#the others probably bullied him when he first became a harbinger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trickstarbrave · 5 months

Text

ACTUALLY WHILE I AM HERE...

this is a wip i never finished of baldur, my nb/trans masc dragonborn in an au where he joined the companions. because werewolves are hot. okay.

i do need to finish this but yknow. nerevar brainrot. you know how it is.

but here is what i got so far :v might even post the one with him and alduin in his main story LMAOOO

warning because i think i mention SA in this story. baldur has a lot of trauma. but i dont think this one was as heavy as the main au which goes into more detail. mostly horny werewolf shenanigans.

Baldur had been in the Companions for some time now. He was the newest member, and for a while, that made him the easy to bully underling until he climbed up the ranks and proved his ability. Until he joined the inner circle that is, and quickly fell back down to being treated like a pup after he got his lycanthrope.

The worst part was his new wolf instincts kind of liked it.

Before, Baldur despised being looked down upon, being condescended to, and being pushed around. It almost always came with bigotry and harassment after all, people ridiculing him and nitpicking everything he did.

But here, he knew they didn’t have any malice. Shortly after he first joined, several newer members were dismissed because they were trying to harass him. And if they truly didn’t like him, the inner circle would have just killed him after he uncovered their secret. It would have been easy, after all, for Farkas to just rip him to pieces and say the Silver Hand killed him on that mission so long ago.

Which meant that, while annoying, they were genuine attempts to teach him or just keeping him in the pack order. Vilkas regularly corrected his form, reminding him he was a warrior now, not a scrappy boy who had to learn to defend himself. Aela often took him hunting and then criticized him for making too much noise, but showed him carefully how to fix it. And outside of that, they often shoulder checked him around Jorvaskr just because they could, if they weren’t messing up his hair or pulling him in headlocks.

The behavior should annoy him more than anything. It did still annoy him a little, but instead of that being the main feeling, it was his wolf instincts eager to come out with excitement and delight at the recognition.

Baldur thought, after he became harbinger and everything, it would come to a stop. Sure his wolf half was disappointed at the prospect, but his human half still didn’t like how comfortable he was getting with people being touchy-feely around him. He wanted to hate their touches and comments, and be mostly alone like he always was.

Of course, like most things, he wouldn’t get what he wished. If anything the remaining werewolves paid more attention to him, even lifting him up in big bear hugs when he’d come back from missions. Sure he was a little shorter than Aela even, but why was she still calling him pup and picking him up too?!

It was starting to make him feel… Weird. That’s all he could describe it as. Just plain weird. Maybe his wolf half was happy at the recognition, but there was a mix of other things in the emotion stew bubbling inside him he didn’t have names for. Instead he always found himself squirming around in their hold trying to get away like a pissed off cat before the emotions bubbled over, something that then made him embarrassed later.

Not to mention, he was starting to feel feverish. He shouldn’t be sick—lycanthropes we’re immune to all other diseases. Yet here he was, feeling sluggish and warm, not to mention sweaty and gross.

Whatever. He’d take a few days off and laze around Jorrvaskr hoping it went away. It was probably overwork and exhaustion—divine’s know he can’t get a good night’s sleep with the beast blood.

—

He was on day three of issuing out missions and mostly resting when Vilkas approached him.

“Harbinger.”

“Hm?” Baldur looked up from the meat he was currently scarfing down. Why was he so fucking hungry lately? “What is it?” Most of the other companions were either out of the hall or not paying any attention.

“The others of the circle want to have a meeting.” He said with a smile. “Nothing too serious.”

“Ah,” Right, it had been a while. Maybe it was to discuss a new member joining, or something else. But if it was casual, it was probably just going to be some light discussion in privacy. “I’ll be there tonight then.”

Vilkas’ eyes softened slightly, before he gave a pat to his shoulder. “I’ll see you there then.” Just as Baldur was going to take another bite, Vilkas slid his hand up his shoulder, past Baldur’s hair to stroke his neck lightly. Instantly Baldur tensed and shivered, a complex mess of emotions soon following in waves before he felt hot again. His hand trembled slightly as he felt his face heating up. As soon as Vilkas walked away, Baldur was up and stomping downstairs, face beet red and eyebrows furrowed, one hand covering his mouth.

What was wrong with him?!

Down in the harbinger’s bedroom his breathing was heavy, and all of his clothes felt too warm. He locked the door and stripped, the flush now moving to his ears and chest as the sensation of Vilkas stroking his shoulder and neck replayed over and over in his head. As soon as he got to his underwear, discarding them as well, he gasped.

He was fucking wet.

By Dibella he was fucking soaked.

Baldur covered his mouth in shock, fingers confirming that yes, he was super fucking wet. Not to mention he felt so fucking sensitive, jolting every time his fingers brushed against his clit.

What the fuck?! Not only did Baldur usually not get aroused by other people—too much trauma from years of abuse—if he did get aroused it wasn’t very strong. When he decided to blow off steam by masturbating, it took him quite a while to actual work himself up and orgasm. Not to mention, Vilkas hadn’t fucking done anything. He touched his shoulder and the back of his neck a little, the small patch of skin above his collar and usually hidden under his hair in just a light, almost teasing brush—

“Ah~” He slid two fingers inside himself quickly just imagining it. How would those large hands feel on other parts of his body, running down his torso or up his thighs? The familiar scent of his packmate seemed to cling in the air and on his skin, and his legs trembled at the thought. The urge to run out of the room and bury his face in the larger werewolf’s bed was strong, and inhaling his scent completely would probably be enough to make him cum instantly.

Fuck—what was wrong with him?! Why was he touching himself like this to the thought of Vilkas?! Sure his packmate had been nice to him—that was part of the deal, a requirement to be a cohesive unit both as companions and a werewolf pack. They were all nice and decent people who showed him not everyone would look at him with malice and disgust for his body and gender.

But a lack of disgust did not imply attraction. He was terrified of getting ahead of himself, of mistaking comradery and simple courtesy for friendship or even attraction. He was a loner at heart, since he was young, even if his wolf blood liked the safety of a pack. That’s all he was—a leader with some respect, a guildmate, and a packmate. He didn’t want to expect there to be anymore, not when he knew what might happen if he did.

Except that wasn’t stopping the other part of him from going wild, now slumped over the bed, whining as quietly as possible as his fingers rubbed back and forth against his clit.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mumbled into the fabric. He was only getting wetter somehow, slick dripping down his thighs. Drool began to soak into the wool blanket as he bit into it, moaning softly.

Baldur felt so empty all of a sudden, and not in the typical empty feeling in his chest. No, instead he became painfully aware there wasn’t a cock inside him right now, filling him up completely. His body ached for something in him— a cock, another wolf’s fingers, anything to make him feel nice and full.

“Ahnngh…” He bit his lip, changing the angle of his arm and hand to instead move behind him, pumping his fingers in and out of himself. It wasn’t enough though, he wanted more. More more more~! Something big filling him up. Someone behind him, holding him down, pushing their body weight on him as he took it. Usually those sort of things scared him, but right now he was turned on so badly he thought he might die if he didn’t cum right now!

—

Suffice to say, it was two hours by the time Baldur was finished after multiple orgasms, and it took another hour for him to calm down enough to get dressed and get a tub of water to bathe.

He really didn’t want to go to the meeting now in the underforge. How was Baldur supposed to look Vilkas in the eye? The shorter man had been jacking off to the thought of him for an obscene amount of time. But it would be equally as humiliating to make up an excuse why he couldn’t come. Not like he could feign illness when his packmates all knew that was impossible.

It was late at night when he went out into the underforge, sighing. The others were there already, and all eyes met him the second he entered through the secret door.

It felt like they were looking at prey. He swallowed roughly as a buzzing feeling ran through him.

“There you are, Harbinger.” Vilkas smiled the same way he did in the hall. “Come.” Vilkas walked to lead him over to the stone table the other two were around, sliding his hand down Baldur’s back.

Baldur shuddered as his body felt hot again, covering his mouth. Focus—not right fucking now body! He couldn’t act weird here, Divines know he didn’t want the other companions thinking he was an uncontrollable pervert.

“What are we here to discuss?” Instead he tried to sound stoic, if not a little formal. He didn’t want them to know anything was up with him, and if they questioned his blush, he’d just say his wolf blood was acting up and making him feel ill—that he probably just needed a few good hunts and he’d be all better.

Looking at the table though, there was nothing on it. No papers, no maps. Weird. Why focus on the table if nothing was on it?

“Well,” Vilkas began, before Aela gave him a light shove as he turned his back to it, stumbling back until he was practically sitting on the stone.

“You.” Aela finished, a playful grin on her face.

“What?” Baldur’s eyebrows furrowed, but since he was cornered he couldn’t easily get off the table. “What about me?”

“How clueless do you think we are?” Vilkas stepped closer first. He was always better with words, which made the whole thing seem… Planned. His hand slid to Baldur’s knee, running slow circles on the inner portion, slowly creeping its way up his thigh. Baldur wasn’t sure if he wanted to open his legs more or slam them shut from the pure heat coursing through him. “We’ve been able to smell you the past couple of days.”

“Smell?” He gave him a strange look, before Aela climbed up on the table on her knees, running her hand along his lower stomach. Baldur nearly keened from the feeling, his legs trembling.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Aela asked as she slowly slid his shirt up. “It’s clear you’re in heat.”

Baldur’s eyes which had been twisted shut quickly snapped open.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He wanted to sound more offended, but with all the hands touching him he was feeling so hot he was almost dizzy.

“Heat. You know.” Aela laughed. “Don’t play dumb on that, you know how animals do it.”

“Why the fuck would I be in heat?” He hissed, clarifying his question. When his wool tunic was pulled all the way up to his neck and the archer’s calloused fingers rolled around his nipples though, he couldn’t help but moan and twitch his leg. “Mm~!”

“It’s your wolf blood.” By now she had moved almost completely behind him, speaking low in his ear. Her breasts pressed against his bare back, her leather armor not leaving much to the imagination. “It usually only affects those of high rank in their pacts—they’ll go into heat or a rut, trying to mate with other members.” Baldur covered his mouth as what she was saying checked out. “We can smell it all over you, how aroused you are.” She gave a pinch to one of his nipples and he cried out, head falling back onto her shoulder.

“Practically begging for someone to come fuck you.” Vilkas’ hand was at his crotch now, rubbing slowly through the fabric that Baldur was already soaking. “Look at you… If we waited too long you’d probably go mad.”

“Fuck…” Baldur mumbled as his hips began to squirm. This was getting too much for him—tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes as he felt like he was going to catch on fire from pure desire.

Farkas stepped closer, resting a large hand on his other thigh. “Don’t worry,” He said, voice gruff and eyes glowing in the dark like the others’. “We’ll take good care of you.”

Somehow that statement made Baldur feel even hotter.

Vilkas began wrestling his pants off next before his shirt was completely removed by Aela, Baldur only able to protest with small, weak gasps. This was moving too fast for his logical, nord side and way too fucking slow for his wolf side. Both were at odds as Baldur wanted to cover himself up and run off in confusion and panic, but his wolf half just wanted to spread his legs and beg to get fucked. Instead he did neither, mostly just allowing himself to be manhandled as he was stunned, unable to come to a decision.

He was laid out on the large table, legs dangling off. Surrounded like this, he felt kind of like a human sacrifice. But still, the scent of his packmates and the ever present drumming of their hearts only excited him. In fact he could make out faint scents mixed in with their normal ones—very musky, heavy scents that made his breathing accelerate.

“Look at how wet you are.” Vilkas admired from between his thighs, holding them open. “You’re dripping all over the table.” Baldur covered his eyes with an arm, groaning.

“Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh? Even if it’s true?” He slid two fingers up and down his folds, listening to the breathy gasps and whines Baldur gave in return. “It’s obvious how much you want to be bred.”

Baldur’s whole body jolted at the statement, his wolf blood singing in delight. But Baldur however was mortified by the statement.

“I-I do not!” He wasn’t a woman, so how the fuck was he getting bred?! Was it like this just because he didn’t have a dick?! Still, Vilkas only continued to smirk down at him, spreading him open to continue admiring him.

“That’s not what your body is saying…” Vilkas slid a finger inside him to start, nice and slow. Baldur moaned deeply at the action—he didn’t think someone else would go this gently or that it could feel so good. Was it the wolf blood in him, or just the fact Vilkas wasn’t being an asshole and trying to rush it? “Do you think it’s easy for us? Watching you walk around like that?” Baldur had no response, only an incoherent moan. “All of Jorrvaskr smells like you now. If we waited too long I’m sure stray wolves would sneak into the city to come fuck you.”

“That’s—“ Baldur writhed on the table as another finger went in. The mental image of other werewolves sneaking into the city, clamoring around him, commenting on his scent was… Weirdly arousing, even though his wolf blood knew he’d only accept actual touching like this from his packmates.

“I’m sure every werewolf for miles can smell you, like a bitch in heat.” Baldur moaned deeply at that tightening around the fingers.

“I-I’m not a—“ He whined, “I’m not a bitch in heat~!” Still, the comment only made him feel hotter, even if he tried to deny it.

Vilkas actually growled low in his throat, a sound that somehow turned Baldur on more.

“How are you going to say that when you’re like this?” Vilkas asked, fingers moving faster. “Getting so hot and bothered over a little touching earlier—“ Baldur shivered as he realized what Vilkas was referencing, “Running off to touch yourself, driving all of us crazy with your scent that screams ‘come fuck me’!”

Baldur had no defense to that. He really did get that aroused from a few brushes of Vilkas’ hand. If it was any more than that he wouldn’t have been surprised if he started leaking in the fucking hall, or dragged Vilkas away to fuck him immediately.

“Relax Vilkas, he’s clearly all new to this.” Aela chided him, swatting his hand away. As soon as Aela’s hand replaced the other werewolf’s, she rubbed slow circles around his clit until his leg was trembling. “It’s his first heat, he probably has no idea how strong he smells or how desperate he looks.” Baldur bit his lip as she slowly increased speed, now rubbing back and forth as she found a pattern he liked. “He just wants to be a good little pup for us, doesn’t he?”

Hearing that made his breath quicken even more, pupils dilating and eyes glowing brightly. Seeing his reaction, she smiled down at him, maneuvering so he was once again slumped against her, giving her easier access to his ear. “Isn’t that right, Baldur?” She moved faster, before giving his ear a lick, resulting in him crying out in pleasure. “You just wanna be a good little pup for your pact, right?”

“Yessss~!” He hissed, thighs opened wide.

“You wanna get bred, don’t you?” She asked, once again resulting in his wolf blood singing with delight, drumming through him as fast as it did when he was hunting.

“Yes, yes~!” Baldur moaned deeply as he could feel an orgasm approaching. “I do, I—“ His tongue was loose now with pleasure, letting his wolf blood gain control of it as he panted, moaned, and howled with delight. “Please, breed me, breed me, fuck—!!” Saying that made him cum. Hard. So hard he saw stars in his vision as his back arched with a loud cry of pure lust, before he slumped back down onto Aela’s chest, panting heavily.

When he opened his eyes back up, he saw Vilkas and Farkas staring at him with glowing eyes, already mostly undressed.

“My turn.” Farkas said gruffly as he finished first. Baldur shuddered, wondering what was coming next. Was it going to be Farkas fucking him? Somehow he didn’t feel ready for that, not yet—despite how wet he was Farkas was the bigger and stronger twin and because of that risked hurting him the most.

But instead, the larger werewolf kneeled down between his thighs, looked at him for a few moments, and then went down to his cunt.

Licking him.

Baldur yelped in surprise, nearly clamping his legs shut if not for the larger werewolf holding them open. No one had ever fucking gone down on him!! He was aware you could do that to a dick, given he had been forced to a few times, but he didn’t think you could on him!

Next he moaned loudly as Farkas’ tongue began swiping firmly against his clit, back and forth, the hot, wet heat adding to the feeling.

“Oh fuck~!”

“Is this your first time being eaten out?” Aela asked, now trailing her hands both on his stomach and chest. Baldur nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Don’t worry, Farkas is very good at it.” She pinched a nipple, making him whine again. “He’ll take good care of you, little pup.”

“Mmm~!”

“You like that nickname a lot, don’t you?” Aela whispered low in his ear, nibbling on it. “Even as Harbinger of the Companions you like being our little pup, don’t you?”

“S-stop it~” He whined, embarrassed.

“You do like it, don’t you?” She continued teasing. “You just want to be a good little pup and get held down and bred, right?” Her other hand was trailing along his lower stomach as she said that, making his desire burn all the more hot.

“Ah~!” The pleasure was making him delirious. The mental image of being held down and bred was making it hard to think about anything else. Would they take turns with him? Fuck him until he couldn’t move? Fill him up with their seed? His body trembled at every thought, the pleasure climbing.

His second orgasm came crashing over him again, his thighs trembling. How many times was he going to cum today? He normally barely got one or two, but he already had several masturbating and he knew the other wolves were just warming up.

“So,” Aela looked at the twins. “Did you decide which one of you will be fucking him first? Or did you not come to a decision?”

Farkas had pulled up, frowning, while Vilkas had long since finished undressing.

“I’m going first.” Vilkas said. “Farkas might get a bit too excited, and like you said, it is his first heat.” Vilkas took his place between Baldur’s thighs, stroking a leg.

Part of Baldur was nervous. He’d never been penetrated before without it hurting—hell, most of the time he was left bleeding or raw from the lack of care and warming up. Sure he was slick as hell, dripping all over the table as Vilkas said, but what if it still fucking hurt?

His wolf half though? Well…

To start, Vilkas pushed his thighs up slowly, whistling as he saw just how flexible the Harbinger was. Then, after finding a comfortable position, he laid his cock out against him, almost burning hot against his cunt and stomach.

It was then, seeing it pressed against him and imagining it inside him, all the hunger from earlier of wanting something buried in him came washing over him in tsunami-like waves, and his worries promptly turned off completely. The musky scent from Vilkas was only turning him on even more, his wolf brain completely in control.

“Such a good pup.” Vilkas praised with a smirk, moving to line up. “Is this the cock you were fantasizing about earlier?”

“A-ah…” Baldur whined softly, feeling the head pressed against him. Just a little more, he wanted it in him already. “Please~”

#baldur #baldur dragonborn #nsft #transmasc nsft #my writing

5 notes · View notes

sims2bellaswan · 3 years

Text

Fascinating [Childe | Tartaglia x Reader]

[TW: STALKING, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE] [SFW]

AO3 VERSION

After a monumental loss, Tartaglia becomes fascinated with you. [AFAB reader]

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger, Tartaglia. In a cold, stone chamber, echoing the gentle sound of water and scented with the smells of soft moss and rotting wood. Your shoes clicked on the cobble almost hesitantly.

“Oh, no! Please, don’t hesitate for my sake, you were doing so well.” The smile he wore was laced into his voice. “You killed the fatui agents, yes?”

All you could manage was a nod, then a thick swallow. Your nerves ran wild. You weren’t prepared to fight him. Trying to relax, you moved from your ready position to a casual stand, the grip on your weapon loosening ever so slightly. You’ve learnt on more than one occasion that frayed nerves lead to a loss.

“Good, good! Then, you’ll be quite the challenge.” Beyond the cheery voice was something different. Something malicious that knew you’d fail.

He knew he’d prove victorious. If the mighty beasts and monsters of the underground couldn’t kill him, what made you think you could? You were weak, it was humorous to even attempt.

No, he wanted to prove to you, specifically, that he was the superior warrior. This game of cat and mouse the two of you had been playing grew boring at this point. He let you catch him here. He wanted to see if you had it in you. To see if you had the guts to give your all.

The battle ended unceremoniously. Routinely boring. You had given it your all, clearly that wasn’t enough. It certainly wasn’t enough for him.

Enough time had passed where you had eventually gotten over your complete defeat. Your bruises faded from a deep purple to yellow, the gashes in your muscles healed well, which you thanked medicinal herbs for. You had new scars, blooming red holes from the arrows that pierced the little armor you had then. But, you knew they would fade with time too. Thankfully, you remained emotionally unaffected from the battle. Sure, it sucked to lose but you knew that if you kept up your hard work, it wouldn’t happen again.

The same could not be said for Tartaglia or rather, Childe, as he was known outside of ‘business’ related circles. He won; normally, he’d move on and find bigger baddies to bully.

Normally, he wouldn’t feel a need to keep an eye on you.

In the first week following your battle, it began as scientific curiosity. He was far more interested in who you trained with than what you did in your free time. Until, he reasoned with himself, it became necessary to look out for you in your free time.

Weeks grew into months of simply studying. Learning your go-to moves by watching you train, knowing how you’d respond by eavesdropping on your conversations. Your group was nothing to bat an eye at, not nearly as interesting as you proved to be.

Waiting for the perfect moment to approach you was probably one of the most stressful moments of his life. You were always with someone, whether it be that levitating, little woman or one of your teammates. They all seemed fiercely protective of you and despite his need to lord himself over you again, he didn’t need their heat as well.

The sun filtered down through the clouds, offering little warmth in the cooling day. You weren’t training or off doing quests for the Knights. Nor, were you with your damned team or that little lady. Now was perfect. Leaving his hiding spot, where he had quietly noted every movement of yours, he dashed to catch up to you.

“You know, wolves run around all over this area.” His arm snaked over your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You froze for a moment before breaking away from his grip and readying your weapon. There was a silent moment of growing tension between the two of you.

He laughed, not even bothering to match your energy. “I only came to offer a rematch!” He held up his hands in defense. “I beat you so mercilessly, I felt bad afterwards.”

You relaxed, standing back up and sheathing your sword. “What are the terms?” You were nothing if not careful, he liked that about you.

“You’re on your way to Snezhnaya, yes?” He began walking, which you had to scramble to keep up with. “I’ll meet you there, we rematch then.” Turning on his heel, he walked backwards to get a good look at your reaction. “My turf, my rules.”

Your face fell, annoyed that you’d have to follow along with whatever dirty tricks Tartaglia had planned for you. “Fine.” You gripped the strap of your bag as you walked. “But, I reserve the right to decline if I don’t like your rules.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport.” He grinned, waving to you. “See you there!” And, off he went.

The journey to Snezhnaya was cold, which was the only word you could come up with to match how you felt. Snow fluttered down and stuck in piles around the path. Little wildflowers, shining with a blue sheen in the winter sun, frame the signposts and fences. Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off.

Meeting with Tartaglia wasn’t as cold, in fact, the inn was pleasantly warm. The two of you held a comfortable silence for a moment before beginning your discussion, quietly drinking your tea while he took a quick shot of some clear wine. He said it would warm you up but you declined.

The terms of your rematch were as follows, this is what you agreed to: The two of you would rematch exactly as you did the first time, weapons and all. No teammates, no tag-ins, which was good because your team didn’t accompany you to Snezhnaya. No dirty moves, but hand to hand was permitted. Unlike your first fight, it wasn’t life or death.

“What happens when one of us loses?” You stir honey into your tea.

He grinned, he had been waiting for you to ask after all. “If you win, I will beg you to be gracious enough to train me.”

“And if I lose?”

“If you lose, I want to train you.” Which essentially means, he will get to be by your side either way. And, he knows he won’t lose. While the fight itself is fair in every sense of the word, Tartaglia has done his homework. He’s studied you since you lost the first time, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Train me in your dirty fighting style? I think not.” You sneered slightly, not worried about how rude you came off.

“Dirty?” He acted mock-offended. “I won fair and square.” He found himself enthralled in your bitterness.

Beyond the agreement, you two continued in light banter. He found it delightful to get to actually speak with you. Watching you pour yourself glass after glass to give yourself a reason to ignore his prying questions. You powered through until you retired for the night, the real battle would be the next morning.

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger. Tartaglia’s cockiness became almost tangible as he strut about the arena, awaiting your ready.

The cold cobblestone would shiver beneath you if it could. You did shiver, painful tears pricking at your eyes when the wind picked up. Your knuckles whitened as your grip on your sword tightened. Knees bent, you readied.

You were able to dodge the first few arrows, much to Tartaglia’s discontent. “You’ve gotten better, girlie!” You lunge forward and he uses it as a chance to pull you in.

Inches from your nose, his breath warms your cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something but you pull away before he can put it together.

Running a hand through his hair, he readies another arrow. Pulling, letting go, hitting you in the arm. It lodged itself in your muscle, right in the gap between your armors. You pull in a tight breath, then continue with your stance.

Swallowing the pain is the hardest part. His arrows feel barbed when they rip through your skin and plant themselves in your flesh. You break the arrow at the base, if you pulled it out, you’d bleed out sooner.

Tartaglia sees this as another window of opportunity. “Nevermind, I think you’ve gotten worse.” He taunts you. He doesn’t actually think this. If he hadn’t done his homework so well, you would’ve taken him by surprise. That’s something that doesn’t happen often. “Though, I’ve seen you train.” He has the upper hand here.

“Do you hold yourself back when we fight?” You break his train of thought. “Because you’re doing an awful lot of chatting.” He didn’t chat nearly this much the first time you two met. You grimaced. Your arm hurt.

“Not anymore.” He smiled, dashing towards you. His elbow rips through the air and hits square on your shoulder, opposite the arrow wound. Breath escapes you. “You know, I wondered if you were holding back.” His foot keeps you to the ground, you think you might puke. “But, when I saw you train, you were sloppy.”

“Saw me train?” You gasped out, chest heaving. The cold air felt too thin to breath.

“Among other things.”

“I win.” His foot removed, he held out his hand. Waiting, patiently, for you to take it, hoist yourself up. You never took it. He wasn’t offended.

In fact, it invigorated him. He takes a knee over you. “I can’t quite figure out why I do the things I do.” He grabs your jaw. “You cast some spell on me. All I can think about is you.”

#childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #sfw #Female reader #tw violence #tw stalking #My writing

55 notes · View notes