*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ It's Like That *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

i fall in love like kenji kishimoto

Talkative big bro who constantly teases sis for how filthy she is especially while fucking. Oldest bro walks in and they try to explain she wants this bc they think he’ll stop them but instead he tells them to keep going and he’s even nastier than the other brother and sis should be fucking losing it hearing her composed big bro talk about breeding her

Her breath hitched as his hands tightened around her hips, pulling her back against him with a force that made her knees buckle. “God, you’re so filthy,” he muttered into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “Always begging for it, aren’t you?” She could feel the smirk in his voice, the smugness that always seemed to accompany his teasing.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the moan that threatened to escape as he thrust into her again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. “Shut up,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to sound defiant. But even as she said it, she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, unable to resist the way he made her feel.

He chuckled, low and deep, his breath hot against her neck. “You love it,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You love being called out for how dirty you are. Admit it.” His hands moved up to her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples just hard enough to make her gasp.

“I don’t—” she started, but her words were cut off as he thrust into her again, harder this time, making her cry out. “Oh, fuck,” she moaned, her hands gripping the edge of the bed for support.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let it out. Let everyone hear how much of a slut you are.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re mine, and you always will be.”

She shivered at his words, her body responding to the possessive tone in his voice. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. Not when he was fucking her like this, not when he was making her feel so good.

The door creaked open, and she froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Oh god, no. She turned her head, her eyes widening in horror as she saw their oldest brother standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched them with a raised eyebrow.

“What the hell…” he muttered, his voice calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

She felt her face flush with embarrassment, and she tried to pull away, but her brother’s hands tightened around her, holding her in place. “Don’t stop,” he said, his voice steady despite the situation. “Keep going.”

She blinked, her mind struggling to process what was happening. “What? No, we—”

“I said keep going,” their oldest brother interrupted, his voice firmer now. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “I want to watch.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, her body betraying her as a small moan escaped her lips. This can’t be happening.

Her brother behind her chuckled, his hands moving up to her hips as he resumed his thrusts, slow and deliberate now. “You heard him,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “He wants to watch his little sister get fucked.”

She could feel her face burning with embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny the way her body was responding to the situation. Her breathing quickened, her hips moving on their own as she pressed back against him, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving her.

Their oldest brother stepped closer, his eyes never leaving them as he watched with an intensity that made her shudder. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I had no idea you were this much of a dirty little slut.”

She whimpered, her body trembling as she felt his eyes on her, his words sending a jolt of arousal through her. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you are,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through her protest. “Look at you, taking it like a good little whore.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek before moving down to her lips. “You’re even prettier when you’re getting fucked.”

She felt her brother’s thrusts quicken, his breathing growing heavier as he listened to their oldest brother’s words. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice husky with arousal. “You like hearing him talk about you like that.”

She couldn’t answer, her mind too fogged with pleasure to form a coherent thought. All she could do was moan, her body trembling as she felt herself getting closer to the edge.

Their oldest brother stepped closer, his hands moving to her hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “You look so good like this,” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “But I think you’d look even better with my cock in you.”

Her eyes widened at his words, her body shuddering with a mix of shock and arousal. “What?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, his hands moving down to her ass as he gave it a firm squeeze. “You heard me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I want to see how much of a slut you really are.”

She felt her brother’s thrusts slow as he processed their oldest brother’s words, his hands tightening around her hips. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Dead serious,” their oldest brother replied, his voice steady and filled with a dark intensity. “I want to see her take both of us.”

She felt her body tremble at his words, her mind struggling to process what was happening. This can’t be real. But as she felt their oldest brother’s hands on her, his lips brushing against her neck, she knew it was.

“You want that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver of arousal through her. “You want to be filled up, to be completely and utterly claimed.”

She couldn’t answer, her body betraying her as she pressed back against him, her hips moving on their own as she sought more of the pleasure they were giving her.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his fingers moving down to her clit, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes. “Let us take care of you.”

She moaned, her body trembling as she felt herself getting closer to the edge. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. “Please, I need—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “We’ve got you.”

She felt her brother’s thrusts quicken, his breathing growing heavier as he listened to their oldest brother’s words. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that made her shiver. “Mine to fuck, mine to claim.”

Their oldest brother chuckled, his hand moving up to her breast as he pinched her nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. “And mine to breed,” he added, his voice dark and filled with a possessive hunger that sent a jolt of arousal through her.

She felt her body clench around her brother’s cock at his words, her mind too fogged with pleasure to process what was happening. All she could do was moan, her body trembling as she felt herself getting closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” their oldest brother murmured, his fingers moving faster against her clit. “Come for us, little slut. Let us see how much of a whore you really are.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer, her body shattering as she came with a cry, her brother’s cock buried deep inside her. She felt their oldest brother’s lips on her neck, his fingers still working her clit as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction that made her shiver. “You’re going to be taking care of us from now on.”

She felt her body tremble at his words, her mind struggling to process what was happening. But as she felt their hands on her, their bodies pressing against her, she knew she couldn’t deny it.

She was theirs. And there was no going back.

I need free use family again.

I need to wake up with my brothers cock fucking into me, saying good morning as he gives me my first load.

I need to walk into the kitchen and have my mommy bring me into a kiss while dad comes up behind me and sinks into me.

I need big sis to spread my legs as we sit on the couch together and lick the loads out of my pussy.

I need the family get together to be an excuse for family to come over and fuck me.

I need to ride my younger brothers’ cocks at the same time so they don’t argue about who gets to use the whore first.

I need to get pregnant with the next slut of the family.

🤤🤤

Frederick Ferdinand Schafer (German, 1839–1927) - In the White Mountains

hi!! 💗

i was wondering if you could do a yuji drabble wherein he walks into our dorm and we're just BAWLING and he goes to comfort us thinking it's serious and is like "it's okay.. you're bf is here.." bc he SUCKS as comforting people (LMFAOO) and then after a while when we calm down we tell him (still crying..?) that one of our favorite MALE (heskeske) characters died in an anime and he just gets all dramatic and jealous and then gets gojo-sensei in on the situation 🤭🤭 like a whole AITA 💀

this request is a bit short and not so explanatory, but idc how you write it since it's yuji and i'll read ANYTHING abt yuji. 💋

ASK AND YOU. SHALL. RECIVEEEEE. (Recive it unedited.)

Here we go.

Yuji who sucks at comforting you only to getting jealous over 'guy'

Yuji knocks on your door, he wanted to drop off some of the books he borrowed from you only to get no response. It was weird because he knew you were in your dorm...

"NOOOOOO" You yelled making Yuji panic

"Y/N ARE YOU OKAY?" He said as he burst open your door only to see you balled up on your bed crying into your pillow while muttering random sentences hysterically.

"He was-HIC- so-HIC-"

"Calm down Y/N are you okay?!" Yuji asked scanning your body for any inguries

"NOO IM NOT" you shouted throwing the pillow in your arms at the T.V infront of you before going back to crying.

"Shhhh calm down what if Nobora hears you?" he said with an awkward look on his face.

You stopped everything and stared at him.

"You monster-" you said before the tears rolled down your cheeks again.

"Do you not care?" you said through tears with your lip quivering.

"Okay, okay, i'm sorry but I can't help you if I don't know wats wrong." he said rubbing circles in your back in an attempt to soothe you.

It was no use because you really started to cry now.

"What's going on? I heard someone crying" Gojo asked sticking his head in the door way of your dorm.

"First he-he, and now Yuji, MY OWN BOYFRIEND DOSEN'T CARE ABOUT ME"

"I DO!" he retaliates

Gojo scans the room laying his eyes on your T.V seeing the end credits of Demon slayer playing. His face went white.

"No- Don't tell me-"

You nodded your head up and down aggressively while sniffing into a tissue

"RENGOKU-SAN" Gojo yelled grabbing the T.V by the screen watching the credits go by.

Yuji finally realized what this was all about.

"Are you kidding me?" He turned to you stiffly.

"Y/N...He's not real, your crying over someone who's not real-"

You and Gojo both froze

"Yuji, clearly you don't understand the gravity of the situation" Gojo starts.

"You see when someone with a pure heart and soul dies, no matter if they are real OR NOT, its a hard loss. Its like if they killed the earth worm man in the first Human worm movie."

Yuji turns his attention back to you

"You didn't even cry this much when I 'died'" Yuji mumbled

"THATS COMPLETLY DIFFERENT!" You said offended that he would even consider bring that up right now.

"YOUR RIGHT, HES NOT REAL AND YOUR CRYING OVER HIS DEATH WHILE I 'DIED' AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN CRY THIS MUCH."

Mean while Gojo laid on your floor muttering the lyrics to the end credit song while crying.

THANKS FOR READING ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: some of this totally isn't based off a personal experience. Anyways I hope this is close to what you wanted anon. And thanks for your request. reblogs are welcomed btw.

5ᴘᴍ; ᴛᴇᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

𝔰𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔞𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔦

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

me n whooooooooooo