laven

red. it’s the colour of his eyes, the stain of the sheets after you give him the one flower only the human body can cultivate, the shade of your lips after he’s devoured them to plumpness.

it’s what diluc sees when another man dares to touch you, his flaming claymore searing the fool’s arm and the colour overflows in puddles over the floor - just like your pleasure when diluc moves his hips against yours, ecstasy endlessly flowing through your veins as if electrified. diluc’s anger can only be appeased as he lays his claim on you, kisses bruising your skin into blossoming hues of red and releasing his spend into your most intimate regions.

the white mix of your essences is the colour that pleases him the most and diluc decorates your form with it, his seed on every place he can reach. diluc only ever loses his rationality for you yet you love it (perhaps you favour his red hair and eyes too. so you understand his irrational obsession with the colour.)

a/n: trying to write little by little. something is better than nothing right? do you have some new year’s resolutions mi amor? do let me know in my inbox. i’d love to hear from you.

the fourth week consisted of another vaginal inspection but he decided to kick it up a notch by omitting the surgical gloves. when asked about it, he casually explained that your pussy is too tender for any rough texture, hence the bare hands fiddling with your folds, spreading it open. didn't matter whether or not that made sense, you trusted his judgement considering he's spent years at medical school and you know practically nothing.

if you think that'll be your last visit in a while — you are terribly wrong because that is when the manipulation truly begins escalating.

no longer are his words strictly 'medical', now getting more and more personal, leaving you shocked wondering when the check ups have taken such a sharp turn.

"you're too delicate to be handled on your own, sweetheart. you need someone to take care of you. and i mean really take care of you. who better to do that than a doctor, hm?"

suna gave you a mind-blowing orgasm that day by eating you out like a cave man, sloppily flicking his tongue over your swollen clit and your drooling hole. he’s vigorous with his pace, never once slowing down until your legs were shaking from overstimulation.

thinking about that incident makes your panties drenched before you've even stepped foot into the clinic for the fifth visit. and when he actually sees the effect he has on you? there's no turning back.

cupping your wet cunt, his sneering lips hover over your ear, blowing out a whisper, "look at you, putty in my hands. what would you do without me, dumb slut?

you can't satisfy yourself without my help. you can try with your useless fingers, vibrators or pathetic men that will care more about their own pleasure than yours – but nothing will ever compare to my fingers or my dick."

and though you hate to admit it, it is true. you haven't been able to cum by yourself ever since the first visit.

"this pussy is made for breeding. it is made to take my cock. do you feel how hard i am?” suna growls as he starts humping your thigh, ignoring your desperate mewls, “ take responsibility, baby."

once he fucks you raw on the cold inspection table, spearing you on his long, veiny cock, you could do nothing but go cross-eyed from his powerful thrusts. your brain dumbing down from the pleasure, no longer aware of your surroundings or the stuttering of his hips when he's coming to a close.

trailing his large palm over your belly, he chants like a pledge, "i'll fuck a baby into you so you know who you belong to."

sweet dumb girl for ayato to undress after the wedding, white silks being removed from your body for his lustful eyes to admire. he knew he loved you the moment he kissed you at the altar, you squirming under his lips, clearly unexperienced and unknowingly seducing ayato with every hesitant move.

you try to help him take off his garments but struggle to remove his lower body part, his kimono sash simply tied too difficult for you. he makes the mental note to teach you how another day or change to a style that you can help him into each morning like the dutiful wife you are. but for now, he strips himself bare in front of you and captures your lips in a heated kiss, hands spreading apart your legs as he devours your mouth.

your adorable flush as ayato pulls away and clumsily placed hands as you wait for ayato to take you has his heart doing flips and erection rising. no beauty compares to yours ayato thinks as he finally settles deep into your warm cunt, wiping your face of tears as you sniffle with a pained smile. "my lord, i'm ready."

ayato thanks the archons and his position as the commissioner for letting him snap his hips into your heat, allowing him to see your precious expressions as you mewl on his length. every moan and bodily twitch urges him on, to ruin your virginal self forever, make you addicted to the sensation of him inside you, corrupt you of your innocence, taking your first and being your very last.

after ayato's throughly pumped his load into your pussy, he's leaving a kiss on your forehead before asking you to go make him some dinner. really, he has the servants prepare it already but he wants to see you flush pink as you wobble out into the foyer, legs trembling and clothes all askew from your lovemaking. any worker can see how ayato's claimed you with the tell tale white cum leaking down your thigh and how he comes up behind you with a possessive arm around your waist. "bring refreshments for my wife and i. leave them at the door, for we'll be busy making an heir."

As the shop assistant wraps up the bouquet of pink and purple carnations, Childe’s mind drifts to thoughts of sparring with Lumine, when he could spend time with Lumine, memories with Lumine and just Lumine. It seemed like all he could ever think of was her, not even a second spared to you and when his daze is snapped by the complete bouquet, his practiced feigned charming smile sends butterflies into the assistant’s stomach, no wonder you couldn’t let go.

Childe approaches your door with the bouquet hidden behind his back, image of sweetness and not a traitor with his heart elsewhere. When he knocks, you’re at the door immediately and as his amber guilty eyes meet yours, you know. His thoughts must be on Lumine and not you, you could tell, you’ve been in love with him just too long to not know. Even as he thrusts the flowers into your shaking hands, you know that there is no love behind them, his feelings are reserved for another. You know who he pretends you are.

How can you compare to the one chosen by the stars as you stand as shaky as a leaf in Barbato’s wildest winds in front of the man you love? Perhaps the archons give you strength in that moment, gulping back your internal pleas to keep Childe by your side, you interrupt Childe before he gets to sway you with his honeyed tongue. “Childe, thank you for the flowers. Let’s.” You pause, hesitating to yourself as tears fall down into the bouquet.

“Let’s break up. You should see other people.” The tears threaten to choke you, feeling your heart break inside your chest and when you’re met with stunned silence, you gather the strength to slam the door, dropping the flowers to the floor as you begin to sob. It’s over. You’ve parted with Childe, the ghost of his once promised everlasting love and as the tears flow unrelentingly like a river, petals unfurl within your chest. Your once awaited spring with Childe have dug their roots into your lungs, bloodying your throat with agony as you hack up a garden, one Childe had planted inside you.

You’re reminded of him as the flowers of his bouquet begin to wilt, feeling your health begin to fail you. You know that despite finally letting him fade away from your life, you still treasure him beyond words and actions, having treated the flowers with care you know you can no longer give to Childe ( You repeat to yourself : He chose someone else over you. The flowers have no meaning.) What once were the beginnings of the disease, your throat’s flesh tickled by uncomfortable petals have begun to blossom into buds that make you choke in pain when trying to breathe. Sometimes, when it gets bad and your heart aches desperately for Childe’s warmth, your sink ends up rinsing blood and rotting carnations down the drain.

When you visit Bubu pharmacy, Qiqi’s soft mention of your state makes you laugh softly. How could you explain that you broke up with the love of your life? And that you’re now dying, but you did it for him. Because you love him. Baizhu’s sympathetic smile as he hands you a concoction to aid your deteriorating throat tells you that this is not the first time he’s seen this condition. Though you had never wanted to let go of these feelings, you’ve found yourself with courage in many unexpected moments recently. “Is there a cure?”

The man looks down at Qiqi who posed the innocent question that had meanings beyond the mind of a zombie child and answered in a somber tone. “Yes, but it involves cutting off your feelings for the person who made you this way forever. Sometimes, when you love someone very much Qiqi, it’s hard to do that.” Baizhu’s wisdom is like an old oak tree and his words comfort you temporarily as he speaks, though they only strike home as you’re struck by a violent coughing fit of fully fledged flowers, bloodied by the thorns scratching at your throat. As you collapse onto the floor of the pharmacy, supported by Baizhu and Qiqi, reality hits like winter to orchards, barren with the knowledge that you must decide. Your love or your life.

“Your condition is becoming critical… any longer and you will die. Will you take the surgery?” The outburst of petals, blooming as they fall from your bloody lips are a painful reminder that Childe’s moved on without you - he no longer loves you. Painfully ignoring the internal desire to keep your love for him and through blurry tears in your eyes, you accept Baizhu’s offer.

The long wilted bouquet from Childe sits by your bed as you recover from the procedure, their meanings lost to you as you tend to your health with Qiqi, whose forgetfulness only warms your days as your condition improves. “Remember me. I’ll never forget you.” Though somewhere in your heart, a part of you aches when you gaze at the vase of decaying flowers, you discard of them - they no longer hold any memory to you.

After the surgery, brighter days are imminent, smiling like a sunflower as you stroll through Liyue, Qiqi in your hand as you guide her to your appointment at Liuli Pavilion - a celebration for your complete recovery. As you pass by the glaze lilies, you pause to show Qiqi the way they sway and respond to song. With a nostalgic melody of forgotten love and marriage that brings joy, the glaze lilies dance along as you sing. Above the patch of flowers was Northland Bank and the familiar tune captures Childe’s attention, having not seen nor heard from you for weeks now as you recuperated away from his sight. A part of him feels guilt, relief and most of all regret as he hears you radiant compared to the misery he had seen you last. When he calls your name with a faux cheery “How have you been?” you only tilt your head sideways, a motion that he’s long observed to mean utter adorable confusion, and you reply, “Hello there, who are you?”