#childe tartaglia ajax | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eepyuii · 2 days

Text

frostbite — pt. 14

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn

cw ; mentions of scars (edit: im a fucking idiot i forgot they talk abt scars at the start of the chapter) and like… brief dottore mention, so u know it’s icky. also u guys will be mad at me.

notes ; AHHH!!!!! I LIVE!!!!! oh gosh so many hectic life events lately….. i hadnt been able to get my hands on this dang chapter for so long

anyhow, i was planning to publish this one early like a day or two ago with a reference to an arlecchino voiceline that was THEN a leak and not out yet, so i’m glad i waited and developed this one just a little more LOL

also good luck with everyone’s arle pulls!!! (better luck than mine i hope ;w;) just like childe and the reader at some point, WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS ‼️

previous | next | masterlist

“agh— be more gentle!”

“i’ll be more gentle if you stop flinching away. you’re a war machine who can turn into an abyssal beast, withstand how draining it is to use it, hold your ground against a champion duelist but you can’t handle a little cotton ball soaked in alcohol?”

“well there’s no adrenaline anymore to remedy this sting, now, is there?”

it’s almost comically reminiscent of your meeting with childe back in zapolyarny palace, where he got himself hurt just to come tell you that he was to leave for liyue— feels like it was ages ago. childe leans against the elegant marble counter of your hotel room’s bathroom, pile of bloodied cottons and tissues piling by his hands, while you clean the fresh wounds he’s just acquired from clorinde.

from how much he flinches and hisses, the wounds almost seem grave… but they’re no more than a few scratches, slashes and bruises. after his witty remark, you can only attribute his absurd resilience during battle to the mentioned adrenaline— otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as he has with those reactions of his.

“so did you get what you wanted from that spar? how was it in comparison to your other tries?”

childe pauses thoughtfully and proceeds to pout.

“…i think she was still holding back. i need another spar.”

“gh-! are you kidding?! childe tartaglia ajax, i am not letting you resplit the forehead i just fixed up anytime soon.”

he sighs melancholy like a grounded child, but nods in agreement anyhow. childe’s eyes remain downward, he mindlessly fiddles with the hem of your shirt as he awaits patiently for you to finish tending to his wounds. once you finish, you scan him up and down to certify that you’ve taken care of everything, until your gaze is caught by his scars.

his war medals.

he’s got an insurmountable amount of them scattered all over his body and not one is like the other— some are large lashes most likely caused by weapons like axes or claymores; some are finer lines caused by swords or daggers; a few of them even look like different types of burns, likely the work of varied elemental catalysts; and some look like small stars or circles, probably the result of arrows or the tips of polearms.

the inches of his skin that his scars don’t cover are littered with the tiniest specs of freckles… ones you’ve barely had the privilege to see over the years as a result of living in eternally cold lands. it’s only been since you’ve both been to warmer regions like liyue, inazuma and now fontaine that you’ve began to notice them.

and you’ve found that the intricate, graceful tapestry that childe’s scars and freckles weave is… gorgeous.

it’s so uniquely mesmerizing that you nearly struggle to find a worthy comparison within words or the world around you. the closest one would be to a starry sky— you imagine that his freckles become the stars that remain stationary and furthest away in the night sky, small and bountiful, while his scars are the shooting stars that flash by in a vivid explosion of light.

it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

you’ve realized that you’re less afraid to admit this to yourself now. perhaps spending so much constant time with childe after such a while of misencounters and diverging schedules, has made you become more comfortable around him— to the point where you barely minded him childishly playing with the hem of your shirt. it feels fine, domestic even… almost in the same way that a coup—

“hey, why’re you staring so hard? am i not gonna make it, doc?”

you flinch as you’re snapped away from your train of thought, taking in how childe’s eyes flicker worriedly over your face. unfortunately, your mind isn’t freed from the grasp of your thoughts of… admiration and your gaze quickly flies over his scars once again. the delicacy of the moment, unexpectedly, fuels you with enough confidence to raise forward a hand that lightly grazes a particularly eye-catching gash on childe’s neck— the stretched healed skin ever so slightly bumping against your digits.

“nothing… j’st looking at your scars.” you answer absentmindedly.

beneath your hand, you feel his adam’s apple raise in a hearty gulp. next, childe inhales deeply and exhales a shuddered breath, as if an attempt to ground himself.

“what about ‘em?” he whispers expectantly.

“i like them.”

it’s as if you’ve gotten the liquid courage of a drink while being entirely sober, you’re surprised that you’ve done so much as let yourself say that out loud. though perhaps… that bewilderment might just be your downfall— within the thought, you notice just how close you and childe stand before each other. he leans against the bathroom counter in only the deep red undershirt of his uniform, eyes laser-guided onto your every move while you’re only a hair’s length away from him. his absurd height doesn’t help the moment either, as he’s forced to hunch over and his figure arches forward into you— it’s suffocating.

you can’t allow yourself to crumble and panic right now, it would absolutely destroy you for the rest of your life, so you opt to breathe deeply. childe watches intently as you do and returns it with his own deep sigh, one that you feel hit your face warmly the moment it leaves his lips and so it further capitalizes on just how obscenely close the two of you are— to the point where you breathe each other’s air.

childe’s piercing azure eyes move from matching your own to slightly further down on your face…

to your lips.

“yeah?” he mumbles in the most delicate tone possible, it’s not like you’re too far to hear anyway.

it’s an inexplicable magnetic pull that brings you the smidgenmost closer to him, it has to be so. it must be that same pull that brings you to look at his mouth— plump and pink, likely still store from the split at the corner of his bottom lip. and there’s no other possibility other than that damned magnet as to why your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, childe’s shyly snaking around your waist in response.

you don’t feel like you’re in a bathroom in a hotel room in fontaine anymore, you don’t feel like the seconds pass anymore. it’s a pocket between space and time that has enveloped the two of you, away from everything else.

and there’s nothing in this world left to do other than to lean just a breath closer to each other… just a little more and—

knock knock knock knock!

you flinch away faster than lightning, heart thudding ironically like thunder. childe also seems to have been entirely spooked by the knocks on the bedroom door and he pretends to bring his hand up to scratch something on his face, but you know very well he means to hide his glaringly flushed face— you know that because you do the very same, only you briskly step away to open the door instead.

outside the room, two fontainian officers greet you, though they seemingly go wide eyed for just a brief second as if you’re not who they expect to answer.

“forgive me, friend, this is… mr. tartaglia’s room, is it not?” one inquires.

you frown in suspicion, and you plan to not directly confirm the question as to pry exactly what business two policemen would have with childe. unfortunately, the devil decides to announce it himself by coming up behind you, arms crossed defensively.

“and what might be the problem, officer?” childe asks pointedly.

both officers simultaneously eye the two of you, the blushing idiots opening the door together, and proceed to share a knowing look. the first officer sighs while the second clears his throat awkwardly.

“we apologize for… intruding so abruptly but— mr. tartaglia, you are currently being suspected of being the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young women case. for the time being, you are under arrest and must face trial at the opera epiclese to make your case.”

…what.

“what?”

coincidentally, both you and childe exclaim at the same time— though, childe’s tone is rather condescendingly skeptical while yours is laced with pure, unadulterated shock.

the harbinger scoffs. “well, i can very confidently tell you right now that i didn’t do it.”

yeah, great way to clear any and all suspicion, man.

frustratedly pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to help you process the last five seconds, you sigh.

“i-i think what he means to say, officer, is that it’s not plausible for him to even be a suspect in this case. i mean— if i remember correctly, doesn’t that case extend for over twenty years? we’ve only been in fontaine for a few weeks! you can check our travel tickets, they’re dated. plus, we haven’t done anything even remotely disruptive while we’ve been here, both of us have multiple reliable alibi’s regarding our whereabouts over the past few days, and—“

the officer puts up a dismissive hand, effectively interrupting you. “please, leave this for the iudex to hear.”

a metallic jingling catches your attention and you see that the second policeman wordlessly produces handcuffs from his tool belt, the panic bubbles in your throat even further. childe’s shoulders visibly tense and it’s clear that he’s intent on fighting back— with once again lighting fast reflexes, you put a hand on his shoulder and throw him a warning look as a means to discreetly impede him. childe sighs frustratedly but ceases anyhow, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. out of pure illogical desperation, you chase after.

“don’t say anything hostile or stupid until we find you a lawyer! i promise you i’ll be right behind!” you call out as the three are at the other end of the hallway and catch a final look from childe, the emotion behind it is indescribable.

your chest feels overwhelmingly tight.

—

who knew such a resplendent room could be so suffocating.

it feels as though you’ve been waiting for an eternity and the intended comfort of the opera eplicese’s waiting room only serves to unnerve you more. the most important person in your life has just been abruptly accused of being a serial kidnapper and you’re supposed to indulge in sickeningly sweet pastries and tasteless tea? it’s almost derogatory.

your leg has become sore from how much it bounces restlessly, your nail plates scratchy from how much you fidget with them, all the paper napkins on the table sloppily folded into failed paper stars. none of it helps.

you can’t even decide what to worry about, all of it swirls and spirals in your head like a rumbling tornado. is he okay? are the officers treating him well? who will defend him? will he go to prison? for how long? when in the tsaritsa’s name will arlecchino retur—

the door slams open and you jump, partially with the abruptness of it and out of sheer panic to get some news on the situation. your heart starts palpitating again and it takes everything within your willpower to seem more put together in front of the knave.

“s-so?” you ask with an uncontrollable shake in voice.

“it’s invariable, childe must face trial and defend himself. we can only count on the factuality that he is innocent and the oratrice will say accordingly.”

you sigh, at least… whatever in the archons’ name constitutes that machine is infallible.

“the trial starts in five minutes.” arlecchino adds curtly.

you nod and allow yourself to take a deep, grounding breathe before standing up to leave the waiting room. as your hand reaches out to the doorknob, there is a firm grip on your shoulder. you turn ever so slightly to find a pointy-nailed, stark black hand holding you back— another moment to analyze the hand reveals to you that… that’s her skin. black.

a chill runs down your spine.

“allow me, for a moment, to ask a selfish question in exchange for a selfish answer, sargeant.” she stands, voice dark and menacing. “as an asset of the doctor’s… do you share his ideals?”

the question takes you off-guard but it also… doesn’t. you’re not an idiot— you’ve heard of dottore’s letters to the house of the hearth suggesting the, err.. ‘rejects’ be sent to his custody so he can further his experiments. you remember how utterly appalled you were when you first came across the information. if the knave truly cares about the children in her orphanage, it’s no wonder how tightly she grips your shoulder, sharp nails just a breath away from breaking skin.

and so she asks you selfishly, a question not of loyalty but of morality.

dottore’s face flashes before your eyes and your hand subconsciously tightens into a fist, expression hardening.

“if his life were in my hands, i’d crush it in a heartbeat.” you whisper bitterly.

the grip releases you and it’s as if air is easier to breathe after that. arlecchino wordlessly steps ahead to open the door for you and gestures for you to leave first, expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

the courtroom looks like no courtroom at all, rather you feel as though you’re about to watch an opera in a grand theater— the rumors about fontaine seem to be true after all. in the rows of cushy seats, people whisper and gossip endlessly until you find yourself a seat and the booming sound of a gavel being struck echoes through the court, all sound ceases.

“court is now in session for the case of serial disappearances of young women, today we will hear both the prosecution and defense’s arguments regarding mr. tartaglia of the fatui’s alleged involvement.”

a baritone voice echoes through the silent courtroom, the direction it rings out from reveals a white-haired man in proper blue robes, sitting in a balcony that floats above the courtroom’s stage. you recognize him as the iudex, the chief justice, monsieur neuvillette. his tone is elegant and intellectual, with complete considerate professionalism—- its cadence almost reminds you of zhongli in a sense. but that’s not all that reminds you of zhongli… you can’t quite put your finger on it though.

what follows is merely formal introductions from the prosecution and the defense and you take the opportunity to become distracted and ponder over just how catastrophic your morning had turned out. it all happened so quickly too— one second you were… ah… canoodling with childe and the next he was being escorted out the room by law enforcement. had you been cursed by the gods? would they be so cruel as to make every peaceful moment in your life just merely bedding for the next major inconvenience? would they be so frustratingly taunting as to let you get that close to the one you have feelings for only to rip you two away from each other right afterwards?

“it would appear i must repeat my question, mr. tartaglia.” neuvillette says firmly, catch your attention and breaking you from your daze.

“do you accept the charge that you are the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case?”

“to be perfectly honest, i don’t understand your country’s complicated court systems, or the reason why i’m being charged with something i’ve never even heard of.” the harbinger answers bluntly.

“however, i did hear that people who have been charged can choose to participate in a duel to clear their name— is that right? in that case, as long as i accept the charge, i can have an all out fight with that champion duelist clorinde, right?”

…

how can the supposed love of your life be this stupid?

“when i privately sparred with her last time, she was obviously holding back… real disappointing.”

“hey, don’t you understand? you’re currently the prime suspect for a major case! this isn’t the place for you to be looking for fights.” a female voice calls out from the balcony directly above where you seat— while you can’t see who it is, you can only assume from the bossiness of her tone that it’s lady furina herself, the hydro archon.

“oh? sounds like the hydro archon wants to lecture me on the ways of the opera house…” childe taunts. “then why don’t you duel me too? i’m the kind of students that learns best in the heat of battle.”

you’ll kill him, oh you’ll kill this idiot one day… does he want to rot in prison for the rest of his days? this time you truly cannot hold yourself back from subconsciously standing up in panic, limbs urging to get up there and try to amend the situation yourself by arguing like a normal, sane person— but the judging stares of the other spectators hinder you glued to your seat out of sheer embarrassment.

“alas, it would appear that communication with the defendant is going poorly, and we have made very little progress.” neuvillette intervenes. “in that case, let me explain everything from the very beginning again. the goal of this trial is to determine the culprit behind the serial disappearances case—“

“that case had nothing to do with him! you’ve got the wrong man!”

huh? …who said that? did that not come out of your own mouth? seems like something you’d blur out… instead it comes from a flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who bursts into the courtroom at that very second. to you, she nearly seemed angelic in the moment.

“miss navia, this is the second time you’ve interrupted the court proceedings. i only tolerated your behavior last time because you were able to provide the court with a key eyewitness. but that was exception rather than standard court protocol— i can very well charge you with contempt of court for your interjections.”

“oh please, did you ever think i had any respect for this place’s pointless theatrics?” navia scoffs.

“we can put aside that discussion for now, i’m not here to argue with you. i’m here to charge the true culprit behind the serial disappearances case. and if my charges prove true, the tartaglia here will be proven innocent by default, correct?”

neuvillette proceeds to dismiss childe from the stand to make way for navia and allows him to seat in the audience and you feel like you should owe this lady your life. childe’s eyes scan through the seats and when he spots you, he visibly lights up and beelines to the seat next to yours.

“challenging the hydro archon? really?” you whisper playfully.

childe contains himself not to laugh loudly. “can’t say it wasn’t worth the shot.”

it’s as if a wordless conversation settles between the two of you, silent glances and deep sighs that express the mutual hopefulness for a good outcome of this trial. after a solid few seconds of staring at each other like fools, childe’s gaze drops down, you follow it to see his gloved palm sat in the armrest between the two of you— it faces outward in an invitation. your hand joins his without thought and the second your skin registers the warmth that radiates from his hold, it’s like an electric shock runs through your veins. one so buzzing that makes you two simultaneously face away from each other to hide your burning cheeks.

you’d like to pretend that you’re paying attention to the trial, but the ever so gentle squeezes childe hand gives yours periodically seem to take up all of your focus and cause it to short circuit. suddenly, there’s another burst of the courtroom’s doors and there stand the traveler and paimon, because of course they’re somehow also involved in this.

“naviaaa, we’re back!” paimon calls out.

“as expected of my partner! i just knew you’d come back in the nick of time!”

“just how often do you intend to flout the rules of this court…” neuvillette mutters disappointedly.

the traveler’s appearance contributes new evidence towards navia’s favor, who expertly disperses all of the oppositions statements. the culprit is revealed to be a man by the name of vacher, who was intent on bringing back his dear vigneire to the point where he began dissolving innocent young women with primordial seawater. as overtly ridiculous as fontaine’s spectacle culture seemed to be, you couldn’t say that watching this trial play out wasn’t extremely entertaining.

but speaking of innocent…

“at this point, the verdict of this trial is clear. with mr. marcel’s conviction, the charges against mr. tartaglia no longer hold any basis.”

you giddily look over at childe, who seems as aloof as someone who didn’t worry for a second. your fingertips tingle with excitement and you can feel the stress evaporate off your shoulders in real time. neuvillette summarizes the entire case once more and submits the verdict to the oratrice— the machine hums loudly and flashes a blinding blue, producing an envelope finally confirming his guilty status. much to unspoken disappointment, childe lets go of your hand to stand with his chest proudly puffed up.

“well now, hasn’t this been the most delicious piece of drama? the villain has been caught, justice has been served, pas wrongs have been righted and it’s a bit ol happy ending… since it’s been such a great show, i’ll just let the false accusations against me slide. either way, i’ve still got some business to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me—“

the harbinger looks back to offer you his hand once more and you happily take it before childe begins to lead you two out of the room. unfortunately, the guards at the doors of the courtroom remain unmoving as they block the doors and you frown in confusion.

“please wait just one moment, mr. tartaglia.” says the iudex.

“oh, what now? none of this has anything to do with me.” childe groans.

“according to court protocol, since this trial was initiated due to a charge against you, a verdict must also be made regarding the initial charge before the trial can conclude.”

you sigh out of selfish frustration, but opt to respect the proceedings anyhow— it’s not like the verdict will change now. childe, on the other hand, voices his annoyance like a petulant kid.

“please respect the laws of fontaine. this has always been the rule.”

“it’s fine, we’ll just have to wait here a few little seconds more.” you whisper to childe coaxingly.

he sighs. “alright alright, but this has been a lot of hassle. all i need is to stand over there, right? let’s just get this over with…”

“through evidence presented in the public trial that was just held, it has been established that mr. tartaglia has no direct connection to the serial disappearances case. the guilty party has been established and thus, it is logical to suppose mr. tartaglia is innocent of the charges.”

the machine whirrs once more, stirring some curiosity within you as to what exactly makes it tick or give accurate verdicts at all. as the envelope reaches the chief justice’s hands, he seems to stutter for a moment as he reads it. neuvillette’s ever so stoic face falls slightly into a vexed frown and he hums in confusion.

“according to the judgment of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, mr. tartaglia is— guilty.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

#genshin impact fic #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia x reader

46 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 9 months

Text

『♡』 Losing Game

♡ featuring: ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: simmering feelings boil over as you're confronted by the man you hate the most; tartaglia, your boss. wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, degradation, humiliation, creampie, squirting, light choking, sadism, throat-fucking, cum play, fingering, overstimulation, brat taming, mind break, pet names (doll, baby)

notes: hiii, the positive response from the last one motivated me to get this done just in time for Fontaine. kinda long this time so sorry abt that. ajax my beloved <3 art by sonomi_rap5 on twitter comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Working for the fatui wasn’t easy in the slightest, especially when you aren’t on harbinger status. You were sent on long, grueling tasks only to be met with loose interpretations of gratitude and sometimes silence from the higher-ups, in which most wouldn’t even glance in your direction. Pleasant beginnings became a sour afterthought, and your perception of the fatui changed drastically. Your grievances, however, weren’t helped by your quick-witted snappy attitude and competitiveness; Presumably why you ended up under the division of Tartaglia. You assumed a binding contract from the capricious redhead wouldn’t mean much, but that was quickly proven false.

You'd rather climb every mountain in Snezhnaya than spend a minute talking to that airhead. He was instructed to keep a watchful eye on you during missions despite the competence you demonstrated. It was insulting. Anything he did you could do better. It’d been proven multiple times from the petty challenges you created. How much water you could drink, how long you can stay up. You won every time. How could you not hate him? His feigned ignorance and careless flirtations were enough to drive you mad. “Please, call me Ajax” he’d say, winking. The simpering smile he gave you after every comeback shot daggers in your pride. What made you particularly furious was the incessant drum of your heart whenever he was near you. The warm autumn morning that was his hair. The cool still waves his eyes sent to your core. You couldn’t fall for him, or else he’d have one up on you. You had to be stronger than that. You quelled your stress in a tattered journal gifted years ago.

“Hey, comrade!” His bubbly tone makes knots in your stomach, and you choose to stay silent. You’re hoping this mission will go without a hitch, as long as he doesn’t get in your way. Ajax lets out a teasing whistle.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” As you’re collecting the items needed for the deal, he rocks back and forth on his heels directly in front of you, absent-mindedly watching.

You whip your head to face him, “You can’t see I’m doing something right now?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. But this isn’t entertaining.”

“Unlike you, your majesty, I have no choice but to be perfect. I apologize if that’s not exciting enough for you.” You retort with sarcastic curtsy.

“Haha! You’re always a pleasure to be around, (Y/N). My faithful, kind-hearted companion.” he said with a taunting wink. You're beyond flustered, haphazardly stuffing the remains in your bag and lugging it over your shoulder.

“Let's go.” You say lazily. He follows closely, arms crossed behind his head. “Calling me like a dog, how romantic.”

“If you don’t want to be called like a dog stop acting like one.”

“You could at least give me a treat if I'm gonna be your dog.” He looks at you, making his best impression of puppy-eyes. You bite back a few choice words, and glare at him instead. He isn’t fazed by this and flashes a beguiling smile that makes your ears warm. Glancing at the weight you’re shouldering, he comments, “You sure you don’t need any help with that?”

“No. The last person I need help from is you.”

You and Ajax regroup in an alleyway deep in Fontaine’s bustling city. You are assigned to retrieve a rare gem for one of Pantalone’s elaborate schemes, and you quickly prepare yourself for this interaction. Ajax studies you, leaning against one of the walls.

“Can’t you be a little nicer to your superior? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a lot of trouble half the time. You’re welcome.” You scoff. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, I have no problem doing this on my own.”

“I’m sure. Don’t mind me, Ms. Independent.” A sly smirk crawled up his face. “Fucking asshole” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?”

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” After a few moments of silence, Ajax grips his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch. I’m gutted!”

Just as you're about to leave, he snatches your wrist, now only mere inches away from your face. His hand gently brushes away the strays of hair on your forehead. “There you go, doll. Gotta be perfect for your debut.” A whirlwind of emotions strangles your ability to think clearly, you pull your wrist away and start speed walking, attempting to gather yourself before you get to the jewelry store.

You enter the empty store and are immediately confronted by the jeweler.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” You proclaim your business and appointment under a fake identity, posturing yourself as wealthy. “May I see identification please.” Of course, you say. As you’re looking through your purse you notice something: there’s no identification here. Surely you weren’t that negligent over something so simple. You rummaged through the other compartments, trying to stay calm in front of an increasingly concerned jeweler. But it’s not there. How is this possible. Your nerves are heightened and the anxiety of failing the mission starts to creep in. “I made an appointment with Lottie; she’ll be able to provide reference. I believe I left my passport at home.” The jeweler seems slightly disappointed. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am not allowed to present any gems without identification.” Your heart beats faster. “Well, sir, I’m very busy and I’m afraid this is my only chance to close on this item. You wouldn’t want to push away a well-paying customer.”

“I have no choice in the matter. If you have no proof of identification, I must ask you to leave.” Should I take it by force? You thought, thinking about the next possible option. As you’re about to handle the rest physically, the door swings open. Ajax comes up to you, placing his arm around your waist.

“My love, were you able to get the gem we were discussing?” You’re annoyed, but you improvise and look at him as if he’s the love of your life. “Not yet, dear.” Suddenly, he places a plush kiss on your lips. You’re stunned and speechless, filled with anger and wanting.

The jeweler interjects. “And are you the husband? Would you happen to have any identification.”

“Yes, sir.” Ajax pulls out a passport and fake birth certificate unbeknownst to you and begins to close the deal. The rest of the meeting you sit speechless.

“Thank you for your patronage.” are the last words you hear as you leave the store, Ajax guiding you with his hand. You’re silent the whole way back to your room.

You turn your bag upside down and begin looking for the mismatched documents. All while Ajax stares at you expectingly. You ignore his presence.

“So... how about a ‘you’re welcome?’”

“For what.”

He lets out a mocking laugh. “For what? I don’t know, maybe saving your ass back there? You froze, and you were unprepared, Ms. Independent.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten it if it wasn’t for the obnoxious bullshit you did this morning.”

“That’s dishonest, I wasn’t even talking!” he pretends to be hurt. “Admit that you need me.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” His light-hearted inflection vexes you and makes it hard for you to focus as you read through the mountains of pages in your folder.

While your head is down, Ajax comes across the tattered notebook just peeking out from under the bed. Storing the months—no years—of feelings you had regarding the fatui. Regarding him. Some time passes and you finally raise your head, met with the horrifying reveal of him skimming through the journal, mischief coating the deep void in his eyes. You spring up and reach for the book but he’s faster, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head.

“This is really good stuff... really good.” You shout profanities over and over, anything to get his attention away from the book. But he continues to read as if you’re not there. When he’s done reading, he lets you go, and you instantly try to swing at him. Before you can land a hit, he grabs you by the throat and stares into your soul, almost as if he’s trying to swallow your being.

“You’ve been acting like a little fucking brat all over a crush? Not very big girl of you.”

“I know you think you’re beyond charming, but I promise you don’t have that effect on me.”

“Really? Let’s play a game then.” He knew you’d accept just to beat him at anything.

“If you don’t cum by the end of this journal, I’ll apologize for everything. I’ll do whatever you want. But if I win-” he steps closer to you, “You have to do everything I say.”

You almost burst out laughing. Such an easy challenge, how hard could it be?

You're panting, trying your hardest to focus on the words that seemed to melt off the page. Your back lays comfortably against his chest, with his legs keeping yours spread.

“Next page, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are lenient and breathy. Your underwear is still on, but Ajax’s fingers are covered in your slick, playing with the erect nub just enough to make you fuzzy. “You look like you’re tapping out.”

“This? This is nothing” You respond meekly, continuing the reading.

“I can’t help but have fe-elings for himph.”

“There’s some nice things about me in here, why aren’t you always like this?” He says, circling and dipping into your gushy folds, smearing the glossy mess all over your vulva. You try so hard to read the letters, squirming from his touch. The sensation pulsing from your clit to your brain made you incoherent; the more you move, the more he moves. The contents of the journal are humiliating, detailing your romantic and sexual attraction towards Ajax, and your attempts to stifle these feelings. He was getting a kick out of seeing your flustered face stammer over his appearance. He plays with the precum glazing his fingers, widening them to watch the trail it left. Only two more pages left.

“I-I-” You couldn’t get through the first sentence on the last page. Your thighs are trembling, and your pussy began to twitch. “Uh, s-shit. Ajax, wai-.” He trails his fingers over your clit spelling his name, then pushes two inside, fighting back an amused grin. “You’re almost done” Teasing in your ear. You bite back the moans threatening to escape; at the very least you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He watches you fall apart, shaking more aggressively before your body gives in and you cum on his fingers.

“Uh oh, that’s unfortunate.” You try your best to catch your breath, but he rides out your orgasm, making you subconsciously grind yourself into his palm. Then you’re struck with the reality of losing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling back from the taste. “So fucking good, does being a bitch make you taste better?” You were too embarrassed from the loss to retort. “You won.”

“I did.” He lifts you off the bed and onto the floor, your legs still recovering. He hikes your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach until he gets to your nipples. He flicks and sucks one while kneading the other one, occasionally biting the slightly bruising flesh. “Not gonna moan for me, huh baby?”

“Not in the slightest.” You rasped. He smiles and blows cool air on your tits, sending a rippling feeling down your back. “That’s okay, you’ll give in.”

Ajax unbuttons his pants, and they drop in front of you. Unsheathing his thick throbbing length, drooling with desire. His balls are full and heavy, and as you look up at him his eyes are clouded with lust. The pretty freckles that dotted his arms and chest are much more visible now, and so are his battle scars. He breathed in deep, "take care of this for me, yeah?” You wanted to say no and say fuck this; but there was another side that wanted him desperately, that needed this.

You force your jaw open to accommodate his size and push yourself halfway on his girth, feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. Once you feel like you got it in, you slobber all over his cock, dampening his balls and begin to bob your head. You stroke with one hand and massage his sack with the other, leading to a breathy whimper from him. “Ah fuck, feels good. Suck it slow, slut.” You begin to move faster while cupping his balls, obscene noises leaving your sopping mouth. You have tears running down your sweating face trying to keep up with the vigorous movement of your tongue. You feel him throb a few times, his moans and grunting getting progressively louder.

“Need more” is all he says, putting one of his legs on the bed and grabbing both sides of your head. Before you can register what’s happening. Ajax pushes your head onto his cock until your nose reaches his pubes. He lets out a breathy sigh and starts throat fucking you with an animalistic grip. The gagging and spit noises echo off the walls, along with his continuous whimpering. You wanted to hate him, but your blood was buzzing, and your panties were drenched. “Shut up and take it” followed by broken fuck’s and yes’s. He threw his head back, hair slicked and torso gleaming with sweat, “look at me.” You reluctantly look up, addicted to his passionate expression. “I want you looking at me when I cum.” You grip his thighs, and he twitches a few times before spurting white, thick cum down your throat. He pulls out slightly to drag his semen over your lips and then taps it on your face, holding you in place.

“What are you doing? Clean me up.” he husked. You clean him up without complaint and lick your lips, forced to maintain eye contact with him the entire way.

In one swoop, Ajax picks you up and throws you on the bed, eager to get your underwear off. “You proved your point, stop being an ass" you slurred out. The room was intoxicating, all you could smell and feel was him. He takes your panties off, spreading your pussy to watch the slippery puddle dribble down your thighs. He shoves your panties in your mouth, “Fucking liar, I know you like it. Can’t taste how wet you are?” He aligns himself with your aching hole, keeping your arch steady with you bent over. Shoving his cock in, moaning from the feeling of your body perfectly molding for him. Ajax starts moving at a rapid pace quickly, his big slender hands tightly gripping your ass. The sound of wet sticky skin slapping together and the squelching from your core made you shudder. It was all too much; you have been teetering on an orgasm since you went down on him, and the way his balls thump your clit make you quiver.

“Whiny brat. Just needed to be fucked good to shut up, yeah?” he groaned through his words. Tears were coming down your eyes now, you can’t tell if he’s edging you by accident or on purpose. But right now, you’d do anything. He turns your head to face him, gazing at your tear-stricken face. “Aww, you cryin’ for me?” He stops to kiss and lick your tears, delighted by your tenderness. Taking the panties out your mouth, he brings your body flush with his and continues to pump inside with you looking at him.

“So sweet all of a sudden, where’d that attitude go?” The morals you had for moaning went missing and mewls and soft whimpers began to leave you. “Let it out, baby.” You’re suddenly babbling please’s begging for him to let you have it. “Pathetic, can’t even get off on your own. You need me that bad?” You nod repeatedly, dangerously close to your release. He had a dark look in his eyes and a sinful smirk. “Yeah? Okay, you’ve been so good.” He reaches down and starts to rub your clit ceaselessly, kissing your cheek. Your whimpers become loud shaky moans and he finally lets you have it, shockwaves going through your body as you’re dissolved into pleasure. You pulsate through the explosion, jello-brain and boneless as your cum leaks down his thighs. Just as he pulls out and flips you over. You’re dizzy and drunk off him, legs shaking indefinitely from the intensity. Then he puts it back in. “You can take one more, yeah baby?” Your overstimulated and violent shaking wasn’t enough for him to stop. He wanted you ruined. He keeps going, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining with each other. He feeds you deep strokes, tip prodding your spot every time and watching as your tits bounce. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You have no thoughts, only his name rings in your head. You can feel the coil inside you winding up, pleasure beyond the searing pain of your swollen pussy. He looks down at you and smiles.

“Look at me." You can’t hear anything at this point, not even the sound of your own voice. So, it’s a pleasant surprise when your voice carries his name, “Ajax, Ajax”, chanting as if he’s your god. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Let it out. baby” he says grinning. You’re clamping him so tight and throbbing until you ultimately shatter with him, releasing a stream of squirt onto him and the sheets. He bucks into you, letting out thick spurts, panting heavily as he watches you in disarray. You instinctively hold on to his arms, trembling uncontrollably as you try to search for breath and ride it out. You’re completely hysterical and sobbing from the emotion it ripped into you. You were in shambles and Ajax couldn’t help but smile out of happiness for what he caused. “I’m so sorry.” you say repeatedly, eyes shut and lined with tears. He got closer to wrap you in his arms, and you cling to him for stability. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

You didn’t want to talk about it when you woke up. You were hoping he’d be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation. But there he was, watching you sleep just as the sun rose. His ginger hair danced with golden flecks of light, and he looked at you like you were the only person on Teyvat.

“Creep.”

“Good morning to you too, baby~.”

#childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ajax smut

4K notes · View notes