be free if you hadn’t killed that agent? You don’t think you would have, you don’t know what that agent would have done to you, if he was sent to catch you or if he was just doing his regular patrols of the area. You don’t know what his plans were. All you know is that he is dead and you are still free. Where whatever his plan had failed, your plan as quickly as it was made had succeeded. You contemplate deluding yourself into thinking that that agent was sent after you, that he did harbor ill-intent towards you and your freedom. 

But you can’t do it, so all you do is put your bloody hands to your face and sob. You taste something metallic in your mouth and it only makes you cry louder. Your tears become mixed with sanguine as they fall and paint your white dress with red dots. You stay in that position for a while after that, but the imaginary Childe’s voice does not leave you for another second.

There is never a peaceful moment, and you don’t know how long you cried for.

“Seriously, stop crying. It sort of ruins how good of a job you did.” After a few more moments of you still loudly weeping, you hear a sigh. “Come on. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

You sniffle into your cut palms.

“Just leave me alone.”

He does not listen to you, as he always does.

iv. “You have turned into the very thing that you vowed to annihilate.”

Screaming. Screaming that is so loud the Golden Finches in the trees all fly away. Screaming too loud, too maddening, to stop and it goes on for about a minute like an alarm. The source of the screaming is you, not that you tried to stop it, blinded by emotion.

The daylight makes you focus on your cut hands, your skin still stained with blood from the night before. The lake’s water has slightly brightened up, and the spot where you cut your hands is less red. 

But your trails sooner than later trail back to what caused your screaming.

Resting in the lush blades of grass beside you lies the source of your frantic cries. Nestled at its center, is a vibrant and tranquil sapphire gemstone adorned with gilded accents that trace the curves of a square. As it draws near to your being, a subtle glow emanates, casting a gentle illumination. A Hydro Vision.

“Aren’t you happy?”

You stare at it. You do not know whether to be happy or continue being miserable. You are deemed worthy and strong by the celestial realm, hence receiving a portion of their formidable might. The only problem is that you had just killed a man. You murdered someone, and you are being rewarded for it.

It is like Tartaglia is here with you, even though you cannot see him.

You know that if you had not killed that agent, you would not be gifted with this.

At least you can defend yourself for real now, even though your self-defense skills are next to none.

You hope this is a joke. There are fake Visions sold in some places, and perhaps it was dropped here by mistake. Maybe a child simply lost theirs. But you know that is not true. There is nothing here but you, this Vision, and your rusty sword. There is nothing else for you, no child coming and snatching up the Vision and running back to wherever they came from.

So you pick it up, and it is slightly cold with little droplets of water on its glowing surface. 

It emits a gentle hum and you can feel its power coursing through your veins. Hydro Visions are said to be a manifestation of the Hydro Archon’s will, a symbol of her sense of justice and benevolence. 

You would laugh if your voice box did not feel like it had just been clawed out of you.

You would laugh if you thought it was funny. But it is not funny, because now you will have to carry this reminder; this permanent keepsake of the man you have killed. It is not funny, but you know Childe would think it was if he ever found out about this.

You cannot escape this because there is no escape. You killed a man and his corpse is there on the bottom of the hill, rotting away, his eyes probably wide and glassy and unblinking. Flies and maggots will soon make him their new home and drill their way into his flesh as he rots, buzzing sounds soon replacing whatever gurgling ones the agent made before he went motionless.

You do not deserve any mercy, because at the end of the day are you really that different from Tartaglia? You both kill those around you to get what you want, the only difference being you killed that man in self-defense, or at least you hope that is what it counts as. You don’t know if you and him are the same. You are no saint. Childe is a sinner. You are a disgrace. Childe is no luminary. 

Or maybe he is. Because of him, you murdered someone. 

Either way, that agent had someone, someone out there who at least was acquaintances with him. Maybe he had a partner, a spouse, a friend, someone back in Snezhnaya waiting for him to return. Now all that they are getting is a body in a bag and maybe some cold condolences if they are lucky enough. 

Your hands still hurt as you hold out one of them and a small fountain of water spouts from your palm. You ball up your fist and close your eyes, making the Hydro power stop. Maybe the heavens know that you and Childe are the same, and that is why they gifted you the same Vision he wields. Whether the Vision of choice was intentional or not though, you know you will never be able to find out, because you are just a human. The divine does not interfere with mortals, after all.

You do not feel good, but you don’t feel bad either, a nauseating mix of both you think. You’re stronger now. You’re more worthy of hell than heaven.

What awaits after you die? What happens when both you and Childe die? If you got into heaven, would Tartaglia tear through the very gates of heaven to get to you? What would happen then? Or if you go to hell, would Tartaglia be able to find you?

If you burn in hell, would the only thing you hear be your thoughts?

You would be alone then. Though you know you are just as alone right now. You are lost in your thoughts, and maybe that is what hell is because you cannot stop them.

You are hungry. The satchel you stole from a Millelith guard ran out of food and water yesterday, and there do not seem to be any apples or sunsettias nearby. You feel so empty.

You think about what caused all of this to happen. You are certain that if Childe had not butted his head into your life if Ji had paid off his debts, if something else had happened, if anything else had happened, if everything else had happened, you would not have killed someone. Hopefully, probably.

You are a murderer.

You hold the title of a killer, yet there may still be a chance to redeem your soul through positive actions. If you dedicate yourself to intense preparation, you could potentially return to Northland Bank and swiftly eliminate Childe. Your motive is driven by the desire to pay Childe back for Ji and all the other lives he has destroyed. You want payback for yourself too. Seeking retribution for yourself is not an act of selfishness but rather a justified response in your opinion. 

A deep longing for revenge quickly blossoms within, causing your heart to race as an ecstatic smile graces your face. The tantalizing allure of revenge consumes your every thought, compelling you to go to any lengths to savor its sweetness. Your unwavering pursuit of justice echoes relentlessly, echoing the call for retribution. Justice, justice, justice, Revenge, revenge, revenge. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Victory, victory, victory.

You are going to enjoy his suffering, his pain. You are going to enjoy his screams. You are going to enjoy his cruel death, the torture you are going to put him through. You lust after such a moment like a bite from the sweetest, juiciest fruit in all the land. Apples. Peaches, maybe.

Your soul will feast well that day. You will eat and eat until you are the very definition of gluttony itself. Even if you end up a demon, you will be happy that Tartaglia finally got his due.

You cannot wait.

It is not too late for you, for forgiveness, for another chance. It is not too late to salvage at least part of you. 

You laugh then, and it is croaky and hoarse from how loudly you screamed before, but you don’t care. Yes. Yes. Yes. You ignore how much your throat hurts, how much your hands hurt and your ankle hurts. It does not matter.

A sudden clapping sound, slow but clear. You don’t know whether or not you are imagining it, if you are going crazy or not. You are not mishearing things either way. 

Footsteps, cracking branches, and stepping on roots and blades of grass.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

A chuckle.

“Good job.”

v. “Happiness can only be found in surrender.”

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊 {𝕷𝖎𝖞𝖚𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓}

/rɪˈmɔːs/

noun

deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed.

"they were filled with remorse and shame"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the way to Liyue was long but luckily you were able to go there before the Rite of Descension started

But the Rite of Descension wasn’t really what you expected it to be

Seeing Rex lapis died suddenly during his summoning is something that is going to traumatize any children there

Not only that but, both you and Lumine lost your chance to maybe find out about her brother and maybe a way back home

That is after all of the problems are solve….

Kinda…

Finding out that Lumine brother or Aether is the abyss prince isn’t really something that is a good news

When you first met childe, you had your guards up around him due to him working as a fatui. Even worse is that he’s a harbinger, but you lowered it down a bit after seeing how he cared for his little brother

He may or may not keep on giving you mora even tho you already told him to stop.

Zhongli is an interesting man in your opinion. Finding out that he’s the geo archon just make it a bit awkward since there are people who claimed they know about Rex lapis more than him but he’s a great person to be around.

You would often go to him and listen to his stories when he was Rex Lapis and maybe enjoy the silence between the two of you

Meeting qiqi is was quite shocking due to the fact that she is a small child working.

But even so, you couldn’t help but always give her treats every time you visit her. You treat her like she is family to you.

Upon hearing the Jade chamber story, you met Ganyu.

The more you spend time with her, the more she remind you of mitsuri.

You would always try your best to encourage her to at least eat something that will make her full and to stop worrying about how people look

The two of you enjoy each other company and cloud retainer seems to enjoy your company as well

You thought keqing was a cat when you first saw her, but when you look closer to her hair, you realize she’s not

You would try your best to make sure she isn’t always rest and to always remind her to at least take a break from all of her work

Going on ningguang Jade chamber make you feel like you want to jump, sadly Lumine kept a close eye on you to make sure your not doing anything that will kill you

Ningguang insist on buying you things that may not be necessary for your journey but not wanting to feel bad, you kept them either way

Xiao is another story, you both don’t mind each other presence yet you two don’t seem to be able to strike at least one conversation

He would randomly appear whenever you need to fight some monster, but that doesn’t really bother you

But what’s bother you is that, how is he always somewhere near you? You don’t call his name unless needed

Since liyue doesn’t really give you any information about another world, let’s hope that inazuma have at least a clue

Everyone at liyue is nice….

Why do you feel like you’re being watch or is someone taking pictures of you?

It’s probably in your head, there’s nothing to be worried about….

Right?

my dove in the glided cage.

gn! reader has been kidnapped by yandere fatui/archon - scaramouche/childe/zhongli

mentions of drugging / stalking / violence / kidnapping / manipulation /dubious consent.

what was meant to be an uneventful day ending on a tired note ended up with you blacking out, body in shock from the force of the heavy object that struck your head from behind. you could barely make out an imposing figure towering over you as you lost consciousness, the world fading out to black as you felt your limp body jostled against a broad chest. your last thought was a distant worry of your imposing deadlines until you found yourself awakening to an unfamiliar duvet, warm and smelling of cosy laundry and.. roses? you blinked several times more, wincing from the dull ache in the back of your mind and the absurd amount of flowers within your vision. they were placed in a large heart and felt like a bad joke to you, lost with the emotions of confusion and anxiety at your current state. what had happened after you fell down? why were you in this rather luxurious room surrounded by what seems to be rather exquisite and expensive roses? had you died and gone to heaven already?

if you were in heaven, it would’ve made sense as a man as handsome as an angel entered your space, his attractive features in a frown as he placed his palm against your forehead. “are you feeling any better, love?” he felt too close, sputtering and shying away from his touch with a loud shout. “who are you? why am i here? i-” whatever words that you had urgently tried to get out were cut off by his soft lips against yours, prompting you to try squirm away and only to be stopped by his firm grip around your waist. it felt like he was trying to devour you from your lips, his heated kisses not stopping despite your struggle. when he finally parted from you for a breath, he smirked at your aghast expression. “seems like you’re still confused after your accident. i thought that would help rejog your memory.”

my memory? how could you forget a face as wonderfully sculpted as his, like a painting or dream sequence in your sleep addled mind. but his tone felt convincing, so self assured and in your already disoriented state, you felt yourself giving in to his touch. “did i forget something? i’m sorry, i.. don’t think i know your name.” the frown reappeared in his face and you felt as if you should reach out to smooth the hurt expression. “i’m your lover, (insert your choice!) y/n. we’ve been together for all these years but it seems you’ve forgotten.”

his mournful tone tugged at your heart strings, feeling as if you had committed a great wrong and you reach out to him, apologies already forming on your tongue. “i’m so sorry, all i remember is falling down after trying to get home…” his face finds itself against your hands, his tense expression melting away and replaced with adoration towards your face, causing you to blush shyly. oh gosh, how could this man be yours? he clearly seemed intimate to you and even had an impressive array of flowers laid out for you. “it’s okay y/n… i found you passed out on my way home. you must’ve fallen and hit your head badly, i got a private doctor to come by and he said you would be fine with rest and lots of dedicated care from me. i’ll take all the time off work needed to attend to you and help you remember what you’ve forgotten love.” his honeyed words were so kind and sweet, you couldn’t help but feel gratefulness to the man. sure you were in a muddled state but he was there to take care of you wasn’t he? like on cue, your stomach grumbled and his attention snapped immediately towards you. “i’ve got food ready baby, just give me a second to get it okay? tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before walking away, leaving you to admire the roses and rest your body that felt the lingering effects of the supposed fall. the situation was strange but you felt oddly confident in the man’s affection towards you. you didn’t know however that the very man you just placed your trust in was in another room, adding a suspicious substance in your soup and humming to himself in pride for capturing his darling, at last. when he returns with the meal in his arms, you’re distracted by the allure of food and his flawless appearance fo notice the hidden glee in his eyes. his face lights up as he feeds you each bite, praising you for working so diligently towards your recovery and when you start to feel drowsy from the good meal, he’s watching you fall asleep, trapped in the home he’s made for you too. it’s so silly of you, to trust him, the very person who kidnapped you and drugged you silly to accept him. but it’s alright, you’re now stuck in his arms with no where to run.

ever since childe became your boyfriend, life seemed so smooth sailing. the professor you complained about to him? quitted not even a week later! your boyfriend is so perfect too, cooking you meals everyday and you sleep so well every night too. it’s almost too perfect, the amount of deep sleep you have. i mean it’s not like childe is a particularly clingy or needy boyfriend, hell, he only ever has sex with you when you want it. it’s just so perfect.

nsfw / dark content under cut <3 warnings: rape, somnophilia, drugging, noncon, stalking, yandere childe <3

so perfect for childe, that you have no idea as his trusting partner that he drugs your food everyday, lacing it with sleeping pills so you'll never wake up as he rapes you in your sleep <3 heart eyes. he's such a provider isn't he? he won't even bother you with his needs cause he'll save it for when you're knocked out from his meals, always waiting till you're deep asleep after eating right out of his palms. he controls everything in your life, getting rid of professors you dislike, researching your favourite foods to render you unconscious while he fucks your relaxed hole in the snoozing state. childe is so sweet, leaving you achingly well rested in the morning, asleep in his arms after he's used your body well <3

pairing: childe x fem reader (it can be gender neutral if you ignore the use of she pronouns like once or twice! i can edit it to a gn or male version if wanted)

warnings: major character death, suicide, yandere themes, reader was kidnapped by childe, angst is the vibe #enjoy if u cry lmk <3

note: my blog contains adult/dark content. please do not interact if you are a minor.

word count: 1.7k (not fully edited because we die like real men)

when childe joins the tsarita at the front lines to rebel against celestia, you had no worries at all. though you were kidnapped long ago by the man, your days were filled with nothing but peace and adoration from the once intimidating man who now is more like an overgrown puppy in love to you. he even gave you an affectionate nickname that had made your heart flutter, being his солнышко. you had even placed a gentle goodbye kiss to his cheek of your own will as he left the front door of your estate, spending your free time alone and missing him with fondness in your mind. there were days in the past where you were afraid of your situation, calling him a kidnapper, a fiend who had taken you from your life! though now you knew, he had freed you from a life of working to relaxing in his arms, being spoilt with countless gifts and genuine love from childe. it had been a stark contrast from your life without others to share it with, always afraid that they would be gone due to the ongoing tensions in teyvat.

so when your maidservant delivered the most shocking news of your life, it had basically killed you.

"lord harbringer is dead."

it should’ve brought you joy as his captive but all you felt was dread. he’s dead? childe and dead don't belong in a sentence, you scoffed to yourself. though the serious look from your maidservant didn't disappear from her face and you felt your heart wrench against your will as your eyes begin to fill with tears. "no! that's impossible, he wouldn't have died, he- he can't." a hiccup broke through your arising heaving sobs as you mumbled incoherently, "he promised me, he wouldn't leave me here alone." you found yourself, collapsed against your bed like a war widow, sobbing into the sheets in fear and heart break, it felt as if your world was ending. you weren't even scared as your captor had left to rebel against celestia but now? the sky had decided to fall upon you and leave you to die without childe's hand to hold.

the days moved on without you knowing as you sat blankly on your bed, watching the sunrise to no news and sunset with lonesome emptiness. if not for your maidservant, you would've remained immobile, sat at your window sill as if waiting, for childe to appear and smile with boyish cheer, letting you know that it was all a silly joke. when you felt your memory of his face begin to slip, you'd walk to the room with the giant portrait of you two, seemingly in love. nobody knows the truth behind the painting beyond the artist, childe and your gone self who had struggled as childe kept you beside him. "i don't want a painting with my kidnapper!" "oh baby, what will we show our kids one day?" "you're sick! i'm never having kids with you, ever!" how you regretted those words as you missed that very man every moment since the news of his sudden passing.

though you desired so desperately to be with him, the estate was always escape and death proofed, just specially for you. back in the times when, when childe had still been around and afraid that you would strike out against him. as if you could've, falling for the man with his sly words and broken promises before you could've even tried to leave. hell, if childe had offered you a way out like his death, you didn't even want to take it.

so on your birthday, it hurts your heart to sit by the dining table alone, a grand feast in front of you but missing the greatest present of all you could've wished for this year. childe, alive, goofily feeding you a plate and joking of a future with your children or you loving him. tears fell from your face as you chose a dish from the spread, taking his favourite seafood soup that didn't taste the same without him. to your surprise however, you noticed that the cutlery included a knife for once. it had been a long time since anything like a weapon was near you and it almost seemed too opportune. what else could you possible as for this year other than to join childe by dying? nobody could stop you, after all, you were practically all alone and hysterical in the estate without him! just why, why did he have to leave you alone until you had to choose this method to finally join him? you've missed him so much that stabbing yourself in the heart doesn't even hurt as much as the knowledge that he had left long before you and now finally, as your tears fall down your face from the pain and heartache, you can reunite with him.

unbeknownst to you and the staff of the mansion childe had constructed just for you, your daily activities were recorded in case of his death and sent to none other than the tsarita. yes, he was reportedly dead. but only to a select few, he was alive and recovering. childe had kept away from you, observing you instead with love in his heart. he had missed you the entire battle though he knew, since teyvat was no longer the same, you may had wanted to leave. so he let them know that he was gone, so you could choose while he recovered. it surprised him when you had instead stayed, apparently writing long letters addressed to him daily and wait for him by the expansive windows he had installed just for you. childe found it so sweet, his солнышко, waiting for him though he was currently needing archon treatment for the aftermath of his delusion usage. he had planned a joyous return as a gift, a present for your birthday. when he strided into the estate, announcing cheerily, "i'm home солнышко!" only to be met with silence, had an eerie atmosphere and the sight that greeted the man made his heart stop.

like a sick version of romeo and juliet, you lay dead, heart pierced for his eyes to feast upon. though he had seen carnage of battle fields and sights that demons would shrink in fear towards, only this struck him with pure terror, his mind filled with alarms and heart racing as he ran towards your limp form to find no heartbeat.

“no no no no, this can’t be happening. солнышко, wake up, this isn’t some joke. i’m home, love, please, look at me! look at me god damn it!” he’d sit the stiff body up only to look into your lifeless eyes, face drained of colour and clearly unwell. his heart ached as he sank to the floor, head buried in his hands from denial. “why? it’s your birthday dear… i came home. why are you dead?” the guttural yell of agony could be heard across the estate, causing your maid servant to hurry into the parlor only to see an impossible sight of the lord harbringer on his knees as you sat like a skeleton above him, unmoving like you were less than an hour ago. "tell me! why is she dead? what happened here!" the rage in his voice told the agent that their next words would cost them their lives if the answer was unsatisfactory though the emotions coursing through childe's body only had one outlet at the moment now that you were gone. to kill. "my lord.. i had left her to eat not even an hour ago to let her meet you privately when you returned. this situation- had never occurred to me would happen."

childe, rightfully out of his mind, felt the impulse to throw a dagger at the maidservant's throat though was stopped by his thought of you, who would've plead for their safety and to not stain the dinner table with blood. his heart twisted at the very imagination of you, pained that you were now unreachable, body decomposing by his very face. "i came home too late didn't i солнышко? i'm sorry." with his pride abandoned by the loss of you, childe stood up shakily to scoop up your cold body in a gentle carry while walking towards your bedroom. "i'll.. help you sleep. for as long as you need, my love." the world had been robbed of light for childe as you departed, his colourful spring that had finally come because of you, returned to the black and white desolate winds of winter that reminded him of the abyss. the underlings of tartaglia could observe over the next weeks his deteriorating health, haunted by visions of you everywhere he went. the estate was sealed up, visitors forbidden and business terminated as the harbringer spent his time alternating your favourite spots, his study filled with secretly commissioned paintings of you full of life unlike his stark reality devoid of your existence, and lastly your grave in a glass greenhouse filled with eternally blooming gardens.

one agent recounts to others in a mournful tone of his experience on guarding the estate at night shift, spooked by the sounds of sorrowful cries echoing the halls and seeking out the source, only to find the lord harbringer in tears in front of a dimly lit portrait of his deceased lover in his arms. another underling speaks of the long hours their master spends sitting by your grave, as if entranced by something that eyes cannot see.

they don't know that childe is plagued with visions that he had imagined to himself with cheer in the past as he read the reports on your activity, only to see you miserable in the places you were in the distant past. you always seemed to plead to yourself for death, so you could be with childe. the words haunted him constantly, through every waking moment until finally childe reached a stage of grief he couldn't stand anymore. "if you wished so dearly to be dead so you could be with me, so do i солнышко." in the hours without the sun, the lord harbringer childe's life was ended by his own hands to join his deceased lover, reunited by death under the crestfallen moon.

no thoughts, just childe hunting you down after escaping.

love ur writing btw, glad to have come across ur blog. been binging shamelessly a bit hehe >_<

thank you anon you're so sweet <3 !!! childe would become a predator chasing after his scared prey, adrenaline spiking when he catches you anxiously glancing over your shoulder as his gaze burns holes into your back. you think you've made it far? foolish thing, he's had his agents tailing you since the moment you thought you had gotten freedom and he lets you have your fun, of course if you spoke to a man a little closely, he would have to get involved but otherwise, childe waits until you feel completely safe before he strikes. the horror in your face makes it worth it as he wraps his arms around you in your new home, "hi darling, what are you making for us tonight?" acting as if nothing had happened though the edge in his voice lets you know that he's mad <3

Do you write yanderes? Cause the thought of yandere childe grooming reader to be his perfect wifey, like childe is 5 or 6 years older than reader and eversince they were kids he has been obsessed with reader. After childe's descent to the abyss his obsession intensifies and he gets aggressive everytime some one takes reader away from him. And as time goes on he gets touchy with the reader until he takes her innocence..........( idk if your okay writing this kind stuff but hahahaha just im giving you this idea if your also into this stuff, feel free to ignore if this is a no).

-angst anon

yes i do write yanderes angst anon, i love them lots and this is a great prompt <3 my only issue is the wording of grooming cs of neg assosciations w pedophilia which i dont think you mean - rather he primed reader to ever since youth? the touchiness is just so perfect, falling into the abyss just made his delusions so much strong that he believes that it's his right <3 i'll def write a dark lewd of this over the weekend mwah !!!!

training wheels with yandere childe

warnings: age gap (5-6 years), noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, nsfw, dark content, blowjob (m), yandere implications

note my blog contains dark/nsfw content. minors DO NOT interact and the content below is adult.

word count 1.2k - response to angst anon's ask <3

You’re the flowers of Childe’s spring, when he first meets you, you’re barely half his height and oh so precious, immediately capturing his heart as you stumble shyly into his life like a newborn foal - tender and young. Childe knows that he must protect you from the winds of Snezhaya’s winters and teach you the way to grow up as he’s older than you. He picks you up after every class whether it was when you first started school, guarding you from others like teachers and your classmates, making everyone laugh at such a sweet gesture to concerned glances when you’re more than capable of crossing the icy lakes by yourself rather than being princess carried by the teenager who gazes at you with pure adoration, excusing his actions with the fact he couldn’t ever let you hurt yourself, though everyone brushes it off, they’re just like siblings right? Right, he’s like her older brother. These whispers fly around the town, your ears covered by Childe’s gloved hands and your head leaned against his broad chest, snuggled warmly without a clue that Childe has your entire life planned out, to be beside him.

It’s a shame for Childe that his plans are briefly interrupted by his descent into the abyss though when he returns, he’s by your side more than ever, showing up to your house in the mornings and night, accompanying you to school or spending time in your room. You kept him sane within his time down there and now that he’s hardened with the knowledge of battle, he never hesitates to bare hydro blades at any person who approaches you rather like a guard dog. For others, they’re miffed at his aggression while you’re empathetic to Childe’s plight, choosing his side whenever others bring it up. “He fell into the abyss! It’s normal, don’t blame him!” You don’t realise that he’s conditioned you to believe his actions are for the best ever since your naïve youth, always clinging onto Childe’s words as if they were the verses of faith.

Never one to question Childe nor listen to others than him, you don’t doubt him nor even notice when his once innocent touches on the expanses of your skin become lingering, possessive and even lustful. Childe’s amber eyes watch your lips as they purse around a straw, pink tongue darting out to lap at the cream on your face and feels his pants tighten. He really regrets treating you to that milkshake, cause he has to jack off in the restaurant’s bathroom so you don’t realise what you do to him. When you climb instinctively onto his lap when it’s time to watch a scary movie, you don’t even flinch when Childe grips your waist harshly nor his hips rolling up every so often, convinced it’s just his body reacting to the horrors on the screen! You think you understand him, after all it freaks you out a little bit too, making you squirm anxiously on his lap and bury your face into his neck, whimpering at the loud screams emitting from the TV. Childe berates his past self for always luring you into his arms, wanting you as close as possible in the past but now, it’s torture having you so close yet so far, separated by clothes as your heat above his crotch drives him insane. He can only rush to the bathroom with an excuse of the film being too much to conceal his desire - though your saddened face makes him pause, he couldn’t leave you there all afraid by yourself, could he? He’ll just rub one out against you once you’re blissfully asleep, cradled in his arms so purely and untainted by his sinful needs.

Childe only gets more daring as time goes by, his touches becoming persistent gropes at the plush meat of your thighs and ass, acting all concerned with you, “You’re eating enough right? You can’t carry kids if you’re not healthy.” His hidden intentions always slip by you, used to his obsession with your status and capability to have kids, it’s just because he’s always wanted children right? You never think his kneading of your skin are for his benefit, nor do you ever wonder why you’re perched right above his bulge in his tight pants - he must miss you lots too. You only keep close to Childe, unwilling to be separated by his Fatui duties that leave you without him for days, it’s just so lonely without him! The townsfolk seem to avoid you and you’ve never had many friends outside of Childe anyways, he was all you needed. He’s always been there and has always taught you everything you needed to know, so why would you ever want anything else?

It becomes natural and incessant, Childe’s unceasing touches of you in increasingly lewd areas. You haven’t seen him for a whole month since he’s been on a mission and after he has you seated on his lap, his hands are wandering into your underwear, stroking your private parts as he convinces you that this is for your own good. It does feel good, your body tingling in newfound pleasure and folds soaking his fingers with juices that he laps up with a pleased hum, even urging you to have a taste. Is this normal? never passes your mind, only following Childe’s instruction with a curious face that shows you find the taste strange. To compensate, Childe offers you something tastier, he says as he lifts you off his lap and has your back against the sofa while he unbuckles his pants. Childe is above you, your face covered by a large appendage connected to his crotch that makes you wonder why it’s so red and long out loud. Childe just answers you with a chuckle as he guides the angry flushed tip towards your agape mouth, “It’s because of you, why not help me out by putting your lips around it? I think a kiss would make it feel better.”

Obedient to Childe without a fault, you’d press a sweet kiss to the leaking tip, precum decorating your lips as you wrap them around the tip, making Childe hiss shamelessly from the pleasure of your wet mouth surrounding his erection. His dreams of this moment can’t compare to the innocent look on your face as you gently suckle on his cock, just like the cherub angel you were when you two had first met. The thought of his plans coming to fruition and the sight of your virginal self latched onto his hard meat has Childe blowing his load like a prepubescent teen, filling your mouth with his seed until it overflows, years of lusting over you pouring out and dripping out the edges of your lips. Childe can’t help the way his dick twitches in interest, still hard despite cumming into your mouth, you’re just too much for him especially with the way you diligently gulp and swallow in his spunk - telling him cutely that it wasn’t so yummy! But you thank him anyways and tell him that you’ve missed him oh so much.

modern day childe is a country bumpkin and i wouldn’t have it any other way <3. huge ass family, predominantly lived in the south until he moved north for uni. his accent is thick when he was a student you could almost tell it instantly but when he was a professor it only came out with words like darling or morning. he’d take you out fishing and have you crying on his lap with a hardon after you try to degut your first fish, you claim to be so welcoming of his lifestyle but can’t do a simple incision and just remove it’s innards? he would have you watch crime shows (he’s definitely the most sketch crime major/professor known to man) or like the most white trash country shows (he’s really addicted to honey boo boo rn… you can’t tell anyone that he’ll kill you, literally) and he’s part of a crime syndicate that works inside his family restaurant that he always takes you too. modern day childe would deffo be a apart of the mafia or some organized crime family, he’d take you for winter breaks and move you down south with him when things got serious (as if he didn’t plan it the second he saw you in his one english class). he’s just an all around red blooded american! (he’s actually born in russia but after murdering several government officials at the age of 17 he had to move and switch his lifestyle ;) )

with love, degen anon <3

giggling because i know NOTHING about americans, i love it !!! i want his thick accent as he calls you darling and other pet names, (does it become stronger when he loses control of his lust for you???) and A SKETCHY CRIME MAN!!! oh my, he’s just so complex in a funny way i wanna kith him and see what’s so good about his silly little shows <3 CUDDLING W HIM AS HE TALKS ABT THE CRIMES AND HOW HE WOULD DO IT BETTER AND HE POINTS OUT A KIDNAPPING VICTIM WHOSE CHAINED UP TO THE KIDNAPPERS BED AND IS LIKE THATS YOU BABY :3 of course he would never treat you that way without your consent but imagine….

omg i forgot to mention the fishing part. HES SO MEAN WHY WOULD U MAKE UR S/O GO FISHING?!?!?!!!!