Chapter Text
“Would you bleed for me?” Childe asks one night, under the soft glow of a dim bedside lamp, and you nod without hesitation. You’d do anything for him - he knows it - you’re nothing more than a puppy, following him around and obeying his every word. Waiting for him to smile down at you, pet the side of your face and tell you that you’re so good for him.
Only for me? he’d ask while gripping your face with one hand - you’d nod vigorously, eager to be his.
The cool press of a blade against your skin makes you shiver involuntarily. You hadn’t even noticed him reach over to grab if off the dark wooden table, too enveloped in him and the way he speaks to you.
He’s so captivating - would you even notice if you died in his arms or would you be too caught up with the way the light shines softly on the side of his face?
It rests on the fat of your thigh now, digging in just enough to feel the pressure. It wasn’t very sharp and wouldn’t be as easy to cut you on accident with it. He wanted to be deliberate with what he did to your body - you were his canvas, after all.
“What about right here? You’d look so pretty with my name carved into you.” He pushes the knife harder, so that if he swiped it would slice into you and give way to a steady trickle of blood.
He laughs at you, tensed with anticipation for his next move, the next push against your skin that would cut through. “Are you nervous?”
“I am.” He makes your heart beat like a wild bird trapped in a cage. You close your eyes and take a breath, waiting - you wonder if he’ll carve his real name. He doesn’t like to use his real name, but for you? He’d do it for you.
There’s not a doubt in your mind that he would, red dripping down your leg while slicing four angular letters into your flesh - as if he were signing his name on a piece of artwork. A claim.
How his eyes would be laser focused on your leg, only pausing to wipe your tears and tell you how beautifully you bleed for him.
To both your relief and disappointment, that moment of piercing pain never came. The pressure against your leg was gone, and the idea with it.
Instead, a warm hand, always bruised knuckles brushing across your cheek.
“Next time, hm?”
The knife is still grasped in his hand, but the other is pushing your thighs apart and suddenly you forget all about the little blade - until he decides to push it back up against your skin, all while slowly rolling his hips into yours.
“Be careful not to squirm too much.” The metallic material feather light, dragging up your body to rest against your neck, right under your jaw. He fucks you now, arm as still as can be and eyes that flick from your throat to in between your legs where you take him in.
Be careful. A warning spoken so gently, words a stark contrast to the the way he looks at you, holding a weapon right to your throat. You find that your heart is becoming a wild bird once again, so you close your eyes tight.
It’s hard to stay still with the feeling of him and the pressure building in your gut, though, your hands finding grip on the sheets below and your hole hugging him tight.
“That’s good.” He murmurs, “so good for me.”
For him. The creature in your chest flaps its wings furiously.
He chuckles breathlessly, as though the beating in your chest sounded loudly enough for him to hear. It probably did.
“You like being mine.” It wasn’t a question, simply an observation, but you nod in agreement anyway. The fact that he knew how very much you liked him - liked this - should make your face burn with embarrassment, but you find yourself glowing with joy instead. How could you be embarrassed when you belonged to him, and he knows it?
“Then,” he starts, the blade inching its way down until it sits over your heart, where it rattles against your ribs inside. “Will you bleed for me?”