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wri0thesley · 1 year

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mark of ownership - childe x reader (6.3k)

you and childe have unfinished business.

cw: not sfw. reader is afab, but no gendered pronouns are used. reader is chubby/bigger than average and expresses a very small amount of insecurity about it. both reader and childe are sadomasochist switches but reader is in charge in this particular interaction. restraints, face sitting, riding, blades and marking with blades, bloodplay. pet names including 'sweetheart'. a sequel to this work.

this was a commissioned work.

It is your duty to rail against the Fatui. That is what your organisation expects of you; that you will meet with Fatui soldiers doubting their loyalty in secret, convince them to defect and join your operations, that you will tell them all of the horrible things that the Fatui do and make them see that they are being used as pawns in somebody else’s games. You will bring up the bloodshed, the inhumanity of raising children from the Home of the Hearth to be nothing more than machines for the Tsaritsa’s use, the fact that every occupied seat on the council of the Fatui Harbingers is occupied by someone who cannot be trusted an inch--

Inevitably, that last part of your impassioned conversation brings memories flashing to the forefront of your mind.

You hope that when these Fatui soldiers hear your voice crack, they’re mistaking it as the crack of emotion of someone who is impassioned to their cause. You hope when you speak of the Harbingers, the way that you sometimes stutter over your explanation of the battle-crazed eleventh is misread as disgust and not some kind of longing.

But late nights in safehouses with your hands between your legs, you have to admit that is not the case at all.

You are practically haunted by the reminder of what transpired between you and Childe - although this is a haunting in only the most pleasurable way. You are constantly thinking and daydreaming of the way his breath hitched when he kissed you like he was fighting you, the strange refraction of light in his empty eyes when you’d used your mouth on him and his pretty boyish face hadn’t held back an ounce of the pleasure you were bringing to him. The way the air had crackled with electricity between you both as you’d bit and bled and played a strange game of ‘fighting or fucking�� . . .

Oh, the emotion that licks at your voice when you talk about Childe is certainly not disgust.

You hate yourself, sometimes, for how much you want to see him again. The lingering memory of your last promise to him - that next time your paths crossed, he would be the one at your mercy - hangs in the air, waiting for you to make good on it. You daydream about it when you should be thinking about other things; imagine scratching your nails down his cheekbone, biting the soft flesh of his neck until he groaned, running a blade slowly slowly across his chest--

Giving him a little scar, to twin the faded one on your thigh that reads “A” for “Ajax”. A mark of belonging, perhaps - you think that Childe deserves to have something you carved into his skin somewhere on him, too.

For the sake of fairness, naturally.

Despite what you might want and fantasise about, though, you are actually rather devoted to the organisation that you work for - you want to help in their work, and you wouldn’t be much help at the mercy of a Fatui Harbinger that you might not escape from quite as unscathed the second time you met him. You also value the work you do over your own pleasure and sex drive - mostly - and so you push those thoughts to the side and you get on with things. Your own base of operations is closest to Liyue, because of all of the Fatui delegates who get sent to work in the Northland Bank . . . and recently, the tide has rather turned against them. Liyue citizens remember that the Fatui were an integral part of them almost losing their lovely city - and so, Fatui members have begun to wonder if they’re really on the right side after all.

You still keep your head down and your alibi - a shop assistant, nothing more, of course there aren’t codebreaking tools in your pocket and a dagger, sheathed on your thigh beneath your clothes - but you don’t worry quite as much as you once did, because you don’t need to.

Life, though, has a way of giving a person what they want in the strangest of ways.

For you, that strange way manifests in the middle of Liyue Harbour on a hot summer’s day, as you stand and chat to Granny Shan about some new plush that she’s selling for a craftsman in one of the little valleys - a cutesy replica of Rex Lapis’s Exuvia, with paws curled beneath its chin and huge sparkling eyes. As you’re talking about it, a gloved hand reaches over to pick one up.

“Oh!” says a familiar voice, bright and boyish, “My little brother would love this.”

You turn, and there he is. Granny Shen stiffens a little, but Childe doesn’t seem to notice at all - he’s far too busy tipping the plush this way and that way, looking at the little paws and claws and the tail with the wire inside of it so that the child can pose it in all different ways. He’s smiling down at it, and your heart bangs against your ribcage at the sight of him. Your insides clench at the sight of his leather-gloved fingers, at the long limbs. You remember how it felt to have those fingers run over you; to have them pry your mouth open so he could kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.

Your cheeks are hot. Childe rustles in his pocket for Mora, still clutching the Exuvia plush. You wonder if you should slip away whilst you can, but your feet are rooted to the spot you’re already in, Childe’s magnetism (and the reminder of all of your fantasies) making it impossible for you to resist.

Whilst he is passing Mora over to Granny Shen - who you’re certain is overcharging him - he turns his head, and then . . . he finally sees you.

It takes a minute for him to remember where he knows you from - you see it in the way his eyes flash and his mouth curls quizzically - but then, the memories come back to him too. His cheeks flush pink beneath the freckles and he smiles, wide and bright and more than a little hungry.

“It’s you!” He says. “Hmm . . . if I remember correctly . . . this is not supposed to be the way we meet again.”

He tucks his plush under elbow, and forcibly takes your arm with the other - his fingers strong like iron as he steers you away. You let it happen, still so surprised to see him that you don’t have it in you to spit out anything clever or witty.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” he says, a grin still on his face, frenetic energy buzzing beneath his skin. “Let’s go find somewhere a little more private!” He leans in closer to you, ostensibly to whisper into your ear in front of the very proper citizens of Liyue. His breath is hot; his teeth nip at your earlobe as he lowly intones, anticipation dripping from every syllable; “I’ve been thinking about what you said you’d do to me next time for months.”

---

Childe brings you back to the little room that he’s currently renting in an inn; the proprietor looks at you and then hides a smile behind his hand - it’s clear to him the reason you’re there. Childe doesn’t make much of a show of hiding it either; excitement seems to come off of him in great waves as he moves, anticipation making his nerves fizz and his smile sharper and brighter than ever before. Your own stomach is jumping as though frogs have made their home there. You’re looking forward to this, too.

The room itself is fairly plain; good quality, but plain. Childe’s Fatui salary is obviously more than adequate, but you suppose he doesn’t seem the kind of man who puts much stock in velvet curtains and silken sheets. And, too, you suppose that with the current climate with regards to the Fatui in Liyue, he prefers something a little more restrained anyway. This has all of the hallmarks of an inn that won’t ask too many questions.

That’s better for you too. You take stock of the furnishings; the bed, a desk, a single chair. Childe’s bags, all on one side of the room, some spare clothes strewn over a dresser--

“Well, my Lord Harbinger,” you say to him, when you’ve finished your inspection. “I’ll assume you didn’t bring me here to kill me. That would be dreadfully inconvenient for the poor inn owner.”

He laughs, that wild, free laugh that makes you feel like someone is kissing down your spine.

“I missed your mouth,” he says to you, brightly. “You’ve got just as much of a spark as you did before, then?” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “That’s good. I’d hate for you to disappoint me.”

“What about you disappointing me?” You shoot back at him. Childe grins at you, and reaches behind his back.

You tense, expecting him to draw out a weapon. You really didn’t think he’d make a scene in his own rooms, but it appears Childe doesn’t really think about such things when the excitement of battle is on the table. Your hand is halfway to your dagger when he produces what he was reaching for - and the sight of the coiled rope in his hands makes you pause.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “It really wasn’t very honourable of me to knock you out and tie you to a chair before you could defend yourself, right? Put you at a disadvantage before we even got to have any fun! Not very gentlemanly of me, and definitely not all that fair a fight because of it. So . . .”

It takes you a moment to catch up. He seems to have pulled the rope from his pocket rather than from anywhere else, and your mouth speaks before your mind.

“Do you always carry rope with you?”

His eyes glitter wickedly and strangely.

“Of course I do,” he says, assuredly. “For fun and for . . . other reasons.”

Right. The murder and the other uncomfortable parts of being a pawn of the Tsaritsa’s militaria. You shove those thoughts to the side of your brain; if you think too much about such logic like who Childe really is, it will taint the fun experience you’re hoping to have with him. The pounding between your thighs is far louder than the voice of reason in your head (a voice that is, actually, getting quieter and quieter the longer you stand in the same room as him).

“And you’re going to put yourself at my mercy this time?” You ask him, scarcely believing it. You’d said plenty of things about it not being a fair fight last time the two of you had met, but you’d never expected Childe to actually try and rectify the situation. The rope he’s holding is thick; it looks plenty good quality. More than suitable for tying a man to a chair.

“Mmhmm!” He wiggles the rope at you lasciviously. “Come and get it. I’ll let you get me tied up nice and tight and at your mercy . . .” His voice drops a semitone. “And then we’ll have another round of our little game.”

Or more than suitable for tying a man to a bed.

It’s a good bed for such things, too. The bedposts are sturdy solid wood, protruding high enough from the frame that Childe probably wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of his bonds upwards. You step sweetly towards him and grab the rope.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed for me, then?” You ask him.

He does seem a touch surprised - but that surprise very quickly fades once more into hunger. He eyes the bed for only a moment - clearly mapping out the escape routes so he can turn the tables on you - before he saunters towards it and lets his body hit the coverlets with a soft whoomph.

“So forward!” He says. “You haven’t even bought me dinner, sweetheart.”

“Spread-eagled,” you order him - and to your immense surprise, he takes a juddering breath, and then quickly obeys.

“I hope you know,” he says conversationally, as you walk over to the bed too and clamber atop of him. His cock is already tenting the tight pants he wears as you straddle him, nudging against your own clothed sex when you lean over to tie your knots around his first wrist. “This is the most obedient I’m going to be. Once I’m secured . . . ooh, then it’s whoever’s stronger’s game.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to him sweetly, and you tighten the knots around that wrist hard enough to make him groan aloud.

His groan is partly pain, but it’s edged in anticipatory pleasure too. Your body throbs in excitement. This . . . this is exactly what you’ve needed. You’re about to have some of the most fun you’ve had in your life.

His other wrist, and then slowly, carefully, his ankles. You want him to feel as at your mercy as you’d felt at his, when you’d come back around and found your legs and arms bound to a chair in the middle of nowhere. There’s something to be said, too, by the way his breath hitches when you tighten the knots and check them to make sure that there's absolutely no give in them. Childe watches you through every single one of your checks, eyes dark with desire.

“Now I’ve got you all trussed up,” you say to him, with a sharp smile of your very own - he looks so very good like that, laid out beneath you at your mercy. “Are you going to try and get out of it? You’re welcome to struggle. I’m very confident in my knots.”

“They’re good knots,” Childe rasps, and with that he begins to struggle in his bonds. He’s growling as he does it, all animal - used to his raw strength, honed in battle, being enough to get him out of things like this. He didn’t reckon on you. You stay astride him, your hands neatly curled upon his chest, as he struggles and twists and turns beneath you. His hard groin keeps rubbing pleasantly against the hot space between your thighs, sending frissons of electricity up your spine. Childe’s cheeks flush wildly. “Fuck!”

“Aww, baby,” you simper down at him, and Childe breathes in hard through gritted teeth. “Stronger than you thought they’d be?”

“J-just give me a couple of seconds,” he growls, his canines shining. You think idly about when he’d kissed you; the way he’d tugged at your mouth with his teeth, explored every crevice with his tongue like a conqueror during an invasion. You’ll kiss Childe later, you think.

You’re very satisfied with the knots. You don’t think he’ll be getting out of them any time soon; you feel confident enough, in fact, that you allow yourself to dismount him and stand next to the bed. Childe’s eyes follow you even as he continues to attempt to thrash.

“Hey,” he says. “Wh-where are you going? We’ve barely gotten started!”

You give him a sweet smile.

“I’m just starting to feel a little . . .” You rub at your own wrists, sighing. “Constricted. I thought I’d get a little more comfortable.”

Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt - Childe’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes going wide. He doesn’t cease his movements, but you’ve captured his attention. You’ve been a little insecure, before, about the curves of your body and the places you pudge out a little more than you’d like to . . . but under Childe’s gaze, you feel transformed. Like a statue of an archon, as you slowly strip your clothing to reveal your flesh and Childe keeps staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen and like he wants to devour you all at once.

Every garment you’re wearing joins the pile on the floor - at the sight of your dagger, strapped to your thigh, Childe has to pause to get his bearings back. A soft whine of desire escapes his mouth, and that noise makes you feel yourself clench around the nothingness inside of you.

“Let’s make things fair, shall we?” You ask him, with a smile on your face as you unsheathe the blade. Childe takes a deep shuddering breath as you approach him - as you get back on the bed, and tip his chin up with the flat of your weapon. “Let’s get your clothes off, now.”

“Please do,” he rasps in return - and he even helpfully arches his back (as much as he can) so that you have better access to the shirt he’s wearing. The fabrics are fine - the Fatui don’t seem to skimp on this kind of thing - but Childe does not seem to care about that as you slit said fabric open and reveal his body to you.

His pale torso is littered with scars and freckles. You take a moment to admire them before you switch to his trousers - pressing the sharp tip just a little too close to his crotch than you think he’d like. Childe, once again, surprises you - at the touch of danger, he growls, and you swear you feel his cock jump against his underwear.

You leave the underwear on for now. There’s already a sizable bulge pressing against the placket, a wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking and drooling precome onto the material. It’s almost cute.

You’d expected Childe to be running his mouth by now - you’d had some vague thoughts in the back of your mind about gagging him with your underwear, all wet with your own slick (and had indeed left said underwear in an easy to get to place) - but he’s surprisingly quiet, only grunting and groaning and rasping. You’re really getting to him, and the thought gives you a power rush that leaves you heady, intoxicated.

“You’re quiet,” you coo at him, running your fingers from his scarred, muscular shoulders and down to his chest - brushing your thumbs over his nipples and watching how he shudders. “Are you all out of clever things to say, my Lord Harbinger?”

“N-no,” Childe insists, his voice shaking. “I’m just . . . enjoying knowing I’m going to wipe that smug look off of your pretty face.”

“Aww!” You lean over him, your lips ghosting across his cheeks and hovering above his own mouth. He’s panting - he makes an effort to pull you into a biting kiss, but the ropes you tied earlier do a fine job keeping him constrained. “That’s cute. Keep talking for me.”

“I-- I’m going to show you . . . why I win all of my battles,” Childe says, trying to overlay bravado over the shuddering want in his voice. “Have you at my mercy--!”

“You’re trying,” you tell him, and you pinch his cheek. “But I think there’s something better you can do with your mouth. Don’t you?”

He pauses - and then, his eyes take on a gleam that makes your toes curl. It’s enthusiasm in its very purest form - a wild excitement as he rasps out;

“Oh, I’ll show you just how good I can be with my tongue.”

In the past, you’ve been a little nervous when it comes to this particular act with partners; aware that you’re probably not the lightest load to bear. You have no such qualms with Childe, knowing how he boasts of his strength and his skills and how he has the title of ‘eleventh Harbinger’ to back it up. You feel especially soothed by just how excited he is at the very idea.

“What a good boy,” you say to him - and you’re surprised to feel his cock twitch again, as you move yourself up his body until your thighs pillow either side of his cheeks. You reach for the headboard to keep yourself steady, and to make sure you can angle yourself off of his face a little if you need to let him breathe. You feel a bead of your own slick roll down your thigh; your heart beats wildly in your chest, your own desire making you feel dizzy with the power of it. “I’m so excited for you to prove it.”

You lower yourself down onto his face.

To be honest with yourself, you’re expecting Childe to be hesitant about it - after all, sitting on the face of a tied up man is not something you have much experience with, and you’re not sure that Childe has any experience with having it happen to him either - but you should have known from the way he’d kissed you way back then (all tongue and teeth and needy inexperience) that Childe does absolutely nothing by halves. The moment your sex is anywhere near his face, Childe is rearing up in his bonds, desperate to taste you as thoroughly as he tasted your mouth during his kisses.

It takes you a moment to regain your composure, his mouth hungrily licking through your folds with the intensity of someone who has been starved for some time. You’re grateful that he can’t see the way your mouth falls open or the way your eyelids flutter, the way that your fists tense on the bed frame where you grip it tight enough for it to splinter into pieces.

He has far more important things to focus on right now.

Like the taste of your slick as you feel it drip down his face, wetting his cheeks. He groans into you, the vibrations sending pleasure zapping up your spine. You grind into him a little, careful not to put too much weight on his face - but from the noise that Childe makes from that, you think he wouldn’t mind if he suffocated to death right there. It’s hard not to just let wild abandon take you; grind on him as desperately as he’s using his mouth. Ride his face to your completion, with any consequences being damned.

You don’t think you’ll even last that long, though - so instead, you move one of your hands from the headboard to take a handful of his red hair, tugging him so that his attentions focus more on your clit than on simply trying to devour you whole. You win another groaning growling noise of pure enjoyment at your rough pull - you know, of course, that he likes having someone present a challenge to him, but the noises never fail to be gratifying.

And he even takes the direction well!

As soon as he realises why you’re tugging on him in a particular direction, he turns his attention to your clit with only a muffled noise of pleasure; swirling his tongue around the swollen bud with artless but enthusiastic efficiency. You - having had this ache in your core since the very moment you laid eyes on him, an ache that has only been intensified as he laid out his plans for the evening - do not take long.

Pleasure swells inside of you, battering against the bars of a cage that Childe is slowly unlocking with his tongue. You feel sweat roll down your brow; your hips begin to shift against him more intently, blind in the pursuit of your orgasm to anything else. Childe’s tongue is sloppy against you; desperately working you over and over, swirling and lapping and sucking. His face must be soaked, you think, not only from your slick but from the messy way his own mouth works against your skin--

And that’s the last thought you have, because your release flashes white hot behind your sinuses and you whimper out his name - the name he’d given you last time, like he was imparting a secret.

“A-Ajax--!” And you’re coming, coming, a hot ball of fire exploding inside of you and making your toes curl and your fingers shake. Your eyes squeeze shut, a single tear escaping from the intensity of the situation. You let the waves wash over you, pleasure envelop you . . . and then, gathering your bearings back, you manage to shift off of him with shaking legs until you’re once more straddling his waist and making a wet shining mess of his abdomen.

As you suspected, his face is all shiny with stands of your own arousal, his cheeks flushed, his eyes so bright they’re like lamps. His gaze rakes over you hungrily. And then, they land quite squarely on your thigh, and the skin where he carved his initial into you.

“You look good with my name on you,” he rasps.

Your own dagger is still strapped to your thigh. It’s on the outside, so Childe didn’t reach the point of it whilst your thighs were pressing either side of his face - but the reminder of what he left on you last time gives you an idea.

You unsheathe it, twirling the blade in the light.

“You’ll want to remember this too, right?” You ask him, giving him your sweetest smile. You dance your fingers over his toned chest; the smattering of freckles, the old scars. You give one of his nipples a tug, which wins a groan from him and a slight arch of the back - not that you are seated close enough to his cock to provide any real friction there. “I should leave a mark on you too.”

Slowly, deliberately, you slide further down so that you are instead straddling his hips. Wiggling yourself just so, until the lips of your sex part - and the hard stiff length of him is captured between them, with too much fabric in the way for him to do anything but part his lips and pant, teased almost to his breaking point.

“Not an initial,” you say to him. “That’s just tawdry, don’t you think?” You bring the blade down over his left breast; slice into it just enough that crimson blood wells up. You wet your lips looking at it - somehow, the sight of the cut on him and the knowledge that you’re the one responsible for it make you feel all the more powerful and all the more turned on despite your recent orgasm. Your breath catches in your throat.

You make enough slices to make a rudimentary, jagged heart. You, unlike certain Fatui members, do not have all that much experience carving names and initials and other such things into people’s skin. Through it all - through every cut, every careful repositioning of your knife, Childe whines and whimpers and his cock jumps and pulses against your spread cunt.

You lean back to admire your handiwork. Childe looks up at you, breathless, panting, flushed . . . and so handsome that you want to cry, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I want,” Childe growls out, guttural and breathless at once. “Your. Your mark. Please.”

The feeling intensifies; a troubling emotion that gnaws at your senses and spells danger. Your eyes dart to the ‘A’ carved into your thigh.

“You’re mine,” he insists, whining. “I want to be y-yours. Tell me. Do it. Please!”

Oh, no. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t let that look on his face tug at your heartstrings and bury itself deep in your bones.

He would look nice, marked as yours.

Your hand moves before your brain, urged on by your heart instead - and before you know it, you’re once more carving into the skin of the Fatui member before you. Slowly, inside of the heart you’ve already made on him, you trace the lines of your own initial - going just a little deeper than before.

His eyes close in ecstasy.

“Tell me,” he asks again, sounding like he needs it.

You realise you’ve started unconsciously grinding against his cock as you mark him, and any thoughts you might have had about how weird and fucked up Childe’s tastes are fall to the wayside. You two are kindred spirits. You feel exactly like that too.

“You’re mine,” you tell him - and to prove your point, you lean over him and kiss the heart-and-initial cuts on his chest, smearing his blood on your lips.

Childe lets out a strangled groan, a whimper, and his cock jumps against where you have it trapped between your thighs with the barrier of the fabric between you - and you feel a spreading hot wetness.

Your face goes hot all over. Your body thrums in need again, as if you haven’t been allowed to reach your peak once today already.

You made him come in his own underwear.

For one moment, you think about leaving him there. The humiliation of being bound to a bed, bleeding, his come spattered against his own skin. Your calling card etched into his chest. You could rifle through his luggage; look for files, take them back to your organisation and be patted on the head and told how well you’d done (as you pointedly avoided telling them exactly how you got your hands on the information).

But oh, he’s lovely. And he’s staring up at you like he hung the moon. There’s that feeling again, stirring in the pit of your chest - a feeling you don’t want to give a real name to, but you know what it is nonetheless. Childe is clearly encountering that same emotion.

You lift yourself off him just enough that you can take the knife - still shining with his blood - and cut down the seam by his hip and thigh, to peel off the last garment. His cock is spent, laying against his stomach, ropes of pearly come splattered over his freckled skin . . . but as you look at it, it slowly stirs back to life. Childe is a young man, after all - and a young man fuelled by adrenaline and want, and his refractory period is clearly not that long.

You give him a hand. A few strokes, far gentler than you’ve been before; coaxing him back to hardness. It does not take all that much effort. Some gentle pets with blood stained fingers (you got his blood on your hands, somehow - Childe does not complain about the mess you’re making of him), a few strokes of your thumb over his slit, tracing of the pulsing veins of his shaft . . . and through it all, Childe is panting, staring at you, an unspoken emotion passing between the two of you.

He’s hard again.

You’re a little slower and a little gentler this time, as you position yourself over him; as you carefully readjust your hips until you can feel the head of him pressing against your entrance.

“I’m going to use you like a toy,” you tell him, your voice cracking just a little. “Try and struggle free i-if you can.”

“Be my guest,” he says, in that same excited rasp, though there’s a breathless quality that wasn’t there before. Something fragile in the air between you both. “I’ll give you exactly as good as I get.”

You lower yourself onto him for the second time that evening, but this time you welcome him inside of you. He’s big enough to stretch you out, but familiar - how many times have you replayed that safehouse-tied-to-a-chair memory like a fantasy, remembering how he’d felt inside of you? Cherishing it as you worked yourself into a frenzy?

Reality far outshines your fantasies. You’ve found, in the past, this generally isn’t so - but oh, does Childe make good on the promises of the daydreams you’d had about his cock. Childe feels good inside of you, bigger and thicker and better than you could have imagined. You let out a hiss through gritted teeth as he bottoms out, and you take him inside of you in his entirety.

Childe lets out a groan of your name and arches his back as much as he can, trying to encourage you with the tilt of his hips to ride him with abandon. His earlier sensitivity from coming has already been forgotten. He wants you to make good on your promise of treating him like he’s nothing more than a toy to be ridden and used.

And, honestly?

Who are you to deny a Fatui Harbinger what they want?

There is no easing into a rhythm. Childe has made clear what he wants, and you are more than willing to go along with it - already, the orgasm that he’d wrung from you with his tongue feels like a distant memory that occurred months ago, not minutes. You let your hips do the talking instead.

You let yourself pull off of him until only the very head of his cock is inside of you, and work yourself back down onto him in one swift bounce. Childe’s head is thrown back, showing you the sensitive and vulnerable parts of his throat.

“Harder,” he manages to get out.

You quite agree.

This time, you lean forward. You let your lips clash against his - and once more you’re kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. His blood smears on both of your mouths; and with your tongue, you work it inside of his too. It’s tongue and teeth and raw need, a kiss that carries on even as you establish the bruising rhythm of your thrusts and the slapping noises of flesh on flesh fill the air.

The landlord of the inn will certainly not be happy with the noises the two of you are making (or the blood that will end up all over the sheets, the mess of you and Childe fulfilling your desires), but you cannot bring yourself to care about all of that. The only thing that exists for you in that shining moment is the places where you and Childe are joined.

Your mouths. Your teeth tugging at his lower lip, his tongue learning the shape of your mouth once more. His tongue tracing your canines and incisors, his teeth getting to know your tongue. It might not seem like it would be pleasant . . . but every new movement he makes sends shockwaves ricocheting through you, makes your channel constrict and clench around his cock inside of you.

Your hands; sliding up and down his chest, getting to know the beat of his heart and the shape of every scar. Messing in the blood that you left when you carved your ownership into his skin. Childe occasionally hisses out when your nails scratch the fresh marks, but when you go to pull away and use the pillow or mattress as leverage instead of his body, he makes a whine of disappointment.

“It’s a good hurt,” he tells you, in between slick kisses and pants. “Hurt me more. I’ll return the favour, I promise.”

So you carry on letting your hands stroke his torso as the final joining place of the two of you - cock in sex, him inside of you, your bodies entwined as one - continues to help you both barrel towards another orgasm. It’s hard to gauge how much time passes as you ride Childe like you promised. All there is for you is him, and you, and your breaths and your blood and your hands and the bed--

Your orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut, sharper and brighter and deeper than you’ve ever come before. You practically wail against his mouth as fireworks seem to go off inside of your head, your ears ringing with the force of it - and Childe joins you in the groaning, the vocalisation of pleasure, as it turns out that the squeezing and pulsating of your cunt as you come is enough to push him off the precipice of his own release.

Hot ropes of him inside of you; a mark in its own right. The gush of you coming, soaking his pelvis - another mark. You have an intense urge, suddenly, to be able to put yourself inside of him. To be able to fuck him in the way he can fuck you; to get his body to learn the shape of yours.

You’ve heard about Fontaine inventions that will allow you to do just that, actually - allow yourself a brief moment of imagining bending him over and fucking him, instead.

Next time, next time, next time.

You’re breathless as you dismount. Your legs shake, come rolling down your thighs, as you work your clothes back on. You forgo some of the more complicated garments - why does fashion require you to have so many buckles anyway? - but you manage to pull yourself into some semblance of decency nonetheless. Through it all, Childe lies there panting on the bed, not even asking you to untie him.

Your gaze flits over him.

Now’s your chance.

Childe is too out of it to notice for a few moments, but as you pull a couple of documents from his luggage - official looking, a Fatui wax insignia keeping them closed, jackpot - he stirs himself enough to mumble;

“What are you-- hey!”

“Thanks,” you tell him, as you take a few of them. “These will be really helpful.”

“Untie me and give me a fair fight--!” His voice isn’t as enraged as you’d expected it to be. There’s a note of fondness in there that makes your cheeks heat up despite yourself. Oh, he looks wrecked the way you’ve left him - blood on his chest, come all over his stomach, your pleasure still all over his face. It’s the kind of image you’ll come back to, in the nights without him.

“I’m so looking forward to seeing you next time,” you tell Childe, wiggling your fingers - still wet, still messy, still stained with his blood - at him. As you leave, you also tuck the Exuvia plush he bought for his brother beneath your arm.

. . . You’re certain there will be a next time, from the twinge in your heart and the moments that have passed between you both - but it never hurts having an extra incentive.

You blow a kiss as the door slams shut behind you, and try to ignore that you wish that the kiss was pressed to his forehead as the two of you cuddle in bed.

#commissioned work #childe x reader #childe smut #dom reader #not sfw text #writing #genshin impact smut #blood cw #blades cw #marking cw #genshin impact posting

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blackcur-rants · 4 months

Text

Asahiko and the Three Voyagers

Once long ago in the distant land of Aomori, there was a prince named Tsuyomo Takeru. He was the son of the great Empress Tsuyomo Natsuko and her consort Lord-Prince Kujo Hachiro, and he was the handsomest and most noble lad in all the realms of the Chrysanthemum Ocean. All the princes and princesses and other royal heirs of these distant lands wanted to win his hand, but he kept to himself because he was waiting for his one true love to come along into his life, and none of the princes of Wancheng or Songnhieu or Pangaam or Sadhuvarta appealed to him in his heart. For he was looking for someone fairer still, more beautiful in soul than in body.

And so it was that Prince Takeru remained single and celibate until his seventeenth year, when he was riding along the roads of his future lands and saw a rather ugly man bathing naked in a river stream. The man was burly and large and covered in more scars than one would expect for a man of two-and-twenty. And initially, there was great mistrust between Prince Tsuyomo Takeru and the mysterious Samurai, the heart of the Crown Prince was changed immensely when the mysterious warrior slew six Tengu in a single battle to defend the little village of Kinoshita from the Tengu’s depredations. It was after this battle that the Ronin introduced himself as Kajiya Hiyoshi, and explained how he had been a Ronin ever since a group of Oni had killed his family when he was seven years old. Takeru and Hiyoshi fell in love very swiftly after that, and they returned unto Nijo, capital city of Aomori, and they were married four years later when Takeru was one-and-twenty and Hiyoshi was six-and-twenty. And two years later, cancer of the stomach took Empress Natsuko away from the mortal world, and Takeru was now Emperor of the realm of Aomori.

And yet, despite the love that they had for each other, Emperor Takeru and his husband Prince Hiyoshi were unable to conceive a child to succeed them upon the Lotus Throne. For many years, the two royal husbands tried desperately to have a child using every method that they knew from alchemy to sorcery and even unto consultations with the Great Divinities. Yet nothing worked for fourteen whole years until Prince Hiyoshi found a pair of mystical Azure Lotuses growing in the snows around Mount Sagarmatha and decided to bring both of them back to Nijo. The Emperor and his husband each ate one of the roses and became struck with love for each other as they gazed upon each other as if seeing each other for the first time ever. Without much hesitation, Takeru and Hiyoshi went into their Chrysanthemum Bedroom and stripped off every last inch of clothing till they were clad only in those clothes in which they were born. And then, with full passion emboldened by the power of the Azure Lotuses, the Emperor and the Shogun made love unto each other with the utmost vigour. And the Emperor’s womb was soon found to have grown, to put it moderately and mildly, very thick with child. And nine months later, a child was born who was neither male nor female, but rather possessed of both male and female organs and capable of becoming whatever gender they wanted to be. And because the child was born at the first light of dawn and filled his fathers’ lives with sunshine and love, they were named Asahiko, which is a strange name that combines the Aomori word for “Morning Sun” with the Aomori word for “Child”.

And once their child and heir was born, all of both high and low estate were summoned to give gifts and honours to the newborn heir to the throne of Aomori. In particular, there were six powerful witches who were invited to give gifts unto the child. The first Witch gave the gift of wisdom, the second Witch gave the gift of beauty, the third Witch gave the gift of strength, the fourth Witch gave the gift of leadership, and the fifth Witch gave the gift of song. However, just as the sixth and final Witch was about to give the gift of Magic, there was a storm in the courtyard and a swarm of spiders emerged from the walls of the palace and formed themselves into the Dread Queen Zarena, the Dark Sovereign of the Dreamless Realm. Zarena had discovered that the ancient contract whereby a child of House Tsuyomo would marry her son Prince Veratum was not to be honoured by Emperor Tsuyomo Takeru or by his husband Shogun Kajiya Hiyoshi. And as punishment, Zarena called down a curse upon Asahiko wherein the child would die of an enchanted snake bite to her left heel before the stroke of midnight at the end of their eighteenth birthday. The horrified Royal Guardians tried to bind Zarena and slay her with their mighty swords, but she struck them down, killing fifteen of the Royal Guardians and critically wounding another ten of them. However, the Sixth Witch offered a way out of Zarena’s curse by explaining how True Love could break open the walls of any curse and destroy even the Power of Death Herself.

However, Emperor Takeru and Shogun Hiyoshi were not taking any chances, and a campaign of war and violence was waged against all wild snakes who might threaten Asahiko’s life (However, this was somewhat foiled because many of Aomori’s denizens adopted non-venomous snakes as their own pets and cared for them as if they were dogs or birds or cats or rabbits). Furthermore, Asahiko themself was sent to live out in the woods in the company of an old carpenter named Takeshi and his two daughters Asuka and Kaede.

Many sad and lonely years passed by for the Emperor, the Shogun, and their people, with their only comfort being rumours of Zarena’s continued wrath and frustration. And meanwhile, Asahiko grew into a happy and cheerful but also very wise and considerate child who loved all the living creatures made by the gods and had a particular affinity for foxes. Asahiko would often go for long walks in the woods around her village (much to her adoptive father Takeshi’s intense consternation and disgust). And one day when she was hunting with her sisters in the woods, Asahiko struck down a deer with his bow and then he and Asuka and Kaede brought it home to their shared father’s cottage. However, little did they know that they were being watched by none other than Prince Veratum son of Zarena, who had been ordered by his mother Queen Zarena and his father Prince Tamuzuud to kill Asahiko once and for all so that the curse could be fulfilled. However, Prince Veratum saw no point in pursuing this ancient and ridiculous feud, and so he deliberately mistimed all three of his arrows and sent them flying off into the ethereal blue sky above the forest. Unfortunately for him, Zarena and Tamuzuud found out about what they saw as their son’s “treason” and they struck him down with furious fire, reducing him into ash and cinders with a stroke of Zarena’s right hand. And then, with that having been done, Zarena transformed her husband into a vermillion cobra and sent him to attack Asahiko in her home, ordering him to bring them down before the stroke of midnight at the end of Asahiko’s eighteenth birthday.

And so it was that Tamuzuud the Serpent stalked Asahiko and Asuka and Kaede on their way back to their cottage. And then he lunged upon them at the start of the day’s last hour. At the third minute of the last hour, he killed Takeshi the Carpenter and Himiko the Fisherwoman with a single bite on Himiko’s left hand and Takeshi’s right hand. Then at the halfway point between the fifth and the sixth minute, he bit Asahiko upon the throat. In a state of horror and disgust, Asuka set the wicked serpent on fire while Kaede pumped him full of one-and-twenty arrows, killing Tamuzuud at last. Unfortunately, Asahiko seemed as if she was dead.

Asuka and Kaede rushed their beloved sibling to the city of Nijo in search of a healer, only to be intercepted by Emperor Takeru and Prince Hiyoshi on the way. The grieving rulers of the land recognised their daughter and finally explained the truth unto the sisters. Asahiko’s wounded body was placed to rest in a secret bedroom where none could find or disturb it, and though the councillors of the realm begged the Emperor and his husband the Shogun not to waste much time on their daughter’s life, Takeru and Hiyoshi called upon the Sixth Witch to cast a spell upon them and their entire court so that they would sleep in exalted beauty and wonder for as long as it took for their child to awaken at last. Before that, however, Emperor Takeru trusted his sword and mirror and necklace of sacred beads to the Minister of the Treasury, the High Treasurer Hanayama Miyako, crowning her as the new Empress of Aomori. And as the Spell of Deepest Sleep was cast over all of Nijo, Empress Miyako and her court travelled on their horses and in their carriages to the city of Hirano, now the seat of government and power in the Realm of Aomori.

One-hundred-and-thirty-five years then passed as the Hanayama Clan continued to rule over the lands once ruled by Clan Tsuyomo. And in that time, the land still flourished and entered into a golden age of art and commerce, particularly with Samtang and Songnhieu and Wancheng. Hanayama Miyako was ruler of the land for eight-and-fifty years before she passed on to the Next World and left the throne to her eldest daughter Hanayama Masako. And Hanayama Masako was Empress of the land for six-and-twenty years and three months and fourteen days before she passed on and left the throne to her eldest scion Tsuneyo. And Hanayama Tsuneyo was sovereign of Aomori for twelve years and six months and sixteen days before they themself died of weariness and premature aging because of cancer of the heart and passed their throne unto their eldest scion Hanayama Daisuke, who ruled over the lands of Aomori for sixteen years and five months and seventeen days. And the last of the Hanayama lineage to reign as sovereign over the realm of Aomori was Daisuke’s eldest son Emperor Hanayama Yasuhiro, who reigned over these lands for twenty-three years and seven months and twelve days.

And in this age of the Hanayama Dynasty, the Old City of Nijo became a site of great pilgrimage and holy reverence for the people of all the lands around the Chrysanthemum Ocean. From Samtang to Oiliath, many princes came to try their hands at waking the beautiful scion of the Tsuyomo lineage. However, none of them could pull it off, for the curse remained strong and powerful over the beautiful Asahiko. And so the curse remained strong, and Asuka and Kaede became more and more desperate to awake their fallen sibling, turning to ancient books of lore and occult mystery in an attempt to wake the Prince/Princess. It was only in the 135th Year of the Hanayama Monarchy that Kaede of the Spear discovered the truth of how to find a wise Jinn named Shamhurasha who could give them the solution to destroying the curse that held their beloved realm and sibling hostage. And so with her sister Asuka of the Sword and Kazuhiko of the Bow (only scion and heir to Emperor Hanayama Yasuhiro), Kaede of the Spear set off for Hirano and crossed the ship in a boat that took them to Samtang.

Then did the Three Voyagers cross many lands and nations until they found the castle of Shamhurasha and her wife the Sixth Witch in the wild and mountainous lands of what is now Solvatia. And it was here that the Sixth Witch revealed unto the Three Voyagers that only The Truest Love of All could defeat the Power of Zarena’s Curse. Disappointed and left uncertain because of the Sixth Witch’s words, the Three Voyagers passed through Jylqyzan and Wancheng until they departed from Pan Yu and returned to Nijo.

However, midway through their voyage home, the Three Voyagers were attacked by a Leviathan sent by the wicked Shemala Olomunkatil to punish the Voyagers for interfering with the schemes of her lifelong ally Zarena. For a long while, Kazuhiko and Kaede saw no reason to fight onwards against the Leviathan now that their quest to save Asahiko and the rest of Clan Tsuyomo had seemingly failed, but Asuka of the Sword refused to give up or give in to the darkness surrounding her, and so she lured the Leviathan up to the mast of the great ship on which they had stowed away and leapt from the top of the mast and sliced her way down the Leviathan’s neck, killing it swiftly and spreading its blood all throughout the sea. Unfortunately, the ship itself was sent crashing to the shores of Hongdao and there was no way to get back on the open ocean. So Prince Kazuhiko went to a tavern in the city of Anping and asked for a vehicle of transportation to take them home to Aomori. The old fisherman Jin Huan told them of a Phoenix who lived up on the Mountain Called Honghui. Her name was Ehuang and she could fly around the whole entire world in forty-five minutes. And so on the Fisherman’s suggestion, the Three Voyagers all ascended the Mountain Called Honghui and met Ehuang at its peak. Sadly, she was wounded gravely and could not fly, for there was a jewelled spear embedded in her left claw. Kazuhiko, being a virtuous prince, took pity on the Phoenix and used their powers of healing to remove the Jewelled Spear from the Phoenix’s Claw and they were amazed to discover that it was the same Jewelled Spear with which Tsukura and Eienoto were said to have raised all the islands of the Chrysanthemum Ocean, Aomori most of all. And with the Jewelled Spear, Kazuhiko healed Queen Ehuang’s wounds and in gratitude, the Phoenix Queen lifted all three of the Voyagers up onto her back and flew them to the vicinity of Nijo.

Unfortunately, the Queen of Phoenixes was spotted by a group of Oni (Thirteen all in all) as she flew above the outskirts of Nijo, and they were able to shoot her down with a giant crossbow through the groin. The Oni then took the whole group captive and decided to have Ehuang cut up and eaten for dinner while the Three Voyagers would be returned unto Hirano for a hefty ransom. However, Kaede of the Spear was by fortunate chance a lover of riddles and so was Akatsuno King of the Thirteen Oni. So Kaede decided to sit down with King Akatsuno to do riddles and debate philosophy over the course of dinner. And within an hour and a half, Akatsuno decided to release Ehuang from her bonds and captivity and allowed Kazuhiko and Asuka and Kaede to travel onwards into Nijo.

Soon enough did the Three Voyagers reach the Chamber of the Leaping Deer in which Asahiko was asleep and poured some of the Leviathan’s Blood and Ehuang’s Four Feathers into the drinking horn that King Akatsuno had given unto them and put the mixture unto Asahiko’s lips. And because this drink was laced with all the love that had driven the Three Voyagers to journey across the world and slay Shemala’s pet Leviathan and give succour and healing unto Queen Ehuang and give friendship and companionship and amity unto King Akatsuno to save their friend, it succeeded in breaking Zarena’s curse and Asahiko was finally awakened from her enchanted sleep. And then once he was awakened, all of the courtiers and royal family members around Asahiko also awakened from their sleep and dreams. And then at last were Emperor Takeru and Prince-Shogun Hiyoshi reunited with their beloved scion, and there was much love and rejoicing all around.

Unfortunately, Zarena was soon made wholly aware of what had become of her once fearsome and terrible curse, and she turned into a sphere of purple fire and flew like a meteor unto Nijo’s beautiful harbour. In her state of endless ire and intense rage, Zarena dove into the sea as a ball of crimson fire and emerged as a great and terrible Sea Cobra whose head was all enshrouded in a hurricane of orange fire. And with this new and powerful form, Zarena unleashed a storm of raging fire and fiery winds upon the city of Nijo, laying waste to all in her path as she bit towards the Palace of Clan Tsuyomo.

However, little did she know that there was in fact an unintended side effect to all of her machinations. For because she had imbued some of her own magic into Tamuzuud’s cobra form so that he could carry out her will and destroy Asahiko once and for all, some of the magic (or rather, almost all of the magic she had given unto her husband’s serpent form) had leaked into Asahiko’s veins and bloodstream, giving them large amounts of Zarena’s fearsome power. And during Asahiko’s thirteen-and-a-half decades of endless sleep, he had learned to walk in the Realm of Dreams and had seen much of the world during this time of endless rest, including learning how to survive in Zarena’s Dreamless Realm. As a result, he made the decision to take up the Jewelled Spear and enter the Dreamless Realm to confront the terrible Zarena. And there a fight began between Asahiko and Zarena, which ended when Asahiko finally drove the Jewelled Spear straight through Zarena’s heart, causing her to be torn apart by Light from the inside before shattering apart and exploding into shards of diamond crystal.

Upon finally returning to the Mortal Realm, Tsuyomo Asahiko and Hanayama Kazuhiko married each other in a forest temple as Kazuhiko’s father Yasuhiro and his mother Matsudaira Eiko relinquished their crown and relics unto Emperor Takeru, who promptly reassumed the throne alongside his husband and reigned for another forty-six years before finally passing away at the biological age of three-and-eighty three years before his husband came to join him. And with his death, Asahiko became the new Sovereign of the land of Aomori and sat on the throne with Kazuhiko for six-and-seventy years and five months and thirteen days. During their time on the throne, Kazuhiko and Asahiko had two twin children, Mitsuru the Wisest of Priests and Kantaro the Great Warrior. Tsuyomo Mitsuru resigned their rights to the Lotus Throne and became a great philosopher-priest watching over a high mountain temple dedicated to the God of the Moon. However, Tsuyomo Kantaro remained in the Palace and trained to become the great ruler he was always meant to be.

All the while though, there was the bittersweet knowledge that Asahiko was now immortal and would never age like her family, and he was forced to live forever and be eternally young and beautiful as his family grew old and tired around him. And on the fourth day of the eighth month of the seventy-sixth year of Asahiko’s reign, Kazuhiko finally passed away in his sleep from pneumonia and Asahiko knew it was time to resign the Lotus Throne. Eight days later, Prince Kantaro became the new Emperor of the Land of Aomori as his Womb Parent walked out to the harbour to find a boat to take them to new and distant lands. Kantaro of course reigned wisely and well for two-and-twenty years and eight months and eleven days before passing on and leaving the throne unto his son Tsuyomo Shigeru, who ruled for thirty-eight years and six months and thirteen days…yet Asahiko themself is still alive in the world, travelling all of Tellus having adventures and searching for the meaning of all existence in all the lands of humankind. May they indeed one day find it.

@whencartoonsruletheworld @cynicalclassicist @dachi-chan25 @uncleasriel @carcosa-commune @forestelfin

#Asahiko and the Three Voyagers #Fairy tales #Fairy Tale Retelling #Sleeping Beauty #Sleeping Beauty retelling #Japanese Sleeping Beauty #murder cw #blood cw #death cw #blades cw #mild religious talk cw #long post cw #fanfiction #fairy tale fanfiction #Will publish on Archive of our own very soon #fire cw #snakes cw

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