abandoned acc.

            A puff of warm air emits out of your parched throat and past your parted, quivering lips. A small pool of saliva accumulates just under your tongue, threatening to slither out of your wet cavern and trail down the corner of your lips. Your trembling fingers, spasming from the stimulation bestowed upon your smaller frame, writhe and coil around nothing, and your wrists and ankles striving to escape the restrains binding you to place.

                          Your eyes come to a fluttering close, swathing you in an encompassing blanket of complete and distant darkness as the thrilling sensation of a bulbous head of an erect and throbbing shaft prods delicately against your soaping entrance. The tip hovers in and out of your pulsating pussy hole, teasing you with the forthcoming of pleasure that only he can enact at the exact moment he desires. A thrum surges throughout your system as Thoma strokes his member up and down your slit, covering his tip with your essence before pressing once again to your cunt, but alas, never permitting you to the blissful abatement of your excruciatingly painful lust. He simply remains idling by the door to your entrance, knocking – teasing – but not once surrendering to his own needs even if is welcome.

                                                                      Enveloped in dimness and an irresolute silence, devoid of the comely sight that is your partner, you can only depend on your own ingenuity in order to appropriately construct an accurate image of no other than the respectable, gregarious, and tremendously adroit retainer of the Lady Kamisato Ayaka. His blond locks unraveled from his usual ponytail, elegantly streaming down on his back, his emerald hues overlaid with a sheen of desire, his unclothed, sculpted body towering over your own, his face dusted in the color of vermillion – oh, the things you’d do to see him in such beautiful state.

                     What once was the wordless sanctuary within the vast residency of the prestigious clan of the Kamisato is fragmented as a perceptible and sharp precipitate intake of air punctures through the thin veil of quietude when you feel Thoma’s girth inching further and further inside your hole. Rigidity falls over your nude form, and you wait for him to finally shove his member inside your pussy. But nothing happens.

                                                           Clicking of tongue – disappointment.

    “How many times do I have to tell you to stay quiet, princess?” You bite your lower lip as your feel a pair of calloused hands descend over your breasts. Slender fingers perform slow circular motions around your mounds, purposely avoiding touching your nipples. A part of you, the lustful part of you, yearns for more of his touch and the idea of arching your back plays in your mind. “You haven’t forgotten what will happen if you disobey me,” You swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the proximity between you and Thoma decrease, and his heat of his body hovers over you. A gratifying tremor runs down your right side as Thoma exhales next to your right ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck and shoulder. “Right?”

                                          Immediately, the act of disobedience dissipates from you. You understand what Thoma is referring to. Defying his orders equals to punishment. Truth to be told, his punishments are nothing short of pleasurable. But you’re a woman of status, a young lady from an esteem clan, a close acquaintance of the Kamisato Clan, a dear friend and confidant of Kamisato Ayato himself – misbehaving towards anyone, even if they hold importance or not, does not sit right with you.

                     The tone lacing his voice is indecipherable. It is as foreboding as it is mischievous. It’s times like these that you wish to read his thoughts through his expressions. However, sometimes, his smiles are far too unfathomable and on other times, one you most often find yourself in whenever he finally has you in his grasp, you have a long length of crimson silk eclipsing your vision. The faintest of light from scented candles around the room or the weak moonlight filtering through the blinds of the nearest window cannot pierce through the fabric. Thus, prompting you to rely on your other senses.

        You move your hands to grip on his hair, or whatever part of his body you can take a hold of, and your legs shift to wrap around his hips and tug him closer to you. But your actions are thwarted with the sound of wood and an abrupt blooming of pain around your wrists and ankles.

                                   A string of profanities echoes in the chambers of your mind as reality dawns over you. These bondages . . . so tight, too tight.

                                      With the same smooth material as what hinders your line of sight, your wrists are bound above your head, the back of your hands grazing against the headboard, and your ankles spread wide open for easier access to your cunt. Your current predicament is difficult and unpleasant, but you find yourself in this situation more often that you would like to admit that you’ve grown accustomed to the numbing pain surrounding your joints.

              And if you’re being honest with yourself, you do enjoy this treatment. As an only child of your family, all your life, people kissed the very floor you walk on and constantly shower you with gifts, affection, and respect. Thoma is no different from those people when Ayato first introduced you to him. But unlike them, Thoma is genuine in his veneration to you and to the clan he works under. His smiles hold no grudge or ill-intent, his laughter is not forced for the sake of a prosperous relationship, and the words he uses is very much like him, nothing like a man who is simply doing laborious work and being begrudgingly kind for the sake of his job and financial security.

                                      One drunken kiss behind the Kamisato Estate as Lady Ayaka and your dear friend Ayato entertain the other guests, a night full of pleasure, hushed moans of names, and your cunt plowed and filled with thick white cum, you and Thoma fall in a rather confounding relationship in which professionalism is jeopardized, but your bodily needs are sated.

                         Slowly, you two learned the desires of one another, and Thoma is not at all ashamed by his inclination to bondage and the idea of being completely in control of someone, dominating them and letting them feel everything of him.

                        Perhaps this is the very reason why everything has become a wee bit overwhelming. Knowing merely a fraction of the danger prowling beyond your momentary sightlessness to the world outside, a sense of harrowing encroaching your bound and vulnerable, nude figure. Had anyone with less than pleasing intentions step foot inside Thoma’s bedroom, stripped off any weaponry, physical liberty, and without a single garment curtaining, they’d think nothing of the consequences of harming a noble and take advantage of your defenselessness.

                        From what little light permeate through the fabric shrouding your sight, you perceive a deeper shade of black appear in front of you. Your digits quake as you feel Thoma lean over you, his body careful not to touch make contact with yours.

      “f you’re not going to follow simple orders, we might as well stop this now.” Thoma inhales. “But you don’t want that, do you? Go back to your room, aching for my cock?”

                                                  You inhale sharply through your nose, a puzzling amalgamation of fright and frustration infecting your thoughts. His threats are not empty words, and you learned this the difficult way that left you fingering yourself every night for a week, praying to all Archons who dare lend an ear that your fingers could be replaced by Thoma’s cock – all because you couldn’t stop crying when he was shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy hole (how can you not when he’s hitting places you didn’t think a tongue could reach).

                                            You don’t want a repeat of that hellish, agonizing week. Your fingers can never be enough for you, not after you’ve felt what a real cock is like. Maybe you should thank your father dearest for being conservative of you. Had it not been from his protectiveness, you might not have enjoyed being intimate with Thoma as much as you are now.

                        New experiences bring you to exhilaration. The meaningful and immodest glances you share with Thoma whenever he tags along with your walks around the estate with Ayato, the brief encounters in the corridors that either ends with the two of you breathless or one on their knees, taking the other with their mouth, the filth and endearments you whisper behind closed doors as you wait for the Head of the Kamisato Clan to put a dot on his tasks – the thought of being caught sends shivers down your spine, the thought of disappointing your own father has a sort of cruel pleasure to it.

  Being with a man without supervision is a foreign concept for someone as sheltered as you, and what more with an unconventional and secret relationship that seeks nothing but carnal pleasure from the other party? Surely, if your father ever hears of your escapades, and with a servant no less, he’d forbid your request for visitations to the Kamisato Estate.

                       But nobody would be hurt if you don’t say a word, no?

                                               You are thankful that Thoma has at least spared you from a gag, but still, speaking is prohibited in your current circumstances. All who reside within the Kamisato Estate are in a deep slumber, fatigued from their daily duties. Thoma warns you that the walls are thin inside the abode and that he strictly prohibits you from speaking, moaning even, saying that it might rouse others to an awakening. But you know the real reason he doesn’t want you to let out even one peep – control, he wants every bit of it.

                                                    And so, regardless of his question, you remain quiet.

             You can almost hear him sneer as the silence between the two of you prevails. “I wouldn’t want that either. We’re on the same page. It hurts me, too, having to punish my lovely princess just because she’s a little brat.” You hear a broken and shallow release of breath coming from Thoma. “I know you’ve learned your lesson. Your fingers won’t cut it anymore. You need something . . . better, larger, something that could fill up the tight pussy of yours.”

                        You simply shake your head as a response, and when you gather just the right amount of confidence to open your mouth, you mewl, “Cock.”

                    It seems your answer strikes Thoma with astonishment and for his lips are sealed for a moment or so, before finally recovering oneself. “I didn’t quite hear that. Care to repeat, princess?” From the playful cadence of his merry voice, you know he heard you clearly but chooses to feign oblivion. “I want to hear it loud and clear.”

                                          Had he been any quieter, you doubt you could have picked up what he is attempting to relay. You know the blindfold does nothing to hide the scarlet blooming unto your cheeks but at least you remain oblivious to Thoma’s broadening smirk.

                      “Oh? Now you’re being quiet.” Comes Thoma’s playful coo.

                      A single finger of his lands softly over the side of your face and costively, he trails it down your delicate flesh. You feel his tip rest against your pussy, and a glob of precum drips on your slit. “If you want something, you ask for it.” States Thoma. “Now, I’m going to ask again – what do you want, [ Your Name ]?”

                                                              This had not been the first time Thoma has gone out of his way to humiliate you. Thoma thoroughly enjoys his work as a servant to the Kamisato Clan and has never once spoken ill of his arduous tasks assigned to him. But certainly, no matter how much he finds joy in his employment, you know how taxing it is not being able to be in control and not once being a figure of authority. With you, this is his only chance where he can do anything without being ordered, where he can toy with you as much as he wants, where he can be the one being in command.

        And so regardless of any humiliating situations he puts you in, you merely suck in a deep breath, careful not to break the thin layer of serenity within the four walls of his room, and murmur, “Please,” You breathe in, “I-I need your cock . . . ”

                                    Coyness plasters across Thoma’s visage. That spell nothing but trouble for you.

                                               “Still a bit too quiet. Come again?”

                           The corners of your eyes turned to slits, and before you can comprehend your actions, you had already spoken in a clamor, “Your cock!”

                     Thoma hums in satisfaction. He takes his length in his hand and slaps it against your clit. You bite your lower lip, smothering back the whimper that threatens to roll out of your lips. “Where?”

                                                You swallow the saliva in your mouth. “In my pussy – mph – ”

                                  You are caught off guard when you feel your lips hushed to silence with a delicate grace of a finger. The words inside your throat withers, and confusion begins crawling its way up to you. His abrupt actions come to light as the sound of footfalls penetrate through the thin shoji door separating Thoma’s quarters from the winding hallways of the Kamisato household.                                                

                         “As I have suspected, they’re gone.” A familiar voice bellows through the corridors. “And they disappeared just as I was nearing the end of my duties.”

                    With everything that is transpiring between you and the Kamisato retainers, it had easily slipped out of your mind the real reason behind your visitation to the Kamisato Estate. Ayato had delivered a letter to you, an invitation to accompany him as he tends to his responsibilities as the Head of his clan. This arrangement is nothing foreign to you. You are used to keeping Ayato company in everything he does, his reason expanding to nothing but him seeking your presence.

    You and Ayato have a rather interesting history together. A tight knit friendship formed at childhood in which Ayato remains close to your side, standing as your protected from any external dangers like Hilichurls and other enemies, to take the blame to any of the consequences of your clumsiness or shenanigans. However, growing up, though your relationship never wanes, a tension clings between the two of you, one that is difficult to ignore, both from the two of you and the from close associates.

                                                              A kind of tension that if it was not for Thoma’s boldness, you are certain Ayato would have been the one plowing his cock inside your little cunny.

                                      Thoma’s member pulls away from your pussy almost immediately, aware by the new presence gracing the area. You whimper in disappointment and objection. With what little strength you have left in you, you gather the courage to risk of being caught and roll your hips towards Thoma, hoping to tempt him back to playing with your hole.

                                                        A firm yet gentle hand falls over your abdomen and with a single push, your ass meets the mattress once again.

                   “Princess, what is wrong with you? You’re being awfully daring today.” Thoma questions with a single shake of a head. Quizzicality and curiosity paints over his mien. You have no answer to offer him, even you are confused by your own boldness. “Ayato is just outside. We don’t want him walking in on us, right?” Chirps Thoma mirthfully despite the severity of the situation at hand, his previous sentiments forgotten. “Unless,” He leans down to your neck once again. A shudder surges through your body as his tongue pokes out of its confines and laps at a patch of your skin. “You want him to see us like this.”

                                        Although the blindfold serves its purpose properly, you cannot help but avert your eyes away from the direction Thoma is at. Ayato catching you in the act with one of his closest friend and best servant had played in your mind before. You’ve fantasized about it constantly, even in the most public location you could’ve found yourself in. Even in a solemn assembly among nobles, your mind drift to indecent thoughts including you, Thoma, and Ayato – an image formulates inside your mind, one encapsulated in libidinous.

                    Acts of vulgarity within the confines of your own quarters, on your back, arms folding your legs to your chest. You lie on Thoma’s chest, his hands fondling your mounds and the tip of his member easing slowly into your ass. Ayato, littered with sweat and short of breath, bends over you with his hands gripping your ankles and pushing them further to your chest, his large girth splitting you open. Both moan your name and whisper obscenities in your ears.

                                                                       Oh, how you wish this can become a reality.

                       A thick blanket of silence drapes over the bedroom. The foreboding atmosphere clogs your throat, impeding your breathing. You don’t know what exactly you should be paying more attention to – the frigid cold that nips at your wet cunt and hardened nipples, or the smooth pattering of Ayato’s footsteps against the pavement just outside the bedroom.

                                                     The quiet and stillness in the room seems to go on for ages. Though you may not see anything, you can feel Thoma hovering over you. You can hear him breathing near your face and his girth rubbing lightly against your slit. You can feel your juices slathering his cock, and his own essence drools from his tip to your clit, drooping from the very top and slowly drips down to collect inside your opening. Your toes twist and your fingers shake as you feel his pearl of precum protrude in and out of your hole, not dribbling down to the bedsheets and to the dampness that amassed under your pussy but never truly slipping inside you.

                Your body trembles at the feeling. At that point, you don’t know whether the wetness in and on your pussy his Thoma’s viscous precum or your own secretion.

                      You know the consequences of your actions if ever you gather the courage to disregard the authority Thoma hold. Once the doors are locked and the prying pair of eyes close to welcome their rest, Thoma is far from the sweet, considerate Mondstadt-born that he is.

      When everyone has their heads turned and attention occupied, somewhere in recluse spaces, Thoma savors the delectable sight of you writhing under his body, or whatever degrading position he has arranged you in, and finds utmost pleasure in seeing you struggling to please him. Callous and unpleasant words and degrading names spews out of his smiling brims, a complete contrast of his affable mien and honeycomb voice.

                                                                          In the eye of the public, his fingers wipe the tears you shed, and his lips consoles you with saccharine words. But often times, Thoma slams his shaft into your tight cunny through your tears and cries of pleasure and protest, providing you of little chances to catch your breath or even whisper out his name as the squelching sounds of your union fills your ears.

                                                          Ayato had been a keen, mischievous person since the beginning, and you would not be surprised if he knows of your improper relation with his servant. He always had ears listening against walls, and eyes never missing even a speck of dust crowning over his blade. However, Ayaka is another story.

                             To Ayaka, Thoma is her protector, an epitome of a true retainer. She has never seen Thoma take hold of your wrist and carry you away to an area far from the reach of prying eyes and ears, bend you over a surface and plunge his prick deep inside your wet cunt, slamming himself inside of you until your hole can no longer hold his seed. She has never witnessed her dear protector pushing your legs up to your chest and breaching into your hole with his long, flexible tongue, the prodding pink muscle going in and out of you, your precum veneering his tongue. She has never caught him pressing your mounds together and inserting his girth between them, his aching tip brushing against your lower lip, tainting it with tiny drops of precum.

                                              “Don’t make a noise, princess.” Thoma, after a long while of deafening pause, mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for your ears to pick up what he is relaying. “Who knows what could be brewing inside Lord Ayato’s mind if he sees us like this?”

                        A small, hardly audible gasp tumbles past your drooling brims as Thoma pokes his bulbous head by your entrance, knocking or rubbing gently against your folds.

                                   “W-Wait, T-Thoma, we shouldn’t do this – ”

              A small, and pathetic mewl emerges from your drooling when you feel your pussy being stretched out abruptly as Thoma enters you in one single thrust. Your pussy, on instinct, clench around the shaft forcing itself inside.

            Your words meshed into disarray as a pitiful mewl of disapproval emerges from your mouth when you feel his tip enter pass your clit, slowly – painfully slow – entering your pussy hole. Tears accumulate at the corners of your eyes as your walls stretch to accommodate the intruding member inside of you.

                                              Thoma places his lips over your ear, his hot breath meeting against your skin. A shiver run down your spine as he gives you a short peck behind your ear, and he murmurs, “I said don’t make a noise.”

                                                        And with a simple push, his cock enters you. An indecipherable noise sounds in your throat as he stuffs you with his girth. Thoma, hearing you, immediately takes action to alleviate the danger you might have garnered with your negligible blunder. His forefinger hovers over your lips, efficiently coiling your tongue within its confines. Your quaking fingers curl against your palms, imbedding against sensitive skin, threatening to pierce through.

                            You feel his presence seemingly enlarge as his body hunches over your smaller frame, his forearms resting on either side of your face, caging you beneath him.

                               A throat groan stumbles out of his mouth and flutters across your ear, causing a shudder to run down your spine. Thoma remains still inside of you, nudging his hips periodically against yours to force his cock head against your cervix. The feeling of a dribble of precum painting your cervix had you swallowing the lump that had manifested, unknowingly, inside your throat.

                                            His hips quivers as the sensation of your warm, velvety walls clamping down on slowly edges him to the brink of delirium.

             “O-Oh, f-fuck,” Grunts Thoma. His eyes closes, and he takes in a deep breath, his throbbing cock twitching eagerly inside of you. “You feel so fucking good, taking my cock like that.”

                             Time and time again, you never failed to discover yourself repeating the same sin over and over again with Thoma as a beckoning finger. But nonetheless, you are never prepared for whenever he pushes inside you, ploughing you with his cock. Your back arches and your irises gleam with yearning and carnality, a vociferous and prolonged wail penetrating through the ice of quietude.

                                        No matter how swift and firmly Thoma attempts to salvage the situation, it is a wee too late. The sound in the corridor comes to an abrupt halt, leaving the tense and eerie howl of the glacial, evening draft prowling through the residence, the whistle of it conveying a sense of foreboding, one that embodied with severity that it nearly suffocated you.

                  A stifled chirp of astoundment clips through your throat and out of your hushed lips as Thoma drives you further against the mattress, your body sinking into the soft material. The hand that pushed you retracts and winds behind your head, fingers grappling a knot on your mop of hair before tugging it down, forcing your head to meet the pillow.

                                   Your vision, shrouded with a confounding amalgamation of dark and light, struggles to adopt a focal point in which it could rest and recover. A dot of light filters over the thin silk surrounding your head and obscuring your eyesight. The material borders over the bridge of your nose, edging up and down as you helplessly grasp to soothe your breathing, the blank blackness that had once engulfed you gradually lessening, interchanged with an unclear outline of furniture occupying the space of the chamber and the welcome of murkiness as the strip of silk slips off your head.

                      “For someone who practically bows to every whim of her family, you can’t seem to obey the simplest of orders.”

                                                    Once you have regained your ability to see without a smirch of ambiguousness, the very first thing that welcomes you is the sight of Thoma hovering over your body. His attire, along with your own, piles down on the tatami flooring – a heap of adequate ensemble and lavish and glamorous strewn near the bedding – leaving him bear before your eyes, beads of sweat littering his chiseled chest and lean arms.

                                   Redness overtakes your cheeks, possibly in a richer shade as the one painting over Thoma’s entire face. His lips are parted to breathe and to decrease the resonance of his voice as he speaks with you. His blond locks splays across his broad back, an odd yet welcome alteration from his common appearance when tending his duties. You can feel yourself throttled by the weight of his overcoming presence looming over you. He lay no hands on you at the moment, and yet somehow, you’re drowning with in him.

                                          Many women swoon and coo at the sight of your dearest friend Ayato, and it is only your great fortune that most nobles and peasants are enchanted by the beauty of the Head of the Kamisato Clan that their gaze never cast over his trusted retainer. Certainly, there are those who acknowledge Thoma’s desirability, but the fact remains he stands behind the grander shadow of his young lord, no title or wealth to his name.

                     To you, it did not matter. You know many things and one of them is that in Teyvat, only he can sweep you off your feet.

                                                                          Your line of sight slowly trails down from his face to his chest and landing on your union. His pelvis is flushed against yours, his balls brushing firmly against your clit. His entire girth is pushed inside of you, throbbing.

                    Thoma runs his tongue over his lips as his burning stare bores against you. “You haven’t really answered my questions earlier.” He begins. “Do you want Ayato to see us like this?”

                                                                Your shake your head, a clear sheen of tears glossing over your hues. “No,” You whisper. “Archons, no.”

                                        You heard yourself speak, and there is no shred of doubt that you had told Thoma that you are wholly disinclined to have Ayato witness your affairs with his retainer. But your pussy squeezes around his shaft and a short thread of slickness droops from your cunt.

        “No?” A smile reveals itself to Thoma’s countenance. “Try that answer another time . . . ” Thoma drops his head down to your chest and licks your right nipple. Warmth spreads across the hardened nub and your smother back a squeal that threatens to emerge from your lips. “ . . . when your body isn’t saying otherwise.”

                         Thoma begins to move his hips in and out of you. Your teeth grazes over your lower lip, suppressing the moans and whines to yourself. But no matter how much you try to quiet yourself for the sake of you and Thoma, it is proven difficult when every thrust he makes – soft and slow – sends ripple of pleasure throughout your bound form.

                                            Thoma breathes out, swallowing after. “Why don’t we – ” A choked grunt rumbles out of his throat as the head of his cock brushes against your cervix. You close your eyes tightly. “ – play a little game, hm? You like games, right, princess?”

          Thoma draws himself out of you, his member dragging along your walls until his cockhead is the only thing spreading your opening. Your cunt feels hollow, empty, craving for him to fill you up once more but knowing how Thoma is to disobedience, you try you damned best not to protest and retain any vulgarities from rolling off your sharp tongue.

                                 He nods in approval of your silence and quietly, he ventures to his next course of action. Inhaling sharply yet nearly soundlessly, using his other hand, Thoma flicks your left nipple several times, watching intently as the nub harden and shift with a pleased smile. His hand, then, proceeds to softly caress your breast – tracing to the side, and slowly, slowly, moving under your breast until the could perform similar ministrations as he did to your nipple.

                                              You feel yourself beginning to feel hot as you grow increasingly aware of the stimulation Thoma is putting you through. The short and weak thrusts, the way he plays with your breast – they’re not enough, you want more.

                                                        “Aww, don’t pout. Why are you pouting, princess? Am I doing too little for you?”

                Your train of miffed and aggravated thoughts is derailed when Thoma breaks his own command, mumbling to you as his index fingers roll your swollen nipple against your breast. For a moment, you ponder if you had subconsciously spoken your mind when you were consumed in your brief stupor (certainly, this had occurred before – both in and out of the bedroom – and Thoma never fails to bring it up in appropriate situations to as his way of teasing you), but it takes you only a second to be cognizant of your mistakes. Your forehead was creased, brows knitted together, an inkling frustration breaking through your visage, and lips pursed in an act of both defiance and compliance.

                                          And yet, you deny.

              “No,” Your mutter, voice below audibility. “I’m not pouting, You’re just seeing things.”

                                                 Thoma chuckles but says nothing, to which you are immensely grateful for. With his large and callous hand, Thoma carefully takes your tit in his delicate grasp and

    Thoma lets out a short chuckle yet say nothing. Relief washes over you and the breath you forgot you had been holding back eases out of your lungs. You’re immensely grateful for his choice not to make any playful or teasing remarks and his mercy for not bestowing over you a small form of punishment for speaking.

                                 With his large and callous hand, Thoma takes one of your tits in his delicate grasp and brings the soft mound close to his mouth. A quiver courses through your veins as his lips purchases around your nipple. His tongue wraps around the tiny part, eliciting whimpers out of you. You wait for his stern and censorious stare, condemning you for making noises or even an abrupt stop to his ministrations but nothing of the sort came. As you are consumed with him, he is to you.

                     “T-Thoma,” You murmur, flushed cheeks deepening in color.

                                                                    Thoma withdraws from your nipple with a loud pop. Another low chuckle permeates from his lips. “Here’s the deal, princess. You try not to make a sound when I fuck you. See? Nothing too hard. It’s just that simple.” He flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue, a short string of saliva connecting your nub to the pink muscle. “You’ll be able to do that, right?”

          His hand unravels from your breast, and yet the part of your skin which his fingers had been burned, yearning for more. “It’s not that difficult. Even someone as sheltered and naive as you can follow something like that.”

                                           You gape at him, affronted by his words. Of all people, you recognize your advantage and disadvantage as a noble who had everything handed before her feet in a golden platter. You have broad knowledge of proper etiquette, Inazuman history and the nations beyond the raging seas, and how to handle political affairs. All these are expected of you, and you take pride in mastering all of them in an age where most children are spending their time outside, playing foreign games or bonding with their family and friends without a care to the world and rid of any responsibilities. You are quite envious of their carefree nature, but not that you would tell anyone of your secrets, of your insecurities – but then came Thoma, and he read you like a godly scripture, and listened to you as an intend Archon would to prayers.

                You open yourself to him, confiding in him of how little you know of playing games and following instructions of those who are not above you does not sit well with you, and you struggle to oblige to their commands.

                        Your mouth parts open to chastise him, but your thought process is unknown to Thoma, and thus, he proceeds to his own actions. His thrusts are slow, calculated, but each time he slams back inside of you, your whole jerks up.

    All slighted thoughts crumble apart as your toes curl and your walls rubbed as he rocks back and forth in and out of you. Your wrists and ankles strains against their restraints, but no matter how hard you struggle, how you strive to free yourself and touch Thoma, the numbing pain around your joints are what greeted you.

                                      A series of low grunts and growls leaves Thoma’s lips as slams his pelvis against your own, his balls slapping against your clit.

        The thick tears collecting at the creases at the corners of your eyes trickles down and streams down the sides of your face. Your digits coil and your nails draw against your palms, leaving behind them strips of thrumming pain.

                      The bulging veins running along his shaft massages your clamping walls. He plunges deep within you, the tip of his member hitting your cervix every single time, causing your pupils to roll back. Thoma grunts in exertion, the vibrant tint of his hues dimming and narrowing as your features contorts from pleasure.  Perspiration beads around his nude body and you can feel your own sweat mingling with his.

               “Thoma – ”

                               “Shut up.” Your lips seals in an instant at Thoma’s snap. “Do you want to lose the game, princess?”

                                            You shake your head, and Thoma flashes you a tight grin.

          “Then be quiet. Be a good girl for me, would you?”

                                                      You are no stranger to praises. You’re showered with it the moment you can comprehend words and the views of society, but something about Thoma praising you, especially amidst your intimate endeavors, awakens something inside of you, one that you suppress due to your aristocratic upbringing.

                        Your slickness spurts out for a brief second, breaking the chain of ice, cold silence in the room. You clamp down on his prick, sucking him in and unwilling to let him pull away.

                                         Thoma stops moving in an immediate, and his cock stills inside of you. Discomfort catches up with you. The lust and pleasure that built in between your thighs and abdomens vanishes, leaving you in a state of broken euphoria. A sob breaks through your lips, frustrations gnawing within you.

          “Shh,” Thoma slips his hand behind your head and pull at the knot of your blindfold. With a few twists and pull, the silk loosens and disentangles. Thoma flicks it away and plants a chaste kiss on your forehead. “You’re doing well. Don’t disappoint now.”

                                                        You stare up at Thoma, irises glistening with a new wave of determination. No words are needed for you to state that you will do as he pleases.

                                       Thoma, understanding your wordless conveyance, offers you a charming beam, one that has never failed to make your heart swoon, before leaning down and bestowing yet another kiss on your forehead.

        “Don’t forget – ” He adjusts himself above you, stifling noises of exertion. Gently, he pulls his hips back, his shaft kneading against your soft walls. “ – be absolutely – ” With a short, poorly smothered moan, he thrust back inside your pussy, balls grazing against your damp slit. “ – quiet.”

                                    Thoma lowers himself down the length of your body until you can feel his hot breath on your chest. You view him through a lens of a lover, his luxuriant leafy hues ogle as your breasts bounces in rhythm to his relentless pounding. Each time he fucks into you, curt groans spill out of his mouth and his blond locks skims against your forehead.

                                                              You had been intimate with Thoma many times before this. He had taken you every chance he got, whether it may be in an exclusive celebration, a festivity hosted by the Yashiro Commission, or even simply a dinner between nobles – he had you cornered and stripped to the very last article of clothing. Though Thoma adorns a mask of innocence, he is far from what he projects himself as. You have lost count of the times he had orchestrated a situation to deliberately place you in a humiliating position just to watch you squirm under his gaze and the weight of the presence of others.

                                   And yet something about him fucking you against the mattress right now feelings a bit more different than your common escapades. Somehow, the lewdness of the present moment is more prominent, and your tight cunny, can feel every single movement Thoma makes – his breath, his thrusts, how his muscles flex and strain.

              The need to do something – anything – is strong. But bound by the obedience hammered into you since birth and your feelings for Thoma, you cannot, especially with the restraints he had laid upon you.

                                            Thoma cups one of your breasts once again and caresses the nipple between his middle and ring finger. His tongue out pokes out of his panting mouth and licks his lower lip as he gropes your mound and toys with your nipple.

                           You inhale sharply, eyes closing tightly – “A-Ah – ”

                                                                     The Kamisato retainer spares you a glance but holds his tongue. He tilts his head to the side and licks your nipple, before slowly taking the perk nub in his mouth. Despite yourself, a sharp cry manages to pierce through your sealed lips and echo in the room. Your glassy eyes dilate as you realize just what you had done.

                                          Your body is gripped with anxiety and anticipation sets over you, waiting for Thoma to stop pounding your pussy and rebuke you for making a noise, but to your surprise, your inadvertent waywardness met with a reward. Thoma picks up his speed, his labored breathing slowly becoming louder and faster as he hammers into you. His balls smack against your slit over and over and his veins appear on his throat as his jaw tightens with frustration. He removes his hand from your breast and firmly places it back on the bedding.

Thoma gazes deeply in your glassy eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the lump in his throat. Even in his labored breathing, Thoma whispers to you, “My beautiful princess, [ Your Name ]. I don’t know what – ” He chokes on his words. “ – what I’ve done to deserve you but holy fuck, I’m making the most of it – ” He gasps as your pussy braces against his length. “I-I want to be inside you a-all the time.”

                            Your fixated stare blurs for a split second as tears shrouds your vision. You can only perceive a vague silhouette of gold, emerald, and brown, but you can feel him watching you, admiring the mess he made of you. “Thoma . . . ”

                                                The two of you are absorbed in your own small world, in your embrace, in the pleasure the two of you share that it completely slipped out of your mind the other person lurking outside of the bedroom. It only dawns you two when calm and calculated footsteps approach your chambers, growing deafeningly louder as they draw nearer and nearer.

                                      Ayato! I completely forgot about him!

                                                                Fear seeps in your system and blood rushes to your ears, thumping over and over until all you can hear is your heartbeat. Thoma turns rigid and once more, his cock stays inside of you, throbbing and tip trickling precum against your cervix, but still completely still. You tremble and writhe at his stillness, tears of vexation crumpling at the corners of your eyes.

                                     “Thoma, please,” You mumble to him. “I want to cum, please, please move – ”

                The entire bed jolts forward, inciting astoundment in you. The wooden bedframe smacks boisterously against the wall behind it as Thoma rams deep in your pussy all of a sudden, causing a shrill whine of the springs to bound against the walls. Your moans intertwine as Thoma reaches a particularly soft area inside of you.

                         He drops his head on your neck, his warm breath and strands of hair tickling your flesh. “[ Your Name ],” He stammers out. He leaves your name by a thread, and you wait for him to continue speaking, but he merely leaves trails of soft kisses on your neck.

                                                    Be quiet, please, Thoma. Your eyes glimpses over at the shoji door. It is crafted out from opaque material, and yet somehow, in some morbid twist of illusion, you can distinguish a shadowy outline from beyond the inner doors, icy hues seemingly gazing into your own pair of eyes.

                                    “Do you like that princess, hmm? Such a good girl, you’re being so good for me.” Praises Thoma, smiling down at you with adorning his striking features. His tone of voice is bantering and curiously strident for someone who wishes not to be seen by his superior in a degrading position. Has he given up on his previous notion and strives to make the most of an exciting opportunity?

                                Thoma huffs, “Always trying to please everyone. Don’t know if you’re stupid or cute.”

                                                                 Again, thinking nothing of the presence standing outside of his quarters, Thoma drives his cock in and out of your pussy hole. His movements are laced with abandon and there is a lack of concern of how loud his pelvis meets with your own. The squelching noises pierces through your eardrums. With the tone of situation, the sonority of your union is seemingly amplified, and this is so yet without your own moans and whines as a contributory factor.

               Your fingers quiver and flex, your throat constricts, and your legs fights against the restraints bounding your form on the bed. You mewl, voice breaking, “T-Thoma,” Ecstasy grips you as yet another powerful thrust hammers into you, skidding your body against the bedframe.

                                                                                        Your toes curl and a sob disrupts the deteriorating silence blanketing the room as you let Thoma do whatever he wants to you. Again, you wait for him to chide you for your transgressions, but he did no such thing.

                   Thoma breathes heavily before you, shoulders tense with effort as he fucks you. “Say my name again, let’s see where that’ll get you.”

                                                        You did not know what possessed you, but his words shoot straight between your thighs, and you managed to rasp out his name, poorly it may had been articulated.

                                The corner of Thoma’s lips curves up, and he lets out a short chuckle. “So bold. Not afraid Lord Ayato will see you like this?”

                                                  Your lips purse. “I-I – ” You could not find the appropriate words to deliver, and you only end up stumbling over your words, beginning and scraping a sentence. When you do finally compose yourself, at least the best you can when your hole is stuffed with a large, swollen cock, you breathe out, “I’m not the only one. Y-You don’t seem to mind either.”

                                                          A small, quiet, and lewd “ah” tumbles out of Thoma’s trembling lips. In sync with his own sound, his pounding falters, the rhythm he had maintained deteriorating as your squeeze tight around his stiff shaft. Some of his thrusts are soft, and some painfully hard. Beads of sweat embellish his warm body, a droplet from his forehead trailing down from the crown of his head before falling on your neck.

                  Thoma’s eyes close and he speaks through gritted teeth. “Shit, I’m close, princess.” You can feel his cock swelling inside of you – twitching, leaking – all too ready to fill you up with his spunk. His thrusts continue to stutter more and more so until you’re simply receiving sporadic movement. Nonetheless, he does not relent, his mind consumed simply with shoving his girth deep inside your wet snatch. “Very fucking close . . . ”

                                                                          As soon as the last three words left his lips, your pussy clamps down on his prick, hard and unrelenting. You can feel everything of him, from how he breathed to how earnestly he was trying to please you, to fuck you until you’re rendered helpless, senseless.

                Thoma manages to paint a smile over his visage. “You’re close too, huh?”

The satin around your wrists and ankles tighten as you attempt to move away from Thoma, Ayato's footsteps deafening to you as it steps in front of the shoji door.

                       The satin banding your wrists and forcing your ankles becomes taut as your body resists Thoma’s advancement, fruitlessly edging yourself far from his larger figure. “I-I can’t anymore – need to cum – ” Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel a sharp pain against your thigh, efficiently surrendering you to silence. “ – Thoma – ” A sob drips out of your mouth. “Please, let me cum!”

                                              Thoma did not seem to hear you, or he refused to lend you his ears. His ragged breathing begins to snag in his chest and his posture ever so slowly crumbles, wavering as he ruts into you.

                                                                              “Don’t cum yet, don’t you dare.” Thoma heaves out, eyes closing tightly. He clutches the underside of your thigh and sets it against him, driving him – somehow – deeper inside your hole, much, much deeper than before.

                                 A mewl spews out of your mouth and your head burrows against the pillow behind you as he keeps himself inside you. He rotates his pelvis, drawing costive circular motions between your thighs.  His movements are slow and deliberate, teasing your womanhood, your slit – “Got to make sure you’re gaping wide open for me when we’re done.” Thoma drops his head to the crook of your neck. His teeth grazes against the soft flesh, dragging them in irregular patterns before sinking unto your skin. The pain blossoms quickly, but it alleviates just as it came. Thoma places the base of his tongue on the laceration he had created, lapping up the blood that oozes out.

                           The sound of Ayato’s footsteps resounds against the walls, and it is all you can think about, even as your body quivers underneath Thoma, even as Thoma grinds his length in you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

                 Ayato, please, for the love of the almighty Shogun, don’t come in.

                                    Troubled thoughts race in your mind, and sure enough, Thoma – who is wholly engulfed in his own world, one that is simply eaten with lustful endeavors and the need to fill your pussy up with his cum – is obvious to the dilemma that seemed only you care about. He locks eyes with you and lets out a chuckle at your pathetic expression, teary eyed and close to your own release.

                                                            “You’re squeezing so much – you really want to cum, huh?” He mumbles, voice so quiet that it can barely be considered a whisper. “You’re going to cum on my cock, yeah?” Thoma releases a puff of air he had been holding back. He drops himself to his forearms, his face a mere inch of hair away from yours. Giving you a kiss on the lips, a lingering one that it almost made you forget about the danger that lies behind the doors. The bedsheet crumples under his clenched hands. “I’m going to fill you up – so fucking much. Do you think your parents would mind a peasant’s child?”

                                                                                      You couldn’t help it. You know exactly what Thoma is trying to do, and he knows damn well that he is executing his scheme perfectly. Your parents are quite the traditional pair and one that bends before the rules of noble decorum – and you were no different. As someone who is born from a prestigious clan, you are expected to be wed with someone of the same prestige as you – someone who understands your values, beliefs, and responsibilities, someone who could becoming a lending hand when everything is seemingly submerged in murky torrents, someone who you can share your views and burdens – and throughout your life, everyone had thought the man you are to spend your life with is Kamisato Ayato, and you assumed the same. He, too, had publicly claimed before the Inazuman nobles that he intends to marry you.

                                       The weight of expectations and duties astounds and frightens you, and having a child is not even accounted for yet. If you ever find yourself carrying Thoma’s child, a foreigner in a nation in which he found himself stranded in after a tragic incident at sea, it will birth a massive scandal.

                 The thought of being filled with Thoma’s cum and becoming pregnant causes your pussy to tighten around his long and hard shaft. It was wrong, it was forbidden, and yet your body refuses to share the same sentiment and continually responds to Thoma’s lecherous ministrations.

                                You whimper and mewl as your body grinds against Thoma, your warm and soft walls refusing to let him go despite the dangers of being pregnant.

                                                              At long last, Thoma draws back and gazes down at you, a moan dribbling out of his mouth – “Cumming – ”

                                                                    The first spurt of his hot cum splashes inside your pussy, painting your walls white. You shift your head to the side swiftly, cheek resting on the soft fabric of clothed cotton as Thoma relentlessly fucks into you, keeping his semen deep inside your tight, wet cunny. His moans are loud and unrestrained, and you are more than certain that at that point, everyone in the spell of slumber in the Kamisato Estate has awakened and perplexed by the interruption.

           “[ Your Name ],” His voice staggers as he breathes out your name. He grabs your hips firmly and slams your hips against his, burying his spunk within your soaping pussy. An array of moans and mewling spills out of your mouth as he plunges his long and hard cock inside your abused hole, your tits bouncing over your chest and the noises of meeting skin resounding boisterously in his chamber. Vestiges of circumspect be damned, none of you hold tactfulness on a pedestal, encompassed with the carnal desire for one another. “S-Shit, so tight, so good.” He audibly swallows the spit that had accumulated inside his mouth. “You’re driving me c-crazy.”

             Endless stream of semen continues erupting from his swollen cockhead, shooting in your defenseless womb. You can feel your abdomen bloating as Thoma shoves his slickness deep inside your snatch. His warm puff of air permeates pass his lips panting lips as he takes one hand off your waist and rests it over your distended belly.

                                 Regardless of the sheen of tears decorating your orbs, you stare into his eyes and your stomach knots when you discover that he had been gazing at you in the same passionate and welcoming manner, but something about his gaze is different from yours. There is a flicker in his hues, but you cannot distinguish it with accuracy as you swim in your hazy reverie. Longingness, was it?

                                                                        “[ Your Name ] – ”

                                           “[ Your Name ], I . . . ” You take in a long and deep breath, anticipation swathing you. “I think I’m . . . ” He licks his lips, the supposed longingness in his eyes gradually dimming as reluctance clouds over them. A brief pause ensues, thought after thought bombarding his jumbled mind, and after mimicking your own action of expectancy, his leafy pupils glisten with newfangled conviction. “ . . . I’m in – ”

                     The sanguineness that embodied your entirety fades in wisps, substituted by horror and chagrin when the wraithy rattle of the shoji door opening dawns your ears.    

                            “Ah, well this is an interesting position to find myself in.” A familiar voice shatters the ice of tranquility formerly residing in the room, inflection laced with piqued curiosity and raillery.

    A loud, and long rope of succinct blasphemy spouts from Thoma’s mouth. He doesn’t bother casting his furious sights over his shoulder to identify who the individual that had interrupted his time with you. He already knew, and so did you. The suffocating high that Thoma had delivered you to, one that you nearly succumbed to, dissipates all too quickly for your liking, completely dilapidated by Thoma’s hurried withdrawal from your cunny. His arms engulf you and pushes you against his chest, covering your nude figure with his own.

            Tears prod at the corners of your eyes as you whine in protest and dismay. The emptiness in your pussy is eating at you, practically begging for you to do something, to plead for Thoma to put his member inside your womanhood once more. But you can’t do anything but squirm in the discomfort of the feeling of your gaping hole drooling out Thoma’s cum, from your slit and slowly gathering in your rear end.

                    His girth rests on your clit oozing out small wisps of his secretion over your pussy. You thought it was over, you thought he had given you everything. You are completely filled to the brim, his thick and hot load overflowing out of your pussy lips, your stomaching bulging and yet his cock is still hard, twitching and with precum leaking from its tip.

                              His right-hand darts to the side of the bed, snatching the covers dangling precariously before carefully wrapping it around your form. Instantly, warmth surrounds your form. “Don’t move.” Thoma plants a soft and brief kiss on the tip of your nose before he gazes over his shoulder, lean frame rigid in tension.

            “My lord,” Thoma acknowledges disruptive presence in the room, but there is not hint of affability palpable in his tone of voice. “I didn’t know you’re still awake.”

                    You couldn’t find it in your weary self to mirror Thoma’s resoluteness. The thought of locking gazes with your dearest friend – still wedged in a compromising and less than ideal position – didn’t quite tickle your fancy at the moment. Ala, what you can do is bury your pink tinted face on Thoma’s chest, digits scrunching.

                                  There is no sound between the three of you, not even a pin dropping. The only thing thumping against your eardrums is the loud, piercing white noise and your shared heartbeat with Thoma. Thump, thump, thump – in some peculiar coincidence, your heartbeats in sync with his, and that consoled your disconcerted spirit.

              You can only construct a vague image of Ayato, one that your horrified and melodramatic mind had horridly amplified. Clothed in robes of satin and cotton in the same color his clan is commonly associated with, a mask of curiosity and fascination ornamenting his features, the enigmatic and indecipherable smile painted over his brims, mirth playing across his eyes – Ayato may be your close friend, and one that you have conflicted feelings and views with, but he is still a shrewd and clever man whose source of entertainment is questionable, such as the given situation.

                                  A small noise of astonishment voices in your throat as you feel a hand of Thoma’s sliding to your back and pressing you against his chest, shielding you from the prying eyes that is the mischievous – undoubtedly – sights of his young lord, while the others cards through your soft tresses as to offer at least some semblance of comfort.

                                                    “You’d know if you actually stayed to keep me company, just like what I’ve asked the two of you.” You hear Ayato chuckle. “You know, you two need to be reminded of your manners. Haven’t your parents taught you that being loud in late evening is rude? Others are trying to sleep. I don’t know what I’ll say if the other servants – and God forbid – my little sister come to me to complain about loud noises they’ve heard.”

                        “Right, right.” Thoma murmurs breathlessly, nose wrinkling. “My sincerest apologies,” His choice of words is wise and respectful. However, his tone suggests the opposite. “I was . . . ” He spares you a sparse glance, appraising your state, before reverting it back to his superior. “ . . . distracted.”

            “Busy, you say?” Ayato hums out incredulously. He doesn’t bother hiding the fraudulence of his sentiment. “You have to paint a clearer picture for me, Thoma. It’s quite late and my mind isn’t functioning as good as it does in the day. Do tell me what it is your – oh goodness, sorry,” He clears his throat. “ – what exactly it is you’re distracted with.”

                                       Conniving bastard!

             If anyone was to be averred as unwise, imprudent, and obtuse, none will dare mention the name of Kamisato Ayato. You have spent a great deal of your life attached to the hip with the only son of the Kamisato clan, and his smile may be embellished with wisteria flowers and his word dripping with sweet honey, none must fall prey to the fraudulence he perfectly presents himself with, he is a very, very cunning man whose amusement comes from the discomfort of others. Archon knows how you could have survived being with that man when you were a child.

                        As you reminiscent your younger years with your broad perception of the world and its workings, you had been Ayato’s center of attention, and to others, it may sound adorable – or daresay, romantic – but in actuality, it is far from so. Much like Thoma, Ayato finds joy in manipulating the environment or a situation to place you in a distressing position. This rather odd quirk of his is not something that evaded your parents’ attention, but the pair thought nothing of it, claiming that he does this out of affection for you and he will grow out of it as he enters adulthood, and he seeks to mature himself.

                                 Clearly, as he stands in Thoma’s bedroom without consent or even the courtesy to announce himself, that is not the case. He’s still as maddening as when he was a child.

                  Thoma did not supply him an answer, only tugging you closer to him until you can hear his heart thud against your ear. You’re extremely grateful for his silence for once.                

      “Fine, fine, you don’t have to answer.” Nonchalantly dismisses Ayato. “I had been calling the two of you earlier. When none of you came, I had my suspicions you two would be together.” He temporarily pauses. “And that Thoma would be deep inside you, [ Your Name ].” He chortles. “I’ve still yet to be proven incorrect, I suppose.”

                                                                       A soft tint of scarlet paints over you countenances, and warmth swathes your fatigued physique, courtesy of your recent indecent exploits with Thoma while Ayato idles behind the door for Archon knows how long, you did not think the predicament you’re caught in could progress to an even more humiliating and demeaning height – yet here you were, eaten away by humiliation and miff as Ayato revels the two of you and the quandary he has ensnared you in.

                             Thoma didn’t give a response, and you’ll be damned if you even dare open your mouth. Thus, Ayato continues. “My best friend and my closest retainer, gone at the same time at the same room they’re supposed to be in, constantly. It isn’t hard to piece things together.”

          Thoma breathes in sharply. “Again, I cannot express how sorry I am, my lord.” Fire flickers in the pit of your stomach as Thoma, as unobtrusively as he can, rocks his erect shaft on your folds. Your throat constrict and contract as your walls clamp around nothing. “We . . . ” He clears his throat, staggering with his words. “ . . . f-fuck . . . ”

                      You whine at the blond. “Thoma, what are you doing . . . ” Your mind is imploring to your conscience, to stop Thoma from indulging in his fantasies while his young lord is in your presence, but your cum stained pussy aches for him to fill you up again. You grind yourself on his cock, meeting his soft thrusts.

                                            “Hmm?” You can imagine the Head of the Kamisato Clan tilting his head. “My, are you still trying to make an excuse? I don’t think you can. Not when the truth is quite literally entangled before me.” He utters. “Now the only thing to determine is the state of the truth. Say, Thoma, [ Your Name ],” He calls. “What do you say your relationship is? Of love? Of lust? I’m still treading in dark waters here.”

                                                                          You bite your lip as Ayato’s query registers in your mind. Your grinding decelerates and your head tilts up to gaze at Thoma, a questioning expression etched all over your visage. You have always believed Thoma felt the same for you, that there is genuineness and passion behind your lascivious feats. But to your horror, he avoids your eyes, an unreadable mask glazing over his face.

                     Thoma . . . ?

                         Thoma halts his antics, his cock simply resting between your pussy lips. You wait for him to answer, a flickering speck of hopefulness still alight within you, but after a long agonizing prevalence of silence, darkness and the burden of reality sets over your shoulders.

                            “No,” You murmur. “No, no, no, no.”

                                            Thoma blinks at you, worry plastering over his face. “What?”

                                                      “You’re kidding me.” You shoot him a deathly glare. You could not even conceal the brokenness and pain in your voice as you stare at him, tears prodding in the corners of your eyes. “You – after all this time – ”

  You are quite to take note of the dilation of Thoma’s pupils and the distress that adorns them. “Whatever you’re think, it’s not like that, princess!” You flinch at his loud exclamation, and he recoils, though his troubles remained as visible. “You know how I feel about you. I know you do.”

                      You study him, features hardened. “No, I don’t Thoma. Not at all. At least, I thought I did.”

                                                Ayato lets out a chuckle, and to that, Thoma’s expressions contorts to one that exudes of mild irascibility. This change from him come as a shock to you. Thoma has always been cordial and protective over his young lord – as his position as a retainer requires – and is regarded as responsible and dependable older brother to both the siblings. Thoma has never expressed any grievances to the orders of the last remaining members of the Kamisato clan and is always at the ready to become a catalyst to whatever they wish to happen.

        Seeing him breaking his character which all of you had been used to – it took you aback, and if you are being honest, you wouldn’t mind seeing this rebellious side of him more often.

                 “Ah, it seems I’ve sparked an argument in the wrong time. I had no idea the two of you have yet to name your relationship. Sorry about that.” The way he chirped his words playfully didn’t make his accounts sound any bit of sincere.

                                            “Why are you here, my lord?” Once more, revering words, brazen voice.

                           “Don’t make it so obvious that you don’t want me here, Thoma.” Ayato laughs.

  At the declaration of his young lord, realization dawns upon Thoma, and in an immediate, he’s rendered shameful and mortified of oneself. “No, that’s not – what I mean – ”

               “There you go making excuses again.” Ayato heaves out a sigh. “I’m done with my work for today, and I’d very much appreciate if the two of you find . . . somewhere else to do your activities. Not only for my sake, but for the other residence as well.”

                                Irritation swells in your chest, and you can almost taste it in your mouth.

                                                                                Archon, he’s having quite the fun teasing us. You thought. I’ll give him a piece of my mind after this. A beat. That is if I still have any face to show after this.

                          Thoma lowers his head, the top of his head gracing gently on the side of your neck as he resumes rubbing his length against your slit. “I agree, my lord. And I’ve love to. But I’m afraid . . . right now, that’s a difficult thing to accomplish.”

                                     “This is the first time I’ve heard you complain about something being too hard.” Ayato clicks his tongue. “If you have the time and strength to shove your cock inside [ Your Name ] while speaking to me, you’ll be able to do what I’m asking you to.”

                                          Redness takes over Thoma’s cheeks and his hips stops moving once more. “I-I was not shoving my cock – ” He takes a moment to breathe in, trying to calm himself. Even Thoma knows well that Ayato is trying to get a rise out of him, out of the two of you. “ – I’m not doing anything to her.”

            Another bout of playful and irritating laughter. “Alright, alright, I was only teasing. You don’t have to pout.” Verbalizes Ayato. “You can’t stay here unless you’re certain you can keep things quiet. Everyone has duties to tend to early in the morning and they wish to get ample rest. I can’t have you ruining their sleep. What exactly is so difficult about find another place?”

                        “I am well aware of their duties, my lord. I’m the one providing aid to them when they’re swamped. What I’m trying to say is . . . ” For someone who is giving the impression of an embarrassed servant, Thoma manages to slip his girth in and out of your opening, the head of his cock slipping through your entrance and withdrawing after. “ . . . I’m in no position to leave . . .”

                                                             A picture of Ayato raising his brow enters your mind. “Elaborate.”

                                           You watch with fascinated hues as Thoma struggles to find his bearings. He isn’t used to being put on the spot like this, much less with his lord being the perpetrator.

                                   “ . . . I’m hard . . . ”

            Harrowing and deafening the quietude that envelops the room could be described. The white noise is horrendously excruciating and intolerable, and your chest tightens as disgrace crowns over your form. You could not even focus on Thoma’s erratic heartbeat and how his cock is slowly edging inside your pussy. Never in a million years you could have ever thought you’d be placed predicament like this.

                                                                           A small part of you wishes that – in some miraculous twist of fate – Ayato would leave things at that and hold his tongue for any snarky or playful remarks, but really, what did you expect of him?

                   You know Ayato heard him, you know his ears are always listening. And yet, he feigned obliviousness. He hums, falsifying perplexity. “Come again?” He muses. “You’re . . . ”  

                                    “Come again?” Utters Ayato. “You’re . . . ”

                    Thoma swallows. To you, it seemed he’s in physical pain as he’s forced to repeat his answer. “ . . . hard.”

                                                                                                     You can feel your blood boil underneath your skin once Ayato’s laughter reverberates in the bedroom. Thoma cusses under his breath, nettled and unamused by his master’s reaction.

              “This is a surprise, a pleasant one!” He sniggers. “Here I was, thinking today will just be another bore of a day dragging on until late night, but you two . . . you didn’t have to brew up this charade for me, but it has certainly made my night. I cannot begin to thank you enough for this.” A sense of urgency surges throughout your system as you hear the slam of the shoji door. Your wishful thinking formulates a fantasy in which Ayato bestows upon you and Thoma a piece of his mercy, but all hope of suck thing crumbles apart as Ayato’s slow and muted footsteps – akin to a prowling predator – resound in the room.

                                     You whimper, restless. Thoma, seeing your reaction, trails soft kisses along your throat. “Hush, princess. It’s just Ayato.” He reassures. “I won’t let him lay a finger on you.”

A second after he had finished talking, you hear the sound of fabric and cotton skidding against the floorboard and thudding softly against the wall next to the bed.

                    Thud, thud, thud. Ayato ventures into the room with calculated strides and a tuneless hum. He walks aimlessly across the room, the solid sound of his footfalls haunting you. “Yes, it’s just me, [ Your Name ]. You don’t need to be scared.” You hear a sound of fabric and cotton skidding against the floorboards and thumping softly against the wall. “I didn’t make you feel endangered when we were involved with one another before, right?”

                                                      Closer, and closer he ventures – until you catch sight of Ayato’s figure standing beside the beddings, eyes closed and a fabricated smile gracing his brims. The darkness of the night is present, and yet Ayato maintains prominent in your sight.

                   How can one man be so beautiful even the shadows cannot clothe him in the color of the abyss?

                                                 Your pussy involuntarily clenches around Thoma’s swollen tip, and a whimper comes tumbling out of your wet lips. The manner of how Thoma abruptly came to a stop in his small ministrations made you come to a conclusion that you have made some sort of mistake. It did not sink into your mind as to what exactly and you could only gaze at the retainer in quizzicality but witnessing the glimmer of mirth in Ayato’s hues and a sheen of jealousy in Thoma’s, it did not take long for you to recognize your error.

                                          Your awfully, wonderful mistake.

                            Ayato, however, does not say anything (which you and Thoma find rather unsettling), to which flowered reluctance and distrust inside you. Rather, he quietly takes his seat on the zabuton he had kicked into place, legs tucked underneath him and hands resting over his lap.

                                                                                 His azure-colored eyes fixate on your smaller frame. No matter how hard Thoma strives to obscure his vision by embracing you tighter and concealing you in his arms, you cannot escape the interest of Kamisato Head, not when he has the capability to go through drastic lengths to achieve or possess what he desires. You had seen this firsthand and still, you cower from him, shielding yourself by burying yourself on Thoma’s chest.

                                                  As you shift in your position, you feel the satin wrapped around your wrists tighten, eliciting a yelp from you. Alerted by your movements and sound of distress, Thoma pulls back, completely forgetting about shielding you from the young lord. “O-Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, princess, let me – ” Gently, he lowers you back to the mattress and with one hand, he reaches above your head, fingers fiddling with the bondage connected to the headboard to untie you when out of the blue, Ayato interjects.

                                     “Don’t move.” Thoma is quick to halt his actions at Ayato’s stern command. Be it from the obedience hammered into him in his time as a servant to the Kamisato family or the astonishment that struck him, Thoma places his hand over your wrists, fingertips grazing the cloth that binds you.

                         “Don’t move?” Repeats Thoma, tone questioning and confounded. “Why?”

              Ayato nods, his enigmatic smile not once wavering. “Don’t take it off.”

                                “What?” Thoma breathes out, forehead creasing. “Why-Why not?”

        Ayato cast his gaze to Thoma. You let out a deep sigh of relief once you were released from what chains you as his object of interest. You watch as the two of them lock eyes with each other, a silent war waging between the two of them.

                                       “You’re in no position to question what I ask you to do.” Even as he spoke, his expression remains unchanging. Still the same mystifying smile that not even the familiar of the Raiden Shogun can read to her leisure. “You simply follow, that’s all.”

                                                  Thoma breathes out. “I understand that well, my lord,” He spares a glance down, darling pair of eyes shimmering as they caught sight of you. “But not when she’s involved.”

                   “Interesting.” A hum thrums Ayato’s throat. “You’ve always been a kindhearted man, Thoma. In different circumstances, it’d be endearing and admirable. But there’s something I’d like to know.” A feeling of dread curtains over you. Did your eyes deceive you? Or was it your ears? Regardless of which had been bewitched of cognizance or illusion, the thudding of blood in your skull and ears did no wain. “If you’re to choose between duty or your own desires,” Ayato directs his line of sight to your direction once more and he did not fail to find your eyes, drawing you to a trance. “Which will you choose?”

                       Distress decorates Thoma’s features, and though you do prefer one answer over the other, you understand well as to why Thoma is finding difficult providing his lord with a response. Considering the debt hanging over his head for the kindness of the Kamisato clan after the calamity that struck him in the rage of tides by sheltering him and putting clothes over his back, there is also the seed of loyalty that had sprouted and expanded its roots around his soul; defying orders of anyone in the Kamisato clan is not something he could stand with.

               “Ayato.” You begin, voice hard and stern. You’ve grown accustomed to setting this inflection whenever you wish to speak with Ayato without the jest he commonly reserves to his close companions. Ayato holds this on a pedestal, swearing to you that your words shall be taken with solemnity whenever you wish to establish such voice. He had promised so at a young age, and you thought he had completely forgotten about it, but to your surprise, he did not, and he kept his word.

                                Aforementioned figure nods once towards you. “Ah, [ Your Name ], finally, I’ve been wondering when you’ll join in on our conversation.”

                                                Of course, he knew what he was doing.

                                 “Don’t push Thoma to a tight spot like that. He doesn’t have to choose between you and men.” You nuzzle yourself on his heaving chest, and you can hear his palpitating heart slowly fall into a state of calmness. “Don’t waste your time answering him, Thoma. He’s just being the annoying man he had always been.”

                                              Thoma remains quiet for a brief moment. It seems, despite your words of comfort, Ayato’s question has greatly disturbed him and placed him in a state of doubt. “My loyalty is to the Kamisato clan, that is with no doubt.” Hesitation grapples him and an internal conflict breaks through his façade. He opens his mouth as to say something but quickly, he shuts it, succumbing to the hands of silence.

                                 Ayato waves his hand. “Calm, Thoma. I was only teasing. Don’t overthink it.”

                                                                              You have long lost your trust towards Ayato, at least in this current time and place. Thus, rather than being consoled by his assurance, you can only swallow the spit that gathered inside your mouth.

               “I’m not going to let this slide, however.” The humor on his face is erased, leaving him with a blank, indecipherable expression. “I think it’s time for me to take into account the many times you’ve left me to the turmoil of my work and set my foot down.”

                                       Thoma drops his gaze for a second, pondering over something before speaking. “What-What are you talking about?” He inquiries. “Do you want me to do more work? What is it – ”

        Ayato shakes his head. “No, no, none of that. You already have so much on your plate. I couldn’t ask you to do more, and the Head of the [ Last Name ] would have my head if I use their daughter for my own gain.” He assures, and you feel Thoma easing slightly. “What I’m asking you isn’t difficult, and I can assure you both of us will benefit from it.”

                             Ayato folds his arms over his chest, his smile morphing to one of shrewdness. “I only ask for one thing,” He turns to said person, and he freezes, anxious of his young lord’s order. “I want to watch you fuck her.”

                                                                Thoma’s features contort with apprehensiveness and detestation. “My lord – ”

      Your eyes, colored in fright and bewilderment, dilates. A clamor of objection escapes from your mouth, one that startled Thoma and caused him to pull away from you – “No – ” – and you trash against the bonds constricting your body. You shoot Ayato a scorching glower, and yet even as you bore holes into his form, he is unrelenting, still poised with an assured smirk.

                        You’ve witnessed many of Ayato’s tomfooleries, most of which you are involved but no harm has ever come to you. But you would have never thought he’d stoop as low as this, taking advantage of you when you’re in a more dire state.

                                                                And yet arousal pools in your pussy, walls fluttering over nothing.

          “Kamisato Ayato,” You spit out poisonously, hues glinting with rage. “Are you insane? It-It’s absurd you’d even begin to think I’d allow something like that to happen! I will not let this ha – ”

                                                  Ayato sighs. “I wasn’t speaking to you.” Your tongue coils back inside its confines, and what little confidence you had vanishes. Ayato reels his gaze back to Thoma, the mischief that left earlier now making its return. “I was talking to him.”

                                     Thoma swallows, corners of his eyes slanting. “My lord, you can’t be serious. This is – is going to be a large scandal – ”

            Ayato raises his hand towards him, and immediately, Thoma obliges without much of an objection. “A scandal? It’ll only be one if anyone lets the word get out. I can handle all the gossiping servants. But you two – none of you are willing to get anyone know of what we’re doing, right?” When none of you answered, he smiles. “And please, call me Ayato for now. We’re all friends here.”

                                “Fine.” Curtly replies Thoma. “Ayato,” He nearly spits out his name. “You’re not changing my mind. I will not put Lady [ Your Name ] in a position like that, not even for you.” Without any more word to be relayed to his lord, Thoma rises above you and untangles the satin swathing your wrists.

                                        The moment the materials slides down to an unknown corner of the bed, you clumsily scramble to a seated position and wrap your arms around Thoma’s torso, burying your flushed face on his chest. He whispers your name in a soft manner and returns your gesture.

                                                                      You can hear him speaking, comforting you as he embraces you. However, you can only shrink yourself to his encompassing hold as shame grips your heart.

                         An itch forms between your legs. A wanton need for a cock to fill your pussy gnaws at you, and simply rubbing your thighs together does nothing to alleviate your prurience and arousal. Reigned by your own thoughts of desire and lust, you inch closer and closer to Thoma until you feel his cock brushing against your folds. You didn’t even let him react or say anything before rubbing yourself against him, his tip smeared with his precum and your essence.

               Thoma groans your name. “Please, princess, not now, not yet.”

                                        “But I want you Thoma,” You whimper, and you accentuate your words by accelerating your pace. He chokes on his own spit and his hands falls over your waist. “I need you.”

                                                        “Isn’t it wonderful that somehow everything just falls into place?” His voice calm and collected, yet a speech of peculiarity can be distinguished. “Well, Thoma, are you just going to let your princess stay like this? I don’t know about your preferred play in the bedroom, but I know you’re not that mean to keep her waiting.”

                         You’ve known Ayato for so long now that at the scarce moments in which overlapping passions chips through his mask, and you acquire a glean of truth in them. This was one of those rare instances.

                 Vexation, vehemence, chariness, and much to your surprise, reluctance, all trained over Thoma.

                                “What’s with this bold proclamation of your loyalty to the Kamisato Clan if you’re just going to disobey me?” Ayato, with an elegance expected of a noble, leans closer to the bed and extends his arm. His finger cinches over Thoma’s chin and forcibly makes him face his young lord. “Did [ Your Name ]’s rebellion get to you or something?”

                          You shift your gaze towards the two of them. A calm and constant lake sculpted Ayato’s features, opposite of what Thoma looked as he returned his scrutinizing stare, festering and fostered of turbulence.

          “You can say anything you want but you’re not going to make me do anything she doesn’t want.” Thoma declares boldly, unyielding towards Ayato and his provoking remarks.

                         “Oh, you’re not? I see,” Ayato inches closer towards Thoma’s face, gripping his chin tighter. Thoma’s expression hardens, however, the shade of scarlet over his face darkens. “Then I suppose you’ve given up on what you’ve told me before.”

                                    Confusion swaddles you. You tilt your head up to catch Thoma’s eye, but his vision is fixed on the Yashiro Commissioner, glaring. Thus, you regard Ayato, “What are you talking about?”

“Typical of you. Always walking around shards of glass around her even when she’s like this.”

              Ayato removes his grasp around Thoma and hover his hand over his jeering lips, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh, then you haven’t told her. Surprise, surprise.” He laughs. “I thought you’ve told her already considering how much time you’ve spent together.” Your tongue shifts to spit out poisonous statement, but Ayato carried on without so much of a glance at you. “Yet you’re still walking on shards of glass around her, even when you’re fucking her. Very interesting, and equally entertaining.”

                                                    The corners of Thoma’s eyes turned to slits as he observes Ayato. But he says nothing.

                           Ayato continues, “Shall I do the honor of telling her?” His height gradually towers over the two of you as he rises to his feet. He perches himself beside the you two and tilts Thoma’s head up by lifting his chin with his index finger. “She deserves to know just how dirty your mind really is.”

                                          That resolute mask that had adorned Thoma crumbles, and panic seizes him. His fingers scratch against your waist. “Don’t.” Comes his fretful response.

                              You alternate your gaze to Thoma and Ayato, studying both of their demeanors. A string of tension clings between the two men, one that you have never seen before. The two have never fought outside the boundaries of jest. Seeing them in an exchange that had no trace of warmth and pleasantry stirred anxiety within you.

                     “Thoma?” You call out to him in a whispering manner, and still, he doesn’t give you any attention nor indication he had acknowledged your voice. You know he heard you. “What is he talking about?”

                                                                           Thoma, finally, turns away from Ayato and looks at you, panic-stricken. He clears his throat and his hands run up and down your sides. “Nothing, princess.” He exhales.

                                             Ayato lowers his hand. “Nothing? It’s the furthest thing from nothing, [ Your Name ]. You won’t believe what’s playing in Thoma’s mind.” He beams towards your direction. “I believe he wants to tell you all about it.”

                The blond is quick to interject. “No, I don’t.”

                               “No? Hmm, that’s fine. I can always do things on my own.” Ayato poises himself. “A few months back, after a day in which both of us are kept on our feet, Thoma and I decided to drink some sake before retreating to our chambers.”

               “M-My lord, please,” Thoma begs, emerald eyes pleading.

                                                                      “My lord? Didn’t I just tell you to call me Ayato?” The Yashiro Commissioner scoffs. “Then I’m more obliged to tell more.” He resumes his tale. “We don’t know the accurate number of sake bottles we’ve consumed but it’s enough to get even our resilient housekeeper to become completely intoxicated.”

                                        “Just stop!” Comes another imploring from Thoma, to which Ayato heeds no mind to. “Can you listen to me for once?”

                                                                  “It’s no secret that people tend to be more open, honest when they’re in the influence of alcohol. At first, it was just Thoma being clumsy and spewing out story after story of his time in Mondstadt and at his work, but not long after, he mentions something that’ll surely pique your interest.”

                                       At long last, the last dust of patience Thoma holds on to disappears, and he snaps. A loud and sharp cry of surprise breezes past your lips as Thoma throws himself to Ayato. The latter looked especially taken aback by his reaction. Thoma is never the one to aggressive and because of this knowledge, Ayato easily lowers his guard, trusting of his housekeeper, retainer, and above all, his friend.

             He must have shared the same amount of shock as you because he could not process quick enough Thoma’s actions. The plummet to the floor with a loud, resounding thud. You take the blanket close to your chest, trying desperately to get the cloth to cover your nudity before assessing the situation behold in front of you.

                    Thoma hovers over Ayato, hands settled on either side of his head. You cannot even capture a glimpse of Thoma’s visage as his untied golden tresses curtain his face. He doesn’t seem to mind his prick twitches on his abdomen and precum leaking down his young lord’s clothed crotch.

              Ayato, on the other hand, composed himself rather quickly after recovering and was gazing up at Thoma with a triumphant smile. Ayato’s hands remain unrestrained, but he does nothing to free himself from Thoma’s dominance. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with how things turned out, even when he found himself knocked off the position of authority.

                                                “If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you tell her?” Chimes Ayato, smirk broadening. “It’s either you or me.”

                                 Thoma’s locks sway as he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have to say it if you didn’t bring it up.” He murmurs. “I’ll never say it. There are only a few people I don’t want to disappoint, and she’s one of them. If she finds me disgusting,” He seethes. “I’ll hold you accountable.”

                                         Your chest tightens and your finger dig deeply unto to the covers clothing your form. The dejection and fear in his voice – this is not like that Thoma you know.

               “Thoma,” You call him, and when he did not turn, you repeat once more in a louder voice. When he whirled around to acknowledge you, tears encrust his eyes, and the feeling of hurt worsens. “What is it?” You outstretch your arm and brush your palm under his chin. Thoma closes his eyes and hums in the comfort for provide. “You don’t have to be afraid. It’s just me.”

          Thoma’s eyes turn downcast. “That’s the problem.” He heaves a sigh. “You’re you – you’re a noblewoman with a family name that everyone recognizes. I’ve already crossed the line, sleeping with someone of a higher status . . . ” He shakes his head once more in dismay. “ . . . I-I just don’t want you to think I’m disgusting, with my fantasy and all.”

                                 Fantasy . . .

                                                            Your eyebrows furrow down, and your shoulder slump. “Thoma, I don’t think you even have the guts to think of anything deprave.” You assure. “You mean a lot to me; a lot more than you think. So please, just tell me what Ayato is talking about.”

                  Thoma’s finger clench against the pavement, nails marks appearing against the wooden floorboards. “I . . . ” He trails off. “ . . . I’m sorry. I really can’t say it.”

                                        Ayato produces a scoff, to which Thoma scowls at. “Must I really do everything here?” Without warning, Ayato thrust his hand against Thoma’s chest, making the diligent housekeeper to fall back, hands flailing as it failed to purchase over a leverage. A grunt escapes Thoma’s lips as Ayato crawls over on top of him, straddling his waist with own weight, and pins his wrists over his head.

                                     Thoma closes his eyes tightly, his throbbing girth squirting out a large pearl of precum down on his abdomen. An odd noise passes through his seethed teeth.

                  “What are you – ” Thoma struggles against Ayato’s hold to no avail. “ – let me go!”

                                       Ayato trails down line of sight down to Thoma’s shaft, and chuckles as he realizes what conundrum he has forced him to. The silver haired Commissioner rolls his hips forward once, his clothed cock rubbing against Thoma’s. “No,” He murmurs. Before Thoma could shoot back a retort, Ayato retracts and turns his head towards you. “He told me he had a fantasy of me watching the two of you make love.”

                                                          Your heart hammers rapidly against your ribcage and you shoot a look of incredulity and shock towards Thoma, but he simply shifts his head away, avoiding locking eyes with you.

                                       The redness on your cheek flourishes. You hold the covers closer to you, and you close your thighs together and rub together, trying to ease the discomfort pooling in your wet cunt. “I – ” You clear your throat. “ – Thoma would never think of something . . . atrocious like that . . . ”

          And it is true. Thoma had initiated numerous sexual exploits, several that had pushed your boundaries and pushed you to your limits, but never once has he admitted to fantasizing about another individual being present in the same room as the two of you and watching as he takes you. Of course, it had occurred to you that there are just things that he was not yet comfortable sharing with you, dreams and insecurities included, but considering how protective he is whenever men who has the intent of stealing you from his arms and how overcome with silent jealousy he is if he sees you conversing with a politician or another noble of the opposite sex, it has never once dawned you that Thoma could have a bold and objectionable desire.

                  You are the treasure of your family, the holder of the future of your clan, a woman whose hand is sought and fought after. Your family believes there could only be one man to ever see you in all of your glory, and that should be your husband. You do share the same belief as your parents – you’ve always believed Thoma will be the one you’ll wed with and if your parents object to your decision, you are more than prepared to elope with him.

                                                  As such, even toying with the thought of having another man with the two of you as Thoma has his way with you, it stirs a turmoil inside you.

                                  Thoma, once again, says nothing, too consumed with humiliation to defend himself. Tongue-tied and flushed in crimson, your dearest lover stares against the wall next to him, veins bulging against his throat as he clenches his jaw.

             Ayato closes his eyes briefly. “You’re right, you’re right. Perhaps I’m mistaken. Perhaps I’ve misheard Thoma’s nonsensical spouting. Thoma would never.” The Yashiro Commissioner grabs hold of Thoma’s jaw and poses the blond male to look at him straight in the eye. “But by all means, Thoma, deny it, would you?”

                                You wait in a state of anticipation, waiting for Thoma to deny Ayato’s allegations and usher him out to continue your escapades before his interruption. But Thoma remain still and eerily silent. Ayato scoffs mutely and releases Thoma from his hold before trailing his hand between his thighs.

    A lump form in your throat as you watch Ayato’s fingers wrap around Thoma’s cock, not stroking him or teasing his tip, just grasping his shaft. He squeezes his manhood and a droplet of his slickness droops down on Ayato’s finger. Thoma breathes in sharply and a tear stream down the side of his face.

                                                            A puff of warm air emits from your lips. You couldn’t look away from them. Your eyes watch in curiosity as Ayato toys with Thoma’s cock. He wasn’t doing anything particularly stimulating, and yet your pussy spasms over nothing.

                          You shake your head, ridding yourself of such impious concepts – goodness, how would your mother think of you if she was ever to sift through your train of thoughts – and instead, bestowed your sights over Thoma. “You don’t actually . . .  want to do that, right, Thoma?” You ask him, but your tone of voice betrays the hopefulness in your voice. “Right?”

                                                   You wait for him to deny the allegation, stammering his words as he fruitlessly attempts to collect himself and make up an excuse as to why his young lord would be so damned adamant to tell you about such tall tale. However, Thoma does nothing, simply scattering his vision on anywhere but you.

               Fuck. A curse echoes in the chambers of your mind. He really does want to do it .

                                      “Please, [ Your Name ],” His voice sounded pitiful, one you didn’t think you’d ever hear coming from Thoma. At long last, as soon as he gathers his courage, he takes in a deep breath and locks eyes with you, shame and guilt glittering in his hues. “I-I can’t lose you.”

                                  Your lips purse, completely flabbergasted by his pleas. This is the affirmation you’re waiting to receive.

       “I’m not going to force you to do it.” He mumbles to himself as his eyes trails away from you once more. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to. It’s just a fantasy, a dumb stupid fantasy.”

                                                                   You don’t allow your eyes to stray from Thoma’s figure. Ayato unhands him but does not remove himself on top of him. He, too, stares at Thoma, yet his gaze is clouded in dark mischief and intent. Seeing Ayato like this never failed to send shivers down your spine.

                          You force down the lump in your throat, and you feel your lungs swell as you inhale. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You whisper, head hanging low. You can feel both men staring at you, waiting for you to continue. It feels like you’re put on the spot, and you squirm in discomfort. “You won’t lose me over something like this, Thoma. It’ll take more than a few fantasies to chase me away from you.”

                                                                              You wrap the blanket around your form, and you carefully drop down beside Ayato and Thoma. Your strength, compared to Ayato’s, is weak. Like any other prominent clan, you and your family have an art of your own but rather than honing your skills, your parents have decided to make you focus on your etiquette as a lady and as their heir. Ayato knew of this disparity between the two of you and had taken it upon himself to be your protector, even if someone had already been hired to be your retainer.

                                 However, at times when you lay your hand on him as in a shove, all that he had gained from his own training and hardships vanishes, and he submits himself to your actions.

                 You position your hands on Ayato’s shoulders and shove him as gently yet firmly as you can possibly manage. You know he is more than capable to restrain you even if Thoma is still in his captivity, but he relents, letting himself be pushed off.

                                            Thoma sits up and before he can poise himself and adequately recover from Ayato’s previous actions, you take the blond in your arms and capture his lips. He turns rigid at the feeling of your embrace and your lips on his. You could feel his hesitance to reciprocate your affection, uncertain if you had simply adopted a guise as to lessen the mortification he was dealing with out of the goodness of your heart. It takes him quite a long while to gather the pieces of his broken composure and returns your embrace and kiss wholeheartedly.

        His cock jerks eagerly against your clit, more precum sliding down to your opening. He is the one to first pull away. Embarrassment and ignominy for oneself is written all across his mien, but he holds your gaze. “I-I don’t mean to – ” A stuttering mess he was. You cannot make out any sensible statement from his incoherence.

                                To subdue his restlessness, you cradle his face and gently caresses his cheek. In an immediate, Thoma pipes down and all he can do is stare at you, wide eyed and upset.

                                              “Thoma, it’s okay, really.” You reassure him.

                                    Your consoling words did not reach him, and he could only shake his head. “No, no, it’s not okay, I mean, look at me.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to say. “I-I’m just a washed-up citizen of Mondstadt. Then-Then this – having this repulsive fantasy about you, it’s not something I deserve. I – ” He doesn’t seem to remember what he was trying to say, and his words withers from his tongue. “ – it’s not acceptable. And I know you’re not going to allow this sort of thing, but I still entertained it.” Quietness. “I don’t know what else to say.”

                                                                        Your hand fall from his cheek and engulfs his cock into your earnest grasp. “Not something you deserve. Oh, Thoma, you have no idea how many things you deserve in this life.” He sucks in a deep breath at your touch and stroke, and if you had focused more on the subtle sounds he makes, you could have discerned a gasp of your name. “What makes you think I won’t allow it?”

                                                                    Thoma throws his head back as you begin stroking him up and down. He gulps, “I don’t know. I-I just . . . ” He groans and his hips involuntarily humping into your palm. “ – I just thought – ”

                                                              “That’s right. You just thought.” You trail your eyes away from his own pair and appraises his erection. Your thumb nudges across his tip, rolling the head of his cock and smearing every inch of it with his own precum and the residue of your own wetness. “You haven’t even asked me about it.”

                                              Thoma lets out a stuttering breath. “I’m sorry, princess – ah – ” His fingernails scrape against the flooring, creating an uncomfortable noise to pierce into your eardrums. “ – I wish I could have brought up this up in a better time.”

                        “Don’t take credit. I believe I was the one who brought this up.” A shiver runs down your spine as you feel Ayato’s looming presence behind you. He acts in such a way a fox would – quiet movements, scrutinizing gaze. You did not even hear him move as you preoccupy yourself with Thoma, nor did you notice his existence until the moment he reintroduces himself by speaking and laying his hands on your shoulders. He places his lips behind your ear, and whispers, “Your verdict, [ Your Name ]?”

                                         You turn your head to his direction, eyebrow lifted. “Archon, Ayato, you appear to be more eager than Thoma about this. A sneer appears on your visage. “Perhaps you should beg us to let you watch.”

                                 “Shit, oh God,” Thoma rears his head back forward and his hands perches on your waist. He rest his head on your chest, breathing growing heavy and ragged. “Please,” He murmurs against the valley of your breasts. “I want to see him off his throne for once.”

                           “You have so many fantasies, Thoma. Tonight is just full of secrets and revelations.” Ayato pulls away from your ear, laughing. He lifts one hand from your shoulder and runs his fingers through Thoma’s hair, humming. “This is the first time I’m seeing you assert yourself. I’m rather inclined to your submissiveness.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head. Heat and scarlet floods your visage. “I wouldn’t mind seeing more of this.”

         Your lips stretches to a smile. “Don’t stall, Ayato.” You release Thoma’s cock – he mewls in disappointment – and reach behind you. Your hand courses behind Ayato’s neck and you tug him close to you until his warm breath brushes behind your neck. “Are you going to start begging or what?”

                                         Ayato moans at your touch. “I take it that this is your odd way of saying yes?” He takes his pulls his hand away from the blond locks he had been carding through and gently clasps your waist by placing both his large hands over Thoma’s. “Then how about we make things a little interesting?”

                                                             Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel Ayato griding himself against you, his bulge rubbing on your lower back. “An equivalent exchange, you could call it.” He starts. “I’ll make his fantasy come true, and in exchange, you make mine.”

                                                                        You can feel Thoma shake, and his fingers creating crescent shapes against your flesh as you gradually accelerate your strokes. Your hand is completely drenched in his precum, creating a perfect lube for Thoma to fuck himself into. You catch a glimpse of Ayato’s hands over Thoma’s, and he too, is burrowing his nails deep against his skin.

                             “Always making sure the equal deal serves you more.” You scoff. “What is it?”

                Ayato did not miss a beat. “Let me fuck you after.”

                     It would be a lie if you ever said you haven’t thought of Ayato screwing you. Even when Thoma is the man that presently owns your heart and affection, a small part of you longed for you’re the Head of the Kamisato Clan. Ayato is the very first person you’ve befriended; even if your friendship did not happen by chance and was encouraged by both your clans, you did not see him as any less of a genuine friend. He has become your protector aside from your own father and your retainer, a listening ear, and a shoulder to cry on.

                                                      It isn’t exactly surprising you’d grow feelings for him. And it shouldn’t be surprising, as well, that you’d imagine him fucking you.

                                          You knew he shared the same feeling towards you. Before Thoma, he was the one who risk his title and reputation simply to tease you. You cannot recount every single moment he had slipped his hand inside your panties and teased your womanhood by inserting a finger or two inside your hole or rubbing circles on your clit, or the times he pulled you into an empty room, running his hands all over your figure only to leave you panting as he returns to his take care of his duties as a commissioner and as a Head.

                   However, there was never a chance for the both of you to commit to one another. So, hearing him say those words, it lights a small flame within you, one that you thought had extinguished.

                                            You clear your throat – an attempt to conceal your nervousness. “Is that all?”

                                                              Ayato blinks, flabbergasted by your reaction – or lack thereof – before his smile broadens. He coos at you. “I expected another reaction than that. I wanted to see you squirm. Shame.” He lets out a sigh. “Has the little shy girl finally grown up?”

                                                                              “Why don’t you be the judge of that?” You mutter, and once again, you look over your shoulder to appraise Ayato. You offer him a smirk. “You like observing, don’t you?”

                                  Before Ayato can give his reply, Thoma beats him to it. The blond male, with quivering movements, captures your hand that had been jacking him off. Your turn your head back to him, and you inhale quietly as you come face to face with Thoma’s glowering eyes.

               “Don’t I have a say in this? Feels like you’re intentionally excluding me in this arrangement.” Thoma pulls your hand to his direction with a single, firm tug. A small cry of surprise stumbles out of your lips as your smaller body reels towards him and you land on his chest. His arms envelop your form, and he firmly holds your dear to his chest. His large and hard shaft presses against your abdomen, but heeds not attention to this.

                                            “What else do you have to say? We’ve already established your fantasy. Is that not enough?” Ayato muses.

            “I won’t do anything Lady [ Your Name ] do not want to do.” Declares he.

                                                    “This again.” Ayato exhales through his nostrils. “Didn’t you hear her earlier?” Your eyes widen as you feel Ayato hover over your body, his arms appearing on either side of you. Your eyes trail up and reticently, you observe the heated exchange between the Kamisato Head and its most favored servant.

                           Ayato stares at Thoma with a leering sneer and smiling eyes, taunting him, while the latter fights his gaze filled with vigilance and remonstrance. “Maybe you’re against the proposition.” Questions Ayato. “Well, are you?”

                                   “It doesn’t matter what I think.” Snaps Thoma. “What matters is her answer.”

                                                                            You can detect the growing tension between the two men. This is not like them at all. They always have a dynamic relationship between the two of them, and even any kind of situations, they manage to communicate without the use of words. But right now, that is not the case. They’re in a quiet row with one another, a conflict-of-interest present in their eyes.

                                                                “Thoma,” You take his face once again in your grasp. Said man looks down back at you, brows knitted together. “I’ve given my answer already.” With a gentleness that mere words cannot begin to describe, you lean in and press your lips on Thoma’s. When you pull away, he chases after your lips. “It’s okay.”

          Thoma did not give an answer to you. His vision darts in every direction except yours. Even your words did not do anything to vanquish the inner turmoil bubbling inside of him. “A-Are you sure?” He stutters out. “Don’t force yourself if you’re not okay with this. I’m not important as you think – ”

                      Your ears preen at what he had said. Surely, he doesn’t believe such thing.

                                              Your fingers almost grates against his cheek. “Thoma, you’re important to me. And I’m telling you it’s okay.” You take in a deep breathe, soothing yourself as the urge to console him and shower him with praises and worship prevails. You lift yourself up and roll your hips back, you slit rubbing against his prick. His lips part and a shaky breath leaves his lips. “Let this happen.”

                                                                                  Thoma could not give you a proposer response. Not a whisper or even a shake of a head. He merely tips forward and connects his lips with yours.

                             You did not waste time reciprocating his affection. You loop your arms around Thoma’s beck, pull yourself flushed against his chest, and eagerly rocked yourself against his cock. You withdraw from your kiss, huffing as you lock eyes with Thoma. “Don’t make me wait. I want to cum, too.” You whine. Your pussy quivers as your clit feels his tip brushing earnestly against you. “Don’t be selfish. Just fuck me already – ”

                                                                    “Let me take care of things for both of you.”

                   A pair of hands from behind grip falls on your waist once more and lifts you up. Before you can say anything to your old friend, he raises your form high until you can feel your opening being breached open by Thoma’s cockhead. His hands leave their purchase over your body, and you find yourself falling a short distance. You throw your head back and your eyes bulge, tresses flitting in the same motion, as your pussy hole is filled once more by Thoma’s large and throbbing member.

                                 “Gah – ”

                                                            It felt too sudden having Thoma inside of you once more, and your body freezes, desperately trying to overcome the shock and pleasure that came with Ayato’s course. However, unlike before, Thoma did not bother teasing you. His hands didn’t run all over your body and groped your sensitive areas. Instead, his nails dig into your flesh and with an intake of air, he pounds into your cunny.

                                          A curse filters through Thoma’s seethed mouth as he rails your tight pussy. “F-F-u-uck – ” Thoma stares at you in an immodest lens, grunting each time his cockhead slots firmly against your cervix. “ – d-didn’t I just cum inside you minutes ago? How are you still – ” A strained gasp – “ – so tight?”

                       An extended, vociferous series of whimpers and mewls coming from your gaping mouth intertwine with Thoma’s thrusts and moans. “S-Slow down – ” You can hardly even understand yourself as your words string to the air. They drown in your noises and sound of skin slapping against skin costively pervading in the Kamisato Estate.

          At this point, what is transpiring inside cannot be hidden anymore. The two guards outside the main entrance already know what is happening between you and Thoma – what a scandal it would be if they learned Ayato had appeared in the picture.

                             “Thoma, easy,” Chides Ayato. He brushes away the hair resting on your neck and closes the distance between him and you, his lips purchasing on a soft patch of your skin. “She’s not going anywhere. You can take your time fucking her.”

                                                    A particularly piercing cry of pleasure spills into the room and bounds against the walls. Hearing yourself cry out in a confounding entanglement of hushed breathes and grunts had evoked you an unfortunate sense of realization. The noises of flesh, labored breathing and wet squelches enters your ears, and it occupied your hearing.

                       So . . . loud . . .

                            You feel a tiny spurt of cum staining your cervix, causing a whine to roll out of your tongue. Thoma gasps and he freezes, tremors running down his spine. He leans his forehead on your own, his eyes closed, lips agape, and shoulders rising and dropping.

                                  “Ayato, please, fucking hell,” He removes his forehead from your own and places his chin over your shoulder. You can only assume he is sniping a glare towards the Yashiro Commissioner. “Shut u – don’t say things like that, please.”

              Laughter emerges from Ayato’s mouth. “I was only trying to help.” He looks up for a moment, before restraining a wide smile from spreading across his mien. “Okay, maybe I’m doing it for my own sake too.” His canine grazes over your back, and your quakes as the stimulation process. “Hearing [ Your Name ] make all those noises . . . my patience is being tested. I don’t think I’ll be able to settle on simply watching on the sidelines for too long.”

                                                    A pause prevails, and the grasp of silence envelops your forms.

              Ayato reels away from you, leaving you terribly aware of the marks he had made on your back before – from your peripheral vision – witness his hand descend over Thoma’s head, fingers grappling on his long golden locks, before lifting his head from your shoulder.

                                                                      “So, better hurry up.”

                                     You cannot pinpoint the exact source of Thoma’s capriciousness. Had it been from his sense of duty to his young lord to accomplish whatever his young lord commands or from his clawing envy of the same man and desire to prove himself a more suitable partner for you? No matter the reason, you do not mind.

                                                                  Something within Thoma snapped upon hearing Ayato’s statement. The faint illumination of kindness in his orbs dulls, leaving a dark shade over them. He says nothing to you or Ayato, no quip, not protest – a mere sphere of silence is where you found the three of you.

            Just when you thought Ayato had crossed the line and rendered Thoma of an appeal to please, your eyes cross and your tongue lolls out from the corner of your mouth as Thoma begins pounding in your soaping hole with vigor you had never felt before the entire span of time you had been fooling around with him. He forces your body to bounce on his cock by lifting and dropping you by your waist. Strings of moans and babbles of disorganized thoughts and words spews out of your mouth.

                                           Your hands perch from one leverage to another, too consumed by Thoma’s unrelenting fucking to think clearly. All that you are aware of is how he’s somehow creating new, sensitive spots in your pussy and stuffing the entrance to your cervix of his slickness.

    “Well, which one is it? Take my time with her or not?” Thoma huffs out, grassy green eyes slitted to Ayato’s direction. “You don’t have to answer. I don’t need to hear another remark coming from you.” He sneers. “You stay there and watch, as we’ve agreed. I’ll fuck her through every orgasm if I have to, so long as it keeps her away from you.”

                                                          “T-Thoma – ” You stammer his name. “ – I-I can’t – too much – ”

             He doesn’t seem to hear your pleas, or he has simply chosen to feign deafness and continue speaking with Ayato.

                     “She’ll be thinking of my cock when you’re fucking her.” Grunts out Thoma, his glare deepening, worsening. “I will make sure she’ll moan my name.”

                                    Ayato cocks his head to the side. “So self-assured. It does make me want to believe you.” A drawl thrums against Ayato’s throat. “But we’ll cross the bridge when we get there. We’ll see whose name will reign over her.” He chortles. But don’t count on your chances. I mean, how can a Mondstadt bred garbage like you can ever compare to an Inazuman noble?”

                                                      Disbelief and unfiltered rage carve over your features as you processed what Ayato had just said. Despite how overcome you are with pleasure and your own deprave and lecherous thoughts, you somehow still have a grasp around reality, vested with the ability to distinguish what was right or what was wrong. Ayato had said and done questionable things before for the sake of the Clan and his Commission, but this had been a stab at the heart without any intention other than to wound.

                                                Ayato, you fucking bastard!

                          Filled with concern, you try desperately to meet Thoma’s eyes, but you let out a soft noise of surprise when Thoma looks over your shoulder, not a trace of offense or hurt palpable on his face.

                 “Is this your way of trying to provoke me?” A short and condescending laugh dribbles out of his brims. “You need to try a lot harder than that, orphan.”

                                                                    Thoma lifts your body off of him, and you whimper in objection, your toes and fingers curling. You mewl out his name, desperation and unhappiness clouding your frame.

                  “Calm down, slut.” Your mouth closes at his words. “You’re not going anywhere.”

                                        You don’t know what happened. It’s like Thoma had adopted a completely new persona. But you didn’t mind.

                       With a huff, he spins you around and when you do, you come face to face with Ayato. Your head retreats back towards Thoma’s chest as Ayato crawls over to you, coming closer and closer until he is hovering over you.

    A hand of his grips his white colored robe and the other cups your face. “You’re adorable like this.” He closes the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against your own. Engulfed with overlapping emotions and thoughts, you are quick to return his affections.

                            A click of a tongue – “Oi,” Warns Thoma.

                                                  The saliva that had collated inside your mouth oozes out the corner of your lips and your eyes roll to the back of your skull as Thoma tightens his grip around your waist and pounds in your fluttering cunt. Ayato withdraws, mild shock crossing his features.

                    He watches as your eyelids fall over your irises, and your mouth opens and close, waiting for him to steal your breath with one swift thrust after another – but nothing came but a single yet powerful slam of his hips.

             You cry out, eyes flying open as your entire body breaks posture and trembles. Your arms flies forward towards Ayato and wraps around his neck. Thoma hauls you back to him, growling.

                               “Don’t touch or kiss other men when I’m fucking you. That’s disrespectful.” He drives his cock in and out of your pussy with hard and slow strokes. You can feel every ridge rubbing against your walls, causing you to shiver. “Understand?”

                                                                 “She’s not your property, Thoma. If she wants to kiss me or touch me, she can.” The hand gripping his coat expertly removes one sleeve from his arm before he does the same to the other side. When his robe is completely discarded on the ground, Ayato continues casting off his other garments. You don’t know where to fixate yourself with – Thoma’s hard pounding or Ayato’s chiseled chest that is slowly revealing the more Ayato takes off his ensemble.

                                                              You swallow as Ayato drops the very last article of clothing on him, leaving him with nothing but his whole glory. Your eyes trail down from his face to his exposed chest, and to his large cock. Its bulbous head leaks with thick pearls of precum, and you cannot help yourself but lick your lips at the sight. This has been the first time you’ve seen Ayato completely in the nude.

                                  It as you had long imagined as you touched yourself to the thought of him. Years of training and perfecting his swordsmanship had done him well. As expected from someone who had to carry the burdens of his family and clan at such a young age. A well sculpted body of a master samurai and the Head of his clan, you could only imagine how trifled his men are when they are defeated by the hands of their superior regardless of the disparity of their forms. Agile yet strong, very much like how Ayato is.

                      You can feel his scorching stare burn holes in your head. “This is the first time I’ve seen you naked and well-presented before me.” He rolls his head, eyes closed before opening them once more. He catches your eye successfully. “It’s only fair that I follow your example.”

                                           Ayato places his hands on your inner thighs and slowly, he pushes your legs higher and higher until you can feel your pussy lips spreading wider and wider. Heat flourishes to your face when Ayato lets out a hum as he observes Thoma’s cock plunging hard and slow inside your tight cunny.

                                                                          “Goodness, you’re so beautiful.” Ayato mutters to himself. “I still can’t believe Thoma beat me to you.” Ayato lets go of one of your thighs and brings his hand to your nether region. Your lips purse and your hips roll forward as you feel his finger brushing around your folds, careful not to touch Thoma’s twitching cock. “But it doesn’t matter for now. Once he cum, you’re mine.”

                 You dart your eyes down and keenly follow Ayato’s movements. His fingertips circles gently around you’re your pussy lips, teasing your sensitive parts, unperturbed by Thoma’s fucking, grunts, and strained whispers of your name.

                                      “Don’t go claiming someone’s woman, Ayato. You had your chance.” Thoma huffs out. You gasp as Thoma rests his chin on your shoulder and his arms wind to your front, his large, calloused hands cupping your tits. His pelvis picks up speed, hammering inside your womanhood as he mauls your globes. “She’s mine.”

        “Oh, I didn’t know the two of you have made it official.” The silence between you and Thoma answers Ayato’s question, and he sneers triumphantly. “Did I hit a nerve? Don’t worry, you two still have your chance. But that includes me. Do not fret, though, Thoma.” Your breathing pauses for a brief second as Ayato holds up your legs once more, giving him – once more – a great view of your stuffed cunt. “Once I wed with [ Your Name ], I’ll still give you the permission to fuck her. I’m not too selfish.”

                                              Your ears prickle in attention when you hear Thoma inhale through his mouth instead of serving a snark remark towards Ayato. Your irises, glassy with tears, dilate as you realize a wee bit late that Ayato had removed his hand from your slit and is now brushing along Thoma’s balls.

              Thoma flutters his eyes close and tightly keeps them so at the foreign feeling. His stature falters, and his cock spasms uncontrollably inside of you. His hips drive in you in sporadic pattern, gradually decelerating before finally, his thrusts stop. You whine, hands flying all over for a moment before finding them buried in Thoma’s hair.

                                      Ayato laughs softly. “What’s wrong, Thoma? Tired?”

                                                                              Thoma drops his forehead on your shoulder, a shaky breath leaving his panting lips. “I’m not . . . tired yet – you wish, but – ah – ” A sensation of a shiver running down Thoma’s back ripples in your own, as well. You lower your vision again and you see Ayato begins to fondle his balls. “ – stop touching me.”

                                                   “Stop touching you? Do you really want that?” Ayato lock gazes with you, mischief dancing across his visage. “What do you think, [ Your Name ]? Does he really want me to stop?”

            Out of frustration and your own desperate longing for Thoma to resume railing your pulsating pussy, you almost did not hear Ayato’s question, but you did, and you hoped you did not. You fought tooth and nail erasing the questions he had raised, but you can’t.

                           You have the answer inside of you – it’s throbbing and swelling big inside your pussy, its tip kissing your cervix, veins running along your walls, and creating a large bulge in your belly.

                                                                      Although provided with no visual or verbal evidence, you understand that embarrassment had its grip around Thoma. You can feel the agonizing burrow of his fingernails deep against your flesh, and he has yet to contribute anything to the exchange. Only silence prevails in his side.

                                                        “Well, [ Your Name ],” Your train of thoughts are derailed once Ayato speaks again. “Should I stop or continue? You’re the one feeling all of him.”

                                     You can hear Thoma slowly release a puff of warm breath behind you. Your finger intertwines tighter in his tresses.

        Rather than supplying Ayato with a response – one that would certainly please him – you only wail pathetically in protest and tighten your pussy around his cock. Your hips ride his hard length up and down in a soft pattern, urging him to continue railing you.

                                 “Now’s not the time, princess,” Thoma swallows audibly, but despite his own words, his length start moving inside your cunt.

                                                Ayato laughs quietly under his breath. “No, I think this is the perfect time.”

                      Ayato retracts from the both of you, and your legs lower back down to the ground. You feel Thoma breathe out in relief as the stimulation on his balls disappears. But the throbbing of his girth did not waver, it simply kept twitching inside your pussy.

                                                                      Ayato takes his hard cock in his hand and begins stroking himself. You can feel Ayato’s gaze fixed on your naked form, but you could only stare at his cock in a hazy dust of a stupor. His shaft is nearly as big as Thoma’s, but he makes up for it with his thickness.

                                “Go on, Thoma. Screw her tight cunt.” A jeer. “I want to see what kind of faces she can make.”

                                                                              Without questioning him, Thoma proceeds to pick up his space. Thoma’s hands leaves your hips and snakes it to the front of your torso. His palms cup your breasts from under. Your entire body springs over his length as slowly, his thrusts grow harsher. Your tits bounce on his palms. Your legs flail all over the pavement, kicking furniture and the bed at times.

                                                  “Thoma – too hard – ”

      He didn’t seem to hear you, or he had chosen to ignore you, favoring the head between his thighs. His pelvis slams against your ass, his length plunging quick in and out of your fluttering hole. “You can take it.” Whispers Thoma. “It’s just like any other time you’re taking me.”

                  “Only difference is,” You look back up at Ayato, and you let out a soft gasp when you find that he had inched closer to you once more. “This time, I’m witnessing all your sins.”

                                    Ayato grabs hold of Thoma’s hands. You shiver when his finger crosses delicately over your perk nipples. He takes them away from your chest – you whine and writhe as a sign of objection to both of men, and it took one slap on ass from the Commissioner himself to get you to settle down – and guides them to your arms.

                 Thoma did not need to be told of instructions. His arms loops to the front of your arms, locking them in place. His legs snakes around yours, spreading them wide and locking them in place for Ayato to see everything, from your chest to your stuffed puffy cunt.

                                              Your mind chants like a mantra – Don’t look, don’t look – and yet your body craves for their gaze.

                                                                  “It wasn’t hard for me to learn what’s been happening between the two of you. You always somehow escape important meetings and dinners. It’s not so different from how [ Your Name ] and I do so before.” Begins Ayato. How he jacks himself off is slow and passionate – however, it troubles you how you’re affected by his pace regardless of his ministration being disinclined from your own composition. Your hips squirm against Thoma while you ogle foolishly at his long, hard shaft. “To be frank, I’m quite jealous of how easily you got [ Your Name ] hooked around your finger. I’ve tried for years, but she never really took the bait.”

                           You shake your head at him. You want to tell him you’ve understood his intentions, but he never dared say anything. But your panting got in the way, trembling lips unable to get the words out of your mouth.

            “I don’t think any of you understand my frustration. All day long, I work and work, surrounded by problem after problem, while in the back of my head, I knew the two of you are screwing around Archon knows where. Do you have any idea how many times I had to find somewhere private and jack off to the thought of you – ” He opens his eyes and gazes at you, hues darkened. “ – wishing that I was the one with you, pleasuring you.”

                                                Your fingers curl and twitch as you smother back a moan, to which Thoma forced out of you by thrusting hard into you. “Ah – ” Your hips buck back against Thoma’s length, causing a moan to break out of his brims.

                             “You got so tight. You’re doing something right, Ayato.” Growls Thoma. Your arms strain against Thoma’s own, and he hardens his forearms. “Good girl, princess. Do that more often and I might just cum inside you again.”

                                                                                      “Leave some room for me, Thoma.” Mumbles Ayato. His thumb crosses over his cockhead, smearing it with his precum. “I want some place to stain her with my cum too.”

                You can hear them exchange remarks, but you cannot comprehend any of them, all too consumed with the frustration eating you up from within. Your hair billows from side to side as you shake your head. “Stop talking and fuck me already!” A sobs wracks throughout your body as Thoma pushed your hips firmly against him, digging his cock deeper inside your wet cunny. The noises coming from your puffy womanhood pierces through your ears, reminding you of the reality that two men who many women desired are watching you, needing to get inside of you.

                                  Ayato clicks his tongue several times. “Is she always this needy?”

                                            Thoma lets out a shuddering moan. “She’s usually very obedient.”

          “How peculiar. Usually, when I’m in the room, people become more obedient.” Ayato, using the forefinger of his other hand, he flicks your chin up once. You try to lean back as he nears his face with yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Perhaps this is another reason to be enamored with you, [ Your Name ].”

                                            “I said don’t touch her.” Thoma warns venomously.

                                    Ayato chuckles. “You think you have power over me just because you have [ Your Name ]?” His free hand grabs hold of your jaw, locking it in place and forcing you to stare into his impish gaze. He speeds up his strokes, small ropes of semen spurting out of his shaft. “I get everything I want, no matter who or what stands my way.”

                  You can sense the frustration emanating from Thoma. He inhales deeply from his mouth before taking his cock out of you. You can hear him murmuring something underneath his breath, but you couldn’t make out anything other than an angered spit of his young lord’s name. You bite your lower lip as he continues pulling out of you. His length eases out of you, dragging along your soft walls.

                         “Hgn . . . ” You mumble, throat thrumming. “ . . . don’t pull out, don’t . . . ”

          Ayato looks away from you and cast his gaze over your shoulder. “You heard our slut, Thoma.”

                                 Your legs flail all over the floor as the knot within you twist and turn, trying to ease the tension you’re feeling. When only the tip of Thoma’s cock is inside you, threatening to pop out and slap against your clit, Thoma huffs – “As you wish, princess,” – and he drives his hard girth inside your once more as he slams your hips down on his pelvis.

                              You can almost feel an odd and bizarre sensation close to people commonly refer as a heart skipping a beat. You didn’t think much of it before, setting it aside as something writers or poets utilize in their works to bestow a sense of melodrama. Feeling something similar to it was quite unlike any other – it felt exhilarating.

                  Unlike before, when Thoma is keen on pleasuring you instead of himself, he shoves his cock his cock inside your tight, little pussy with only the thought of getting himself off clouding his mind. His actions hold no vestige of gentleness or concern for you.

                                    To him, at the moment of his lapse, sees you as nothing more than a hole for him to use, to get lost in.

                                                  Your head leans back and your jaw drops, but not even a moan births from your mouth. Your sanity is being tested; this you are certain of. Thoma has no inkling of this, but Ayato with that damned jubilant smile of his know all too well that you share the same prospect. Your tits bounce on your chest, and your fingers twitch from time to time as you clamp down on Thoma’s girth.

                    “Slow down! Slow down!” You repeat in a form of a clamor as tears crown the corners of your eyes. “You’re too fast – ”

                              “You can still talk?” Ayato’s grip on your jaw tightens. You almost whimper in pain at how his nails burrowed against your flesh. “Faster, Thoma.”

                                               With your back facing Thoma, you have no way of perceiving what mask of expression adorns his visage but when you hear him muttering behind your ear a series of reiterated apologies, you can only assume from there that guilt and shame etches across his features. But with how inadvertently strains your arms and shoves his cock up your pussy hole in a snapping pace, regret is not one of them.

                                                            With wanton abandon, hammers his length in and out of you without regards for you. His hot breath fans over the nape of your neck. “The sounds you make – so beautiful – ” He whispers, grunting right after. A deafening sound of spurting between your thighs reach your ears. You clench around Thoma, enhancing the debauching noise of your filled up cunt. “ – I want to hear more.”

                            Thoma slides his arms away from restraining you and slithers down on your sides. A hand of his smacks against the side of your ass, drawing out a pitiful mewl from you. You let out a holler of bewilderment as Ayato’s large hand wraps around your wrists and holds them above your head, circumscribing your chances of physical liberty. Thoma’s palms anchor on your waist and his digits strokes a patch of your skin, soothing you from his salacious ministrations.

      “More, more,” You cry out, sobbing. “Thoma, more, more, please – ”

                  Ayato lets out a short laugh. “Don’t hold back, Thoma. Give her what she’s asking for.” Declares the Commissioner. “Or if you can’t, I can always take the work off your shoulder.” He lets go of his cock and get on both knees. He crawls closer and closer to you until you can feel his hard-on grazing against the top of your slit, tainting it with his precum.

                                                              “S-Shut up, shut up, shut up – ” Thoma’s foot skids against the floorboards as his pelvis snaps in and back, smacking himself against your ass. “ – I said shut the fuck up!”

                                     Your eyes dilate as you watch Ayato put one hand on your thigh, and the other grabbing his cock. “W-What are you doing – Ayato, what the hell – ”

               “Hush, [ Your Name ],” Ayato presses the tip of his cock against your puckered rear. “You know this is better.”

                                                        Thoma lets out a shuttering breath. “What are you doing, my lor – ” He catches himself before he can continue. “ – Ayato?”

          Ayato appraises you through lidded eyes. “I’m at my limit, Thoma. I cannot hold myself back any longer. I have to be inside her.”

                      Your heart pounds erratically against your chest at what you had heard. For the first time after countless of wordless courting and meaningful glances, you’ll become one with Ayato. The thought is so encompassing, nearly surreal – you thought your fantasy will remain as it is, a fantasy – that it escaped your mind how his cockhead pokes in and out of your cum smeared ass.

                  “You’ve always tempted me, [ Your Name ]. Always so kind and sweet to everyone, even to those people we warned you about. So, so gullible. No wonder I’m always so protective of you since we were kids.” Ayato brushes his lips on the corner of your lip. “I almost had you. I was so close to making you mine. Maybe I should’ve been quicker, been more like the Commissioner I am outside. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been stolen from me.”

                                        Your heart races in your chest. You whisper, “Ayato . . . ”

                                                      “But I have the chance to finally be with you. Even just this once, I’ll know what it feels to be inside you.” He sighs. “But who knows? This is a game of chance. Who’s to say I can’t change your mind?”

              “You’re not – ”  Thoma, obvious to your exchange, pants. “ – you’re not going to force your cock in her pussy, too, right?”

      “Don’t be absurd, Thoma. I’m not that mean.” You suck in air as you feel his bulbous cockhead breaching in your ass. “I’ll just take the only hole available to me right now.”

                                                             He connects his lips with yours, and as he does so, he slips his girth inside your asshole. The sudden stretch causes you to retract from Ayato and tear a scream through your lungs and throat, thick tears streaming down the sides of your face.

                 “Hush, hush, my love,” Ayato coos once he pulls away from you. “Remember. Manners.”

                                            His words fall on deaf ears. The sensation of being ripped open from your other hole is painful. This feeling is not foreign to you as Thoma had sought permission from time to time to enter you from behind, but Ayato is larger than you thought. He reached a part inside your ass that even Thoma cannot reach before. Your walls clench tightly around his length, and no matter how hard you try to pull away, Thoma’s grip and your own refusing body keeps you in place.

                                                             Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can hear your own heartbeat thrumming inside your eardrums and thrusting against your chest, trying to escape your ribcage. You feel so full, both your holes are stuffed with long and large cocks. Your tongue is tied, and your eyes could not focus on anything except the hazy clouds of lust covering your vision.

        Thoma’s hand slips away from your waist and rests on your ass. He raises it up in the air for the slightest second and returns it back to your flesh quickly, creating a resounding sound of a slap. “She got so tight.” Moans Thoma. “Can you feel it, Ayato?”

                              Ayato nods. “Yes, yes,” He gulps. “Archon, is this what you feel every time you fuck her?” He moans, eyes fluttering to a close for a brief moment before opening them once again. “I should’ve taken you when I had the chance.”

                                                              Ayato releases your wrists. When you feel the tightness around your wrists vanquish, your arms circle around his neck and pull him close to you. Ayato warmly welcomes your advances. He puts his hands under your thighs and steers them around his waist. Instinctively, you pull him close to your body.

                                                            You feel Ayato’s balls hit your ass as he edges deeper and deeper inside of you. Your meretricious pair of eyes threaten to roll back to your head, and all you can do is rake your nails against Ayato’s back.

                                       “Come on, princess,” He groans out in a pant. “Open your mouth for me.”

                          Removing a hand from its gentle perch under your thigh, he grips your chin and rests his thumb over your lip. His thumb penetrates pass your lips and hooks your lower lip and slowly, he pries open your mouth and invades your wet cavern with his tongue. You did not even attempt to fight for dominance, and you merely submit to his authority, letting his pink muscle explore every inch of your mouth to his leisure.

             You mewl against Ayato’s tongue. More, I want more.

                                   A small pang of shame tweaks at your heart as realization curtains over you. Your heart belongs to Thoma, and in this moment, he’s fucking your cunt, cockhead slamming against your cervix. And yet here you were, surrendered and thoughts consumed of your older friend as he ravages your mouth and sticks his cock in and out of your rear end.

        You gasp out as Ayato abruptly ends your kiss, withdrawing away and licking the residual of your fusion. He exhales sharply through his nose, a smile tugging up on his lips. “Don’t look at me that way, Thoma.”

                                     With both your asshole and your pussy completely brimmed with cocks, you cannot find any other way to appraise Thoma from your position. Your mind, however, graces you with a vague construction of Thoma’s expression – abhorrence? Embarrassment? Apprehension?

            “She’s mine.” Thoma slides his hands down the front of your pelvis, fingers dancing over your flesh before brushing along your clit. His forefingers press against either side of your pussy lips and pulls them back, creating a more welcoming opening for his cock to plunge into.

                        Ayato beams a smile full of mischief. “Says who?” He gyrates his pelvis, burying his cock further inside your rectum. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you couldn’t help but clasp around both the lengths inside your holes. “She’s clenching on my cock.”

                                       Thoma growls, nails scratching against your skin. “She’s clenching on mine too.”

      Just as Thoma released he own remark, a loud squelch breaks through the interlocked noises of skin against skin. You can feel Thoma’s girth swelling inside of you, the tip of his member now constantly knocking against your cervix.

                               “I’m close . . . ” You hear Thoma murmur. His thrusts begun to waver once again. The sounds of smacking deteriorates as his composure falls apart. His climax climbs further and further up inside him, your combined wetness and his own essence sloshing inside your pussy.

                                                              It seemed that knowing Thoma was going to cum, your walls begun fluttering more often around his and Ayato’s cock.

                “M-Me too,” You let out a shaky release of air. “Thoma, Ayato, faster!”

                     Ayato intercepts into your private exchange. “Oh? Already? I’ve just started.” He picks up his pace in response. Drool oozes from both corners of your lips and your eyes finally roll to the back of your head.

                                                  Thoma places his forehead against your shoulder. “Can I cum inside again?”

                              You nod, labored breathing piercing his hearing. “Fuck, please, Thoma!”

              That was seemingly the last straw for Thoma. With a grunt, he drives his hips against your ass one last time before the first rope of his hot, thick semen comes gushing out. Your body is bewitched with constraints to bind your entire physique to a state of shock, quivering from time to time as Thoma spills himself inside your pussy. You can imagine whiteness painting your walls, leaving not a single spot unclaimed by your beloved.

                                                    You fear blood will come dribbling out of the crescent moons Thoma’s fingernails had carved against your skin. Smothered moans and grunts tumble out of Thoma’s trembling brims, and his head presses firmly against your shoulder more so.

                                    “A-Ahh, [ Your Name ],” You suppress a shudder that simmers in your system as you feel Thoma trailing kisses on your shoulder blade, slowly coming up to the part where your shoulder meets your neck. His teeth sink against your flesh, and you wail in a confusing mux of pain and pleasure. “Shit, you’re going to look so full.”

                           The bulge in your abdomen distended not only from Thoma’s cock, but also from the amount of seed he’s plowing inside your snatch. You can feel his spunk overflowing your insides, and slowly leaking from the spaces of your union. His cock rests against your cervix, as though he was attempting to give you a child.

                                                Ayato hovers his hand over his jeering lips as he surveys both of you, his cock stilling inside your ass for a brief second. “You two . . . are just that loud, aren’t you? You can never keep your mouth shut even if I ask you to.” His grip on your thigh worsens, nails dragging against your skin. “But I don’t really have the right to complain.” His begins moving inside you again. The tip of his manhood reaches deep in your rear hole, producing blobs of precum in your opening. “If this had been somewhere away from the people, this is how I would like it.”

                                                                                        Thoma’s cock slowly softens inside you, and your walls desperately clenches around the base, seemingly trying to arouse it and have Thoma make use of your body again. He exhales, panting.

                    “S-Shit, you didn’t cum yet . . . ” One of his hands leave your waist and collects your lock in one hand. He throws them over your shoulder, giving him more space to bite and lick your skin to his own desire. “I’m sorry, princess. But don’t you worry. You’ve been a good girl; my lord will reward you.”

                                                        Ayato breathes out. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.”

                                       You close your eyes tightly as a jolt surge through your body. More and more of Thoma’s seed squirts out of your cunny as Ayato shoves his member in and out of your ass. Your jaw tightens and your labored breathing increases in resonance.

                         “T-Thoma? Thoma! What are you – ”

    Thoma did not allow you to string out your statement to completion for he removes his cock out of your cunt, his softened shaft flopping against Ayato’s thigh. It twitches so often, the remnants of his climax trickling out of the small hole on the tip of his cock and the evidence of your nearing orgasm coating his entirety. You can hear him groaning, and you can only depict a likeness of him with his head thrown back and mouth open to catch his breath.

                                      You ignore the shiver that hits your gaping hole and let out a whimper in protest. “No, no, inside again, Thoma . . . ”

                                                                          Ayato wraps his arms around your torso and pulls you towards him. You fall away from Thoma. You let out a yell of surprise and you fall on Ayato’s chest.

             “Hush, [ Your Name ].” Coos Ayato as he holds your waist. “Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?”

 A needy moan escapes your mouth as he grabs your waist and slams you against his pelvis, meeting his thrust with your own. With your combined essence with Thoma leaking down your ass, Ayato has an easier time plunging his cock in your pussy. You put your hands over his shoulder and regardless of you’re the disposition you’re supposed to be showing as a noblewoman, you forget everything about that and begin moving your hips with Ayato’s, riding his length with eagerness of a woman desiring pleasure and an escape from the stifling position you always find yourself in.

                      “Thoma,” Despite the labored and even breathing exuding from his trembling brims, Ayato maintains composure – envisaging himself of an unyielding individual – and heaves out his command to his devoted retainer. His countenance bear patent vestige of weariness, miniscule droplets of perspiration adorning his fair skin and the cloud of warmth emitting pass his lips, but the blade of hilarity wounds his authenticity. “Come and sit next to me. Feast your eyes over your darling princess as she takes another man’s cock.”

             Your entirety quakes in appalment of what you had just heard, and your fingers that clung upon the Kamisato Head’s broad shoulders is swept in tension. In the back of your mind, creeping in the crevices of your obscure, arcane rapture of physical indulgence, this affair had already been divulged and you possess no right to oppose now when the wound has already been dealt and sealed, but this was simply led in the notion Thoma is situated behind you, your back flushed against his chiseled chest and prick inserted in your soaking cunt, divested from a means eyeing your morphing mien.

                                                It had always been you and him, and it had never crossed your experiences and perception that another party could be involved, especially one of higher status and with an interweaving connection to the two of you. Thoma may have witnessed your fucked out expressions in the myriad of occasions you both are warped in the arms of passion, but this is a turning point in your unsanctioned relation with one another – presenting oneself to him as his superior and dear friend pounds your rear hole.

               The longingness to conceal yourself from the two men comes crashing down, and yet your hands remain rooted on Ayato’s shoulders, uncooperative with the objective of your mind. Must you take your trembling palms and shelter your face from their slitted sights, as to steal their chance to merrily revel on the immoral changes of your features as Ayato has his way with you? Perhaps your breasts should be your breasts that you must cover? Maybe your gaping pussy should be your main concern as it spewed Thoma’s essence out every time Ayato thrusts? But alas, your train of thoughts favors obscuring the sight of your asshole being stuffed and fucked.

                              Your face turns downcast as Thoma rises from his previous position, passes by your intertwined body with Ayato’s, and settles himself next to the Commissioners, legs tucked underneath him and hands resting on his lap. You cannot bear even the thought of instigating an eye contact with your lover, but the scorching gaze that punctures unto your figure beckons you against your wall. He presents himself in the way Ayato did, littered in sweat and projected a mask of exhaustion, however, he scrutinizes you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

        You can feel a shudder slithering down your back and rises back up in a form of ripples. His leafy hues stares heatedly in your own dilated and glassy ones, before gradually trailing down your lower region, a sheen of amusement and shamelessness coating his irises as he ogles at your used asshole, the surrounding area around the hole smeared in your mixed juices.

                                                            Thoma grips his chin and a hum strum against his throat, one that garnered Ayato’s attention. The latter takes a second to pause and raise an eyebrow at his companion. “Something you’d like to say?” Queries Ayato, bemused and rather a wee bit curious.

                                                Thoma’s jaw drops and a yawn breeze past his lips. A mask of utter stupefaction and perplexity contorts Ayato’s formerly vain and priggish expression, and you mirror such overlapping emotions. This is quite an inconceivable action for Thoma to enact, and with no trace of reluctance dusting across his appearance. Even when Thoma identifies Ayato’s flaws and shortcomings, he was kind and lenient, walking around shards of glass as to not speak ill of his superior. Thus, seeing him mock Ayato without the worry of repercussions and balance of authority, it has you – and undoubtedly Ayato, as well – rooted to the ground, astounded and wondering if the blond housekeeper was truly him.

                                 “My lord, you’re all talk, aren’t you?”

                                                                    A frown falls over Ayato’s features. “Pardon?”

          “You say a lot of things about making [ Your Name ] yours. But you’re treating her like glass.” Thoma crosses his arms are he begins. A chuckle stringing out of his mouth. “She’s not fragile my world. Why don’t you stop talking and – ” Thoma’s jeering smirk widens. It almost looks like he’s sardonic and derisive. “ – put your money where your mouth is.”

                                    But he isn’t –

             A flash of greediness and displeasure passes through Ayato’s countenance. “Put my money where my mouth is? If you say so.” He drawls. “You don’t mind if I break her a little, do you?”

                                                                              Your mouth opens to declare your disapproval, but you are unable to when Thoma cocks his head to the side, brows raising towards Ayato in a wordless taunt.

      A smirk tug at Thoma’s lips. “Be my guest.”

                                      You cannot bring yourself to believe that this man settled beside Ayato is your dearest partner. Hard he may try to conceal his jealousy, he cannot. In some way or form, you’ll know when he is uncomfortable with another man so close to you. But here they were, both men that your heart yearns and yearned for, and Thoma – what a puzzling man he is – presents no trace of envy or distrust towards the other who he was watching violating your other hole.

                                                        Ayato lets out a short, breathless laugh. “Whatever you say, Thoma. For once,” Your shoulders rise, and lungs expand as you suck in a deep breath. Ayato adjusts himself before you, a hand of his leaving and the other grasping your waist tauter. “I’ll be following your orders.”

                         Your eyes cross and a choked moan leaving your drooling mouth when out of the blue, taking you by surprise, you feel your folds being stretched wide open as slender digits slip inside your pussy hole. You feel a large blob of Thoma’s spunk dribbling down from your womanhood to your swollen asshole., serving as lube for Ayato as he dips his free hand between your bodies and smear Thoma’s semen around your puckered opening and your nether lips.

                                   You whimper as his forefinger prods against your entrance, stroking your slit in a delicate manner. “Stop . . . touching me . . . ” You groan. “ . . . m-move!” The clamor that laced in your last word causes Thoma and Ayato exchange knowing glances, before they share similar smirks that contained similar intent.

               Ayato clicks his tongue once. “You don’t have to demand, sweetheart. I know what I’m doing.” He laughs a short laugh. “But it is quite refreshing from the people who constantly get on their knees and beg for me. It’s honestly tiring after a while. But it doesn’t I’m opposed to seeing you on your knees, but maybe another time.” You bite your lower lip as Ayato slowly, slowly breaches your tight, cum filled pussy with his long, slim fingers. Your fingernails scrape against his shoulders, and if you are inciting pain unto to him, he withholds any spectacle of evidence. He brushes his lips against your ear, and whispers, “For now, just be a good little fuck hole for me. Let me do the rest.”

                                                              He strokes your soft walls with such care, making you close your eyes and mewl softly. Your toes twists and you can feel numbness over your eyelids with how tightly you’re closing your eyes. You clench around Ayato’s digits with a sharp an audible inhale, and your waning orgasms arouses once again, this time growing faster than before.

               “You’re so cute, [ Your Name ]. Seeing you like this makes me want to beat myself up for being so slow.” Mumbles Ayato.

                             As soon as he finishes speaking, Ayato rolls his hips against yours slowly before proceeding to pounding in your hole. His jaw tightens, and his arms strains in exertion as he fucks you. His fingering matches the pace of his thrusts, and this pushed you to a troubling position on which pleasure to be more addicted to.

        Both release carnal and fleshly noises and they pervade within the confines of your mind, knocking and echoing, chaining you to the endless loop of your own debauchery. The tip of his fingers reaches a rather sensitive spot, and you choked at the feeling. Your pussy spasms around his digits and your asshole clenches on his large, throbbing cock.

                               Poising yourself the best you could, you lurch forward gently and with the same manner of elegance, you press your lips against Ayato’s. There is no brief second of stupor of shock or puzzlement; Ayato earnestly returns your affections with a pleased hum, and with your actions, a wave of new determination and a stroked vanity engulfs your old friend, and his ministrations accelerates. A sharp pain pierces through your anus, and your eyebrows furrow together.

                       You withdraw from Ayato hastily, brusquely disconnecting your soft and damp lips from his own. The very moment you pulled away from him, you want nothing more than to reignite the passion between the two of you, to lose yourself in his addictive lips and compelling kiss. But you grit your teeth in tolerance to the pain in your prostate, hands that perched on his muscular chest curling until you can feel the sensation of your tapered fingernails threatening to tear through the soft flesh of your palms. You smack and smack your fists against his chest firmly, and he regards you with a look of confoundment. You sniffle, “H-Hurts!”

                                                                           Before Ayato can even process what you have shouted out, Thoma is quick to respond to your cry and captures your face with his large hand, his nude form angling towards you as his eyes, shimmering in concern, assesses your condition. “Princess, what’s wrong? What hurts?”

                                                        You force down the lump that unknowingly grew your throat. “Ayato is too – big – hgn – ”

                                   With a single swat of his wrist, Ayato distances Thoma’s hand away from you. “Still, Thoma. I thought you wanted me to break her.” The former embraces you closer to his chest with one arm, chin resting on the top of your head. You bury your face near his collarbone, lips parted as you try desperately to accommodate Ayato’s cock in your ass. You can feel his precum blooming in the deepest part of your anus, and you inhale through your nostrils. “You’re done, Thoma. It’s my turn. So keep your hands off while I’m using her.”

                                          A frown conjures over Thoma’s features but no retort comes from him.

                      A long, prevailing voices out of your mouth as you feel a familiar movement inside your cunt. Once again, you and Thoma had a vast experience with different sexual endeavors, and fingering is nothing foreign to you. You can recount a time in which Thoma had either vested himself the courage or the stupidity of mischievous deviant in the celebration of . . . well, you do not quite recall the occasion Ayato had graciously requested your presence in a form of a letter and a gift, all you can remember is the spill of wine, discussions of personal or business affairs, and bouts of laughter among the socializing nobles while Thoma scissors his fingers in your pussy, taking utmost delight in your flushed face as you struggle and writhe with his actions.

                                  But feeling Ayato doing the same to you, such a familiar foreign sensation.

                   Subtle and nearly inaudible noises of squish and squirts streams out of your abused cunt. You can feel your sweat mixing with Ayato’s as you lay pathetically, helplessly on his lean chest, taking his assault in both your holes. Your breasts bounce along with his thrusts, and your nipples perking with the ripples of pleasure coursing through your body and the coldness of the evening.

                                                                       You moan. “A-Ayato,”

                                        Ayato shushes you comfortingly. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Your pussy is telling me everything I need to know. You’re close.” He grunts. “And so am I. Say,” He smiles at you even through the exhaustion of his actions. “Should I cum inside of you?”

                                        Your locks springs in the same directions as you shake your head vigorously. “No! Archon, please, don’t – ” Your voice streams a series of pleas and opposition, but your actions did not deceive. You roll your pelvis towards him, taking his thick manhood deeper inside your anus. With how his face contorts and his fruitless endeavors to keep his leering smile adorning his mien, you can tell your wanton actions are beginning to break through his dauntless façade. “Only Thoma can – ” Inhale. “ – cum inside me!”

                                                          Ayato hums, head tilting. “Is that so? Well then,” He whips his head towards Thoma’s direction, and mentioned male averts his gaze from the Commissioner. “The choice is yours. This is your little plaything,” He thrusts up in your ass significantly harsher and curls his fingers inside your pussy hole, causing you to choke. He laughs quietly. “Right?”

                               You face Thoma, pleading. “Thoma . . . ”

                                          Thoma stares at you, but something is amiss. It can be difficult deciphering what prevails throughout Thoma’s scope of perception, but in solemn moments when you catch his eyes and he takes note and understands your tribulations in particular dilemmas, he always reveals his cards, his emotions. But now, you can only depict a single thing from you – conniving.

            “Ayato did say he wanted to stain your insides too.” You bite your lower lip and your pussy flutters all around Ayato’s long and wet digits. How filthy his words are, it made you feel dirty. “Right now, you’re his to do anything with.”

                       Your lips part as to say something, but Ayato dips his head on your neck and sucks on your skin. You let out a yelp of shock, stumbling over your words until all that is left of your ability is to mewl.

                                                    “Aww, don’t be dishearted,” Your eyes widen as you find Thoma close to your face, nose brushing against his. He rubs his nose against yours. “You’re a very good girl, no?”

                                   It took everything you got to supply Thoma with a nod through your symphony of noises.

                                                                                        “Then, let Ayato cum inside you.”

            You sob, feeling Ayato increase his speed. The pain in your ass flits away slowly, and the overcoming lecherous arousal returns once more. Your folds squelch around the fingers entering your nether hole. You mumble, “You won’t get mad?”

                             Thoma shakes his head. “No, princess.” He chimes. “Besides, you’re about to cum, too, right? Why would I deprive my obedient girl pleasure?”

                                            And you were. Despite yourself, despite the dignity you keep repeating to yourself, your body wants what it wants. Your eyes cast down on the pavement as contemplate. There is not much to consider, however, and you lock eyes with Thoma.

                    “I’ll be his little cum dump for tonight.”

                                                        Your words take Thoma by surprise as he leans away from you slightly, eyes dilated.

                                                         “Oh, fuuuuuuck – ”

        Dots of white and black blotch your line of sight as you are slammed against the floor. You groan, feeling pain blossoming at the back of your head. You can feel your head throbbing for a moment, until it was replaced by the feeling of Ayato’s throbbing cock in your ass. Your pussy is hollow and thrumming, desperate for something to enter it.

                                                                            As you regain your eyesight, you can see Ayato hovering you, light blue locks curtaining his face as he looks down at your frame. He exhales, it sounded like an exasperated laugh. “This is where you belong.”

                    Tears stream down the sides of your face. “Aya – ” You try to move your hands but no matter what little strength you exert, they did not budge. It was only then did you realize that Ayato had your hands pinned above your head, thus, leaving you for him to do whatever he wants.

                                      “Ayato!” Finally, you managed to yell.

                                                      He doesn’t stop fucking your ass. If anything, the way you called out to him, shouted his name in the midst of ecstasy, awakened something inside of him and had him hammering in your ass faster. Your walls can feel his veins bulging against them, and the bulbous tip of his shaft seemingly trying to bury itself in the deepest part of you.

             He pulls back without ever completely leaving your asshole. His cockhead rests at the tight rear entrance, and is quick to slam back into you harshly, showing no regards for your pleasure. Only his.

                              “Going to cum – ” Ayato breathes out. “ – cum with me.”

                                         With his other hand, he inserts his fingers in your pussy again and wastes no time shoving them in and out of your opening. His actions weren’t teasing; it was impatient and is more than ready to reach its climax.

    Your legs flail on either side of Ayato, feet kicking up or skidding painfully against the pavement. A pair of hands wrap around one of your ankles and force them fat on the floor, locking you in place.

                                       Thoma, what are you –

      “Cum, [ Your Name ],” Ayato orders, his smirk broadening with triumph. “Show Thoma exactly how good my cock feels.”

                 Your head shakes, a scorching sensation spreading across the back of your skull as you rub your head against the ground. “I-I won’t – ” Your verbal resistance falls on deaf ears. Ayato neglects your words and continues shoving his fingers in your pussy. With one last curl of his fingers in your cunny, your pupils dilate, mouth hanging agape, and your spine arches as your velvety walls clench around Ayato’s digits and his member. An unintelligible and discordant prattling cascades down your lolled tongue, interweaving with the execrable harmony of your juices squelching.

                          Hot, warm cum coats Ayato’s thrusting fingers as you squirt through his ministrations. His entire hand is soaked in your essence, but it doesn’t appear to aggravate Ayato. In fact, his mien is a monolith of gratification.

                                                          Ayato inhales. “That’s right. Let yourself go, [ Your Name ].”

             It did not take long for Ayato to reach his peak as well. After a couple of more thrusts and moaning of your name beneath his hot breath, his swollen tip kisses the deepest part of your ass, and there, he unloads himself. His moans are loud and unbridled, and in a moment of sanity, you ponder if he had let go of his slight of waking anybody from their slumber. But then again, he doesn’t seem to care for it at all from the very beginning, dropping comments regarding to it simply to get on your nerves.

                                You squirm and writhe in discomfort at the new feeling. His cum is thick and hot, filling you up to the brim with ease.

                               So full, so full . . .

                  The aftermath comes in a long, prevailing string of quietude. You can heart your heart pounding against your ribcage, but nothing can compare to the debased noises of spurting as Ayato deposits his semen in your rear hole. Though your vision is obscured by your tears, you manage to catch an ambiguous image of what expression adorned Ayato’s visage. Only when you had blinked them away did you realize that what you had illustrated in your mind was the truth.

                                    His eyes are closed, sweat beading the crown of his head. He’s panting, clearly exhausted from fucking you, and yet he continues driving his cock in your ass, trying to shove as much spunk as he can deep in your anus.

                                   “G-God,” Ayato breathes out. He opens his eyes and locks eyes with you. “You are a little cum dump. You take all of my cum.”

            He did as he promised you. He didn’t leave a single place untouched by his cum inside your ass, completely inseminating you by your puckered hole.

                 You have no clue how long it took before Ayato had unloaded every single drop of his cum inside your ass before he draws away from you. He lets go of your wrists with a low discharge of air from his lips. As his length eases out of your rear hole, your walls – greedy for more of the pleasure it had given to you – tries to keep him inside of you, clasping around the base but with all your strength depleted, you cannot do anything but let him separate from you. Your chest rumbles in a purr when Ayato’s cockhead pops out of you.

                          “God,” He puffs out as he slides himself next to you, back reclining against the bedframe. “That was . . . ”

              You are unable to make out what he had said next; all that you can feel is his cum gushing out of your ass, dribbling down your ass crack and pooling around the floor in small drips.

      A needy whine neatly meshed with a broken cry of objection stumbles out of your mouth. So cold. Everything is warm, you are warm, blanketed in sweat and cum. Courtesy of this, the wintry cold of the night makes you hyperaware of the hot, thick spunk crammed inside your puffy ass. You can feel the frigid gust of winds filtering through the small openings on the windows. Ever so slowly, you bring your arms and knees to your chest, curling on the flooring with a weary sigh.

                          Ayato breathlessly laughs. “Thoma” Heaves he as he recovers from the previous events. “You have my utmost gratitude.” His caerulean pair of eyes shifts to your direction, evaluating your drained and disheveled figure. He raises right hand and reaches forward towards your crumpled form. You quake quite a bit upon feeling his finger pressing against the rim of your asshole, still embellished with his essence. Humming, he gathers a pearl of his cum over the flatness of his forefinger and after a close and silent inspection, he lays his finger in your swollen cunny, swirling said finger around slit – which is currently trickling out residues of your own climax – and mixes his cum with your own.

                                            Shuffling, and a thud sounds behind your frame, and a whisper – “Princess . . . ” – rings pass your fatigue.

        Before you can comprehend the new development of your situation, muscular arms wrap around your body, and you discover yourself bound in the embrace of the Kamisato housekeeper. His bodily warmth welcomes you, in addition to the comforting words he whispers in your ear, praising, worshipping you, telling you how much of an obedient good girl you are for taking both of their cocks in your tight holes. You can feel the corners of your lips tugging upwards, amused and flattered by the concern and pride in his inflection.

                                                    Thoma whirls his head and shoots a stern glare towards the Head of the Kamisato Clan. He has yet to recall that he was speaking to his superior. “Both her holes? Really, Ayato?”

                         Ayato snickers as he returns Thoma’s gaze. “Don’t women like that? I’m only giving [ Your Name ] the service she deserves.” He argues. “You know how I am, Thoma. I don’t do anything halfheartedly.”

                                    You eye both of them from your rest against Thoma’s chest, and you clear your throat. Quickly, their attention is diverted to you, hues curious and worried.

        Thoma run his hand through your hair, fingers crossing on your scalp gently. “Are you okay, princess?” Questions Thoma, upset visible on his features. His eyes dart all around your appearance, inspecting every inch of your face for any clear signs of distress. “Are you hurt? Tell me!”

                         Ayato regards Thoma with a blank slate. “Goodness, Thoma, what do you think I am? I care about [ Your Name ] too.” You swear you heard him murmur something in a whisper after his initial statement, one that is laced with bitterness, but you what you can only distinguish were a few words – “ . . . mine first . . . ”

                                                                  You revert your attention back to Thoma and you shake your head. “No, no, Thoma, please,” You assure, giggling mutely. “Ayato didn’t hurt me. Well, at least, not much.” Your hand drapes on his arm and you offer him a smile, something that unravels the knots of tension screwed over his countenance. “Really, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

                                  Thoma nods, breathing out sharply. “Okay, okay,” He mumbles. “But if you feel anything – ”

                                                Your eyes roll heavenwards. “Thoma, God – ”

            He pouts at you. “I’m just making sure.”

                                                                “I don’t want to disturb the moment you two are having but,” You and Thoma face Ayato as he clears his throat. “ – could you at least give me a warning? I’d rather not witness this romance between the two of you. I don’t need a daily reminder of my loneliness.”

                        You hear someone clearing their throat, and you whip your head towards the source of the sound. There it is again, the blankness on Ayato’s face. The second you had assessed the expressionlessness of your dear old friend, it disappeared, now replaced by an affable mask adorning his appearance.

                                                            “I feel like a leaf swimming in blue waters. An outsider in my own house.” Ayato comments, chuckling. “How amusing.”

                                  Thoma laughs at what he had spoken, but you did not. You burrow your brows together, appraising Ayato through narrowed eyes.

                                              There’s no mirth in his voice.

                     “Ah, my apologies, my lord.” Ah, it seems Thoma had finally remembered Ayato’s status. “But everything is done and sealed. Everyone is satisfied. Aren’t you?”

        “I certainly am,” You chirp gleefully.

                                                          Ayato smiles, but it seemed odd. Strained.

                                 “Right.” Is the only thing that left his hips. You and Thoma watch silently as the light blue haired male rising to his feet after collating the apparel he had discarded. You can hear Thoma humming in delight as he twirls his finger around a lock of your hair, coiling it before letting it slither back down. He’s heedless of the stifling and tense air in the room. But not you.

              You’ve known Ayato longer than Thoma did. If he can’t read him, you can.

                          “Ayato,” You call to him. He didn’t turn to face you and regard his name, but you knew he heard you. Thus, you call him once more, and this time, he turns to you, brows raised in question. “Are you . . . alright?”

                                         Ayato sported a demeanor that worried you. Pained, befuddled, and ireful to oneself. But to your surprise, of all that could appear on his visage, it was a sneer that manifest over Ayato’s vexed mien.

  “Like Thoma said, everyone is satisfied. So, you don’t have to be worried about me. I’m fine.” He adjusts his clothes over his forearm and stares at you in solemn promise. “You don’t have to worry about anyone spreading rumors. They know the consequences of crossing the Kamisato Clan.”

                                                                    Ayato closes his eyes, breathes in, and opens them once again, boring his sights into your own and Thoma’s. “I’ll be leaving now. I have to meet with Yae Miko tomorrow to discuss about the festival that’ll be held in Narukami next month. It’ll be discourteous to her if I were to visit in a fatigued state.” He coughs. “But that doesn’t I won’t have time for the two of you tomorrow. As much as I’d like things to remain as they were, we have to discuss about what happened tonight.”

                                    Thoma nods once, “Yes, yes, of course.”

                            Ayato steps forward, and in his motion, your vision swiftly finds its focal point. Heat rushes to your face and you turn away, afraid Ayato – especially Thoma – would take notice of your embarrassing mistake. Unfortunately for you, the young Commissioner sees your deplorable gaze upon his flaccid girth and smiles wickedly.

                                                  He strides over to you with confidence, his smile sending a surge to your nether core. “A goodbye gift for tonight,” And as silently as he could, he adds, “So you’ll think of me when you’re with Thoma.”

                 You attentively watch with hungry and greedy hues as Ayato’s long and slender fingers envelop his worn-out member. He strokes it several times, squeezing out a glob of precum before gently placing the tip over your lips. Acting out on instincts, your lips wrap around his cockhead, tongue flicking out of its confines to lick and taste the remnants of his orgasm.

                                  “She’s a needy little thing, isn’t she?” Ayato chuckles.

        A short laugh exudes from Thoma’s brims. “She’s a lot of things,” Starts your darling lover. You feel his gaze burning against the side of your face as he surveys you from his position. “But being my slut is certainly one of my favorites.”

                                                  You whine in protest as Ayato pulls away from you, leaving you with your tongue out akin to a dog. His hand lets go of his member, allowing it to plop between his thighs. You don’t know what sort of entity came over you and pulled at your strings, but you find yourself lurching forward, chasing after the thin string of saliva and cum bridging your lips and Ayato’s cockhead.

                                    Thoma merely heaves out a sigh. “Come on, princess,” He tugs you far from Ayato, pressing you close against his body. “You’re too tired for another round.”

          Your head shakes lightly, weakly denying Thoma’s allegations. “You underestimate me, Thoma!”

                          He chuckles through his deriding brims as he passes by you and his servant. Upon reaching the shoji door, he cast his gaze over his shoulders, what once was a disdainful smirk now superseded by an ingenuous smile, one that could fool many.

                          Tales of the Yakshas had been told throughout lands and nations. Their loyalty to the Geo Archon, their mettle against foes that bared their teeth at their beloved land, the karma cursed upon them for the countless blood they had shed in the very same soil they swore to protect with their life in the line.

                                    Even little children, all bearing curiosity in their eager eyes, huddle around their elders, beholding them with wide shimmering orbs as they attentively lend their ears to them. Evidence of awe are present in their miens, reactions to whenever a Yaksha is mentioned performing an act of barbarism to a vividly defined brute, and articulation of outrage and vexation if their commended and highly extolled member of the Yakshas faces a stalemate or is undergoes the torment of their dreadful terror that is the penalty of their own horrendous actions in the Archon War. As young as they are, they are incapable of completely comprehending the asperity of the fates of the Yakshas, and the elderly had a smidge of cognizance left in them to keeps their lips sealed and elected to relay to them a saccharine account of the culmination of the Yakshas.

                          How can they ever begin to formulate an explanation that would not scar their golden, ingenuous hearts of the truth behind the triumphs of the Geo Archon’s warriors? That most had succumbed to their own hell, leaving one lonely Yaksha dwelling in the ghosts of his past?

             All they can do is simply offer them a jovial smile as they plead for them to remain seated and indulge them in another tale, tousle their hairs, and claim that there is nothing left for them to say – that the Yakshas had been remunerated for their service to their nation. They’ll watch and listen to them marvel at the grandeur of the Yakshas, fall into a callow row with another as to who of the five rises above the others, and at times, if they find time in their hands and obtain sturdy twigs around towering trees, they play pretend, imitating their favored Yakshas and defeating their enemies which are simply other children (who are willing to relinquish the better roles and selected to be villains of their game) or scarecrows they discover in rice fields.

                                     In the snow-swept terrain of Snezhnaya, the stories of the Yakshas prevail. But in contrast to the people in other nations, the citizens of Snezhnaya are well conversant with cruel realities that this world holds, and the fall of the Yakshas, they do not bat an eye to. Fear and reluctance are not common in the land of the Tsaritsa. Other than for their Archon, their nation, and their families, the people within Snezhnaya must possess a heart as cold as ice and as hard as a stone. The very foundation of Snezhnaya is their rigidity to any circumstances birthed from within their country or beyond their borders, thus, why other nations are chary of them.

                                   Their children are no exceptions to this harsh prospect. You would know, for you’re one of the thousands of children in Snezhnaya to be pushed into reaching these unbelievably horrific and disturbing expectancies. Of course, there exist the rare select number of youths that are exempted from bearing the weight of the Cryo Archon’s expectations, but you can only dream that you could be one of those children that is not handled with a rough hand, but rather given the chance to grow without an eye boring against the back of their head and experience childhood.

                                       In your land, all are placed under the belief that they can attain the highest form of acknowledgment of the Tsaritsa. Any person who exceeds her expectancies, she offers her hand and grants them the opportunity to affiliate with the Fatui, and if one proves their abilities to the Tsaritsa, the Harbingers open their doors to you. The favor and benefits entailed with the recruitment are endless, and with this broad orbit of possibilities, you can consider it miraculous how none dared transgress against the Tsaritsa and utilized the resources within their disposal to conceive their own selfish and destructive scheme.

                    The day your mother and father walked away and left you in the hands of the Tsaritsa’s confederates is the day you had to let go of everything you had lived for and believed in. The Tsaritsa years for complete control over her subjects, ensuring the safety of her dear nation. There are a handful of children included in your conditioning but due to your closer association with the Tsaritsa, you are under a heavier and harsher administration.

                                                          Sometimes, you wonder if you had purposely done poorly, perhaps your name would not have been dragged unto dirt and scorned at whenever you venture to foreign soil, have your title as the twelfth Fatui Harbinger frequently used to describe you as a human being, and recover that childhood you had lost when the Tsaritsa got her hands on you.

                              You did not want this life. You did not want to be seen and treated as enemy. You did not find any sentiment of joy and pleasure when your duty calls for cruel deeds. But the Tsaritsa has her eyes on you, always, and a burden like this is not something you can disrobe whenever your heart desires. For eternity, you are to uphold your vows as a Harbinger, a loyal servant for the Tsaritsa to use and discard when she pleases. A pawn, you are to her.

                The stories of the Yakshas is what kept you sane throughout your years of training in ice and snow. None of the people you’ve met inside and outside of Snezhnaya could accurately understand the hollowness slowly eating you up in the inside – the dark and dreadful thoughts of taking one’s life to escape the world of Archons and Visions, the physical pain you had grit your teeth through at every night you fall on your mattress, the fear you’ve awakened from the innocent, the vermillion blood you’ve shed and soiled the ground with, the heavy responsibilities you must shoulder, the guilt of your past and future endeavors.

                               You think to yourself as you gaze at the horizon, observing how the moon graces its light at Liyue Harbor as the ship you have boarded inches closer and closer to land – If anyone is to understand what I’m going through, it’s him. Your finger cinches tightly around your arm. The Conqueror of Demons . . . the only living Yaksha who had not surrendered to his karma.

                                                        You have stilled your heart and soul, walked in steadfastness and head lifted up in feigned nonchalance as gazes of contempt are cast your way through the Harbor and villages, through the stone pathways or bamboo bridges, and even as you approach the conjectured whereabouts of the Yaksha, even if the area in which you linger as you contemplate over your stupidity of inclination to another nation’s hero and desire for understanding, you still feel as though the very land of the Geo Archon is resisting you, regarding you as nothing more than a threat simply waiting to be pushed in the wrong direction to bring Liyue down to the ground.

                 You should have seen it coming, really. Who are you to think the Yaksha, a veteran and a loyal servant of the Geo Archon whose only duty now is to be a protector of Liyue and ensure security and flourish to the people within his vested domination, would lower his weapon, seal his lips, and listen as you tell him of your burden, of the tale you thought he could commiserate with?

                                              He appeared in a wisp of black and white, mask of his past adorning his face as he stands before you with his polearm in hand. There is no welcome in his presence. He is enshrouded with deep distrust and scruple, animosity, and the overcoming sense of fulfilling the very reason his existence has come to be. Despite the mask embellishing his appearance, the heat and loathing in his gaze cutting through your skin.

                                                     The battle ensues before you can open your mouth to inform him of your true and harmless intentions. You attempt to reason with him, to enlighten him that you have come in peace and humility, and even brandish your weapon and cast it aside to corroborate your innocence but the Conqueror of Demons heeds not of your words and action, and continues delivering blow after blow, even if you’ve done nothing to retaliate and continually evade his assaults.

    Truly, you have nothing but respect and admiration for other nations and the heroes they shelter, but they did not know that. And even if they did, they might refuse to accept this truth and put you under scrutiny of falsities, believing the picture of villain they perceive you as from the very beginning.

                                 In all honesty, you anticipated the cross the last Yaksha has towards you. With your title as a Fatui Harbinger, it is not surprise word of your visit to Liyue disseminated rather rapidly, reaching even the furthest corners of the land. And as a protector of Liyue, the Yaksha is well versed of how the Fatui operates. If one is heard to be a Harbinger, every coarse and malevolent deed than can ever be thought of is somehow in your capable hands.

                      You thought he would listen to you, or at least understand the bits and pieces of phrases you try to communicate to him as he prowls around you. However, he just like everyone else you’ve met. Seeing you as –

                                            “ – an unredeemable monster from the nation of the unforgiving snow.” The memory of the manner of how he had addressed you, inflection doused in repugnance and hatred and the point of his polearm firmly burrowing against your flesh, adequate to lacerate you and draw out blood from your throat. The mask serves it purpose to conceal his identity, but his voice, the affronting words he used, both can accurately imply that you are lesser than dirt beneath his feet. You did not know this being nor do you have a connection that could validate the pain that shot through you, but the tears that sprung to your eyes burned your and the only reason you have not completely been eaten by the darkness growing inside your chest is because you’re a Harbinger acclimatized to Snezhnayan belief that tears and weakness are frowned upon, and anyone who transgresses against it will be shunned.

                                                            Even if Snezhnaya is far from being your home, it is the only semblance you have left of one. You cannot afford to be turned away to the only thing you have left of home, now that you’ve come face to face with the reality you are alone in this world to bear your burdens and miseries, carrying out onuses of a Harbinger against your will.

              No one in this world will listen to me. I hate it here. I hate what I’m doing. I don’t want to continue what I’m doing. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. You open your mouth. Just listen, please –  

                                   “I’m not like them.” The lack of conviction in your voice made you sound pitiful, nothing like a Harbinger would. The other eleven would rather confront the Tsaritsa and embrace her wrath than provide their foes any evidence of weakness but you’re far too worn out to care, far too desperate for someone to believe you. Just something as simple as that, but even that doesn’t seem possible.

                                                             Because you’re a Harbinger, incapable of mercy and kindness, living for the Tsaritsa’s commands until you’ve accomplished your tasks and discarded.

                            The foot he had placed on your chest presses harder against you. You part your mouth to speak and breathe, but your lungs – constricted by the pressure the Adeptus put over your frame – did not cooperate with you, only small intakes of air slipping your system.

                                                    “Liar.” He declares in utmost certitude. “You think I’m dumb enough to trust a Fatui like you?”

                                              Even the recluse of Liyue denies you. You had to accept the truth there and then in the face of death – I’m all alone.

                         Your position as a Harbinger felt like a mark scarring you in a way you can never hide. Even if you leave behind your life as a pawn of the Tsaritsa and live your life in seclusion, you will still be characterized as a selfish, merciless, monster born of Snezhnaya.

                                                                                      Something snapped in you as you drown in the Yaksha’s statement. It was moderately miniscule, smaller than the devastating emotions you’ve grappled with in your daily life, but all it took was that snap for you to adhere the calls of the people and demonstrate just how a proper Harbinger performs in a heat of battle – and in the heat of fury.

                                “Come on, Yaksha, I know you can do better than that.”

                                                            A hand of yours, jerking from the thrill of the situation, grapples stringently a thick lock of the Adeptus’ dark tresses as yet another feeble stroke of his tongue gliding softly across your damp slit. Without any regard for the Yaksha’s comfort, your digits tighten their hold on his hair and firmly push his head forward between your legs.

    You smirk as you feel his tongue retract back inside his mouth and his lips graze against your slit.

                   A noise peeps through his occupied mouth but nonetheless, he never ceases his actions. His tongue eagerly laps at your cunt, savoring your juices. The sight of a feared immortal withering in the hands of a Harbinger is quite a comical spectacle. The Conqueror of Demons who once pointed his spear at you is on his knees, eyes closed in a trance, hands bound behind his back, and the lower half of his face completely smeared with your essence. Oh, if only the Tsaritsa could see your accomplishment.

                        You previously thought the Adeptus of Liyue are given generous accommodations for their heroism back in the Archon War, but to your surprise, they did not, and all of them reside in whatever place they deem pleasant and discreet. It is only your luck that someone had taken in the Yaksha and now, you had a temporary chamber to play with him for as long as you want, and at the moment, it is engulfed with the sound of wet noises as the Adeptus pleasures your womanhood.

                                              A hum thrums against your throat as you feel his pink nub prod in and out of your hole, before detaching from your pussy. You cock your head to the side, staring blankly at the Yaksha as he catches his breath. Pink dusts over his countenance and his wet lips glisten under the moonlight. His tongue lolls out akin to a dog, drool drooping from his lower lips and collecting in the small space between his bent legs.

                    You exhale through your nose, amused. Well, he’s certainly acting like a dog. This look suits him nicely.

                                          “Tired already?” You coo at the golden irised Yaksha seated on his knees between your legs, maliciousness glinting in your hues. “But we’ve barely started.” Gripping his head tightly, you roll your pelvis forward. You smother a moan threatening to permeate through your lips as his nose nudges slightly in your pussy lips and his tongue reaches deeper in your opening. Swallowing your spit, a contemptuous sneer mars at your mien. “This is not what I expected from the Conqueror of Demons. This is a disappointing performance for a Yaksha. Are you sure you’re giving it you’re all, boy?”

                                                             It seemed your words have become some sort of sobering factor for the Yaksha for the hazy pool of lust that enchanted him to your undoing. The blank slate in his pupils ebbs away, and the corner of his eyes turned to slits as he addresses your supercilious form with such an applauding and appalling intent of slaughter.

                                 Oh, that look of hatred. A smile threatens to appear over your countenance. It’s getting quite boring.

                                                       “Oh, quit looking at me like that.” A scoff of disdain. “You’re making yourself look more foolish.” Without releasing your clutch over his strands, you lift your hips off his bedding and brushed your nether lips against his mouth, daubing his thin lips again with a new coat of your essence. A small gasp escapes you as you feel his tongue poking out of the cavern, his head stirring left and right as he licks drags the base of his tongue up your slit. The detestation that once carved among his features is nowhere to be seen, once more lust in its stead.

                    Carefully, you slot yourself back to his mattress, mischief and disbelief intermingling in your own mien. “How curious,” You mumble under your breath. “Not even a minute had passed and you’re back to worshipping me. You’re an easy thing to break, it seems. I’m sure your dear Archon would be surprised to see you like this, his only living Yaksha.”

                                                        Through squinted scrutiny, you study his shambolic appearance. His silky tresses are mangled from your previous clash outside Wangshu Inn and how you are clasping around them at the moment. His tears prick at the corners of his eyes, a sight to behold, especially from someone who is highly regarded. His cheeks are turning deep scarlet, and his puffs of warm air emerge from his quivering lips.

                          With your unoccupied hand, you place your index finger on his lower lips and brush the wetness tainting him. With a stern glower, you lay your damp finger on his lips. It seems he has caught the message. He opens his mouth slowly and his tongue wastes no time wrapping around your, savoring your juices with his eyes come to a complete close.

                                             “Don’t be greedy, Yaksha. There’s still more of my cum for you to eat.”

                      Your intention to evoke a reaction from him is futile. He simply opens his eyes and stares into nothingness as he sucks your finger like a man turned mindless. Silence only prevails. You click your tongue in disappointment. “You’re so quiet now.” You murmur blandly. “And you were so, so loud when I had my fingers up your asshole – ”

         Your hand, somehow, beat that of the speed of the Yaksha. He rises to his feet in lightning speed, but before he can enact his motives, your Electro Vision glows brightly as your power surges through your veins.

                                          You can only impart your gratitude to the Electro Archon for finding you worth of wielding her Element and giving you the ability to beat the rapidity of the Vigilant Yaksha. In a think wisp of dark and light, he rises to his feet in a speed that only immortals and seasoned adventurers can comprehend. The restraints around his wrists break and his arm shoots forward, hand wide open to grab your throat.

                            The Electro Vision seated on your shoulder glows blindingly bright as your prowess surges throughout your veins. In a speed that parallels to that of the Yaksha, you grasp his arm tightly with the use of one hand, fingers digging unto his flesh and shoving his clawing hand away from your body. Without a moment of hesitation and giving not a single slip of chance for him to recover, you swing your leg under him, causing him to lose his footing. As he plummets to the pavement, the back of his head hitting the floor, you loom over him, flashing him a sardonic smile before straddling his fallen form and pinning his wrists above his head.

                                                      His body is under your authority, under your own, and his expression holds various emotions that overlap with each other but the prominent among the amalgamation are bewilderment, incredulity, and enmity.

                        Your beam broadens as you gaze down at him. “Aha! That expression is just what I’m looking for!” You titter wickedly. “Had it ever occurred to you that you’d find yourself in this situation?” He keeps his mouth shut and his glare worsening. You hum. “No? I’ll just guess no.”

                                      The Yaksha lunges – attempts to – forward, gnashing his gritted teeth at you. With your other hand, you push him back down by his chest, a resounding thud filtering in the room as hit head made harsh contact with the ground.

                                                “Ah, ah, ahh,” You chirp gleefully. The smile embroidered over your features is one that could mislead a million that one would almost certainly overlook the intricately sewn motif of foreboding the hung around you. “Didn’t your Archon teach you about manners? This isn’t how you treat the visitors of your land.”

                                              The Yaksha presents you a scowl. “Get off me and I’ll show you how I treat parasites of this land.”

                                            You click your tongue several times, a disapproving guise adorning your mien. “Still so mean! Why must you wound me so, dear Adeptus?” Your fingers drum against his chest, a tuneless melody emitting from your tightly closed lips. “I supposed I can take some time out of my schedule to discipline you. It’s clear Morax failed to, and it’s up to me to pick up the pieces of his inadequacy.”

                  Tap, tap, tap, your digits goes, drumming a rhythm against his chest before placing your palm flat against him. “My way of disciplining is nothing that you’re not used to, so you’ll live.” You watch his pupils widen as electricity sparks out of your fingertips, the flashes of murky purple cutting across your skin and reaching nearly every nook and cranny in his darkened room.

                                                              “Wait – ” The Yaksha protests, lifting his body off the floorboards for a brief moment before you push him down once more, securing him to his rightful place – beneath you.

                                                  “But I do apologize if I end up overdoing it. I promise – ” You close in on him, nose brushing against his. “ – I’ll own up to whatever happens to you.”

        Lightning releases from your fingertips and courses through the Vigilant Yaksha's figure. A flash of light permeates throughout Wangshu Inn, but the silence of the dead of night prevails. Nothing more than another strange occurrence that occurs here and there in Liyue.

                                     A blinding light accompanies the release of lightning from the tips of your fingers. The Yaksha’s eyes are overcome with light in the color of purple for a split second, the same as to how the light streams from the floor and up to the ceiling – certainly capturing the attention of patrons who had unfortunately chosen to have their stay in Wangshu Inn – before the life in them vanishes and they roll to the back of his head. His small and slender frame spasms for a good a while as Electro spears through his system and stiffens just as quickly.

                        His lips are parted in a manner that you can only interpret as a silent scream. Moisture, from his tears no doubt, cascades down the corners of his eyes, and his throat throbs abnormally. You lift your digits off his chest, take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, and lean closely to his mouth – sure enough, soft, and hardly audible dribbles of whimpers pushes through his throat. Excruciating pain is painted upon his visage, one that even a Yaksha like him who had been religiously tormented by the ghosts of his past, by the Karma lurking behind his back, could not even begin to cope with.

                         A malicious grin is drawn over your own features. This strength you possess, this authority bestowed upon you by the Tsaritsa, this Vision the Electro Archon has wrongfully given you – no wonder the other Harbingers are enraptured with their powers and influence, this is the sort of high nothing could hold a candle to.

                        If I’m going to be alone on this, then I’ll just have to make the most of it.

                                                “Come out of it,” You release the Yaksha’s chin and with a swift swing of a hand, a reverberating sound of your palm connecting with his cheek curses the room. “Don’t blackout on me. Show me the vigilance everyone is talking about.”

                                     No response is drawn out of him, even after you’ve given ample amount of time for him to come to his senses. His heart still beats against the very hand that brought him to this brink of despair, and yet his consciousness wanders.

                                                                           You let out a huff as boredom strikes you. You tilt your head to the left, hair bobbing along with your shift. “Archon, the Tsaritsa must be out of her mind telling me you’re someone I should be cautious of. Look at you,” You grin. “You’re a mess!”

                        Both your hands press against his and you elevate yourself from his body. However, rigidity dawns over you as realization slowly sets. You have no knowledge as to what exactly occurs if you electrocute a human being in the midst of their arousal, but perhaps this is simply for the reason

                                            Your hands, delicately as you can manage, and elevate yourself from his figure. Perhaps you might have overdone and drew him to a state of idleness for a prolonged period. However, rigidity downs over your own form as realization gradually weaves its way to your senses. You have no knowledge as to what precisely transpires on and within a human body once inflicted with surging electricity materializing from the hands of an Electro Vision holder when their body is amid arousal and crave for release. You have no prior experience with this that could lead you to a permanent inference.

                             But the Yaksha – even if he takes an appearance of a human, he is no mortal. One can easily attest to this just by the mere sight of him. Though your previous image of him has been corrupted, the power bequeathed in him by the Geo Archon does not dwindle and he remains reigning above humanity, a single strike from a Harbinger he can withstand, thus, exhibiting his difference among those who born from a woman and die by time. It is possible his body reacts differently when electrocuted.

                                               “You won’t say it, but I will. You’re a little freak.” You look over your shoulder, a sneer gracing over your brims as his erection twitches and rubs against your exposed cunt. Droplets of white, sticky precum drools over your slit. He may be adamantly protesting against your actions, but his body cannot deny the pleasure. “Still turned on, even after an unforgivable deed?”

                                      As your taunt comes to a close, you lift your hips off his frame and push up and down, your clit chaffing on his cock. You feel the Yaksha tremble underneath you as you continue your teasing, and soon, the desolation that had once clouded his vision, disappears, leaving a blank slate.

                      Your jarring jeer broadens at the sight. “Who would’ve thought that the Yaksha of Liyue could look like this,” Slowly, you inch yourself closer and closer to his until his head is situated between your thighs, your cunt hovers over his drooling lips. “Beneath a Harbinger with her cum all over his face.”

            Slowly, you perch yourself delicately as you can over his face. A shiver runs down your spine as his lips make contact with your sopping lips. Spasms course through the Yaksha’s collapsed figure, unable to recover in duly time from the ravaging tremor and pain you have prompted on him. But seemingly, out of instincts, his tongue protrudes from his wet cavern and experimental licks slide against your clit. The pink nub strokes folds lips a few times before its tip delves into your gaping hole.

                        Your entirety shudders as your opening is breached open. Your eyes rolls to the back of your head as his tongue travels further and further inside of you, reaching sensitive places that causes your toes to curl and thighs to tremble.

                                                    “This is where you’re meant to be – God, fuck yes – ” You mewl out in ecstasy as perspiration dribbles down your thighs and spine. “A Harbinger’s plaything.”

                                             The control you thought you had a tight grasp on has slipped out of your reach with ease as you find yourself succumbing to your own desires. Your pelvis draw back and forth in a moderate pace, digging yourself deeper on the Yaksha’s slithering tongue. Your soft, velvety walls clamp tightly around the flexible organ, almost to the point where he can no longer find a way out to properly stick his tongue in and out of your cunny.

                                                         And still, his countenance shows no sign of consciousness.

                            A chuckle pierces through your sneering brims. “Making me do all the work, is this how you’re planning to get back at me?” Your knees scrape painfully against the flooring as you spread wide open your thighs. An obscene sound of wetness emits from your nether lips. “It’s working very well, if you’re wondering.” With one hand cradling and caressing his cheek, the other flies to his locks and tugs at them, attaching his lips resolutely against your womanhood.  “More, Yaksha, more.”

                                                                  Finally, a response.

                  A feeble and rather pitiful of an attempt of what you have ordered, before his tongue falls limp against your wet clit, your juices dribbling down his tongue and into his throat.

                                      “You’re being dramatic. I didn’t hurt you that much, did I?” Without remorse, you tug at his hair, and you feel a light thrum as strands of his hair pluck from his scalp.  But still, you evoked nothing more other than a tremor surging throughout his body, one so light that you almost thought you were hallucinating. “I thought the Yakshas have endured worse pains before.”

--

                                   Curiosity strikes you for a dear second and with elegance similar to that of a noble lady, you lift your hips off the Yaksha’s form, and you feel a blathering effervesce of laughter developing in your throat.

                               Within a frigid room, among the presence of fellow Harbingers, her icy glower burning across your flesh – your dearest Tsaritsa preaching fervently of the immortals standing as obstacles to the rupture of Liyue’s foundation, recalling of their countless victories in the Archon War even with the knowledge of the costs of such commendable endeavors, and exalting the prowess of the Geo Archon through a gust of glacial fury, clenched hands, blank features, and seethed teeth.

             None of the elected populace of which the Cryo Archon had chosen dismissed her concerns. Though they have utmost confidence in their own abilities and clever whims, but war worn men whose experience exceeds their own are foes that cannot be observed under a lens of underestimation.

                            A fear for Liyue’s protector has been hammered into you by your very own Archon.

            This has to be something the Tsaritsa has planned. She couldn’t have been this concerned about them. You ruminate. Perhaps she only said those things, so we won’t let our guard down. That has to be it.

                    The Vigilant Yaksha, the Conqueror of Demons, pretentious titles which only purpose is to evoke fear and doubt of attainment of victory from those who dare trigger a state of disorder in the Nation of Contracts. No one could have ever wrapped their head around the idea that he could reduced to a fuck toy of an enemy.

                                                              “If anyone sees you like this, do you suppose they’ll turn their heads away from you or spit on you for being so weak and helpless?” A titter flutters out of your mouth. “Ooh, ooh, or maybe they look at you with pity! Hah!” You clamor, delighted by the thought that manifested in your mind. “Either way, I’ll enjoy what I’ll see.”

                                  All you can see from your vantage are his lidded irises, blank of life. A mere husk of what he used to be. His tresses winnows through the small gaps between your digits and softly, you place your hands on either side of his head. You raise yourself just a smidge from his face to take a good look at what crowns over his features – and you are not left disappointed.

                             Regardless of his dwindling consciousness and his paling complexion, scarlet dusts over his cheeks, your wetness glistening on his lips and chin, and his cock – oh, so eager to be pleasured – bulging against his lower ensemble.

                                            “I can hardly believe that you are the same person that protects Liyue. Maybe Morax overestimated this one.” You lower yourself to his shoulders, pussy gliding across his neck and your essence drooling down his throat and to the mattress. His vision swirls for a brief moment as the pressure and pain from his scalp vanishes, instead substituted with a painful grip on his chin. Your head cocks to the side as you assess his disheveled visage. “You know what’s better than having the people of Liyue see you like this?”

           You slip your free hand to your cunt, your digits sliding pass your nether lips and sheathing inside you completely. An audible gulp permeates through your brims as the tautness in your abdomen alleviates. You moan and shiver at the feeling of relief. Your pelvis rocks back and forth against his shoulders, your cunt brushing against his chin as you finger yourself.

                                         It was quiet, too quiet, that you almost did not yield to it. Almost.

                                                        “Oh?” You raise a brow as your gaze falls over the Yaksha once again. His face no longer holds a slate of blankness. There, adorning his fatigued and incensed countenance, was a look of a dagger. You could cut yourself just by indulging yourself to his misery. “Did you say something?”

                                   A moment of silence prevailed in the room and in a time you least expected, he opens his mouth to speak.

                                                                       “I’ll kill you.”

                           His threat has no foundation to stand upon, not when his weapon lays far from his reach and his form pinned beneath your own, overcome with lust and fatigue.

               Your head stirs back, nose turned up to the ceiling and hair cascading from their original position as bouts of manic laughter strings out of your mouth.

                           “Kill me? Kill me?” Not a second later, the joy that etched across your face dissipates, only leaving in its wake a menacing grin. The fingers you had inserted in your hole slides out and you loosen your grip on his chin. “Tell me more. I’ll listen.”

                                                    You evaluate his condition with vacant hues. You feel the rippling sensation carding through his body and the robust front he tries to conceal himself with. He has yet to collect himself from your assault; he still shows signs of suffering from aftershocks.

                  Without a cling of hesitation, you arise from your perch over the Yaksha and tower over him, jeer enhancing as you watch him attempt to take advantage of your actions. He lifts himself to his elbows and his knees skid against the pavement as he tries to bring them closer and mimic your stance, but he is visibly shaking. Anyone could see that such a simple task as standing up is expending what little strength and resilience he has left inside of his slowly rousing consciousness.

                                    “Can’t talk? People do say it’s much better for people to show instead of tell. So come on, show me what you got.” You bring a foot of yours above the Yaksha and struck his chest with a quick swipe. A confounding combination of choking and coughing spills out of his mouth, followed by an audible intake of air as his lungs constricts from the impact. Your arch the foot over his body and with your sole, you press deeper and deeper against the Yaksha, straining his ability to breathe with ease. Twist and turn, twist and turn – deeper and deeper until all that percolates into the room are his desperate weeps for air. “I’m waiting.”

                                                  Your cross your foot across his broadness, and your toes brush against his hard nipples bulging against his shirt. You bite your lip. You slither your toes over his nipples, tweaking and toying each until they poke prominently on his garment. He grits his teeth.

                                  “See? You can’t even stand up.” The Yaksha lies limp on the floor akin to a ragdoll forsaken by its owner, motionless and subdued because of your Vision. Your vision trails down to his lower half, and a daunting leer morphs your demure mien. “My, look at your tiny, tiny cock, so adorable. I’ve been so focused on my pleasure alone that I forgot all about you.”

                                You take your foot from his chest and hover it on his erection. Gently, you brush your toes on the tent of his fitted trousers. Your touch is ghostly, almost too soft for him to feel anything except the pains of budding arousal. You lift your heel against his manhood and push the sharp heel on his balls, pushing them up.

        The Yaksha shifts his head to the side, a thud resounding in the quiet of the room. A whine breezes past his lips and his fingers twitch. “Fuck,” He growl. “Stop that.”

                                                               “Stop what?” You circle the sole of your heel on his girth. He sucks in a deep breath and veins protruded against the flesh of his throat. “Do you have a name, Yaksha?

                                                When he did not suppl you with an answer, a scoff erupts from you.

                                          “Do you prefer being called just Yaksha? Or has the Geo Archon neglected you after you’ve given him your service in the war?”

                         It never crossed your mind he would give you an answer. Your statement is nothing more bot provocation, to vex the Vigilant Yaksha as he either gnashes his teeth at you in a pitiful attempt to assert himself or defend Morax’s name with what residual of strength he has left.

                                             To your surprise, he relents.

                                 The Yaksha breaths in. “Xiao.”

                        “Xiao.” You test his name in your lips. “Xiao, Xiao, Xiao, Xiao – Xiao!” You throw your head back as you clamor your last reiteration.

                                        His name rolls out of your tongue like acid, and you enjoyed how it burned.

                                                              “It suits you.” You roll your heel in spherical motions. Xiao closes his eyes tightly and hisses in pain and pleasure as his girth stirs in his clothes.

                                                            Your foot moves off his nether region and you lower yourself to straddle him. You both moan as your pussy rubs against his covered manhood. Your dampness seeps through his trousers, leaving a wet patch on the fabric. You roll your pussy against his member.

                          He chokes on his own spit. “I told you to stop.” It seems the effects of the electrocution has worn off. His hand darts forward towards your direction.

                                                “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

      Xiao's hands stills as your own pair presses firmly against his chest. "Be mindful of where my hands are. It’ll save you from unnecessary pain," Your fingers rubs his nipples through his clothes. You tug and twist the hardened nubs. "You know what happens if I electrocute you again, no?"

             Stills veils over Xiao as your hands drags over his chest and a purr rumble against your chest, threatening, taunting. A mewl erupts from Xiao’s mouth as your fingers plays with his nipples, tweaking and pulling at the abused nubs. “You’ve just recovered from earlier.” You spout. “Most die on the first electrocution. Even I don’t know what happens to those who faced a second one. But who knows? You’re a war-worn Adeptus, maybe you’ll do better than others.”

                                A scowl contorts his attractive mien, and you chuckle. “Good boy,” Your finger delicately pokes the top of his nose. Innocent the action may seems to others, it awoke white fury in Xiao’s chest. “You know exactly what’s good for you.”

                        “You’re not going to get away this – ah – ” Xiao digs the back of his head against the floor behind him. Your smile flourishes as you rock yourself against his swelling erection. You can feel your juices staining his trousers, creating a larger blotch of precum on his clothing. Despite his vehemence defiance against your ministrations, his prick earnestly responds to your stimulation.

                                        Adorning upon his features was a look that could cut through thick glass, but his hips buck forward against your own, trying to create a friction between both your sexes. The head of his twitching member juts against your nether lips, as though trying to breach into your opening and feel your soft, inner walls swallow him whole.

                                                    “I don’t intend to run away from my consequences. In fact, I want to know what happens if your friends sees you like this.” Upon hearing what you’ve declared, he falls in an enchantment of rigidity. “What happened? Did you forget you first have to tell them what I did to you before they follow the leader to hunt me down?”

                            He cast his gaze away from you, looking at anywhere but your imperiling frame.

                                         “Aw, you’re so cute sometimes, when you’re not trying to kill me.” With a mischievous smile curving the corners of your mouth, you lean down towards him. Before your lips can land on his own, Xiao shifts his head away from you, causing your lips to land on his cheek. He nibbles at his lower lip. The loathing and resentment is too palpable on his features. It’s almost comical how transparent he is when he knows just who has the upper hand.

                                        You withdraw from him, clicking your tongue in dissatisfaction.

                From your periphery, you catch sight of Xiao’s hands clenching, nails digging into the skin of his palms. “The Adepti will surely come and capture you, and they’ll make you regret everything you’ve done.”

                                                    Your eyes close as you flash him a saccharine smile. A bubble of assertions transform into thorns in your mouth, but you bite your tongue, refraining from acting on what clearly was a provocation from the Yaksha.

                               Rather than giving in to his taunting threat, your fingers descend over his collarbone, the tips of your digits gliding across the dips and slowly raking down to his chest. You can feel his hammering heartbeat thundering against your fingers. Was it from anticipation of what is to come? Or was it fearfulness, the unknown fate waiting for him beyond once your interest wanes?

                    “What are you doing?” His tone laces with uncertainty.

                                                You give him no answer and you proceed with your performance. The tapered ends of your nails burrow themselves into the thin material of his shirt until inch by inch, two small tears appear. You coil your fingers over the tiny openings and wrench down. The sound of ripping fabric bounds against the looming walls, disturbing the evening silence and the cold, stagnant air.

                             Xiao is stiff beneath you as you continue with your service, from your unforeseen feat and to the glacial bites over his uncovered skin bore before the frigid evening wind of Liyue. His pink, adorable nipples, peeking through the tiny holes your nails made, points excitedly up the ceiling.

                  Marvel enshrouds you as you take in the delightful sight presented before your smiling eyes, your teeth grazing roughly against your lower lip. You feel your womanhood quiver in arousal. Xiao has not once locked eyes with you, adamant to avoid your gaze.

                                              “You still never told me what you feel about me.” You begin. “What does it feel to be in my mercy?”

                              Incomparable, incomprehensible – that is what you can describe the hatred that crowned Xiao’s features. Gritted teeth, scowling lips, furrowed brows, and dilated hues – perfect.

                                      He growls. “Go to hell.”

                                                             Your tongue runs over your lips, saliva accumulating in your cavern as hunger for the lone Yaksha eats you up. You could cum right there and then, coating his throbbing cock with your release.

           You have a long list of victims; some dirt poor, some whose Mora can reach the heavens, some weak or is not granted by the favor of an Archon, and some who can on an entire army with a single blade. You do not remember any of them or what their agendas are nor the emotions that last crossed their beaten figures, but the remaining Yaksha, an Adeptus, you will never tire of retiring to your quarters, positioning yourself over the comfort of your bed, and reliving this moment again and again until the very next time you meet.

                                   His slander fingers curls and comes undone, but he has not shown any signs of laying a hand on you. It must have finally come over him that right now, he has no power over anything. A wrong move of his could result to horrendous end conclusion.

                      “Been there, I’m not looking for a second visit.” You flash him a sardonic beam, and it dispersed as quickly as it formed. Your hand comes down and snatch his wrists together in its tight clutch and slammed them on the flooring, above his head. His gasp has not entirely manifested unto the tranquil wind wafting through the room when your other hand takes hold of his chin, pulling him towards you to lock eyes with him.

                                             Slowly, very slowly, in a manner that could educe displeasure to your victim, you lower yourself and capture his lips. It seemed as though the exhaustion and trepidation that had once served as his own personal encumbering chains fractures, and his body reacts swiftly.

                                    Noises of discontent, fury, and repulsion stumbles out of his mouth, and his body struggles and writhes against you. His wrists fights for liberty, and in response to his skirmish, your fingers tautens. A smirk morph on your brims as you kiss him, ignoring his protest.

                                                      Yes, more of this.

                                      “Ah – ” A sharp, stinging pain blooms on your lower lips. Swiftly, you withdraw from Xiao and your hand perches over your lip. Thick liquid in the deep color of scarlet oozes out from the small laceration Xiao has created and it trickles down to your chin. A small puddle of viscid blood on the dip of Xiao’s collarbone.

                                                  Though at a position of disadvantage, Xiao looks up towards you, a jeering mask covering his face. He did not have to say anything, his very expression told you everything he desires to relay to you.

               Your tongue runs over your lower lip, and the taste of metal unfolds in your mouth.

                                     A hum thrums in your throat. “Getting a little comfortable, are we?” Comes your sarcastic query. Xiao’s pupils dilate and fear gnaws at the depths of his chest as sparks of electricity conjures in your dominant hand, the very same that kept his hands bound over his head. “I was too. I almost forgot you’re a Yaksha in these parts.”

                                                            The pride and pleasure that encompassed your body when you witness the Vigilant Yaksha crumble before you, walls of abrasiveness and enmity fading away as your Vision glows and Electro permeates out of your fingertips through the cloud of murky darkness in the room. Fear shrouds his orbs, and his breathing turns erratic, his shoulders rising and falling. The Yaksha that had blood of many in his hands, mortals or not, bearing the title that is dreaded throughout Liyue and among the individuals who had kept their ears to the happenings on the soils of Liyue for precious insights in political and business affairs, is within the greedy hands of a Harbinger – and he is terrified, of you.

                                                      If he had only listened to you, waited for you to say you to speak, had an ounce of understanding in him, it wouldn’t have led to this atrocious end.

                                             “Please, don’t.”

                Triumph graces over your mien, a smile dusting over your lips. “Don’t?”

                                 Shadow is cast over his eyes. Shame creeps ever so slowly to him, chipping through his façade. “Don’t . . . ” Exhale. “ . . . hurt me . . . ”

                                                      At that very moment, as soon as those words left his mouth, you know you have won. You’ve forced him into a corner and unearthed a fear of lightning.

                                                “What’s the magic word, Xiao?” Your inflection is laced with mockery. “It’s not polite to ask for something and not use the appropriate language.”

                                                Xiao is quiet for the next few seconds. You don’t know if he’s weighing his chances of keeping his dignity and escape, but his throbbing girth rubs slowly against your cunt. A shudder courses through your spine.

                        Finally, he spoke, and what you heard broadens your smirk. “ . . . please . . . ”

                                Your fingers relax and the lightning they had once emitted grows weak until it has completely disappeared. “Good boy.”

                                             You roll your ass back, grazing his erection once more. Xiao sucks in a deep breath as your essence ruins his trousers, the patch of dampness on his clothing growing.

                              You place your finger on his cheek and run it down from the corner of his eye to the corner of his lip. “You’re being so good right now. Should I reward you?”

                                                                 Xiao averts his gaze from you. Words of disapproval stands behind your scowling brims. You open your lips, a puff of air entering your mouth as you prepare yourself to speak, but his fingernails scraping against the back of your hand cut you off.

          “It doesn’t matter. No matter what answer I give,” His teeth scrapes against his lower lip. “You’ll just take what you want.”

                                                     You chuckle at him, and nod. “Good, good, you’re learning.” Your free hand touches his chest and runs down on the tattered cloth and his hardened nipples. You take one between your fingers, twisting and pulling on the pink nub.

                                   Xiao growls under his breath. “Next time,” He begins. “I won’t let you fucking touch me again.”

                 Your eyebrow raise. “Is that a threat?” Your fingers twist on his sensitive nipple, causing a gasp to erupt from Xiao’s drooling mouth. “You have to think twice before crossing me, Yaksha. I want disciplined people, and if they’re not, I make them – ” He whines as you flick his nipple with his thumb. “ – and my method of discipline is nothing shy of the unconventional ways of a certain Harbinger.”

                                      If Dottore could see you right, he would have quite a delightful fit of laughter seeing you resort to his own techniques – those you have condemned before, claiming them as inhumane – of disciplining his – well, he preferred not calling them his victims – volunteers.

                          “It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” He spits out, malice tainting his tone of voice. “I’ll make sure no one ever has to go through what you’re doing to me.”

                 “All words, no actions.” Your other hand circles behind you and falls over the tent on his trousers. You fondle his cock with gentleness opposite of your demeanor, fingers skimming along his balls from time to time. Xiao’s breathing catch in his throat, hitching and unhitching as you do as you, please to his body. “I thought you were beginning to warm up to me.” Lightning festers on your hand which enveloped his restrained wrists, soft ripples of electricity surging through his body, deriding him.

                                                     The lump in his throat bobs up and down and a bead of sweat trails down the side of his face. He lifts his face up towards you, brows knitted together and with much spite in his voice, he murmurs, “Do your worst.”

                                                                              Maybe he had anticipated a rebuttal before an enaction, or maybe he had wrongly presumed that this is a mere tactic to frighten him and you would soon withdraw once you recognize your failure of imposing fear in him, which makes it all the better when you release the lightning flickering in your hand. Your Vision illuminates vibrantly, licking the walls with violet before a brief second of tranquility –

                                              A bloodcurdling scream tears through Xiao’s throat. You can feel his body writhing underneath you, the excruciating pain that had begun on his wrists travelling throughout his body. His fingers coils and nails scratch against the back of your hand. Red marks engrave on your delicate flesh, a talebearer of his woe in your hands and a perpetual memento of your victory over one of Liyue’s treasured protector, and of course, of how you had taken him against his will.

         Dilated, bloodshot eyes stares at the ceiling, mouth hanging agape as slowly, his shriek dies down – and then, silence once more.

                          A color of deathly white paints over his form, and stillness graces him. You lower yourself to his face, examining his expression. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, lying limply as his spit costively drips down from his tip to his chin.

                                          “Still have something to say?” You brush your lips against his, kissing him firmly. There’s no response. You lean back, giggling. “Nothing? How about if I do . . . ” Your fingers swathes his wrists tighter, your nails digging unto his bones. “ – this?”

                  Your hand pulls his wrists from the ground and with one swift turn of your hand, the sound of breaking joints pierces through the thick cloud of quietude surrounding Wangshu Inn. His lips part, and you wait for him to scream or string out profanities, but nothing – all that your ears can catch are soft, pitiful sounds of breathlessness.

                                Recognizing the familiar masks of submission and distress carved on Xiao’s appearance, you release your hold around his wrists, subsequently ending your display of dominance.

                        “Oh, Archons, it feels wrong seeing an Adeptus like this.” Your eyes admire the tumultuous art you have conceived. Conqueror of Demons, left hopeless, helpless, and hollow with no one to steal him from this hell.

                   The life in his eyes wavers, growing brighter and dimmer as his consciousness fought for prevalence. His fingers spasms every now and then, but it is beyond your knowledge whether it was from electrocution or from the stupefying shock of having his wrists broken and mangled.

                                          “Hm?” You place your ear next to his lips, lips pursing. “Still not saying anything? You’re such a bore.”

                                  Xiao opens his mouth as though to say something, but all you can hear from him are noises so small and almost inaudible that you thought you're just imagining them. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth.

                                                  You hear him take in a deep breath, air carrying down in his throat. You remain rigid on top of him, waiting for him to speak, to rebuke you, to call you every name in the book, but still, all he has to offer are small, inaudible whimpers. They are so incomprehensible, so muted, that you could swear you were simply imagining them for the sake of fulfilling your own deprave needs.

                                         You lean back when it becomes clear he has no answer to offer you. “Aw, Xiao, darling,” Noticing his tongue has formed a small pool of saliva under his chin, you place your index finger over the small patch and mop it off him. A sweet, duplicitous smile mars your face. “Did I hurt you a little too much?” You spare a glance towards his hands which had not moved from above his head. You take hold of his left hand and with complete disregard to the soreness of his shattered wrist, you plant a soft kiss on it. “Does that take the hurt away?”

                                     You did not expect him to answer. It isn’t surprising he would not. You have gone out of your way, through extreme lengths of defying the Tsaritsa’s order to meet him only to be welcomed with an evince of pugnacity, blade drawn and aimed at you. You’ve given everything you got to hurt him, and now, you have him right where you wanted him to be, and how you wanted him to be.

                                                           You flick his wrist away, and a miniscule mewl of pain trickles out of his damp limps, resounding against the four, towering walls of the room intermingling with the audible sound of his hand making contact on the wooden floorboards.

                                      You lift yourself off his frame and stand over him once more, the back of your hand covering your jeering brims as you evaluate his current state. “I’ll never tire seeing you like this.” You mumble to him, but you doubt he heard you. Your sights fall on his nether region, and your eyes glimmer in joviality upon seeing a rather noticeable patch of wetness tainting the front of his trousers.

        You bend down on one knee and spared a glimpse at his mien. He is still teetering in and out cognizance of reality, breathing stunted yet labored, body convulsing at indiscriminate intervals. Outstretching your arm, your hand settles on his pelvis and gradually, your touch descends lower and lower until your digits meet with the moist blotch on his lower apparel.

                                      Tap, tap, tap. Your fingers thump over his covered cock in an intermediate cadence. His thick cum that soiled his trousers pastes to your skin, a viscous string of his release attaching your fingers. You smother back a smile as you assess the white, viscous liquid smeared on your fingers.

                    “Did you cum when I electrocuted you?” You throw your head back, laughing breaking through your mouth. “Holy shit, maybe you’re not so different from me.”

                                                                                                            As you recover from your guffaw, your hands grab on his trousers and underwear and pull them to his knees. His prick rises to its height, thick ropes of cum coating the base and his bright, red tip bubbling with more precum.

                                  Your tongue crosses over your lower lip, eyelids covering your darkening irises. “So adorable, fuck.” You can feel your saliva accumulating in your mouth as you appraise his manhood. Your hand strokes his large girth once, and it reacted immediately. It twitched and throbbed earnestly at your touch, yearning for more in the way it discharged a large blob of precum once your drifting hand leaves him.

                          “Mhm,” Your eyes dilate as his whimper pushes through his sealed lips. Your neck cranes forward to study him, and sure enough, his eyes are tightly shut, and he is biting his lower lip, trying to suppress his moans.

                                                      “Ah, you’ve recovered faster this time. That’s good, that’s good.” You get on all four and crawl over him until you loom over his smaller figure. The moonlight lancing through his lodging hovers behind you, casting a greater size of shadow to encapsulate his figure. “I’ve been having a little too much fun with teasing you. I think it’s time for me to be nice for a change.”

                                          Dropping close to him, you press a firm kiss on his lips – one would think it had been one filled with passion and adoration if they hadn’t known better – before lowering yourself to his chest. Your teeth takes the neglected nipple between them, your tongue swirling around the nub and the area surrounding it. You feel a purr – or was it a growl – rumble against his chest as you play his nipple with your teeth and nipple.

                      Gradually, you draw back, tugging his hard, pinkish nipple before letting it go. “Make more noises, Xiao. I want to know how I’m making you feel right now.”

                                                               Your hands wrap around his member, and you begin to stroke him. The cum encrusting around his base and tip smudges immediately in your palms, serving as a great alternative for a lubricant.

                            Xiao inhales deeply, chest expanding before slowly releasing. From your periphery, you can see him trying to move his hands, dragging them closer and closer to his until he can lift them off the ground.

                                            “Ah, ah, ah,” Without one hand letting go of his length, you slam your free hand on top of one of his wrists. A clamor of pain spews out of his mouth, and the crease on his forehead deepens. “Don’t move. You’ll distract me from pleasuring you.”

                                         “I don’t want you to.” Xiao heaves out, sending you a heavy glower as he ignores the pain on his wrists. “Stop touching me.”

                                                          “You don’t mean that. Look at this,” The hand around his cock significantly tightens, forcing a pearl of precum to ooze out of his tip. “You want this, Xiao. Just accept it. It’ll be easier for you that way.”

                                      “No, I will never – accept this – ” Despite his own words, his hips starts to move along with your hand, fucking your closed fist as though he was plowing a cunt.

                                               “Whatever makes you feel better,” Without another word to him, you prop yourself close to his crotch. Your keen eyes watch in anticipation and admiration as his large cock throbs in your grasp.

                                                      Xiao has his head lifted off the pavement and he swallows the lump in his throat. “Stop staring at me.” He spits out.

                      “Don’t touch me, don’t look at me – why, you’re no fun at all.” You return your sights over his girth. You can feel your drool threatening to dribble out the corner of your mouth. The last thing you want is to give Xiao a chance to see you drooling over him simply because of his cock, and this, you take him in your mouth, swallowing him whole.

                                           A loud groan strings along the winds as you shove his cock inside your mouth. Xiao did not know your name, all he knew is your title, but fuck – the way he moans for you, how he tries to sound intimidating regardless of his position, it makes you want to ruin him more.

                                                                The head of his cock bumps against the entrance of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and slowly inch his length in your throat. The bittersweet taste of his thick cum explodes in your mouth. You whimper as your savor the strange flavor.

                                                        He tastes so good. So good, so good, so good – If you were not gobbling down on his length, you swear you would have been panting like a mutt. I’ll get addicted if I’m not careful.

                    Your canal closes in on his cock, causing you to choke on him. Xiao lets out a gasp of surprise, his pelvis thrusting forward and forcing his entire length inside your throat. Your hands retract from his girth and purchase themselves on his pelvis, using them as leverage as you attempt to collect yourself. But to no avail.

                              You seek to remove yourself from your position, but your mouth refused to let his cock out of your mouth. Your tongue swirls around length, running along the bulging veins and savoring his thick essence from previously and the precum ceaselessly dribbling out of his tip. Every time the tip of your tongue wraps around the red tip, yet another bead of his slickness forms.

              “So good,” Your words came out garbled, lips barely leaving his member to speak. “You taste so good, I want more.”

                                              Your head bobs up and down his cock, teeth grazing against the hard flesh. Your hollow your cheeks and clamp down on his length, before continuing to suck him off. Your hand wanders around his pelvis, leaving behind red scratch marks to remind him of this night. Your fingers entangle with his pubic hair before tracing down to where his balls are.

                                      “A-Ahh,” Xiao whines. Pitiful, very pitiful – music to your ears. “Stopstopstop – fuuuuck – ” The curse that left his lips stretched on as you knead and grope his balls. They feel full, heavy – a surprising discovery considering he had just came moments ago without your knowledge. “I don’t want to cum again – ”

          Upon hearing his words, a newfound determination sets within you. You want nothing more than to make him cum.

                                                                                 With reluctance you cannot describe, you pull yourself away from his Xiao’s length. Your tongue chases after his cock head, the string of saliva and precum dangling between the tip of your tongue and his tip. You shake your head, hoping to defuse the desire to fluttering in your mouth and wet cunny as you look at his twitching member.

                                  You spare a glance towards Xiao’s face. Deep color of crimson paints over his cheeks and nose and to your surprise, he has one of his hands over his mouth, a finger in between his lips. His lidded hues are clear with tears, the corners of his eyes stained with fresh tears. He gazes at you, distrust and hurt etched across his visage.

                                                   “Do you want to cum?” You question him, head tilting as you spoke.

                                Xiao parts his quivering lips but after waiting for several seconds, he remains silent, and he bites his finger.

               “Hey, answer when I’m speaking to you,” Your fingers snap against his cock head. A small noise of discomfort thrums from his sealed lips. “I asked, do you want to cum?”

                                                                  It takes him a brief second to formulate a simple answer – “No.” Whispers he.

            A strand of hair blocks your vision, and you brush it away haphazardly, not wanting to lose sight of the pity expressed on his face. “No?” You chime. “That’s fine. But you have to do something for me in return of my kindness.” Your hand cinches around his member and props the tip over your folds, running it up and down your clit.

                                   A puff of warm permeates from Xiao’s mouth as the foreign sensation. The life of a Yaksha revolves around the safety of the people of Liyue. His days and nights are filled with terror and monsters. A woman’s touch is rare occurrence for him.

                                                                          “Have you ever laid with a woman before, Xiao?” You query, brow raising.

                                                              “Why are you asking?” His defenses are up once again. However, they do nothing to deter you. In fact, they simply prompt you to prod more into the subject.

                                            “Because I want you to make me feel very, very good.” You lower yourself near his crotch again. You blow on his cock, and it jerked at the feeling. “I want you – ” Your tongue pokes our and with a languid movement, you leave a long strip of saliva on his length. You start from his balls, slowly making your way up to his veins base, before reaching his bulging head. Your tongue coils around his tip, drinking the precum dripping out of the small hole before withdrawing, a small pop sounding in the air as your lips release him. “ – to make me cum.”

                          Almost immediately, his opposition manifested upon his mien, prominently so. Repugnance crosses over Xiao’s features. “No.”

                  You close your eyes as a beam makes it way to your features. “It’s funny how you think you have any say on this.”

                                                                          You stroke his cock and fondle his balls several more times before pressing your hands on either side of his head, your legs locking him beneath you. His tip rubs softly against your opening, his precum sticking to your folds and He stares back at you as you reach out and swat his hand away from his face, expression hard and resolute.

                              “Not with your cock though. I don’t think you can considering how you are right now.” You utter. “We’ll make use of the pretty lips of yours.”

                                          Xiao’s lips purses. The trace of your slickness and his own spit still tainting his lips and the taste of you most definitely still lingering in his tongue.

              Your body hovers above him, and you smile down at him innocently. “You’ve done it earlier. It’s not too strange for you.”

                      With one last rub of your pussy lips on his cock, you edge closer and closer to his face, knees scraping against the flooring. You sit yourself on his shoulders, your tight cunny simply beckoning his tongue to enter you.

                                                                You see his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “You’re sick.”

                                              A chuckle. “I’m concerned you haven’t caught up with that yet.”

                                You place your nether lips just by a mere touch, deliberately ghosting over his mouth. Your head tilts to the side, your tresses shifting to the particular direction you moved.

                  “You’re free to resist me, of course.” Your hips roll over his mouth, your essence smearing against his lips. Xiao bites his lip, conflict occurring over his expression. “It’ll make things more interesting. Go on.”

                                                        Xiao’s eyelids fall over his pupils, enclosing him in a blanket of darkness. The bitter taste of your slickness trickles into his mouth and falls over his tongue, and yet he remains steadfast, seemingly unperturbed by the arousal smudging against his lips.

                                       Irritation swells in your chest, grappling tightly around your heart. “I have to hand it to, you’re tough to crack.” You remark. “But everyone has a limit. And if I’m correct, I’ve already pushed you past that.” Then, your eyes directs their sights over his broken wrists. “I doubt you still have it in you to resist. I’ve won. It’s just a waiting game at this point.”

              “Shut it.” Snaps Xiao, eyes dilating. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

                              “Look at the situation, Xiao.” You grip his head with both hands, fingernails burrowing themselves into his flesh. You angle his face to one side, and then the other. Once you assumed he had already comprehended what you’re implying, you force his face back to look at you. “You’re alone with a Harbinger, injured, without a weapon, with no one to help you.” A whisper. “Now, you don’t need me to paint the entire picture for you.”

                                                                    He returns your cold gaze with his own scalding glower. The opposition never wavered. In fact, your words have fueled him, and yet despite such outward display of loathing and resentment, reluctance blotches his resolve. He might have fooled you if he had been in a much better state, but alas, he’s at the edge, fighting for his own sanity.

                                          A purr thrums in your throat as you feel his tongue laps a single strip of saliva against your folds. Dropping your vision towards his face, you beam vibrantly as you find him staring intently at your pussy as he licks and sucks on your nether lips.

                          Finally, he breaks.

                                                 “Good boy, Yaksha. Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

                                     Your hands move over his cheeks, crossing his temples, leaving behind a cold and prickling sensation before your fingers intertwine with his locks. His thin, unruly tresses sieves through the spaces between your fingers. His locks crumples as your hands curls, nails scratching fervently against his hair.

                                                                    Xiao hums, somehow sounding delighted by your actions before he continues his ministrations. You throw your head back, mouth open in a loud, drawn-out moan as his nose nudges against your clit and the tip of his tongue traces the ring of your squelching hole.

                                Your thighs hardens around his hips and your fingernails burrows themselves on his scalp. “Oh, dear Archon, oh my fucking God,” Your rocks forward, your cunny digging deeper against his moist mouth. “Do more, Yaksha. Do more for me.”

         His tongue swirls inside you, reaching certain places that had you weak on your knees. It retracts from your pussy and swirls around your opening, poking in and out at times.

                                            As though obliging to your imploring, Xiao slithers his pink nub into your entrance, breaching past the ring and into your soft, velvet walls. His tongue swirls and licks inside you, luring out more and more of your warm essence. He pulls away for a brief second, puff of air fanning against your pussy as he attempts to catch his breath.

                                      “Tired?” Your question intends to irk him, to incite vexation in him, but much to your surprise, the response he offers you is nothing you could have foreseen.

                        “My cock,” Xiao huffs out, irises a color of dark. “T-Touch . . . ”

                                                         You lick your lips, an odd sensation of elation springing inside of you. “Touch you?” You ask. “Are you sure about that? You’re not forgetting who I am, right?” The volume of your voice significantly decreases. “You’re going to hate yourself once everything is over.”

                                     One hand of your releases his hair and stretch out behind, fingers dancing across his pelvis before grazing on his girth. You wrap your hand around his length, stroking it a few times and moving your thumb in circular motions on his head. You feel a glob of precum prods against your thumb.

                          His tongue pauses just outside your hole. His countenance, once shrouded with lust and want, morphs into deep contemplation. Conflict plays across his face.

                                                                “Touch me, please.”

                                                Your smirk flourishes. “As you wish.”

                 With his verbal consent affirmed, your hand begin to jack him off. There is no gradual acceleration to your strokes. You touch and pleasure his cock in a pace that leaves him breathless in the very beginning. More and more precum spurts out of his swollen tip and dribbles down your fist. He throbs in your grip.

                                                                              Using your other hand, you push his head forward, firmly nestling his face between your thighs. A mewl drips from Xiao’s mouth but nonetheless, his lips purchases your cunt and slobbers all over you, leaving no patch of skin dry of your juices and his spit.

                            His mouth closes and travels around your shaking thighs, rubbing himself all over your pussy. His teeth nibbles in your inner thighs, leaving marks on your delicate skin. After a while, Xiao begins to suck on your flesh, seemingly intent on giving you something to remember this encounter by. After a while, his tongue returns to your entrance, his tongue inserting in and out of you in odd intervals. Saliva, cum, and sweat covers your inner thighs but Xiao does not seem bothered by this.

                                                  Your soft walls clamp down on his tongue whenever it enters your pussy hole. Your eyes cross together as Xiao reaches a sensitive spot deep in your pussy. Veins prominent on the back of your hand and your knees buckle underneath you, threatening to give way.

                                          You whine. “I’ve never met a better boy than you.”

                                     His hips juts forward, slamming his cock into your hand. Xiao stares up at you, his tongue sliding out of your hole to lap at your slit. He doesn’t speak, and yet everything you need to know is encrypted in his eyes. Completely broken, beyond repair.

                                                    I’ve won.

                                                                                     You bite your lower lip as his chin brushes against your slit, and his nose burrows a bit near your entrance. A breathless sigh, “So, so good.”

                                The cloud of hazy desire has wholly embodied his resolve, the abstention that had shackled him turned into fragments. Nothing holds him back from partaking in his fall from grace.

                                                                        Xiao drives his cock in and out of your hand, his movement unrestrained, erratic. He throbs in your grasp and his swollen head yields more and more of his slickness, coating your entire palm with his precum. Tears crowns the corners of his eyes as he locks his gaze in your own.

                    You leer at him. “You’re going to cum, Xiao? Going to cum in a Harbinger’s hand?”

                                                      Xiao hums a moan against your pussy, his earnest endeavor of devouring you growing. He licks and sucks on your clit, drinking your juices.

                                           A broken release of air leaves your lips. You feel a coil knotting in your lower abdomen, twisting and turning as Xiao continues to delve into your pussy. You card your fingers through his locks, watching his expression contort to pleasure.

                                “I’m close too, Yaksha.” You suck in a deep breath. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

                                                                                  You grab one of Xiao’s wrists with your unoccupied hand and ignoring his mewl of objection against your folds, you bring it close to your lips and place a soft kiss. “Cum with me, Xiao.”

                                  You speed up your pace on his cock, hand in sync with Xiao’s erratic thrusts. You rock your hips against his face, burying your pussy lips on his mouth. His tongue continues to drool over your cunny, taking in your slickness with vigor. You have no knowledge if he had heard you or not, and if he had, he gives no indication.  

                 Xiao savors your juices silently, accepting everything you’re giving him after what you’ve put him through. A divine victory, you’d call it. This is the first time you’ve ever put someone in their place without drawing your own weapon, and you loved every second of it. This is a triumph that trumps over bloodshed.

                                                                  “Cumming, cumming!”

                                                    Your voice hitches in your throat as the knot in your abdomen unravels, and so does your composure. Warm ropes of spunk spews out of his cock head and unto your fist, seeping through the spaces between your fingers and some collecting around his crotch. Ecstasy crosses across Xiao’s mien and his thrust becomes more spontaneous – some short, some too quick, but all that is in his head is to fuck himself into the hole that is your hand, trying to prolong his orgasm.

                His tongue has stopped moving against your pussy and simply laid limp against your womanhood, filthy moans and mewling leaving his lips. Xiao did not sound anything like the stories told about him. He’s reduced to a common folk, a common whore who had finally accepted his fate, to be a Harbinger’s plaything.

                                                  Your orgasm soon followed after his. Your hand loops tightly around his manhood, forcing more pearls of seed from his tip. A gush of cum squirts out of your cunt and unto Xiao’s idle tongue as you loud, shameless groan of pleasure courses through your body.

                           You didn’t have to say anything. Xiao works on your cunt, lapping and drinking your release with eagerness you didn’t think you’d ever see in him. His tongue ravages every inch of your slit and entrance, leaving nothing unexplored. Your walls clasp on his pink nub whenever it penetrates your hole, trying to keep him inside of you as long as you can.

                                                                    “That’s it, Yaksha.” You roll your hips down on his face. Xiao leans his face up, deepening his reach in your hole. “God, and you said you’ve never been with a woman – ah – that’s it – ohh – ”

                                          The silence the follows after the decline of your high is deafening, piercing through your eardrums. Even the evening breeze cannot break through the thick glass of jaded serenity that wraps the two of you in their arms, offering a sense of comfort that could never bring security, at least to one of you. How unfortunate it had to be the one who had experienced a life of torment.

                        A degrading comment, an insulting statement – all existing words to emasculate the Yaksha settles in your tongue, and yet, you speak nothing. Your finger lets go of his cock, letting it fall limply on his crotch. The wrist in which lays in the grasp of your hand falls from your hold as well, a sharp smother of a choke rumbling in his throat as his broken joint meets the floor. Your lips part as you catch your breath, hips still thrusting back and forth against Xiao’s mouth.

                                                     You inhale, taking a brief moment to collect yourself, shedding the remnant of your orgasm, before lifting yourself off Xiao’s fatigued frame. Your fingers slides between your fingers and curl in your cunt. Cum and saliva gather coats your digits and you stare at them, stricken with fascination.

              Without thinking, you put your drenched fingers in your mouth, your walls closing in on them and sucking off the liquid glazing them. Bittersweet. Delicious.

                                     Removing your fingers from your mouth, you cast your sight down to the Yaksha. You step over him, putting your feet together beside him before kneeling down and taking his chin in your hand. You tilt his head towards your direction, and without any signs of protest, he allows you to.

               Broken is what you would call him. The fiery flare in his eyes had dimmed, left of him being the shell that is his body. Stained of your essence, tongue lolled out, clothes shredded, wrists broken, and cock spent, still twitching and producing small blobs of cum every now and then; he’s nothing short of what could be called a used doll.

                        “Xiao,” You firmly state his name. No response, his gaze goes on for a distance. Thus, you reiterate. “Xiao.”

                                                You don’t know how long it took for him to muster a response, a verbal and audible one at least, and all he could relay was – “I’m . . . tired.”

                                                          The corners of your lips spirals up, bringing a soft smile to your face. Xiao had never seen a smile like that before, a sad, sincere smile worn by an insincere woman.

                  “You’ve been so good today, Xiao. Don’t fret, you’ll rest soon.” You sit yourself beside him, knees tucked under as your arms circle around his vulnerable form, taking him in your chest and locking him in a tight embrace, his back to you and your hands dragging against torn fabric or exposed flesh. The darkness of your own thoughts comes racing back in your mind as the vapor of lust dwindles away, and once again, reality dawns over you.

                                         Xiao swallows, his body trembling. “Let me go . . . ”

                                 You drop your head on the crook of his neck, a stuttering breath blowing against the back of his neck. “I don’t know how it works here in Liyue, but back in my country, we don’t fuck and run. We actually quite like cuddling with our partner after sex.” One of your hands travels down his chest and in between his legs. You wrap your hand around his cum-stained cock and began stroking him again.

     In the many years you had been together with the disreputable Balladeer, your eyes had been perpetually unveiled to matters that your once simple world cannot comprehend. It is no secret to any man or woman in Teyvat that the organization which the Tsaritsa manipulates to her will, and Harbingers above all, participate in ill matters prevailing within the seven nations. It is only given anyone who braves through But among the knowledge and wisdom you’ve obtained throughout the course of your relationship with the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, a lesson that stood out the most to you is that no matter the number of sun and moon that came to pass, no matter how oppositely an individual indulges you over others, no matter special they made you out to be in their life, if they choose to keep their cards to themselves, a mere fraction of their identity is what you possess.

                                 Scaramouche, a name that strikes in fear among people regardless of the smile he welcomes them with, think very little of relationships. He spits on the very idea of love, preaching about the irrelevance of such preposterous concept when it is merely but a speck of dust in a world in which elements are imparted to mortals. He has long turned his head in abhorrence to any foolish men who offer their only daughters for him to take and marry and those women – adorned in satin fabric and glittering accessories and wore throttling perfume that contaminated his process of ponder – who dare venture to his territory and ask for his hands are taken to sea and swept along the tempestuous waters.

                                          “My life is dedicated to the Tsaritsa. I act according to her supreme command. I don’t have time nor am I interested in relationships. Do I have to repeat everything I’ve said, or do I need to make a written copy so none of you will have to ask again?” Along those lines, clearly laced in impatience and miff, are his recurring answers to any person who question him about marriage.

                    In his outspoken prejudice against love and everything that accompanies the mentioned subject, not a single person could wrap their mind around the possibility that as he travels through Teyvat, to whatever terrain the Tsaritsa places him, that someone like him will find a woman who will look pass his imperfections and faults and settle down with her.

    Alas, you step into the picture, an emerald ring around your finger glimmering under any source of light and living in the love and attention Scaramouche has to offer.

                                                   Born from an affluent bloodline and hidden away within the borders of your estate for the most of your life, you have never perceived Scaramouche as anything but a respectable man whose reputation, though tarnished from lying lips of commoners, who stands firmly on his beliefs and commits to his responsibilities. Protected from the harshness and brutality of the outside, your ears has rarely heard of the viciousness of the Fatui, much less of the all the ill endeavors that Scaramouche had accomplished in the name of the Cryo Archon. But when you are presented with the opportunity to, you are ushered away in a haste of scolding and urgent soft pushes, told by the vexed servants that the discussions of your fiancé and your parents are nothing for you to concern yourself with. And like the naïve and obedient sheltered lady that you are, you simply nod at them and allowed them to lead you away from the room.

                          What baffles you, however, are the ridiculous number of people who detest your husband. You have no need to approach them and inquire. The coldness in their eyes as he strolls in the streets or pastures of Inazuma with you, his hand interlocked with yours, is enough for you to piece things together without so much of a word. You’ve heard them huddle and whisper about his horrifying mastery of manipulation, and it stretches out to him being fiercely violent, self-seeking in every basis, and perhaps every name in the book he has been called as.

   The worst of all are how – seemingly – concerned they are for your welfare. They’ve come to a supposition that Scaramouche treats you poorly, laying his hands on you and spoiling you with expensive apparels to conceal the marring bruises he left over your flesh, seeing you as nothing but a common whore he finds pleasure from by forcing himself upon you without your consent, raising his voice at you whenever you make a simple mistake, blatantly entertaining other women in your presence, and many more unspeakable lies.

                                       Little do they know the truth of your marriage.

                          The atrocities they claim your husband does, he has never enacted them, and nor has he illustrated any desire to begin committing them. In fact, from the very moment your father has introduced him to you – seated across from you at the dining area, indigo irises staring into your eyes – Scaramouche has been nothing short of respecting, careful, charming, and kind. At the beginning, he is reclusive and spared you a few but stifling polite words, even after your father has declared that you were to be wed with him before the presence of other Inazuman officials. But it was understandable. The two of you have never met before. It would take time for the two of you to find a mutual ground and form a stable relationship upon it.

              You had previously thought that you’d be the sole person in your relationship to exert effort to make your marriage work. Scaramouche strikes you as the sort of man who will keep his hands and efforts to himself until you affirm your affection for him. But you were pleasantly surprised, just as you’ve prepared some delicacies you’ve witnessed him enjoy the first night you met and call over your servants to accompany you to his stay, when you find him at the entrance of your residence, his own gift for you within his hand.

    The first time you’ve laid your eyes on him, you were taken aback by his youthful appearance. When your dear father enlightens you about the man who has taken a deep interest in you, dismay tainted you. From your previous experiences of meeting potential partners, most of them were older than you. Some have manners and have respectable qualities, but the others had put you off with the idea of marriage for the repulsive way they’d treat you or your tending maids.

                                            The night you saw him, you thought your eyes has deceived you. A youthful man

           You recall that day as though it had only transpired mere seconds ago. His gift contained of opulent substances – jewelries originating from all the seven nations, novels of your favored genre (you’ve never told Scaramouche before, but you remembered mentioning your favorite genre once in one of your curt conversations, and frankly, you’re flattered he remembered), and other items that compared to your gift, puts you to shame.

                                                      “Oh my,” You had stammered back then, mortified by the quality and quantity of your gift as you attempt to hide it from his sights. His vision follows through with your movements as you distribute your gift behind your back. “Thank you for your kind gift, Scaramouche. I really appreciate this. But you know, you didn’t have to. Your visit is more than enough.”

                                          “Don’t say that. It’s my decision to give you one. I know I didn’t make a great impression last time I had dinner here, so I’d like to make it up to you.” Murmurs Scaramouche. You believed you hear a tinge of embarrassment lacing his voice, but his mien displays none of such emotion. “I see you’ve prepared something for me too. May I see?”

                            A part of you wishes to let out a clamor an objection and rush to find something equal to his gifts to give him, but you pondered of the rudeness it could relay to your husband-to-be, and with immense reluctance, you take your present from behind you and stretches it out to him. Your tresses billow as you bow you head and your eyelids fell over your vision as you hear his fingers delicately take the lid off the modest sized box you’ve placed the treats you’ve made in, opening it.

                  You brace yourself for an insult, or perhaps even a clear apathetic remark from him as his line-of-sight glosses over the pastries you’ve sullied your hands for. A second goes by, and then another, but nothing was said.

                                            “How did you know I liked these . . . sort of treats?”

                  You lifted your head and opened your eyes, gracing him with your sights again. Your hues shine in delight as you watch him pick up a small piece of candy from your assortment and take a thorough gander at its design, angling his head to examine it properly.

                            A smile graces over your brims. “I take notice.”

           It did not escape your keen perception that Scaramouche, since that day of your exchange, has been more present in your life, and effectively doing his husbandly duties regardless of the lack of ring among your fingers.

               As every relationship has, the two of you had gone through countless of ups and downs, disagreements, and even when through days in which none of you are willing to surrender your pride first and apologize to the other – but he has never once stopped looking after you and treating you as if you were below him in any way.

                                                        Everyone had told you how special you must be to Scaramouche if hails you in a higher pedestal than others. But you are proven wrong. From his identity as some sort of prototype of the Electro Archon to his stupefying betrayal to the Tsaritsa, doubt heavily weighs over your shoulders.

                            You don’t know the man you married, the one who kissed you under a promise of a truthful and perfect marriage.

         The man he showed you before these revelations, they’re not lies, surely?

                                      Maybe you should have taken the advice of the commoners when they told you Scaramouche is not all how he presents himself to be. He’ll always keep his cards close to him, even from his dearest wife.

                        In hindsight, you should have thought more through your decision. Visiting Scaramouche without his knowledge is a poor decision. He had warned you beforehand how the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger has been deployed to divulge his whereabouts. You know little of the man he spoke of but he tells you that he is not above using you to get what he wants. And yet there you were, encompassed in your own thoughts and emotions, standing before a seething Balladeer whose scathing glower scorches against your skin. The ambience feels heavy, and even the Fatui agents – you recalled they were called such title – stand in a line rigidly by the doorway, sights set forward but without grazing the form of your husband.

                                    Your hands wrings together in front of you as Scaramouche stands brooding by the window of his meeting room. Ever his escape from the Tsaritsa with the Gnosis of Baal herself in his possession, he has progressed from one location to another, bringing you and his subordinates along. You’d be lying if you state that you are oblivious to your husband’s terrifying thirst for power. You had seen him obsess over the Electro Archon and has paid extraordinarily honed attention whenever her supremacy over Inazuma is mentioned. His eyes grows sharper and a glint that you can only presume as greed catches your eye.

                          Once again, you have overestimated your knowledge on your own husband. You sit by the table nearest to him, making yourself at home despite the uncomfortable quietude prevailing within the room. The Fatui agents must have been wondering how exceptionally idiotic you are for provoking Scaramouche like that, even if you are his wife.

     You should’ve kept quiet, you’ve should have understood that today had been particularly unkind on him, with the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger hot on his tracks and his subordinates lacked competency to which he had to salvage before he was caught. If only you had assessed the situation prior to this, you wouldn’t on your back, pressed against his worktable, panties forcibly tugged and clinging precariously around your one of your ankles, and legs trembling as Scaramouche enters your pussy, forcing his cock into your dripping hole.

                    Your hips sway vigorously and push against his pelvis with the intention of pushing him away. However, your action only contributes to his pleasure; his quiet sigh in your ear evidence of it. Your teeth sinks unto the sleeves of your kimono – the very same kimono he had given you the day after your wedding ceremony – as his girth slots inside your hole, bottoming out. Your eyes close tightly as his hands flutters to your waist and pulls you against him, rendering you unable to move.

                “S-Scara – ”

                His name has barely slipped past your lips when he thrust forward. Your ass jiggles obscenely at his abrupt movement. A long, drawn-out moan reels out of your mouth as your husband retract from your pussy, dragging his length along your walls. You whimper when he suddenly bucks forward, stretching your opening wide open. You feel every inch of him inside you

    “Ah,” Scaramouche throws his head back as he begins to settle in a relentless pace, pumping his cock in and out of you faster by every passing second.  “It’s been so long since I’ve been inside you.”

                                        The squelching noises echoing in the room is deafening, and the moans that starting to dribble out of you intermingles with such lewd noises. Your husband digs his fingers unto your skin and without so much of disrupting his merciless fucking, he pries open your kimono with his other hand. Your bra, woven in expensive fabric, is exposed to his sights. His palm descends over one of your breasts, mauling the soft flesh.

                                “I forgot how nice these feel.” Scaramouche squeeze your nipple between his fingers. He tugs and twists at the small nub. You attempt to stifle your noises by biting your lower lip, but upon seeing your endeavor, Scaramouche clicks his tongue in dismay. “Perhaps I’ve been a little to negligent of you lately. You’ve forgotten how much I hate you being quiet when I’m fucking you – ”

                   At last, a moan finally breaks through your resolve after Scaramouche bends over your frame and pushes his hips against yours, driving the head of his cock deeper inside of you in the process. His tip brushes against your sensitive spot, causing your moan to resonate louder in the room. You feel a vivid flutter in the pit of your stomach as Scaramouche thrust in and out of you, every snap of his hips stroking your most sensitive spot.

           “So deep,” You exhale. “Too deep.”

                                                   A smirk paints over Scaramouche’s youthful countenance as he studies your flushed expression, triumph apparent on his face. “That’s the way you like it.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement – one that you cannot refute. His lips purchases over your neck. His teeth nibbles on the tender flesh, grazing over a small portion. A sharp surge of pain runs through your spine and to your injured skin as his canines puncture through your flesh. You can feel the sensation of your warm blood oozing out of you.

                                                    Scaramouche hums at the sight, his eyes half lidded as he dips his head once again to lap your blood. As he pulls away, he whispers. “You taste the same.”

  The metallic taste of your blood must have heightened his arousal for you feel him throb inside of you, his hardening cock expanding your velvety walls. “Do you like this, my love? Do you like being fucked in front of my inferiors?”

                         His words dwells in your head for an excruciatingly prolonged moment, incapable of comprehending the meaning of his statement. Horror dawns over you and the vibrant color of vermillion that paints your cheeks as it finally clicks.

                                                                    Your gaze is torn from your Scaramouche to the Fatui agents residing in the same room as you. Their stances did not alter from how you’d seen them the time you arrived in his workplace. Their heads remain steady and set forward, but their masks completely conceals every striking feature that can potentially expose their identity. You have no way of knowing if their gaze is settled upon you. But you know better. Even if they retain any respect for you as an individual or as the spouse of their superior, they cannot help it if their eyes stray to you and Scaramouche, watching as he abuses your cunt to release his frustrations and pent-up anger.

                                        Don’t look at me.

                  “No, wait – ”

            Your hands – quivering from the mortifying realization of your current predicament – move against your volition. They dart towards your husband, intent on taking hold of his shoulders and shoving him off but he caught on to you before you can initiate. His hand lets go of your breast and captures your wrists in a single, swift swipe.

                            You grunt and mewl, dilated irises looking back at the small audience and then back to your husband. “I have to cover up.” You mumble to him, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. “They can see me, Scaramouche!” Your arms strain in effort as they try to get your husband to hand you but to no avail. His merely grip tightens at your struggle.

                      “Shut up.” Scaramouche spits. He removes his other hand from your waist and wraps it around your throat stringently, impeding your breathing. Air is immediately cut off as he chokes you. You can feel his fingers drag against your delicate skin and your eyes sting in pain and lack of oxygen. “Cum sluts don’t talk. So, don’t talk.”

                                                                    Thick tears that had emerged from the corners of your eyes streams down the sides of your red tinted visage as you are helplessly fucked against the table. Each time pelvis thrust against you, your back skids against the smooth surface of the desk. A mewl laced in agony filters out of your mouth at the feeling of your flesh scraping against the table but Scaramouche ignores your sounds. Either he finds a sickening pleasure from your agony, or he simply couldn’t care less of your comfort.

                   An endless stream of moan slips past your lips as his fat cock plunges deeper and deeper in your soaping cunt. The tip of his cock roughly kisses your cervix at each thrust.

                                You haven’t seen your husband display his prowess before, but you have caught wind of how powerful he is despite his appearance. A force to be reckoned with, your parents and servants often describe him when Visions are involved within the discussion. It isn’t quite surprising that your scuffle against him is nothing but mere play to him. His grasp around your neck and wrists are vice like. The pain from his touch is agonizing, but a small part of you, embarrassingly enough, cannot help but be aroused by his power.

         How am I turned in a time like this?

                                          “Let go of me!” Your exclamation does nothing to deter Scaramouche’s resolve. In fact, your protest urges him on.

                      Scaramouche pins your hands over your head and finally, lets go of your throat. You breathe in deeply as soon as his fingers liberates your passageway, filling your lungs with the air he has denied you of.

            “Let go of you?” An amused, almost sardonic chortle pushes past his jeering lips. “I don’t think your pussy wants me to.”

   As to prove his point, the same hand which had held your neck moves in between your legs. You gasp in surprise as his digits press firmly against your clit and rubs circular motions around your sensitive area. Despite yourself, a long-winded moan permeates into the room, combining with the lecherous sounds of your sloshing essence.

                                “See? You don’t want me to let go of you. In fact, you like this, don’t you?” Scaramouche stills himself, carefully inserting his cock fully inside of you. You pussy spasms around his long length. “Being fucked on a table, in front of strangers? Even a tramp has a decency to find some place private to get her stupid cunt plugged with cocks.”

                        Tears fill your eyes as his words sink in. Degradation had not once found its way to your husband’s lips before. He has always regarded you with love and respect, and not even in your worst rows does he insult you in any way. Just who is this man you’re allowing to shove his cock inside you?

                                      A sob wracks through your perspiring and panting frame. Your lips quiver as you push through the pleasure his cock and fingers are giving you. “Why are you – ” You groan. “ – talking to me like that? I’m your wife!”              

           “Exactly.” Scaramouche huffs. He leans down and plants his lips against yours. There is no touch of delicateness in his actions, something you’re not used to, and you doubt you ever will. Thus, you move your head – or at least tried to – away from him but your motions must have encouraged Scaramouche more than the opposite for you feel him press harder against you and notice the significant change of pace in his thrusts. Once he draws away from you, with a long string of saliva connecting your drooling lips, he smiles down at you. “You’re my wife. I can do and say whatever I want to you. Whether I call you a slut or treat you like a cock sleeve, it’s up to me and you’ll like it.”

                                     A tear cascades down your face, hurt by his statement. He coos as he catches sight of the evidence of your sorrow. “Oh, don’t give me your crocodile tears. It doesn’t look good on your pretty face.” Scaramouche takes his hand away from your pussy – you struggle not to whine in protest – and drags his thumb across your cheek. The dampness on your face is successfully wiped away, but you can smell your own cum smearing against your skin. “Better stop crying or I’m going to give you something else to cry about.”

             You want yourself to calm down, to keep your tears at bay, but you aren’t quick enough. Or better yet, your husband didn’t give you an ample amount of time to compose yourself. Scaramouche clicks his tongue in disappointment. “No? Have it your way then.”

  His hand grabs a handful of your locks and pulls your head up and off the surface of the desk. You clamor in pain, but it is replaced with a shrill groan as Scaramouche pushes thrust into you sharply, the head of his girth knocking against your cervix in the process.

                            Gentleness that you have always perceived in your intimate moments together vanquished, leaving but the carnal need to get you drunk of his cock. The sight causes a painful constriction in your chest. He holds no empathy for you at the present time. You can tell by how intent he is in ruining your insides.

                      But what mortified you is how your body responded eagerly to how disgustingly he was treating you. Your nipples harden and your pussy clamps around his penis, gripping his greedily every time he pulls away.

    A smirk makes it way to his brims. “Did you just tighten around my cock?” He chuckles. Your body stiffens, horrified that he had noticed your walls contracting around his member. “Do you like being treated like this? Like a whore?” His pelvis halts from slapping against you and boisterous laughter resounds within the room. Your wet eyes turn to observe if some of the Agents had forsaken their initial stance and has shamelessly watched Scaramouche plug your cunt with his long and erect member, but Scaramouche grips your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. “If I had known sooner . . . ”

                                                                                            Scaramouche inclines his body over yours completely. His chest slots firmly over your own, compressing your lungs in the process. Your mouth opens to breathe. Scaramouche takes this chance to shove his tongue inside you once more, licking and exploring your mouth.

                   Your wrists shift under his grasp, trying to free them from his vice restrain. His tongue moves rapidly inside your mouth, leaving not even a single space uncharted of his dominance. A shudder runs down your spine as his tongue curls around your own, toying with it. You mewl against his mouth.

                                          “Ah!” Scaramouche abruptly disconnects himself from the kiss. You remain lying on the table, still taking every pleasurable thrust his cock gives and with cross eyes. “You’re so cute like this. Are you sure you didn’t come just because you missed having your pussy screwed and filled?”

                       Without waiting for your reply, Scaramouche dives to the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth graze over your skin and warm breath brushes over a small part. He’s taunting you.

               At long last, his teeth sinks in your soft flesh, puncturing small lacerations against you. The pain that follows is instantaneous. If you hadn’t been in a state of haze, you would’ve been releasing a humiliating string of whimpers and wails. The pleasure and pain overlaps one another. Liquid of the color of crimson leaks from the very flesh your husband had torn.

                                              You feel Scaramouche throb inside you. The taste of your saliva and blood mixes in his tastebuds, prompting him to edge of euphoria. His pace accelerates. You can only envision his cock being nothing but a line of blur as he fills your soaped pussy.

       You take a gander at the Fatui agents present in the room again and although you have suspected already, your eyes widen as you discover all of them observing you from their respective distance. Your line-of-sight trails down to their lower garments. The fabric of their clothing is annoyingly thick, and the folds makes it almost impossible for you to assess their current condition. The outline may be discreet, but you can tell that seeing you in your torn open kimono with their superior using you as his cock sleeve riled them up.

                                You didn’t want to feel aroused by being watched as you’re fucked but sometimes, body can win over logic. You tighten around Scaramouche’s length despite your own chastise to yourself. He lets out a broken sigh of pleasure and wastes no time lapping up your blood. The manner he licks and sucks on your skin is no different for when he has his mouth eating you out.

                                      “You know, [ Your Name ]. You can’t just come here anytime you want anymore. Not even if you’re my wife.” Whispers Scaramouche into your ear. He stills his hips for a short while, and his momentary pause felt like an eternity to you. The knot in the pit of your stomach slowly unwind.

      You whine in disapproval. With your body moving against your will, your ass pushes back against him. You close your eyes tightly and bite your lower lip as you take more of his member. A sense of triumph curtains you as you hear him choke in his own spit when your slit presses against balls. You rotate your hips, smearing them with your cum.

                      “Fuck me, [ Your Name ].” He exhales, eyes fluttering to a close. “You have no clue how dangerous it is that you even left home. Times have changed, little one. You can’t do whatever you just because you feel like it.”

               Scaramouche resumes his thrusts. Somehow, the temporary halt has been a silent way for him to recuperate. The speed in which he pumps into you is quicker, rocking your body up against the table and creating a terribly painful friction against your back. You feel his balls hitting your clit every now and then.

                      Without warning, his fingers releases your hair and your head thuds against the table. Before you can register the piercing pain that accumulated at a portion of your skull, his digits travel back to your thighs, and they stroke your clit softly. You mewl at the sudden feeling, to which he smirks at. “And yet you disobeyed my orders to stay at home. And for what exactly, huh?”

                                    His fingers work wonders on you. They rub and stroke furiously on your puffy pussy, intensifying the build-up in the pit of your stomach. A clamor tears in your throat. The overwhelming satisfaction is addicting, enough to make you cross eyed.

         “To ask me if I’m a liar?” He takes his hand away from your union and clutches a bouncing tit, squeezing it. His manhood twitches uncontrollably inside you and yet his face shows no signs of nearing release. “You risk my safe, your safety to accuse me of you. Are you dumb?”

                                                      Scaramouche pounds harder inside you, fiercer and more desperate than ever – desperate to gratify himself, to hurt you, and make you feel just about everything he desires for you to feel.

                                                Your legs tremble as a familiar coil slowly forms within your stomach. Scaramouche’s massive shaft never ceases its abuse in your hole. His ridges drags along your insides and his tip is bruises your cervix every time his hips snap forward. Ripples of pleasure courses throughout your body just as a never ceasing string of mewls and moans elicits from your drooling mouth.

                             “Scara, please . . . ” Your breathless begging births in a form of a whisper. “I-I can’t – ”

                      You didn’t think he’d listen to you. You’ve already surmised that nothing you’ll say will ever prompt him back to the husband he was to you. But you tried to hide your disappointment when he turns rigid and lets go of your wrists. You wince as he slams his hands on either side of your head.

                    “Ha?” Your heart races in fear as Scaramouche speaks. “What did you say again?”

                                              The words that you had prepared to bellow gets hitches in your throat. Fright and uncertainty encompasses your figure as you strive to find an appropriate answer to him that will not result in a harsher punishment – and you dread ever knowing what exactly harsher meant for someone like your husband. Supplying him with an answer that does not satisfy him will give him an opening to make a mockery out of you and have you screaming at the top of your lungs as he abuses your hole.

                                         Scaramouche straightens his back and cast his scorching glower over his shoulders, towards the Fatui Agents.

          “If you have something to say to me or to my wife, spit it out.”

                 His statement sends you in a frenzy of puzzlement. If Scara had just been a wee harder than he had been now – and Archon knows in what degree of delirium he would’ve brought you if so – had he abandoned all inhibitions restricting him from making you cry and plead for his cock or for his mercy, what little remains of your intellect would be down in the drain and nothing, but his name rolls out of your tongue. But you merely lie there, clothing and legs forced open, swallowing a cock whole, and with your juices dripping down your inner thighs.

                        It occurs to you only after a moment of composing yourself – the best you can at least – is that he is not regarding you when he spoke.

                    Overcome with Scaramouche’s length pulsing and twitching inside your cunt, it nearly slipped your mind that the two of you are not alone in the room, and numerous prying and privy pair of eyes are observing your public indecency.

                                                      You do not know whether the whine that you produced is from relief or protest when your husband pulls his cock out of you. Scaramouche moves away from you swiftly as he slips his wet member back in his shorts, not once taking his eyes off a particular Fatui Agent.

           Your gaping pussy is in a perfect position for them to view. Your legs spread wide open, your sore hole leaking with globs of Scaramouche’s precum and trailing down your puckered ass, clit lathered in your combined essence, cheeks flushed, labored breathing, and tongue sticking out – their heated gazes pierces through your skin. Your vagina spasms as your mind wander to what wicked fantasies are raging in their minds.

You hear footsteps walking a certain direction. The silence is heavy and suffocating - you couldn't even hear the breath of any Fatui, just your own mess of a state.

                                              Scaramouche glances at your form. For the years you had known him, you thought you can read your husband with ease. But right now, you couldn’t tell anything about him. His irises are blank, and his expression is laced with no dust of emotion.

             He takes in the mess he made out of you, and his tongue run along his lower lip. He places the tip of his forefinger over your collarbone and slowly, he bring it down to the valley of your breasts, along your one of nipple, and finally settling on your lower belly. A shiver surges down your spine at the sensation of his touch.

                          Your body moves in its own accord. Your hands, though your wrists throb in pain, shakily presses against the table to raise yourself up but Scaramouche secures his palm against your stomach, fixating you against the desk before you can evet lift a single strand of your hair from its sprawled state. The corners of his eyes has slitted, and fury graces – at least – in what was once a blank canvas of an expression.

      “Stay.” Commands he. He says nothing in addition to his simple order, but the threat behind his strict tone is enough for you to swallow your pride and resign to him.

                                                                  His footsteps is concise and rapid, and before you can understand the situation, a commotion occurs outside your line of vision. Curiosity, ever the mischievous counteragent of discipline, compels you to prop yourself on your arms and sit up on the table. Your arms move to enact your will, but your blood runs cold as sharp holler of pain reaches your ear, followed by a distinct sound of a body plummeting to the ground.

                                      No doubt it is the handiwork of your husband. The little resolve you had accumulated in that short time of peace is vanquished. You lose the feeling of control over your body, and you opt to close your eyes as to play blind of the happening just several meters from your nakedness.

                                                        “You’re the one who spoke earlier, right?” You wince as your ears picks up the sound of a kick and a tumbling body. A deep voice groans in agony. “I want to hear what you said again. Can you repeat it?”

               You wait for him to reiterate whatever he had said, but silence prevails. Apprehension eats away at the back of your head.

                              You hear shuffling, hushed mumbles, and staggering footsteps – and then, you feel a presence close to you and another at the other side of the table.

                      Regardless of the fear gripping on your heart, you flutter open your eyes. The first thing that welcomes you back to reality is the familiar, handsome of your husband. He curls a lock of your hair around his index finger. The way he coils your tresses around his finger is tantalizing. He cocks his head to one side, watching quietly as your strands unfurl from his digit. “How does it feel to stand close to my whore of a wife?” Hurt flashes across your face at his words. An ache in your heart, and a hollowness in your chest – this isn’t the man you married.

             “I don’t know, sir.”

                                                                Your whole body stiffens as you hear the voice of another man so close by, just by the opposite side of where you are forced to lie. You crane your head up, disregarding the numb pain you’re putting on the top of your skull as you do. A Fatui Agent – in all his masked glory – stands rigidly before you and Scaramouche, arms straightened at his sides and gaze forward – or so you wished to believe.

         Your heartbeat accelerates. You can almost feel it thrumming in your throat. Having people watch you be screwed is one thing but having another man so close to you in your current state is another. Shame clouds over you. A noblewoman with her tits out, soaping pussy hungry for a cock to fill it, and completely vulnerable for any man to take advantage of – just what will your father say when he sees you like this?

                               Scaramouche lets out a scoff. “I don’t believe you.” He asserts, glare sharpening. The Fatui Agent visibly swallows. “What did you say about me and my wife earlier?”

                                                                                        You ease back to your former position, pupils darting from one direction to another. You do not know the identity of the Agent behind you. Concern for his safety should be the last thing in your mind but you cannot help feeling sympathy for him. Even strangers who you had thought had been sitting at the top of power and control regards your husband in a light of respect and fear. A lower ranking underling like him would not survive a single swipe your husband will deliver.

                        A clearing of throat. “I-I don’t know anymore, sir.” An obvious lie.

      Scaramouche heaves out a sigh. His brows knits together. “You don’t know a lot of things, do you?” He kisses his teeth. “It’s a wonder how you managed to join the Fatui. The Tsaritsa must be out of her mind to consider you competent enough to deal with larger matters when you can’t even remember something you’ve said a while ago.”

                                             You feel a gentle hand of your husband trailing down the side of your face, as though admiring your beauty. You shudder at the feeling. His touch isn’t as warm as when he lies with you in the dead of night. It feels cold, almost unwelcoming, and yet it’s delicate. How very confounding.

                  “You said that I shouldn’t treat my wife like this.” Utters Scaramouche, finally. “Interesting that you think that because I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

            His motion is swift. His nails burrow deeply unto your skin as he clenches your jaw. “Look at her.” He moves your face to a direction. Your eyes locks with the masked face of the Fatui Agent. “Does she look like she hates being used this like this? She’s my wife. You don’t have a say on how I treat my wife. Whether I want her to be my own personal slut, it’s not up to you.”

                                                            Your breath catches in your throat as Scaramouche snakes his palm between your thigh and cups your heat. Immediately, your cum coats his hand. You fold your legs together impulsively, trying to keep his hand from acquiring a vaster coverage of your pussy.

                 A scoff tumbles out of his scowling lips. “Oi, cut that out.” A gasp escapes your mouth as he palms your clit in response to your rejection. Your body becomes rigid. In that short amount of time of your stillness, Scaramouche managed to find the perfect access to your pussy hole. He strokes your clit faster, broadening the mess at your nether lips. Your nipples hardens at his actions. The vanishing pulse of pleasure returns, knotting once again at your lower belly.

                                                    Satisfaction gleams in his eyes but another lies hidden behind it. Your heart leapt against your ribcage as a rush of dread strikes you. Fighting through the pain circulating around your wrists, your hands envelop one of his and your front leans forward, gradually lifting your back from the table. “Scaramouche, whatever you’re thinking, please,” You implore. “D-Don’t do it – I’m sorry – ”

                      A yelp pierces through your mouth, followed by a deep intake of air as Scaramouche slams you back against the surface. Your breasts bounce at the harsh contact and drifting through the silence of the air is an obscene sound of your pussy squirting.

          Scaramouche throws his head back as laughter rumbles through his chest and filters out of his mouth. Scarlet shadows over your cheeks as your eyes stares off to anywhere but to any pair of eyes in the room. The burning gazes from the Fatui Agents over your slovenly frame heightens. If Scaramouche had not been present in the room to deter them . . .

                                 “What a disgusting sound! I knew you’re getting off being watched like this!” He snickers out. He cast his sights back on the Agent by the table, an eyebrow raised. “Do you see him, my darling wife? He seems very, very interested into getting to know you. What better way to make acquittance than being intimate?” Yet another loud gasp tears from your throat as Scaramouche peels away from your cunt and smacks it once. A rather disturbing sound of your juices splattering against you and his hand enters your ears. “And it looks to me that you share the same sentiment.”

                                                                        A confusing feeling erupts from within you. Fear and thrill of what is to come. You have never laid with another man before, much less a stranger whose identity you do not know of. But as you continue to run over the idea, the more menacing it seems to loom over you. You are a nobleman whose parents except you to bring honor to them in any way. Letting a man who is not your husband have his way with you will not only reflect on you, but the reputation of your clan.

        Scaramouche leans down until you feel his hot breath fan over your ear. He whispers. “Relax, [ Your Name ]. I’m not going to let him fuck you. You know that I don’t settle for used women.” You didn’t know if you should take comfort from his words. “Just let me have this for now.”

                                                              He poises himself back to his original height. Your eyes dilate as he brings his slick covered hand to his mouth. His tongue slowly wraps around every inch of his fingers, tasting you in every lap of his pink muscle.

                                 Scaramouche’s indigo hair bounces as he moves his head back, humming in absolute delight. “Ahh,” He moans, tone laced in honey and ecstasy. “You taste so good, my love!” He studies the Fatui Agent near the table with an innocent smile – the kind that is so innocent that a sense of foreboding trickle from it. “I’m sure you’re just dying to have a taste of her.”

                        The Agent clears his throat with a firm cough. His jaw twitches. “You’re mistaken, sir. I don’t wish to . . . taint anything that’s precious to you.”

      “Oh, come on, don’t give me that kiss attitude. You don’t get to play Mister Respectful after what you’ve said earlier.” Abandoning his place beside you, Scaramouche rounds the desk and takes a step forward until he stands beside the Fatui.

                                                It’s outstandingly comical, the scene presented before you – a tall man breaking in sweat at the presence of a man half his height whose face is woven in youth and innocence that anyone who didn’t know better could easily be deceived. But the circumstances are dire, not only for you.

                            Scaramouche sets his left palm on the smooth surface of the table and distributes his weight on his left arm. His head tilts to the side. In a flash, Scaramouche’s hand grasps roughly a handful of his subordinate’s hair and forces the poor male to level with him until their noses brush against each other. You do not know if your eardrums deceives you, but you could’ve sword a whimper of fright washes over the Fatui Agent’s quaking lips as Scaramouche appraise him in lights of displeasure and irritation.

                              “I’m feeling quite generous today.” Scaramouche declares out of nowhere. “Why don’t you get to know my wife? It’s a privilege I don’t give to many, so be grateful.” With a harsh shove, the Agent staggers ever so slightly, trying hopelessly to regain his equilibrium that his superior has thrown off.

       With the colors he’s shamelessly flaunting before you at this moment, it didn’t take you quite a lot of time to deduce what sick scheme he has formulated in his mind. The adrenaline the pump through your veins goads your body to move even if the danger that is your husband observes you under a sharp gaze. Your legs shift and slip against the pavement and your hands desperately tries to make a purchase on any leverage as the need to engulfs your senses and rationality.

               Tantalizing indigo hues roll at your pathetic display. “Huh.” Scaramouche hums.

                                Your eyes glimmer with hope as you finally find your balance and body coordination. You sit up on the table, and just as you are about to place all your weight on your feet, a hand envelops your arm and pulls you until your back is slotted against a firm chest.

                                                   “I love how you think you can escape. You looked so cute smiling a bit there.” Scaramouche chuckles in your ear. He plants a soft kiss on your exposed neck as his hands snake to your chest, cupping your tits and squeezing them.

                            “Scaramouche, stop,” You feel dampness at the sides of your face again. “I don’t want this – don’t do this, please . . . ”

          But to you, it seems that your plea passed through one ear to the other as Scaramouche locks his arms over your waist, hands sliding lower and lower until you feel him touch your pussy.

                          A broken and strained moan breaks through your lips as his fingers slide in and out of your hole. Your fingers scratch against his clothes until they curls tightly on the cloth. Your inner thighs and bunched kimono are covered in your thick essence.

                Oh Archon, what would my parents think of me now?

                                         “So wet,” Mutters Scaramouche. “For me? And for that Agent?”

          Without waiting for your answer, you are shocked to feeling as Scaramouche’s forefinger draws a soft line on your slit. He drags it along several more times, varnishing his digit completely of your wetness. He faces the Fatui Agent with a beaming smile. “Here, go ahead and have a taste.”

                                                         You close your eyes tightly, praying to whatever Archon is willing to bestow even the smallest of mercy over you. A small part of you wants to open your eyes and see the exchange but fearful part of you wishes to remain in the darkness and the little solitude you have and wait for refusal or acceptance of the Fatui Agent to his superior’s order.

                     Perhaps it might be insensitive of you but whatever misfortune falls over him, you silently aspire for it to happen sooner. You promised yourself, even outside of your bows, that no other man shall lay a hand on you other than he who you choose to marry, and now the very man you’ve promised your life and loyalty to is offering you to another man.

                                                Disgust tugs at your heartstrings. Never in your life have you been more repulsed with yourself and with the man you loved.

                              “Oh?” You wince as boisterous laughter from your husband bounds against the walls of his workspace. It’s shrill and menacing, just like him. “You didn’t – oh, this is hilarious! You actually tried to lick my finger?”

           Momentary relief washes over you but it was brief for Scaramouche takes a second to pause, surveying his subordinates, as though waiting for some of them to speak up against him, but he is welcomed only with terse quietude. All eyes avert from the Balladeer, and the corner of his lips curved up.

                                  He appraises the Agent whose head is lowered in humiliation. The rigidness that he had once exuded has disappeared, instead replaced with total surrender.

              Scaramouche pops his finger in his mouth, licking your juices off. “That was stupid, but at least I know you have guts. Maybe you do have some qualities to become a Fatui Agent.”

                                          You crane your head to look at Scaramouche. Your heart palpitates faster when you find him staring at you, a jeering sneer painted over his visage. With one hand, he grips your throat tight. A choking sound stumbles out of your mouth as you struggle to inhale. Slowly, very slowly – one could easily be fooled into assuming he’s being delicate with you – he guides you to your feet.

       With all stimulation you’ve received, your control over your body has disoriented and combined with the constriction on your throat, you struggle to find your balance. However, all your efforts are in vain as Scaramouche releases you. Without the leverage his hold provided, your knees gave way and your whole body falls limply on the ground. You yell in pain as your knee scrapes against the pavement.

                Scaramouche claims his position in front of you and kneels. You veer your head away from him and your hands hurriedly scrunch the front of your kimono to cover your breasts. Scaramouche exhales through his nose. “Don’t piss me off.” His fingers grip one hand of your tightly and tears it away from your chest. Your breast bounces into view. He does the same procedure to your other hand until your breasts are both revealed to everyone.

                                    Scaramouche lowers his head until his nose brushes against your own. His cutting gaze scrutinizes your wide, teary eyes. And he laughs.

             “You’re so cute.”

  To your utter surprise, his lips falls upon yours, silencing any sobs you could’ve made. Comforting warmth spreads throughout your body and you find yourself reciprocating his affection. This isn’t something you anticipated, not after everything he’s done so far.

                                                    Scaramouche has always had the ability to string you back to him, no matter what.

                     He withdraws from you. “Calm down. I’m not going to let him touch you.” He consoles. You look into his eyes. You search for any hint of dishonesty or hidden cruelty beneath the eyes you’ve come to love so much. Words cannot express the relief that strikes your heart when you find none.

                                 Was it stupid for you to trust him blindly like that? Yes. But not like you have any choice.

Before you can speak, Scaramouche retreats from you, taking a couple of steps back until he's just behind the man he had been toying with. You scan the room and see the other Fatui either have their head hang low or their head shifted to the side, looking at the walls or the floor. None of them are looking at you.

                          You lips part to question his motive, but Scaramouche rises to his height and retreats from you. His ventures towards the Fatui Agent whose joints knots in apprehension as your husband approaches him. Your hands come to cover your private parts – although it was a little too late for that – as you scan the room. The other Fatui Agents had their heads hanging low or shifted to the side, looking at the walls or the floors. None of them are looking at you.

                                   “Move!”

               You turn back to your husband and the Agent he had been having a grand time toying with. Your chest tightens in fear as Scaramouche shoves the man towards you. His left foot catches on his right foot, and he loses his balance. You close your eyes and shift your body as far as you can when the Agent falls in front of you.

                                                The Balladeer gets on one knee next to him, flicks his hood off and grips his curls. “Watch closely, okay?”

                 The Agent simply nods in submission.

          Scaramouche turns to you. “Open your legs.”

                          Your eyes widen. “What? No – ”

                                    “I didn’t ask.” Your blood runs cold at the tone of his voice. “I said open your legs.”

      Without another word, you lift your kimono skirt and slowly open your legs. Redness takes over your cheeks as you hear the audible squelch as your opening spread.

                        “You see that?” Scaramouche glances at the Agent. “Do you like that? Do you want to put your cock inside her?”

                                                  The Agent is visibly frozen on his spot. Even with his mask, you can see feel his heated stare on you. A noticeable bugle tents the fabric of his lower garment.

              Despite yourself, a shot of arousal courses through your system. Your mind swirls with ideas that should’ve made you sick but didn’t. Something about the thought of taking another man with your husband watching tightens the coil at your abdomen.

      You want to avert your eyes from the erection of the Agent possess but you cannot find it in yourself to move. You gulp.

                      Having a stranger’s cock enter you, forcing your hole to accommodate his girth and pleasure him as your husband watches nearby, the other nameless Fatui Agent unable to do anything but spare glances your way, smothering back their own arousal as their fellow fucks their superior’s wife – Scaramouche speaks.

                                            “Wider.”

                        You do as told without hesitation. Using his other hand, Scaramouche places two fingers over your pussy lips. You bite your lower lip as he strokes your clit. With his index and middle finger, he pries them, revealing more of your drenched hole to everyone in the room.

    “Ahh,” Your shoulders tense when a finger penetrates your pussy. Your toes curl as he thrust in and out experimentally, as if assessing your cunt.

                                                            “Nice and wet, just for you.” Scaramouche takes his finger out of you and toys with your stickiness. “Isn’t my wife just so darling? Even to man she doesn’t know, she prepares herself for. Makes me wonder how many times she's been aroused by having other men around her when we're having dinner outside.”

                          The Agent’s head bobs as Scaramouche lets go of his hair. Your husband stands up as he sticks his finger in his mouth, sucking your cum off. “Well?” Scaramouche chimes, smiling down at the two of you. “What are you waiting for?”

           You thought your neck would snap as you turn to face the Agent. You do not know what is happening behind his mask nor the person behind it. But you do know that though his fear prevails, he cannot ignore twitching and growing bulge in his pants.

                                             Controlled by his fear for the Balladeer and the throb between his legs, the Agent – with quivering hands – shakily undoes his belt and pulls his pants down to his thighs. Your pussy pulses at the sight of a large cock springing eagerly at your face. Veins ran along the base of his massive girth with precum drooling down its sides from its blood engorged tip.

                                    It’s big – You thought – But not as big as Scaramouche.

               His Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he does a once over at your form – sitting prettily below him, nipples hard, and legs spread wide open with a wet pussy begging to be fucked. You must have been quite a sight to look at upon hearing the Agent heave a sigh shuddering sigh.

         He wraps his hand around his member and strokes himself a few times. A thick, pearl of precum forms at his head. His palm gather his slickness and lathers it all over his entire length.

                                      You stare intently at his manhood. The way the Agent pumps himself in front of you is so thrilling that you almost forgot your husband is present in the room, and so are the other Fatui Agents.

                                 Your tongue wiggles inside your mouth, wanting nothing more than to lick the Agent silly.  

         Horror dawns over you almost immediately when you process your own thoughts. This isn’t like you. Turned on from another man’s cock – Archon knows what Scaramouche would do if he discovered you liking this.

                                   You take a gander at your husband, pleading for him to stop.

                            “Don’t . . . ” You whisper. “Please, stop this.”

                                                        Scaramouche exhales sharply through this nose. A smirk dances over his lips. “But you’re liking this!” He declares. “Why would I want to stop?”

             Your attention reverts back to the Fatui Agent when you hear his footfalls grow louder. He stands before you with his hard cock in his hand, still pumping and producing precum. It stands proudly close to your face that you can smell the disgusting odor of his manhood.

                  “Don’t drool to much, [ Your Name ].” You hear your husband say.

                      You hear the Agent gulp. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

             A puzzling mix of terror and desire develop within you as the Agent murmurs his apology and at the same time, he gets on his knees and aligns his cock at your entrance. Your hands move to push away but the icy glare Scaramouche sends you forces you to stop.

                                     The only thing you can do is beg. A sob wracks through your body. “Don’t do it.”

                                                    You shut your eyes tightly and wait for the inevitable feeling of the head of his member prod against your nether but not such a thing happens. A scream of hurt and fear and a body falling on the floor prompts you to open your eyes.

                            The first thing that you is your husband stand before you, his back facing you. Your line-of-sight trails down and you see the Fatui Agent sprawled on the floor, his mask discarded somewhere under the table and his hands clutching a part of his face. His prick has fallen limp on his pelvis. The lust he had felt dissipates as your husband towers over him.

                 “Ah, it appalls me just how far your stupidity can go.”

                      Scaramouche circles around the Agent, and finally you see his expression. A smile – no.

         What you see playing over Scaramouche’s face is the furthest thing from a smile. It resembles one, but the darkness and foreboding threat behind it cannot entail to a smile.

                                    Your nails dig into your palms as you watch your husband from your respective distance. Never have you seen him so intimidating, so frightening. Seeing him like this, you didn’t think you’d like. The heat in your stomach is so intense. You rubs your thighs together as you continue watching him.

                                                                              You didn’t flinch when Scaramouche presses his foot against the Agent’s abdomen. “What made you think you can fuck my wife?” His question is simple and yet hold so much authority in his inflection.

                                                    “But you said – ”

      Scaramouche presses more on his abdomen, successfully eliciting a whimper from the lower rank. “Think about it, you idiot. You’ve worked under me for so long and you can’t tell if I’ll really allow you to fuck my wife?” The atmosphere and temperature, dreadful it had already been, drops to the point where everyone but you fears for their lives. His gaze lands on his cock, and laughter bubbles out of his mouth. “Take a good look at your cock. Do you think that can pleasure her?” He throws his head back, still laughing. “I doubt she’ll even feel a thing when you put it in her.”

                               The Agent heeds no mind to the mortifying degradation his superior said to him and attempts to compose himself. Or at least the best he can manage when a foot is still pinning him down on the ground.

                                                                  “Please, sir, forgive me.”

Your eyes widen as you see sparks of electricity emit on his other hand.

                                            Light sparks throughout the room as electricity emits from Scaramouche’s hand. You can feel your heartbeat thundering against your eardrums as Scaramouche flexes his hand.

                                             Quickly, you rise to your feet, ignoring how you stumble as you did. “Scaramouche, don’t – ”

             Scaramouche ignores you once more. He narrows his eyes at the Fatui Agent, the smile dropping from his face. “If you survive, I’ll consider it.”

                 It all happened too fast. Scaramouche grabbing the Agent by his face, the blinding flash of lightning, the blood curling scream tearing through the silence, the scream of horror that leaves your lips – deafening silence, and then promptly followed by thud of a lifeless body.

           You couldn’t move from your place on the ground. Your eyes remain rooted on the Agent’s corpse.

                                  Scaramouche flutters his hand, mimicking a motion of a nobleman ridding himself off the dirt that got on his hand. “Take this thing out and get out of here.”

                                    The Fatui Agents has not yet even taken a step forward to enact his order when your husband suddenly takes a lock of your hair in his hold. You turn to look at him only to be greeted by his massive member slapping against your face, smearing your cheek with precum.

                  “Now,” Scaramouche licks his lips, eyes glinting with lust. “Suck.”

  You didn’t have to be asked twice. Your mouth takes him whole quickly, slurping sloppily at his cock. His hand runs through your hair and his head moves back. He pushes your head forward, forcing you to take him in deeper. The sound of your choking fills the room. Not even the heavy footsteps of the Fatui Agents as they drag away their colleague from the room can compete with the obscene sounds you’re making.

                        “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” He releases your hair and strokes your hair once again. You look up at your husband. This isn’t the first time you’ve sucked off your husband. You’ve lost count of the times he’s requested you to suck him when he’s stressed over matters, he never tells you of. But even so, you never get tired of seeing him like this – flushed face, burrowed eyebrows, and completely at your mercy.

      You pull away from his cock and run your tongue over the ridges. You leave long strips of saliva on the base and proceed to give kitty licks and the occasional sharp suck on the head of his cock. You rub your thighs together, trying to alleviate your lust.

                                                  You didn’t hear the door close, but you knew it did when Scaramouche pulls your mouth from his cock and forces you to your feet.

                    You haven’t even fully recovered from the haze of lust from sucking, but already has you against the wall. With one hand clutching your jaw, he uses the other to lift your kimono, showing your pussy to him.

            “Scaramouche – wait – fuck!”

                                                                          He didn’t have the time to listen to you. He pushes the head of his cock pass your pussy lips, and with one single thrust, he’s bottomed out inside of you again.  

                            Scaramouche pounds into you hard. He hasn’t let you adjust to his intrusion, leaving you mewling and dragging your nails on his back. The sound of his hips smacking against yours has once again filled the room, much like earlier. The only difference is that this time there’s no foreign eyes watching the two of you.

                  A series of moans escapes your mouth as your pussy flutters and grips your husband’s cock. Your precum is scattering all over your thighs at his every thrust. Scaramouche bites and sucks at your skin, marring your flesh with his possessive marks. He had always been this way. Leaving love bites on any place he can to show his possession over you.

            “You should’ve seen the look on your face when that guy showed his cock to you.” You wail pitifully as Scaramouche takes your breasts in his hands. Without faltering in his pace, he fondles and mauls with your hardened and sensitive nubs. His combined ministrations causes your eyes to roll back and your tongue to slip out of your mouth.

                      He inhales sharply. He gazes deeply in your eyes. “You wanted him inside of you.”

     “No – ”

                                            One of his hands releases your tit and comes down to slap your ass. You howl in pleasure and shock.

                                                        “Don’t even lie. I know what I saw.” He presses his heaving chest against yours. Your breasts squish against him. “Why do you think I killed him?”

                              You gasp, but you didn’t know whether it’s from the shock of his confession or the harsh slamming of his hips against yours. “You killed him because – ”

                   “ – because I was jealous, that’s right.” He breathes out, half lidded eyes gazing heatedly at you. “You don’t want to know what else I’ll do when you make me jealous.”

                                        You feel his member throb inside you. You moan, and you begin to meet his movement, moving your hips up and down as much as you can in your current position.

              “Scaramouche,” You moan his name. You keep getting pushed to the edge of euphoria.  

         “Shit, you’re gripping me so tight.” Scaramouche takes your ass in his hands and bounces you on his cock along the rhythm of his thrusts. “Are you going to cum?”

            Your capability to speak is stolen from you – all too drunk on the way his cock keeps brushing on a spongy spot in your pussy – so your head can only nod in answer.

                  “Cum with me then, [ Your Name ]. Show me how good I’m making you feel!”

                                                               The coil in your abdomen unravels, and so do you. Your release rocks your whole body. Your body arch against Scaramouche and your hips ride him faster, prolonging your release. Scaramouche splutters in shock, his hands digging into your ass as he follows. You swear he’ll leave bruises on your flesh the next day. Strings of his thick load shoots inside your pussy one after another, slowly filling you to the brim until warmth spread across your abdomen.

                                       He moans in your ear. You shudder when his hot breath fans your neck. His voice is deep. You can never get used to him moaning like that so close to you.

                            “Take it all in, baby. Take my cum, take it.” Scaramouche whispers in your ear. You whine as he release deep inside you. His head falls on your shoulder as he fills you up. He pumps his deflating cock in and out of you, making sure none of his cum goes to waste. All your cunt can do is greedily milk all his cum, as it was always used to doing.

             You can feel your legs tremble every now and then as globs of his load drool out from your union, snaking down your inner thigh and plopping noisily against the ground.

    Ripples of pleasure from your release slowly exits your body, and the unbearable weight of fatigue dawns over you. Your legs straighten and your arms coils around your husband’s neck. You rest your head over the crook of his neck and slump your entire weight against him.

             Scaramouche wraps his arms around you. A hum thrums in his throat. “Tired?”

                                           You nod once. “Tired.”

            A licentious cry of delectation redound against the towering barriers of your quarters. The evening has dawned upon the land of Mondstadt, and the black skies has dimmed the expanse of buildings. Nothing but the scant moonlight and the flickering flame swaying in the wick of a candle provides what little light they can permeate through your windows.

                        Your form reclines against contentedly against a chair, legs spread wide open and hands perching upon the upholstered arms.

      You sigh in revelry as your body rocks against the rough cloth of your chair, unperturbed by the moaning, sniffling, and whining of your lover as he sits over your left thigh, rubbing himself to ecstasy.

                  Your vision remains in a blank slate of black, your eyelids impeding your sight. A part of you is tempted to open them and admire the work of art that is the renowned Bard of Mondstadt making a mess of himself on your thigh. But you refrain from such beckoning of fate.

      You know that is exactly what Venti desires for you - your undivided attention, your lustful orbs roaming every inch of his nude body, worshipping his wanton display.

                                 He breathes out your name in a moan, and the wetness pooling between your legs grows.

            Truth to be told, you want nothing more than to give in to his yearning, to feed him what he is clearly asking from you. But alas, the earlier occurrence he had been the cause of remains replaying in the back of your head, and your crumbling resolve hardens.

           You heed no mind to his incessant thrust against your thigh, mien placid, not even a touch of emotion plastering over. Venti must have noted your unchanging behavior towards his antics for you feel his quivering fingers burrow deeper against the flesh of your shoulders as he drives his shaft and balls faster against your leg.

                             “Hgn,” The mewl that drips from Venti causes a tremble to surge down your back. You swallow. An image of what he looked like right now arises in your mind - his cheeks an elaborate color of scarlet, thick beads of his tears streaming at the side of his flushed face, his eyes - lustrous in tears - crosses as he prompts himself to the edge if euphoria. “Mommy, please. Look at me. I need you to look at me - ah, fuckfuckfuckfuck – ” You battle against yourself as you feel his hips falter in its pace. “I-I-I can't - I can't - can't hold it any longer – ”

                                  Alarm sets off inside your head. What?

                  “I need to cum, I need to cum, please, let me cum, M-Mommy – ”

           Whether his words holds a semblance of sincerity, or it is simply to evoke the urgent need for you to cast your gaze on his needy body, your spirits simply cannot allow Venti's plea. You open your eyes, and a heavenly sight welcomes you. Seated over your thigh, arms extending forward and clutching your shoulders, is the very same Venti you have pictured in your head. But even your imagination cannot hold a candle to reality.

                     His soft yet incessant thrusts against the surface of your leg, the almost prominent hearts projecting in his pupils - fuck, you could've cum right there and then if it had been possible.

                               His words and voice, latched in desperation, sinks in your mind, and a displeased scoff emits out of your scowling mouth. “Already?” You scoff. “We’ve barely started, and you’re already close to cumming. How pathetic.”

          Venti parts his mouth to provide an answer, but his own body betrays renders himself incapable of conjuring anything other than pleasured moans, thus, he opts to merely nod, hoping it would suffice for his shortcoming.

            Your right arm, which had previously settled upon the armrest of your cushioned chair, rises and your fingers cinches around one of his braids. Stunned by your abrupt actions, Venti cries out, eyes snapping close as the sharp sting on his skull numbs at your pause.

          “I don’t care if you want to cum or not.” Your words drip in enmity. Venti can only whimper at your hostility as he peers at you through his lashes. “You’re going to cum when I tell you to.”

             Your fingers scratch against the cloth of your chair, and the ones grappling his braid digs into his thin strands. Your eyes steer below until your line-of-sight lands on his lower half which has yet to halt its movement against you. His hips are devoid of any covering, baring himself in your merciless hands, tempting you to place your hands over them and guide him in his grinding. Even if it is unintentional in his part, even if his bareness has been your fault with your ravenous longing to see all of him, you can only think that this is another ploy of his for you to touch him.

                          Your eyes rakes over his figure, unashamed and rather incited to for Venti moans out your name, all too delighted with your attention on him after being deprived of it for Archon knows what. He is exposed before you - not for the world, not for anyone else - only for you. Your eyes only being the sole spectator of his nudity and sensual unfolding.

           To have an Archon under your mercy. What an honor, an honor that you'll abuse over and over again.

             Your carnal needs ravage against your patience. The urge to knock him down and shove a toy up his ass is strong, but you couldn't concede to your desires now, not after the amount of time and self-restraint you've spent earlier.

                 “Don’t stop until I tell you to.” You bite your lower lip, teeth threatening to leave a puncture over the soft flesh. “If you cum now, you won't be cumming for a whole month. I swear in the name of Barbatos.”

                                    Venti lets out a feeble whine at your threat. Many times have you said such things to Venti, and not once did you fail to see through them. He erratically moves his pelvis back and forth against your leg, grunting each time he pushes forward.

           His hard, tiny, red tipped cock swings with his oscillating movements, tipping forward and then brushing against his belly. You hungrily eye his stupid and fucked out state, from his expression to his shaft.

                                 His garment lies in a heap at an uncharted portion of your lodging, his thigh high socks being the sole exception.

             You feel Venti’s writhing fingers on your shoulders. The tension he sets on your body unwinds the last knot of restraint you had - your hands strokes his thighs delicately and gave them a firm squeeze.

                He quivers under your touch. “More, touch . . . ” Venti sighs out. “ . . . touch me more . . . ” He rubs his dick on your left thigh faster than before. A pearl of precum droops from the head of his manhood, and almost immediately another quickly follows, spewing one after the other.

                                          His fingernails burrow against the flesh of your shoulders, carving crescents on your back. Precum spurts out of his cock in endless globs, spilling down the base, traveling to his tight balls, and then down to your thigh, tainting your lower vestment.

        You click your tongue, growling at the viscous mess his slickness has made. A hand of yours withdraws from his clothed thigh and lands a hit on his ass. The sound of skin meeting skin resounds within the room.

    Venti yelps in shock and pain as his ass cheek numbs. In the process, his hips loses their rhythm, and he wavers in his position. A pathetic whimper slips out of his mouth and his thighs tightens around your leg, his cum accumulating in the spaces between his thighs and your left leg.

                      “Oh my, look at the mess you’ve made out of yourself.” You chuckle. “Getting excited in his punishment? Are you having fun, baby?” Your free hand reaches to cinch around one of his braids and tug at it, earning you a beautiful clamor from the Bard. “What would the people of Mondstadt think when they learn their beloved Anemo Archon is too busy being a whore for a lovely maiden than keeping their nation safe and protected?” You yank his braid once again, but harder. He whines. “Too busy rubbing his teeny tiny cock against my thigh? Getting off at being humiliated and swore at? Getting me dirty with his disgusting cum.”

                                  An inaudible gasp, dilated eyes - your degrading remark must have done a number on his battered ego for a sob wrack through his body, startling you.

                          “I-I'm not a whore – ” Venti bellows, throat contracting. “ - not dirty, too – ”

                                         Oh?

                His pretty little cock wiggles and twitches as he clumsily makes a fruitless endeavor to regain his momentum. However, all he can manage to do is rock his hips in a manner so soft and weak that you doubt he is receiving the stimulation he gravely crave.

                          “ – fuck – ”

                      Your hand flies down to slap against his ass once more, leaving an angry imprint of your palm over his butt cheek.

                                    Venti mewls at the sensation as he throws his head back. You crane your head to inspect the harm you've done against his pale skin, but the begging the Anemo Archon spouts tears your attention away from your original intention.

              “D-Don’t do that, Mommy!” He implores, panting. His chest is heaving, and his cheeks is no longer the adorable pink tint from earlier. It is much deeper, and clearer color of red. “I've been nothing but a good boy to you!”

                             “You know I never punish you unless you've done something wrong.” You purr. “Do you want me to list them out?”

             Venti supplies no answer. Instead, he averts his gaze and purses his lips.

                  “You know I don’t like it when you don’t answer me, baby.” A hum. “I know you still remember what you did back in Diluc's bar?”

                              Silence greets you. You smirk at his unresponsiveness.

           “I know you haven't. I'm sure you still remember flirting with that girl while I was talking to Diluc.”

                          Venti erupts. “But I was jealous!” He protests. His lips quiver, and a fresh sheen of tears covers his hues. “You were telling me to go away because you were busy, and you were giving Diluc all your attention! I didn't like that!”

                 Your other hand grips his thigh tighter. Venti clams up at the feeling. “So, you decided to make me jealous because I wasn't giving you attention? Haven't you gone for a whole hour without talking to me before?”

                         Venti keeps his gaze away from you. You click your tongue. “Hey, answer me.” You take hold of his jaw and forced his watery eyes on you. Simply adorable, Venti is, in such a state. You'll never tire of seeing this side of Barbatos. “Are you that needy that you can't behave for one hour if I don't give you my undivided attention – ”

               An aggravated noise of dissatisfaction burst from his lips, taking you by surprise. “Diluc isn't your boyfriend! I-I am! I should be the one you're talking to! I should be the one you’re paying attention to!” Exclaims Venti. His brows furrow together in frustration, and the evidence of insecurity that shone through his eyes causes a tremor of guilt to course through your heart.

                            Venti has given you his consent to as you please to him, be gentle or rough, kind or unkind - as long as he hasn't voiced your agreed safe word, anything is allowed inside your bedroom. He had presented a perfectly good opportunity for you to punish him, and in better circumstances, you would've jumped on the opportunity to play with his body and break his spirits, but the shakiness of his voice, the self-doubt he exudes as he tries to please you by continually rubbing his balls against your thigh and withholding his urge to cum, you choose to set aside his disobedience for now.

            With one hand holding his right thigh and the other coming up to stroke his hair, you coo at him. “Oh, my sweet baby, my sweet, sweet boy,” You clasp your hand behind his head, ever so gently, and pull him close to you. Your lips slots over his own. Quickly, Venti reciprocates your affection, slanting his head to deepen and prolong your kiss.

             With your fingers weaved through his strands, you push him closer to you. Your ears picked up the sound of his soft moaning, and you swear you hear him whisper your name.

                      You pull away from him, huffing. Venti follows after you, whining at the loss of contact.

    “Little boy, you know I have my eyes on you, and only you.” You assure him. “No man can steal me away from you, no matter how much they try to swoon me.”

                   Venti sniffles, his hand drawing away from your shoulder to wipe the tear from the corner of his eye. “Promise, Mommy? You're only mine?”

                           Your heart swells in adoration and understanding. You've known of his insecurities born out of his tragic past. His fear of abandonment, of loss. You do not possess any supernatural prowess to turn back time and morph reality to his favor (though if you did, you will without a doubt). Even in this way, you can reassure him that nothing and no one can tear you away from him.

        You smile at him, eyes soft. “Only yours.”

              Your fingers journey to his back, tracing his spine. Venti shivers at your touch, eyes closing in the sensation. He gasps once your hands cup his ass, squeezing and lightly slapping them to your pleasure. “But,” You begin, an eyebrow lifting. “This doesn’t excuse your two other misdemeanors.”

                             Reluctance flashes across Venti's visage. “I haven't done anything else wrong.” He mumbles. “W-What did I do?”

    Your palms smooth over his curve of his ass, soothing the numbing pain you've inflicted on him earlier. Your head inches closer and closer to his face, until your mouth grazes against his ear. You leave a strip of saliva against his ear - a shudder - before whispering in his ear. “I believe you said earlier you aren't dirty, and you aren't a whore.” You see his Adam's apple bob up and down, bringing a smirk to your lips. “Did I hear wrong?”

                     Stammering comes spewing out if Venti's lips once your questions settles in his mind, his forehead creased and eyes squinted as he - in your perspective - hopelessly try to persuade you that he, indeed, said no such thing.

             “I-I-I really don't – ” He splutters, flustered. " – I don't remember – ”

                        “You don’t remember?” You muse. “So, that means I’m a liar now.”

       Venti shakes his head. “No – ”

              “Well, one of us has to be lying." You remark. "You said I'm not a liar, so that only leaves you, right?”

                     Venti gazes back at you, unwilling to confess. Your right hand raises in the air and comes down on Venti. He squeaks at the painful sensation, his grip on your shoulders growing significantly harder.

       You hear him whisper something your ears did not quite catch, and thus, you preen in curiosity.

                            You lean forward, ear pointed towards him. “Pardon? I didn't hear what you said. Care to repeat it?”

         Alas, quietude welcomes you. “Hmm, not speaking?” You raise your hand in the air with no actual intention of bringing down to his ass. His earlier display of insecurity softened your heart, even for just a short while, and so you will refrain from subjecting him to any further physical punishment.

              You see Venti's eyes dilate at the sight of your palm. Promptly, he carries on rubbing his balls against your thigh, getting faster by every passing second.

                    “I-I'm not – ah – ” His grips tightens on your shoulders. His mien scrunches in effort, breathing labored and sweat dotting his skin. “ - mhm - am not a whore - oh fuck, fuck, fuck – ” His breathing hitches. “ – not dirty – ”

              His girth twitches more than before, and his precum oozes more and more, popping at his tip and dripping on his base.

                           Venti looks up at you, an expression so desperate and pitiful that you almost felt sorry for him and consent to his plea. Almost.

                 “Please, please,” A broken moan exudes from his mouth. His feet makes contact on the frigid floor for a moment. He adjust his stance on your leg, leaning forward and dragging his penis further on your thigh as he did so. You suck in a deep breath as his chest closes in on your face, his pretty pink nipples erect before you. They are practically inviting you to play with them, suck on them, pull at them.

                   Innocent may his actions be, you can only think that he is tempting you, knowing all too well that you'll give in to him so long he play his cards well.

                     The heat between your thighs grows as your tongue runs over your lips, your eyes gazing intently at Venti's pretty nipples.

   You can feel his stop breathing as your mouth draws near to one of his nubs. Your senses is dampened, overwhelmed by your own arousal. But just as tongue peeks out of your cavern to leave a strip of saliva over his nipple, you are drawn out of your trance as Venti comes to a slow stop. His legs stills, and his cock eagerly spasm.

                              A scowl form once against on your face. “What did I tell you?” You growled. “You don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Venti sucks in air at your question. He shakes his head, braids moving in his motions. “[ Your Name ], w-wait,” He implores. “I-I was getting tired! I need a break! Just for a minute, please – ”

                 You pause, frowning. “What did you call me?”

              It takes Venti a moment to realize his error. Horror makes way to his visage. “I-I mean Mommy! I meant to say Mommy!”

    You didn't bother lending your ears to him. Your hands detach from the globes of his ass and placed them on his waist. An objection, you are certain, is ready to fire from his mouth, thus, you act quickly. His words are loss in his whimpers and soft cries as your hands guide his hips against the surface of your thigh, forcing him back and forth until he was spewing your name like a mantra.

                  Venti gasp and mewl as the pleasure heightens at your ministrations.

  “Wait! Mommy!” Venti whines. One of his hands descends to take hold of your wrist, grappling it tightly as an attempt to stop you. “Stop – ”

                    Once again, you pay no mind to his begging. In contrast to what he asked for, you quickened your pace. Your hands buck his hips faster, adding more pressure against his balls by rubbing your leg between his thighs. His legs crushes your thighs, and his hands pawed helplessly at your chest, trying to force you to stop.

         You start to rub your leg up his slit, worsening your ministrations and pushing him to ecstasy.

                You flick his hand away from your wrist. “Don’t touch me.” You raise your leg up to between his thighs and rub a slow circle under his balls. Slow at first, but pace increasing until Venti's balls turn pink from the consistent scraping.

                                         Venti can no longer hold himself upright. He collapses against your chest, head tucking on the crook of your neck. “Why do you always become dumb when I'm doing this to you?”

         Venti chokes and shivers. “I'm going to - I'm going to cum – ”

            Venti's eyes flutter to a close as his body quivers and nears his climax. Your hand swiftly sweeps down to wrap your fingers around his spurting manhood, your thumb pressing against his head.

    Alas, you had been a second too late. The head of his cock, blood engorged, explodes with his cum. His essence dribbles pass your thumb and streams to the base, creaming every inch of his length.

                Anger at his disobedience and lack of self-control thrums within your veins but you suppress it in favor of helping Venti through his release. He sobs against your shoulder as your fingers grip and stroke his shaft, your thumb rubbing circular motions against his sensitive tip.

                When you feel him soften in your grasp, you release his shaft. Venti crumbles, chest falling on you and his chin resting over your shoulder.

             His hot and ragged breath fans over your neck. Goosebumps races on your arms.

                        The silence within the four walls is stifling and perhaps a wee bit unpleasant. Venti knows what he had done and is merely refusing to acknowledge his actions in the slight hope you will brush it off as you did with his behavior earlier. You do not.

                  “You came.” You state.

                                    His form stiffens at your statement. “I'm sorry.”

                          You drone. “Is that all you’re going to say today? Sorry?” You click your tongue. “Sorry isn't going to cut it this time.”

             The chair creaks from the alteration of the weight it carries as you arise from your chair. Not anticipating your movement, Venti slides off your thigh and plummets to the ground, his reddening ass scraping against the flooring. Venti whines as his limp penis flops against his balls, tired from it release.

              You've barely made an inch of a difference from your position when a weak yank at your ensemble catches your attention. Your neck cranes to Venti's direction, but before your sight can fall on him, you poise yourself and breathe in.

                            “Let me go,” You order, voice devoid of any emotion. Although this is merely nothing but play behind closed doors, you cannot help but feel as though you have crossed an unspoken line and have laid hurt upon Venti in a way that is unacceptable. Your body yearns to kneel before him and console his battered form, but all doubts of your previous actions being too much harsh is erased from your mind as your sight lands on your lover as he clumsily gets on all four with one hand holding your clothing, looking up at you with teary eyes.

                    “I-I'll do better, I promise! I-I'm sorry!” Venti whimpers out. His hand withdraws from you and reaches down to his manhood but before he can touch the slowly growing erection, he breathes out and instead drags him closer to you.

         Your breathing momentarily falters as Venti perches himself over your shoe and begins rubbing his girth and balls against your footwear. He exhales as the uncomfortable pressure on his member eases away as he bucks against your shoe.

            A part of you wants to chastise him for this morbid act, but the pitiful and depraved expression adorning his mien sets fire in the pit of your stomach. And thus, rendering you stunned and eagerly awaiting his following action.

                         Venti accelerates his thrusts, whimpering as the friction against his balls and cock and the stimulation he bestows upon himself intermingles. With one hand holding on to your clothes, he rolls one of his nipples with his free hand, pulling and pinching the pink nub.

    He presses his face against his dampness that has stained your clothes. His tongue pokes out to slather his saliva on the small patch his cum has made on you. All the while, his hips never stops moving.

                      You feel his pink bud gently cross over the damp spot, eagerly lapping up his own release.

                  “Mommy, I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to cum . . . didn’t mean to call you by your name . . . ” Venti implores. He locks eyes with you, his tongue barely leaving your cum stained clothed. He grasp his hand around your wrist and placed his hand over his head. In instincts, your fingers wrenches at his locks, and a loud moan spills from his mouth. “Touch me, please . . . ”

                       You finally snap.

                 You pull his head back and kneel in front of him, shoving your tongue in his mouth. Venti poses no objection and willingly submits to your dominance, eager to be pushed to the brink of breathlessness as you ingrained in your mind every inch of his wet cavern. You coil your tongue around his, and he hums in delight as he opens his mouth more.

                    When you pull away, Venti follows through, the string of saliva disconnecting from yours to land on his chin.

                             You chortle at his state - half lidded eyes in shapes of hearts, a leaking cock, drooling mouth.

            You plant a chaste kiss on his forehead before taking hold of his member. He squeals in surprise.

                The back of your hand presses firmly against your drooling mouth, smothering a long, and drawn-out moan of ecstasy that threatens to pierce through the silence of the tranquil night as Tomo’s cock eases its way pass your clit and through your soaping entrance. A lewd noise sounds through the open field, and your muted moans intermingle with the howling wind.

    Your cunt shows no resistance and easily opens up to him, welcoming his intruding member as the familiar feeling of pleasure overwhelms your senses. Your clothing, once an ensemble you had carefully selected in the morning, bunches shambolically around your waist, and your panties – soiled in your own wetness – clings to your slit. Your eyes tears their sights at the open, and starless murky skies as the sensation of a pair of calloused palms skates over to your stomach. Your breath hitches as it trails further up, leaving feather touches upon your exposed skin, until you feel fingers hook at the hem of your bra. In one swift motion, he pulls it down, the cups sagging down until your breasts pops out.

                        Tomo lets out a pleased sigh as he cups your tits, and he wastes no time playing, squeezing, and fondling them to his own pleasure. Your nipples hardened as the cool draft sweeps over your bodies. Tomo pinches them between his fingers, rolling them and tugging them. You mewl under his touch, eyes fluttering to a close and your teeth biting on your lower lip to suppress the noises your lover longs for you to release.

           A hum thrums in his throat, and even if you do not take a look back and perceive his mien, you have no shred of doubt in you that a smirk is sculpted handsomely over his brims. “Let it out, baby. Let me hear you moan for me.” His hands falls down to purchase over your waist and presses himself closer to you, his nude chest slotting against your arching back. In his shift of position. As he shifts his position, you feel his fat cock dig deeper inside you. “Fuck baby,” Tomo moans, dipping his head to the crook of your neck, oblivious to how your eye had rolled back. “You feel so fucking good, shit, you’re making me feel good – fuck – fuck – fuck – ”

                                              You close your eyes as he begins driving his cock in and out of your pussy, slowly. Your other arm winds around his shoulder and your nails digs into his flesh. “T-Tomo,” You whimper. “Faster, please.”

                    Your stupor chains you to the pleasure between your thighs, feeling everything of what Tomo generously offers you. His sentences are garbled, scarcely comprehensible in anyone’s hearing as pleasure overrides your prudence and capability to speak. Your eyelids falls over your moist eyes as Tomo drives his cock in and out of your pussy slowly. You feel every ridge of his manhood as they rub against your walls, stimulating you.

                   Tomo inhales. “Baby, if I go any faster,” The tip of his length brushes against a sensitive spot, and your walls flutter around him. He chokes in his own spit at the feeling of your clamping around his cock. “ – oh fuck – we’ll wake up – ah – Kazuha – ”

                    You whimper in protest and your fingernails scratch against his back, for certain leaving angry marks. Tomo groans at the feeling. “I know you're frustrated, baby, but do you really want Kazuha to see us like this?”

           You cast your gaze to the side and indeed, Kazuha lies on his side next to your joined bodies with, back facing you and completely unaware of the despicable act transpiring behind him. His breathing is even and soft, his sword leaning against the tree along with your other belongings.

        Upon seeing Kazuha, a new wave of arousal washes over you. You remove your hand from your mouth and placed your lips on his jaw, trailing soft kisses against his skin. Your hips begin moving on their own, bouncing on Tomo's hard member with an eagerness you didn't know came over you.

                      Tomo lets out a breathless gasp, and a look of horror passes by his face. He swiftly whirls his head to observe Kazuha, checking for signs you two had woken him up.

             You huff as you glare at Tomo. “Baby, keep your eyes on me.” You beg, hands trailing from his bare back to his silver hair. Your fingers run through his tousled strands, and you tug at them, trying to get Tomo to pay attention to you.

                      Tomo opens his mouth in a small moan, but quickly closes it as Kazuha shifts beside him. You see his Adam's apple go up and down, wary of the noises you're making.

    You smirk as you press yourself lips against his ear, increasing your speed on pleasuring his cock. “Just a little more and we'll be able to touch Kazuha.” You whisper. “I wonder if you'll let him join us when he wakes up.” Tomo looks back at you in panic.

                 A curse drips from his mouth at the thought. His hands tightens their grip on your waist, as though trying to stop your hips from bouncing on his cock. In an attempt to stop him, you clasp your hands on his shoulders and rose from his lap until his throbbing head is what's left clinging inside your soaked hole, before slamming back down to his member.

          His cock reaches deep inside of you, too deep. His tip hits the most sensitive spot, something he has never reached before because he is always gentle when having his way with you.

                 “You know what?” A gasp of surprise leaves your lips when all of a sudden, your exposed back is against the ground and Tomo hovers over you, a hand beside your head, legs caging your body, and his other hand holding his dripping cock near your pussy.

                        He licks his lips as the head of his cock teases your folds, his precum smearing your drenched hole.

       “T-Tomo?” You mewl. “What are you – ”

                          “You want my cock so badly, then take it.” Without so much of a warning, he slips himself inside you once again.

He stretches you beyond what you thought you can manage. A strangled moan leaves your mouth as you throws your head back, but his hand clamps over your mouth, silencing you.

                          “As much as I'd like to hear you moan for me, Kazuha is still right there.” You two glance at the slumbering figure of your friend. “We need to be quiet.”

                     Tomo slowly snaps his hips against you, pulling his cock in and out with as little sound as he can make.

           His hot breath fans over your face as his pace increases, squelching noises beginning to accompany his every thrust.

                        You moan against his hand and your arms wraps around his neck and legs around his waist, pulling him closer until he knocks against your cervix.

           A grunt falls from his lips as he continues to fuck you against the ground, his eyes flitting to your cross-eyed face to the place where you two are joined. A shudder runs down your spine as you lift your head off the ground to look down and see his cock into you, your slickness covering every inch of his bulging sex.

               A small groan escapes from Kazuha's lips, and Tomo stilled his movements, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

                            Frustrations gnaws at you as he stops once again to observe Kazuha's idleness. Without so much of a warning, you roll your hips, taking more of him inside you. A grunt leaves his lips, and you whimper as he accidentally hit a sensitive spot.

                                              The pleasure came too quickly. You clench around him, walls tightening as your climax washes over you. Tomo choke in bafflement and he takes his hand off your mouth to take hold of your hips which had yet to stops its movement to take him deeper.

                         With his hand no longer a hinderance to your drooling mouth, the silence of the night is disturbed as a loud, and high-pitched moan slips out of your mouth.

         Your release has barely finished when you felt your pussy suddenly empty.

                            You open your eyes and watch as Tomo stares at your cunt as he strokes his cock, a disapproving glare painted over his visage before his hardened gaze lands back to your flushed face.

                               “Tomo, I didn’t mean to cum – ”

            Tomo takes you by your neck, his hold gentle but firm, and throws you close to where Kazuha sleeps. You attempt to scramble away from the Anemo Vision user, however, Tomo is quick to move. Before you are on your hands and knees in an instant, Tomo saddling behind you with his erect cock prodding against your still fluttering hole.

                    Panic strikes your heart as his head teases your cunt, poking in and out of your wet tightness. You look over your shoulders, eyes dilating. “Tomo, wait, stop,” You plead, and a whine cuts you off momentarily when you felt his dick slap against your slit, the smack sounding too loud now that you're just right behind your fellow wanderer.

                        “You don't seem worried about waking up Kazuha earlier.” Tomo breathes out. His large hands takes steadfast grip on your waist. He tugs you close, his prick sliding up against your clit until it rest between your ass cheeks. He slides his cock up and down, huffing as he squishes your ass to wrap around his length. “Why back out now?”

                        “I was just teasing. Please, please, Tomo, let's do this somewhere else.” Your begging falls in deaf ears.

           “No.” Comes his curt response. The authority and hardness in his tone causes a ripple of lust surge throughout your body.

                        His hand envelops your throat, and he tugs you towards his chest until your back is arched. Using his other hand, Tomo takes the front of your bra and pulls it down, revealing your tits to the cold breeze of the evening. He takes one of your breasts in his hand, palming the soft flesh against his calloused palm.

                  You bite your lips as his thumb and index finger pinches your pert nipple. He rolls, toys, and tugs at the nub, enjoying the small sounds you're making, the same ones you're striving hard not to let the sleeping Kaedehara descendant to hear.

                 “Tomo . . . ” You whisper quietly as his fingers continue to play with your hardening nub.

                              “Baby,” He spouts. His cock gradually glide down between your ass and press against your soaping pussy, his intention clear as day. He tightens his hold around your neck, presses his lips against your ear, and mumble. “I'm going to fuck you until Kazuha wakes up. And when he does,” He exhales. “His cock is going inside your mouth to shut you up.”

                You hiss. Your mind goes haywire at what he said. You can imagine Kazuha turning around to see you getting your insides wrecked by his best friend, naked, crossed eyed, drooling, tits bouncing in front of his face, as Tomo continually abuses your cunt.

                              “Oh,” Tomo hums. “Did I just hear a moan?”

                      You didn't even realize you had let out a moan.

                      He laughs. He peppers your neck with light kisses, licking a patch of skin from time to time as though he plans to mark you, but never does. “Do you enjoy the thought of that, baby?” He questions. "For sure any man, even as someone as composed as Kazuha, would get hard at the sight of you getting fucked out of your mind."

                      His teeth nibbles at your skin. You whine, pleasure and pain intermingling. He pauses in his markings and carries on. “Do you want to know what I'll do?” You didn't answer. You know he isn't asking for one. “I'll force open your mouth and tell him to take out his cock and use your mouth until he's done with you.”

                      Your arousal heightens as images of his dirty portrayal poisons your mind. You wonder how Kazuha taste. Is he gentle? Is he rough?

                Tomo moves away from you, but still he kept a tight grip on your throat and breast. “And when he does – ” You choke in your own spit as Tomo rams inside you in one swift thrust. A loud, and wanton sound of your juices breaks through the quiet as Tomo forces his member inside you. “ – you – ” A thrust, and you moan, “ –  better –  ” Another thrust, another poorly concealed moan, “ – drink all of – ” Tomo pounds your pussy with vigor, abandoning all carefulness as he chases his own release. “ – his cum – ugh, fuck yeah, baby."

                  In your position, head turned up to the skies and back arching against Tomo with his hands squeezing your tit and neck, you have no other choice but to take everything he's giving you. Your pussy rejoice as he uses your body to pump his large cock in to.

             The squelching noises seem to echo in the vast wilderness, stretching out to the plains and to the horizon. You can hardly contain your moans. Your abused and well used hole is forcing you to moan, encouraging Tomo to force more out of you.

            You try to bite your lip to stop the series of wanton “ah - ah - ah – ah” leaving your lips but Tomo increased his speed, his balls slapping against your folds and his toned chest brushing roughly against your slick back.

                                You feel his nose perch over your neck, inhaling your scent. Your eyes roll back as you feel your second climax approaching, coming way faster than before because of your recent release just mere minutes ago and Tomo's ceaseless pounding.

                                              “I-I’m – ”

      Tomo shushes you. “Shh, I know, baby, hang on a little longer, would you?”

              You can hardly see anything through the thick tears rolling down your cheeks as a haze of lust clouds your rationality. All you can think about is the pleasure Tomo is giving you. He's relentless in his fucking, every slam of his cock in your pussy surging pulses of pleasure throughout your body. Your breasts bounce along with his movements, and your pussy constricts around him.

             “Baby,” Tomo pants. He releases your neck and breast, leaving you sitting upright with nothing but his shaft keeping you from falling. “Bend over for me.”

    “But – ”

                          A slap against your ass shuts you up quickly. “Just do as I say, baby.” Tomo commands.

                      You look forward and observe Kazuha's sleeping figure.

          “There's no more space,” You inform. “I-I can't bend now – ”

                    “You know what I mean,” Tomo lines his cock at your eagerly dripping pussy. He place his thumb over your rear end, gently circling around the puckered hole. “Bend over Kazuha.”

               Color drains from your face as you his order registers in your mind. You splutter at the idea, legs quaking as you formulate an image of your body being abused by Tomo to sate his lust for you over your innocent and slumbering friend.

                      Truly, it would be horrifying for Kazuha and equally mortifying for you to wake the Kaedehara descent and the first thing that welcomes him back to reality is seeing his best friend cock drunk, heart in her eyes, and saliva drooping at the corner of her moaning lips as his other best friend screw his erection deep inside her.

                            You close your eyes. “Tomo . . . ”

                 Tomo clicks his tongue. “You're not going to follow? I thought you'd be a good girl for me tonight.” He heaves a sigh. “Bend over him.”

                            You shake your head, adamant on denying his desires. “We can't do this to Kazuha.” You mumble.

                      “Oh, you can't? Well, that's a shame.”

                                         Glittering hues widen in fright. That voice didn't belong to Tomo.

                               Tomo lets out a laugh. “Ah, good evening, Kazuha.” He moves back. His girth slips out of you. With his sudden movement, you are unable to find your balance and you plummet forward, your arms scattering forward to save yourself from collapsing to the dirt.

                      A pair of arms catches you before your face can plant on the ground.

                        You look up and see Kazuha has sat up and is staring down at you. What should have strike fear in you is his abrupt awakening, but it's the clear lust in his eyes that took you back.

                      Kazuha appraises you with lidded eyes as he bring you to his arms. Your breasts presses against his chest, and he cages you in his hold, his eyes not once leaving your face.

           “I'm surprised you haven't pounced on her earlier.” Tomo laughs out, stroking his cock. Precum oozes out from the head, and you lick your lips at the sight.

                        Quizzicality encompasses your frame, puzzled by their interaction.

       Kazuha produces a thoughtful him. “It was difficult not to do so the moment she said my name but the longer I wait, the better the prize.”

                      Regardless of your fucked out stupor, you reel your head from one man to the other, understanding slowly the situation at hand.

              “You two planned this, didn't you?” You spit, glaring.

                    Tomo sneers at you, and Kazuha simply veers his hands over the small of your back to your ass cheeks. He kneads the soft flesh, a small and satisfied “ah” leaking from his lips when he spreads apart your rear hole, in the process widening your abused pussy.

                        Mortification fills you as Kazuha uses a finger to play with your lower lips, and a glob of Tomo's precum travels down from your cunt to your leg and comes to a rest in the area behind your knee.

                        “I think you're even more turned on than I was, Tomo. You look like you already came in her.” Kazuha parts your pussy lips. He leans over your frame, and you clutch his clothes as he intently eyes your opening, fluttering as it searches for something to clamp on.

              Tomo scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry, I know I promised to go easy on her, but she looked so cute.” The older male leans against his other hand planted behind him while his occupied hand shamelessly touches his shaft in front of you and Kazuha. “But since you're done acting, I assume you want to share her now.”

                                  At the prospect of being passed around between these men sends ripples of arousal to the pit of your stomach.

           “She seems to like the idea.” Kazuha comments, sniggering. “She shivered.”

                      You lift your head up to protest but Kazuha's lips crashes against yours. He shoves his tongue inside your wet cavern when you parted your lips to moan, and he wastes no time memorizing every inch of your mouth, marking his territory.

            You feel his massive erection straining against the soft fabric of his clothing as he grinds against your pussy. Your juices stains his attire, but none of you seem to mind as you respond to his movement and moans with your own.

      “Oi, oi, baby, don't forget about me.”

                      You feel Tomo's presence loom behind you. His arms weaves to your sides and traps you in between him and Kazuha, rendering you out of any possible escape routes.

                                             The head of his cock teases your folds, hitting your opening as he composes himself in a more comfortable position.

                              His mouth bites down on your neck, making you mewl against Kazuha's mouth.

                      When Venti told you he has an adventure for you to accompany him on, it never crossed your mind that it would be behind the Church of Favonius, your knees scrapping against the hard and rough cement and the corners of your lips drooling as his cock thrust in and out of your throat.

                                      You choke and moan against his intruding length, and Venti takes delight in the noises you make. “Hush, my dear muse, you’re being a little too loud for someone who claims they don’t want to get caught.” He coos, and the triumphant smirk painted upon his brims broadens at the feeling of his erection reaching the back of your throat. A hand of his comes to stroke your tresses, soothing the tension knotting your body. “Or perhaps you intend to rouse the sisters from their quarters and have them witness your whorish display, and on holy grounds too.”

       Your pupils dilate at such possibility. Your heart hammers against your chest as you envision the sisters look at you in horror as they catch you allowing a man make use of your mouth for his pleasure. Despite the redness overtaking your face as humiliation strikes you, heat and wetness pools between your legs. You never thought you’ll grow aroused from simply thinking of something like that. Your reaction, of course, did not evade Venti’s sights.

                            “You seem to like that idea.” Chuckles Venti. He snaps his pelvis forward, and your throat instinctively contracts around his hard cock, and you nearly take him out of your mouth when he grabs the back of your head and forces you back to choke on him. A groan tumbles out of his lips, and he throws his head back, marveling at your discomfort and struggle. You splutter and gasp around him, globs of saliva trickling down from your mouth and dropping on the pavement. With great struggle, your nails dug against his waist as you pry yourself away from his member.

    It’s much harder than you originally thought. The very moment his thickness leaves your throat, a feeling of hollowness graces in your canal. You slowly move to take him out of your craving mouth, but your tongue refuse to leave his cock. It doesn’t cease pleasuring him, the pink muscle gliding across every angry vein popping along his manhood. You already miss the taste of his precum when you haven’t even taken him out.

                   Venti tilts his head to the side. Despite the color of pink tinting his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a look of satisfaction and mockery is palpable over his face. “Oh? What’s this? I was sure you were going to reprimand me for my words. Or could it be . . . ” He trails off as a speckle of mischief glimmers in his teal hues. “ . . . that you don’t want to do anything else but suck my cock?”

            The corners of your eyes turn to slits as you aim a scorching glower. Your hands fall to his lower garment, scrunching the material in your vice hold as you abandon any thoughts of removing his cock from your mouth.

                  You lean forward, diving in to take all of him until your nose hits his pelvis, his balls grazing your chin, and he’s back to filling your throat. You move your head back and forth, choking yourself with his cock. A string of profanities breezes past his huffing lips, and he refrains from gripping your hair and taking control of your movement.

Most of the time, Venti would lose all self-restraint and fuck your mouth without so much of a thought about you, too drunken with the pleasure your wet cavern was providing. Despite the absence of his erratic pounding, you still struggle on accommodating him. For someone with a short stature, his size never fails to surprise you or make things difficult for you whenever he enters your eager cunt or guides his length to your salivating mouth.

                        Your muffled moans threaten to reverberate through the Church. The taste and scent of his precum sends you in a daze. You drool all over his length like a dog would as your mind clouds with lust. Your hand slides your clothed folds earnestly rubs against your palm, trying to ease the arousal with the little friction you can give it. You can feel your slickness had oozed out of your

            “Ah – ah – aah, you know that’s not allowed my muse.” Venti takes a handful of your hair and pulls his cock out of your mouth. A string of saliva connects your tongue from the tip of his cock. A glob of your slobber and a thick pearl of his precum drops to the ground, and you couldn’t help but whine at the loss of his length in your mouth.

   He snickers shamelessly at your cock hungry expression. “My, my, that's the expression I adore. And I haven’t even have my cock inside you yet.” Chuckles Venti. He raises your chin with his forefinger, tilting his head to the side. His braids sway with his motion, the teal tips seemingly shining under the moonlight. “Do you want me to?”

                      You earnestly nod your head, your cunt clamping clenches around nothing. “Yes,” You whimper.

                                   “Beg, then.” Venti sneers. He takes his shaft and presses the head of his cock, smearing his juice against your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick him but he retracts, opting to slap his hardness against your face. “No cheating, my muse.” He warns, one eye closing to irk you. “Beg for me to fuck you – ” He brings his cock down to the side of your face, leaving precum in its wake. “ – behind the church, my church.”

                                    Hearing his words had your cunt pulsating. You didn’t know why you find it exciting Venti wants to screw you silly behind the very church the Favonius constructed to worship him. Would the sisters look at you differently if they see you whoring yourseld out to a Bard? No doubt about it. They'll be repulsed at the very sight of you and whisper ill things behind your back ("I bet she lets him takes her anywhere, that filthy woman," "I don't doubt they'll try to sneak inside the church and defile the altar").

         Who cares about what they think? You think as you gaze hazily at Venti’s member. Its head throbs before you, ready to take you at after conceding to his request. I’m worshiping the Lord Barbatos in a way they can’t.

                  You swallow the saliva that collected in your mouth and raise your head to lock eyes with him, thick tears accumulating at the corner of your eyes and a small amount of his cum leaking down your lower lip. “Fuck me, Venti.” You plead, desperate for him to mount you. Your hands come to grip his shorts, tugging at it. “I want your cock inside me, I want you to fuck me behind the church. Fill me with your cum, Lord Barbatos. I need you so bad, please, please, please.”

                                That seems to strike a nerve within Venti. You gasp as Venti pins you to the pavement, pulling your skirt down and pushing aside your sloshed underwear. You feel your juices stick between your thighs. Venti hums in delight at the sight.

               The sun has begun its ascent, taking its rightful place in the morning skies, as the moon bid its farewell with one last withering light from a distance. The sun acknowledges your presence, cascading its warm rays upon your exposed form, prompting you to awake from your peaceful slumber. However, you dismiss its greeting with a quiet murmur of protest, opting to ignore the warmth and instead bury your face on the chest of the man lying down beside you.

      A chuckle blossoms in the silence of the bedroom, and a pair of lean arms capture you in an embrace. This disturbance, however, is welcomed, unlike the sunlight which still has its touch on your nude back. “I know you want to sleep in, my love,” A deep voice grumbles next to your ear, causing you to squirm. “But don’t you believe it’s time to wake up? Your work awaits you.” You can almost hear the amusement in his exhausted voice, and you did not have to incline your sight to meet his to see he is regarding you with a rather entertained expression. You can already imagine how the sunrays perfectly cast the caramel color of his hair and the tuft of white with light, and how his teal eyes appraise you in a heated gaze – you clenched your thighs at the mere thought.

                               The only response you can conjure in your state of fatigue is an inaudible noise of objection to his suggestion. Your fingers reach out and softly curls themselves on his tousled brown and white tresses. Another chuckle falls from his lips. You feel his hand stray to your own hair and tucks a lock behind your ear. “You must be very exhausted. You’re not usually like this.” He whispers. “Did I overdo it last night, dearest?” His voice is small and quiet, like the morning has yet to dawn upon the land of Eternity, and the dark skies littered with stars and moon still looms over.

                  A shiver weaves throughout your body as his fingers dances across your back, from the back of your neck to the dip of your back, and to the space just above your ass.

                              “I’m going to guess I’m right.”

  A squeal brushes past your lips when his digits took a bit of your soft flesh in their hold and pinches lightly. The fatigue that has once clouded your senses is dispelled at his ministration. Your hand abandons his strands and leaves a reprimanding slap on his chest, but your halfhearted action did not deter your lover. He laughs at the pout forming on your face, his tail moving left and right.

                          “Not funny, Gorou.” You chastise – although there is no venom lacing your inflection – with a mild frown.

            A broad and infectious beam is present and apparent on Gorou’s brims, and his laughter slowly came to a cease as he regains his bearings. “Sorry, sorry.” There is a lack of sincerity in his quipped apology. His arm comes to a rest around your waist and with a firm but controlled pull, your physique presses closer to him. His other arm curls around your head and brings your face closer to his own until you can see the imperfections of his features you have grown to adore. Your line of sight embarks in a journey to the softness and warmth in his eyes, to the pink hue dusting across his cheeks, to his lips which beckons you to relive the ecstasy of last night, and then lastly, to the marks and bruises marring his neck.

                                You lick your lips at the sight of them. You can vaguely recall straddling him in the previous evening, head spinning and mouth open in a moan as your hips and pussy worked wonders on his cock. You remember leaning over to his panting stature, breathing down on his neck, hearing him whimper in need as filth of your desires spewed to his ears, before sinking your teeth on his flesh. He cried out your name whenever your walls contract on his length, and his bound wrists above his head struggled against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

                A purr of satisfaction thrums against your chest as his fingers begin to toy with your tresses. The sensation is familiar and comforting, it almost brings you back to the brink of sleep until he spoke. “But it’s not like this is the first time I’ve touched your ass.”

            A stoic mask encapsulates your features, and Gorou takes pleasure in renouncing his fingers from playing with your hand in favor of taking your cheek between his fingers and tugging at it tenderly. You let out a mewl of objection to his antics, but it seems to garner the opposite reaction as he pulls your cheek a little harder the second you expressed your dislike to his innocent deed.

                                     “Gorou, stop,” You groan out as your eyes flutter to a close, but even with making known of your disapproval to his ministration, your body remains contentedly secure against his chest, doing nothing to support your statement. Early in the morning, late in the night, when the sun has risen, or the moon has reigned, you craved his attention – and he knew it too.

         You huff, and even then Gorou did not relent his pinching. “How would you like a taste of your own medicine?”

                                              A smirk appears on Gorou’s lips, and his tail, though wagging, settles in a more languid pace. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

            An affirmation is all you need from him. Your hands leave their purchase on his bare chest to caress his ears, and slowly, you curl your digits behind them. The effect you laid on him is instantaneous. His ears twitches at your touch and his head is thrown back, an imperceptible moan of pleasure seeping through his parted lips. His eyes close at the sensation, and scarlet hue over his cheeks became richer in color. Oh, how you wanted to witness the helplessness that you are certain to cross his eyes, to be in awe of the power you hold over this man, but you dare not to disturb this time of tranquility and intimacy between the two of you. For now, you shall spare him from the mortification.

                            This time, it is your turn to showcase your smirk. His reactions never fail to amuse you. You proceed to put your fingers into motion, scratching his dog ears as leisurely. You watch as Gorou bit his lower lip, straining from the temptation to whine at your touch. He opens an eye to look at you, and as you have expected, the vulnerability you have longed to see graces his teal hues. “Stop it, [ Your Name ],” He moans, frustration leaking on his visage. “That’s unfair. You know how sensitive I am with my ears.”

                      “Then stop pinching my cheek.”

                                “How will you make me?”

                                                  Your jeering smirk broadens at his taunting response, but it looks a bit crooked by how he was still refusing to release your cheek. “Fine, be that way.”

                        Before he can question your remark, you have already made your move. Gorou gasps in astonishment as you position yourself on top of him, your breasts pressing firmly against his chest and your forearms confining his head in between. Blood rushes to Gorou’s cheeks as he gazes up at your form, contrasting the color of his skin. You stifle a laugh at his reaction.

                            A gratified smiled appears on your countenance as you cage Gorou beneath you. You catch his left ear twitch. Your triumph is short lived, however. With the playfulness Gorou is exhibiting, the recollections of your erotic endeavors last night dissolve. Your bareness has entirely fled your mind. But everything comes crashing back as his flaccid length brush delicately against your slit. You inhale at the sensation, and a pleasured grunt exudes a delectate grunt.

                    The feeling of your sexes meeting is fleeting but arousal has begun to form in your lower region. It seems you are not alone in your growing arousal for your lover, his slowly hardening cock and steadily accelerating tail testaments to your claim. If this has been a more lighthearted situation, you know Gorou would impishly scold his tail for betraying him. But Gorou knows when to speak, and when to keep his mouth shut, like the obedient boy he is.

 Wordlessly, Gorou keeps his sights on you, eyelids partly cover his hues. You return his gaze with the similar flicker of desire in your own. None to speak a word to the other, afraid even the slightest sound of the outdoors could break the sinful silence surrounding the two of you. The mischief and mirth that once hung in the atmosphere are vanquished, the yearning for the touch of the other taking their place, growing stronger the longer you stare into each other’s eyes.

                                 It catches you by surprise when Gorou moves, circling his arms around your waist to pull you closer. You bite your lip when you feel his muscles flexing in his careful motion, but all attention to them is immediately forgotten as he prods his pelvis against yours. You smother back the shudder that threatens to cascade down your spine, but all efforts are left for naught as a breathless gasp escapes your when he rubs his cock against your soaked pussy. You feel his tip beginning to swell as he continues to play with your nether lips. You swallow as his member travels up and down your slit, tracing your opening, before costively bringing his hips off the mattress.

                      You open your mouth to question his motives, however, nothing protrudes from you but a sharp and soft exhale. Gorou tightens his hold around you and you can see the effort he exerts to keep himself from throwing his head back further against the pillow behind his head. His cock grazes against your other hole. The precum sprouting at his tip smears at your puckered entrance, the warm liquid creating an uncomfortable stickiness between your rear end and his cock.

                                              An idea surfaces in your mind. As he carries on with his gentle actions, you take this opportunity to retaliate to his less than subtle light teasing.

                                    Does he think I still haven’t caught on with his ways by now?

         You push your ass down and up, sliding your puffy pussy lips against his large cock. His reaction is as you would have expected but witnessing it firsthand is always a pleasure to you. His eyes close tightly and his fingernails dig deep and firm on your supple flesh. You can feel shapes of a crescent moon imbedding on to your body.

                 “[ Your Name ],” Gorou breathes out your name, but nothing else follows. Nothing to indicate he dislikes your treatment, and thus, you carry on. You lift and lower your rear at his hard penis, humming as his essence creams your aching holes. You can so easily slide his cock inside you, take him in and grab the upper hand, have him at the mercy of your body. It almost feels natural to have him beneath you. As the Electro Archon, the almighty Raiden Shogun, you are accustomed to power, and being in a relationship does not alter such acclimation. But you deny yourself of the pleasure to do so.

                            Letting him in is a victory for him, and this is intended to be punishment for his misbehavior.

       A forced chuckle breezes pass Gorou’s lips. “This was your plan, huh? Turn me to repeat what happened last night?” He sucks in a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m open to the idea. I’ll be more than happy to oblige for my beautiful Archon.”

                         Redness tints your cheeks at his words. You still yourself on top of him and purse your lips.  “That isn’t my intention – ah –  ”

                                         His pelvis thrusts forward before you can finish your sentence. The head of his length slips inside your cunt for a split second, evoking a shocked gasp from you, and pulling out as quickly as he entered. The feeling of his cock poking inside of you still tingles in your hole, and it would be mortifying for you to admit that you wished he had fully sheathed himself inside of you and rail you with abandon.

           It takes you several seconds to gather your bearings at the stunt Gorou pulled. Said male grins wickedly at you, his canines showing and glinting in the soft sunrays. A scowl manifest on your brims. “You bastard,” You growl, glowering at his triumphant smile.

                       “Oh, of course.” Gorou quips. “You tease me, it’s fine. I tease you, I get sworn at.”

                                   You let out a noise of discontentment. “If you have any plans on fucking me today, do it already.”

  “Ah, right, you still have your duties to attend to.” Gorou lets out a laugh, but you can detect the hint of resentment in his tone.

                  You are familiar with Gorou’s feelings about your duties. Although he has not publicly proclaimed it, you have always suspected his disdain to your responsibilities. When you questioned him about this, he simply told you – with a small pout like a child denied of an object of his desire with arms folded over his chest – that your onuses are tearing you away from him. All he wants to do is lay down, forget the world beyond your bedroom, and drown in your presence. This had greatly bothered you for him, of all people, should know what he was getting into when he agreed to be your lover. But that notion was quickly dismissed upon further thought. Gorou never once tried to persuade you to run away from your responsibilities to be with him. He must have already understood that you have a duty you need to fulfill to your people, to your beloved Land of Eternity – but of course, that did not stop him from disliking your callings.

                                                   You can sympathize with him, however. With him being one of the Generals of the Shogunate, you too must constantly fight with yourself and stifle the temptation to use your authority to keep him stationed in your abode for him not to stray far from you.

                                 He breathes out. “But you’re the one who decided to get on top of me. If anything, you should be the one fucking me.”

                   Gorou raises a hand off your waist. You can feel his touch ghosting over your skin, traveling down on your lower back. Your throat tightens as his fingers finds your drenched opening. His touch is light, almost ghostly. You can feel his forefinger tracing your pussy with lazy strokes, but it’s not enough. You gulp – he is making a mess of your arousal, spreading your wetness in your inner thighs and ass.

          You choke back a moan. He is hardly touching you and you are responding to his touches like a whore desperate to be used and filled. Perhaps it is because you are.

                  You know Gorou is aware just how good he is making you feel. His cock has been throbbing in between your ass cheeks as his fingers rub circles on your clit. It is a miracle to you that he has not stuck his cock in yet when he could clearly do so. There is nothing stopping him from taking hold of your waist and ramming into you. It makes you wonder if you should applaud him for his strong self-restraint or curse at him for keeping you in this pathetic state, putty in his hands and trying to save face by trying your hardest not to grind against his manhood.

You opened your mouth to reprimand him, but his lips were upon you before any word can come out of you, and at the same time, his digits penetrated you easily.

            Your mouth opens to protest, but his lips seals over yours, cutting off any words that dare roll out of your tongue. At the same time, his digits pierces through your opening.

                                                A noise vibrates in your vocal tract, but Gorou’s raring lips swallows your noises.

           Your vision becomes crossed at the abrupt intrusion in your pussy. Gorou, without tearing his lips away from you, inserts his long and thick fingers in your hole without any warning. Your body turns limp. He did not give you any time to adjust and he pumps his fingers in your cunt.

                                  He withdraws from you, and you stop yourself from letting out a whimper of discontent. “You’re shaking so much, darling.” As humiliating as it is, he is far from incorrect. His fingers drag in and out of you in a painfully slow pace. Each push reaches deep inside you and every pull has you yearning for more.

        “Faster, please.” You whisper, eyes boring into his mirthful ones. Oh, you did not like that gleam in his eyes.

                              “I’ll think about it.” Gorou replies with a tone that suggest he is going to do anything but surrender to your plea and carries on with his slow movement in your pussy, feigning ignorance to the glare you send his way.

                                      His motive is as clear as day. He wants you to beg or push yourself to meet with his thrusts. His speed never changes. It’s just the right pace to slowly push you to the brink of giving him what he wants.

  You seethe your teeth, and you quietly take his fingers. You have lost count of the times you took Gorou out on a stroll around your residence. With the two of you having your own responsibilities to the people of Inazuma, you can never find enough time to prepare for an extravagant date with delectable cuisines and a luxurious room. Not to mention, those sorts of dates aren’t exactly Gorou’s cup of tea. Walks and picnic dates in your garden are frequent, and your favorite among the small number of other dates you two do. In those walks, your hand always finds Gorou’s. It is in your nature to interlock your fingers with his at that point. You often compare the size of your hand to his own, so you know just how larger his hand is, and how longer his fingers are. But it never really sunk into you until he was using them to pleasure you. It is only at these times did you hate his fingers.

    He watches your expression crumble as he fingerfucks you. A smirk arises to his brims. You wish to wipe the conceited smirk off his face but all you can do is close your eyes and moan. A drool drips from the corner of your mouth, trickling down to your chin. You silently hope for him not to notice it, but alas, he did. He chuckles at the sight of it but does not say anything, which you are thankful for.

                         He leans forward until your faces are once again inches apart. You close your eyes, preparing to feel his lips flutter over yours. Warmth and wetness laps over the corner of your lips, licking the trail of drool that escaped your mouth.

            Any inhibitions that once held you back from entertaining Gorou’s actions was thrown out of the window, and with a shaky breath, you placed your hands on his chest, pushed yourself up and rocked yourself into his fingers. With the unison of your movements, his fingers managed to reach even deeper in your cunt.

                 Any inhibitions that once held you back from entertaining Gorou’s teasing has dissolved. And a portion of self-respect went along with them. A trembling puff of air steadily streams out of your mouth, and a quiver running down your spine subsequently follows. Your hands make purchase over his chest, your fingers gliding up his collarbone – tracing the dips with thoughtful touches – and running down to take his nipples in your hold. You take silent note of how his breathing hitches.

                                  You play the nubs between your fingers. Pulling, twisting, and you listen to the moans he desperately tries to fight off. A frown adorns your countenance, displeased by his silence. You lean your head down to his chest, removing one hand from his nipple for a short moment, to swipe your locks to one side and take his neglected nipple in your wet cavern.

                     “[ Your Name ],” He stutters, but he is unable to make an end of his whisper as a moan of pleasure overrides your name. You give his hardened nub a quick suck, and watch his expression unfold right before your eyes. Your tongue runs over his nipple. His face has always been beautiful, but it is when he’s a whimpering mess with scarlet painted over his face that makes him look ethereal.

         Your tongue creates a circular motion around his nipple, and you pull away from him. His fingers have long lost their rhythm inside you, too enraptured by your ministrations on him. He attempts to glare at you, but it has done nothing to make you regret your actions. In all truthfulness, it is simply adorable how he tries to look tough as nails when he’s breathing heavily with red face, hair tousled, beads of sweat encompassing his frame, and his left nipple hard, sore, and wet from your saliva.

                                           “[ Your Name ].”

                        “Gorou,” You return with the same quietness.

              With a newfound confidence, you take his wet nipple in between your fingers, pinching it, before releasing the other one.

                                  His head lifts from the bed, a scowl carving on his brims. “Stop.” He orders.

     A mirthful smirk graces your face. Because you possess a streak of maliciousness behind the closed doors of your room, you respond, “I’ll think about it.”

              You brought your face closer to his right nipple, fully intending to do the same attention you’ve given to the other. However, Gorou is one step ahead of you. Your lips have barely grazed his digits penetrates deep inside your cunt, stunning you. A choke exudes out of your contracting throat. He did not let you adjust to the abrupt change, and he speeds up his pace, fucking you in a speed you cannot comprehend because your mind went into a haze, ridding you of your consciousness for a short second, as your hips went against you and have begun meeting his fucking by bouncing on his fingers.                        

You couldn’t see how his fingers are thrusting in and out of your drenched pussy, but you can only that they are nothing but a back-and-forth blur. You couldn’t keep your moans to yourself anymore and they come cascading down your drooling mouth.

                              “G-G-G – ah – Gor – ahhh – ou –” You try to say his name, but it comes in part. You recall saying

                                       A satisfied beam graced Gorou’s face as you let yourself get loud. You know your servants outside of your room can hear you, know exactly what is transpiring behind the doors they stood by. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

                You didn’t care if they were thinking inappropriately of you – of their beloved Archon. All that is important is the man underneath you, giving you a sort of service only he can offer.

                                 “So wet early in the morning.” Gorou mumbles. He curls his fingers deliciously inside of you, hitting an area he has always successfully reached with his fingers and with his cock. A broken scream tore from your throat and your head fell on his chest. Your breathing is erratic, intermingling with the lewd sounds Gorou’s fingers was making inside of you. He smiles down at you, chuckling at the mess he had made of you. “How cute. I suppose last night has not left you satisfied yet?”

                   “It’s your fault – oh fuck – ” You whisper, groaning when his finger come to a sudden halt, only to curl in such a manner that had you throwing your head back, and your back arching. Your tongue lolled out of your tongue like a dog would, and you knew Gorou took pleasure in seeing your lewd expression. With the countless of times you have provoked awoke his dog like characteristics,

                                   “My fault?” He hums.  “Tell me again how this is my fault?”

    You knew what he is doing. You are at the edge of delirium as you eagerly ride his fingers, hips going up and down as the tips of his digits brushed against your cervix. He knew you are rendered hopeless in conjuring any coherent response. All he wants is to see you struggling knowing he was the one making you act like this.

                    “Because you . . . you . . . ” Your velvety walls have begun contracting around his fingers. If that is not giving you away from your close climax, the way your shoulders shakes and hips stutter in their momentum, and how your moans altered to desperate whimpers of his name certainly did. Gorou, with his keen eyes takes notice of all these signs.

                                               And because he is a tease, Gorou immediately pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you in the wake of your ruined orgasm. You can feel the slickness dripping out of you stick to your inner thighs, as well as Gorou’s. Your teary eyes focused on the man below you, a glower fixating on your features. However, all Gorou did was smile a self-satisfied smile.

                        He brought his cum covered fingers to his lips and you swallowed as you watched his tongue wrap around them, lapping up your essence like it had been so long since he has tasted you.

                  “You taste good.” The rich shade of red deepens on your cheeks at his remarks, and he can only laugh as you wrap your arms around him and place your head back to the crook of his neck, hiding your flushed face from the Geo Vision Wielder.

           “Shut up.” You whisper.

                                      “My, my, the Raiden Shogun, embarrassed because of a little tease?” He chuckles. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day. Except for me, I suppose.” His fingers, damp from his spit and your cum, descends upon your locks and treaded through them, combing them as though they were fine silk. “I get to see every part of you, and only me.”

                  You lift your head up and smiled down at him. “Does that make you feel special?”

             Gorou looks up in feigned thought, ear twitching. “Let me think. A smart and beautiful woman is in love with me, and she’s Archon of the great land of Inazuma. Yes, that does make me feel special.” A soft smile graces on his features, but it was soon replaced by a teasing smirk, the kind of smirk you’ve only seen on him when he has learned something valuable. “But you know what makes me feel powerful?”

                                            You didn’t think you could get any wetter. “What?”

                                Gorou plants a kiss on your cheek. “That [ Your Name ] [ Last Name ] spreads her legs for me whenever I ask her to.”

  You are suddenly reminded of your situation when you felt his hardened cock run up and down your slit, the head once again teasing your entrance in a way that makes your head spin. Pleasure is knocking on your doors, and you are desperate to answer.

                             “Just put it inside me,” You whine. “Please.”

                       “I can’t hear you, dear. You have to be a little louder.” Gorou hums. He takes his time playing at your clit,  tapping his cock against your hole and smearing his slickness on your own.

              “Oh, why you . . . ” You raised your head from his neck, glaring at him with lust in your eyes. “ . . . just fuck me already, Gorou, please – ”

                  You are rendered useless to continue your statement when you found yourself being flipped around, your right cheek pressing against the mattress, wrists bound behind your back by a string grip, Giroud’s chest against your back, and his length slowly easing inside your pretty hole.

  Your mouth opened in a silent moan, head thrown back as he stuffed you full of his large cock. You can hear Gorou trying to hold back his groans as entered you, the squelching sound louder than it was before. Both of you simultaneously moaned when his hips bucked forward, pelvis meetings yours. It felt like an eternity before he bottomed out. He is balls deep inside you – so full of him – and the tip of his cock rests against a sensitive spot.

                            “So full.” You mumble. “Full, so . . . ”

              Gorou smirks down at you as he used his other than to wipe the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “Just the way you like it.”

     He began thrusting inside you. His pace started out slow, but soon, he was slamming into your cunt with abandon, hand forgetting your wrists to take hold of your waist. A series of “ah” spills out of your mouth as he fucked you.

                 He begins thrusting inside you. His pace starts slow and sure, and you feel every inch of his length stretching you out. But it did not take long until he is slamming into you with abandon, his hand forgetting your wrists to take hold of your waist. You secretly wonder if he sees your as his lover or a toy for him to release inside of. Either way, you’ll be happy to be both.

              You feel the veins of his cock dragging deliciously in your walls. Tears wells up in your eyes when the head of his length hit perfectly your most sensitive spot. Your vision crosses.

                                   The bed was creaking underneath your vigorous forms, the legs threatening to give way with how vigorous Gorou is using you. Your fingers digs into the fabric of the bed and tears pricks at the corner of your mouth as you helplessly moaned beneath Gorou’s grunting figure. Every time his cock pistons in you, your body shook and a mewl follows. You have been with Gorou for quite some time now and even until now, his girth still feels like the first time you laid with him.

           Your hole can barely accommodate his size, and it was by your sheer will – like always – to pleasure him that pushed you to take every inch of him. It didn’t matter if it was painful, it felt too good to stop. The pain came with unimaginable pleasure that only he can bring.

       A particularly hard thrust had you screaming and in the process, your walls clamped around his length. A throaty moan escaped Gorou’s lips at the sudden action and his hips stutters before coming to an abrupt halt. You whimper at the loss of movement.

              Gorou place his head, chin resting on your shoulder as he breathed in and out, trying to collect himself. He removes his hands from your hips and place them on either side of you, trapping you without any chance of escape. “Resorting to teasing me, huh?”

                        You shake your head lightly. “N-No, I wasn’t – ” You let out a soft cry when without warning, Gorou resumes pounding your sensitive pussy. Your eyes crosses again and your tongue pokes out of your mouth. You didn’t need a mirror to know you resembled like a panting dog, and you knew Gorou would love to see that kind of fucked out expression on you. But he was too focused on driving his cock as deep as he can inside you hole to make a comment about it.

                                                          You are pressed firmly against the mattress with no space for movement other than erratically grinding against Gorou’s, meeting his thrusts with fervor.

          With your face against the bed, you watch as Gorou propped his weight on his right arm, stifling a grunt as he tries to keep his balance and momentum. You feel his left arm slide down in front of you and to your crotch. His fingers found your clit and he wasted no time furiously rubbing the wet nub.                    With the added pleasure, you were thrown to euphoria. You feel his hot breath brushing against the back of your neck, and his scent was slowly filling your senses.

                  “How are you holding up?” You didn’t know how to answer his question. Your lips move but you cannot make out any coherent sentences other than your muttering of how good he felt. Each drag of his cock and each pump his hips made stole your breath and sanity away, leaving you anything but a shred of your divinity.

                     “Feel so good,” You whimper. Your walls accepted everything he was giving you, to his love and devotion for you, and the overwhelming pleasure he was serving you. No other man can make you feel as loved and as adored like Gorou did. So, you will gladly return the favor, being his hole to fuck and fill with his seed.

               “I-I’m – ”

          Gorou places a kiss to your neck, and buried himself on your warm skin, huffing. His tail swishes behind him, something you came to learn that he was as vulnerable and sensitive as you are despite his dominance. You can feel him twitching inside you, ready to explode. It seems he wasn’t too far from his release as well.

                                             “Just hold on a little longer, dear.”

                                  His pace did not falter, but you can feel his fangs grazing on your skin – a frequent sign that he does not have much long until he lets go. Wanting to be a good lover to him, you craned your neck to give him a larger space. He kissed a patch of your flesh as a sign of gratitude.

                     You close your eyes as you Gorou’s warm seed flood your insides along with the sensation of his fangs puncturing your neck. The pain comes swiftly but it dissipates just as quick as he pumps in you in a languid manner, trying to prolong the euphoria and stuffing you with his seed. The feeling of his load filling your insides forces you to climax. It’s a soft and quiet release, and you cuddle against Gorou as your cum spurts out of your pussy, dribbling down to your inner thighs and mixing with his overflowing cum.

            For a moment, there was just serenity between the two of you, your hushed breaths, and the lewd noises your union were making being the only thing heard in the room.

      After composing himself, Gorou gets off you with a grunt, and you muffle your pathetic whine against your mattress as his cock slowly drags out of you. He paused a bit when the head of his manhood slipped out of your pussy lips. After a moment of contemplations, he reenters you for a quick second, and proceeding to leave you empty completely. You look at his manhood from your periphery and your tongue darts out to lick your lips upon seeing it covered in your mixed essence.

                       A shiver runs down your spine as the cold breeze brushes against your wet nub. With the presence of the breeze, you grow more aware of the thick layer of your combined sweat all over your body. Your mind is brought back to how Gorou was pressed up against you just a few seconds ago, moaning and whispering your name hotly by your ear as he drives his cock in your pussy.

              Your train of thoughts are cut off when you feel the familiar pair of arms which had once caged you underneath him enclose around your figure and pulled you until your chest met Gorou’s. A soft smile is plastered on his face.

  The soft glow the sun cast on his face melted your heart, and you mirror his smile with one of your own. Your hands find his neck and tug him until he leans down to your height. You can hear a steady thumping sound behind Gorou, and you had to stop yourself from bursting to fits of laughter and instead pressed a kiss against Gorou’s.

               When you pull away, your smile broadens and your pride expands as you saw the redness tinting on Gorou’s cheeks went a deeper shade, and yet the stupidly gleeful smile on his face has yet to leave.

                       “I can’t believe we did it so early in the morning.” You titter.

      “This isn’t the first time we’ve done it. Don’t complain now.” Chastise Gorou in a manner that was playful, teasing.

                                      “I wasn’t complaining.” You argue.

            Gorou stifles a laugh as he glances at the closed doors across the room. He nods towards it. “Maybe your staff will.”

                                Your lips tingles at the sensation of his lips upon yours earlier. The feeling is gradually fleeting away. You place your middle and forefinger on his cheek and forced him to look at you. His squished face looked at you, puzzled by your actions but soon melts into your touch when you kiss him once more.

           You try to pull away, but Gorou caught your jaw and pulled you back, kissing you. He opens his eyes as he retracted from you but leaving only an inch of distance from your lips. You can see yourself in the warmth of his eyes.

                                                Your heart flutters. You can never get enough of how Gorou always made you feel.

                            “I want to stay like this for a little longer.” You murmur; eyes half lidded.

                  Gorou smiles. “Then let’s.”

                                 The two of you stays in the embrace, marveling in the presence of the other and the afterglow of your earlier events. The soft chirping of the birds and billowing winds creating a song through the leaves – they all sound distant as your ears focused on Gorou’s heartbeat. It is steady, calm – comforting.

                                                        “I hope we stay like this forever.” You hear Gorou mumble. You look at him, expecting to see that small yet gentle smile on his face but there is apprehension in his eyes. Your mistake was is questioning it.

        “Do not worry, my love.” You say as your hand found his and interlaced your hands together. “Once all Visions are in my hands, and remove all threats to eternity, we’ll have all the time in the world. We can stay like this longer.”

                        You lean in to share a kiss with him, and because of your love for him, you did not feel the reluctance of his reciprocation.

              Gorou exhales and reaches to run the back of his fingers on your cheek. “I’ll miss this.”

                               ***

           The day after the morning you had with Gorou is rather uneventful, yet prosperous. Your endeavor to eternity has been more than fruitful. Everyday a new Vision is seized from the hands of the ones the other Archon found favor on and embezzled on the statue. You grow closer to your goal day by day with the help of your subordinates.

  You can already see, the future you wish your nation to attain gradually falling in your palms.

              Soon. You think. I will succeed. For my people, and for Gorou.

                           You look up at the night sky and breath in the cold air. Of course, you know the consequences of what will happen when one is stripped off their Vision, but that is all but a small sacrifice for what you wish for Inazuma. Your people will hate you – they already do – but they will understand that what cruelty they see in your actions is for the sake of the greater good.

  Your gaze oversees the city from the top of your abode and slowly trails over to the statue which beheld features strikingly similar to your own. As it should. The marble statue is made to glorify you, and the glittering Visions a warning to anyone who dares defies your orders.

                     You look down at your hand and a ball of black and lightning manifests over your palm. “One day they’ll see what I’m doing, and they shall thank me for it.” You close your hands and the object disappears in a puff of spoke.

      A knock on the door disturbed your musings, and with a simple command to the interrupting individual, the door opened and closed swiftly.

                                        Without turning to meet the face of the person, you spoke. “What have you come to inform me this time, Sara?”

              “Your Excellency,” She acknowledges. “I’ve come with terrible news.”

                           With that said, you snap your head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Speak.”

               Sara approaches you with quick and calculated steps. All you have ever seen on Sara’s face is her dedication to you and your vision for Inazuma. Rarely does she let a smile grace her lips. It was always solemnity and firmness gracing her face. But there is something odd in her expression. You just couldn’t quite understand it.

                                                Sara extends a hand towards you. Your sight falls to her open palm, only to find a familiar insignia in her hold. You picked it up with dainty fingers and examined the item. “The Sangonomiya . . . ” You mutter. With a quick work of your fingers, you toss the insignia up in the air and caught it in your hand quickly.

           “We found it stuck on the walls near the encampment along with a note that said to repeal the Vision Hunt Decree.” Answers Sara, frown deepening. “This is a declaration of war, your Excellency.”

                                                         You did not respond to her. You have anticipated this occurrence. You know at some point the people who oppose with your law would try to fight back. But you’ve prepared for such happening. You have calculated all possibilities that could lead to the overturning of eternity, and this is where the expertise of your lover comes to play.

                                     “Find Gorou and bring him here. I have to discuss this with him.” You look back down at the Sangonomiya insignia. “I trust he will give valuable advise as to how to approach this little setback.”

                          The oddity you had early seen on Sara’s face grew more apparent after your last statement. Uncertainty, that’s what it is.

                     “I’m afraid that is not possible.” Sara spouts.

          A frown formed on your face. “What do you mean?”

                                                              Conflict arises to her features, intermingling with the uncertainty but she composed herself and continues. “We found this in along with the Sangonomiya insignia.”

        Your heart dropped as Sara dug in her pocket to reveal a familiar looking collar. Your other hand reach for the object with trembling hands, but you do not have the courage to touch it. The collar is painfully familiar. You’ve never spent a day without admiring it around its owner’s neck. A simple yet delicately made collar meant as a sign of adoration, not possession. It’s why Gorou liked it. You can still remember the day you’ve given it to him and the smile on his face was something you would cherish for eternity.                

                                     “You mean . . . ” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You feel as though if you said it out loud, it would become real.

                        Sara nods stiffly. “We have that evidence to believe Gorou is part of the growing rebellion.”

               You close your eyes tightly. Your hands clench, the insignia in your hand digging into your skin. It hurt, but not as much as the betrayal of your lover.

                                           The moments you shared with him earlier soured, and the memories of him shattered, leaving you with an emptiness you knew he would leave.

                      You stare at the collar once more, the tightness in your chest worsening. He left his collar not as an act of betrayal to the Shogun, but to you, as a partner.

           “Your Excellency – ” Sara is cut off when your hand snatches the collar from her grasp. You can feel her eyes on you as your heated gaze burns on the item in your hand.

                                   It feels heavy despite the material being soft and light. With a cry of frustration, you throw the collar against the wall behind Sara. You don’t look back when the sharp and crisp crack of lightning erupting behind you as the collar met the polished walls reaches your ear.

                    “Fine.” You whisper to yourself. You venture out to you the wide terrace of your house and place your hands on the railings. The wind whips at your face harshly that you consider the possibility of the Anemo Archon mocking your pain. In a distance, you can hear a thunder rumble. The lights of the city were suddenly dull, leaving only the victories of your decree shining on your statue.

                                         “Gorou now is an enemy of the Raiden Shogun. Anyone who isn’t for me is against me.” You spit out. “Place a bounty over his head and stop at nothing to take down the rebellion.”

           You heard Sara state her compliance to your order and quickly flees the room to enact your wishes.

                    You did not let your eyes leave the Inazuma City. Everything you were doing are for your people, for the greater good of Inazuma. You’re not going to let Gorou take away the prosperous future you had in store for your nation simply because he wishes to keep his Vision.

                                                             ***

                                         You did not know why you found yourself entering your room. This is the last place you want to be in.

          You stand by the doorframe, unmoving. You scan the room with a look so solemnity and darkness. Every inch of it reeks of his scent, of the memories you shared with him. The laughter, the doting glances, the whispers in the night, the future the two of you constantly talk about, how he holds you when your dreadful thoughts looms over you – and it all ends in nothingness.

                         You take a step inside. The room is cold, too cold. It isn’t always like this. When Gorou in your room, it’s always warm, a complete contrast to the frigid coldness you emit.

  Your bed is neatly made, no trace of the events in the morning left. You did not know if you should rejoice or punish the servants who dare rid you of what possibly is the last salvation you have to becoming the ruler you did not want to be – a distant, and unfeeling Archon.

                You look at the wall opposite of your bed and your chest tightens. An empty display greets you.

                                    Gorou’s bow always rest upon the display when he comes home, to you. It is – was – a comfort to you, seeing his weapon mounted on the display. It reminded you that he’s home, that he’s with you.

                                  And now it stands empty, reminding you that he no longer finds home in you.

                                          You gaze at it, eyes losing their shine.

KITTEN

XIAO

It was no question Xiao despised unnecessary human interaction lest they are with individuals who he holds dear. He made his time with mortals scarce and flee from their presence once his initial task has been accomplished. He had no time to spare for uncomfortable idle conversations, the verbal showcase of gratitude even if their intent was sincere, the asking of undeserved blessings one seeks from their position - he cannot be bothered to deal with trivial matters. Socially inept with the species he shared uncannily close similarities with, it was not surprising that his regard for creatures, they be tamed or not, was far from ideal. In fact, it was worse. He has lived for long, grueling years and in those times, he has become familiarized with the nature of mortals, but animals are a different story.

Xiao had difficulty understanding your fondness on the purring feline nuzzled snuggly against your chest as you cooed at its appearance. You informed him of the kitten's attachment towards you after you have generously given him something to sate his hunger, and being the kind hearted woman you are, you will not stand for leaving behind helpless animals.

Xiao knew you have helped dogs and cats alike before, feeding them and helping them find a suitable home where they can be taken care of without any worries, but he has never seen a kitten so enamored with you when you've only done such a simple thing, at least compared to the other animals you've aided before.

"You're not planning on keeping that thing, right?" Questioned Xiao as he narrowed his eyes at the kitten in your arms.

You booped his nose lightly with your index fingers, and the kitten purred in delight at the action. "Of course, I am. I'm going be this kitty's mom, and you're going to be this kitty's dad! Aren't you excited?" You exclaimed, tittering.

Xiao gazed reluctantly at the kitten. The feline, feeling his eyes on him, turned his sights to Xiao and tilted his head in puzzlement.

"Yes," Xiao whispered, dread lacing on his tone of voice. "Very excited."

He always stayed far away from the kitten in the first few weeks of him living under the same roof as the two of you, and even from you if the kitten is anywhere near you - which he disliked. He may pretend to loathe the physical affection you offer him, and may even verbally protests if you eagerly continued to pursue him with hugs and kisses, but he knew that you understand he appreciated your affection. One can tell of how he readily accepts them.

But now the cat has everything he used to have - a little dramatic - and more than being fond of him, he was miffed by his very presence. The kitten stole from him your time and attention. It was absolutely unforgivable! Of course, he never said anything about this to you and opted pouting away his dilemma.

Another reason for his distance from the kitten was that he had no proper knowledge how to act around a kitten, or any animal for that matter, and feared he will hurt him.

Although Xiao kept his distance from the kitten, he was doing everything he can to ensure the kitten's safety and welfare. He fed him when you are out of the house, stored his weapon somewhere he cannot squeeze into and accidentally injure himself, kept an eye on him when he dare linger near the edge of the terrace in Wangshu Inn, anything to keep him alive, basically.

Everything that was important to you, was important to him. He won't allow anything bad happening to the kitten if it ever made you feel anything relatively sad.

You have made a remark about these actions of his but never once has owned up to it, stating only that it would be a hassle if some poor soul would have to clean up his corpse if he ever does end up perishing.

Bad choice of words.

"Are you . . . crying? Look, ( Your Name ). I didn't mean what I said. I'll . . . " A sigh. " . . . I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe, for you. I promise. Now, please stop crying."

You no longer dared to drop a comment about his actions. However, you never failed to note everything Xiao is doing for the white furred kitten, for you. And someday, you hoped he'll continue doing the same things but out of his love for you and the kitten. This small, fluffy animal will be a permanent and big part of your lives together. Whether he disliked the kitten or not, he had to grow used to him. And you knew he will.

The kitten was named Nix, and it didn't take much time for the kitten to learn his name. His ears perked up whenever his name is mentioned and after a while, he would approach you, meowing, knowing you were calling for him. But only you called him by his name. Xiao preferred to refer Nix in two terms - nuisance, or that thing. He was not warming up to Nix nor was he putting any effort into finding any good qualities in him. He was still just tolerating that thing for your sake.

"The nuisance is trying to kill itself from the rooftop." Stated Xiao one evening.

You let out a hum. "Nix just wanted to spend time with you, Xiao."

"I don't want that thing going anywhere near me."

Harsh his words may be, his actions screamed otherwise. In the rare occasions where he had to hold Nix or simply in situations Nix has decided to intrude in his personal space, the vigilant yaksha would be as gentle as a breeze, stroking the soft fur of Nix - awkwardly - before gently taking his in his hands and delicately placing him far away from him.

Xiao can hardly contain his displease with Nix, but the kitten, however, did not get the memo or he simply did not care. Nix will always find his way to come closer to Xiao, even if the latter always shooed him off.

"Don't you dare, Nix. You're going to get into trouble." You commanded quietly to the kitten, to which Nix ignored as he lowered his front and swung his tail side to side, preparing himself to pounce on an unsuspecting Xiao partaking a meal you've prepared for him.

Nix did not heed your demand and in a single leap, he soared into the air and allowed himself to fall on to the flimsy dining table. Xiao usually had his guard up for enemies, but in Wangshu Inn, and with you, he allows himself to ease down. Today was a bad time to do so, however.

Xiao was taken by surprise when the rickety table gave way when a ball of white fur haphazardly landed on the surface. A noise of a plate breaking echoed, and the food that he was once consuming now stuck to his face, all the while Nix was settling himself on his lap and taking a nap.

You hurried over to Xiao, concern and apprehension written all over his face. You handed him a napkin, eyebrows furrowed. "Xiao, are-are you okay?"

Xiao blinked once, twice, and casted his sights on the purring kitten who made himself feel at home on his lap. Mild disbelief and shock adorned his features, and the food that was slowly sliding from his face was completely ignored. He stared at Nix, lips parted.

You sucked in a deep breath as you braced for his hostile response, but to your surprise, he did nothing of the sort. In fact, he was doing absolutely nothing. He was still as a statue. Frozen in place.

You gazed at him, "Xiao?"

"The kitten . . . is he sleeping on my lap?"

You looked at Nix nestled on his lap, eyes closed and nuzzling against his lap.

"Uh, yeah, he is."

Xiao pursed his lips as he stared at the kitten with conflicting emotions, and it took you a while to realize why he looked so troubled.

Xiao did not find it amusing when you left him alone with a sleeping Nix on his lap. You knew he didn't have the heart to wake up Nix.

Nix has done everything to grab Xiao's attention. Being adorable wasn't getting his attention like it was getting yours, but acting out certainly does. That's what Nix came to learn.

Stealing his clothes, clawing at his spear until it fell, purposely closing in on the edge of the terrace to have the Adeptus take him far away from the edge, mewling at him in the middle of the night until he pet him, nibbling on the furniture or any object he frequently uses - everything and anything that evoked a reaction out of Xiao, Nix does. But the incident in the dining room fueled his attitude.

Nix still gave you his attention and love, of course, but mostly he's trying to get Xiao to pay attention to him.

Xiao grew used to Nix as more months came by. He was still awkward around him and put him on the reflection corner whenever he did something bad, but you can tell there was an improvement in their relationship, to which you rejoiced.

He no longer held an irritated mask over his featured whenever Nix approached him to sit on his lap or nuzzle on his side. He did not encourage the actions verbally, but he allowed him to stay wherever part of him Nix decided to perch on.

You smiled softly as Nix hopped on Xiao's shoulder as the immortal sat on the railing by the terrace, overlooking the surroundings of Wangshu Inn.

Xiao spared a gander at Nix, before slowly scratching him under his chin with his finger, and then resuming his previous business.

Nix mewled at him and nestled on his neck. You giggled. "So cute."

Like you promised to yourself, you never said anything about Xiao and Nix's relationship, but it did not evade your perception of how Xiao would wait for Nix every night on the rooftop to join him in his silent gazing, or how he would bring Nix some trinkets to play with when he comes back home from his Adeptus duties.

You didn't know exactly when his attitude towards Nix began changing, or what pushed him to slowly warm up to the kitten, and you didn't have to. You're just glad they were getting along now. Even Nix has slowly abandoned his naughty ways and has become more affectionate with Xiao.

The truth was, nothing special happened that caused their relationship to blossom. It just . . . happened.

Xiao was inexperienced with taking care of anything or anyone, even he cannot properly care for himself and always sought you to patch him up after a rough battle. Anything that he did not understand, he did not know how to handle, thus creating frustration. He was always someone everyone depended on, and he was good at what he does. So when Nix came and he saw how dead firm you are with keeping him, he was understandably anxious, frustrated, and afraid, though he tried not to show the latter much for your sake. It was difficult enough trying to keep you safe from his karma. What more taking care of a kitten so dear to you? It was even far more fragile than a mortal. Nix was so tiny and innocent looking, he was afraid of even touching him in fear of hurting him in some way.

But Nix possessed one similar attitude as you - persistent. Nix reminded of back when he had try to avoid you, to stop himself from getting attached. But he already was.

Nothing particular had to happen. Xiao has always been a gentle soul despite what he tries to portray himself as. It took him a while to accept the truth that he loved and cared about you, and the same happened with Nix.

Xiao used to loathe Nix's presence whenever he was on the rooftop. The kitten always tried to make a show of jumping from the edge, and never once showing any sign of fear because he knew Xiao would always catch him. But now he sought him in his time alone Nix never failed to show up on the rooftop after you fell asleep.

Nix used to make himself at home on his lap or shoulder but now he preferred to sit on top of his head where he can gaze with Xiao at the beauty of Liyue.

All Xiao needed was time, and now he has a small family with you.

DILUC

Diluc was in a similar situation as Xiao. You came home to him one day, desperately trying to hide something behind your back as you made your way to your shared room without raising any suspicion from him, the maids, and butlers. However, you failed to do so and he ended up staring at a ball of black fur curled up like a ball as you gazed up at him with puppy eyes.

He knew immediately just what you wanted.

"But Diluc, look," You whimpered, raising the kitten to his face. He leaned back a little, staring at the adorable face of a kitten who somehow possessed the roundest and most innocent pair of eyes. "He's so cute."

Although it broke his heart to see your crestfallen expression, Diluc had to be firm and told you that the two of you cannot keep it. A pet is a responsibility you can't uphold. You both have work, and it would be useless to have a pet that only grew up knowing the servants more than the two of you.

Much to his surprise, the sadness he saw on you disappeared as quickly as it came and his shock grew more so when you confidently agreed to his statement and claimed you'll put him in the animal shelter.

He believed you. Well, almost.

Coincidentally, you began receiving more duties as a Knight the day after you said so.

"Oh, Jean asked me to clear up some Hilichurls camps."

"I have to train some new recruits."

"I need to look into some new information about the Treasure Hoarders seen earlier around the gates."

It didn't take much time for him to know you've been lying to him and has been secretly been keeping the black kitten near Dawn Winery. You made another excuse, telling him you were going to help Kaeya patrol in Wolvendom, but he found the blue haired Captain shit faced drunk in the afternoon in his tavern.

Not only because of that and your suspicious behavior, but with his constant encounter with said kitten.

Whenever Diluc made his way to the city in the rocky path near Springvale, he would always catch sight of the black kitten peering at him from a careful distance behind tall grasses and bushes, meowing as though trying to get his attention.

For the most part, Diluc ignored the kitten and he tolerated his insistent following. But it became a rather toiling task having this kitten follow him. Not because he was bothering him, but because he seemed to have a knack for getting himself in danger.

Diluc has lost count of the times he went to the city in the same path only to have what was supposed to be a peaceful stroll ruined as the kitten finds himself surrounded by slimes or Hilichurls, sometimes both. His return to the Dawn Winery was the same ordeal, rescuing the kitten from a danger he kept venturing into.

Diluc let out a fatigued sigh as the last of the Hilichurls disappeared onto dusts. The kitten in his left hand squirmed in his gentle hold, meowing.

He looked at him, huffing. "How can such a small thing get into so much trouble?"

In the many times Diluc saved the kitten, he noticed a collar around his neck with a name engraved on it. Midnight was his name, and your name was written all over who was behind the making of this item.

Diluc let out a sigh, thinking - She's attached.

But even with that information, Diluc was still hesitant on keeping Midnight.

Diluc wanted to make you happy, he really does, but this responsibility was something he needed to thoroughly think. The reason for his hesitation was not because he disliked animals. He had a pet back when he was young and he was even taking care of a hawk. One animal companion was a lot of work but the hawk had its own habitat far from the winery, how much more difficult would it be if he decided to allow an indoor pet?

You two were busy with your own careers and cherished the moments you two shared together. Would he really want a pet who won't get the proper love and attention they truly deserved?

But he didn't want to completely take it off the table for consideration. Diluc knew how much you wanted to keep the kitten, and if you wanted him badly, you needed to show him you were capable.

That being said, Diluc watched you for weeks. He observed how dedicated you are with taking care of Midnight and adjusting your schedule to make time for Midnight. He watched how you groomed him, picked out foods for him - a very loving owner of a kitten you are.

And at the end of the third week of his observation and seeing how responsible you are, Diluc brought up the matter in dinner.

"I know you've been taking care of that kitten, and I know his name is Midnight." Diluc began. "Oh, don't act so surprised. You think I won't notice how you mysteriously disappear from time to time or how Jean has assigned you another commission to complete? You even have Midnight's fur on your clothes right now."

You looked down on your clothing and indeed, there were traces of black fur on the fabric.

"That-That isn't - "

Diluc reached forward and flicked your forehead, causing you to let out a small yelp and pout childishly at his actions.

You casted your gaze down. "I'm sorry. I know you said we can't keep the kitty, but . . . "

Diluc patiently waited for you to continue your sentence but when he came to an understanding you couldn't, he spoke up.

"I think . . . " He began, and you looked up at him, anticipating his next words. " . . . you've done very well taking care of Midnight even in your busy schedule, and you've done so without my help. Midnight looked healthy and happy. I think you are capable of taking care of him."

You stared at him, eyes dilating. "What-What are you trying to say?"

Diluc couldn't hide his smile at your growing excitement. He placed the wine glass in his hand on the table and resumed his statement. "You've proven to me you know the risks and responsibilities of taking care of an animal. I suppose I can be more open with having the kitten in our house. With that said, I'll help you in any way I can to - "

Before Diluc can finish his sentence, you have already lunged forward to kiss him.

Diluc was still troubled when you brought Midnight home, even if he did voice out his consent. He didn't know how to treat a kitten. He didn't know the signs of discomfort or joy, or what food they preferred or disliked. Midnight wasn't a hawk, he was a kitten! A very small and cute kitten!

So, he kept his distance from the cat momentarily to learn from you - watching how you handle the black furred feline in everything. Of course, he wasn't too distant. He was there whenever the kitten had done something right or wrong, or needed watching when you were gone. He interacted with Midnight, but stiffly so.

But Midnight did not care. He didn't even take notice of his awkwardness. He always approached him even in his busiest hours, wanting affection. He somehow found a way to sneak into his office, meowing loudly to catch his attention and either pawing at his coat or jumping on his desk.

Diluc had a difficult time trying to please Midnight by giving him treats and pets, while doing his work. Midnight would always be in his line of sight, staring at him. He didn't have to do anything else. His cuteness will do all the work. Diluc had to refrain himself from spoiling the kitten with love and treats.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Mew."

"Stop it. You're not getting any treats."

Despite it being hard to ignore him, Diluc managed to get through many days of Midnight trying to garner his attention. However, after his work and heroic duties, he'll find time to bond with you and Midnight.

As he grew more comfortable with Midnight and learning everything he has to know, the more attached Midnight became to him, much to your dismay.

Diluc leaves the door to his office open so Midnight won't have to struggle into whatever passage he squeeze into before. A maid once closed the door thinking Diluc had just forgotten to close it, and Midnight began throwing a tantrum outside the door, meowing loudly and scratching at the door. That incident led to Diluc apologizing to Midnight with pets, and had a cat door installed on the door.

Diluc always has a stash of treats ready for Midnight. Even if you tell him that Midnight shouldn't be given treats for being disobedient or that you two should watch his weight, Diluc will always surrender to the kitty eyes Midnight gives him and sneaks treats to him when you aren't looking. One would think it'd be Diluc who was going to be stopping you from giving every single treat there is to Midnight. Imagine their shock once they learned it was the opposite.

He sneakily bent down under the table to sneak a little snack for the meowing Midnight close to his shoe when you disappeared into the kitchen. Midnight gleefully takes the food from his fingers and heartily began nibbling on it. "Hurry up and eat it all before ( Your Name ) - "

"Did you say something, Diluc?"

"Nothing, love. Just telling Midnight he's not allowed to eat any more."

If Diluc considered a day good and no enemies were plotting against Mondstadt, he would take Midnight with him in the city. The kitten will be nestled in his breast pocket, and he would always pop his head out to look at whoever person Diluc was presently conversing with.

Midnight was very friendly with a certain Cavalry Captain. The moment he saw Kaeya seated by the bar, Midnight took off from his breast pocket to greet the blue haired Knight.

"Oh, who is this little fella?" Asked Kaeya. He reached out to pet Midnight, and the little rascal purred at his affection.

Diluc frowned at the reaction Kaeya garnered from Midnight.

"( Your Name ) and I adopted him a while ago." Diluc answered as he wiped the counter, eyes closed as he tried to push down the inkling jealousy in his chest. "His name is Midnight."

"Hmm, reminds me of a certain Dark Knight Hero." Remarked Kaeya, smirking.

Irritation swathed Diluc at Kaeya. He didn't know if it was because of his comment or the fact he had successfully and easily stolen Midnight's attention from him, but all he knew at that moment was that he wanted to take away the alcohol he has just given to him as petty revenge.

Diluc blinked when he felt something nudge his hand. He looked down at the counter to see Midnight by his hand, meowing as he looked up at him.

He let out a meow, before pushing his face against hand, as of trying to comfort him.

Diluc didn't say anything else. All he did was smile at Midnight.

That smile made Midnight completely ignore a pouting Kaeya as he presently followed Diluc wherever he goes in the tavern.

Midnight will match Diluc's emotions. If he is angry, he was angry too and would snarl at anyone that isn't him or you. If he was happy, Midnight will be playful, meowing and curling himself around his leg. If Diluc was feeling particularly more affectionate with you, Midnight will climb up to his neck and nuzzle his nose on him, purring. The latter you found mildly irritating, because Midnight was taking all of Diluc's attention. But nonetheless, you never said anything about it. Seeing Diluc dote on Midnight was quite adorable. You can already tell he'll make a good, slightly awkward father.

Just like Xiao, this man just needed some time to get used to your new pet. Though he only takes a shorter time to be fond of the kitten, he is just as loving and adoring to it as the Yaksha.

CHONGYUN

When you told him you were giving him a present, Chongyun certainly didn't think a kitten would be a possibility.

When you first showed him an orange and white furred kitten with a bright beam adorning your features, it took him a moment to process what was happening. His thoughts swirled around as his mind drew back to your previous conversations.

Has he mentioned anything about his liking for cats? Surely, he hasn't. Nobody knew he like cats, he rarely expressed how he feels about their cuteness, their squishy paws, and adorable purring -

"I've seen you play with some kittens at the docks, Chongyun." The light blue haired male flushed deep red at the revelation, to which you tittered at. "And you seemed so happy with them, so, here we are - "

You swore your heart did a leap when Chongyun's eyes shimmered with delight after his initial confusion and perplexity subsided. His eyes you've always found pretty, but when they shine with joy - oh, it was only a miracle how you didn't smother him in your arms. He gently reached out for the kitten in your hands and snuggled her to his chest. His eyes were uncertain but soft.

"Where did you find her?" Asked Chongyun as he used his index finger to scratch the chin of the kitten. The latter let out a satisfied mewl as she closed her eyes and relished on the affection he was giving.

You sat down beside Chongyun and placed your head over his shoulder, smiling as the kitten looked up at your boyfriend, purring. "She was roaming in my garden." You responded. "I was going to bring her to the animal shelter but then . . . "

Chongyun raised a brow. "Then?"

" . . . then I thought of you. Just thought you might want to take care of her, with me."

Chongyun tried to smother back his smile. "Thank you, I suppose." He stated. "What's her name again?"

"Well, I didn't think of one yet. I thought you could help me pick a name for her. It's like picking a name for our future kid - Chongyun? Chongyun!"

Chongyun never spoke about that day when he fell unconscious thinking about starting a family with you.

The name you chose for the kitten was Moon. None of you cared if it unoriginal or strange. You've agreed on that name for the reason she loved looking out the window at night with Chongyun only when the moon is present.

Chongyun fell in love with Moon the moment he laid eyes on her. Unlike the Diluc and Xiao, he was the quickest to accept and care for his kitten. It was expected. He spent a lot of times with the kittens and cats lingering at the docks, he knew how to take care of them. He had what they didn't. He had experience.

Chongyun can rarely be seen without Moon when inside the house. Moon have always favored Chongyun over you, and she didn't try to hide it. She always followed Chongyun wherever he goes, and throws a tantrum whenever he does his business in the comfort room.

Chongyun, in return, spoiled Moon rotten to the point where you had to sit him down and have a talk with him about decreasing the amount of treats given to Moon and keeping a lighter hold when he wants to hold her. You're always given a heart attack when you see Chongyun embracing the living soul out of Moon -

- but you can be exaggerating as Moon didn't seem to be trying to pull away from him.

"Chongyun, please," You reprimanded softly as Chongyun looked up at you, arms tightly embracing a purring Moon.

"Why? She doesn't seem bothered by it." Chongyun mused, gazing down at Moon. His smiled brightened as she rubbed her head on his palm. "See?"

Moon prefers to sit on Chongyun's shoulder. The reason for this is that in the time she lived with the two of you, Chongyun always placed her on his shoulder, and that's where she grew comfortable. She loved nuzzling on Chongyun's neck, sometimes even stretching herself or taking a nap on his shoulder to show how much she trusted him not to make her fall.

With that, Chongyun always made sure to wear clothing with a softer fabric and learned how to stay still as to not disturb Moon when she perches on his shoulder. It wasn't too hard to practice being still. He was a disciplined boy. The hardest thing was trying not to coo and pet Moon when she's on his shoulder.

Although you met Moon first, she bas certainly grew more attached with Chongyun. And certainly, they have more similarities, which Chongyun noticed first.

"I thought cats preferred warmth." You commented as you gazed at Chongyun and Moon just out on the porch of your house, playing with the snow around them.

"I guess Moon is just different." Chongyun remarked as he dumped a handful of snow on Moon. She excitedly shook the snow off of her and curled herself around Chongyun's arm.

Chongyun sometimes seeks solace from Moon when he has a disagreement with you. He knew it was impossible, but with how Moon was looking at him, it seemed like she was listening to him. After he's done speaking, Moon would comfort him by pawing at his chest until he embraced her.

Chongyun often brings out Moon with him in exorcising. Although there weren't much exorcising happening, him and Moon always have a great time together.

Xingqiu adored Moon the moment he laid eyes on her and Moon shared tbe same sentiment to the Hydro Vision user. However, their friendship soured when Moon saw Xingqiu forcing Chongyun to eat spicy food. Ever since then, Moon has been aloof with Xingqiu, and not even his treats can lure her to him.

Since then, Xingqiu has toned it back from making him consume spicy delicacies, to which Chongyun was thankful for.

Chongyun will easily be able to take care of your kitten and understand their behavior without problem.

ZHONGLI

Zhongli has been feeding a stray cat near Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. He first saw the feline when he saw Hu Tao cooing and petting it. The director informed that the cat had no collar, meaning it did not have a home and has chosen Wangshu Inn as its shelter.

Hu Tao ordered Zhongli to take care of the cat as long as it lingered near the Funeral Parlor. With the promise of a raise, Zhongli accepted the responsibility as the caretaker of the kitten.

Hu Tao told him the kitten was a girl, and named her Pom.

Zhongli was familiar with every animal that walked on Teyvat, and as someone who tries best to be with his people on land, he has sure encountered animals, cats and dogs most especially.

Although Zhongli has been caring for Pom for weeks now, treating her gently and giving her every needs and wants, it wasn't until you came by to visit him at work did he grew fond of Pom.

Zhongli couldn't forget the sparkle in your eyes when you saw Pom pawing at his face, trying to get his attention as he held her while working.

"Oh my goodness, is this the kitten you're talking about, Zhongli?" You asked as you bent down a little to get a better angle at looking at Pom.

Zhongli looked down to see Pom examining your face as she got closer and closer to you until her nose booped a little against yours. Your smile brightened at the little touch, and he chuckled at your reaction.

"Yes, her name is Pom. The director named her and she asked me to take care of her." Zhongli answered. "Would you like to hold her?"

Nodding eagerly, you stretched out your arms and Zhongli gently placed her in your arms.

Zhongli watched with a soft smile as you sat down on the couch in his personal office, treating her ever so gently.

Zhongli never thought he'd get to see this side of yours until you two decided to start a family of your own.

He already expected you to convince him to officially adopt Pom, and he was already one step ahead of you.

As soon the two of you stepped inside your house, you began pestering him about Pom.

"Please, please, sweetheart," You pleaded, gazing up at him from afar with your big, puppy eyes. "Let's adopt Pom."

"( Your Name ) - "

"I know, I know. You think it's not time for us yet and we have to discuss about this - "

You were left speechless when a fluffy head poked out of Zhongli's breast pocket, followed by an adorable purr that could only belong to the kitten you've spent hours adoring a few hours prior.

It was, at first, because of how Pom was making you so happy that made Zhongli grow fond of the kitten. But the more he spends time with Pom, the more he began falling in love with her.

Zhongli likes to have tea on the balcony. You always accompany him, and Pom in tow with you. But whenever you're not available, Pom never failed to keep him company.

She never disturbed the peace by creating a ruckus. She was always pleasant to be around with. There was the occasional curious nudge of an object here and there but most of the time, she was on the table near the cup of tea he was drinking.

Zhongli has to keep an eye out on his ponytail, however. Pom was a peaceful and gentle kitten, but somehow, the swaying of his ponytail attracted her and turned her to a mischievous little rascal.

The first incident that happened was when Zhongli brought back Pom so Hu Tao can spend time with her. When he left the Pyro Vision user and the kitten to make some tea, the next thing he knew was that his scalp tightened as his hair was viciously pulled by someone or something. His arms flailed as he tried to look over his shoulder to see the suspect holding on to his ponytail.

"Director, please, release my hair - "

"But Mister Zhongli, I'm right here."

Indeed, Hu Tao was seated on the same place he last saw her. She wore an amused grin as she stifled her laughter.

A mirror beside him helped him see the culprit hanging precariously as the tip of his ponytail with her short claws.

"Pom, please let go of my hair."

Pom responded by meowing innocently.

Zhongli was the opposite of the four. He understood discipline and he knew that spoiling any living being will lead to dislikable outcomes.

It was you that loved spoiling Pom. Every time he tells you not to give her more treats, he will always catch you in action sneaking more treats to Pom who eagerly eats them. He had a discussion with this about you but he understood the power Pom had with her cuteness. So, rather than telling you to lessen the treats to give her, Zhongli hides the treats somewhere you and Pom don't know.

He was only looking after her health. He wanted her to be healthy and live a long life with them, but Pom seemed to perceive his actions as devious.

She threw tantrums whenever she isn't given tons of treats - meowing loudly as she stepped over his paperwork, deliberately pushing off fragile furniture, refusing to eat her food. Many times Zhongli was tempted to give in to her wishes, but he always catch himself before he did.

Of course, Pom can never stay angry at Zhongli. She'll end up going after him after a moment of solitude, meowing in apology as she wraps herself around his leg.

The first time Pom met Childe, Zhongli was rendered speechless at how vicious she was to the Harbinger. Did she know Childe was part of the Fatui? How did she even know of the Fatuis?

"Aww, who is this cute little thing?" Childe cooed as he inched his face closer to Pom.

Pom snarled and hissed at Childe, baring her fangs at him. Zhongli had to stop her from clawing his face out by preventing her from even lifting her paws. Childe, however, either didn't notice or chose not to notice Pom's aggressive behavior towards him.

"Her name is Pom, and uh - Childe, what are you doing?"

Anxiously, Zhongli watched as Childe slowly moved his finger to boop Pom's small nose, still chirping at her adorable appearance. Pom did not look amused.

"Going to boop that little nose." Chimed Childe gleefully, beaming.

"I don't think that's a good idea. She doesn't trust you yet." Zhongli warned. As if on cue, Pom hissed at Childe once again, eyes turning to slits as she glowered at the Harbinger.

"Oh, come on, as soon I boop her little nose, she'll like me - "

Childe let out a terrified scream when Pom squeezed out of Zhongli's hands and pounced on his face, snarling.

"Get her off, get her off, get her off - "

It was only Zhongli's luck that he managed to pry off Pom before she could make any permanent damage on Childe's face.

Zhongli loved cuddling with you. Holding you reassures him you were safe, and that nothing can ever hurt you, not when he's there. But Pom's presence has altered his nightly ritual with with you.

Pom usually preferred taking a nap on the bed Zhongli provided for her but seeing you and him sleeping together, she just had to be a part of it.

At first, she slept above Zhongli's head, curled and comfortable. But it didn't take long for her to find home on Zhongli's chest, sometimes his face.

You never once dared help Zhongli whenever Pom decided to sleep on top of him, whether it be on his chest or face. It was hilarious to see him stiff as to not wake the kitten.

Zhongli is the most responsible cat owner compared to the three, but he does have his mischievous times with Pom from time to time, but he does it only when you aren't in sight. He'll be embarrassed if you see him being all silly with Pom.

You, Bennett, and Razor were an unusual trio, and many will attest to this statement. You differ in personalities and ambitions, even favoring completely contrasting delicacies, and yet there will never be a more lively and iconic dynamic than the three of you.

You and Bennett were the first one to meet when he rescued you from a group of vicious Electro Slimes. He was successful in his intent, but you had to escort him back to Mondstadt where he can be healed by the Deaconess.

You met Razor the next after you grew comfortable with your friendship with Bennett. The latter excitedly told you about another friend of his who resided in Wolvendom and was quite well acquainted with the wolves. Your first encounter with Razor was rather tense, and understandably so. He was wary of you, watching your every move as you strolled around Wolvendom with a gleeful Bennett who was oblivious to the atmosphere between the two of you. Most of his experience with humans are less than ideal but as Bennett unknowingly forced the two of you to spend time together, his walls slowly broke and he accepted you as one of his Lupicals.

As time passed and the three of you grow closer and closer together, a revelation descended upon you, and a startling one at that. You acquired feelings for both boys. It wasn't difficult for you to understand why you grew to like both of them. They were so easy to fall in love with. Bennett is an adventurous and motivated boy who, although had a streak of bad luck in him, has a positive spirit and is very generous and caring towards everyone. Razor is a strong yet gentle soul who is protective over those dear to him, and will always go out of his way to show his affection with his uncommon but innocent gifts.

Unbeknownst to you, the two share the same feelings for you. Bennett knew he liked you when you refused to leave after he saved you, even after he insisted this was a normal occurrence for him. Razor took a while to understand what was that hammering in his chest after you took the responsibility of caring for the wolf pups his Lupicals gave birth to.

It was an awkward situation for the three of you when Bennett and Razor decided to confess to you at the same. When the two of them professed their love for you and offered their gifts with bowed heads and tightly closed eyes, they slowly turned to look at each other with puzzlement, heads tilted and eyebrows furrowed. You, however, stood in front if them with redness coating your face and a thundering heartbeat.

"You like ( Your Name ) too, Razor?" Questioned Bennett, gaping at him.

Razor nodded once. "Like her, very."

Normally, when two people discover that the a close friend of theirs holds the same affection to their person of interest, a quarrel will ensue, and estrangement will follow. But Bennett and Razor were very unlike such an example and instead of compromising their close friendship, the two came to an agreement that whoever you should choose - if you indeed have feelings for one of them - they will remain friends and accept your decision.

Imagine the surprise on their faces when you leaned forward and gave each one of them a small peck on their nose, admitting shyly that you have feelings for both of them.

It took some time for the three of you to get used to your relationship. After all, none of you have ever been in a relationship before, not to mention there was the three of you in it. You carefully treaded through uncertainties and tribulations of inexperience, and it took a while but the you, Bennett, and Razor got the hang of how to make your relationship work.

Bennett is always the one dragging you and Razor to adventures. He will come knocking at your door with a wide grin, Razor lingering behind him and giving you a small smile and a shy wave.

"We're going to Windrise today! I heard some adventurers saying they spotted a weird looking Hilichurl with a briefcase! Wanna join us?" Asked Bennett excitedly, eyes shimmering.

Razor glanced at the other boy before returning his gaze at you with firmness. "I will protect you both. No worry."

You can't ever say no to them, especially when both of them look so happy and thrilled.

Razor is the protector of the relationship. With the dangerous enviroment he grew up in and the training he took under the supervision of a human, it was to be expected. He was always on the prowl, prepared to draw out his claymore and defend you and Bennett from any enemies with an evil intent.

You and Bennett are never worried of being attacked out of nowhere with Razor around you.

Razor takes his responsibility as your protector seriously. The rare times he and Bennett come over at your place, he will never allow himself to fall asleep and would sit by the window where he can oversee your residence. You and Bennett would have to drag him to your bed and convince him that you were in a safe enviroment to make him ease down and actually take a rest.

You three share the same bed, and it's always you in the middle. Bennett will cling on to your slumbering form and would snore from time to time, but when you stroke his hair or when Razor softly nudge his head against his, Bennett will quiet down for a while and continue snoring again after. Razor was quite a sight to see when sleeping. Being raised and cared for by wolves, it was to be expected he would mimic their position in sleeping. He would curl up beside you or Bennett, always nuzzling his face against the crook of your necks. You and Bennett will never say it but he looks so adorable when sleeping like that.

You and Razor know of Bennett's unluckiness. Unfortunately, because you're in a relationship, you two are more involved in his bad luck. Bennett is always guilty of putting the both of you in difficult situations and will apologize profusely, even when the two of you insist that it wasn't his fault.

"It kind of sucks that I'm also giving bad luck to the two of you. I mean, you're one of the few good things that ever happened in my life." He admitted in a gentle whisper, a pout forming on his visage as tears begin to appear at tbe corners of his eyes.

You and Razor felt like an arrow shot through your hearts at what he said and you spend your time cheering up Bennett. Although his unluckiness always seemed to hinder your attempts, Bennett appreciated and loved your efforts, which is enough to bring back his big smile.

When the rare times come when one of you are busy and cannot find time for the other two, the latter pair will frequently visit the missing member, often with gifts.

Bennett loves giving you kisses. Not just on the lips, but all over your face. When your relationship was still at the early stages, Bennett would lean forward towards your face and pull back after an awkward amount of time of hesitation. But when you told him that he is allowed to give you kisses and you would love to receive them, Bennett will take all the chances to shower you with kisses. He loves giving kisses more than receiving because he has so much love to give, but when you do the same to him, his cheeks will be painted in a rich scarlet color and his tongue will be tied, unable to anything except stammering.

"A-Ah, ( Your Name ), please, stop - " Stuttered Bennett as he covered his blushing face with his gloved hands, embarrassment palpable in his posture.

You let out a giggle as you took his hands and tried to pry them off. "Aww, don't be like that, Benny. Let me see your cute face. And I know you love my kisses."

Bennett splutteted.

Razor prefers to give you hugs over kisses. His hugs are big, warm, and welcoming. You'll always feel safe when you're in his arms. When you're in his embrace and you're both comfortable, you won't be leaving his arms for a while. Sometimes Bennett will wiggle himself into the embrace and the three of you just cuddle.

"You're so warm, Razor." You whispered as you nestled yourself on his chest.

Razor showed you a small smile. "I make you feel safe?"

You let out a laugh. "And loved."

More often than not, Bennett and Razor will convene and think of something to surprise you. These boys are filled with love for you that even if there's no occassion, they'll come together to buy you a gift they thought of together.

Bennett gives you trinkets from his solo adventures, but even if most of the time they're broken or burnt, you heartily accept them. Razor always gives you items that are found in the wild such as sweet flowers, mushrooms, pinecones, windwheel asters, sometimes wolfhooks, and if he was lucky, an abundant amount of fowls. You mentioned once how you needed ingredients to make food while you're out adventuring alone, or some things for this thing you call ascension. You love their gifts and always make good use of them or take good care of them.

Bennett had long introduced Razor to his dads (a group of adventurers who saved Bennett long ago). When he introduced you to them, you were immediately flocked and you regaled with tales of their adventures back when they were young, and Bennett was just a wee baby then. You stayed with them for hours, just listening. All the while, Bennett just enjoyed watching you get along with his family so well. Since the adventurers were old, you visit them often and help Bennett take care of them.

Some would think meeting Razor's family would be difficult. They are wolves, after all, and they were known for being vicious. But they couldn't be more wrong Anyone Razor trusted, the wolves trusted so they immeditely accepted you in their pack and treated you the way they treated Razor. They surround you whenever they sense danger, ready to pounce on whatever enemy emerges. The wolves would stay close by and let you snuggle into their fur when the weather is cold. Razor really likes it when you play with the wolf pups and help in hunting dinner for his family.

Bennett and Razor talk about you with their families. Bennett's dads approved of you the very second they saw a glimmer in his eyes when he mentions you, and even though the wolves cannot understand Razor's human speech, they can sense the love in his voice and the frequent drop of your name makes them understand it was directed to you.

" - she and Razor helped me fight an Abyss Mage earlier!" Bennett exclaimed, beaming. "If it weren't for them, I would've probably returned back here with more injuries, hehe."

"( Your Name ) made Bennett and me flower bracelets." Razor then proceeded to lift his arms to show the wolf pups the bracelet he mentioned. "Now, Razor need to take care of it, so me not moving around much."

The three of you always walk hand in hand together, you in the middle. You will swing your linked hands together and Bennett will follow your lead. You and Bennett will have to encourage Razor do the same and have to explain the process of it. Razor will be a little confused at first but then begin enjoy the hand swinging once he get used to it.

Dates are frequent, and it'll always be with the three of you. You all promised never to have a date with someone missing. There will be times where the boys will want a private date with you, but most of the time, it's always you three.

Bennett's dates are adventurous - of course - and unique. He'll find some place you haven't seen before or find an activity you three can try. You'll experience a lot of things in his dates, this includes being attacked out of nowhere and having to save Bennett from time to time. Nonetheless, his dates are always fun and will your heart palpitating.

Razor's dates are simple and peaceful. He'll find a nice and safe place with a beautiful view and the three of you have a picnic there. He's always the one preparing the food for you to eat, but you and Bennett will always bring desserts for Razor to try. Razor insisted that he wanted to learn more human dishes and he can find motivation in doing so by having you and Bennett eat them. His cookings at first were not up to standards - or consumption - but the more dates he arrange, the better he becomes. You mentioned once you liked his hash brown shaped as a puppy paw print and strived to perfect it. If you're lucky, he'll even bring a wolf pup or two.

In your dates, you always make sure you cater to your partners interests. You will do something Bennett likes to do, and then what Razor likes, and then something the three of you can bond over. With that, your dates are always chaotic (not as chaotic as Bennett's dates though) but extremely fun.

Bennett and Razor are suckers for your compliments. They always love getting them from you. Although the two have different ways of accepting them.

Bennett cannot easily accept compliments. It was rare for him to receive one with his bad luck and whenever he does get one, he malfunctions. What more if it comes from you?

Bennett will shake his head vigorously as redness painted his cheeks, waving his arms as though denying your compliment.

"( Your Name ), y-you can't mean that! I-I'm not that great!"

"But Benny," You cooed, as you leaned closer to him, smiling. "You're one of the best person I've ever met! You're kind, sweet and - "

As you continue praising him, Bennett will slowly, slowly accept your compliments, and you might not know, but your compliments are building his confidence in himself. Bennett is a happy and positive boy but his bad luck caused him so much troubles and backlash that his self esteem plummeted. Continue supporting and praising this boy, you're making him super happy.

"I guess I do have some good qualities . . . thanks ( Your Name ). You're really cool, too. And very pretty." Bennett admits as he rubbed the back of his head.

Razor's compliments to Bennett are simple and straightforward, and somehow Bennett accepts them easier than yours. Probably because it's simple and straightforward.

Unlike Bennett, Razor accepts your compliments with a smile and always returns your compliments with one of his own. He doesn't know why some people are embarrassed being complimented. It was a nice thing to do, after all.

"You're really strong, Razor!" You exclaimed after watching the Cryo Abyss Mage he was battlinng evaporate in thin air.

Razor faced you, a smile gracing his briks as he wiped a sweat from his brow. "Thank you. You strong too."

"I can fight Hilichurls, but I'll need some backup if it's Abyss Mages." You laughed. "But thanks, Razor!"

Razor and Bennett insisted that they help you train. You have seen how they fought and trained, and you were a bit reluctant because of its harshness, but after contemplating over its benefits like being able to defend yourself, helping more in adventures, and being able to finally properly protect Bennett and Razor, you accepted.

Bennett is very eager to teach you what he knows and has brought you and Razor to a nearby Hilichurl camp to showcase his abilities and give you pointers after. You and Razor end up carrying him back to the Mondstadt with his arms over your shoulders, the Hilichurl camp up in flames behind you two.

"Did I . . . defeat them?" Questioned Bennett. He couldn't lift his head from the exhaustion and pain.

"Yes, you definitely did." You answered.

Razor's training was a bit more proper but you haven't learned much because his training required claymore, and you were far from being a claymore user. Razor demonstrsted how to pick up a claymore but you couldn't even lift it off the ground.

You pouted as your hands lets go of the handle of the claymore. "I couldn't do it."

Razor approached you and patted your head. "Good effort. Maybe claymore not for you."

Bennett and Razor now always goes to you when they need patching up. Now, they could go and visit Barbara like they used to but they preferred that you tend to their wounds for two reasons. One, they love you and love spending time with you. Two, they get kisses on each wound you cover.

Bennett has a habit of running towards you and Razor at full speed and tackling you both down to the ground, hugging the two of you. You and Razor don't mind it and actually enjoy this sort of thing.

Razor named wolf pups after you and Bennett. This causes confusion when you visit him at Wolvendom.

"Bennett, sit." Ordered Razor.

Bennett and wolf pup Bennett both sat down at the same time.

"( Your Name ), stop playing with food." Razor reprimanded sternly.

You looked down at your plate of neatly cut steak strips while wolf pup ( Your Name ) who sat by your feet poking at the meat it was eating whimpered.

When a fight ensues between you three, it won't take long before you relent and make amends. You three have soft hearts and can never stay angry at each other for too long. You apologize and promise to be better and more understanding.

But if a fight arises between only a pair, the one who isn't part of the fight courts the other two to make up already. If you and Bennett have an argument, Razor will push Bennett to talk things out with you. If you and Razor are the ones in the argument, Bennett will panic and will have a hard time choosing who to approach first. You and Razor make up after the two of you try to comfort Bennett at the same time. If Bennett and Razor were the ones in an argument, you can easily talk to them individually and the two will approach the other and apologize.

Bennett and Razor never compete to be your favorite. They know you love both of them equally, and they love you just as much. You have never felt unloved when you're with them. You three are content and happy.

The most wholesome relationship ever.

"And you two got ambushed by a Geovishap - wait a minute - " Your eyelids curtained your retinas as your digits delicately massaged your temples, trying to ease the pressure in your head as Razor and Bennett averted their guilty gazes from you. Their skis were marred in cuts and bruises, their hair disheveled, and clothes torn from what you suspect were large and sharp claws from a humongous creature. " - how did you two even encounter . . . what was it again - a Geovishap? I know there isn't one in Mondstadt."

Bennett reached out to rub a his hand of his over his neck as he tried to dismiss the mystery at hand with a chuckle. "Uh, well, we kinda . . . " He trailed off, clearly not fond of the idea of continuing his sentence.

Your eye fluttered open and you lifted a brow at Bennett. "You what?"

Bennett opened his mouth to answer but right when you thought he was about to speak, he nudged Razor with his elbow and whispered, "You tell her."

Razor turned to you and looked at you with reluctant eyes, shoulders slackening. "Me and Bennett," He began, " - went to Liyue."

You let out a deep at their answer, your hands slipping from your hips. "I knew it. I heard the two of you talking about doing a commission there. I just didn't think you'd go through with it, and without mentioning it to me." You stated. "Do you know how worried I was when the two of you didn't visit me earlier? I had to learn from Katheryne you took on a commission."

Bennett and Razor casted their gazes away, guilt crowning their expression.

You heaved out a sigh. "At least you two are back safely. And alive."

You approached the two boys who have yet to return their sights on you and assessed their forms, scrutinizing each of them carefully. "You poor things. Those look painful." You murmured. "Need me to patch you up?"

Bennett's and Razor's eyes shimmered at your offer, and the two nodded eagerly in response. Any traces of shame vanquished for they know your disappointment has evaporated and they were forgiven. "Yes, please." The two answered in unison.

You permitted a small laugh to escape your lips. "Alright, alright," You tittered. "Follow me, then."

Before you can even move, Bennett interjected. "W-Will we still get kisses . . . " The white haired adventurer turned completely red as he realized how silly his words were. " . . . you know what I mean . . . "

Razor looked down, a shy expression encompassing his features, to which surprised you. "Razor wants kisses too . . . from ( Your Name )."

Your heart jumped in your chest at the sight of their hopeful and coy expressions. Even if you wanted to tease them a little for this as payback, your heart couldn't. You shook your head at them and clasped their cheeks, one hand on the other as you stared into their eyes.

"You two . . . " You whispered, breathing out. " . . . you make it so hard to be angry with you."

THOSE WHO WILL NOT CRY

     VENTI

            Although his wings that have soared through the vast open azure skies was as ancient as the winds that swept ever so delicately through the lands that made up Teyvat, although his curious viridescent hues have become quiet witnesses to numbers of renowned and untold tales of mortals across nations, no matter the countless years he devoted trying to cognize the mortals and their atypical behaviors, Barbatos – or Venti, as he refers to himself now – can never truly understand how so many human beings can stay in one place with one person.

                            Before he had even come to be the Anemo Archon, all that Venti knew was how to heed the call of the wind. To him, it was confounding how mortals do not have the similar urgency as he to follow the winds. Even when he had taken the form of his dearest friend, Himmel, and has elapsed through myriad of seasons and centuries, still he soared gently in the air, lyre in his possession as he sung melodies of his own composition and strummed symphonies for those who yearn to hear his voice, and with his braids billowing in his travel to a destination even he cannot tell yet.

            One has made an attempt - and unfortunately, a fruitless one - to make sense to him why some has gone against the heed of the wind, a very peculiar decision in the eyes of someone like him. His form nothing but a mere wisp at that time, nothing but a small creature with little understanding, and he remembered he was seated on the shoulder of his companion as they perched by the edge of a mountain, legs dangling and kicking gently back and forth. They basked in the caress of the wilting warmth as the sun bid its farewell.

                      Himmel was humming a tune with the corners of his mouth curving up and his eyes closed, and Venti's small frame thrummed with delight at the euphony he made.

                And in the serene quiet, his dear friend spoke, "Someday, you'll find yourself wanting to stay somewhere. For something, or for someone. You don't understand now, but when you come to love one thing, you'll always want to be close to their side." Himmel turned to him, a subdued smile etched across his features, and upon catching sight of the sincerity and fervor Himmel in his bright eyes, Venti cannot help but mirror his sentiments and reciprocate his smile the best he can with the body he manifested in.

     "When that day comes, you'll understand why many choose to . . . stay." Venti tilted his head to the side, and Himmel let out a small chuckle once he catches on the puzzlement that he displayed in his actions. "Don't look at me like that. I know you're curious about the whole marriage thing. Who knows, maybe someday you'll find yourself a nice fellow wisp and - "

            All it took for Himmel to cut his statement short and burst out in laughter was how Venti prodded against his neck as a feeble attempt to make him quiet down.

               And as Himmel has predicted, Venti - in time - did understood.

                        Venti was able to perceive the reasonings of mortals to turn their heads away from the beckon of the wind, to live a peaceful and quaint life, some alone, and some with their spouses. Himmel had done his absolute best to explain to him the wanders which are humans, and gleefully watched as Venti attentively listened to every word he spoke.

      However, at the end of the day, Venti was still a free spirit. He can never be tied down to one place, much more to another living being. He will always find himself favoring the whisper of the winds in Teyvat, adrift and letting himself go adrift.

            It was after he had witnessed the life in Himmel's eyes leave, heard his last breath, the whisper of the triumph of Mondstadt in achieving freedom, and his final request as he stroked Venti's quivering figure - A sad smile has been painted upon Himmel's brims as he gazed at the smaller entity weeping under his touch, "I ask only for one last favor from you, my dearest friend. Look after Mondstadt, after our people, for me, and never let everything we've sacrificed go for naught."

                          Venti was still a free spirit, but with what happened to Himmel, he longed to understand how he saw the world. It seemed he understood it differently than he did. And thus, he took the form of his beloved friend, and ventured closer than he had before to mortals.

      The day he found a place in The Seven, the fateful he became the Anemo Archon, Venti has not once missed an event with his people. He celebrated with them in festivities, cried with them in their sorrows, aided them in battles against transgressors or wars within their own mind. He laughed with them, ate with them, drank with them, and his love for his people grew everyday.

          But still, he can never stay for too long.

                      Venti tried to, he really did, for his friends, as his last gift before he lets go of the pain of losing him. But cannot force himself to remain in one place if his heart kept searching for places to explore, people to meet, discover the secrets of Teyvat.

    Hopelessness was beginning to gnaw inside him as hundred of years has passed, and he has already traveled through long distances and saw generation after generation of his people in Mondstadt, and yet nothing he has yet to fulfill his own promise to hos friend.

           Perhaps this was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe only mortals are giving the ability to be content and stay, but the Anemo Archon was forever to be appearing and disappearing - always, always stringing along with the wind.

                      And Venti believed that thought of his, and it stuck to him throughout many more years in Teyvat.

       Not even a dust of faith was left in the ruins of what he now thought of as a vanquished promise, marring Venti with a wound in his heart, and a doubt in his standing as an Archon. However, it was through this belief that took him by surprise when he met a rather strange woman at the last day of the Windblume Festival, and in Stormterror’s Lair, no less.

                    The Honorary Knight, and their odd traveling companion have long been gone after they bid him farewell and a safe travel in his return to his abode – or whatever dwelling was the closest he could denote as home – leaving Venti by himself to reminisce in the ruins of where Old Mondstadt once stood.

                                        The heavens were a color of black dotted with stars and the moon. The wind has grown softer, as though to accompany him in this lonesome hour, leaving chaste kisses against his pallid skin. From afar, the City of Mondstadt remains lit with lanterns and plethora of flowers. Even in this distance, he can oversee the joy that exuded from the people as they celebrated the remaining hours of the festival and take in the fragrance of the flowers friends and partners exchanged with one another. It was a beautiful sight to behold if one sits in such a desolate and dark place, in the very tower that he had confronted Stormterror – no, it was Dvalin now, Stormterror has perished along with the danger of the past.

                                        But a presence – curious, sorrowful – has intervened in the quiet evening Venti thought he had saved for himself. He stood up from the platform where he has previously perched upon and took off to take a gander in the Lair, and it did not take a moment longer for him to spot a figure nearby. There, standing on top of a boulder clad in a crestfallen expression was a lone woman. She was casting her gaze around Old Mondstadt, and the breeze blew her tears away,

            Venti had never seen her before. He had met every family, every person, in Old Mondstadt, and the same was to be said to the generation that followed after them. He knew them well, recalled their quirks and appearances, and this woman has no resemblance to any of them. Has she come from another nation?

                                   Venti made it his point to glide down and noiselessly land behind her, but it seems his efforts have failed him for this stranger spoke the second his feet made contact with the ground.

        "I wonder how this place used to be." You stated, and Venti was unsure whether you have felt his presence or you were speaking to yourself.

   “So, this is Old Mondstadt.” She stated in a murmur. Her voice was laced with awe, but with evidence of forlornity. “I heard rumors about what happened here, and-and the thing with Stormterror too. Archon, I wish someone would tell me the real story of the City of Freedom. Back in my home, we’re not even allowed to learn much about the Archons of other nations. It’d be foolish to just trust rumors.”

                                  There was something about her that piqued his interest. He did not know what it was. Maybe it was the way she talked about Mondstadt, her interest in the history of his city and his people, the sincere sorrow she felt for what the fallen tyrant of Mondstadt had had done to his former subjects, and how he had forced their hands to rebellion to protect their nation.

                            Venti spoke before he can stop to think. “If you’d like, I can retell the story of how Old Mondstadt came to be. I’m well versed in the history of this city, so rest assured everything you’ll hear is the truth.” He carved a smile to his lips. “And I am a Bard, so you have no need to worry about me chatting your ear off. All it takes is an audience and my lyre to get me started. Of course, a private performance will cost you, but since you’re new in the city, I suppose I can – ”

                                  His breath was taken away when the stranger turned to face him, and his words withered from his tongue. Ever seen a speechless bard? It was a sight people will scarcely see.

                Could he ever compose a song to even come close to the lovely view that was before his eyes? Gleaming curious pair of eyes, a smile so eager to listen, hair flitting with the wind as his heartbeat raced –

             Venti was used to captivating his audience with his songs and stories. However, this time, it was he who was captivated, and when he took out his lyre and played a sweet tune to sing the story of his beloved city, with this gorgeous woman listening to him with bright and shining eyes, Venti knew then that he wanted to play for her every song he knew, every story he saw and heard, to the end of time.

                            You told him your name after his song, and you came all the way from the isolated nation of Inazuma. It took him by surprise how you have confidence in him to reveal to him your identity and place of birth. Surely, not everyone will trust a stranger who has appeared out of nowhere who offered to sing them a song. But then again, Venti trusted you as quickly as you trusted him, and now it was his turn to listen as you confide in him.

  You have escaped from your home nation and survived out in the seas under the heat of the sun and threat of starvation for days until a compassionate Captain from Liyue, and her crew found you and delivered you to safety. And it was after your recovery that you fled to Mondstadt, the opposite of the nation you were born in.

                     Venti found himself sitting down in front of you as you told him your story, sight never leaving your frame as he did so. You were no Bard, and you were no storyteller, but he cannot tell the time or noticed the sun has set as you regaled him with story of Inazuma and your life after and before your escape. He was enchanted with the way you spoke, how you looked about Old Mondstadt with saddened awe, the fervidness in your voice – Have I found myself a rival? Thought Venti, eyes softening as you went on about your admiration for the affability and generosity his people have shown you.

                                                          When you left that day, you promised to come back and when you do, you shall ask him to sing to you more of his songs. At first, Venti was hesitant to believe your promise, but to his relief and happiness, when he saw you in the same place in the ruins undoubtedly waiting for him with your eyes closed and relishing in the wind that rushed past you. Venti always came to Stormterror’s Lair to oversee what remained of his old home, but for once, his sights were held torn and you have all his attention.

                   Seeing you keep your promise of return made his day, but when you whipped your head to face him with a smile, waving a hand as you asked him to sit with you, Venti knew that his heart desired yours. Was it a wise decision to fall for someone you've only just met? Certainly not, but he was an Archon who had too much time but too little for those who he holds dear. He cannot afford to be unsure when his time with you was limited.

     So, he decided – when the day is right and the wind is quiet, he shall make his feelings for you known.

            It became a routine for the two of you to meet in Stormterror’s Lair and share your stories with one another, Venti always telling his in songs, as a Bard would. There was never a dull moment between the two of you, and every story told in the ruins were to be fascinated of. And soon, it wasn't just stories. Soon, he was finding out more about you, knowing you better until he couldn't get you out of his head.

                  It became a routine for the two of you to meet in Stormterror’s Lair and share your stories with one another. Venti always told his in the form of songs, as a Bard would, you will always applaud him after, to which he would respond with a melodramatic bow. There was never a dull moment between the two of you, and every story spoke in the ruins and the silence of the night was to be fascinated of.  He was learning more about you, knowing you better, until he couldn’t get you out of his mind when his head falls against his pillow.

    Venti cherished these times he had with you. He knew it won't be long until you were gone. He knew his fate as an Archon – seeing loved ones perish and more to come, and the cycle continued.

                                           He hasn't even told you about his identity.

                          Venti was grateful for the Traveler for pushing him to tell you about his feelings and his standing in Teyvat, but he was still uncertain. What would you say if he confessed to you? What will you say if he admits to being the Anemo Archon? Will things change between the two of you? Will you leave? Venti can’t think about that.

                                                                       Venti grew worried when you didn’t come to Stormterror’s Lair one day, and then another, and his concern grew as days turned to weeks. Everyday he found himself visiting Stormterror’s Lair in hopes of seeing you waiting for him again, but he was always left disappointed. You did not mention going on an adventure or a commission, so his worry was warranted. Were you safe or were you simply sick of him?

                 When the day you finally appeared in the Lair, relief washed over Venti and he practically jumped off the broken tower he frequently resided and made haste towards you. But his footsteps faltered when he found no traces of a smile on your face. He can see the relief and joy, but the smile was absent. From that, Venti’s own beam wilted as he walked over to you with reluctant steps.

      When he came close to you, he opened his mouth to ask how you have faired for the past weeks and question your abrupt disappearance when you said something that took him by surprise.

                                    “I know who you are.”

          It felt like his entire world has stopped for a moment as he stared at you with disbelief smearing his countenance. How ever did you discover the truth? Certainly, he had similarities with his statues, but none of his people nor visitors from outside ever pieced the puzzle together.

                            He averted his gaze, ashamed. Why was he wallowing in shame? Or perhaps was this regret of not telling you sooner? Did you feel betrayed? Will you cast him away?

                      “But how . . . ”

                                            “The man at the Tavern told me, Master Diluc.” You answered. “I was telling him about you, and I guess he thought I already knew of you being the . . . Anemo Archon.”

           “Is that why you were gone for weeks?” Venti questioned, and when you nodded in response, he winced. He can’t help but think of the worse – She’ll leave me.

                          Venti looked away. “Ah, I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, it is hard to believe someone like me is an Archon.” He laughed out, but the humor was nonexistent in his statement. “So, how do you feel about that?”

                      Venti let out a gasp when you threw yourself to him and enveloped him in a tight hug. Venti froze at your actions and waited for you to withdraw, but when you did not, he slowly accepted your embrace with gratefulness. He didn’t know what you do this, but he was more than happy to reciprocate your actions before he lets you go.

        It won’t matter, anyway. He’ll hear the winds calling for him somewhere soon. Maybe letting you go now would hurt less in the long run.

                    “Are you not . . . angry?” Venti asked as he closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder.

                                    “Oh Archons, no, Venti. I could never hate you.” You assured him in a whisper and from the brokenness on your voice, Venti knew you were crying. “Those times you told me about Barbatos . . . all the stories about his past . . . everything he had gone through . . . ” You murmured, tone lowering. “ . . . you must have been so hurt and lonely.”

                                              He didn’t know why your words shot through him. He can feel tears streaming down his cheeks as memories of his past and the continuous pain of loss and regret caught up with him. Finally, after thousands of years, his false smile was shattered.

          How pathetic. He thought. An Archon weeping in front of a mortal that he is in love with. Could things get any worse?

                  Your hand stroked his hair, comforting him as he cried against your shoulder and in your arms.

                          “I was . . . ” He breathed out, choking as he tightened his grip around you. “ . . . it never stops hurting . . . I keep seeing Himmel, and everyone, and – ”

                He couldn’t finish what he was saying and just relished in the comfort of your arms, breathing in your scent.

                                    “I don’t understand what you’ve been going through these thousands of years, and I never will, but it’s okay now, Venti.” You whispered in his ear, and he can detect the compassion and love lacing your voice. His heart hammered against his chest. “You have me. You don’t have to pretend everything is okay. I’m here for you. I want you to be Venti and Barbatos with me, I want all of you.”

             He couldn’t believe his ears. Did he hear you correctly? You want him?

                    Venti gently retracted himself from you, but his arms remained at your sides. “You still want me, even after I kept this from you?”

         “I want you, Venti.” You clasped your hands over his shoulders, firmly looking into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere anymore. I’m staying here, with you.”

                 And so, you stayed, and so did he – it was the first time he stayed, and he will never regret it.

One would think that as a renowned Bard in Mondstadt, Venti would push for a grand wedding where all people of Mondstadt are invited to wine and dine together as bards banded together to regale everyone with their music, and as the Archon who values freedom above everything else, a big part of him wanted to. But he thought of you and what you wanted. It took some time for him to deliberate over how selfish it would be for him to make you uncomfortable in your wedding day and agree a small wedding would be a much better option considering how sacred and intimate marriage is.

However, knowing you cannot simply have the Anemo Archon go against his belief, and of course because of your love for him, you have secretly devised a plan with Jean and Kaeya to invite all the citizens of Mondstadt to your reception to celebrate this joyous occasion for the two of you. There was more than enough food and drinks to feast, courtesy of Master Diluc, and you’re sure Venti will be over the moon with this surprise. 

Venti had no family, and those he did consider as family were long gone, just a memory from the past. Even though it is unusual for a groom not to have a best man in his wedding day, Venti claimed he was fine without a best man. He had no doubts in marrying you. When he proposed to you, there was no touch of regret or doubt. Albeit reluctantly, you were in a mutual agreement in that matter, as well. Until, of course, an unexpected tribute arrived offering his services.

Venti was not the least nervous when the day of your wedding came. He did not waste time when he woke up and immediately got to work on his appearance. Jean was kind enough to have his wedding suit tailored for him, an early wedding gift, as she says.

Venti knew of the rule that a groom mustn’t see his bride in her wedding gown until the time she walks on the aisle. But he was just so thrilled for this day that he forgot all about it. And even if he did remember it, who in the world would stop him from seeing you? He has no best man to stop him anyway -

Venti almost choked to death when a hand came to grasp him by his the back of his collar, and he blubbered pathetically as he was thrown off balance and was dragged back to the altar.

“Who are - Master Diluc? What are you doing?”

Diluc let out a huff as he continued dragging Venti away from your house. “Stopping you from upsetting your bride. I’m sure you know that you shouldn’t see your bride in her gown before the wedding?”

“But Master Diluc, as much as I appreciate what you’re doing, you’re not in any position to - ”

“Actually, I am in a position where I’m allowed to stop you from making a mess of your wedding.” Said Diluc. “I’m your best man, after all.”

Venti couldn’t put to words how touched he was, and more so when you revealed to him after the wedding that Diluc has offered to be his best man by his own volition. As thanks, the next time Venti visited the tavern to drink, he paid for a single bottle of wine once. It wasn’t exactly ideal but considering how he had no original plan to pay Diluc for any of the drinks he will consume, this was as good as it gets.

When the doors opened to reveal you in your pretty white wedding dress, Venti swooned, and a large joyous smile stretched across his lips.

A gentle breeze swept in the altar and Venti felt his feet leave the ground briefly, floating in the air as he excitedly watched you walk down the aisle, and it took Diluc’s hand pulling him down by the back of his suit to stop him from floating up above the cathedral.

“My, my, if I knew any better, I would have thought the Archons have taken favor on me and blessed me with a beautiful bride.” Venti said once you join him in the altar and took your hands in his own. “You look beautiful, darling. I might just write another song about you.”

You shook your head, pink tinting your cheeks. “Haven’t you written enough songs about me?”

Venti inched his face close to you, his large smile altering to a soft smile. “There aren’t enough songs to tell you how much I adore you.”

The wedding went on, and when the two of you kissed, only one thing entered in Venti’s mind - I found my reason to stay, Himmel. I just hope you can see this.

The wind blew gently.

     KAEYA

                      Kaeya did not know what to feel when his brother has made it clear once and for all that he wanted nothing to do with him. His dismissive remarks, his heated glares, his cold and aloof treatment – he had known Diluc for so long, and his memories with him in their childhood never grew old in his mind, so it pained him to have his once bright-eyed sibling who aspired to be part of the Knight acting as though they were strangers. No, strangers would have been merciful. He acted as if the bond they had never meant anything to him, and casting him aside and seeing him under the light of contempt was the easiest decision he has ever made.

                                               Even you were not spared from the same fate. The three of you become inseparable the day you and Kaeya were introduced to each other. You’ve done everything together, and it would be a strange sight to see one missing from the group.

                When Diluc has cut ties with Kaeya, you suffered the same fate as he. You poor, poor thing – you tried your best to patch the friendship he no longer wanted to be part of, and Kaeya did not waste time running to your side and picking up the pieces Diluc shattered. It was not an easy feat for both of you to lose Diluc – he lost a brother, and you lost a good friend.

                                 But it was because of your fall out with him that you and he become closer than ever, closer than before, if that could even be possible. The two of you support one another and you go to each other when things get difficult.

             Kaeya will never admit it, and he would rather die than do, but he has loved you for many years. The moment Diluc pulled him into an unknown house, claiming that he wanted to meet someone important to him, and his eyes landed on your form with the sunrays kissing your skin, a wide smile stretching across your face, and a fake sword in your hand, his heart was taken.

                            You were one of the reasons he wanted to become a Knight. Diluc admitted his want to become a Knight, and you expressed the same sentiment, and of course, hearing his friend and brother say so, he became inclined of joining the Knights. I’ll get good training. He thought back then as stared at you, blushing as you braided Diluc’s hair. Then, I’ll be able to protect ( Your Name ).

        Now that Diluc no longer wanted to be in contact with you than more than is necessary, Kaeya grew to be more protective over you. He knew you can handle yourself as you were a Knight yourself and wields a Vision, too, but his heart clenches at the thought of you getting hurt when he could have easily had your back, like he always did.

                                                 Kaeya didn’t knowif you had feelings for him, or for anyone, for that matter. Many times he thought of confessing to you just to rip the band aid off, but he couldn’t. He’ll keep his feelings to himself and continue being the Cavalry Captain that everyone adored, and your own personal protector.

   But it was getting harder and harder to hide his feeling. Everyday he was always under the threat of falling deeper in love with you. Everyday, you always give him more reasons to love you. Waiting for him to come home after taking too long in his work, taking care of him after a nasty battle or when he’s drunk, always checking up on him even if your schedule was hectic, offering him help if you deem the responsibility given to him is too much. How much longer can he pretend that he wasn’t thinking of you everyday and every night?

                                He was pulled back from his train of thoughts when he felt a soft material doused in alcohol perch on the wound blemishing his skin. “Ah, be gentle, ( Your Name ),” Whined Kaeya, stilling himself to refrain from moving and delaying your nurse on his cuts.

                          “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had only been careful fighting those Abyss Mages.” You reprimanded with a stern glare. “Think of this as your punishment from me. Now, hold still.”

                      “I was fighting Abyss Mages and came back with small wounds. How am I not careful?”

       “You can be more careful.” Quipped you, and finding your chance, you pressed the cotton again his skin, causing the Cavalry Captain to hiss in pain.

                      “Ow, ow, ow – I said be gentle!”

                                         “Oh, you can fight Abyss Mages but can’t handle getting your wounds treated? What a baby.”

                        Kaeya pouted while you pulled away from him. “My dearest ( Your Name ) doesn’t love me anymore.” He cooed. “Tell me, what can I do to make it up to you, hmm?”

                                      You shook your head and placed your hand over his head, beaming. His heart leaped in his chest. “Stop being reckless.” You responded. “You’re the most important person to me, Kaeya. I don’t want to lose you too.”

             Days and days he spent thinking of what you said. He never truly knew how he important he was to you. The thought of that had him sleeping and dreaming of you and your smiles, how the days will be if you loved him the same way he loved you, and the fateful day you owned his heart.

   He had to thank Diluc for introducing him to you. He couldn’t imagine being in a world where he has no one to lean on when he lost the only family he had. You became his rock, someone he could lean on and trust. His friend who he loved more than he should have, the woman he wished to see in his arms someday.

                     But it will never be. He has to protect you. He is always in danger and he doesn’t want to hurt you more if he died and you two are in a relationship. And he had seen firsthand how affected you were when Diluc no longer wanted to be friends with you. He won’t let you go through the same pain if your relationship didn’t work. He loved you too much to let you suffer again.

                                  Kaeya didn’t think he would be able to thank Diluc again after their fall out but he was mistaken.

                            He didn’t know the full story of what had happened the night he got shitfaced drunk in the tavern but woke up the next day to learn he has revealed his feelings for you in front of his brother, and the latter had casually mentioned it to you when you dropped by the tavern to escort him back home.

                      Regret and frustration welled up inside of him and he spent ten minutes walking back in you guest room, trying to explain himself and perhaps even jest about having feels for you but his preparation was all futile when you opened the door just as he was about to.

               Before he can speak, you beat him to it.

        “The next time you get drunk like that, you’re sleeping on the couch.” You chastised, shaking your head and proceeding to turn your back to him to return downstairs. “Freshen up, and head down. I already cooked you breakfast, so hurry up before it gets cold.”

                                              Kaeya stared blankly at the spot you previously stood before smiling. He rushed over to the staircase and looked down to watch you descend the steps. “I won’t keep you long, love.”

                            His smile broadened when he saw redness rush to your cheeks.

Kaeya proposed to you in a way you expected him to propose to you. A fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant where he ordered a fancy bottle of wine and placed the fancy ring he bought into your glass. It was only because you knew him well that you have no accidentally imbibed the accessory. 

Upon receiving your answer to his proposal, the first thing Kaeya did the day after is hunt down for a best man. As a popular and charming Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, he thought it would be an easy task finding himself a best man but that notion gradually wilted as the date for your wedding approaches, he has yet to find someone to take the position.

In his pursuit for a best man, Kaeya came to realize something. His relationships with others aren’t exactly intimate. They drink and laugh together, but none of them really knew him. Kaeya couldn’t go to them with his personal problems or have their shoulders ready for him to cry on. They were good friends, but not people he would let inside his heart and vulnerability.

There were only two people who knew him behind the title of Cavalry Captain - you, and of course, his estranged brother, Diluc.

The very thought of Diluc sent a shiver down his spine. Diluc hated him and ( Your Name ). He pushed them away, treated them horridly, like they had been nothing to him but strangers with bad memories. Why would he want him to be his best man?

He remembered one day in Angel’s Share, he asked Venti if he could stand as his best man in the wedding and he swore he heard a glass dropping from behind the counter but when he turned, he saw Diluc wiping a wine glass with a blank expression. When Kaeya faced Venti once again, the excitement of being asked of such honorable position has withered and the Bard kindly declined before telling him to ask Diluc to be his best man. He did not.

Who cares about best man? The only thing important to me right now is marrying ( Your Name ).

But when the day of his wedding dawned, Kaeya was in a panic. Behind his charm was a man with a dark past, dark memories, and dark thoughts. He began doubting his ability to give you the life you deserve, began feeling insecurities he thought he had set aside.

He tried his best to remain calm, and for the most part, it worked. Everyone did not find something amiss when Kaeya was interacting with them before the wedding, but someone did, and that someone took him by his arm and dragged him a far and secluded corner after excusing him from who he was conversing with.

“Stop fidgeting with your tie, it’s beginning to bother me.”

Kaeya let out a huff. “Master Diluc, what a . . . surprise that you’re here.”

“You sent me an invitation.” The red head retaliated.

Kaeya had indeed sent him an invitation but he had no recollection of this or whatsoever. He was too wasted to remember.

“The Cavalry Captain losing his cool. Now this is a wedding just waiting to be ruined.”

It was almost like magic how the anxiety that has been eating him up vanished at his brother’s taunt. Kaeya glared at Diluc, opening his mouth to retaliate but before he can even let a single word move past his lips, Diluc turned his back to him and returned to the cathedral, leaving Kaeya in disbelief.

He let out a huff as he stared at his brother’s retreating form. “Bastard still knows me best.”

Kaeya has taken the reins over his emotions again, and he was sure he can keep his composure when you enter through the doors. But he was thoroughly mistaken as he swallowed the lump in his throat when his sight landed on you.

It felt like a dream. How can someone like you love him? In all his flaws, mistakes, and faults, how did you see him as someone you can lean on? Someone you want to spend the rest of your life with?

Surely, he must be dreaming. He’ll wake up in his bed any moment now and realize that everything had been the foolishness of his mind -

Except you continued making your way down aisle, and then you were in front of him with a veil covering your flushed face, and then he was slipping his hands in yours. This was real. You love him.

You leaned forward to him, nose brushing against his. “You look very dashing today, Kaeya.”

Kaeya chuckled. “And you look splendid today, Mrs. Alberich - oh, don’t go shy on me now.”

His smile broadened at the sight of your reddening cheeks. If it wasn’t for the priest speaking right now, he would have flipped over your veil and kiss you.

But there is plenty of time to do that. Kaeya will make sure of that.

     XINGQIU

          The youngest of the Guhua Clan will rarely be seen without a novel in hand. Everyday, Xingqiu will be seen with his friends with a book near him, always different from yesterday. He had read many novels and heard stories from storytellers, but one story he will never get tired of was his story with you.

       Although it may not seem like it, Xingqiu was a hopeless romantic, and he has always imagined seeking a woman to make his bride. However, it will always be something he can only imagine. As a heir of the Guhua Clan, he has responsibilities to keep and adhere, and he has willingly accepted this. Being given the freedom to choose his bride is something he cannot afford. When his father has informed him about offering him to a daughter of another prestigious clan, he has voiced his discontentment and disinclination to the arrangement but has nonetheless followed.

                  What a horror it would have been if he had followed through with the tiny voice inside his head saying to run away because if he did, he would have missed the chance of laying eyes on you and experiencing what many romance novels he read called – a heart skipping a beat.

           It was a tiring charade of formalities and display of pristine etiquette. All Xingqiu wanted was to retreat to a secluded area and continue immersing himself in the book he has picked up from the local library. With how often he reads, the novels in his own house he has already read, twice.

                                And so, he did. He kindly excused himself from the dinner between the families, making up a lie about feeling unwell and needing rest, and hurried over in the fields near his place. It is not exactly rude for him to skip dinner. It is not exactly ideal for his bride-to-be to be late in an important occasion like this so why shouldn’t he exhibit the same treatment as they did to him?

                    When he came to the spot be frequented, he caught sight of an unfamiliar figure from afar. A girl around his age sat on the bench under the tree, in the same spot he always occupied. She wore clothes similar to the families of the clan his family are negotiating with, so it didn’t take long for Xingqiu to learn this girl was related to them. He just didn’t know what her standing was with them.

 She was beautiful, he will admit, but it was the book in her hand that caught his attention. Thus, he approached her, adorning a friendly mask as to not scare her away. It is rather uncomfortable meeting strangers in the dark of the night and somewhere far from civilization.

           “Her hair billowed as she stood by the precipice, golden hues dimming in the dying light as she was left disappointed for yet another century. Her tears stung her skin and her throat tightened, but another century is simply common for someone like her. She will wait for his return, even if every mountain has eroded and all that was left of her was hope.” He recited a line from the novel as he took even ambles towards the girl, and he did not falter as she turned to face him. He offered her a smile and bowed with the elegance that his family taught. “Apologies for my disruption, my liege, but I can’t help but be thrilled to see someone with such incredible taste for literature. Not many are fond of historical fiction. Well, in my case, not many are into literature.”

                                        Her eyes appraised him with wonder as she perfected her posture. “That’s one of the lines in the book. My, even I haven’t memorized a single phrase from any of the books in my collections.” She remarked.

                                “I like to memorize a line or two from all the books I’ve read. It feels like a part of them will always be with me even if my memories fade in time.” Xingqiu gestured to the vacant spot beside her. “May I sit next to you?”

     She let out a laugh, to which sent shivers down Xingqiu’s spine. “You may. It’s not everyday I get to speak with someone with the same interests as me.”

                      He gladly seated himself beside her and immediately, he was greeted with the fragrance of flowers.

                    The girl extended her hand to him, smilingly softly at him. “My name is ( Your Name ),” She introduced herself. “You’re probably thinking you haven’t seen me around in Liyue, and you’re right. My family is here to meet with the Guhua Clan.”

                                                      Xingqiu took her hand and pressed a chaste kiss on the back. “Glad to make your acquaintance, my lady. My name is Xingqiu from the Guhua Clan.”

      Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “Is that so?” She mused. “Then, I must show my sincerest gratitude for letting my family into – ”

               “Ah, there’s no need for that,” Dismissed Xingqiu as he shook his head. “We’re far from the dinner they’re sharing together. No need to be so formal with me.”

          Her smile brightened. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along splendidly, Xingqiu.”

                        Upon returning together to his house and finding an excuse as to why Xingqiu had been outside did he and ( Your Name ) learn that it was them who were destined to be married when they are of age. The disappointment of meeting his soon-to-be bride has dissipated at the revelation, leaving him filled with utmost joy and pride as to having you as his, and from the shy and gleeful smile that wandered to your lips, Xingqiu can tell you think the same with him.

It was to be expected that the two of you will have a luxurious and grand wedding. With the two of you coming from wealthy families, it was no surprise. If you have insisted for a small wedding consisting only of close relatives and friends, your parents will fear some other elite clans will perceive this as them losing power and money and will take advantage of them or simply cut ties with them. You and Xingqiu had no other choice but to respect their requests. Although Xingqiu was secretly relieved you agreed to a big wedding. For him, you deserved only the best of the best, and in this case, larger is better.

Both families came to an agreement that it would be for the best if the two of you are not to see each other for the week before your wedding day. You found nothing wrong with this arrangement. Xingqiu, however, was the opposite of you.

Many times he tried to sneak out of his house to visit you in secret but Chongyun has thwarted this attempts many times. When he goes to adventures with the Traveler, he find himself missing you in mere hours. How can he survive a whole week without communicating with you?

Oh, how foolish of him. He was now allowed to visit you but he can, however, write letters to you.

For the whole week, Xingqiu will be writing to you without ceasing. You’ll have a difficult time keeping up with his letters but you’ll always find time to respond to him. After all, you missed him just as much as he missed you.

Xingqiu woke up before the sun can call for him. He walked around in his room, breathing in and out as he tried to soothe his joy. Chongyun, who was tasked to look after Xingqiu for the whole week, woke up from the sound of his footsteps. When he stepped inside his best friend’s room, Xingqiu held Chongyun’s hands and twirled him around, startling the half-asleep Cryo user.

“I’m getting married to ( Your Name ) today!”

“I know, Xingqiu. I’ve been stopping you from visiting her the whole week.”

Your wedding was held in a beautiful garden where cherry blossoms flutter and the wind was gentle and cool.

Xingqiu always held his composure in any situations and circumstances he encountered. But he was going to admit that seeing you in your wedding dress with the cherry blossoms kissing your skin and tresses every now and then had him malfunctioning.

It took a worse turn when you finally stood before him, expectantly looking at him. A compliment, a playful jest, a seductive remark - but there was none of that.

Xingqiu stared at you, eyes shining with admiration and his lips parted in pleasant surprise.

“Xingqiu, earth to Xingqiu,” You whispered. “You there?”

It was only after you spoke that Xingqiu snapped out of his stupor.

“Get yourself together, Xingqiu.” Stated Chongyun beside him in a whisper.

It took him a while to find him bearings but when he did, Xingqiu smiled at you and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“Beautiful, just like the first time I saw you.”

     SCARAMOUCHE

            Scaramouche has dedicated his entire life to seeing through what his majesty, the Tsaritsa, desired. His life shall be nothing but a pawn for her to use in her schemes and may her will be done through him and her subjects. If she must dispose of him to make success of her endeavor, Scaramouche will gladly surrender before her eyes and bare his neck for her to cut. He will do anything she commands without a second thought, and anyone who dares get in his way will face the wrath of an incensed Harbinger.                

         It was all about the Tsaritsa. His entire his existence is for his majesty. It was all he ever believed in when the honor of being the sixth Harbingers was crowned over him. With that said, Scaramouche can never bring himself to admit his resolve has been altered upon his discreet visitation to the City of Freedom to conduct a more intimate investigation over the meteorites and the impact it had on the people of Mondstadt.

                      His skull was throbbing, his thoughts scattered, and frustration was beginning to settle inside of him. Scaramouche has just dispatched his soldiers to continue their research on the meteors after his failed attempt to eliminate the traveler. He was left alone in the tranquility of the night, with the remnants of the astrologist’s escape glittering beneath his eyes, mocking him.

     “I should have acted quicker. The Traveler will continue foiling The Tsaritsa’s plans.” Mumbled Scaramouche to himself. “No matter. There will be another chance in the future to finish off the hero of Mondstadt, and I’m sure it’ll come sooner than I expect. I must prepare for that time. I can’t make this mistake again.”

                  A curious hum that echoed behind him had him stiffening in his place and drawing out his weapon from thin air. “Are you interested about the meteors too?” A voice asked.

          Scaramouche turned around, and he found a woman standing behind him a few meters away. She has a beauty that he favors, a smile so gentle that it thawed a bit of ice in his heart, but a scowl made its way to his countenance. She’s taller than me.

  She didn’t look particularly like anyone he would have any interest in knowing, and when she has introduced herself to him after he supplied her with no answer, Scaramouche predicted correctly. She was merely an ordinary folk in any ordinary city with no Vision or any skillset that could benefit him in anything.

                                                    “I must get going.” Curtly stated Scaramouche and he turned around without even bidding goodbye to the woman.

                          “So soon?” You asked. “I thought we could at least talk what’s been happening – about the meteors, the stars.”

              Scaramouche frowned at the mention of the latter and he spun back around to meet your gaze. “The stars? What about the stars?”

                                        You smiled a secret smile. “The stars . . . they’re fake.”

         Scaramouche stared at you with wonder and amusement in his dark hues. He has always believed in that notion, and only a handful came to agree with him. Now, here a lady stands before him, with nothing in particular to offer him, speaking of the truth many has rejected.

                      He examined you from head to toe, evaluating your form before beckoning you to come over to him, saying, “Perhaps I can spare some time to talk.”

                  What was supposed to be a conversation within an hour or so has extended for a day, and when you requested to accompany him back to ship docked in Liyue Harbor to continue your conversation (it surprised him but has nonetheless allowed you to tag along) about the meteors and the stars, it dragged on for weeks.

     But Scaramouche would be lying if he said that was all you discussed about. There was only so much information they can relate to the subject that has intertwined their fates that it did not take long for the two of you to stray from it to favor a more civil conversation. He learned of your mundane life back in Mondstadt where you were merely another dot in the bustle of the city and he managed to extract from you valuable material regarding the Honorary Knight (in truth, you have willingly told him everything you knew about the Hero of Mondstadt and this he was very pleased with). He learned about your family, your work, your past, and your ambition to adventure throughout the lands of Teyvat even without a Vision.

                He thought it was foolish of you to believe you can ever get out of your city without a Vision. There were too many enemies that a simple adventurer like you could easily be overwhelmed with. Not to mention the Fatuis that he and his fellow Harbingers has placed all throughout Teyvat. The thought of you getting hurt, especially by his own soldiers . . . it did not sit right with him.

                                 Arriving at Liyue Harbor, Scaramouche proposed that you come with him. It is no secret that anyone who do not possess a Vision cannot survive if they were ever to embark on a journey. Hearing your desire for an adventure, Scaramouche has come to decide that as gratitude for your pleasant company and for your compliance in giving him information about the renowned traveler, he shall take you along in his voyage, showing you the grandest landscapes, granting your every need and desires, all the while keeping you at his side where he was certain you were safe.

    It was all to thank you, nothing else. It wasn’t because Scaramouche knew he would find himself missing you and the comfort you bring when you leave, nor was it because he was fond of you. Yes, yes, all just to show his gratitude.

              As his soldiers watched as Scaramouche led you aboard in ship with his hand interlocked with yours, they thought the same thing – Scaramouche is never the one to show gratitude to anyone. You had him smitten.

How you were able to fall in love with Scaramouche in such a short period of time is fascinating. Especially with his horrid personality.

But he was different with you. He was gentle, caring, and never raised his voice. The insults remained but there was no venom behind them. It took you quite some time to get used to his belittling remarks but it didn’t evade your perception how Scaramouche begun lessening his insults, opting for a more playful jab instead.

He proposed to you over at dinner. He had just come back from an expedition and came home to a table filled with your cooking. As the two of you are exchanging your stories of what went with your lives when you two were separated, Scaramouche placed his chopsticks away, looked at you straight in the eyes and said, “Marry me.”

How can you say no to such a romantic proposal?

Actually, you made him redo his proposal before you accepted but nobody else has to know about that.

There was no best man for Scaramouche in your wedding. The man was feared by everyone, and his fellow Harbingers hated him. Childe did insist on being his best man at one point but he almost ended up being fried by a lightning bolt. Apparently, the 11th Harbinger pestered him for a whole week trying to convince him to let him be the best man so his actions were justified - just a little bit.

You have to give it to Scaramouche. Regardless of his busy schedule and the current predicament in Inazuma, he managed to find time and opportunity to plan your wedding and marry you without having to worry about the Electro Archon and her subjects.

Scaramouche scoffed at the tradition of not being able to see you on the very day of your wedding. What good would it be? You were going to be his wife, and he wanted to see his wife. He saw himself above tradition, and visited you first thing in the morning at the day of the wedding.

It was no question Scaramouche was an authoritative man but he was more so as he prepared himself for the wedding.

His maids ran about in the room, providing everything he needed and wanted. Scaramouche was not known for being compassionate, but this was the first time they’ve been on the receiving end of his wrath. Normally, he would ignore their existence and not even bother to call them by their names but today, he was different. He acted worse than when he comes home after a failed mission.

The maids knew he was beyond frustrated with the wedding. So, they called to ask for your help.

“Scaramouche, you’re scaring the maids.” You cooed as you came up behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

Scaramouche let out a scoff, but you felt his frame soften. He sat before a mirror, and he gazed at your reflection as he placed a hand over one of yours. “Even they weren’t so terrible with their jobs . . . ”

“You’re making things so hard for them. And for yourself too.” You stated. “Marrying me shouldn’t be hard, should it?”

That statement set Scaramouche right, and when you left to carry on with your own preparation and the maids returned to their duties, he was more civil with them. If that’s what you want, then he can endure it.

The hour has finally arrived. Scaramouche has faced many dangers in his life, but it was only now he felt restless. What is taking you so long? He thought you wanted to marry him. Then what’s warranting your late arrival?

At that thought, you finally appeared by the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in your hands. Everyone in the venue gaped at your beauty, and Scaramouche was thankful you had everyone gazing at you. He didn’t want them to see the dumbfounded and poorly hidden lovestruck expression that crossed his mien for a moment.

But a sense of pride also touched him. 

That’s my bride.

When the ceremony begins, you and Scaramouche were seated side by side. You smiled brightly at him when you sat, but he didn’t any indication that he saw your smile and continued giving his undivided attention on the person conducting your wedding. You pouted heavily at this but said nothing and followed his actions. However, your smile returned when you felt his fingers hooking with yours. It was a small improvement, but it was intimate and loving.

Scaramouche didn’t cry in your wedding but when his arms held you tightly to his chest when evening came and two of you lied down on your shared bed, it was enough for you to know he loved you as much as you loved him.

Maybe more so.

     RAZOR

   Razor rarely experience human interaction, and if he did, it would be abrupt and depending on how the communication was being dealt by both parties, it would either be Razor who parts from them first out of wariness or lacking knowledge of being social or the other would, most of the time for the reason they find it disturbing a human could act so much like a wolf. The humans Razor constantly encounter are the hunters from Springvale and due to their bellowing voices and violence against his Lupicals, he has limited his ventures to Mondstadt unless something calls for an emergency.

        Other than the man who gave him his name, Razor only knew a handful of people – six of them being the Traveler, Traveler’s companion, Bennett, Klee, her big brother Albedo, and the woman he sees as his mentor, Lisa. He can only ever let his guard down when around them, though he was still a wee bit cautious of Albedo whenever Klee drags him to his camp.

                          He didn’t think he could meet anyone else who can consider a Lupical. That was until he met you. You were taking a peaceful stroll around Wolvendom – Archons know why you chose the most avoided place in Mondstadt to walk through – at the same time he was hunting down boars for his Lupicals.

  There was no rescuing or danger involved when he met you. It was a simple encounter, to which Razor was pleasantly surprised with. In almost all occasions, when he is meeting a fellow human being, it would be under rather unusual circumstances. He met the Traveler and her floating friend when they were being attacked by slimes. He met Lisa when she has painted the skies dark as she was singlehandedly fending herself off from a mob of Hilichurls. He met Klee when she was using her bombs to fish. He met Albedo in the middle of a chaotic experiment to which resulted in an evacuation. He met Bennett when he was hanging upside down from a tree when he tried to take an apple from a high branch, and the tree was up in flames.

                   To say, meeting you normally was a breath of fresh air.

      The two of you hit it off almost immediately, or so that is what it seems to you. Although you consider Razor a good friend even in just the few days you have met, he was still very careful of you. He had been deceived by humans before and it may be a little unfair to you since he trusted the Traveler and Bennett almost in an instant, he must first know you are trustworthy.

  And indeed, you’ve proven yourself as such. Perhaps, more so than the Traveler. You have done everything to show him you have no ill intentions against him and his Lupicals – helped him in hunting for sustenance for his family even if you have to knowledge in hunting, helping him broaden his vocabulary, helping him read and write – but it was your sacrifice to protect them that made him truly open himself up to you.

             An Abyss Mage has appeared out of nowhere and has wreaked havoc in their residence. Razor can feel his heart thundering as he raced through Wolvendom along with a few of his Lupicals who he had gone out with to hunt. Upon arriving at their home, Razor has anticipated to see the grass painted with red and wounded wolves whimpering in pain as others try to battle against the Abyss Mage. But to his relief, such image was not implemented into reality. Instead, he found his Lupicals sleeping soundly in their den, and the remains of the Abyss Mage has slowly evaporated in thin air. As the particles gradually disappeared, they made way for your presence to be revealed.

           Razor let out a gasp when he laid eyes on you. Bruised, bleeding, exhausted, but smiling as you happily waved at him with the hand clutching your weapon.

                              You happily advanced towards him, tittering. Razor reached out to take your hand, and reluctantly asked of your welfare. Now he understood why humans ask how one is fairing when they are clearly unwell – they do not know what else to say.

                      “Why would you do that?” Razor questioned as he brought you far from his den to tend to your wounds without waking his family. “You are hurt now.”

    “I can’t let an Abyss Mage hurt your Lupical.” You answered firmly, the smile you wore dissipating as you gazed into his eyes. “I might not be as strong as the Honorary Knight or Acting Grand Master Jean, but I fought well.”

               What was this odd sensation he was feeling? This strong urge to protect you, to take you in his arms and never let you go – what was this? He has never felt like this before. So light, so . . . flustered. He thought this feeling would be gone after a few days, but months has passed and since then, the feeling became more prominent, stronger. All the time he could never get enough of you and there will always be that lingering trickle of pain in his chest when you have to leave for the day. Razor knew you would come back the day after when the night has gone, but it never stopped that little ache.

                          Razor understood that he lacked understanding of feelings, so he confided to Bennett about it. Bennett was almost as clueless as Razor about feelings – almost – but he did know when someone was taking a liking of someone in a more amorous manner. He has filled Razor about exactly what he was feeling for you, and not the kind of feeling that he has for him and the Traveler, but the kind of liking he would have towards a . . . girlfriend? (Bennett had to explain to him the meaning behind girlfriend and it was no easy task).

            “Liking someone like a girlfriend . . . ” Razor muttered, scrunching his face in puzzlement. “ . . . like a mate?”

                                 Bennett flushed at the word but nodded. “Yes, like a mate.”

                                                Bennett tried his best to help Razor confess to you, and this is where disaster happened. Since Razor is mostly uneducated in terms of romantic feelings, he did not feel any anxiety crawling up to him when he decided to admit his feelings to you. The problem is that he has decided to confess in a wrong time and in a difficult situation.

       “You should confess to her after you’ve saved her from danger!” Exclaimed Bennett, beaming at Razor.

                   The latter tilted his head to the side. “Razor doesn’t . . . get it.”

    “Well, in the books I’ve read, the guys confess to the girls they like in a dangerous time. I don’t know how that’s safe, but it works. But since we don’t want to hurt ( Your Name ), you’ll save her before confessing!”

                    Bless his innocent heart, Razor trusted Bennett’s word without a smidge of doubt. His opportunity to admit his feelings came when the two of you saw Reckless Pallad being surrounded by Hilichurls getting ready to pounce on him. The thing is you too knew your way around a battlefield and have efficiently begun fighting off the Hilichurls. Razor watched as you made quick work of rescuing Reckless Pallad and he didn’t even notice himself beginning to pout in disappointment until you were right in front of him again, worriedly gazing at him.

             “Razor, what’s wrong?” You questioned, appraising him. “You’re not injured, are you?”

                                     He shook his head. “Razor not injured.” He confirmed.

        “Well, that’s good, but why aren’t you moving? We need to save that man.”

                            “Razor wanted to confess to ( Your Name ) by saving her.”

       Razor explained the plan of his confession he conspired with Bennett, how he would save you from danger and tell you his everlasting love that he didn’t notice the redness tinting your cheeks and the wide smile stretching across your face.

           Razor only took note of the phenomenon occurring on your features when he has finished elaborating his scheme. He narrowed his eyes curiously. “Your face is all . . . red. Sick?” He asked.

                                                                         Razor didn’t have a chance to further speculate just exactly was ailing you before you took hold of his face and softly placed your lips against him, catching him off guard.

                                      There was a blossom in his chest when you kissed him – this is love, right? Razor decided there and then he liked this feeling of love.

                      Needless to say, Reckless Pallad was left alone for the Traveler to save. Again.

Razor had no idea what weddings were. He has never heard of such thing before. The first time he did learn about it was when he was hanging out with you and the Traveler. The latter mentioned that you and him are invited in a wedding. Razor tilted his head in confusion but when he turned to ask you what it was, he froze. Your eyes were shimmering with joy and excitement. Razor liked seeing you like that.

So when you were preoccupied, Razor asked the Traveler what a wedding was. Perhaps a wedding was some sort of food that he can find in the wild?

After Traveler has explained what weddings are and the concept of marriage as well, Razor did not waste time trying to propose to you. Since he had no money to buy a very expensive ring, he asked Bennett for help to find materials so he can make one of his own. In the end, they had Wagner help them form a ring. It wasn’t exactly the best looking but when Razor showed it to you and asked for your hand in marriage (Traveler helped him with his proposal speech and had to explain that asking for your hand doesn’t mean literal), and he saw the pure joy on your face, he thought it was pretty enough for you.

Razor didn’t know you were happy mostly because he proposed to you but you didn’t tell him. He looked so proud with the ring.

Your wedding was small and only a very few people were invited. Klee insisted on being one of the flower girls and Razor almost agreed until she began spouting about bombs which will detonate in the air and will explode with flowers. Albedo advised Razor not to make her one of the flower girls because Klee, for sure, will bring flower bombs (it will explode with flowers, but the explosion is still there).

Razor chose Bennett as his best man. That was supposed to be a good thing but when the two of those pair up together, they can tend to cause a lot of chaos, unintentionally.

At the day of the wedding, nearly all the invitees refuse to enter the cathedral as they claim there was danger inside. When Kaeya and Jean came to inspect this danger they speak of, both wielded their weapons once seeing a pack of wolves huddled at the front, just before the altar, with Bennett and Razor telling them to behave.

You had to explain to Razor why it was dangerous and made people uncomfortable when there are wolves present in the cathedral. Although Razor was understandably disappointed by this, he conceded and brought his Lupicals back to Wolvendom. To make it up to him, you promised a private celebration will be held in Wolvendom with nobody else but you, him, Bennett, and of course, his Lupicals.

Razor didn’t know why Bennett seemed more nervous than him when the two of them were standing by the altar. 

“I’m going to ruin your wedding, Razor! Aren’t you worried?”

“ . . . but you not ruining anything . . . ?”

When you finally arrived in the cathedral, Razor felt excitement surge in his body and he can hardly stop himself from squirming on his seat. 

But he wasn’t smiling. These emotions . . . he was having a hard time comprehending them. It was good, it was nice, but it was overwhelmingly so.

He could have cried, and he almost did but when you were before him, smiling at him, he couldn’t help but smile back.

His beautiful wife, his Lupical.

Bennett was the one who cried in your wedding.

     ALBEDO

                It was always a fascinating sight to see a traveler meandering through Dragonspine without minding the sheer cold or flawlessly fending themselves off from the enemies lurking around. Even Albedo has some degree of difficult in navigating his way back to his camp without the Fatui spotting him or tailing him. But it was more fascinating to see a young woman standing in the middle of a freezing lake with nothing but her trousers and her brassiere.

                            It was a peculiar meeting, yes, but out of the ordinary people and matters has always endeared him.

    Albedo brought you to his camp as quickly as he can and asked Timaeus to hand you a cup of warm tea and a blanket. After thanking him for his kindness and consuming half of the beverage generously given to you, you introduced yourself.

             You were an adventurer who came all the way from Liyue to embark on a journey to discover the harshness and secrets that laid within Dragonspine, a mountain many do not dare set foot further in. Other than the mentioned reasons, training was a top priority of yours. You claim one cannot go further in their adventure while being comfortable in their current, and he completely agrees with your statement. When Albedo questioned why you had been in the middle of a lake in Dragonspine, you answered that being able to withstand the cold was just part of your training and seeing as he had caught you shivering to close to death, it was not going well.

                            Albedo didn’t think he would see you again after you parted from him, but he was surprised when the next day he found you waiting for him in his camp, a smile on your face as you stand proudly and wave at him.

   Something about you piqued his interest, if his interest was somehow related to how his heart accelerated whenever you come close to him to offer help with his experiment, or when his face grows hot if you offer him a compliment. He thought it was your way of showing him your gratefulness for taking care of you yesterday, so he allowed your presence in his camp, around him. Albedo didn’t expect you to visit again the next day, and the day after that, and so on and so forth. But he can’t say he disliked your frequent visitations, or your presence that always seem to be following him everywhere he went. He very much liked your company and thoroughly enjoyed listening about your adventures and everything you came across in your adventure. They were a good distraction from his experiments. Everything about you set his mind in ease.

             It wasn’t long until the two of you are spending more time together alone. No experiments, no work in mind. It just the two of you keeping one another company and sharing stories about your days, and making banters here and there – whether it be in a walk under the moon, or sharing a meal in Good Hunter, or while he paints somewhere in Dragonspine.

                 Although Albedo was not well versed in the complexity of romance and has deemed relationships to be rather tedious to uphold, but he was knowledgeable enough to know that in the process of his growing friendship with you, he has caught feelings for you.

  This has certainly brought difficulty in his relationship with you. Albedo, although never verbally admitting so, has always thought of feelings as a nuisance. In a relationship, in his own observation, disadvantages trump over advantages. He had seen the irrationality that love has caused, the stupidity. His observation led him to one conclusion – other than being friends with people, relationships is not for him.

           You have put him in a challenging situation. It would have been easy to cut ties with you if you haven’t successfully infiltrated his walls and snaked your way in his heart. The very thought of pushing you away was repulsive to him. Seeing the hurt cross your features – it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

                      The interest he had for you was not interest at all. It was the beginning of love. He should have been more alert, and this wouldn’t have happened.

                                 What if you returned his feelings and your relationship did not work? There was no way your friendship could be salvaged. Isn’t it much better to remain as friends than risk ruining any chance of keeping you in his life?

  No, no, that would be insanely idiotic. It will eat him up. Thus, he treated his feelings for you like an experiment. Dipping carefully, testing the waters – confessing to you.

        He can construct a confession that will perfectly enunciate his feelings for you while emphasizing your freedom to reject him and his desire to remain good friends with you. Surely, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. All he needed is for you to let him down, and he will hope you can still see him the same way after.

            All his preparations, however, were thrown out of the window when you beat him to confessing.

   Albedo had no idea how struck his expression must have been with puzzlement, anxiety and flatter as he attentively listens to every word that leaves your lips. His heart pounded at everything you were saying – everything he adored about you, you adored about him. Being unable to speak his mind felt foreign to him. After you finished your confession, a beautiful red hue coloring your cheeks as you looked into his eyes with hopefully eyes, all he can do his open his mouth a smidge, and close, and then open again. He must have resembled a goldfish at that time.

                      Albedo couldn’t believe it. You loved him, and here he was expecting to be rejected and thinking relationships were a waste of time.

                                          He was in a dilemma now. Accept your feelings as his heart desired to, or gently reject you for practicality? Having a lover would complicate his life and he will risk so many things that he were used to just to be able to keep his relationship with you fruitful. Was he ready for something like that?

           This was the first time Albedo has listened to his heart. He still remembered how he cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours, muffling the gasp that tumbled out of you.

                                Albedo might be a stranger to romance but he is an Alchemist and risks are part of his job, and risking coming out of his comfort to be with you was something you deserve, and maybe something he deserved as well.

You knew Albedo was going to propose to you. He was always immersed in his experiments and research that you took the responsibility of tidying up his lab. It did not take long for you to find a small black box nestled in the back inside a drawer filled with haphazardly thrown papers and used pens.

Albedo knew that you knew he was going to propose to you. The two of you were taking a peaceful stroll around Dragonspine and after a heartfelt speech, he knelt down to one knee, he curiously watched as you malfunctioned right in front of him, trying to elect which route of surprise should you take before displaying a less then satisfactory theatrics of surprise.

Nonetheless, the two of you are still happy.

You and Albedo agreed that the two of you will have a small and private wedding. Klee, however, did not. She was less than thrilled to hear about that and went on a whole spiel of the reasons why you should have the biggest and most fun wedding ever, as she said.

“ - then where will a really, really tall wedding cake and Klee is going to make a bomb that will explode in the skies where it will burst out many pretty flower petals - ”

Jean promised the two of you that she will keep an eye on her at the day of the wedding.

Albedo is adamant on two things - a small wedding, and having no best man, and the latter had two reasons. Although he is highly respected in Mondstadt, there was no one he could ask to be best man, and the second reason is that he loves you and is certain that marrying you is something he wants. No doubts. He didn’t need a best man helping him in something he didn’t need help with.

Albedo was also not someone to conform to the ritual of not seeing the bride on the day of the wedding until the very ceremony, but for you, he begrudgingly followed.

On the day of the wedding, Albedo prepared himself without the help of anyone. He prepared his own clothes and had Klee braid his hair (it was a wee bit sloppy and Albedo fixed them when she had her back turned to him and gave her all the credit).

The man reached for the door to visit you but he let out a sigh when he realized that he cannot. He made a promise that today, the first time he’ll see you is when you walk down the aisle. He has to keep his promise. Not to mention Klee blocked his way and reminded him of that (tried to block).

Albedo was a patient man. Patience was nothing new to him. His research and experiments needed patience or they will ultimately fail. It came to the point where being impatient made him uncomfortable. That’s exactly what was happening when he was standing at the altar. Nobody, not even the observant Kaeya himself, can tell Albedo was beginning to lose his patience.

The day had been a little too long. He wanted to see you already. It didn’t matter if the ceremony would take a while before he can kiss you and call you his wife. He just wanted to see you again.

Albedo turned away the moment you stepped inside the cathedral. You were far from repulsive or ugly (and he can never think of you like that), but he had to cast his gaze somewhere but on you. He knew you’ll be beautiful in your wedding dress, but seeing you now with your adorable and shy smile, with Cecilia flowers in your hands, and your eyes fixated on him and only him - Albedo nearly lost his composure.

This time he was sure Kaeya saw it.

“Waah, big sister ( Your Name ) looks soooo pretty!” Klee cooed loudly, causing the guests to let out a few chuckles of amusement.

His impatience was beginning to pierce through him. The moment you faced him, Albedo did not waste time grabbing your hands, and once he did, you saw him visibly soften, as though a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders.

“What happened to you?” You asked, giggling.

Albedo returned your smile. “I’m just very happy to see you.”

The fervor that he exuded when he kissed you certainly supported his statement.

THOSE WHO WILL HIDE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RECEPTION TO CRY SOMEWHERE NO ONE CAN SEE THEM

     CHONGYUN

    Chongyun was known for two things – being an exorcist and having a type of condition that needed his keen observation and awareness.

       He has always disliked his condition. Whenever his Yang energy overwhelms, he must immediately consume an icy treat to be able to soothe his nerves. But it seems he can be thankful for it for this one time. If it wasn’t for his congenital positivity, he wouldn’t have stumbled across you, and your hundred homemade ice cream you smuggled out of your own home.

                      Chongyun had been hurrying to meet his friend at that day. He had just finished an exorcism somewhere in Qingce Village and was rushing to where he and Xingqiu usually meet in Liyue. He was already running late, and who knows what Xingqiu will do if he was late again. He let out a pained yelp when he crashed against your form when he made a sharp turn, and his Yang energy has never been in a more unstable state than when he saw you seated on the ground, groaning in pain, with peculiar looking containers littering the floor around you.

                   Chongyun had profusely apologized for his actions and assisted you in gathering all the belongings he had knocked off your possession. He felt the coldness in the small containers you once held and wondered what was inside. He hasn’t seen anything like this before. He knew his Yang energy was starting to ooze out of him but he underestimated its manifestation until you placed your hand over his forehead. He pulled back away instantly, startled by your actions, to which you immediately apologized.

        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated, light blue hair bobbing with his movements as he bowed his head over to you again and again, mortification palpable on his features. “I-I didn’t mean to run – ”

                        “No, no, I should be the one apologizing! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I put my hand on you all of a sudden – ” You were about to continue spewing apologies and explanations when you froze, concern etching across his face. “ - oh, hey, you’re really, really red. Are you okay?”

                  Even when it had been years since his encounter with you, he still gets embarrassed when he remembered that, and you and Xingqiu tease him about it.

                                           He explained to you then about his condition and when you offered him a container you owned containing ice cream you made, that’s when your friendship begun. When the two of you snuck out to a secluded area in Liyue Harbor to gorge on the tons of ice cream you have once again brought out of your house despite your mother’s warnings did he know it would be a friendship that will last long. His only regret was that he introduced you to Xingqiu, and now he must endure double the teasing.

                       One thing he appreciated about you was how ready you were whenever you were with him. You made it your point to know what can cause his condition to act up and soothe him by your words, and always having ice cream with you. And the best part was that the ice cream you give him is always homemade, made by you. His popsicles could never compete to your masterpiece.

    He never really thought of you as someone he would be romantically interested in. Sure, there were instances when his Yang energy would flare up because of having you by his side, when your smile brought upon his own, when his heart raced when you held his hand as the two of you were returning from a commission, when he gazed at you with adoration when you took care of him and fed him cold noodles when he was having a fever (he refused to eat hot noodles even in his illness). Surely, all friends do that with one another, right? And feeling this odd sensation in his chest was normal, right?

                      When he confided in Xingqiu with this, the boy laughed at his cluelessness. It wasn’t surprising. Chongyun did not have a lot of friends so distinguishing friendship and romance was not easy for him. The Hydro Vision holder filled him in with everything he has to know about relationships, and he used some pretty unconventional ways like giving him a too descriptive image of how a man and woman would kiss, and other explicit doings of adults.

         But it did bring light one thing – Chongyun liked you, and of course how he handled such revelation was, simply put, disastrous.

                                      His entire body felt hot, and he was stammering to the point even the ever so eloquent Xingqiu cannot understand him. Normally, when things get like this, he’ll rush over to your place and request for some of your delicious ice cream but seeing as you were somehow part of the reason for this, he had to rely on Xingqiu to take care of him.

                      After learning about his feelings for you, Chongyun have never been more uneasy around you, which was odd, and he was sure you’ve noticed, and yet has never dropped any comment about it.

                     He was always nervous around you. Blushing whenever you come close to him, jumping when you take his hand in his, stammering whenever you praise him for anything, feeling the need to run away if you ask him about how he was fairing – he has lost count just how many popsicles he has eaten just to keep his cool. He has stopped asking ice cream from you and declined any offer from you because he thought accepting your homemade ice creams could lead him to falling deeper in love with you until he couldn’t move on anymore.

             Chongyun didn’t notice your growing impatience. He was so immersed in his own feelings that he didn’t take into consideration how you felt whenever he flinched away from your touch and rejected your treats.

   It took Xingqiu for the growing tension between the two of you to alleviate. He made an elaborate plan to get the two of you together in an isolated place (a broom closet) and has made a claim not to let any of you go until the two of you have confessed your feelings with each other.

                      “Just tell me what’s wrong with you, Chongyun! Why are you acting so weird around me?” You asked him but he refused to answer you just as he refused to look at you.

      You let out a sigh as you reached out to take his hand but when he pulled away from your touch, that was the last straw.

               “If you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, just say so.”

          Alarmed, Chongyun faced you, stuttering. “No! Of course, I want to be friends with you - I mean, I don’t want to be friends - wait, that sounded wrong, and so bad - ”

   Your brows burrowed together in question. “You want to be friends but you don’t want to be friends?”

   Chongyun groaned as he buried his face on his hands. It’s now or never.

                “I like you, ( Your Name ).”

           The silence that followed was deafening for Chongyun. He removed his hands from his face and prepared himself to apologize and beg to continue being friends when he felt hands cup his face, and your lips pressing against his. It was a good thing you had ice cream on you even after he avoided you for weeks. He almost fainted in your arms if it wasn’t for you shoving a finger in his mouth with a scoop of ice cream. 

                                   It was one of the few times Chongyun was grateful for Xingqiu’s interest in romantic tropes because if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have left that room with a blushing but happy face with you.

      Xingqiu smirked as the two of you exited the room, hand in hand and redness coating your cheeks. “Well, well, well, look who - ”

                    “Shut up, Xingqiu,” You and Chongyun chorused. The two of you looked at each other out of surprise and then burst out laughing, all the while the Hydro Vision user stood by the side, sighing.

         “Now, I have to deal with these two’s teasing.”

When Chongyun realized he was ready to propose to you after years of being together, he asked Xingqiu to propose to you on his behalf.

His best friend nearly destroyed his book from whacking the Cryo user for thinking such an inane idea could work. Not only was it not romantic, it was also inappropriate. Xingqiu had to reprimand him for an entire hour proposing that idea but being a good best friend that he is despite his mischievous streak, he vowed to help the man propose to you.

It was no easy task and there were times where Chongyun held himself back and risking yet another proposal plan. He was thankful Xingqiu was well versed with romance and everything entailed with it and knew more ways to help him. After a countless of delays, Chongyun managed to get down on one knee one fine evening by the trails leading to Liyue Harbor, spew out affirmation of his love for you in stammers, and asked for your hand in marriage.

When you accepted his proposal and adorned your finger with the ring, Chongyun discreetly showed a thumbs up to a nearby bush. About three hands popped out from the leaves, offering the same action.

Xingqiu let out a sigh as Xiangling and Xinyan giggled. “Finally.” He breathed out. “Now, time for me to be his best man.”

Of course, Chongyun chose him as his best man. Who else would be a better choice than him? 

Chongyun is firm about Xingqiu being his best man but sometimes he can be a little bit . . . pushy, especially when it comes to something he believes in.

There was a tradition where he cannot see you for a whole week until the ceremony. Chongyun was mildly bothered by this arrangement but nonetheless, since you agree with it, he will respect your wishes and do the same. Xingqiu has over and over again tried to persuade him to visit you at home, and he made some interesting points why he should. He almost convinced him a few times but in the end, he refused to be lured in his trap and stopped the temptation of breaking his promise.

He missed you dearly, yes, and his patience will surely be rewarded soon.

Chongyun, as expected, was freaking out at the day of wedding. Marriage is a huge step for the both of you. You’re not going to regret marrying him, will you? What if this marriage didn’t work? He’ll lose you for you.

Xingqiu had to guide him away from the altar and to a corner for privacy. Other than you, Xingqiu was a person who had been when his condition start acting up and how it worked.

After successfully cooling him down with a popsicle, Xingqiu consoled Chongyun. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about back there but you have nothing to worry about. ( Your Name ) loves you.”

“What if it doesn’t work between us?”

“It will. I’ve seen how you two are. You’re perfect for each other. I think you already know that, and ( Your Name ) does too. Why would she accept your proposal if she didn’t think the two of you wouldn’t prosper together?”

Chongyun murmured. “Pity?”

If Xingqiu had a book with at that moment, he would have smacked Chongyun again.

Once his condition has subsided, Chongyun returned to the altar and Xingqiu stood behind him, waiting.

The moment you arrived, Chongyun can feel himself heating up and his heart pounding against his chest. It felt like his condition was acting up but he wasn’t feeling nauseous or at the edge of fainting. It was a pleasant sort of warmth, the warmth he felt when he first met you.

No. It was the same warmth that travels through his body whenever he sees you, but this time, it was stronger to the point he it almost felt like his condition.

Your smile immediately disappeared when you saw Chongyun flushed red and his eyes averting from yours.

Worry encapsulated you. “Is your condition acting up?” You asked in a whisper.

Chongyun blinked, puzzled. “What?”

Discreetly taking a gander at the audience completely unaware of your interaction, you slipped your hand under your dress and showed Chongyun was a small ice cream container.

“I brought this with me just in case.”

Chongyun decided he made the best decision of his life to marry you.

He took your hands in his and pressed a small kiss on top of one.

“Thank you, love.”

After the wedding, Chongyun immediately visited the comfort room. You tried to follow him but Xingqiu told you there was nothing to worry about, and he was right.

When he entered the comfort room, Chongyun locked the door behind him and headed straight to the sink to splash some water on his face.

One won’t be able to tell Chongyun was crying from the water streaming down his face.

He looked up at the mirror, staring at his reflection as he let out a small, and content sigh.

“I’m married. I’m married to her.” Chongyun tried to hold back his smile, but he failed. “She’s my . . . wife.”

And did it sound nice to call you his wife.

     XIAO

              It was his duties to Rex Lapis, to the thriving land of Liyue, that kept Xiao grounded and his mind temporarily fleeting away from the karmic debts that weighed on his shoulders. If it had not been for the responsibilities laid down on him, he was sure to have succumb to the consequences of his bloodshed from the past long ago. It was the reason behind his creation, to serve the people of Liyue and protect them from any transgressors or anything that could potentially lead to their destruction, and it was all he knew. His existence was all for Liyue, and to seek out the desires of Rex Lapis and accomplish them no matter how difficult and by what means.

    Day and night he oversees every part of Liyue and hears every call of his name and seeks refuge in Wangshu Inn. It was a cycle that has never changed ever since the gruesome war between gods has taken place in Teyvat, and all was same until that night when he heard a cry for help from a distant place, and rescued a strange maiden from the peril she found herself in.

                          Love at first sight disgusted him the most. He can understand, to some degree, that mortals can fall in love with people they have built a caring and trusting relationship with but falling in love with someone who one has no dust of knowledge of their identity was simply unwise and incomprehensible. And yet there he was, leaping from the precipice of a soaring mountain and securing the mortal in the middle of her fall.

               Xiao had no clue why it felt like time has stopped and they have gently floated in the air as he took a gander at the woman in his arms. Scratches littered her features, and twigs adorned her mop of hair, but she still shone brighter than the stars and moon behind her.

   He did not let her speak to him after he has placed her safely on solid ground and he quickly took his leave without even a glance back.

                          When he had painted the lands of Teyvat red with the other Yakshas, he did not blink an eye or feel a bead of sweat trail on the side of his face. But that woman has caused his chest to flutter, and he always find himself thinking back to the day he had saved her. If he had been like any other mortal which has sleep as a necessity, he would find himself thinking of you every morning and every night, longing for another chance to meet you again. What has she done to him? He already has to carry the burden of his sins, and now he must endure this painful curse she casted on him?

              But it didn’t matter now. She was already long gone, for all he knows, and he doesn’t even know her name.

    Xiao already came to accept that she was merely going to fleet away from his mind, a distant memory that his heart will ache every time he remembers her. He had many regrets in his lifetime, and this leaving her behind without knowing her name is one of them.

                                    But it seems to him that Rex Lapis has taken favor of him and has graced his undeserving existence. Xiao had just exterminated a Hilichurl camp getting increasingly close to Wangshu Inn when his ears preened and his pupils dilated – that voice, the same voice that he never thought he’d hear again, was calling out for him again. He did not find the time to dispose of the monsters in a more appropriate location where they will no longer continue their venture towards the inn, and quickly made his way to where he heard her.

           When he arrived, it did not take long for him to spot her standing perfectly still in front of him, hands behind her back. His eyes dilated as he took in her familiar form. Her tresses were no longer matted with twigs and mud, the scratches that once marred her skin no longer present, and a smile has replaced the cowering fear that adorned her visage before.

                   Xiao ignored the increasing heartbeat that drummed against his chest and surveyed the area with a flick of his spear. “There’s no danger.” He remarked after assessing the parameter, his mask dissipating into the night as he returned his gaze back at her.

       She rubbed her arm as she averted her eyes from him. “I spent months trying to find you again.” The mortal woman murmured. “When all has failed, I thought back to that night you saved me, and I called – and you came.”

                                         Xiao did not speak another word, but he was afraid that you can hear how loud his heart was racing. He needed to ignore his selfishness, he needed to leave. “If you’re not in any danger, then I’ll be leaving.”

  He turned around to do as he said, but his eyes widened when he felt your hand around his wrist.

                “Wait, please,” She pleaded, and when he looked over his shoulder, any resolve of leaving her again vanished. She was looking at him with hopeful and vibrant orbs. How can he ever let her down when she’s looking at him like that?

      Xiao let out a sigh and turned back around to meet her properly, but her hand never left him. Were you afraid he might disappear as quickly as he did like last time?

                                    “Don’t go.”

                   “Why not?” Xiao questioned. “If you know anything about an Adeptus, then you understand my duties.”

              She bit her lip as he withdrew her hold. Xiao missed the warmth she gave him already. “I know that but . . . ” She trailed off. “ . . . can I . . . at least know your name?”

                                                Xiao did not give her an answer.

            “Even if we never meet again, I want to at least know the name of man who saved me.” She mumbled softly. “But I’m afraid if I ever know your name, I’ll never get to think of any other man but you.”

                                                    Xiao appraised you, taking in her apprehensive frame. A mortal has fallen in love with an Adeptus? This was preposterous. He saved her months ago, and back then they shared little time together. Too little to gain feelings for him.

    But still, he found himself relenting to your wishes.

                                     “Xiao,” He answered. “My name is Xiao.”

            Don’t look for another man. I’m here. I’m staying.

                   That’s how he met his first and last love, ( Your Name ).

Xiao has lived in Teyvat for thousands of years and is knowledgeable of the culture of mortals, one of them being marriage. He had witnessed humans bounding themselves to another, promising to cherish them, protect them, to love them. For Xiao, marriage is something far from disgusting. Although he cannot understand the need for them to be together under an oath, it was undeniable that many great things and opportunities birthed from them.

However, no matter how beautiful it is for them, it will never stop perplexing Xiao. How is it that one can look at another and know that they’re the one? Are they not afraid to be betrayed? Are humans so willing to have themselves get hurt and offer forgiveness for the sake of love? It’s confusing for him.

Not until you came along that it made sense. Every argument, every disagreement, sleepless nights, every sincere apology, every countless forgiveness, every embrace, every kiss - is this what mortals feel? If so, he’ll endure all the hardships of love if it means staying by your side, and he knew that you feel the same.

Unfortunately, Xiao is not one for marriage.

Not that he does not love you - oh Archons, because he did, deeply so - but the consequences of your relationship always hang in front of him.

 It’s already a risk to let you in his heart and love someone as sinful as him, but the thought of you bearing his karmic debt terrified him.

What happens if the two of you are bound together, and under a contract that Rex Lapis will surely oversee? Will the demons that torment him sink their teeth on your pure and innocent soul? Will he see the life in your eyes wither as you strive to remain with him? And what if you try to break the contract to escape karma? Will the both of you suffer in karma and the wrath of the rock?

Xiao can’t do that to you. This is one way he can guarantee your safety. It hurts him to know he cannot marry you, and it hurt more when he saw the disappointment and pain in your eyes when he explained himself. But keeping you safe is his top priority. He deserved this punishment, he can’t put it over your shoulders too.

But that didn’t stop Xiao from imagining how your wedding could have been if things we’re a little different.

A small wedding in a place of your choice with only a handful of close friends and families. You’ll wear a gorgeous dress and walk up to where he is with the same smile you wore when he met you for the second time.

As you stand before him, Xiao could only imagine the happiness and contentment he would feel at that time. 

He’ll hold you close, hear you laugh, and then he’ll press his lips against yours, sealing you to a promise that everything that he is, and everything that he has, is yours.

He’ll find himself retreating somewhere private. He didn’t want you to see him vulnerable, weak, as he cried for the first time in his life, and for the greatest reason.

He could have a chance of happiness, but he can’t.

It was all a dream.

A dream he will never achieve, a dream of yours that he can never grant.

“Xiao, you’re still awake?”

The man looked away from the moon and looked over his shoulder to see you standing by the threshold leading to the terrace. You were tired, and yet you woke up to tend to him. 

“You know I don’t need sleep.”

“But you always lie next to me. What’s wrong? Something bothering you?”

Xiao did not respond, and you didn’t push any further. He adored it how you know when to prod to a subject or not. You know him so well.

After a moment of silence, you walked over to him and sat  beside him on the railing. You looked up at the moon, and Xiao slowly placed his head over your shoulder.

He felt at peace.

Xiao closed his eyes, dreaming of a day that will never come when he can marry you without anything holding him back.

     KAZUHA

                        Kazuha can no longer remember how long it has been since he was on the run from the shogunate. The Electro Archon and her subjects are on the hunt for Visions of every single person residing in the walls of Inazuma, and he was one of the few who refused to have their Visions confiscated from them. It seems exiling him from his homeland was no longer sufficient and the said Archon has ordered for every so-called transgressor that they banished to be apprehended and have their Visions forcefully taken from them. It was only his luck that Beidou, and the crew she captained, has taken him under their wing and he has been sailing the seas with them since then.

            Has it been months? Days? Or perhaps weeks? Being away from land with nothing but the ocean to take in and his mind seemingly always preoccupied with his doubts and worries has him losing track of time.

   In all honesty, he doesn’t remember the last time he stepped on dry land. Perhaps they did, but it was not a memory that has fleeted a long time ago. All he can think about was Inazuma, the threat of being having his Vision taken, and his past he buried deep within the back of his mind.

            Beidou must have taken notice of his continuous lackluster attitude and has set sail for Liyue for him to take a break from the seas. This, of course, he appreciated though he insisted Beidou that she did not have to dock just for him to clear his mind.

          Back at that time Beidou claimed she knew what is best for him and she should put his trust on him, and with the lack of reasons to refute her statement, Kazuha merely let out a sigh and agreed to land in Liyue.

                         He has never been to Liyue, or to put it more accurately, he has never stepped foot in in the few times the Crux made their return on Liyue. It wasn’t because he hated it there, but he felt more comfortable and more at home inside the ship. The furthest he has gone was on the docks to help the crew load supplies in their next sail. But now Beidou has encouraged him to leave the ship and explore, and implied being forbidden to come aboard if he refused to do as she says.

       When Beidou said she knows what is best for him, maybe she was right. He must admit, even if he was still longing to return to his homeland, Liyue had many sights and delicacies to offer. But the best and most beautiful sight he saw was up on a rooftop when he was resting from hours of mindless meandering in the streets.

                                                              He played with a green leaf that fluttered over to him after it has been carried away by the wind from its tree, and he pressed his lips against it to whistle a melody. The tune was buried under the bustle of the city night but it seems that one picked it up from the terrace just below him.

                    Kazuha saw a girl around his age walk out to the terrace, head moving left and right, as though looking for something. Kazuha did not think much of this behavior assuming she was searching for something else, and he tore his eyes away from her and nonchalantly continued to whistle against the leaf.

                                           “So, that was you who was making that beautiful sound.”

                Kazuha casted his gaze down to see the girl on the terrace looking up at him as she leaned against the railing with her arms crossed, a gleeful smile present on her brims. He pulled the leaf from his lips as he regarded her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”          

          She shook her head, chuckling. “No, no, it’s fine. You can stay there.” She assured, and Kazuha eased on his spot. She stared at the leaf in his hand. “I didn’t know you can make a tune using a leaf.”

                      Kazuha flashed her a small smile. “It’s something only a few can do. It’s pretty hard to master.”

                     “And you’re one of those few.” She remarked. Silence prevailed between the two until she spoke again. “Can you play something for me?”

      Kazuha was bewildered by her request. It wasn’t common to find a foreigner sitting on the rooftop of her household. One would think that their first reaction should be an accusation of trespassing and a demand for identification, but no. This girl was different, you were different.

                    Kazuha did not question your request, just as you have not questioned him of his place on your rooftop. Instead, he granted your wish. He pressed the leaf against his lips and blew, a tune of his own composition sounding in the air.

      He watched in awe as you raised both your hands to your chest and white particles formed above your palm, creating a shape until it formed and bloomed into an elegant wooden lyre. Without saying anything else, you strum the strings along with his tune, and the people of Liyue beneath their feet are unaware of the small haven the two of them created together.

               Kazuha is more than grateful for Beidou for pushing him to go to Liyue. Ever since that night, he has made constant visits to your house. Early in the morning – that’s when Beidou would barge into the barracks and force them out of their beds – he would always be the one out of the door to finish his tasks and leave immediately to visit you, a prominent smile over his face. The crew, of course, has pestered him to tell him of the reason for his constant leaving and he could only let out a sigh of relief when Beidou shooed them away from him and asked them to return to their work. She winked at him right after and whispered, “Go and hurry to your girlfriend.” To which he denied with a shy grumble before making haste to Liyue.

                               Liyue was brighter than the isolationist Inazuma has become, and one of the reasons Kazuha thought this was you. The Crux was like a family to him, and Beidou was like an older sister to him, but you – he has never felt more soothed than in your presence. You felt like home, and it has been so long since he had felt like he was at home. Seeing you smile, hearing you laugh, seeing how you nod attentively as he talked, your arms embracing him when he opened up to you about his past, the music you played together in perfect harmony even without practice – it was all so surreal.

        Kazuha didn’t have to tell you about his growing feelings for you. He knew that you knew.

  It started with a shy kiss, and then a longer one, and the two of you found solace in each other’s arms. There was no music playing, and there were no stories shared – just him with his arms around your figure and lips connected with yours. None of you dare say it but your days together were slowly coming to an end, and it won’t be long until the day comes when he has to set sail to visit neighboring nations.

                  But Kazuha will always come back to you, that he promises.

After a few years of frequent visiting and writing letters to one another, Kazuha has finally decided that it was time for him to propose to you. Beidou - being the supportive big sister she is to him - upon hearing of his plan, gathered her crew to help Kazuha in his objective. Everything from food, drinks, location (they chose the ship), and atmosphere, they provided. As thanks for their dedication and help, they only ask an invitation to his wedding, to which Kazuha replied will surely come even if they did not help.

The crew claimed that they shall be far away as possible from the ship so that the two of you can have your privacy, but Kazuha, and definitely you, as well, heard loud cheering from a short distance followed by a shushing Beidou when you accepted his proposal.

“I thought they said they’d be at Wanmin Restaurant - ”

“To be honest, I didn’t really believe them.”

Unlike the other boys who were hesitant of not seeing the bride for a week until the wedding, Kazuha was actually the one to push this tradition. He disliked it as much as the other boys, but Kazuha loved being able to give you his all. Not being able to see you for a week is a sure way for him to crave for your presence, and once the two of you see each other again, he’ll pour out every love and care for you then.

You were dismayed by this whole arrangement but since it is important to Kazuha, you respected it.

The crew fought for the spot of best man, but in the end, all of them got to be best man. Kazuha did not have the heart to choose one from the crew, so he had to explain to you beforehand that the almost the entire male crew of The Crux are going to be standing with him at the ceremony.

It wasn’t a common occurrence in a wedding but you allowed it. The crew was like his family to him, and if it’s going to make him happy to have them as his best men, who are you to go against it?

At the day of the wedding, Beidou was the one to fret over Kazuha’s appearance. The Anemo user tried to calm her down but after she continually tried to fix his hair for the wedding, he just sighed and allowed her.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be married in just a few hours.” Beidou remarked in the quiet after a while. “To think you were just a teenager when we met you, and our little teenager is a big man now.”

“Nothing’s going to change. I’ll just be married.” Kazuha tried to ease her worries but he knew as well there are going to be major changes. One of being concerning his frequent endeavors with the crew. Once he gets married with you, he’d want to be with you always, to settle with you. But he was so used to the sea, to be living with the crew in a ship. Can he really get used to this coming change?

Beidou let out a sigh. She placed a hand over his head, patting him gently. She would have ruffled his hair but that would waste her effort on making it as presentable as she can.

“Things are going to change, Kazuha.” Stated Beidou, beaming. “And it’s not all bad. Trust me.”

Kazuha nodded, but he was still uneasy. He was ready to give himself to you, but at the same time, he wasn’t ready to leave the crew. 

This thought haunted him even in the time of the ceremony. He should be focusing on the wedding but he couldn’t. 

He needed to talk to you about this. You need to know what’s bothering him.

Was it possible to feel dread for the future while also looking forward to it?

Because it felt like a gust of wind billowed his direction when his eyes landed on you. Beautiful, you’re beautiful. What else can he say? 

Was he really going to marry you? Whatever did you see in him? He was a banished Ronin from Inazuma. There must be some other man more worthy of you.

But you loved him, nobody else.

“Stop gawking at me like that. You’re making me embarrassed.” You murmured, cheeks flushed. He didn’t even notice you standing before him until you spoke.

Kazuha closed his parted lips as he turned away from you. “I . . . uh . . . ” He swallowed. “You look beautiful, ( Your Name ).”

“At least look at me when you say that, Kazu-kun.”

 He looked at you, breathing in before speaking. “You look very, very . . . uh, pretty.”

You laughed a little. “You look very, very handsome, Kazuha.”

You took his hands in yours and gazed into his eyes, smiling. “Things are going to change once we get married.”

A pang of uneasiness struck Kazuha.

But what you said next shocked him.

“After this, I can finally be part of the crew and join you on your adventures in the sea!”

Kazuha gawked at you again, blinking.

Everyone invited to his wedding gasped when Kazuha suddenly kissed you out of nowhere in the middle of the ceremony.

Beidou, and the rest of the crew, however, cheered loudly for the two of you.

After the wedding, Kazuha snuck away from the reception for a while. He found a tree from a short distance and sat on the branch, breathing in the cool evening air.

He caught a fluttering leaf and smiled as he gazed at it and recalled how the two of you met.

THOSE WHO WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR

     DILUC

       After losing his father and his horrible fall out with Kaeya, Diluc has become a firm believer that a man can truly live as an island, to some extent. As much as possible, he kept to himself and worked alone. Having people share his burdens with him did not appeal to him. In fact, it miffed him, as it made him feel indebted to them.

          He limited his interaction with everyone, especially those who are part of the Knights of Favonius, favoring solitude above else. But of course, this did not entail bad social ethics to others.

    He treated his maids and employees with civility and respect, the same can be said with his patrons whenever he worked behind the counter (it would certainly be bad for his business if he behaved aloof to them) and those he was once close friends with. He always behaved appropriately to them, although he must admit he can be quite insulting to the Knight, he always stood behind an invisible barrier, careful not to cross it and grow attached to anyone.

        He has long given up with amorous relationships. After all, what good would he be as a lover if he could not provide his woman the love and care she deserved? Surely, he cannot let a maiden suffer with his inadequacy as a potential husband. He is aware of how hectic his schedule is (he hardly has enough time for himself so spending time with his lover would be proven difficult) and how poorly he expresses his feelings, thoughts, and emotions. In a relationship, in marriage, communication is the key for it to be successful, and already then, he has failed. He may be a cold man at first glance, but he will not put a woman in s distressing dilemma, not intentionally anyway.

                    Being the richest man in Mondstadt and being considered attractive by many, Diluc was not foreign to having women throw themselves at him, attempting to seduce him. If maintaining a relationship with a woman with his current tribulations was hard, finding a woman who truly love and understand him was even harder. He has no means of deciphering who were pure with their intentions and those who sought him for his money and influence.

     And he accepted his fate without easily, without question. This was the way it was supposed to be in the first place. Diluc Ragnvindr - a lone man, who lived in too big mansion, sleeping on a bed too big for him. It was all he knew. The bright days of his childhood long forgotten.

    But then you came to his life so suddenly.

                          "Master Diluc," Began Jean, a polite smile over her lips. "This is ( Your Name )".

              All it took was for you to give him shy smile to have his walls broken down, and for his heart to yearn for what he has resolutely denied himself of for years. And it twisted him, and not in a way he welcomed.

          Diluc tried so damn hard to push you away. He avoided your presence, and made it his point to show you he wanted nothing to do with you, and made no attempt to cover it and ignored how his heart broke every time your smile fell. He resolutely refused to yield to your sincere advances.

                                     He treated you the same way be treated everyone, to show you how you were no different from everyone. You were just another dot in his life waiting to be erased and thrown in the back of his mind.

                                                       But the harder he pushed, the harder you pulled. In his brightest days and in his darkest days, you have never strayed far and welcomed him with open arms. You always went out of your way for him.

          It was hard not to fall in love with you? Why did you have to make things so difficult?

                        It wasn't too long until he was falling asleep in his bed with you in his embrace, his heart feeling light, warm and content. He hasn't feel like this in a long time - safe, and at home. Diluc found home from someone he tried to push away.

                                      The horror of what could have happened if he had been successful weighed down on him, and it took quite an assurance from you to make him remember that he has failed, and you were his, as he was yours.

                          Back then, he thought your persistence was bothersome. But as he stood at the altar right now, watching you enter with your white wedding dress, he was grateful you never gave up on him.

Diluc cannot describe how beautiful you looked as you graced everyone in the place with your presence.

Your eyes locked with him, and his heart soared in his chest. And when you smiled at him, an excited gleam in your eyes - he cannot help but smile back.

Time cannot be any slower, and the aisle cannot be any longer. And have you always walked this slow? Or were you just teasing him?

Diluc's breath hitched - Perhaps you knew how much he wanted to get this over with so he can have you all to himself in the comfort of his room.

And when he saw you smiling mischievously at him, he knew that he was right.

His words failed to describe how beautiful you looked. His words failed the joy he was feeling. May Barbatos have mercy on him

But the tear that escaped the corner of his eye explained everything.

"Oh, what is this?" His best man whispered beside him, a teasing tone lacing his voice. "Master Diluc is crying. Why, I never thought I'd see the day."

Diluc shot him a glare. "Do not make me regret making you my best man, Kaeya."

Kaeya laughed. "Ah, ah, ah," He chimed. "Your wife won't be pleased if we fight at your wedding day."

A warm and pleasant feeling coursed through him. His wife.

"She's not my wife yet." Said Diluc.

Kaeya looked at you as you walked down the aisle. "And in just a few minutes, I'll have two Ragnvindr to annoy." He patted his brother on the back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time. "Congratulations, Diluc."

     ZHONGLI

       Zhongli, or Rex Lapis for that time, has watched over Teyvat for thousands of years and has witnessed firsthand how kings and tyrants rose and fell, how kingdoms were born, how camaraderie are conducted, how romance makes a man foolish and blinded, how society flourished in the hands of mortals as Archons guarded them from their resting place, and throughout the tales of humans, his eyes has laid upon many beauties.

                   But you? Oh, even the most esteemed bard of all realms could never bring the satisfactory glory to your name and pulchritude.

            How dearly Zhongli missed the unspeakable power, money and authority he had back before he revoked his own position as a deity, keeping a close eye over Liyue and his people. But if ever presented with the opportunity to return to his rightful place as part of the Seven, he shall graciously decline, casting his gaze away and simply returning to your side.

                               After all, what benefit would he gain from it when he already has his heart is content in the possession of a mere mortal, a mortal he loved and adored. He would dream of ever choosing his old power over you, and that can be affirmed when he asked for your hand as the two of you took an evening stroll outside Liyue.

                 He has fallen for you and he cannot rise again. A gentle and kind woman with an understanding and patience which knows no bounds. If not for his revelation that he has accomplished all his duties and has come to decide to resign from his reign, your existence may be another reason for him to take the form or a mortal and ask for your hand.

                      He can still recall that faithful day when he first met you at the harbor. He stood by a high balcony, overlooking Liyue Harbor with arms crossed. The sun beat down against Liyue grounds and his skin, but it also casted an ethereal glow on you as you exited one of the ships that stopoed at the docks. And may he boldly say the sun was outshined that day, and his heart has been taken.

                                         Zhongli can only imagine how many men has chased after you, but failed to woo you.

                   Zhongli understood the concept of love. After all, Liyue and every living being that sought shelter in its walls were close to his heart, but never in his life has he felt the way he felt for you. It was the sort of phenomena he observed between lovers for centuries - unconditional love and care, a sanctuary in the arms of their beloved, an individual to trust and come home to whether the day has been kind or unkind.

           What he thought were trivial matters and the means of mortals for survival he has tasted its sweet flavor, and it was by your hand did he receive it. And he was thankful that you have found him worthy of being with you, and soon, being one with him in the contract of marriage.

And thus came the faithful day, the very day he longed to come ever since you have accepted him as your husband to be, and the day you have dreamt of every night you laid with him.

Zhongli counted the months, weeks, days, and if he had the ability to, minutes until the day of your wedding. He has a calendar in his room and everyday, he enthusiastically crossed out every passing day, watching as his wedding with you grow closer.

And when it finally arrived, Zhongli followed a meticulous routine to prepare himself, using expensive oils and perfume to which the Fatui money has provided splendidly. After all, he wanted to look the best he can for you. You deserved only the best of things, and he shall not hold back on anything to please you.

Though Zhongli, most of the time, was a calm man even under the eye of tribulations, when he stood at the altar in front of his close friends and colleagues, he can't help but feel anxious.

Of course he has no doubt in your love for him. He holds on your every word of love and affection as true, and his love for you was as hard as stone. Rather, it was he who doubted himself and his capabilities.

He wondered if he would be able to take care of you, love you the way you should be, bring a smile to your lips, and a laugh out of your mouth. If he had been Rex Lapis still, he would have easily uphold his duties as your husband. After all, what can an Archon not do?

It would be Childe, his best man, who would console him. He would tell Zhongli he is more than capable to care for you. He has a stable job (not to mention his connection with the Fatui), he was eager to please you and give you about everything if he can, he has a kind heart, he was a man who can manage his time wisely and never choose his profession over you, and above all, he loved you. Not many men can afford the luxury of being this perfect, but Zhongli was no man, not originally at least.

He will be unconvinced of what Childe has said. This unease in him was hard to diminish. Not being enough for you will tear him apart. The thought of it just gnawed at him. Will he make you happy? Will you regret marrying him when you realized life married to him wasn't as you expected?

It was only when the doors opened, and his wide and anticipative eyes darted over to the other end of the place did every little doubt in his mind is erased.

You stood by the entrance wearing the white dress you have fought hard not to show him until this day.

That bright smile on your face, those eyes that shimmered at the sight of him, the faint red on your cheeks - Zhongli did not even notice how love stricken he looked, and nor did he notice a tear cascade from corner of eye.

It was only when Childe stifled a laugh and pointed it out did he feel the dampness at the side of his face.

He forgot how to breathe when you finally stood before him. Even a veil cannot conceal your beauty.

With twinkling eyes, you smiled at him - like he was the only person in the room.

"Are you crying?" You ask playfully.

Zhongli will let out a chuckle, and as he take your hands in his, he said, "In such a beautiful day like this with the loveliest lady in Teyvat before me, how can I not?"

Indeed it was a beautiful day, made better when your lips met his.

He can't stop a few more tears from slipping.

THOSE WHO WOULD BAWL THEIR EYES OUT

     CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

                 Childe understood his duties as a Harbinger even if his playful and flirtatious facade may say otherwise. He kissed hands of women and paid them golden compliments until their mind went hazy with his feigned affection, but he was still a Fatui at the end of the day - a ruthless and greedy scoundrel who had too much Mora in his hands.

              And it was because of his line of work that he decided never to commit himself. If he was to find himself infatuated with a woman and she reciprocated his feelings and desired to pursue a relationship with him, it would inevitably drag her to the dangers entailed to his position.

                                       The last thing he wanted was someone to dear to him to be harmed, not to mention his lover could become his weakness, she could be taken by his enemies and be used against him, thus, making things more complicated and harder for him to fulfill his duties to the Tsaritsa.

             To him, nothing is more important than seeing through his mission with the finest quality of work he can give.

                   So damn you for coming into his life and distracting him. Damn you for bringing another bright to his life. Damn you for taking care of his family when he was gone. Just - damn you for making him fall for you.

      He hated this - the feeling of being weak, of being vulnerable, of laying his guard down. One touch from you and he's no better than the people he despised for being so frail and powerless.

                                              How ever do you possess this prowess to make him so dependent on you, to relish in your voice when you sing to him as the two of you laid together in his bed, how he let his defenses crumble when you whisper his name, the tug of his heart when you he sees you getting along so well with his family.

                          Childe wanted you. He wanted you more than anything and anyone in Teyvat. He was going crazy thinking about you.

             He refused to acknowledge his feelings at first, thinking perhaps he can use you to comfort him and his family in these troubling times. That's all you were supposed to be, a tool for him to make his family feel better whenever he goes off to accomplish his work as a Harbinger.

                              But he couldn't stomach the thought of using you like that. He didn't want you to treat like a toy. And it did not help that one day, when he was returning from a mission, you come rushing to him and blurting out your feelings and your worry for his safety.

               You loved him. Did he hear you right? You love a Fatui, and a Harbinger, no less. Surely, you aren't that stupid to fall for him.

     And yet he smiled a sincere smile at your confession, and he too followed your steps. That night, he was at his weakest. Just relishing in your arms and ridding all the responsibilities over his shoulders. He can forget all his faults for a moment, with you. A peace of mind and heart was found in you.

     Childe watched as you played with his fingers, and then he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”

       You hummed. “Afraid? Of what?”

                   Childe shook his head and held your hand which toyed with his digits. You looked up at him, puzzled.

              “Of me.” Said Childe, pulling your hand and holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes, almost terrified of what your answer can be. “Of what I can bring to your life. I’m a Harbinger, [ Your Name ]. Your life is at stake just being with me. Do you know what you’re in for for loving me?”

                        You gazed at him, and he can’t see anything in your eyes. He let out a small gasp when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

            “I’m not afraid of you or anything this world can throw at me.” You confessed. “You’re going to protect me, Tartaglia. I know you will. I trust you. I love you.”

                            And fucking hell, did he protect you.

                                          He tried to hide you from his fellow Harbingers, and especially to his enemies. Not because they will use you to get the upper hand against him, a leverage. No, he wanted to hide you, as long as he can anyway (because it won't be long until his secret is out, walls do have ears), to protect you. No one will lay a hand or even get a single strand of your hair. May the Archons have mercy on anyone who dares put you in the middle of the dangers of his job, because he surely won't.

Because of this, you and Childe decided to get married in secret, with no one else but Zhongli, the traveler, and their floating companion to be your witnesses in becoming one. The two of you knew well of the consequences your decision shall birth, but it's the one you're making. Nothing in this can stop Childe from making you his wife, and treating you as such.

Childe could not wait for the ceremony to begin. Even with such a small crowd - very small indeed - he did not hold back to make this day special for you. The finest of everything is what you deserved, and if he could give more, he would. But for now, all he can give you is himself, and he dearly wished he was enough.

The whole time, as he waited for you to emerge from the doors of the small cathedral the two of you chose to be wed in, he kept imagining how his life would be like with you.

Waking up beside you was the thing he looked forward to the most. When the sunrays peeked from closed curtains and cascaded down your slumbering form, a gentle and even breaths leaving your lips, a soft expression of rest - the thought of it filled his heart with warmth, a kind of warmth only you can evoke from him.

Waking up at your side on his bed always reminded him thst you were indeed there, and his. Soon, he'll be waking up beside you with a soft smile on his lips, a reminder that you were there, but now as his wife.

Childe never really considered him emotional. It was part of his discipline as a Harbinger never to let his emotions get the better of him. But when you stepped into the cathedral wearing the wedding dress you personally chose and had hidden from him for so long, a veil over your face but the soft smile still just as bright as the morning sun, it all came crashing down to him.

Childe wanted a lot of things in life. But what he wanted the most was to spend the rest of his life with you - providing for you, protecting you, comforting you, falling deeper in love with your every single day. All this he will do until his dying breath, and he knew you'd do the same.

His dream was walking towards him, never taking her eye off him as she approached the altar.

He can hear Paimon clapping and the Traveler reprimanding her for being a little too loud. He can hear Zhongli saying something to him but he couldn't understand a word he said. But he was too lost in his realization that you're going to marry him.

You chose him, a man with too many faults and imperfections.

Just as you arrived at the small steps leading towards the altar, the tears Childe has been trying to hold back streamed down his face, small hiccups escaping his lips.

You stared at him, worried. "Tartaglia, are you alright?"

Childe would try to formulate an answer but through his tears and hiccups, he couldn't make a single comprehensible word. His posture was regal and proper, as though he was trying to fool everyone that he wasn't crying.

How can you ask if he was alright? How can his heart handle how beautiful you looked right now?

"Excuse me, ( Your Name )," Zhongli interjected as he stepped beside Childe. "It seems that your soon to be husband needs a moment to collect himself. Please, excuse us."

Zhongli led Childe back to his room, and the Harbinger did not fight back. He was still crying even when the doors has closed behind him. Zhongli stood by the door, watching the Fatui sit on his bed, trying to stop himself from bawling.

Childe can feel guilt crawling up to him as he realized what he had done. What was supposed to the most perfect day, your most perfect day, was ruined because of him.

He was scared to think what you thought of him now. Were you resenting him for what happened? Did you still wish to marry him?

If only he had controlled his emotions much better. He shouldn't have let his joy break through him in tears.

"She was crying too, you know," Spoke Zhongli.

Childe raised his head to look at the former Archon. "Huh?"

"Your bride, she - " He smiled at him. " - she was crying too. She's happy to be marrying you."

Childe can feel his heart hammering against his chest in delight at what he said.

"So don't keep her waiting."

Childe bawled his eyes out once more when the words - "I do," - left your lips.

     AETHER

                 When his sister was taken from him, Aether was a lost and wandering soul in Teyvat with the sole purpose of finding her.

              Throughout his journey, he met different people from different regions. He learned their values and cultures, he grew to love the world he used to be a stranger to, he was able to utilize different sorts of Visions, and yet, despite all of this, Aether was lonely. Paimon - bless her pure soul - tried her best to keep his spirits and bring a smile to his face (he assumed she too felt the hollowness inside of him) but it was all futile as he often find himself seeking solitude and gazing out in an open field wondering where his twin could be and how she was fairing on her own.

                He will let the cool breeze comfort him, but all it left was a searing kiss of reality that his search might have been all for naught. That very concept his mind was conjured haunted him in his every waking days. Is he still journeying through Teyvat and reaching out to all Archons with a solid purpose? Was he no wasting his time looking high and low for someone who could not be looking at the sky as he?

                     "And what if she is?"

                                     Your words is what got his attention. Aether met you in the evening when the stars and the moon was absent from the skies. He sat on a fallen log overlooking the city of Mondstadt, alone and cold. Paimon has insisted in him accompanying him, but he had snuck away before she can chase after him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and with the scarce time he has for himself, he has to make the most of every night that comes.

                 Lumine was in his mind, and worry was gnashing its teeth at him. He was deep in his own world, sinking to the hands of his tragic thoughts, that he did not hear footsteps trekking the hillock he was at. Nor did he realize he was speaking his own worries in the air, eyes distant and staring blankly at nothing.

       "What if she's not even looking for me?" That's what he remembered saying that time.

                                       Then you made your presence known with an answer that refuted his initial thought. He whirled his head to the side, wide eyes with surprise. You stood next to him with a faint smile, hands behind your back and the moon slowly peeking from the shroud of clouds. A light in the darkness, the moon was. And so you were you to him.

                "Sorry," You apologized, sheepishly giving him a smile as you rubbed the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were speaking out loud and-and I just had a feeling I needed to say something." You took in a deep breath, and Aether found the pink dusting your cheeks adorable. "I . . . I'll just go now - "

              Aether didn't regret asking you to stay.

                                   Before you came to his life, Aether did not know how much he was dwelling in the own hell he made. His inner tribulations, his worries, his insecurities - he only took notice the torture he was putting on himself when you keep saving him from his own mind.

                   At first, all he thought of you was a precious friend - someone he leaned on and entrusted with everything, whether it be secrets or help with his quests. He told you about his past, his twin, how exactly he was different from the people of Teyvat, how he and sister fought an unknown god, how she slipped from his fingers when he reached out for her, how much he wanted her back. He was terrified of what you may think of him when he told you these things, but to his surprise, all you did was wrap him in your arms and comforted him.

                                      Along with Paimon, you were his dearest friend.

             But as time passed, the longer you accompany him and Paimon in his travels, he noticed something strange. The way his heart skipped a beat when you smile at him, how he can't keep his eyes off you when you laugh at one of his tales, how his heart hammered ceaselessly when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek, the relief that seeps in his system when he sees you unscathed from a battle, how irritated he becomes when someone makes an offense against you, the joy that seizes him when he listens to you talking about something you loved, and how much he adored it when you scold him for being a little too reckless in fighting.

                           Aether, despite being older than he seems, did not know what to make of what he was feeling. It was strange, a good kind of strange - the kind of feeling that makes him feel like he was floating in the sky. All he thought of it was an overwhelming adoration for a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

                  It wasn't until Paimon pointed it out did he realize what he was feeling for you.

                                           Upon learning his feelings for you, Aether couldn't sleep for many nights. He was plagued with the desires of his heart and his insecurities. It was like falling back to the same hellish pattern before you came along.

              He was in this world for one reason only - to find his twin. And when he does - and he fucking will - he will depart from here with her and continue their travels. Leaving you was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It felt like leaving a piece of him behind in Teyvat, a hole in the shape of your name.

                            The solution he had for this is directly confessing to you. Of course, the blond was a nervous wreck when he approached you and asked for a moment of your time. Paimon knew of his plan and wandered away for the time being, wanting to give the two of your privacy.

              If you did not share the same feelings as he, he can already imagine the pain he will have to deal with, but it'll be much easier to leave. At least then he knows you won't be as hurt as he thought once he takes his leave. He never entertained the idea of you reciprocating his feelings. It would be foolish to - surely you can't find anything appealing with someone like him ; to which you rendered him speechless and a bumbling mess when you pressed your lips against his when he was in the middle of his confession.

                                 Aether shouldn't be this happy with you. He loved you too much to see you hurt when he tells you that he must leave. He was not welcome in this world, he was an outsider, a being not under the authority or influence of any Archons.

     But still, he spent months loving you, caring for you, doing anything to come back to you no matter what is thrown at him. He loved having you in his arms when you slept, he loved watching the stars with you at night, he loved you even with the inevitable arguments you two have - Aether was utterly and hopeless in love with you.

                     And thus, he decided to tell you what will happen after he finds his sister.

                      He knew he would be heart broken in seeing you cry, but it hurt more to see you smile at to him so genuinely and embraced him, saying, "You used to doubt you'll ever find your sister. It broke my heart everyday seeing you so hopeless, and I - " You composed yourself, shaking your head as your tried to gather your thoughts. " - now look at you," You cupped his cheek, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your smile broadened. "I always knew the day will come when you have to leave me. When you told me you weren't from this world, I knew then I'll have to let go of you someday. But until that day comes - Aether - "

               What a shock it came to him when you got down on one knee and presented to him a glittering ring - there was unconditional love and hope in your eyes. It was like looking back at his reflection. "Marry me, Aether, let me make you happy for the rest of the days we still have remaining until you leave."

                                   Aether can never say no to you.

To his surprise, Master Diluc has already agreed to host your wedding at Dawn Winery. Aether was puzzled as to why he seemed unsurprised by the news of his engagement with you, and the Claymore wielding male answered, "( Your Name ) came to me for help when she planned to propose to you."

Aether knew Diluc, as much as possible, wanted to be alone. A lone wolf, he was. But with gratitude for what he has done, he asked him to be his best man. Diluc was startled by this requests but obliged. The red head might not show it but he was immensely flattered by Aether asking him to be his best now (and now time to subtly show it off to Kaeya).

At the day of the wedding, contrary to what he thought he would feel, Aether woke up with his an ache in his chest. He found himself looking out the window of his room, torn between his happiness and sorrow.

In a few hours, Aether will be able to adorn a ring on your finger, symbolizing your promises with one another. He shall be granted the sole blessing of calling your his wife. It was something he was looking forward to - seeing you in your wedding dress, watching as you walk down the aisle -

But Aether's mind kept drifting back to his sister - She would have wanted to be here. He thought.

Aether felt like he was committing a crime when he decided to take a walk just hours before his wedding. But he needed to clear his mind. Lumine never left his mind. He always thought that they would always be there for one another, or at least in big moments like this.

And yet she was still nowhere to be seen.

Is she still alive? Have I been wasting time? Is she still in danger? Is she lost in Teyvat as well?

"Didn't expect to run into you here."

His body tensed when he heard your voice, and he twirled around only to have his breath taken away.

You stood before him in the white dress he had longed to see ever since you proposed to him. He thought he would see a frown on your face, dismayed for his impromptu walk, but you wore a soft smile - a soft and understanding smile.

Aether did know what to say to you. He just stared at you, overwhelmed.

He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't say anything. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

You approached him and kissed his cheek. He hummed in delight, eyes closing. "I hope you're not having second thoughts on marrying me." You told him.

Aether was quick to respond. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes with affirming hues, "There is nothing I'm more sure of than marrying you."

You beamed at him. Seeing your face brighten up is always a beautiful sight for Aether, and it was enough for him to feel enlightened in the midst of his internal crisis.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course you can already tell something is bothering him. Aether shook his head. He has already ruined a small part of what is supposed to be a perfect day, he can't risk another mistake.

"I'm not going to push you to tell me anything." You stated.

Aether smiled. "Thank you." He replied. He gazed at you for a little while, taking you in. "Why are you out here anyway? And in your wedding dress too."

Your eyes widened and you looked down to assess his evaluation. "Oh Archons," You mewled. "I forgot I was wearing this." You let out a groan. "Great, now my surprise is ruined. I won't be able to see you cry when you see me walk down the aisle."

He laughed a little. "But still happy as ever to see you." He said. "So why are you outside?"

"Just . . . " You began, and Aether can detect a hint of nervousness in your voice. " . . . picking some flowers."

"I thought we already ordered flowers." Aether thought, frowning. "Did someone forget to deliver the flowers? I can call someone if - "

"No, I just wanted to pick some flowers, randomly. Like how you wanted to take a walk, randomly."

He looked at you with hesitant eyes. He didn't believe you. There was something hidden behind your motive to be out here. But like how you didn't press him with what was the problem, he did the same for you.

"Okay," He breathed out. "What flowers did you pick then?"

Aether's breath hitched when you pulled out a bundle of Windwheel Asters and several more flowers that was all too familiar with him.

He stared at the white flowers that combined with your Windwheel Asters, the very flowers that he remembered adorned his sister's hair.

"Aether? Aether are you okay?"

He stared at you with glistening eyes, his heart blossoming with adoration and gratitude. Without even meaning to, you managed to make everything alright.

"Yeah," He smiled at you. "I'm okay."

Aether thought when he stood at the altar, he would have Diluc trying to soothe his nerves as his insecurities slowly sink in his mind. But it didn't happen. Diluc merely stood by him with a relaxed expression, glancing at him every now and then.

"You don't look nervous at all." Diluc remarked.

Aether chuckled. "This is the only decision I fully know I won't regret."

Aether felt like it was his first time seeing you in your wedding dress. His heart was filled with the brim with utmost joy, but what caught his attention was the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You told him before that you will have roses as your bouquet, but to his surprise, he can see the Windwheel Asters and the white flowers that reminded him of his sister.

His emotions was all over the place. He had no idea how he could look so calm. Somehow he managed to hold himself together until you finally stood before him.

When you stared at him behind the veil, he couldn't take it anymore. You were too perfect. How could he be so blessed with you?

Tears sprung to his eyes when you reached out to take his hands in yours. He retracted one of them to rub his arm across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that streamed to his face.

Why am I crying like a child in my wedding? Stop it!

He couldn't.

He only cried harder when you leaned forward, removed his arm from his eyes, made him look into your vibrant hues, to give a small peck on his lips - "You're okay, Aether."

     BENNETT

                 Bennett understood his bad luck more than anyone. He had lived with and through it his entire life he graced the surface of the earth. It was almost pitiful to see the boy smiling ever so brightly as misfortune after misfortune comes hurtling his way, but to him? It was an everyday and normal occurrence, nothing he hasn't seen or experienced before. His spirits has never let their roaring flame vanish, however, and if it had not been for his bad luck, everyone would have been drawn to his warm, welcoming, affable, and cheerful soul.

                                 But just because he was used to the constant array of debacle thrown his way, doesn't mean there were never days where he won't be upset over everything it brought to his life, and others as well, and wonder how long it will take until his unluckiness will lead him back to the very situation he was rescued from when he was a mere baby.

          He forgot how long it was when he had experienced something good, miraculously so. The only time he can recall being so was when he encountered the Honorary Knight, convened with them as a temporary adventure team, and found a treasure chest containing items he has only dreamed of in his sleep deep within a domain. However, that was many moons ago, and nothing has ever compared to it ever since. The moment he departed from the Honorary Knight, his bad luck came instantly to bite him.

                 It was far too long ago. Sometimes, Bennett wondered if that would be the only good thing that can happen to him in his lifetime, and thank the Archons he was wrong because the very worst day that came upon him is a day he will never exchange for another - the day he met you. When it was raining, thunder in the distance, lightning striking trees and soil, his bruised and bleeding form hardly covered under a small and flimsy tent, you graced him with your presence, and an umbrella which you used to cover both of you.

                                    He had never stopped admiring you ever since. His eyes always followed you, wide and shining. He remembered the warmth in his chest and the redness tinting his cheeks when you brought him to your abode and treated his wounds with care gentler than the Deaconess. When he told you what happened to him, he anticipated to he shoved out of the house immediately and have your front door slammed on his face, but you did not. When he warned you about his curse, telling you how you will be affected when you spend a little too much time with him, the look of fright did not cross your visage and you even insisted that he not leave your house until you were sure he was capable of moving without pain, even if you had instantly been affected by his unluckiness (you pricked your finger quite badly when you were stitching a deep wound of his. He always felt guilty for that and has not stopped offering his apologies whenever it pricks the corner of his mind).

                   Other than the team of adventurers who had saved him from peril when he was a baby, it was difficult to find someone who will stay with him, through bad times and more of it. One cannot simply imagine and comprehend the confusion and happiness that seized him when he found out you were spending more and more time with him, not out pity but because you enjoy his company (which was weird, but he'll take it).

                              You possessed no Vision, but Bennett never saw you in an inferior light. In fact, it impressed him how you can hold yourself without the aid of any power. Enemies took a little longer to eradicate but ultimately, you were always successful. He held you in high regard, and very much like a certain blond traveler, the poor boy thought it was merely friendship and respect he felt towards you. After all, wouldn't a friend accompany him in his adventures no matter what disappointing or gratifying the outcome is? Wouldn't a friend prepare meals for him before he goes off on a solo expedition? Wouldn't a friend stay up late up waiting for him to return after? Wouldn't a friend welcome him by the entrance of Mondstadt upon his arrival? Wouldn't a friend give him butterflies in his stomach? Wouldn't a friend make his heart pound in a way

                  It had taken the Traveler and his floating companion for Bennett to learn about how exactly he was feeling for you.

           He liked you, and not in the way he liked the traveler or Razor - he liked liked you.

                               When he realized about his feelings, Bennett nearly short circuit every time you go near him. His face flush a rich color of vermillion, his confident posture stripped down to a coy and uncertain stance, his eyes darted and never meeting yours for too long, a sheepish smile painted over his brims - Bennett had never felt this way before. It was foreign to him - liking someone - and it was worse for him because you were his one of his few friends (you, Razor, the Traveler and their floating friend), and having you withdraw from him if you ever learned his feelings frightened him more than any Ruin Guard could.

    He didn't bother entertaining the idea of you returning his feelings. With his bad luck, it was bound to end in a rejection, and he didn't believe he had the heart to accept the hurt that would come.

                 Bennett tried to keep his feeling a secret, he really, genuinely, did. He locked his feelings for you in a box and stowed away somewhere behind his mind. But it didn't take you too long to catch on. Bennett's theatrics wasn't as impenetrable as he originally thought because there was no other reason for you to corner him in a street in Mondstadt after he tried to avoid crossing paths with you, and admit your feelings to him.

                                  "( Your Name )," Stuttered Bennett, eyes darting to the side to avoid your eyes as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. You gazed at him, a tint of red over your cheek.

                 Archon, how are you so adorable?

                   "Uh, hi," He greeted meekly, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I-I was just about to leave for an adventure - "

                               "Bennett," You spoke, and he froze at the tone of your voice.

                   He looked at you properly, gulping. Shy eyes, shy smile, shy, shy, shy - and yet somehow, Bennett thought the worse - that you found out about his feelings and was about to turn him down.

          He almost got down on his knees and press his hands together in a praying position, head bowed, and beg to keep your friendship. It didn't matter if you did not share his feelings. You were more important than his stupid feelings. He can deal with the hurt of rejection that will soon to come, but losing you completely? Can he even come to terms with that?

                                But before he can do such humiliating display, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek,

                  It was almost too good to be true, and with someone like him, Bennett had to take a moment to comprehend what has happened. His feelings were reciprocated, opposite of what should have been considering his dilemma. How can this be? He was sure your friendship would be put to an end when you learn about what he felt for you. How did you even know that he liked you? Has he been too obvious? Surely not (he was). Perhaps you were merely toying with him, discovering his feelings and choosing to use it as a way to alleviate your boredom -

                                           Horror struck him when he processed the message behind his doubt. How could he think so little of you? Someone as sweet and kind as you would be repulsed by the intention of the actions he thought you were presenting to him. Prideful as this may sound, Bennett believed he knew you enough to know you were sincere in everything you do.

            But even if both your feelings are revealed to be mutual, the two of you agreed to wait until a certain age before forming a romantic relationship. The two of you are young and there are a lot more the world can offer outside Mondstadt. There are countless of opportunities to grow and be mature, to be able to have a set of qualities to take of one another.

                            But that didn't mean the two of you easily managed to hold back showcasing your favor for the other. Bennett will always find himself exchanging secret glances and smile with you whenever a third party joins in on your adventure. He would stick by your side in situations he think could potentially lead you to a major injury. He will attempt (and fail, unfortunately) to whip you up with something delicious when he has free time. And you did the same to him.

                  With you, there was never a time where his heart wasn't beating against his chest. He can't stop himself from bounding recklessly through his adventures whenever you accompany him, although he will still keep a close eye on you just in case something bad happens to you (but it's always him who ends up injured).

                                              But what he liked the most are the kisses the two of you share. Short, chaste, and shy - whether it be behind closed doors, when others are looking away, or when the two of you set of on an adventure.

            Bennett would lay in his bed with a smile on his face, his thundering heart preventing him from sleeping. He'll often find himself burying his face against his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

                         This smile was different. This wasn't smile that he usually wore, the kind of smile that persevered through hardship after another. No, it was the sort of smile that was too carefree and too full of utmost joy, no worries or doubts in his heart. Everyday he always woke up to the excitement of adventure, but now, the excitement of it and seeing you once again always had him brimming with the want for the night to be over with so he can chase after his dreams with you. Chasing his dreams with you, what a life.

      His world is full of a bad luck, but he thanked the Archons for giving him someone he can depend on in the troubling waters he always he seem to drown in.

Bennett, embarrassing it may sound, often laid on his bed imagining about marrying you.

He can see himself making a fool out of himself when he gets down on one knee and propose to you. It'll be set in the most beautiful place he discovered in one of his adventure, somewhere quiet. Like maybe on top of a mountain overseeing a vast field.

Because of his bad luck, he'll try to prepare for every outcome. To be very sure everything will be saved, he made sure he created a plan B for his plan A, a plan C for his plan B, and so on, and so forth.

He can imagine himself fumbling over his words, blushing a bright red was made prominent because of his white hair, holding a bunch of hand picked flowers a little too tightly, sweat pouring from his face, his suit and hair a little ruffled -

If you say yes (spoiler alert, you will), he will most probably go haywire with shock and happiness, causing him to drop the ring down the mountain, and the two of you will spend quite some time looking for it. But in the end, you two will find it somewhere deep underground or deep underwater (to which you will ask help to retrieve) (Bennett offered to go down to get the ring but you can’t take any chances) and then you can start planning the wedding.

If Bennett had backup plans for his proposal, then expect there'll be much more backups with your wedding. He needed this day to be perfect for you, and his bad luck won't stop him from providing it for you. Even if he had to fight through horde after horde of Hilichurls (please stop him when he does, he definitely will do that for you), making you happy is his top priority.

Bennett will be extremely anxious the day before the wedding. He'll be pacing around his room, and has half a mind of running over to your place and spending the night there to reassure himself that you still want to marry him, and that you’re absolutely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It will be Razor - who the Traveler spent hours teaching the basic information of the role of Best Man to - who will calm his nerves. He’ll stop Bennett from reaching your house and carry him back to his own, and giving him a lecture (he did his best) like the best man he was.

Was he having second thoughts on marrying you? No way! He will just be nervous about how the wedding will go. With his bad luck, something horrible is bound to happen.

At the day of the wedding, Bennett can imagine himself constantly seeking reassurance from his best man.

"What if I mess up?" Questions Bennett to Razor, anxious hands fiddling with his tie.

"Messing up is . . . normal." Razor will reassure him, but Bennett will shake his head.

“But it's me. When I mess up, it's always . . . catastrophic . . . ”

Bennett hoped that at least for his wedding way, everything will go smoothly. A perfect day, for you and for him. He won't embarrass you or himself. He won't forget the rings, he won't have his clothes tucked inside out, he will not spill any food or drinks on himself or on his guests, there will be no random Hilichurl attacks - none of that.

He really hoped for the Archons to spare him from his bad luck. 

He will be able to stand by the altar with confidence and a smile, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

As Bennett is consumed with his thoughts, his eyes drew to the small table at the side of his bed and caught sight of the picture of the two of you perched on the surface. It was a picture you took with a kamera after one of his adventures. The two of you smiling happily as he showcased the loot of vegetables and wheat he gathered in numerous luxurious chests. It was good day, that picture was. He found more resources than usual. Of course, he learned from the Traveler that most of the chest they found contained treasures but hey, vegetables are better than nothing, right?

Bennett stared at your smiling face and can feel the heat creep on his cheeks as he imagined you in a pretty, white wedding dress, smiling at him so shyly and cute - oh, Archons, help him. May them have mercy on him. Of course, you always looked pretty to him - so, so pretty - but in your wedding day? Archons, he doesn't know if he can take that. It'll be too much for his big heart.

He can only imagine how your wedding will play out, but there is one thing he was sure of and that is that he will burst into tears once he laid his eyes upon you - and not the soft cry most men do in their wedding, oh, not at all like that. His heart is too big with too much love for you, and too soft to control his emotions properly.

Bennett will cry (bawl, actually), his tears of joy coming in streams, and it was loud enough for strangers to think he was grieving over a deceased loved one. He was hiccupping and sobbing, will probably be holding on to his vest tightly as if his entire lifeline depended on the pressure of how he crumpled the fabric. He hoped that in that time, Razor or the Traveler will lend him a hand and calm him down before he can ruin his own wedding.

Bennett, as he happily imagined that fateful day to come in the future (spoilers again, it will) did not feel a tear slip from the corner of his eye as he drifted off to a pleasant slumber with a beaming smile.