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4jax4jax · 1 year

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Down the Hatch

Dom Ajax Petropolus x Sub reader

Summary: Ajax prefers to take the reins when you go down on him.

Warnings: M x F, blowjob, deepthroating, gagging, hair pulling.

Word Count: 1.3K

To say this was unexpected would be a complete lie, you knew exactly what you were doing when you wrapped your arms around Ajax’s neck and looked up at him with sultry eyes, just the way you knew he loved.

He smiled and kissed your lips gently, pulling back for only a moment to speak against your soft lips. "I'm glad you came."

You kissed him back, more passionate than how he had kissed you and his hands started to roam all over your body. You moaned softly into his mouth as you felt his large hands drag across your waist.

You deepen the kiss, licking the inside of his mouth. His hand moved down to your ass and squeezed it firmly. A whimper couldn't help itself from sneaking from between your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his own. He gripped the tops of your thighs and signaled for you to jump up so he could carry you.

He brought the two of you over to his bed and sat down so you were in his lap. You pulled away from the kiss and looked up at him. "Let me suck you off."

He nodded happily at your statement and the two of you moved around until you were finally situated. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, and you were kneeled in front of him. You looked up at him with wide eyes of adoration as he made quick work of pulling down his pants and briefs.

Your eyes widened even further when he fully pushed off his clothes, his heavy and hard cock bobbing in front of you. The dim light in the room reflected off of the shiny runner of precum that dripped from his tip. He chuckled lightly at your reaction and reached a hand out to run through your hair. "Staring problem, hm?"

You nodded eagerly, not even caring if he was teasing you. You let him continue stroking your hair as you leaned forward and took him between your lips.

He threw his head back in a groan at the feeling of your warm tight throat constricting around him. "You're so perfect..”

He murmured out, lightly beginning to grip your hair at the root. You moaned around his cock and splayed your hands on his thighs to ground yourself.

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, loving how much he was enjoying himself. You started to move your head up and down his dick, the ache in your jaw becoming unbearable, but it made it all the more enjoyable.

Ajax moaned softly as he felt my dick hit the back of your throat. Your tongue swirled around the underside of his shaft as you gagged slightly.

He gripped your hair harder as he began to gently pull on it, taking the initiative to start moving your head, taking control from you. You whimpered and gagged around him at the feeling of your hair being pulled on.

You moan around his dick, letting him use you however he wants. You love that he's using you like this, that he has complete control over you right now.

Becoming pliant under his gaze you let him control all of your movements. You felt his thighs flex whenever you'd try to deepthroat him, and a shudder would run up his body everytime you gagged.

You were desperate for his praise, just to be told you were doing a good job.

His grip on your hair becsme tighter as he started fucking your face roughly, thrusting his hips forward with each movement of your head. You gag around his cock as he pushed deeper into your throat, but you don't mind one bit. It felt amazing, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted to you without worrying about disobeying him. You would never.

"You're such a good girl, letting me do whatever I want to you, letting me use you.”

He practically growled out, his aggression being fueled by the tears that spilt over your waterline and cascaded down your red cheeks.

You moaned around his dick as he pulled your hair harder, causing your head to bob faster along his length. He let go of your hair to get a better grip, and grabbed it even harder this time around, making you whimper simply at the feeling. He began to fuck your mouth with long, forceful strokes, making sure to coat his entire cock in your thick spit.

You tried to pull back but he pushed your head forcefully back into his lap, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't even try it, you wanna be good for me? Then don't fucking move." You whined at his dominant tone and went back to letting him use you the way he wanted, if you protested any further you knew it would only do more harm than good.

He continued to force you down onto his cock, his pace quickening as your throat loosened with every rough stroke. His balls slap against your chin with each thrust, his pelvis hitting your nose with each impact. You attempted to gasp for air between each plunge, but still managed to keep your lips wrapped tightly around his member.

When he finally lets you pull off you look absolutely ruined. A deep breath is the first thing you take, feeling as if all of the air in your system had been stolen. Your hair is messy, front strands sticking to your face. Your lips are swollen and covered in your spit and his arousal. You looked positively wrecked and beautiful.

He smiled and laughed softly as you came up for air, his eyes adoringly looking down at you as he saw how ruined you looked. He leaned back slightly and watched as you absentmindedly leaned forward to lick his slick shaft, as if you were in a trance.

He stood up from the bed and gently grabbed you by your hair, but this time to move you back a bit. His other hand wrapped around his red and heavy member, beginning to stroke himself fast.

“Open up, baby. Wanna finish like this.” He sounded breathless and irresistible, wanting this just as much as you did.

You stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

The rough skin of his hands paired with the angelic image of you on your knees begging for his release quickly brought him to an intense orgasm.

“Fuck- I’m close, beautiful.”

A few more fast strokes and he was bursting all over your face. His orgasm crashed through his body like a tsunami, and he threw his head back and his mouth dropped open in an ear shattering groan.

“So good for me, so fucking good for me.” Your skin ran hot from his praise as ropes of cum landed on your cheeks, chin, and tongue. It dripped down your skin and you graciously swallowed what he allowed you to have.

“Thank you, sir.” Ajax chuckled breathlessly and looked down at you with a smile that could only be described as fucked out. He reached down and brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

He placed his fingers underneath your chin and moved your face around, inspecting his work. You were met with a cocky smirk on his face when you looked back up at him.

“Proud of yourself?”

You spoke, an obvious teasing tone behind your voice. He swiped a drop from the side of your face and pushed the soaked thumb in your mouth, scoffing when you unquestioningly parted your lips and accepted the salty coated finger.

“Even when you’re trying to be brat and give me attitude, you know exactly how to obey me.”

He was right, and you knew it, there was no debating that.

#ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus smut #ajax x reader #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax wednesday #ajax petropolus x you #wednesday #dom ajax #dom ajax petropolus

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zhxngii · 7 months

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I need to talk about this bc of some art i saw. i know i might've mentioned this before (idk?) but omggg

⎯⎯ 𒁍 Having a man on his knees before you as you sit there before him in such a pretty little outfit paired with some nice heels. He sits there with pink-tinted cheeks, looking almost embarrassed as he realizes just how hard he's become while in this position, a whine coming from his throat once you give the leash a small tug, lifting his chin with the tip of your heel afterward for him to look at you.

Oh, the look in his eyes like he just wants to eat you up already, wants to follow every order you give him. Will gladly sit there through your teasing antics, might just get desperate and beg for you to give it to him already but he's enjoying it so much with how turned on he is right now.

The satisfied moan coming from his lips once you finally hover over him and sink your wet cunt onto his cock. The way he'll pant and tug at the restraints around his wrists behind his back, leaving him no choice but to just sit there and take your slow pace. How badly, terribly how he wants you to go faster, trying his utmost best to keep still and not thrust up into you because of how good you feel.

Kaeya, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Childe, Diluc, Zhongli, Itto, Jing Yuan, Welt Yang, Gepard, Blade, Sampo, Dan heng. + your f/os.

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angelsrcute · 2 days

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⌗ THEM FUCKING THEIR DARLING AT A MOVIE THEATER. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Alhaitham, Ayato, Tartaglia + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: Exhibitionism (Movie theatre), fingering(Tartaglia + Alhaitham), riding(Ayato), clit stimulation, raw + unprotected sex, almost getting caught, praising, dirty talk(Tartaglia). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — For the event! + I'm sorry this took so long!! but I hope you'll like it.（×_×；） req by @vieannee

⌗ ALHAITHAM would shove his fingers in your cunt, your face all red with embarrassment as you try to bite back moans. Well, he really isn't a fan of romance movies, it's just not his cup of tea but he'd do anything for his darling. While watching the movie, he didn't expect a sex scene but he suddenly got turned on by the noises. So now he's here, a hand on your mouth so that the others can't hear his sweet little lover. He's definitely enjoying this too! Two of his fingers stretching your cunt out while his other hand rubs slow circles on your puffy clit, I mean, if someone really paid any attention, they'd hear the sinful noises coming from the back. Guess they're really enjoying the movie, huh?

“C’mon now, you wouldn't want others to know what we're doing here, do you? I'll fuck you properly when we get back home, so be a good girl for now.”

⌗ AYATO would book a whole ass theatre for you, having you sit on his lap while he plays with your hair, the sex scene in the movie caught him off guard, he got a boner too! Well, no one is here anyway, you riding him wouldn't hurt anyone, the sound of skin slapping filling up the room along with your mewls. His hands guiding your body up and down, groaning at how good your cunt feels, praising you. The guard coming inside the theatre and asking if everything's alright made him stop his movements, hands covering your mouth as he acts normal. His voice so calm, like he wasn't just fucking you.

“Ah yes, do not mind us, everything's fine, my lover feels a bit under the weather, I'm taking care of her, you see.”

⌗ TARTAGLIA would just tease you throughout the movie, commenting on how cute you look while blushing during some romantic scenes. He didn't know this movie had a sex scene! Well now he's blushing as his eyes flicker to you. Gloved hands covering your mouth to cover your noises as he scissors your cunt open with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. Whispering dirty words to your ear.

“Hey is it me or the sounds are too loud, like it's happening in this room” “Dunno man, I don't hear anything, you're thinking too much.”

Poor dudes, they didn't know there was a live show going on behind them, only if they turned their heads!

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

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brayneworms · 1 year

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shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You’re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar.

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins.

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about.

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

#🫀.scribes #genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #ajax x reader #ajax smut #childe oneshot #sub!childe #sub!genshin #dom!reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader

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vynpng · 8 months

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♡ - whore

[sub childe x dom amab reader]

n | blood as lube (?) (it's mentioned like once) , rough sex, degradation, inflation kink, tummy bulge, whore childe (what's new 🥱), excessive (?) swearing, no condom used. mean reader 😈

read under cut !!

"m sorry! p-please, augh- I'm sorry!~"

Desperate sobs fell from Childe- who was currently under you, being pounded into at an inhumane pace, your cock so big he swore he could feel it in his stomach.

Despite all his pleading and begging, ultimately it fell upon deaf ears. Grabbing the ginger hair, you pulled harshly, as another sob escaped him.

"Shut up. You're not fucking sorry, you asked for this. Asked to be fucked from behind like a stupid whore."

Did he think you witnessing him flirting with fatui agents was going to go unpunished? It was probably his plan all along- to be utterly and entirely broken by you.

A delirious grin broke out across Childe's face- he loved when you fucked him with such fury, such jealously that there was no way he'd be able to walk for a week straight.

"Well? Don't ignore me now, tell me d-does it feel good, huh?"

A question you knew he was in no state to answer, not when his arms trembled as he attempted to keep himself upright, drawn out moans spewing from his lips.

Fuck.

It shouldn't even be humanely possible that you filled him up so well, that your cock was so big it caused a bulge in his stomach.

The primal urge to completely destroy him spurred you on, his begging sounding something akin to a prayer- a prayer you would never tire from hearing.

A garbled sound escaped from the man below you- something between a sob and a moan, as your palms pressed against his stomach as you ripped another orgasm out of him.

"Can you feel me?"

Drool dripped out of his mouth, adding to the mess that was already on the marbled floor- a mix of his blood and cum from the both of you.

Grabbing a handful of the ginger hair, bringing his ear to your mouth, you growled-

"I said, can you feel me, hm?"

As if to make your point, you pressed against the bulge even more harshly- eliciting a mewl from the ginger, as cum dripped out of his plump ass, red from the amount of times you had spanked it.

"So fuckin' nasty you are, making such a mess."

A broken laugh escaped Childe, quickly cut off as you thrusted into him again, a choked sob escaping him, tears staining his flushed face.

"Mmh, c-can feel you....feel, hah, you feel really good. F-fucking me like you hate me.."

The wet squelch of you fucking like animals in heat only seemed to turn Childe more even more, if his mantra of "m cumming! c-cumming!!" was anything to go by.

"Like? I do fucking hate you, stupid slut."

Sharply gasping, Childe's arms finally gave up on him as clear liquid sprayed out of his dick, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he collapsed to the floor, twitching as if electrocuted, as his senses were overcome with pleasure.

Staring down at the man your dick was lodged inside having possibly the biggest orgasm of his life due to you saying you hated him, there was only one thing you could say.

"Fuckin' manwhore."

#this lowk sucks mb #genshin smut #sub childe #childe x male reader #genshin x male reader #vyn.writes #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x male reader #ajax tartaglia #ajax smut #ajax x male reader #dom reader

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ladyel1x1r3l0p3r · 11 days

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This person has been everywhere in a post about am asmr person making a McDonalds lunch and the comments were about "free palestine" which I also contributed too and this person has been telling every1 off and cursing them off please report them or block them if possible<3(if you want more proof you can also go to the video and look through the comments. My user is "Lady.Cup1d" or El1x1r3l0p3r if anyone wants proof I made a comment)

The user of the person who posted the video is "the princesses daily life"

Not very furina fan like of them I will be honest

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fairybonesandstardust · 1 month

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you can’t knowingly fuck a criminal and then turn around and get mad at them for doing something unethical, dubiously moral or illegal that directly involves you. what about this man made you think he follows the laws, is ethical or even moral? you knew damn well that he killed people for a living. how are you going to date someone whose probably on the FBI’s most wanted list (top 10) and then turn around and be surprised that he invaded your privacy? make it make sense. you can be mad at him all you want but shawty the man has proven time and time again who he is as a person. if this mother fucker is out here willingly killing bitches and has probably broken the geneva convention on multiple occasions what makes you think you’ll be exempt 😭? don’t be shy share with the class?

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rvels · 2 months

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SO WET F'ME? ➜

❥char-> Ajax x femreader (reader has a coin slot..)

❥warnings -> 「 fingering, cum play?, cum eating, degrading??, sub reader, dom char, use of ' daddy' , 'baby' and 'good girl' 😭 lmk if I missed any 」

"Your'e so wet f'me baby" He watches as your cunt coats his long fingers with your slick, he starts moving his fingers in and out making you moan loudly "this pussy is mine ya' got that?" He bit his lip at how you tighten around his fingers "How about I make you cum again? Is that fine w' you?" You nod your head so fast as soon as he said that "My good girl" he grinned while stroking your hair using his unoccupied hand "I— I'm so close daddy!" You whined, he was shocked when he heard the little nickname you called him, something hit inside him cause he sped up his movements making you moan and tighten around his fingers once again "cum for me, cum for daddy" he whispered to your ear making you paint his fingers white "of fuck- my good girl, such a slut for me aren't you? Pussy' so wet f'me" he pulled his fingers out of your wet cunt and licked his fingers "A—ajax mmh! Don't eat it, t-thats disgusting" He raised a brow at you "what? You do it all the time" he smirked palming his cock "now give me something in return"

a/n ➜ Hiii thx for reading I was literally gone for so longgg so here's a little treat if you liked this consider liking or reblogging ;)

#ajax #ajax x reader #childe smut #tartaglia #dom tartaglia #sub reader #dom character #smut #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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mothmanperson · 2 years

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||No more Tea||

??? x gn!reader

tw: /

cw: degrading, crying, sub character, dom reader, kind non consensual kissing, this one is angsty, yandere-themes, (let me know if i missed smth), spicy no smut(i don't feel comfortable writing smut yet)

part three of this(part one) and this(part two)

FEMALE ALIGNED DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

that's it. he thought to himself.

he was getting more and more frustrated with you, every time he went up to you with built up confidence, asking you to do something with him you just denied him, told him off, ignored him, as if you weren't just fooling around with him a few day ago.

and these past few days felt like pure torture since he could only think about the mark you left (that were definitely visible to the other harbingers), the hot aching touches you left and the sharp gaze he still felt, as if ingrained into his mind.

you have been more and more on his mind, taking over his every thought, every decision. he needed you more than anything else he ever thought he needed. and you? you were ignoring him.

you seriously had the audacity to act like that as if you hadn't consumed each others blood and cum.

and honestly he felt offended, embarrassed, and angry most of all. how dare you play with him like that.

this is it. he thought to himself as he marched over to your chamber, he didn't even bother knocking on the door.

he burst through taking a deep breath and preparing to scream and yell at you, get you to apologize, oh how'd he love to see you down on your knees: begging.

it was quiet, your bedroom was empty.

huh? were are you? its way to late for you tobe doing any work- were you on a mission? why hadn't he been informed?

questions rang through his mind as he looked around in your room, taking a few hesitant steps forward. he was never really in your bedroom. only in your office, but the only thing that separated the office from your room was a heavy wooden door.

maybe you were still in your office, even if it was late, harbingers were busy people after all..

the menacing door opened with a bit of struggle, but even the fire place that usually was burning a hot, worm fire was cold, no light shining through the comfortable place you called your office.

(he'd never say it but he appreciates your eye for comfort and decor)

his grip on the doorknob tightened just a bit as he closed the door in a hurry, to many fresh (and certainly hot and not entirely unpleasant) memories resurfaced.

he took a breath walking over to a desk infront of a big window, he couldn't see much outside, it was dark and a storm was raging against the building, the only source of light was the moon and one or another fatui agent cursed to patrol at this time of the day in such a weather. he almost felt bad.

almost.

his eyes fell onto the desk. your desk.

candles, paper and pen, a few unfinished sketches.

thats new, he didn't know you could draw, then again you didn't know anything about each other.

you just knew how to push his buttons. he didn't even know how to do that, again, something that really frustrated him since he praised himself on knowing jow to read people, get under their skin and on their nerves.

but not with you, never with you. you either ignored him or lazily waved him off.

everything you did just offended him, he realized in a second.

"well look who came crawling back"

lost in thought he didn't noticed someone coming into the room.

what a pathetic mistake.

his back crawls and a shiver went down his spine when he felt you cold breath on his neck.

"what are you doing here?" you asked. it was a genuine question at first, but your mind quickly wandered and you had a rising suspicion why he visited you at this time.

he bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut. what was he doing here again?

you came closer, his small back pressed against your bigger chest, and his clenching ass against your hips.

your hand gripped the table right besides his small body, your head right besides his. he felt your cold breath against his ears now.

he shivered, clenching his hands into fists he tried to collect his thoughts.

right. he wanted to blow up into your face.

"what are you doing to me?" he asked with all his might.

"mh?" you raised an eyebrow in question.

"why are you- ignoring me? you do all- all this to me and then dare to pretend not to notice me these past few days? am i- am i just a- a toy for you? i don't want you to play with me you-" he snapped, and raised his voice, gritting his teeth.

"wait you thought we- we had something? hah- you thought we-? oh archons- you thought i fancied you? that i did all that because i liked you?" you laughed into his ear, your arms finally encasing them in a deathly possessive brace as you put your lips against the scorching hot skin of his neck.

"darling no, even though i have to admit that your to pretty when you're looking all fucked out like that, and i'd rather not anyone else see you like that. i don't feel anything for you. i like the idea of you, and your body but nothing else" you smiled against his neck, planting a soft kiss.

"then why are you-"

"because I don't want you to be with someone else, it should always only be me- don't you get it? you are such a price to me- and only for me- no- no one else will ever get to have you, understand? you probably don't, a shame" you grinned menacingly as he turned his head to look at you, in shock and disbelief at his foolishness to think that anyone could ever love him.

but... at least you liked his body? he thought as he looked at your dead eyes with tears threatening to fall.

"are you going to cry now? show me your adorable red face as you try and hit me? scream at me? what will your pathetic self do, mh?" you asked as you tilted his chin up with your gloved hand. your lips were millimeters away from his.

he couldn't answer, he didn't trust his voice to carry on this conversation while you were looking at him like that.

"oh so you'll stay quiet? well fine, you'll have nothing against me doing this then right?"

you leaned in, feverishly claiming his lips, he parted his as if he was trained for it. he let you do whatever you wanted. he was fine with whatever you'd do.

you may not love him, but you liked his body, and he loved your attention to much to turn down this opportunity.

the more he thought about it, the more he favoured the thought of being at least a toy for you.

you shoved your tongue into his mouth and he moaned in delight, past anger completely forgotten already.

you hands sneaked their way under his thin shirt and caressed his hot skin, drawing circles and other patterns up his skin until they reach his sensitive pectorals.

you squeezed and played with them as you pleased, and he became more and more of a mess, his breathing and heart beat picked up and he kept moaning and whimpering as you purposely avoided his perky nipples.

he had to stabilize himself gripping the edge of the table infront of him, his knuckles turning white.

you were afraid he'd break it.

he broke the kiss and you took a look at him. his lips were red and swollen, covered in saliva, just slightly opened. his eyes were half-lidded and blinded with pure lust.

"please-"

"so needy already? do you want me to spoil you? do you want your master to take care of you?" your asked in false caring.

he quickly nodded desperately chasing after your lips but you pulled away.

"oh no how unfortunate then, take care of it yourself you slut- you can do that for me right?" you stepped away from him.

you had to be kidding, was this some kind of cruel joke?

"w-what? you- you can't just leave me here?! like- like this?" he shrieked out

"and why is that?"

"you- you just can't- just be- because i-"

"you what, mh?"

"i need you so fucking bad" he whispered out, yet he sounded so fucking desperate and pathetic.

you loved it.

you wanted more.

you needed more, and you'll get more.

you will make sure of it.

"then get on your knees and beg for it you pathetic little slut"

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4jax4jax · 1 year

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Co-Star Chemistry

Dom Ajax Petropolus x Sub reader

Summary: You and Ajax are co-stars in a movie, but can’t seem to get your chemistry right.

Warnings: M x F, Hard Dom Ajax, choking, making out, doggy style, rough sex, crying, male orgasm, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, degrading language, hair pulling.

Word Count: 2.2K

“Cut.”

As the cameras stopped rolling and workers scrambled to wrap things up for the day, both you and Ajax let out a sigh of frustration. Despite your best efforts, your on-screen chemistry with him just wasn't cutting it.

You two had been working on this scene for the past few hours now, and just couldn’t seem to nail down the tension between your characters. The two of you had struggled to make your performances convincing, but the pressure was mounting as the director had been expressing her concerns more frequently.

“I don’t care how you two do it, but figure out a way to make it look like you don’t hate each other, please.”

You gave a polite nod with wide eyes and Ajax just shot her a pursed smile and nodded. As you angrily retreated to your trailer, you felt a hand grab your arm.

“What’s your problem?”

You turned around and saw none other than your lackluster co-star. You rolled your eyes and continued walking as his irritating voice rang through your ears.

“You heard her back there, we need to figure something out.”

Before you could close the door on him, Ajax reached out and pushed through instead. You slam the door behind him, making him jump.

“Listen, Ajax. You’re a great actor, I’m a great actress, but I just don’t think we’re compatible, alright? It’s just not working between us.”

You walked over to a counter and poured yourself a glass of water, avoiding his gaze at all costs. You couldn’t bring yourself to have any tension between him on screen, because the tension you two had off screen was more than enough.

“Then, we can make it work. You have a copy of the script in here, right?”

You set the glass down and crossed your arms over your chest, using your chin to point to a table behind him, where the script sat.

He quickly picked it up, flipping through the pages until he came to a stop, his eyes scanning over the page in a frenzy to find a scene to practice with you.

“Here. We can.. We can go over the scene we just can’t seem to get past.”

A sarcastic tone dripped from his words as he slid the script towards you. You rolled your eyes and closed the pages as you looked back at him with a distasteful look on your face.

"Fine. But can we just get through this quickly? I have things to do."

"Sure, but let's try to make this believable, okay?" He walked closer to you and flipped open the script again, almost making you scoff.

"I know how to act, Ajax. Don't tell me what to do."

He grumbled something under his breath before sighing and letting you speak. You took a deep breath and fixed your hair before getting into character, slightly raising your voice at him.

“Maybe if you fixed your attitude and weren’t such a bother to everyone around you, then I’d like to be around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ajax took a small step towards you, and somehow you couldn't help but gravitate towards him as well. With the cameras off and without an audience of 3 dozen, everything suddenly became easier.

“You’re insufferable to work with, you walk around like you own the place, and you think you’re some kind of genius when you’re no smarter than everyone here combined. That’s what that’s supposed to mean.”

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back before throwing his arms up in anger. He looked beautiful, but of course you couldn’t tell him that.

“Why do you always act like that? Like you always have something better to do than be around me, like you’d rather be anywhere else but here?”

“You know exactly why, Ajax. It’s because I’m in love with you.”

A thick silence hung over the two of your heads as you realized your mistake. His character's name wasn't Ajax. His mouth opened for a quick moment, as if to recite his next line, but it settled on closing. You watched his Adam's apple bob against his throat.

“Your next line is-” You had attempted to mutter out, but you didn’t stand a chance against the way Ajax suddenly leaned in to press a firm against your lips. He pushed you back against the counter, both of his arms caging your body as he towered over you.

You softly sighed into his mouth before swiftly hopping onto the surface of the counter, pulling him impossibly closer when you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

Ajax sneaks a hand up to the back of your head, and softly grasps at your hair, making your mouth fall open in a choked moan.

“A-Ajax..”

He was quick to pull at your roots harder, effectively shutting you up. In strong contrast to the assertive personality you sported just a few minutes prior.

“Not now.”

Your lips smashed back together in a passionate kiss, fueled by pure spite and lust towards one another. Moans poured from your mouth into his, as he greedily swallowed whatever noises you would give him.

“Do you want this as much as I need it?” Ajax mumbled against your mouth as his hand reached down towards the button of your shorts. He didn’t bother to take them off, but instead he softly grabbed at your clothed cunt, as if it were his.

You nod and your thighs squeeze his hand tighter. He lifts you from the counter, and in a flash he throws you down onto your bed, face down ass up with your head against your pillows.

You look back at him and watch as he pulls off his own pants, you knew the costume crew would give you both hell for not changing out of your outfits, but both of you were too clouded by pure lust for each other to care.

Ajax caught your lust filled gaze and made quick work discarding his clothing before leaning down against your body and speaking lowly into your ear. You whimpered into the pillow at the feeling of his strong chest pressing into your back.

“I’ll take care of you, alright? You don’t need anything else right now, got it?”

As if you were under a spell, you immediately nodded against the pillows. The warmth his body provided was short lived, and you almost complained until your shorts were practically torn down your hips, your underwear with them.

A short gasp forced its way from your lips when you felt his finger running gently up your pussy, smearing your arousal against the pad of it. Pushing your hips back, he finally slipped the digit inside of you. He couldn’t help but groan at your warmth and wetness.

“Hurry up.. I told you I have things to do.”

You teasingly remark, swaying your hips as to get his attention.

“Fine.”

Ajax quickly removed his finger from inside of you and used your slick and sticky arousal as lube. You were almost entranced by the way the blunt head of his cock would get caught on the makeshift hole he made with his fist, it made you all too eager to have him inside of you.

As you impatiently waited for him to get on with it already, you suddenly felt a large intrusion poking at your folds. You gasped in shock and gripped the pillow underneath you. And true to his word, he was hasty with his movement.

In one fast movement, his dripping cock was fully sheathed inside your wetness. You could feel the mix of your own sticky slick and his thick pre dripping down your cunt, and stringing down to your plushy thighs.

You let out a low moan at the sensation, subconsciously clenching around him as you adjusted. Ajax let a quiet whimper-like noise at the feeling, and began to shallowly trust. Your ass slapped back against his pelvis, and your soaked pussy was absolutely coating his dick in creamy white arousal.

Grabbing onto your waist, he began to use your body as a personal fucktoy, maneuvering your body like you were nothing but an object. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, using your hips as handles to fuck into you fast and hard.

You pushed back against his body and watched the way he threw his head back in ecstasy at the way your body moved against his. The sounds that were produced every time he withdrew himself and plowed into you were driving both of you crazy.

“You’re amazing.. We should fight more often..”

You rolled your eyes and clenched around him, almost making him double over in pleasure and shock. But as soon as he regained his position, he changed it just as quickly.

Ajax draped his body over yours and reached forward to grab at your jaw. Using his long fingers he forced your mouth open and dipped his index and middle into your panting mouth. Two fingers in your mouth, and three holding your jaw as he relentlessly pounded into your from behind, you were really just a cocksleeve to him. You adored it.

“Try that shit again, see what fucking happens..”

Whimpering, you tried to drop your head back onto the pillow, but his forceful grip on your head forbade you to even attempt it.

“M’sorry.. W-Won’t happen again..”

He craned your neck back to face him, and despite being covered in sweat and running makeup, you looked stunning. He leaned down and pulled you towards him in a sloppy kiss.

Ajax tongue licked everywhere possible inside your mouth, slithering over the backs of your teeth, sliding against your own tongue, everything that was once yours was now his. Your teeth clashed into his, unable to stop your body from being absolutely destroyed by his cock ripping through you.

“You have shit to do? Finish then, right now.”

He let go of your jaw and pushed you harshly back into the pillow, making you whine at how rough he was treating you. He planted one hand on your skull and gripped your hip with the other, using them as leverage to tear you open and permanently claim you as his.

You reached a hand down to rub at your clit, pushing tight circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves as you felt your arousal drip down your fingers, and your body lurched forward with every rough thrust.

“Fucking shit- you’re so fucking wet.. Could fuck you all day..”

Ajax reached down to grab the hand rubbing at your clit and you whined from the loss of contact, and brought your free hand to take its place. He quickly shoved your fingers in his mouth, and his eyes almost immediately flipped to the back of his skull. He groaned from around your fingers, and sucked them clean.

“Tomorrow, same time..”—He couldn’t stop himself from panting, like some kind of animal.—“I need to taste you.”

You wordless agreed through a choked out whimper, you could feel the rubber band inside of you getting pulled farther and farther. With each abusive thrust from the man you hated just moments before, and with each rough swirl of your fingers against your over-sensitive bud, you were due for an explosive climax.

Despite what you had told him earlier, you never wanted this to end. His offer, ‘could fuck you all day’ sounded all too good to you.

But it was far too late, you screamed into your pillow as you positively and utterly soaked everything around you in cum. He gritted out a loud moan through his teeth at the feeling of you fluttering and gushing around him. And despite the tightness threatening to push him out of you, he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, the one that caused you to squirt all over him, the one that he had caused.

It was simply too much for the both of you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your body practically collapsed against the bed. But Ajax was unrelenting. As soon as your own legs and arms gave out under you, he reached under you to grip at your hips. You were pliant, nothing but a sex doll at this point, and he loved it.

“Fuck.. Fucking love this pussy, all mine, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but moan out a faint “mhm” as he used you and abused your plenty stretched hole.

Ajax collapsed against your limp body and you felt his thrusts becoming messier, less calculated, weaker.

“God, you feel so fucking good.. I can’t.. I can’t any more..”

It took virtually no time at all until he exploded into you, completely painting your slick walls in his own release. As he pumped loads of warm cum into you, he groaned out breathy noises into your ear, and you couldn’t help but get worked up again just by hearing him.

Ajax didn’t stop humping at you, and you could feel his cum spurt out of you at how much there was, and how he somehow was still fucking you.

“A-Alright.. Down boy, you’ve had enough for today.”

You weakly murmured as he finally slipped out of you. You flipped over so you were facing the ceiling, which you could barely see through the tears and makeup that brimmed your eyes. Ajax, still panting, collapsed against your chest, pulling your drenched body against his.

Looking down at him, you spoke softly.

“Think we’re good with our chemistry now, right?”

“Yeah.. But it wouldn’t hurt to make sure.”

#ajax petropolus x reader #ajax x reader #ajax petropolus smut #ajax petropolus #dom ajax petropolus #dom ajax #ajax wednesday #dom ajax petropolus x reader

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onirique-amaranth · 2 years

Text

⎮Why run away from the unknown?⎮

⏤ Characters: Tartaglia⎮reader

⏤ Including: nsfw (-17)

⏤ Warnings: sub/bottom Tartaglia, dom/top male reader, alcohol, size kink, overstimulation, urophilia, choking, dacryphilia

⏤ 3.700 words

How crazy would it be to wake up in an unknown world, wholly and utterly lost? With nothing that looked interesting near you and the most important thing, you were alone. You could not hear any voices, nobody shouting after someone else, none of those grandmas complaining about their sons and daughters, not even that damn annoying neighbour who would never understand what 'privacy' is. Just… Nothing.

You were just completely alone. The sound of the wind passing through leaves, surely the chirps of the birds were the only things reaching your ears, but nothing else. The silence was soothing you, making all the tension disappear as you sat down on the ground, looking up at the sky. Everything seemed so calm and quiet, for the first time in your life, you felt at peace.

Perhaps you would have fallen asleep, if it was not for someone shouting from afar, unfortunately breaking the calm bubble of solitude you were in. The voice sounding familiar, while the scenery was not, which was suspicious. As you sat up, your eyes widened, the person in front of you was more than familiar, a character from a game you play, mainly wearing red clothes and a headband, with some goggles. The Outrider, Amber from Genshin Impact. And if she was here, it means that you weren't far from Mondstadt.

You ponder for a while, unsure if it was a good idea to show up at Mondstadt, especially if you did not know what part of the story you were currently in. And while nodding your head to yourself, you stand up, dusting off your pants before walking in a random direction, opposed to the city, hoping you will be able to meet a camp and collect a weapon and some food. You knew you would not survive if you had nothing to defend yourself or any resources.

It took you more or less a week to get completely ready to move from this zone since you wanted to be prepared in case you encounter stronger enemies. You were lucky enough to walk by some merchants and bought a map, so you could understand where you were. The said merchants were sympathetic enough to tell you your current location, and give you something to drink for free.

Confidently, you head for Liyue, days passed before you managed to see the top of some Liyue Harbor's buildings. The city was truly magnificent, you were glad you arrived in the middle of the day, so the sun was high, and it made everything shine, temporarily blinding you.

As you stand there, at the entrance of the city, admiring the view, you completely ignore the people passing by you or the ones trying to talk to you. It's true that you were standing out, your foreigner features and your height catching most passers-by's attention. For now, except for Amber, you did not encounter any important character, and you were glad. Maybe it was for the best since you could say you basically knew the future, you could say something you weren't supposed to, and it was scaring you.

As you were going to walk away, acting as if you did not see the woman standing next to you trying to grab your attention, you felt like someone was staring at you intensely. Their gaze penetrates your body, sending a chill up your spine as if they were trying to kill you with their eyes only. Annoyed, you turn around, glaring at them but freeze on the spot when you notice who it was, it was difficult not to recognize him.

With the obvious messy orange hair and dull blue eyes meeting yours, it was clear who it was. Logically, you should act like nothing happened, just smile and leave, especially with someone as dangerous as him. But it would not be fun, and it was a dream anyway, what could happen?

And he was the one staring in the first place, it wasn't your fault. You were still staring at each other, neither of you looking away, his gaze becomes colder and colder, almost freezing you on the spot. Getting bored by this exchange, you could not help but smile at him sweetly, looking away to let your gaze observe him from head to toe, trying to fluster him. And as you finally meet his eyes again, you offer him a smirk before leaving, the unknown woman from earlier following you with doe eyes. As if you cared about her.

After finally finding somewhere to sleep, you decide to go to the nearest bar, you really needed to relax, this week has been hellish for you. It was surprising how long this dream was, but you did not mind, it should be over soon. This morning's encounter is still on your mind, but you doubt you will see him again anyway, so it was not significant. You were more focused on buying something to drink and spending the rest of your night here.

Unfortunately, you jinxed yourself, and you really need to stop doing that in the future… When you entered the bar, nothing was out of the ordinary except some people standing a bit too close to you. You ignored them and just ordered a drink, the sympathetic barman understood you weren't a client that wanted to discuss, and so, he just gave you your drink with a smile before leaving. As you enjoyed the liquor that was burning down your throat, impressed by the taste since it's something you never tried before, the chair beside you was drawn back. You were excepting one of those annoying people again, but when you turn around to glare at them, it was Tartaglia sitting there instead.

You heard someone complain behind him and as you throw a glance over his shoulder, you see a girl making a fuss over him, saying he stole her seat. You wait some minutes but when you understood that she wasn't going to calm down, you call the barman over with a single hand gesture, he understood that the girl was the problem here and drag her out of the bar. Tartaglia was ignoring her this entire time, just looking at you with those empty eyes of his, but you could perceive something in them that you were not able to identify yet. Surprisingly, you weren't feeling as threatened as this morning, but something still felt wrong with him.

You were observing him silently without a care for anything else, until you notice how he has not moved since then, and that's when you understood how long you have been staring at him like this without saying anything. Embarrassed by what you just did, you turn your head away and make a sign to the barman to serve you two drinks. Perhaps if you pay him something, he will take it and leave. You knew it would not happen, but you still had some hope. You had no idea how to behave without someone like this beside you, and you noticed how he hasn't relaxed his body until now, as if he was ready to jump on you.

When the barman came back with two glasses, you were going to pay for the drinks, thinking about finishing it in one go before leaving. But before you could move, Tartaglia beat you to it and handed the money to a very confused barman that just took it before walking away quickly. To say you were surprised was an understatement, he had no reason to do this, you were just a stranger that stared at him openly twice without any reason.

With a sigh, you just grab the glass, chucking it down immediately. But that was an awful idea. After your throat started to burn along with your tongue, you understood how strong the drink that you ordered was. You knew you could handle your alcohol quite well, but you had no idea if Tartaglia could, and that scared you.

Before you knew it, you were ordering drinks after drinks, either Tartaglia or you choosing what you were going to try next. After all, you were both some foreigners in this country, one being from Snezhnaya, and the other who came from an unknown world. After so much alcohol, you were more or less talking freely to each other, not caring about manners or the fact that you were strangers anymore. With Tartaglia being there, most people didn't dare step closer to you, which guaranteed you a peaceful night that you enjoyed to the fullest. Thankfully for you, even in your tipsy state, you remembered how you never ask his name, and so, never called him by it. For now, you did not make any mistake, guaranteeing your survival.

Turns out, Tartaglia was not better than any other person in this city. You noticed how he was slowly but surely moving closer, the eye contact became longer, the way his hand was inching closer to your thigh, and he even offered to show you around since it was the first time you stepped into Liyue Harbor. He was so out of character, the dull eyes turning brighter, with an abnormal glint in them. But who were you to refuse to spend some time with one of your favourite characters?

As you just finished your last drink in one go, you stand up with the man next to you, grabbing him as he stumbled a bit to the left, holding his arm until you were sure he could walk correctly. You paid before he could, offering him a victorious smirk before leaving the bar alone, bidding him goodbye.

Like you though, he followed you, sneaking behind you like a shadow. You keep acting oblivious to his strange behaviour, not wanting to put yourself in more danger than you already were. Did he really think you were that drunk to not notice him? Seems like you were good at faking being tipsy.

You let him follow you to the place you were staying at, unlocking the door before closing it behind you, not locking it again knowing it was useless. You purposely made more noises than you usually would, leaving your shoes in the middle of the corridor, and turning all lights off before slamming the door of your bedroom. You sit down on a chair in the living room without making noises, watching with apprehension the door, certain that he would try to enter your apartment.

And it seems like you were right because a minute later, you hear the handle make a creaking noise as it was moved down, the door opening silently. The quiet steps of the Harbinger filled the room as he headed to your bedroom directly as if he knew exactly where it was, the door creaking open as he continued to walk shortly after, and suddenly he went silent, as he surely stopped in front of your bed. As quietly as you could, you stand up, sneaking behind him, grabbing his neck, choking him. He barely had the time to react when you murmured into his ear 'knew it', before knocking him out.

You knew it would happen, you were behaving too suspiciously for him to ignore it. You were certain he was planning to kill you, perhaps thinking you were a spy. You had tied Tartaglia to the bed, waiting for him to wake up, as you choose to not tire yourself out for nothing, knowing it was useless to run away from him. He was not the type of man to give up anyway so, you were dead either way if you run away or if you stay there with him. A sudden grunt coming from the said man made you come back to reality. The only thing you said was, 'what were you trying to do?', watching as he has already come back to his senses, too quickly for a normal human.

As the man looks up at you, you were ready for a glacial death glare, showing off his murderous intent, but instead, you were met with a lustful look and reddening cheeks. So similar to the look he gave you this morning.

That's when it hit you, how badly you had mistaken his intention. But he still wasn't a good man, as he has still broken into your house after following you home, and he was clearly not having any innocent thoughts. As you get up to untie him, you kneel on the bed to reach the rope around his wrists, unintentionally placing your knee too close to him, as it rubs against his crotch, forcing a moan out of him.

You freeze and try to stop moving your knee while focusing on untying his left hand, you could feel how he started to grind his hips against your thigh himself, moans pouring out of his mouth. He picked up the pace, now fully humping your thigh like a cheap whore, his sounds becoming more frequent as his release was near. But just before he could cum, you move away, watching as he humped the air pathetically, chasing after your body. The pitiful whine he let out went straight to your cock, twitching inside your pants.

You can't help the smirk growing onto your face, watching how pitiful he was. This man purposely came here to get fucked, whether it was consensual on your part or not. And now, he was almost crying for attention as you ignored his needs.

Before Tartaglia knew it, he was on all fours on the bed, his hands, and forearm tied behind his back, forcing his shoulder back painfully. His head was pressed into the pillow by your hand, and breathing correctly became a challenge for him. He could sense your shadow loom over him, your free hand caressing his exposed back, nails leaving red marks behind. Chills go up his spine as you glide your fingers down his back slowly, touches as soft as a feather, and he gasps as his underwear is tugged down sudden. You let go of his head, so your big hands could spread his legs apart, the cold air hitting his ass as he tightens around nothing, legs shaking pitifully. Your laughter fills the room as he burns from embarrassment.

One of your fingers was pushing against his hole, the first phalange barely entering before drawing it back, teasing him. It leaves him to wiggle towards your fingers, trying to push them more into him. As he throws his hips back forcefully, you raise your hand before slamming it back down on his ass, his body jerking forward with the impact as you hear the loudest moan of the night. You could only watch with amused eyes as his body shivered under you, his sniffles reaching your ears as he stops moving, understanding your implied order. He was acting like a well-behaved boy so suddenly, and it made you even more excited. Roughly, you tug his hair back, exposing his crying face to you as you spank him one more time, listening to his loud moan.

The feeling in Tartaglia's stomach grew rapidly, the alcohol still into both your systems affecting your bodies and minds. He was getting light-headed and his mind slowly became blank. He needed more, just a bit more.

You lick the tears off his face, and you use this sweet act as a distraction, plunging your fingers fully into him without a warning. He cries out when he felt the long fat fingers loosening his hole, rubbing against his walls at an irregular pace. Almost cumming at the sudden pleasure. His face was stained with fresh tears as his head was resting against your shoulder, the warmth almost comforting him while you prepare him. But suddenly, you stopped moving your fingers, frustrating him to no end.

You ask yourself if he really deserved or wanted to be prepared, thinking about just slamming inside him right now. When you observe his face, you notice how his eyes rolled back almost as if he was going to pass out. You gently nuzzled your face into his neck, trying to bring him back before biting his neck harshly, breaking the skin as blood slid down his body. The pain sends an exquisite feeling from his neck to his back, his body trembling as his whines get louder, his face showing how much he was enjoying your torture. But before he could cum, you stop touching him once again, leaving his body to flop down uselessly on your bed, Tartaglia was unable to do anything but look up at you with shocked eyes.

You watch amused as he struggles to sit up, looking back at you, teary begging eyes asking you to help him, but you stay there, unmovingly. With a whimper, he crawls to you, hands resting on your shoulders as he tries to reach your face to kiss you. Your hands move to his thighs, lifting him up, placing him over your cock, the tip pressing against his hole. He felt loopy and high as you forced him down, the sweet pain coursing through his body as you stretched him out more than he thought possible.

His body has difficulty getting used to the sensation, as he feels you in his stomach, a bulge showing through his skin as he pushes against it with a shaky hand. It was becoming too much for his poor brain, as it stopped functioning when you bottomed out, balls slapping against his entrance. His tongue lolled out, drool falling onto your body. You help him sink back down, as he sits dumbly on top of you, unable to think about something else.

That's when you noticed how you never gave him your name, and after murmuring it lowly into his ear, you begin to move him up and down harshly. Instantly, he started to whimper your name… only at first, because after each thrust, he was getting louder and louder, nearly screaming at some point.

You thought he came as his hole tighten around you, but he only let some pitiful drops out of his tip. You could not help but mock him, watching as his tears doubled, and his face become redder, freckles standing out as his cheeks were burning, feeling ashamed to not even be able to handle some minutes with you. You slowly learned how his body was working, observing like a hawk his reactions and so, you pressed on a special spot with a smirk, watching him break on top of you.

Suddenly, you grabbed him, and threw him back onto the bed, he just had the time to push on his arms to be on all fours before you drill back into him. Your hand sneaks to his throat, choking him while pushing his head into the pillow, which was already covered in drool and tears. He felt so disgusting as his face was rubbed against his own fluids, humiliation send him spiralling. As you tighten your grip, completely cutting his air flow, his hips jerked up suddenly, the pain made him cum on the spot. Unfortunately, you keep going, ignoring his whines and forcing him to cum once again, the tip of his cock turning a strong shade of red under the stimulation.

You started to pity him and so, as the good person you were, you turn him on his back. You force his legs apart, speeding up your pace to bring yourself to your orgasm faster. He kept whimpering, throat too dry to scream or moan anymore, he could feel you move in his hole, forcing his insides to accept your cock deeper. As his stomach was exposed to your eyes, you could perceive the movement of your cock, as the bulge was even more noticeable than before.

Stomach burning up as you felt close too, you kept edging yourself since earlier, and it was starting to get to your head. Muscles roll under the skin as you chase after your release, using your last strength to go deeper, making Tartaglia cry and beg, overstimulated and losing his mind. You were thrusting harshly, repetitive movements turn into you railing him at an impressive speed. Tartaglia's head slammed back as his body trembled, the tension in his stomach too strong for him, and at the same instant, your own stomach tightens, and you cum, shouting your load deep into him.

Euphoria flows through your veins, your head spinning as you feel Tartaglia twitches one last time around you. But instead of cumming all over himself, he pissed, unable to hold it in. He was still conscious enough to understand what was happening, blushing from embarrassment, still crying and mumbling your name over and over. He could feel his belly bulging from your load, some of it leaking out of his hole and onto the bed.

As you let go of his body, he falls onto the bed, unconscious and limp, not having enough stamina to stay awake any longer. With a sigh, you decide to clean him up, changing into some of your clothes before tucking him into your bed, lying beside Tartaglia in silence, knowing he would leave before the sun goes up. For the second time of the night, you kissed him, thinking he was asleep, or you thought so.

Unsurprisingly, when you woke up, you were alone in your room, the cold bed beside you proved that he left a while ago. After cleaning and changing the sheets, you dressed up, leaving the apartment to discover the Liyue Harbor by yourself. But when you opened the door, he was standing there, waiting for you. Cheeks reddening and cute freckles stand out as he sees you, he grabs your forearm, dragging you away in silence. Unbeknown to you, a bright blue mark on the back of your neck lightened up whenever Tartaglia would touch you.

And from afar, a tall dark brown-haired man was glaring at the two of you. Your scent seemed familiar, bringing back a nice feeling he forgot a long time ago. His eyes became luminescent as his tail and horns appeared, his stomach turning as he feels lust take over the rest of his senses. With a smirk, he goes back to work, thinking about how he could prepare your encounter and have your attention on him, only him. He couldn't help but feel annoyed as the ginger managed to meet you before him. He needed to do something about that, especially when he could see this blue mark on your nape, tainting your body.

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

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angelsrcute · 2 months

Note

being sneaky w childe when the three of you (with traveler) are like adventuring or something

also good luck for your examss! 🍀

Crazy, Crazy in love with you. ౨ৎ

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Chile + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: blowjob, praising, aphrodisiac ᡴꪫ‎

Nothing much really happened, You, Traveller and Childe were out fighting some hilichurl because apparently a certain ginger was bored n wanted to fight! (deffo not Childe)

You and Childe had got lost afterwards and got hit by an aphrodisiac flower, Childe wanted to give you some flowers while throwing in cheesy pick-up lines.

You had been pushed to your knees, his cock throbbing with need in front of you and now, his hands gripping your hair, sweet praises leaving his lips as you try your best to suck him off, gosh, it's big. “Baby, your mouth feels so good, good girl, hah…so good f'me”

Where did the traveller go, you wonder, it'd be so embarrassing if you two got caught by the traveller.

A sudden thrust brought you back to reality, “Baby, keep your eyes on me, don't think of anything else..” Childe says with a pout, eyes dazed. With one final thrust he shoots thick ropes of cum in your mouth.

“Swallow,” he says. His hands pushing a finger between your lips, your tongue out, satisfied that you swallowed it.

“Hey, I think we have some time before traveller finds us, how bout’ having a quick fuck, please?” Childe says with a puppy look in his eyes, ah, shit, is that blond hair you see?? This guy isn't even paying attention to anything else but you as he undresses you.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dom character #sub reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #childe smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #ajax x reader #ajax smut #𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 :: 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 (ᵔ◡ᵔ)#genshin x female reader

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brayneworms · 3 days

Text

don't wanna know what's good for me

part one | m.list

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.2k

content. NSFW, merc!reader, rivals to Something, masochist!childe, public sex (they're alone but like ... ), gender neutral reader, mild violence + gore (stabbing, blood), degradation (slut), anal fingering, handjob, pet names (sweet thing), begging, reader is fucked in tha head.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes you will be blocked

♩ gods and monsters — lana del rey

The Snezhnayan air is bitter.

All the more for the fact that, even as you traverse the long lapses of snow and frozen rivers, you're still not entirely sure what you're doing here. Even as you emerge upon the house, a round hike from the bustling towns some way back, lit warmly against the overcast backdrop, you're not entirely sure what you're doing here.

Even when you knock and a tired-looking woman with blue eyes and fiery red hair opens the door, because when she asks if she can help you, you open your mouth and nothing comes out for a few seconds.

"I'm here to see Tar—Childe," you say. Oh. You guess that's what you're doing here.

The door stays pretty much put. The woman looks at you dubiously, and you realise with the same kind of shock a butterfly must feel when getting its wings ripped off that this must be Childe's mother. Archons, he has a mother. Not like you didn't know, but still. Sometimes it's so strange to remember that he's flesh and blood like the rest of you.

"Are you... a friend?" You can't fault her doubtful tone. You certainly don't look Fatui, but you're not an ordinary civilian, either. You probably should have stashed away your daggers before knocking; if you're honest, you hadn't expected Childe to live in such an ordinary home. "He's recovering right now, is all."

"No, yeah. That's why I'm here." The words feel stuck, awkward. Her deep blue eyes are swimming with doubt, so you reach into your pocket. Your fingers brush the hilt of a knife.

You hold up the little box you've stowed in your pocket. Gift-wrapped with a blue ribbon.

"I brought sugared almonds."

Childe looks thunderstruck when you walk in, and you take a moment to enjoy the honest shock on his face. He looks tired—when he sits up, the woven blankets fall from his shoulders and pool about his waist, displaying a bare torso bandaged to all hell. You can't fault his surprise whatsoever—it had been months since you'd seen each other, since he left Liyue after... well.

The memory of chalk and dirt under your nails, flaking in his hair. The grunts of pain and pleasure that became so frequent the line was quite blurred. You remember how the column of his throat flexed when—

"Scourge," he says, wide-eyed, voice a little rougher than normal. You're not entirely sure what happened in Fontaine, but it must have been exceptionally rough to put Childe on his back like this. You can't help feeling a smidge of envy toward whoever fucked him up so thoroughly. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Not this time," you say indifferently, taking a perch on the edge of his bed. His room is disconcertingly boyish, all carved wood and blue knit blankets. There are animals incised along the headboard of his bed, ducks and narwhals and whales. "Brought you a little gift."

You toss the package of almonds over, and his automatic catch of it makes him wince. His fingers are as steady as ever, though, when he deftly unties the ribbon. His eyes peer up at you, even more nonplussed than before. "Did you trek all the way to Snezhnaya to bring me sweets?"

"Oh, you didn't hear? My goal in life is to make you happy." You dig in your satchel, bringing out a small medallion. Childe's eyes glint with recognition when you pull it out into the firelight. "The traveller asked me to return this to you."

"Ah," he breathes. "What a sight for sore eyes." He reaches out, this time, takes it from your hand; you feel the dry brush of his skin against yours. The vision glows happily when Childe cups it in his palm, turning it over and over. "I was wondering how I would've gone about getting this back. The dear traveller is so busy, flitting from one nation to the next... I thought I might've had to trek all the way to Natlan, visionless."

You shuck off your boots and cross your legs beneath you. "Don't tell me you think not having a vision would encumber your progress. You'd really disappoint me."

Childe cracks a smile; there's a split in his lips that has scabbed over, and it strains when they pull apart. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

He's still irritating, like a bug that buzzes faintly around your ear, the sort small enough to constantly evade killing. But something about seeing him stripped of all his usual finery, and trussed up looking exhausted in his childhood bedroom, is making you more amenable to him.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth," he says finally, popping a sugared almond between his lips, and you try not to focus on the way they purse and squish around the segment, "But what are you really doing here, scourge? Did you miss me?"

"I think we had this conversation before," you say dryly. "Something about swatting mosquitoes." You pause. "Liyue has certainly been quieter, though. Without all the gods falling form the skies, and torrential typhoons."

Childe's lips quirk. "Well, if you've come looking for adventure, I'm afraid things around here are spectacularly boring. In truth, I grow more restless every day. I'd be up and about already if my blessed mother didn't insist on making me rest. There are a great many things in this world worth arguing with, scourge, but a fifty-year-old Snezhnayan woman isn't one of them."

"I'll bare that in mind."

His eyes gleam. "Oh? You almost sound as if you're planning to stay."

Ugh. You hate when he trips you up like that. He's one of the only people capable of it, too—not that you'd let him know. You squint at him flatly.

"Well. Maybe if you make it worth my while," you drawl, biting back a smirk at the way it makes his ears turn red. "I'm sure I could find something to wave my big sword at in the meantime."

Childe's eyebrows waggle. "Well, if you're looking for a big sword—"

"Down, boy." You jab a finger into his chest, just shy of the bandage wraps, and his shoulders convulse around it with a choked gasp of pain. He glances up at you beneath gingery lashes, so pale you can see the wide, deep blue pools of his irises with eerie ease. Dead-fish blue. You raise your eyebrows. "What're you looking at me like that for?"

He huffs weakly. "I think we both know I have a propensity for a little pain."

"In your family home, Childe? Beneath your blessed mother's roof?" You drag your finger painstakingly down his sternum, over the bandages; you can see the frayed purpling edges of bruising beneath them when they dip beneath your finger, and Childe tenses and groans quietly. He shifts imperceptibly closer to you, and you let your hand drop.

It's too easy. He looks so boyish here. It's honestly throwing you off. You withdraw your hand, aware that something cold must be shuttering over your expression because you see his own one drop in response, brows coming to knit together in a tiny expression of confusion.

"Nah," you say lightly. "Come find me when you're a challenge again. Enjoy the almonds, sweet thing."

Because, yeah—you've never liked anything easy. It's why you carve your way through Teyvat in a bloody railroad, one gang out outlaws at a time. The money you get is only a bonus; your real price, the only one that matters, is torment.

Childe slumps back into his pillows, scrubbing a hand down his face with a wry chuckle. "Ha... might've known. Don't worry, scourge, I won't be such a bitter disappointment for long."

You stand. "I know. Or you're not the guy I thought you were."

It's a month or so before you see him again.

You stick to your word and hang around Snezhnaya, eventually finding some sort of cold, dusky beauty in the frozen plains. The architecture is intricate and colourful, and the people conservatively hostile, which works for you just fine. People were much too friendly in Liyue and Mondstadt; you feel more like you're among your own kind here.

You end up contacting the adventurer's guild and taking on a few bounties, just for enough cash to hold down steady accommodation and food. You don't think too hard on why you're determined to stick around, when flight has always been much more your style. You immerse yourself, for the next few weeks, in wrestling bandits off of trading routes and collecting Hilichurl masks.

It's one evening as you circle a frozen lake, picking off members of a bandit guild that have taken to pickpocketing merchants, that he reappears to you. You're locked in a pretty ugly fight with a monster of an outlaw, taller and thicker than you, when something wet touches your cheek. A flash of water, so hard and sharp as to resemble a glaive, cuts past you and slices through the guy's skin, bearing a spill of scarlet blood. He jumps back with a scream of pain and rage, hefts his rusted ax to take another swing, and you see a flash of ginger and white cut past you.

Childe's water-daggers move so fast that they look like wet blue blurs, making ribbons of the guy's shirt and flesh. Combined with the injuries you'd already imparted upon him, it was no time at all until he dropped to the ground, blood leaking from him to salt the frozen earth. The rest of his guys scarpered pretty quickly.

Childe turned around to face you, a grin on his face. His pupils were slightly dilated—probably sinking his blade into something after so long felt like taking a drink after a stretch of sobriety for someone like him. Not that you could judge; you got antsy, too, when you hadn't fought for a while. Like your hands were filled with too much energy, and if you weren't using them for violence you weren't sure what the point of them was. They became merely many-fingered appendages, attached decoratively to your arms.

"I had him," you mutter, sheathing your swords. Childe bobs on his feet, almost floating with ecstatic energy.

"I know," he says, easily enough that mollifies your bad mood a little. "Just got a little overexcited at being able to fight again. I've missed it more than you can know."

There's blood spattered across his front, a daub across his face and arcing down his pretty dove-grey suit. Here, in the cold of his home nation, he wears a thick fur cloak over his shoulders; it makes him look grander, more impressive. Fatui, indeed.

He catches you looking and his smile gets wider; it barely even resembles a smile anymore, actually, more a baring of teeth. Coupled with the wild eyes, he looked suitably as feral as he is inside. Something deep in your gut twinges at the sight.

"You know, you surprise me," Childe comments, his watery blades dissipating into the air with a flick. "You'll cut your way through a battlefield, but you won't fuck me in my childhood bedroom? Your morals are all over the place, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say automatically, finding you can barely blink when you look at him. "Fucking freak. You want me to make you cry when your siblings are running over the place?"

"They know not to come into my room," Childe pouts. "Mama doesn't like them to be able to stumble across all my weapons, lest they learn what I truly do for a living. Anyway, that isn't the point. I just can't work you out."

You work your jaw for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. You've never been very good with words—Childe seems to have an endless supply of them, with an uncanny ability to fashion them in any poetic formation he likes. He certainly knows which ones will get under your skin the most, and the pretty way his lips tie up like a bow when he puts emphasis on some of them. You've always been more hands-on. It's no wonder this is what you do for a living, really.

So instead you ask abruptly, "You're all healed up, right?"

Childe tilts his head, looking only mildly surprised. "Fit as a fiddle."

"Show me. You had a pretty nasty bruise on your chest last time I looked." You cross your arms expectantly as Childe blinks, looks around. The landscape around you is assuredly deserted; you're miles and miles from the nearby town. The risk of being stumbled across isn't zero, but it's pretty damn close.

"...Here?" Childe asks.

"Whose morals are all over the place now?" you grumble, indicating the bandit still bleeding out on the floor some feet away. Childe huffs a laugh, escaping him in a frosty white cloud.

"Fair enough. I concede to you, scourge," he sighs, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You try not to look overly-eager, but something in your expression must give you away anyway, because he catches your eye and laughs as though enjoying a private joke. His fingers are deft as they slip buttons through expensive-looking silk, baring the pale slice of his stomach to you.

Around the snow's white glare, he looks paler than ever, skin practically lurid against the waves of dark orange hair and freckles scattering his shoulders. They spiral down his chest, absent of any bandages now, the only remnants of the ugly bruising a slight mauve discolouration crowding around his sternum.

You poke it; not much of Childe is overly soft, save for a small pouch at the bottom of his abdomen. He's all sinewy muscle, oscillating between lean and bulky. The tops of his arms and shoulders are broad, but he whittles down to a small waist and sharp hips, the suggestions of which you can see now with his skin bared: the ghostly impressions of bones, disappearing into his waistband.

"I'm a sight for sore eyes, right?" Childe says, a note of breathlessness in his voice. You hum dispassionately, poking at the remainder of the bruise; it gives like the skin of overripe fruit, smushing beneath your finger, and Childe shivers. "Wish mama let me out of bed earlier. I'd still have a lovely bruise for you to torment."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" you murmur, and run your tongue over your bottom teeth. "Lie down. I'll bruise you up again."

You follow him down to the ground; when you kneel, the snow starts melting through the fabric of your pants, makes your knees wet and cold. Childe lays on his cloak, looking up at you warily.

"I won't submit so easily this time," he tells you, sticking his chin up. "You'll have to fight me for control."

You shrug as though it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference. "Okay. I'll win."

Childe shivers; you expect that knowing you'll win is half the fun to him. He likes challenging you just to be shot down. You thought, before, that he was simply a masochist. Now you think that being overpowered, specifically, is what gets him off. Not that you care for the psychosexual intricacies of whatever is wrong with him. You just like feeling strong, and he's strangely pretty, and you like taking the will out of pretty things.

Still, he does begin to make good on his promise. His hand knots in the collar of your cape and he pulls you down for a bruising kiss. You realise with a thrill that he tastes sweet and earthy, and that he's been eating the almonds you left him. It's a fucking weird amount of preparedness, and the idea that he'd come here hoping for this... it excites you. You kiss him harder, shoving his shoulders down to the ground and climbing on top of him.

His hand slips under your shirt, fingers spanning over the stretch of your stomach, and you falter just momentarily. He hadn't really touched you at all, last time—your positions are remarkably familiar, but this initiative is different. Last time he had merely enjoyed being overpowered. This time, you think he craves the fight of it. His thumb strokes over the skin of your abdomen, tantalisingly close to your waistband, and you curse the warmth that unfolds in your gut. You can't start feeling good, not yet, not until you have the higher ground over him.

You drag your lips down, pin them against his cheek until you get to the sharp vertice of his jaw; you tongue the underside of it, finding the ridge of his pulse point and dragging your teeth over it, feeling his hand falter and clench involuntarily.

This is how it should be with him—teeth and nails and tongue. The kind of fucking that lovers do is a million miles from this. It's something sort of angry, sort of reverent, like the worship of an evil god.

"You're such a fucking slut," you growl, and you're close enough to his throat to see the way it flexes when he swallows. "You wanted me to fuck you that first day, didn't you? With your poor family on the other side of those walls? Do you give it up that easy for everyone?"

Childe's breathing picks up; beneath your legs, you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch. When he opens his mouth to reply, you jam two fingers between his lips, feeling the inside of his mouth. He makes a choked noise, but his tongue immediately comes up to lap at the pads of your fingers, lips closing around the knuckle.

You sate yourself, taking several deep breaths even though the hot, wet inside of his mouth has your skin tingling. He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through your flesh, and when you press down on his tongue he makes a pretty gagging sound that makes you close your eyes briefly. Fuck, you want to hear it again.

Whilst your distracted, Childe shifts his leg; his knee slots itself between your own, pushing up against you with a suddenness that makes you inhale sharply and grit your teeth. Childe can't exactly smile with your fingers in his mouth, but he makes a smug noise and his eyes flutter with faux-innocence.

With your free hand, you wrestle his thigh from you and pin it to the floor with your knee. Childe is still making obscene noises around your fingers—putting it on, you'd wager. He sounds like the squealing painted girls in brothels, just stifled by the digits down his throat. You glare at him because it's easier than admitting how much it's turning you on.

With your free hand, you fumble for the opening of his trousers, delighting in the way his throat spasms with shock as you open up the slacks. It's tricky work to shuck the fabric down his thighs, and even trickier to restrain yourself when his legs come into view. They're built, stocky, crisscrossed with pale scars and freckles, and the urge to grab and squeeze is actually painful to resist. Instead you focus on the bulge in his dark briefs and the way his skin pebbles in the cold.

You push your fingers down his throat once, further, until he coughs and jerks and then you pull them free. In the cool evening light, they glisten with saliva, rolling down to your wrist. Childe's lips are glossy, eyes glazed over as he watches you; when you squeeze your dry hand over the tent in his underwear, the full force of his moan rips from him, loud and wavering, perhaps unaware that he'd have to stifle himself now without the gag of your fingers.

He flings his spare arm over his face, mortified.

"Cute," you croon, changing tack. "You're so cute like this, Childe. All small under me, yeah?"

"Shut up, scourge," he groans. "You know where I'm not small?"

You pinch his thigh, making it spasm prettily. You watch the red mark bloom up and fade, like a flower's life in fast motion. "I know where I'm not gonna be touching, sure."

Childe cracks open an eye, staring at you. "Huh?"

You shrug. "What'd you think you were getting my fingers wet for? Decoration?"

You can see his eyes widen with the realisation, even as you tug his underwear down along with his trousers. He casts another furtive look around, but there's no real concern in his gaze. In fact, if you had to guess, he looks almost hopeful that someone will stumble across you both like this. Degenerate.

You slip your hand down his stomach, feeling taut muscle and soft flesh, watching as it twitches with each sharp breath. Between his legs, he's half-hard already, and he twitches when you ghost your hand, feather-light over him. His hips cant up, once, as much as they can with you sitting on his thighs.

You bypass his cock, using your knee to knock his legs further apart and reach between his legs. The first light brush of your fingers over his hole has Childe gritting his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek very hard. His eyes burn into you, cold blue fire, when you carefully ease the tip of your index finger inside.

You let out a breath, chest aching. He's hot inside, tight; you feel him trembling against you as you glance up at him. "No shot you're a virgin here," you comment as languidly as possible, as if your heart isn't beating a harsh tattoo against your ribs. "There goes my theory of how you got so high up in the Fatui."

Childe makes a strangled noise that was probably supposed to be a retort. You don't move your finger either way, watching his face closely for signs of honest discomfort or pain. But there's just a concentrated furrow between his brows.

"You want me to go further?" you ask, voice like silk. "You wanna feel me inside?"

He groans, twisting simultaneously to and away from you. "Scourge—"

"Ask nicely, or I'll stop."

He swallows again; his internal conflict with his own pride is tantalising in the way you wish it could be made into something physical, something you could eat.

"Keep going," he pants. He blinks big, round eyes at you, playing the innocent lamb. "Pretty please?"

It should be no dice—you want him to ask as him, to feel the scorch of humiliation, not as some character. But before you realise it, your finger is sinking into the first knuckle, and his head thuds back against the snow with a punched-out gasp.

God, you wish you could fuck him properly. You'd give anything to stretch him out around you, but you don't have any of the tools or supplies you'd need. So your fingers would have to do for now. Your free hand gathers a handful of his ass and gropes, watching the fat bleed between your fingers as he yelps, hips squirming against your hand.

It takes several minutes and a lot more spit to ease another finger inside of him, and his thighs tense at the brush. His hips rock insistently against your hand, groaning behind a bitten lip, and when your fingers finally have enough give to start moving he makes a cut-off strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"Bet I could make you come like this," you mumble, more to yourself than anything else. "Won't even have to touch your pretty cock, will I? Look at it, crying for some attention." You sort of flick it with your spare hand and he makes a sound like he's dying, eyes flying open.

"Scourge, Archons," he curses, dick jumping in interest despite it all. His mouth hangs open, a slack 'O' of over-sensation. "You're so cruel. That hurt."

"That's the point," you mutter. "Otherwise you wouldn't come to me for this, would you?"

Childe squirms, pouts. "Still. I'm but a simple village boy. I'm not built for a beast like you."

You laugh, almost genuine. "'S that what I am? A beast?" Your fingers curl up inside him, brushing against a tough spot that makes him keen against you, hips jerking.

"I—" he pants, lip trembling. "What?"

"Beasts are selfish creatures," you comment. "A beast would never think of letting you come on their fingers. So surely you're confusing me with someone else, yeah?"

"Yeah," he gasps, rocking against your hand. "Scourge, please. You're killing me here."

"I wish. You'd probably be quieter." But you acquiesce, starting a slow rhythm of your fingers in and out of him. You're slow, working them up to the second knuckle, trying not to shiver at the heat inside of him. When you curl your fingers up against that spot, he keens like a dying dog, thighs clamping around your body slotted between them. It's... a pretty sight, you think. You've never been averse to admitting that he's handsome. You've always had an affinity for breaking pretty things.

It's part of the game, you think.

You move inside him like you're ringing a bell, and Childe's breathing starts coming in short, sharp bursts as he writhes against your hand. After not too long at all his witty remarks trail off into bitten-off grunts and moans, twisting his head into the snow in some effort to try and hide them. With your free hand, you curl your fingers in his hair and yank, feeling the feathery red strands go taut against your digits.

"Don't hide from me, sweet thing," you croon, and Childe shuts his eyes as though praying for patience; his cheeks are bright red, making his freckles more lurid. He shudders and gasps when you yank his hair, body arching so much that he lifts off the floor. You take the opportunity to painstakingly work in a third finger. He shudders at the stretch, the inevitable burn, so you try to distract him. You push his shirt away from the rest of his torso, finding the nipple with a healed slash through it and rolling it between your fingers.

Childe shudders; he looks strangely young in this moment, the age he truly is—what, twenty-five? Barely that? He's flushed down to the chest, stomach convulsing under the comparatively soft gestures. You stroke and pinch him until his hips push tentatively back at your hand again—signalling, in his way, consent for continuation.

You tut. "So greedy. Did you forget anyone could walk across us?" you ask, and Childe makes a broken-off groan. "Maybe you want that? How long do you think it would take the talk to get back to the Fatui, hm? Nobody would ever take you seriously again. Some warmonger you turned out to be, writhing in the snow like a helpless animal, about to come on my hand."

Childe gasps, nodding frantically. "Yes—yes—"

"Yes, you're going to come?" You can't help the wicked smile that spreads over your face, like an infection, like a blight, like something that doesn't look at home.

"Yes, Archons, scourge," he wails pitifully. You get the feeling his body would be spasming if you weren't pinning half of it down. He's bright red against the plains of snow, lips bitten red, eyes barely able to stay open. One of his hands wrapped around your wrists, dragged your hand to his cock; it looked painful now, weeping pre from the tip. "Touch me here."

You roll your eyes. "Why should I?"

"Please," he whines, blinking up at you. "I'm sorry for being annoying earlier. I just wanted you to..."

"I know what you wanted. I'm not in the habit of rewarding brats," you say, but your eyes are glued to where he's put your hand. You haven't moved it, yet. He's hot and hard and wet under your palm, twitching to life when your fingers brush over the burning skin. He makes a wavery, sort of sobbing noise when you don't make any move, hips jerking pathetically for some kind of friction.

"For fuck's sake," you mutter, making your hand into a loose fist and wrapping your fingers around him. His jaw hangs open, eyes rolling back as his pale lashes flutter, and you stroke him quickly in time with your fingers moving in, out, the pace brutal and punishing—exactly how he likes it, and exactly how you like it. Every breath punched from his chest is a moan, hoarse and desperate. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, and you realise he's torn the inside of his cheek to shreds with his teeth trying to be quiet.

It's thrilling, that he'd bloody himself just to try and get under your skin, and that he'd fail anyway. He's pretty like this. And close, you can tell by the way his muscles go tense, moving under pale skin like liquid. His throat is bared for you, head thrown back and he's uttering strings of unintelligible curses under his breath. Fuckohfuckpleasepleasescourgepleaseithurtsplease—

"Come on, Childe," you murmur, leaning in close, mouthing over his pulse point and feeling it jackrabbit against. "Make a mess for me."

With a few hoarse, desperate noises, a strangled "Fuck, fuck—" his body convulses beneath you, eyes squinching shut; his insides clamp around your fingers, spend spilling across your hands and his stomach in pearly arcs, hot and wet and pretty disgusting. You ease your fingers out of him as quickly and carefully as possible, not wanting to linger for the aftershocks.

He's limp like a dead fish beneath you, chest expanding, collapsing, over and over like a supernova as he struggles for breath. He looks physically winded, dazed like someone's beat the shit out of him. You take the opportunity to tuck him away and tug at his underwear and trousers, yanking them back up his thighs.

He mumbles something incoherently, sluggishly lifts his hips to assist you. After you button him back up he makes an effort to prop himself up on his elbows, looking up at you blearily.

"You didn't bite me this time," he says, sounding almost rueful. Your eyes dart to the healing ring of teeth at the junction of his shoulder, a mass of blunt scars coiled in a half-wreath. You pang at the thought that one day it might be replaced entirely by new, smooth skin, unmarred, unmarked.

You swallow. "There's still time."

"Nah. Moment's passed." He sighs, shaky fingers working at his shirt. "You'll have to do something worse next time."

Your mouth quirks into a smile before you can stop it. "Next time, huh?"

"I certainly hope so." He cocks his head, blue eyes catching the light briefly, the way they so often miss it. Like something inside it is permanently dampening it. "I'm only getting stronger, y'know. You'll have to fight me even harder for it next time. Or maybe I'll be the one telling you what to do."

"When hell freezes over, maybe," you say. The both of you cast a look around at the frozen wasteland around you and crack up laughing; it reminds you of the seldom times you'd spend together in taverns in Liyue, scarily normal for once.

"Well, I'll count the days," he hums, getting to his feet properly. His legs tremble a little, but he still offers you a hand. You take it. Maybe because it doesn't feel like it's accepting help, from someone so provably weaker.

Some feet away, the bandit's blood has turned the snow bright red.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #ajax smut #genshin x reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin x gn!reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #childe x dom!reader #sub!childe #sub!tartaglia

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dilucspanties · 1 year

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Biting

ਏਓ

about ; biting headcannons

warnings ; fem!reader, biting, nsfw, mention of blood

includes ; scaramouce, itto, childe, kaeya

[ from mono ; this request was originally from my old account for biting hc's for scaramouche. included some others i think would be into it ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ ]

childe.

ajax, tartaglia, childe, all the names he goes by does not even hold a candle to how much this man adores being bitten by you.

yes, that's right, he loves being bitten by you.

the 11th harbinger is a complete slut for you and would ideally do anything you asked him to.

he wants to be all yours, just as he wants you to be all his. so, what better way to show who he belongs to and cherishes more than a mark? a bite mark.

he would most likely cum as soon as you sink your teeth onto his skin. there's something so raw and primal about it that allows him to disregard the pain and feel the absolute pleasure of being yours.

he would also be incredibly obnoxious about it too, showing his bite mark off during fatui meetings, always leaning his neck to the side to show it off.

he's like a loyal lap dog who loves whatever treat you give him, almost to the point where he would beg for it whenever he's close to cumming.

"oh go- please, bite me- fuck, please, please, please bite me-"

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

itto.

as we all know, itto is an oni. that means there is damn near no way this man does not 1. have a breeding kink, and 2. become so possessive during sex that he loses it and leaves marks and bites all over you.

however, itto with a breeding kink is a separate thing.

itto loves marking you.

whether it is leaving hickeys on your chest or bitemarks on your thighs, itto goes absolutely feral seeing you all marked up because of him.

much like ajax, itto is also a loyal lap dog who does whatever you ask.

however, he's also a bit of a selfish lapdog who makes it very well known that you're his, though he'll probably go crazy if you say it aloud.

he talks a lot of crap, but at the end he's a muddled mess the second you beg him to mark you and show everyone you're his.

"oh-, oh wow! um, yeah heh, of course! that was hot.. can you ask me again?"

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

kaeya.

kaeya is a flirt, we all know this. we also know he's the #1 pick to date from all grandma's in mondstat. so, where does this leave us?

kaeya gives you a ton of shit for liking being bitten, but you know all too well that he loves doing it.

the cavalry captain would never do such perverted things, as he is an angel in the face of everyone.

however, behind closed doors, that sadistic and teasing smile of his drives you insane.

he always teases you, leaving light kisses along your neck as you're almost in tears begging him to bite you and leave a mark for everyone to see.

who was he to deny a beautiful woman in tears asking for such a favor? even the cavalry captain wouldn't be able to hold up his front.

the truth is, blood rushes straight to his cock the second you even mention him biting you. he loves it. the way you cling onto him, eyelashes wet with tears, words barely coherent enough for him to understand what you're asking.

"oh, you poor thing. you want it so bad, hm? how are you going to hide this? or do you perhaps want to show it off?"

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

scaramouche.

being a former god, scaramouche obviously thinks quite highly of himself.

he would never subject himself nor his skin to the lowly teeth of you or the animalistic action of biting.

it's so uncivil, you're not an animal.

so, why does he cum every time you bite him? why does he shiver and feel absolute euphoria as you lick the blood away from the raw skin?

why does he find himself grazing his fingers over the marks you left, reliving it in his head and immediately getting hard?

certainly, it's not because he enjoys such a gross action!

once you break him, there is no fixing him as he will become putty in your hands the second you bite him.

"don't you dare- hah, god- please, more."

༺♡༻

do not repost or share !

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capsiicle · 2 years

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Contains: NONCON, AFAB Ajax, there's like one mention of clit and cunt but thats it, top male reader, bottom ajax, mentions of death, implied (forced) cannibalism, implied amputation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, obsessive themes, asphyxiation, dissociation (?im not syre, tagging just incase)

Note: this is a product of me being very horny. I did not proof read this and it's also kinda rushed so if it makes no sense/repeats itself, thats why lmao. anyways, yandere reader >>

A sob escaped Ajax's lips, his thighs shaking as the man hushed him, rubbing his thigh slowly while holding him as close as possible, as tight as possible. The stench of blood lingering in the air made his stomach turn, the taste of it on his tongue and the added feeling of blood being smeared across his thigh, while the man's other hand rubbed his hip, made his body shake more.

"Shh, darlin', you didn't need him anyways." [Name] whispered, slowly moving him up and down with the hand on his hip. His head rested on his shoulder as he watched him, Ajax flinching as his hand moved from his thigh and up his chest, groping his chest. When Ajax made an attempt to elbow him, struggling in an attempt to get away. He heard an annoyed sigh, and before he could apologize, a hand was back on his throat, squeezing it.

"W- wait, 'm sorry, please-" Ajax pleaded, eyes tearing up. His vision started going black, whining and moving his hand to squeeze [Name]'s wrist, whispering barely coherent apologies before the other removed his hand from his already bruised throat, sniffling at the idea of another bruise forming on top of the blue ones he already had.

"Will you be a good boy for me, baby? Or, do I have to take more... Drastic meassures?" The man whispered in his eyes, Ajax's eyes widening as he immediately started shaking his head, sobbing loudly as he apologized like a broken record. [Name] hushed him, slowly thrusting into him, Ajax's toes curling and a sniffle leaving him.

"'m so sorry, please don't hurt him, pleasepleaseplease, I won't misbehave again, just, please leave Luc alone, I promise I'll behave-" Ajax cried out at the nails digging into his thighs, shaking his head.

"N- no, [Name], I'm sorry, please, I won't mention him again, I promise! Please-" The ginger continued sobbing, shaking his head as he was pushed onto his chest, babbling incoherent apologies as [Name] started thrusting quickly into him, a growl sounding in Ajax's ear.

"God fucking damn it, Ajax. You just don't fucking learn, do you? Next thing I know, you'll go out seeing him, as well." [Name] growled as he moved a hand down to his clit, rubbing it as Ajax came with a cry, back arched, eyes rolling back.

"No! No, I promise, I won't! I didn't even mean to see Zhongli, I swear!" Tartaglia whined, thrashing around and trying to struggle out of the ropes around his wrist. [Name] laughed mockingly, grabbing his thigh. He raised it up to his shoulder as he continued fucking his puffy, sensitive cunt, tutting.

"Yeah, sure. I bet you didn't mean for him to end up with his hands up your shirt either, Darlin'. But it's okay now, he's gone." The [HC] male whispered as he stroked his cheek with bloody hands. Ajax gave up trying to escape, letting the man over him use him as he wanted while he withered in pain and pleasure.

"Maybe I should take away your legs? It seems to be the only way to stop you from running, my love." [Name] threatened, moaning at the way Ajax's body tensed underneath him and grabbing both his hips.

Ajax tried to imagine himself back home in the cold weather of Snezhnaya, wrapped up in a blanket and the warm arms of the person he loved. Maybe back in Mondstadt, spending time with his friends. Just, anywhere but there.

"Fuck, 'm gonna cum, sweetheart." The words snapped Ajax out of his thoughts, pleading and sobbing for [Name] to pull it out, telling him he could cum anywhere, just not inside. The unstable man chose to ignore him, his thrusts stuttering as Ajax let out a loud sob, feeling the warmth spreading through his body. The emptiness he felt made his body relax from the relief he felt. He heard rustling of metal before his eyes snapped open and a scream left him, kicking his legs- well, leg.

"Shh, Darlin', it's okay. The pain will be over soon and then,"

"You'll be all mine."

#Robin's works . ♡#top male reader #dom reader #male reader #bottom ajax #sub ajax #bottom tartaglia #sub tartaglia #sub character #cw noncon #cw dissociation #cw asphyxiation #bottom genshin impact #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x dom reader

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mothmanperson · 2 years

Text

||Teamaker, Peacemaker||

??? x gn!reader

tw: spit

cw: enemies to lovers???, rivals to something, tension, spitting on ones tea, spicy but no smut sorry :(

i was drinking tea and listening to two feet so blame those for this.

i made this so you could basically imagine any male harbinger in this but i think childe, scaramouche or dottore fit best.

crossposted on ao3

for both male and gender neutral reader since there are no pronouns used

part two. part three

FEMALE ALIGNED DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

you held back all your anger, your face remaining the same stone cold like it has been before, like it always has been.

the tsaritsa wanted you to mend your 'relationship' with him. the ungrateful little man(bitch) besides you.

you were sure you were both more tense than ever. seething hatred radiated off of your bodies. you could feel it and you were sure everyone else could aswell. even the guards outside were sweating.

this all wouldn't have happened if he just kept his mouth shut.

this rivalry of yours has been going on since the day the two of you had been introduced to each other, you could just feel his bad vibes the exact time he stepped into your line of vision.

the mocking look in his eyes, as if you were beneath him.

unbelievable, when in reality it was the other way around.

but no. day by day he continued to laugh at your face for everything you did.

the way you talked, walked and went about your day.

and archon's forgive you made one oh-so little mistake. he would never let you live it down.

forever.

if smugness and malicious intent were a person it had to be him. him, with his stupid little grin like he had something against you, like he would tear you down and get you on your knees.

no.

that can't happen, it won't.

those times are long over.

when her highness was done explaining your 'punishment', the both of you were escorted to a secluded room. it hasn't been in use for ages but it was still cleaned and a nice fire was burning to compete against the harsh weather of snezhnaya.

while you sat down on the seat which had its back to the fire, he didn't went to sit down at all, rather looking at the small collection of books in the bookshelf.

before the guards left you requested for some of your precious tea, you have just gotten a new delivery yesterday and you were delighted.

you would have tried it yesterday but your 'problem' just had to open his mouth. and then you did something you very much regretted now.

you could hear a 'tsk' form your fellow harbinger, though he still had his back turned.

"do you have a problem with me brewing tea? would you perhaps also like a cup?" you asked as you poured the hot water over the tea. the see-through water turning a warm yellow-orange almost instantly.

"oh no no- i just really don't get how someone could be so obsessed with something as simple as a cup of tea. it seems like a waste of time... i mean leaf water is all it really is, isn't it?" he answered and finally turned, his ever smug face present on his oh-so pretty face.

you really wanted to repeatedly slam it into the frozen ground so nothing was left but a clumpy mush of hair, bone, brain matter and blood.

who knows, with a little sugar it might make a good tea... then again you heard somewhere that human brain causes an incurable disease.

you watched him unimpressed as he sat opposite of you, your hand couldn't help but twitch in slight annoyance.

of course, he noticed.

"hah- you're to easy- as soon as i start talking bad about your 'passion', i press your buttons more and more- come on i know just raging inside. haha you really can't keep your emotions in check. what a bad example for a fatui harbinger" he laughed doen on you, as his eyes sharpened.

says you

he waited for your next move, your next slip up so he could tear you down more, so he might be able to make you able to beg him to stop, to get you down on your knees and beg for him to stop harassing you each and everytime you saw each other.

but not with you.

you closed your eyes and took a breath as you poured your tea, the infused steam of the tea filling your lungs.

it made you relax just slightly. it always has.

to his surprise, you poured a second cup of tea and pushed it to his side of the table.

he took a glance at the steaming cup and then back to you. his before confused face turned sly again, he took his cup to his lips and for a second you really thought he was gonna drink it.

but rather he collected a good amount of spit in his mouth, before disrespecting the golden water by spitting in it.

your grip on your cup tightened and your eyebrow twitched.

he stared at you the whole time he did it. intensely so. you saw something flicker in his eyes you couldn't quite read.

he set his cup back down, and took advantage of your shock as he took your own cup and downed it like it was fire water. another disrespecting move on his side.

(he regretted that since it burned his mouth, throat and stomach. he would have to deal with that later)

with a seemingly innocent grin he pushed his cup to you.

"i'm offering you my tea as a peacemaking contract, drink it and i'm never going to bother you again" he chuckled, he had to hold back his laughter.

so he thinks he has won, huh?

you face turned cold again, and with slow hands you reached for the cup. you could still see the thick bubblly liquid swimming on top of your his (your?) tea.

with stared at him the whole time.

scanning his cute little face twitch and change into confusion, shock then disgust. it was amusing to see.

your lips met his cups rim and you took a sip out of the cup. you both stared each other down, no one wanting to submit, to admit defeat and back off.

with your second sip you finished the small cup and you set it down back on the table.

he felt shivers down his spine when you licked your lips, getting each and every last drop of the hot liquid before you hummed in delight.

"it had quite the taste to it. maybe i should let you spit in my tea more often, or maybe put in something different from your body"

"now then, it is time for me to take my leave, since we're on even ground now we have nothing to talk about anymore no? our request has been fulfilled" and thus you left. and had you been turned around you would have seen the blush covering his face ears and neck.

he didn't want to know what you were implying (he knew)

you now had the same smug and sly grin on your face that he had before. and his vanished without a trace.

you stood up.

"fucking bitch"

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