can-you-let-me-take-a-nap

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

Could I request Gepard with a chef! reader who enjoys cooking for him?

Reader loves to spoil Gepard with homemade bread or cake. Upon realizing that he skips meals, reader decided to take action and make him boxed lunches.

SWEET LIKE BUTTERCREAM! ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Gepard Landau x Gn! Chef! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Your husband has been neglecting himself, and you decide to spoil him rotten. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.5k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request, Anon! I know you didn’t specify whether the reader was married to him or not, but Gepard is so husband material that I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully you don’t mind! Please enjoy!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Honey,” Gepard echoes through the entryway to the kitchen, “I’m here.” 

You can’t hear him through the chaos, but he can hear you barking orders at your coworkers. Even your yelling soothes him to a certain degree. Still, he wants you to talk to him, so he shuffles through the tight squeeze in between the kitchen island and the ovens. Honestly, even though he’s a guard, his workplace is almost as dangerous as yours. The smell is heavenly, saffron and spices waking him (and his stomach) from a stress-induced daze, but the discord is immeasurable. 

He can hear you asking (shouting) for someone to check on the tiramisu, followed by a louder, “Thank you!” which makes him chuckle. That’s what the blond first noticed about you: even in dire situations, you never forget your manners. The memory of a rainy day in Belobog flashes through his mind: on his daily rounds, he finds a figure dressed in an adorable frog raincoat, beating a thief with their matching frog umbrella, hollering tearful apologies with each strike. Whilst as a Landau, his teachings have raised him to believe that ‘manners maketh man’, that scene was a rather overexaggerated use of the phrase. Nevertheless, the second he met your teary gaze, he was so enraptured by you that he nearly stumbled into a puddle. He’s about to melt into one too, watching you work away with that little look of concentration that makes him want to scoop you up. 

“Darling?” Your husband calls once more, just metres away from you. Finally, you turn around. Meeting his deep blue eyes, taking in his tired tiny smile and outstretched arms, you leap right into his arms. You’re not one to throw yourself at people, nor are you one for physical touch, but of the many years you’ve known him, Gepard will always catch you if you fall. It’s that trust that allows you to dive into his embrace every time he visits you at work, he’s just so reliable. 

“Hello handsome,” you hug him so tightly he nearly stumbles backwards, “back from work so early?” It’s then that you do a double take at him. Gepard is never home from work early. He’s a doting husband, yes, but he’s an equally hard-working Captain. You hug him harder and realise just how much skinnier he’s gotten. “You must be sick, sit down. Let’s get you to the private lounge.” You take a deep breath, ready to yell once more, and Gepard shuts his eyes in anticipation of another wave of noise-barrier-breaking-banter. “Jiaoqiu, I trust you’ll keep things running?” The new foxian chef nods, and you leave your domain with your husband behind you. 

Working as a chef in a hotel is a stressful job: entitled customers who plant hairs in their food to get a discount, waiting staff who hand in an order that is completely illegible, the loud hustle and bustle of the kitchen. It’s not for the weak, and your employers are appreciative of that fact and give the cooks a little lounge. Even for a five star hotel, it’s amazing they even considered it in the first place. You take full advantage of their kindness and lead your husband to one of the cream coloured couches. The sea is visible from the lounge, full glass windows making you feel as if you’re trapped in an ice cube. The hues of sunset begin to paint the sky, light red casting light on the hollows under Gepard’s eyes. 

“Geppie, you haven’t been overworking yourself and skipping meals again, have you?” 

He looks away, slightly red: “It’s not that bad. It’s just a few meals.” He winces, his soft voice jaded from fatigue. To make matters worse, his stomach rumbles ferociously. He covers his stomach with white gloved hands, blue eyes widening with panic. “Listen, go back to work, love, I promise I’ll eat once we get home. Just, don’t do that thing where you go insane trying to cater to me. You work a full-time job too, don’t let me get in the way. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.” 

“You’re a grown man when I saw you are, Geppie. I’m bringing you pasta, just the way you like it.” You flash him a pout, frustration building up inside of you. You hate seeing your husband neglect himself like this, every time you see him convince people around him when he’s fine when he’s obviously struggling, it hurts. You two lead your lives in effortless synchronicity, like a perfectly executed ice skating performance, so observing his health deteriorate when you two are so close it’s like you share the same chambers of your heart is hurtful to you too. You’ve given him his space, but now it’s time for an intervention.

“You don’t have to cook me pasta, darling, I can cook too, you know?” 

You grab both of his legs and rest it on the white fancy coffee table in front of you so suddenly, he startles and jumps back like a frightened rabbit. You fetch him a blanket from the hotel cabinet and drape it over him. “I know you can, love,” you run your hand through his soft hair and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, “but just let me handle it tonight, okay?”

He yawns, finally giving in. “Okay honey, but only for tonight.” Gepard replies, his Captain’s authoritative lilt leaking into his words. 

But that voice doesn’t work on you, it seems, because the next day during his patrol, you bound up to him like a puppy. Gepard may walk into you at times, and you will greet each other, maybe share a kiss. But you know not to interrupt his work, as any lack of diligence may result in casualties in rare cases. But Gepard doesn’t want to take that gamble. Today, however, in this picturesque sunny day, the sky the shade of his eyes, there is something hidden behind your back. 

“Darling, hello! Are you enjoying your day off- oof!” The second he reaches out to kiss the back of your hand, you smack an adorably wrapped box into his arms. Although he is in his uniform, perfectly built to protect him, he does stumble back slightly. He assesses the box, unwrapping the floral pink fabric that holds it, and finds a bento box. “Wait, love, I love your cooking but we have food at work, don’t waste your day off on-” His voice trails off, because as he looks in front of him again, you’ve already vanished. He shakes his head dismissively, “What a sly fox.” But a few of the Silvermane Guards at the same post as him watch as a wide smile breaks out on his face, along with a blush that turns the tip of his ears a deep pink. 

It has become a daily thing now. And although Gepard feels a bit ashamed that his partner is babying him, the complete truth is that on your days off, he intentionally ‘forgets’ his bento box just so you can find him and hand it to him then. It’s no different three months later, when you stomp up to him in your wellie boots, under your frog umbrella. “Hello, love.” He greets, ruffling your hair and taking the bento box. He looks at the fabric that decorates it and tilts his head to look at you better. “I like the ducks on this one, it’s cute.” When he laughs with the same softness as a tiny bell, you swoon softly, even more so now that he’s gained some of his baby fat back on his cheeks after your rigorous diet schedules. It makes him seem so much more peppier, and now that things are a bit more difficult for you at work, he’s been stepping up and taking care of you too. It shows now more than ever that he’s less overworked. There’s a pep in his step, all signs of tiredness in his face replaced with a healthy glow and rosy tint in his cheeks. He makes your cheeks bloom with heat when he kisses the back of your palm, his common Prince-like greeting. “So, what did you make this time?” 

“I made some linguini and I had some leftover battenburg cake, so that’s in there too! It’s a bit chilly today, so wrap up warm, sweetheart. I’ll get going now, I have to pick up some groceries.” You’re about to turn away, but Gerpard calls your name in such a way, it resembles the light and sweet taste of buttercream. 

“Wait! Before you go,” he sets the bento box on a nearby bench and lifts you up for a kiss. You meet his lips and exchange a cold kiss that ends up warming the both of you up significantly. “I’ll see you at home, angel.” He smiles, putting you down. You say your goodbyes and walk away, heart swelling with affection and excitement for the next time he opens the door to your house so you can leap into his arms once again. 

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

May I request Dan Heng taking care of drunk reader?

HE'S NOT MUCH OF A DRINKER, BUT HE'S A DREAM GIRL ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Dan Heng x GN! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Dan Heng picks you up from the bar, and it seems like you’re completely hammered.

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4K 

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you so much for submitting the very first ask! I won’t lie, I got a bit carried away so it’s a bit longer than most drabbles. I love my silly little dragon man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

A sigh echoes across the halls of the Astral Express. The stars gleam and the sky is streaked with hues of purple and the serene teal of Dan Heng’s eyes, currently focused on the door to the little bar in the Astral Express. He opens the doors, and the grandiose chandelier above his head nearly blinds him. But what nearly takes his breath away is you, slumped on the onyx marble island with a cocktail in hand. No matter how often he enters a room and lays eyes on you, each and every time, his brain and eyes race to compute your beauty. However, even as your partner, the dark haired man  keeps his affections closer to his chest. 

“Dan Heng, what are you doing here?” You slur, eyes squinting at the silhouette approaching you. You can tell it’s him, because the aroma of autumn petrichor and old books almost overpowers the stench of alcohol. “Were you reading?”

“I’m here because March texted me to pick you up,” he smiles softly and nods in the pink haired girl’s direction, “let’s go to my room, angel.” To this nickname, you swoon, and March giggles softly, slinging a drunk Trailblazer over her shoulder and taking them to their room. 

“Night, Dan Heng!” She chimes, eyes alight with amusement. Even in your state, barely able to walk, you know that this whole set up was most likely by her design. You can’t fault her for it though - March, ever the romantic, is the very reason you and Dan Heng are together now. 

“Night, March.” He replies back, and he turns all of his attention towards your slumped figure. “Now, what to do with you.” His mutters are soft, and even in private, there is a rather comforting strain of sterness in his tone. “I’m going to help you up, can you walk?” 

“Mm, no.” You reply, and find his perplexed expression absolutely adorable. His nose scrunches up and you can practically see the cogs running in his head, trying to devise a plan to get you to his room. You decide to be gracious and give him the solution: “Carry me?” 

“Carry you?” Dan Heng asks, surprise leaking into his voice. He then falters and coughs behind his palm in an attempt to regain his composure, “Carry you. I can do that. Come on.” He gently pries your hands off the cocktail glass and lifts you up in a bridal carry. His footsteps echo in the halls, the starlight illuminating his soft expression. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading time,” you whisper, suddenly self-conscious that you’ve made your boyfriend take the brunt of your own actions, “I didn’t think the cocktails were so strong.”

“It happens, don’t worry.” He replies, “I wasn’t reading anything interesting anyway. Just boring things about the stars.” And you think you’re about to enter his room, the faint glow of his night lamp leaking through the doorway, but he makes a turn and heads towards the observatory.. 

“Are we sleeping somewhere else?” You ask, shifting slightly. You trust that Dan Heng won’t drop you, even if you thrash around like a worm. 

“The observatory has a nicer bathroom nearby in case you feel nauseous. And besides…” He hesitates, dark lashes fanning over the teal irises that stare down on you. “...I’ve wanted to sleep under the stars with you for a while now. What do you think?” 

You pause, both flustered, taken aback, and enraptured by him. It seems that no matter what he does, or what he asks for, you can never say no to him. Nor do you want to. The urge to spoil him, to see that serene little smile on his face when he lets his guard down, is your ultimate goal. So naturally, your response is: “Sure, let’s do that.” 

Dan Heng is rather good at keeping a poker face, but around you, (either because he has no use for his reservations or because you have gotten so good at reading him), not one emotion goes unnoticed. So even if he looks away, you notice in the reflection of the windows sealing off the extra rooms, that a light pink hue kisses his cheeks, accompanied by a toothy, boyish grin. 

He gently opens the door to the conservatory with his hip, setting you down in a chair and cracking open a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. I’m just gonna open up the sofa bed.” And as he does so, you take a look around the remarkable room. Made of glass, you can see the stars as the express glides across the cosmos. The interior is rather simple: a  minifridge in the corner, accompanied by a few house plants; a black chaise lounge that you currently occupy, and a black sofa bed that Dan Heng places pillows on. The entire view is celestial, picturesque, but the most breathtaking view is your lover. Even in simple clothing, the black turtleneck he wears, paired with his white pants, he always looks as if he has stepped out of an ink wash painting. Untouchable, yet so gorgeous. 

And, all yours. 

It seems that you are too drunk to conceal your adoration, because Dan Heng comes towards you, crossing his arms. “What are you looking at?” He asks, both teasingly and with slight seriousness. The cadence of his voice, normally monotonous, rises and falls as his eyes scan your expression. 

“You!” You giggle, unashamedly. Dan Heng blushes softly, realising that his plan has backfired. Instead, he guides you to the bed, a hand hovering above your waist. 

“You really have no shame, do you?” 

“Especially not when I’m drunk!” You babble, letting him prop the pillows up so you aren’t fully laying down. You make yourself at home, shimmying into the covers next to him. 

“I can see that, dear.” He replies.

Dear?

 You jerk your head towards him with such speed, you nearly go green. 

“Wh-what?” He asks, blinking at you. 

“You never call me pet names.” You blurt out, “It just caught me off guard.” Dan Heng has never been one for sappy affections, especially because he can’t take your reactions. He tells you it’s because your name is the most beautiful thing to call you by, and it’s true, but if he catches you with that lovesick stare, he isn’t sure his heart can handle it. 

“Well, you’re so far gone, I don’t think you’ll remember this  anyway.” He replies cooly, but his ears are completely red. “Do you want something to eat?” 

“Don’t change the subject! Call me that again!” You plead, pouting and dramatically draping yourself over his lap. “C’mon please?” 

“N-no, I think pet names are more effective in moderation.” Dan Heng replies, but the heat consumes his face so much, he pushes his dark hair out of his face and fans himself slightly. 

“Aww, bummer.” You lay back, and he locks his fingers with yours, using your intertwined hand to reach up to the sky, in all its astral grace and heavenly beauty. He guides your clasped hand to a planet above:

“That’s Venus, look!” His voice, now slightly sleepy, rumbles a few octaves deeper, and the calming vibrations cause waves of sleep to wash over you. “And over there, that pink planet? That’s actually a moon for another planet. Miranda.” 

“Really?” You look towards him, and his face glows with childish wonder. His guard is completely lowered around you. It’s not that he becomes more like a kid around you, but he feels comfortable being vulnerable and letting his excitement show. You watch him with the same wonder he gazes at the stars with, but your eyes struggle to stay open. 

“Mhmm! I think there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Do you want to watch it together?” He asks, a tiny smile spreads onto his face, but when he turns around, his expression softens even more. “You look tired, get some sleep, my love.” 

“Okay but…” You mumble, pulling the floral duvet up to your chin, “...Wake me up when it begins.” 

You don’t hear his reply as you  finally let your fatigue catch up with you, slumber slowly letting you drown, but just as you fully surrender, you feel a pair of lips brush against your forehead.

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

AN ECCENTRIC'S ENTROPY ୨♡୧

PAIRING: (Dr Ratio x Professor! Reader)

WARNINGS: Suggestive

SYNOPSIS: For people who get into each other's pants a lot, you sure do know how to piss each other off...

WORD COUNT: 1k

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Entropy: The measure of the degree of disorder within a substance

“Will you stop your incessant whining?” Dr. Veritas Ratio groans, “I’d have thought spending more time with me would have caused your IQ to surpass at least a vegetable.” You roll your eyes and slam your new research paper down on your colleague's desk. 

“If you didn’t want to be surrounded by idiots, you shouldn’t have decided to teach at a university. Even if Stellaron University is prestigious, you’re still teaching barely adults.” You sigh with faux pity. “But I guess you didn’t think that far, poor Dr. Ratio.” Mockingly, you pet his head, the silky locks of violet slipping through your fingers as he grabs your wrist and forces it back on the desk. 

“I’m not reading your paper.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed and a scoff leaves his lips. Even though he looks up at you from his desk, the way he reclines on his chair so casually makes you feel small. It has always been like this. Veritas and his obnoxious attitude driving you up the walls. A prodigy yourself, the pursuit of knowledge has never been a struggle to you. Yes, it was challenging, but that was part of the fun. The thrill of tearing apart a formula and sinking your teeth in until it churns out a set of numbers that you like.  This allowed you to be the top professor at Stellaron for almost three years straight, until Veritas. Veritas, who opposes almost everything that you do, from the way you prefer to use a whiteboard and pen and him a blackboard and chalk. The way your coffee is dark and his is sweetened with milk and sugar to the point it doesn’t even look like coffee anymore. You didn’t have a problem with this until he published a scientific paper which had quoted your own paper published a month prior, and pointed out how it was not mathematically viable. You still remember the smirk he wore on his face when he emailed you the manuscript for peer review, the audacity of this man to ask you to proofread the very paper he dedicated hours to just to prove your own wrong! 

Naturally, your response is to ask him to do the same. But not with one email, but with twenty scheduled emails every other day. Sometimes, you like to add little emojis to the subject of your emails, and other times you embed links into the email that isn’t your paper, but wikihow articles. This pettiness has caused many encounters with him, some ending rather… intimately. 

Of course, Veritas has not proofread your paper, and you don’t expect him to, so he has no idea how much you’ve referenced his paper and disproved it. But you know how much it ticks him off regardless, the urge to tear through each of your arguments, even if logically speaking, arguing with you is  a waste of time. This degree of disorder is what drives him crazy. You sew chaos into his life as he does to yours, and as the entropy of a heating substance increases the entropy of its surroundings, so too does the tension-filled competitiveness from one of you, causes the other to maniacally lust to overpower the other. 

“Come on, read it. I know you want to.” You slide the paper closer to him, your hands sliding across the epoxy finish of the oak desk. “Unless… You’re scared I’m right.” He stares up at you with eyes the same hue of gold as the award trophies that line the shelves of his classroom, and cocks a brow. He stands up, leaning over the desk and moving his face closer to yours. His cologne almost overpowers your perfume, the musky scent of pinewood and berries he reserves for winter mixing with your vanilla scented perfume, and it sends you into overdrive.

“Oh? I think someone is too overconfident.” He remarks. You’ve noticed that there’s always something up his sleeve, something that he uses at the last minute to defeat you, but you’re getting better at recognising his patterns. And the way his deep voice becomes breathier, softer, akin to a snake’s sinister hiss, you understand that you’ve gotten under his skin. 

“You don’t think enough, Veritas, that’s your writing skills are bare bones and your papers hard to understand.” 

“Shut that mouth of yours.” He grits his teeth further, finally sitting on the edge of his desk and flipping over your paper. You let out a small laugh and sit at his chair. He looks down at you disapprovingly as you do so, but you pay no mind to the fact you’ve sat yourself down on his throne, because your paper will definitely take him down a peg or two. 

“In your bibliography, you spelt ‘accessed’ on your third source wrong.” He points out, taking a red pen from his desk and removing the cap with his teeth, circling the typo as you burn with humiliation. “Oh my, your spacing for the first page and last page are different. How irritating it must be for your readers to be accustomed to one layout and then switch to another.”

“It is just spacing, Veritas.”

“It’s more than that, dear, people like some organisation in their scientific papers. And your way of writing is chaotic! I should have known just by your handwriting and layout in sums.” He tuts, petting your head in faux pity just as you did to him seconds ago.  

“Read the damn paper, Dr. Ratio.” You grit your teeth, now irritated that you’ve dedicated hours and hours bashing him in the footnotes, researching just so he can get a taste of his own medicine, for you to be corrected on your formatting. 

“Patience.” There is something downright Dionysean about his voice, if it were a colour, it would be the seductive shade of red wine, and just as addictive. Addictive like the many times where you two have come too close for comfort, like the one time you two were locked in the storage closet together, and you felt his strong arms encase your body as he helped you push the door open from behind. Or this one time at a work event where he made fun of your table manners and swiped ice cream off of your lips to prove his point. It made you feel red hot, just like the colour of his voice, and the way he acts too hot around you, too excitable. And you wanted more. To make a man who is cold and reserved morph into a competitive beast  raring to go and one up you at every turn is no small feat. The dichotomy makes your head spin, and this side of him only you know wants to make you explore him more. And you know just from the way he cocks his head and slides off the desk, that he’s switching from sub-zero aloofness to scorching hot opposition. 

He grabs the arms of the chair you sit in to push it so far it hits the wall so you are cornered against the blackboard. 

“Actually.” He muses, tilting your head up and sliding your hair to one side. “I want you to read it.” He whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Read it, and I’ll give you,” he encircles your waist with one hand, “appropriate feedback.” 

He hands you the manuscript, and kisses your neck softly. His other hand, now free, unzips your skirt and you gasp as his fingers venture between your legs. 

“Start reading. You’re good at running your mouth, aren’t you? Let’s see how long that attitude lasts…”

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

I’m alive! Hello! You may know me as a writer for Genshin, and that I’ve fallen off the face of the earth for a bit, but wait no more! I’ve got a project to launch and YOU (yes, you, this is peer pressure) are an imperative element to said project! Are you a fan of otome games, murder mysteries? This is for you!

Welcome to Elysia, where you play as a traveller who poses as a member of royalty in Elysia Palace, where the line between friend and foe is terribly blurred. When sent a letter forewarning their assassination at the Moonbeam Ball, you, the player, must make choices on behalf of the protagonist to find out who among the palace staff is guilty of organising what may be your final dance.

There is no time left, Traveller, and you must find someone to trust in this beautiful, decorated, prison of a palace.

Join our server, where you can view our story and vote on choices that may just save your protagonist’s life (or lead them to disarray…)

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

I’m alive! Hello! You may know me as a writer for Genshin, and that I’ve fallen off the face of the earth for a bit, but wait no more! I’ve got a project to launch and YOU (yes, you, this is peer pressure) are an imperative element to said project! Are you a fan of otome games, murder mysteries? This is for you!

Welcome to Elysia, where you play as a traveller who poses as a member of royalty in Elysia Palace, where the line between friend and foe is terribly blurred. When sent a letter forewarning their assassination at the Moonbeam Ball, you, the player, must make choices on behalf of the protagonist to find out who among the palace staff is guilty of organising what may be your final dance.

There is no time left, Traveller, and you must find someone to trust in this beautiful, decorated, prison of a palace.

Join our server, where you can view our story and vote on choices that may just save your protagonist’s life (or lead them to disarray…)

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

Flower Amongst The Waves | ༄

♡ 。Childe x Reader x Yelan

Warnings: Dub-con, spanking, bondage, interrogation, degrading, praise, good cop bad cop, reader is Traveller, gender-neutral reader, they/them, mentions of blindfolding, mentions of lingerie, mentions of other characters, name calling (reader is called a slut),reader is caught in 4k (both literally and figuratively as the word count is 4k)

.｡..｡.:*･Venom, you say? But I think you’re the one intoxicating me…･*:.｡. .｡.:

Cool metal envelops your wrists, cool as the lakes in Mount Aocang. It acts as a source of relief from the harrowing heat of adrenaline engulfing your body. The handcuffs force your hands above your head and chains dangle from the ceiling. The room is void of light and no matter how much you try to let escape the tiniest bit of elemental energy, not even a hushed grumble of geo, a faint whisper of ameno, nor a confined crackle of electro escape any part of your being. You note that the ground and the room have been heated very slightly, warming your legs sprawled in a disorganised fashion. An anomaly. This room void of light, proper windows and people, is a room intended for torture. You’d know, the Kujou Commission’s domain making sure to teach you this very lesson as you and Yoimiya went off to fight the Fatui. 

Wait, the Fatui..?

You spot the crimson insignia imprinted on the door handle, looking awfully like an empty gun barrel, through the sliver of azure tinted moonlight that creeps through the barred windows, blacked out by wiring. Although the blazing torment of humiliation licks at you, hope swells in your chest knowing that Tartaglia will free you from this unfortunate predicament. 

Speak of the devil.

A rattle of a doorknob. The creak of a jail cell. The gentle jingle of an earring against fabric. The clacking of a pair of heels.

No, two pairs of heels. 

In your vision, swims not one, but two figures. A flick of a switch and the room is dimly lit, and you allow your eyes to fixate on the bodies looming over your own.

“Comrade, I must say I’m thoroughly disappointed.” A saccharine voice matches an equally saccharine grin, “Stealing from Northland Bank and caught red-handed just a week later? I thought you fought a god?”

What..? 

“N-no, Tartaglia, you’ve got the wrong person. It really wasn’t me. I have no use for money, you know that! The Kamisato Clan paid me favourably, and Beidou gave me a share of the loot we got to keep when defeating treasure hoarders by the coasts of Inazuma. I still have most of the money you gave me when Teucer snuck into Liyue!” 

Cool yet wild blue eyes look you up and down, and your ears heat up as you look up at him from your knees. Your gaze flickers to the side of the room to remedy the sheer embarrassment of his unhinged gaze, yet you are met with feline eyes, the iridescent hue like the depths of a tropical sea. They glow in the dark briefly and buzz with an emotion that you can’t put your finger on.

“Miss, do you think we ought to deal with the Traveller?” The redhead’s voice is tinted with a sense of playful sadism as his gaze burns you even further.

The woman in question has a catlike grin blooming on her face as an idea visibly pops into her head. Her pinky-purple lips glisten in the light. “I have heard how Fatui deals with liars, though I’m sure this one is luckier than the others.” The harsh fragrance of leather and a hint of orchid wafts around you as she inspects your petrified visage, her predatory expression tells you that you are the mouse to this catlike woman: “I believe that this one should leave alive, yet not unscathed.”

A gentle yet dangerous chuckle echoes in the prison cell, “Don’t look like that, Traveller. We won’t kill you, but we will enjoy the thrill of finally hunting you down.” The words he utters are laced with an emotion heavier, muskier than bloodlust. You’ve fought and sparred with him many times, you know what he sounds like when he wants to fight. You know that he doesn’t want a duel. His words usually become more slurred and his eyes less focused, but now his voice is both teasing and as gentle as a chime of an ornament and it rivals the glazed over yet evermore intent expression on his face. “You thought we wouldn’t notice? Kameras aren’t just used for pretty pictures, they monitor the vaults and pictures are taken every thirty seconds, just to catch you in the act. Well, I would say that this image is quite pretty, seeing as you’re in it.” The eleventh Harbinger waves a piece of paper in front of your face, and a figure that looks much like yourself captures the moment of gloved hands gripping the vault handles, the metal door already half-open. 

“That’s… That’s not me..! Well, it looks like me, but I swear I wasn’t even in Liyue last week, I arrived three days ago. You can ask Beid-“ You pause, knowing that you teleported on the way back instead of taking the ship due to the many stops before you went back that would waste your time. 

“The Captain who is halfway to Mondstadt? Oh dear, it seems you don’t have an alibi after all.” The woman’s voice is mature, smooth and refined like red wine; a stark contrast to Tartaglia’s. Her expression is unreadable, but her half-lidded eyes suggest she is going to enjoy whatever she has in store for you. Her breath licks your face, and she whispers into your ear as a leathered finger brushes your hair behind your ear. “I am an investigator sent from the Liyue Qixing. The name’s Yelan, keep that in mind because you’ll be screaming it a lot tonight.”  The waves that once grazed your feet produce a huge wave that lifts your body into the sea: this emotion you couldn’t grasp, the meaning of the gazes that simply washed away and slipped through your fingers as you tried to understand them: it was lust. 

You curl into yourself a little more, cowering from Yelan who now joins you on the floor, but the Harbinger’s long fingers supporting your back from behind keep you in place. The room heats up even more and you wish that it was the temperature of Dragonspine now. “I promise I’m not the thief, you know that I helped rebuild the Jade Chamber, that Lady Ningguang would help me if I needed anything! Even… Even you would, right?” Your voice is no longer confused, but you squirm very slightly as Childe trails a finger up your ankle.

“Of course, outlander. I am always here to defend you, which is precisely why you’re going to leave with all of your limbs intact. I call it a bargain, comrade.” His hands travel to your waist and you try to wriggle. The pair chuckle as you try to escape from them.

“These chains are manufactured for interrogations, you know? You can’t escape them, Traveller. You’re welcome to keep squirming, though, it’s fun to watch you struggle.” The  woman digs her fingers into your chin when you look away from her. “Has no one taught you any manners? First you steal, now you won’t look at me when you’re speaking? Dirty brat.” Her refined drawl turns into a growl at the last two words, and she yanks your hair to keep you in check. The sharp burning in your scalp makes you hiss in pain and the gloved finger from behind you traces a line from the back of your neck to the  small of your back neutralise the hot sensation with its cool touch. Tears from the pain dot the rim of your eyes and gleam on your lashes like diamonds, and you can practically hear the sneer the young woman wears on her elegant face. “No alibi, photographic evidence, and obvious trails of geo and ameno in one set of footprints. What say you, outlander?”

“I say nothing. No offense Miss Yelan, but I’m really innocent! On the day of the robbery, I was visiting the Grand Narukami Shrine, please, if I could allow you to-“ You are interrupted by the sound of a zip and the ruffling of clothes, silk slips down your legs, along with your underwear in one graceful swoop. “Childe-!” You squeak and try to use your legs to hide yourself. The pair switch places and now you have Yelan tracing circular patterns on your bare back and Tartaglia brushing stray hair out of your face. His pink lips are pursed and freckles dot his cheeks, bold and pretty like the stars in the night sky. His dark lashes flutter at the view of your bare form. 

“You call me Ajax here, comrade. Although I have been called “Master” by the many poor souls who have found themselves within the cells underneath Northland Bank, I can make an exception for you.” You shake your head and try to kick your legs as Yelan unfurls your legs  and your behind is lifted from your heels. Her hand is splayed on your stomach, the pads of her fingers rough. “Now, comrade, why was Paimon here, and not yourself five nights ago?” His arms wrap around you in a manner akin to an embrace, but the man has your chin propped over his shoulder. His right hand laces through your hair to soothe the remnants of the sting and another rubs circles on expanse of skin on your bottom.

You feel so hot, even though the lack of clothing should make you colder, the blazing lust that radiates the bodies surrounding you have blanketed your body in its searing warmth. “Paimon-“ You start, and you jolt as Yelan squeezes your supple flesh behind you. Childe kisses a spot underneath your ear to soothe you. “Paimon was recovering from the Electro overstimulation when we faced off against the Mikoto-“ A sharp slap to your ass from Yelan prevents you from speaking, you bury your face in Tartaglia’s shoulder as you quiver from the reeling shock. “Why? Miss Yelan, I really am telling the truth!” Childe hushes you and Yelan takes her hand off the skin, likely light red from impact. You naively misunderstand this silence as a signal of her reconsideration of her actions, but another harsh spank to your other side which causes a tear to escape your eye proves you very wrong. 

Yelan digs her nails into the flesh she struck just a moment ago and you slump over the Harbinger’s strong frame, who starts to coo at your pitiful state. “Poor thing, already trembling and it’s only been a few minutes. You can’t be this fragile in the face of danger, right? Or is that strong stance just a mask for your weak self, like thorns adorning a rose? Such a pretty rose, I must add, however.”

“Pathetic. I want you to tell me exactly what you were doing at the shrine.” Yelan’s tone is condescending, as if she is explaining how to carry out a simple task such as pouring a glass of water. To this, you twitch very slightly. The Kamisato Clan may have supplied you a lot of money, on the condition that you help the head of the household, Ayato, settle the score with Lady Yae, Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, by allowing yourself to… indulge in some risque adventures with him, very close to the premises but not close enough so that Lady Yae Miko could kick you two out but could only watch or listen as he ravaged you. “I-“

“You..?” Yelan urges you on, lightly smacking your thigh, and she scoffs as she finds a hickey Ayato leaves on the underside of the skin. “What a slut, the “heroic outlander” seems to have been taken by someone else too.” You don’t want to tell her that you’ve also been “taken” or nearly “taken” by the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, the Darknight Hero, the Chief Alchemist, the Geo Archon, the Tianqian of the Liyue Qixing, the Captain of the Crux fleet, the wandering samurai from Inazuma and the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan. (Guuji Yae is awaiting your return to Inazuma too, perhaps waiting for the opportunity to dress you in the finest of silks only to rip them apart and watch you scream for her in the bushes next to the Kamisato Household, strategically placed next to the room in which Kamisato Ayato files his paperwork.)

“I…” You try to continue but your voice wavers and knees buckle when Yelan’s hand travels from your stomach to flick at your nipple.

“I thought that the Hero of Mondstadt, Saviour of Liyue and the Miracle of Inazuma would be a beacon of innocence and purity, but here you are, throwing your pathetic self at anyone you set eyes on.” She accentuates the adjective of your supposed reputation with a harsh spank.

“I-I’m sorry, Yelan!” You sniff behind the glazed wall of tears that fill your eyes from how humiliating the position you’re in is, both literally and figuratively. The pain of her words and hand only enhance the shameful heat blooming in your lower stomach, threatening to make its presence known in liquid form. 

“Aww, poor darling.” Childe gently brings your face towards his own and wipes away the tears on your bottom lash line. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and your fingertips above your head, a predatory expression graces his visage. “Miss Yelan, you can’t be too rough with the Saviour of Liyue, they might not be pure or innocent, but neither are we. And anyways, the Traveller is too stupid to understand how much power their secret partners have over them. They’re too naive and are probably all fucked out from a single kiss to understand what’s going on. I’m sorry, angel, but I’m very right, aren’t I?” One look into his cerulean blue eyes, the colour vibrant under the moonlight, makes you realise he is not sorry in the slightest. This faux pity only makes you melt and you try to avert your gaze because the heat is simply too much. 

“I think we need to loosen that mouth of yours in order to get the truth out of you, thoughts, Harbinger?” Her cold voice clashes against the hot lilt in Tartaglia’s voice. Both degrade you in different manners: Childe with his tantalizing and cooing, which makes you feel small and helpless, and Yelan with her name calling and severe reprimands. 

“I agree.” He props you back to his original position after unbuckling his belt and handing it to the dark haired lady. 

“Count for me, stupid slut.” And seven consecutive whips on your ass and upper thighs leave you trembling and squealing. “You can barely get your words out, stop muttering.” And she uses her hand to spank you for an eighth time, and you count properly. To your relief, a “nine” on the tip of your tongue turns into an “eight” on reflex. 

“You’re doing so well for us Traveller. If you just tell us what you were doing at the shrine, we won’t be mad. I’m sure your pretty little head can’t think of any ways to escape this place, so speak up and we’ll be very gentle~” He hums, but you know very well the last time he promised to be “gentle” he nearly killed you. Literally. 

“I… Well…” You tremble like a leaf at the thought of the wrath of this unlikely alliance. If Lady Yae were to find you, would she find you in one piece? 

As if she reads your thoughts, she leans over your body and whispers into your ear, “We can always contact the Shrine Maiden, Ganyu writes to her regularly, see what she says. I hear she’s got an excellent memory.” 

“No! No need! Really!” You blurt out and Tartaglia’s fingers stop petting your head and instead rub the small of your back. 

“I’ve found bite marks on the Outlander’s thighs, some rabid fox has chewed you up. I wonder if that’s how you got the money from that rich Inazuman family. Why not indulge us, slut?” Yelan registers the fact that Ajax is extremely possessive, and she plays her cards flawlessly. 

Before you could explain yourself through small whispers and squeaks, Childe cups your cheeks with both of his hands and you can look nowhere except the eyes that were once friendly wash away and darken visibly. Cobalt blue meets teary doe eyes, and he scoffs. 

“Of all the people, that asshole? I would rather you go make out with his little sister, but him? He killed many Fatui. You are in huge trouble, comrade, and this is me done playing nice.”

And so the tides turn. 

Instead of being on either side of you, Yelan is fully in front of your trembling form and Childe is directly behind. You know he’s getting an eyeful of the red marks on your derriere and hear the little laugh he gives as he slots his left thigh in between your own exposed ones. Yelan’s hands grip your hips and force your crotch to come in contact with the taller man’s muscled thighs, a sweet smile graces her face: “Honey, it’s alright to tell us exactly what he did to you.” Her hands leave your hips and a hydro dice forms with a flick of her fingers. “If I roll an even number, you’re going to get overstimulated, and if I roll an odd number, it’ll be a miracle if you get to cum at all.” She laughs as the dice rolls across the floor.

“I prefer overstimulation: it makes the prisoner more vulnerable and twitchy. Plus, I think that sensitive bodies are easier to take control of, especially when they can barely take anymore.” Childe states, flexing his thigh to prove a point. You, of course, feel this minor action right where it’s the most sensitive. The waves are already growing in size, the pit of your stomach bubbles with anticipation and arousal. 

“Well, we’re in a dilemma because I’ve rolled a three,” the opaque blue dice disintegrates into water droplets and the young lady places her hands on your hips again, forcing them to grind on the grey pants underneath. The friction makes you whimper under your breath but the ever so observant Yelan is hot on your trail. “Feel good, love? You want more?” You nod dumbly in reply. “I see. Then tell us, did Lord Kamisato tie you up like this? Hmm? Make you look pretty and presentable?” You nod affirmatively, Ayato used the ribbon from his outfit and a few shawls from the nearby boutique to make you more helpless as a punishment for not being loud enough for Yae to hear, he even blindfolded you to make sure that you wouldn’t be disobedient. 

Tartaglia pinches both of your nipples, his breath hot and filled with fury as he jostles you on his thigh. Yelan continues to question you and control your hip movements at the same time. “My goodness me, you poor thing. Though I would do the same, I hear Inazumans like to tie their partners up with a very intricate pattern in mind.” Shibari. Kazuha had definitely made sure you knew that after a long night of drinking sake, he was gentle and loving, yet almost just as dangerous as the two fellows you’re with now. “Did this Kamisato mark you elsewhere? Any healed bruises?” 

You’re too busy moaning quietly and hiccuping back tears to verbally reply, so you tilt your head to reveal a bite mark on the junction between your collarbone and neck. Yelan’s eyes once again flash blue, and she peers over you to look at Childe. “Harbinger, let’s make a bet.”  

“Alright.” 

“If we make the Traveller cum in five minutes, this little mess can take it until they pass out. If not, they aren’t allowed to for the rest of the night.” Ningguang hadn’t allowed you cum a few times and it hurt oh so very much, but you knew that overstimulation wasn't any better through Thoma, sweet and angelic Thoma, got so over excited that he didn’t even realise he had made you orgasm three times in the span of twenty minutes. 

“Accepted!” Tartaglia snickers in glee as his knees start to bounce you up and down whilst Yelan moves you back and forth like a ragdoll. Oh how the waves crash and throw you around, how they taunt you and bully you into submission. 

“No, no please!” You gasp as Childe nibbles on the hickey Ayato left on you. Surely they wouldn’t do something so cruel and heartless? Surely, surely, they wouldn’t be so mean to you. Even Kaeya, who promised to leave you high and dry if you made too much noise in the Acting Grandmaster’s office, caved in and gave you what you needed. If Captain Kaeya can be merciful, then surely your two captors could do the same. 

Oh how wrong you are. 

“You need saving, honey? Perhaps Mr. Zhongli can come in, he’s certainly a heroic man. A refined gentleman. However I hear he demands perfect obedience in bed, perhaps you’d know, Traveller?” Her voice is too sweet, too sugarcoated, just like honey. And you, stuck in this pool of honey, can barely move as the thick substance slows your movements and time all in one go. How does she read you? How does she piece together such facts from fine fragments?

“Xiangsheng too? Who haven’t you fallen in the trap of? Next time we meet in the Liuli Pavilion, I’ll make sure to exchange notes. You should tag along, I’m sure he’d love to hear how many people you’ve opened your legs for. I spotted him buying a nice whip from Ying’er a month ago. Maybe your ass was spared by us today but Mr. Zhongli will make sure you can no longer sit.” He bounces his thigh even faster, and you see Yelan’s eyes glint cruelly.

“Really, you poor bunny, you’re absolutely drenched! You just keep wanting more, don’t you?” She lifts your hips effortlessly, and laughs mockingly at the darker grey spot on the Harbinger’s pants. The waves gradually build up and are about to crash down to lead to your climax. Maybe it’s Yelan’s lipstick staining your lips and neck, or Ajax’s bite marks decorating your waist, neck and thighs like petals.

And being the avid mind reader that she is, Yelan catches on faster than a racing stream along the Liyue countryside. She knows that you’re close, so she makes you grind further down onto him, though her grip has considerably loosened because you started moving on your own, so drunk from pleasure that you mindlessly chase it and sacrifice your ego. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, and certainly not the last. 

A sharp jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine, and you finally unravel. The waves lash into the sky and come crashing down onto the shoreline, the seafoam still there to mess with you.) Limp in your binds, a cry and sweet whispers of faux sympathy fill the jail cell along with ragged pants. The strong aroma of sex taints the room, and in the corner of your eye, you look at the photo of you robbing the bank once more. The tears of post orgasmic bliss clear away. 

“You really came at exactly five minutes, what are we supposed to do with you?” Yelan wipes your tears away with the fluffy sleeve of the  jacket draped around her shoulders and Tartaglia removes his thigh, grimacing and grinning at the same time. 

“I say we go with overstim.”

“They’re my capture, Harbinger.” 

“And this is my holding cell.”  

The words blur in your head as the moon, higher in the sky, focuses on the date on the corner of the photo.

Five months before you headed to Liyue, when Childe let you take money from the banks. That’s why elemental traces of anemo and geo were left, you hadn’t even resonated with electro yet.

They framed you. 

“B-but, the date…” is all you can say, words failing to form because your head is filled with honey and lust and want and greed, for more, just a slight touch or a sliver of attention from them, the strong and opposing waves that push and pull you apart, like a flower unfurling its petals. “The picture was ages ago… Not last week.” 

Childe and Yelan both blink at you, amused. 

“I told you, Miss Yelan, they’re not brain dead. Although they’re usually quite quick to catch on, I’m sure it’s because they’ve never dealt with two people before, it clouded their judgement.” You gape at them, the reality sinking in.

"Why..? Why did you?" You glare at Ajax defiantly, though you're not really mad, and they both know it. "What was your motive? I know you don't share." 

He pouts, feigning innocence: "You know me, I nearly drowned Liyue so I'm working with Miss Yelan to rebuild my reputation in exchange for information on what the other Fatui are up to. She caught quite a big traitor, and myself a nice raise, so we decided to indulge in something. A reward, if you will. "

Yelan nods, a small smile on her face. "He told me tales of you and your adventures. I had to see you for myself, it's only an extra I got to really enjoy your moaning." You nod at her politely, arms still above your head. 

"We're not done yet, comrade." Tartaglia's eyes soften as he approaches you, undoing his scarf with one hand and another resting on your pelvis. Something blossoms across the space and you can only gasp in awe as a riptide mark is applied, a light pulse to your groin every few seconds and a stronger pulse if he touches any part of you with infused hydro. "Let's have a rematch, since the last one was a tie." 

"Yes, the night is still young, is it not?" You feel her palms spread your legs, the evidence of your orgasm still evident. Her grin turns into a scowl of impatience and her demeanour changes once more. The hand she runs through your hair curls into a fist and you yelp, helpless.

"We never did get you to tell us what you were doing at the Grand Narukami Shrine in full detail. Why not start with that? Get to it, slut." She slaps your cheek in a way that is not gentle or rough, with Ajax to kiss it all better. 

Once again, the tides turn, and you, the flower amongst the waves, can only go with the flow…

[can-you-let-me-take-a-nap]

Flower Amongst The Waves | ༄

♡ 。Childe x Reader x Yelan

Warnings: Dub-con, spanking, bondage, interrogation, degrading, praise, good cop bad cop, reader is Traveller, gender-neutral reader, they/them, mentions of blindfolding, mentions of lingerie, mentions of other characters, name calling (reader is called a slut),reader is caught in 4k (both literally and figuratively as the word count is 4k)

.｡..｡.:*･Venom, you say? But I think you’re the one intoxicating me…･*:.｡. .｡.:

Cool metal envelops your wrists, cool as the lakes in Mount Aocang. It acts as a source of relief from the harrowing heat of adrenaline engulfing your body. The handcuffs force your hands above your head and chains dangle from the ceiling. The room is void of light and no matter how much you try to let escape the tiniest bit of elemental energy, not even a hushed grumble of geo, a faint whisper of ameno, nor a confined crackle of electro escape any part of your being. You note that the ground and the room have been heated very slightly, warming your legs sprawled in a disorganised fashion. An anomaly. This room void of light, proper windows and people, is a room intended for torture. You’d know, the Kujou Commission’s domain making sure to teach you this very lesson as you and Yoimiya went off to fight the Fatui. 

Wait, the Fatui..?

You spot the crimson insignia imprinted on the door handle, looking awfully like an empty gun barrel, through the sliver of azure tinted moonlight that creeps through the barred windows, blacked out by wiring. Although the blazing torment of humiliation licks at you, hope swells in your chest knowing that Tartaglia will free you from this unfortunate predicament. 

Speak of the devil.

A rattle of a doorknob. The creak of a jail cell. The gentle jingle of an earring against fabric. The clacking of a pair of heels.

No, two pairs of heels. 

In your vision, swims not one, but two figures. A flick of a switch and the room is dimly lit, and you allow your eyes to fixate on the bodies looming over your own.

“Comrade, I must say I’m thoroughly disappointed.” A saccharine voice matches an equally saccharine grin, “Stealing from Northland Bank and caught red-handed just a week later? I thought you fought a god?”

What..? 

“N-no, Tartaglia, you’ve got the wrong person. It really wasn��t me. I have no use for money, you know that! The Kamisato Clan paid me favourably, and Beidou gave me a share of the loot we got to keep when defeating treasure hoarders by the coasts of Inazuma. I still have most of the money you gave me when Teucer snuck into Liyue!” 

Cool yet wild blue eyes look you up and down, and your ears heat up as you look up at him from your knees. Your gaze flickers to the side of the room to remedy the sheer embarrassment of his unhinged gaze, yet you are met with feline eyes, the iridescent hue like the depths of a tropical sea. They glow in the dark briefly and buzz with an emotion that you can’t put your finger on.

“Miss, do you think we ought to deal with the Traveller?” The redhead’s voice is tinted with a sense of playful sadism as his gaze burns you even further.

The woman in question has a catlike grin blooming on her face as an idea visibly pops into her head. Her pinky-purple lips glisten in the light. “I have heard how Fatui deals with liars, though I’m sure this one is luckier than the others.” The harsh fragrance of leather and a hint of orchid wafts around you as she inspects your petrified visage, her predatory expression tells you that you are the mouse to this catlike woman: “I believe that this one should leave alive, yet not unscathed.”

A gentle yet dangerous chuckle echoes in the prison cell, “Don’t look like that, Traveller. We won’t kill you, but we will enjoy the thrill of finally hunting you down.” The words he utters are laced with an emotion heavier, muskier than bloodlust. You’ve fought and sparred with him many times, you know what he sounds like when he wants to fight. You know that he doesn’t want a duel. His words usually become more slurred and his eyes less focused, but now his voice is both teasing and as gentle as a chime of an ornament and it rivals the glazed over yet evermore intent expression on his face. “You thought we wouldn’t notice? Kameras aren’t just used for pretty pictures, they monitor the vaults and pictures are taken every thirty seconds, just to catch you in the act. Well, I would say that this image is quite pretty, seeing as you’re in it.” The eleventh Harbinger waves a piece of paper in front of your face, and a figure that looks much like yourself captures the moment of gloved hands gripping the vault handles, the metal door already half-open. 

“That’s… That’s not me..! Well, it looks like me, but I swear I wasn’t even in Liyue last week, I arrived three days ago. You can ask Beid-“ You pause, knowing that you teleported on the way back instead of taking the ship due to the many stops before you went back that would waste your time. 

“The Captain who is halfway to Mondstadt? Oh dear, it seems you don’t have an alibi after all.” The woman’s voice is mature, smooth and refined like red wine; a stark contrast to Tartaglia’s. Her expression is unreadable, but her half-lidded eyes suggest she is going to enjoy whatever she has in store for you. Her breath licks your face, and she whispers into your ear as a leathered finger brushes your hair behind your ear. “I am an investigator sent from the Liyue Qixing. The name’s Yelan, keep that in mind because you’ll be screaming it a lot tonight.”  The waves that once grazed your feet produce a huge wave that lifts your body into the sea: this emotion you couldn’t grasp, the meaning of the gazes that simply washed away and slipped through your fingers as you tried to understand them: it was lust. 

You curl into yourself a little more, cowering from Yelan who now joins you on the floor, but the Harbinger’s long fingers supporting your back from behind keep you in place. The room heats up even more and you wish that it was the temperature of Dragonspine now. “I promise I’m not the thief, you know that I helped rebuild the Jade Chamber, that Lady Ningguang would help me if I needed anything! Even… Even you would, right?” Your voice is no longer confused, but you squirm very slightly as Childe trails a finger up your ankle.

“Of course, outlander. I am always here to defend you, which is precisely why you’re going to leave with all of your limbs intact. I call it a bargain, comrade.” His hands travel to your waist and you try to wriggle. The pair chuckle as you try to escape from them.

“These chains are manufactured for interrogations, you know? You can’t escape them, Traveller. You’re welcome to keep squirming, though, it’s fun to watch you struggle.” The  woman digs her fingers into your chin when you look away from her. “Has no one taught you any manners? First you steal, now you won’t look at me when you’re speaking? Dirty brat.” Her refined drawl turns into a growl at the last two words, and she yanks your hair to keep you in check. The sharp burning in your scalp makes you hiss in pain and the gloved finger from behind you traces a line from the back of your neck to the  small of your back neutralise the hot sensation with its cool touch. Tears from the pain dot the rim of your eyes and gleam on your lashes like diamonds, and you can practically hear the sneer the young woman wears on her elegant face. “No alibi, photographic evidence, and obvious trails of geo and ameno in one set of footprints. What say you, outlander?”

“I say nothing. No offense Miss Yelan, but I’m really innocent! On the day of the robbery, I was visiting the Grand Narukami Shrine, please, if I could allow you to-“ You are interrupted by the sound of a zip and the ruffling of clothes, silk slips down your legs, along with your underwear in one graceful swoop. “Childe-!” You squeak and try to use your legs to hide yourself. The pair switch places and now you have Yelan tracing circular patterns on your bare back and Tartaglia brushing stray hair out of your face. His pink lips are pursed and freckles dot his cheeks, bold and pretty like the stars in the night sky. His dark lashes flutter at the view of your bare form. 

“You call me Ajax here, comrade. Although I have been called “Master” by the many poor souls who have found themselves within the cells underneath Northland Bank, I can make an exception for you.” You shake your head and try to kick your legs as Yelan unfurls your legs  and your behind is lifted from your heels. Her hand is splayed on your stomach, the pads of her fingers rough. “Now, comrade, why was Paimon here, and not yourself five nights ago?” His arms wrap around you in a manner akin to an embrace, but the man has your chin propped over his shoulder. His right hand laces through your hair to soothe the remnants of the sting and another rubs circles on expanse of skin on your bottom.

You feel so hot, even though the lack of clothing should make you colder, the blazing lust that radiates the bodies surrounding you have blanketed your body in its searing warmth. “Paimon-“ You start, and you jolt as Yelan squeezes your supple flesh behind you. Childe kisses a spot underneath your ear to soothe you. “Paimon was recovering from the Electro overstimulation when we faced off against the Mikoto-“ A sharp slap to your ass from Yelan prevents you from speaking, you bury your face in Tartaglia’s shoulder as you quiver from the reeling shock. “Why? Miss Yelan, I really am telling the truth!” Childe hushes you and Yelan takes her hand off the skin, likely light red from impact. You naively misunderstand this silence as a signal of her reconsideration of her actions, but another harsh spank to your other side which causes a tear to escape your eye proves you very wrong. 

Yelan digs her nails into the flesh she struck just a moment ago and you slump over the Harbinger’s strong frame, who starts to coo at your pitiful state. “Poor thing, already trembling and it’s only been a few minutes. You can’t be this fragile in the face of danger, right? Or is that strong stance just a mask for your weak self, like thorns adorning a rose? Such a pretty rose, I must add, however.”

“Pathetic. I want you to tell me exactly what you were doing at the shrine.” Yelan’s tone is condescending, as if she is explaining how to carry out a simple task such as pouring a glass of water. To this, you twitch very slightly. The Kamisato Clan may have supplied you a lot of money, on the condition that you help the head of the household, Ayato, settle the score with Lady Yae, Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, by allowing yourself to… indulge in some risque adventures with him, very close to the premises but not close enough so that Lady Yae Miko could kick you two out but could only watch or listen as he ravaged you. “I-“

“You..?” Yelan urges you on, lightly smacking your thigh, and she scoffs as she finds a hickey Ayato leaves on the underside of the skin. “What a slut, the “heroic outlander” seems to have been taken by someone else too.” You don’t want to tell her that you’ve also been “taken” or nearly “taken” by the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, the Darknight Hero, the Chief Alchemist, the Geo Archon, the Tianqian of the Liyue Qixing, the Captain of the Crux fleet, the wandering samurai from Inazuma and the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan. (Guuji Yae is awaiting your return to Inazuma too, perhaps waiting for the opportunity to dress you in the finest of silks only to rip them apart and watch you scream for her in the bushes next to the Kamisato Household, strategically placed next to the room in which Kamisato Ayato files his paperwork.)

“I…” You try to continue but your voice wavers and knees buckle when Yelan’s hand travels from your stomach to flick at your nipple.

“I thought that the Hero of Mondstadt, Saviour of Liyue and the Miracle of Inazuma would be a beacon of innocence and purity, but here you are, throwing your pathetic self at anyone you set eyes on.” She accentuates the adjective of your supposed reputation with a harsh spank.

“I-I’m sorry, Yelan!” You sniff behind the glazed wall of tears that fill your eyes from how humiliating the position you’re in is, both literally and figuratively. The pain of her words and hand only enhance the shameful heat blooming in your lower stomach, threatening to make its presence known in liquid form. 

“Aww, poor darling.” Childe gently brings your face towards his own and wipes away the tears on your bottom lash line. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and your fingertips above your head, a predatory expression graces his visage. “Miss Yelan, you can’t be too rough with the Saviour of Liyue, they might not be pure or innocent, but neither are we. And anyways, the Traveller is too stupid to understand how much power their secret partners have over them. They’re too naive and are probably all fucked out from a single kiss to understand what’s going on. I’m sorry, angel, but I’m very right, aren’t I?” One look into his cerulean blue eyes, the colour vibrant under the moonlight, makes you realise he is not sorry in the slightest. This faux pity only makes you melt and you try to avert your gaze because the heat is simply too much. 

“I think we need to loosen that mouth of yours in order to get the truth out of you, thoughts, Harbinger?” Her cold voice clashes against the hot lilt in Tartaglia’s voice. Both degrade you in different manners: Childe with his tantalizing and cooing, which makes you feel small and helpless, and Yelan with her name calling and severe reprimands. 

“I agree.” He props you back to his original position after unbuckling his belt and handing it to the dark haired lady. 

“Count for me, stupid slut.” And seven consecutive whips on your ass and upper thighs leave you trembling and squealing. “You can barely get your words out, stop muttering.” And she uses her hand to spank you for an eighth time, and you count properly. To your relief, a “nine” on the tip of your tongue turns into an “eight” on reflex. 

“You’re doing so well for us Traveller. If you just tell us what you were doing at the shrine, we won’t be mad. I’m sure your pretty little head can’t think of any ways to escape this place, so speak up and we’ll be very gentle~” He hums, but you know very well the last time he promised to be “gentle” he nearly killed you. Literally. 

“I… Well…” You tremble like a leaf at the thought of the wrath of this unlikely alliance. If Lady Yae were to find you, would she find you in one piece? 

As if she reads your thoughts, she leans over your body and whispers into your ear, “We can always contact the Shrine Maiden, Ganyu writes to her regularly, see what she says. I hear she’s got an excellent memory.” 

“No! No need! Really!” You blurt out and Tartaglia’s fingers stop petting your head and instead rub the small of your back. 

“I’ve found bite marks on the Outlander’s thighs, some rabid fox has chewed you up. I wonder if that’s how you got the money from that rich Inazuman family. Why not indulge us, slut?” Yelan registers the fact that Ajax is extremely possessive, and she plays her cards flawlessly. 

Before you could explain yourself through small whispers and squeaks, Childe cups your cheeks with both of his hands and you can look nowhere except the eyes that were once friendly wash away and darken visibly. Cobalt blue meets teary doe eyes, and he scoffs. 

“Of all the people, that asshole? I would rather you go make out with his little sister, but him? He killed many Fatui. You are in huge trouble, comrade, and this is me done playing nice.”

And so the tides turn. 

Instead of being on either side of you, Yelan is fully in front of your trembling form and Childe is directly behind. You know he’s getting an eyeful of the red marks on your derriere and hear the little laugh he gives as he slots his left thigh in between your own exposed ones. Yelan’s hands grip your hips and force your crotch to come in contact with the taller man’s muscled thighs, a sweet smile graces her face: “Honey, it’s alright to tell us exactly what he did to you.” Her hands leave your hips and a hydro dice forms with a flick of her fingers. “If I roll an even number, you’re going to get overstimulated, and if I roll an odd number, it’ll be a miracle if you get to cum at all.” She laughs as the dice rolls across the floor.

“I prefer overstimulation: it makes the prisoner more vulnerable and twitchy. Plus, I think that sensitive bodies are easier to take control of, especially when they can barely take anymore.” Childe states, flexing his thigh to prove a point. You, of course, feel this minor action right where it’s the most sensitive. The waves are already growing in size, the pit of your stomach bubbles with anticipation and arousal. 

“Well, we’re in a dilemma because I’ve rolled a three,” the opaque blue dice disintegrates into water droplets and the young lady places her hands on your hips again, forcing them to grind on the grey pants underneath. The friction makes you whimper under your breath but the ever so observant Yelan is hot on your trail. “Feel good, love? You want more?” You nod dumbly in reply. “I see. Then tell us, did Lord Kamisato tie you up like this? Hmm? Make you look pretty and presentable?” You nod affirmatively, Ayato used the ribbon from his outfit and a few shawls from the nearby boutique to make you more helpless as a punishment for not being loud enough for Yae to hear, he even blindfolded you to make sure that you wouldn’t be disobedient. 

Tartaglia pinches both of your nipples, his breath hot and filled with fury as he jostles you on his thigh. Yelan continues to question you and control your hip movements at the same time. “My goodness me, you poor thing. Though I would do the same, I hear Inazumans like to tie their partners up with a very intricate pattern in mind.” Shibari. Kazuha had definitely made sure you knew that after a long night of drinking sake, he was gentle and loving, yet almost just as dangerous as the two fellows you’re with now. “Did this Kamisato mark you elsewhere? Any healed bruises?” 

You’re too busy moaning quietly and hiccuping back tears to verbally reply, so you tilt your head to reveal a bite mark on the junction between your collarbone and neck. Yelan’s eyes once again flash blue, and she peers over you to look at Childe. “Harbinger, let’s make a bet.”  

“Alright.” 

“If we make the Traveller cum in five minutes, this little mess can take it until they pass out. If not, they aren’t allowed to for the rest of the night.” Ningguang hadn’t allowed you cum a few times and it hurt oh so very much, but you knew that overstimulation wasn't any better through Thoma, sweet and angelic Thoma, got so over excited that he didn’t even realise he had made you orgasm three times in the span of twenty minutes. 

“Accepted!” Tartaglia snickers in glee as his knees start to bounce you up and down whilst Yelan moves you back and forth like a ragdoll. Oh how the waves crash and throw you around, how they taunt you and bully you into submission. 

“No, no please!” You gasp as Childe nibbles on the hickey Ayato left on you. Surely they wouldn’t do something so cruel and heartless? Surely, surely, they wouldn’t be so mean to you. Even Kaeya, who promised to leave you high and dry if you made too much noise in the Acting Grandmaster’s office, caved in and gave you what you needed. If Captain Kaeya can be merciful, then surely your two captors could do the same. 

Oh how wrong you are. 

“You need saving, honey? Perhaps Mr. Zhongli can come in, he’s certainly a heroic man. A refined gentleman. However I hear he demands perfect obedience in bed, perhaps you’d know, Traveller?” Her voice is too sweet, too sugarcoated, just like honey. And you, stuck in this pool of honey, can barely move as the thick substance slows your movements and time all in one go. How does she read you? How does she piece together such facts from fine fragments?

“Xiangsheng too? Who haven’t you fallen in the trap of? Next time we meet in the Liuli Pavilion, I’ll make sure to exchange notes. You should tag along, I’m sure he’d love to hear how many people you’ve opened your legs for. I spotted him buying a nice whip from Ying’er a month ago. Maybe your ass was spared by us today but Mr. Zhongli will make sure you can no longer sit.” He bounces his thigh even faster, and you see Yelan’s eyes glint cruelly.

“Really, you poor bunny, you’re absolutely drenched! You just keep wanting more, don’t you?” She lifts your hips effortlessly, and laughs mockingly at the darker grey spot on the Harbinger’s pants. The waves gradually build up and are about to crash down to lead to your climax. Maybe it’s Yelan’s lipstick staining your lips and neck, or Ajax’s bite marks decorating your waist, neck and thighs like petals.

And being the avid mind reader that she is, Yelan catches on faster than a racing stream along the Liyue countryside. She knows that you’re close, so she makes you grind further down onto him, though her grip has considerably loosened because you started moving on your own, so drunk from pleasure that you mindlessly chase it and sacrifice your ego. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, and certainly not the last. 

A sharp jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine, and you finally unravel. The waves lash into the sky and come crashing down onto the shoreline, the seafoam still there to mess with you.) Limp in your binds, a cry and sweet whispers of faux sympathy fill the jail cell along with ragged pants. The strong aroma of sex taints the room, and in the corner of your eye, you look at the photo of you robbing the bank once more. The tears of post orgasmic bliss clear away. 

“You really came at exactly five minutes, what are we supposed to do with you?” Yelan wipes your tears away with the fluffy sleeve of the  jacket draped around her shoulders and Tartaglia removes his thigh, grimacing and grinning at the same time. 

“I say we go with overstim.”

“They’re my capture, Harbinger.” 

“And this is my holding cell.”  

The words blur in your head as the moon, higher in the sky, focuses on the date on the corner of the photo.

Five months before you headed to Liyue, when Childe let you take money from the banks. That’s why elemental traces of anemo and geo were left, you hadn’t even resonated with electro yet.

They framed you. 

“B-but, the date…” is all you can say, words failing to form because your head is filled with honey and lust and want and greed, for more, just a slight touch or a sliver of attention from them, the strong and opposing waves that push and pull you apart, like a flower unfurling its petals. “The picture was ages ago… Not last week.” 

Childe and Yelan both blink at you, amused. 

“I told you, Miss Yelan, they’re not brain dead. Although they’re usually quite quick to catch on, I’m sure it’s because they’ve never dealt with two people before, it clouded their judgement.” You gape at them, the reality sinking in.

"Why..? Why did you?" You glare at Ajax defiantly, though you're not really mad, and they both know it. "What was your motive? I know you don't share." 

He pouts, feigning innocence: "You know me, I nearly drowned Liyue so I'm working with Miss Yelan to rebuild my reputation in exchange for information on what the other Fatui are up to. She caught quite a big traitor, and myself a nice raise, so we decided to indulge in something. A reward, if you will. "

Yelan nods, a small smile on her face. "He told me tales of you and your adventures. I had to see you for myself, it's only an extra I got to really enjoy your moaning." You nod at her politely, arms still above your head. 

"We're not done yet, comrade." Tartaglia's eyes soften as he approaches you, undoing his scarf with one hand and another resting on your pelvis. Something blossoms across the space and you can only gasp in awe as a riptide mark is applied, a light pulse to your groin every few seconds and a stronger pulse if he touches any part of you with infused hydro. "Let's have a rematch, since the last one was a tie." 

"Yes, the night is still young, is it not?" You feel her palms spread your legs, the evidence of your orgasm still evident. Her grin turns into a scowl of impatience and her demeanour changes once more. The hand she runs through your hair curls into a fist and you yelp, helpless.

"We never did get you to tell us what you were doing at the Grand Narukami Shrine in full detail. Why not start with that? Get to it, slut." She slaps your cheek in a way that is not gentle or rough, with Ajax to kiss it all better. 

Once again, the tides turn, and you, the flower amongst the waves, can only go with the flow…