After The Kill 🩸(Oct 1)

After the kill 🩸(Oct 1)

Sticky sex on the bathroom floor after childe comes home from a killing spree. F!reader. TW: blood, just… a lotta blood. Part 1 of my kinktober series

The thrill of the kill is what keeps Childe going back to the battlefield. The way his blade slices through his enemies, the way their blood splatters across his pristine white coat, the way the adrenaline races through his veins- it gets him high. When there’s no one left to kill, the excursion is over. Black leather boots trudge through bloody, sticky snow as they carry their wearer back to his carriage a few miles away. On this hike, Childe feels almost numb, a terrible grin plastered to his face. That feeling will never get old, the power trip, the adrenaline rush, all of it! That’s why he became a harbinger. The love for violence and money, the love for destruction without reason. Now, he heads home to care for his other love. You.

You hear the front door open and shut, it startled you from your sleep. The familiar, heavy footsteps make their way up the old wooden stairs and the bedroom door slams open. Once again, you’re startled, the aggressive action earning a squeak from you “Honey!Welcome home, you scared the shit out of me- you look awful”. It’s true, he’s a mess. He’s covered in dried blood, the once crimson color now a reddish brown smeared over his cheek and hands- He reeks of sweat, blood and mud. As he peels his clothes off and attempts to get into bed beside you, you hurriedly push him back to prevent that mess from staining your pretty patterned sheets. “Absolutely not! You have to bathe first, come on”

Childe is uncharacteristically quiet, he allows you to pull him along across the hall to the bathroom. He moves almost robotically as you help maneuver him out of the rest of his clothes, inspecting him for wounds or blood of his own. Thankfully he’s made it out of yet another battle without a scratch. But that isn’t what he’s thinking about. He isn’t thinking about his messy clothes, the bath, or which oils you want to put in the water. Unbeknownst to you, he’s still lost in his post-battle fog and since he isn’t burning energy through fighting, there’s another way his body can react to these feelings. As you lean over to dip your fingers in the water to check it’s temperature, he catches a glimpse of your panties. The way they cling to your pussy has him reeling.

The room spins as the harbinger grabs you from behind, forcing you to the tiled ground so he can tower over you. He isn’t sweet, house husband Ajax right now no, he’s Childe- No, Tartaglia. The beast on the battlefield, the abyssal knight in crimson armor. His stare is unlike anything you’ve seen from him before, those lightless eyes have you frozen in place as lets go of your wrists to remove his gloves. Those warm hands come back to rip your shirt open, the fabric immediately giving in as he effortlessly tears it apart, baring your chest to the steam filled air. His expression doesn’t change as he runs a hand up your stomach to cup your breast.

“You will never understand,” he murmurs, his voice hardly above a whisper “The rush of a fight. The ecstasy a killing blow brings to my body. I used to go home, covered in the blood of my foes, and jerk off to get rid of the extra energy- and I gotta say, those orgasms are a the kind that leave you shaking for an hour after. Now… Now I have you to help me, right? You’ll help me feel that good again?” He’s waiting for a response, any affirmation that you want this too. He’s giving you an out if you want it but you can’t imagine saying no when he’s practically drooling for you. So you nod, shifting to spread your legs for him and that’s all it takes for him to truly let go.

Those lacy panties are shoved aside to reveal your pretty pussy, earning a low groan from the man above you. He only pauses for a moment to admire you, sighing as he works his own pants off. His cock springs free, red and aching and dear god he needs you so bad. With your encouraging whimpers and the way your legs lock around his hips, he’s finally sinking into you with a guttural moan “fuck yes…” His grip on your waist is enough to leave bruises, his pace is brutal as he slams deep into you. Your shared moans and squelches bounce off the bathroom walls, the steam carrying the scent of blood and sex, keeping the air around you heavy, almost suffocating. His sticky skin rubbing against yours, the friction just adding to it all and Ajax’s eyes roll up back when you clench around him- fuck you’re made for him.

The ecstasy he felt on the battlefield mixes into the pleasure he feels now. The rush is so intense he can hardly focus on any one thing, his body feels… sensitive, like every sensation is twice as nice as it usually is. As your nails rake down his back and his teeth sink into your neck, the pain and pleasure is too much. As the taste of your blood takes over, his orgasm catches him by surprise. His vision goes white, his hips stutter and he tenses as he rides out the feeling. This is better than any lonesome wank post-battle, this is better than anything he’s felt before. When he comes to his senses he’s quick to return the favor, his shaky fingers hurrying to rub at your clit. He watches as his thrusts push his own cum out of you, pearly globs dripping down onto the tile beneath you. The way his name falls from your lips, the way you’re gasping and tightening around him… it all has him grinning madly, his handsome smile stained red.

It’s his favorite color, red. His lifeless eyes take over your body, loving the way your blood glistens on your skin. He’s even messier than you are, covered in sweat, cum and the blood of men you’ll never know. You both are a mess, absolutely reeking up the room. He pulls out to rub his half hard cock between your slick folds, chuckling to himself. He’s gotta treat his girl right, especially after being so rough, but as he catches his breath he can still feel the adrenaline, the rush that hasn’t been quelled. He’s already leakinf again just from the simple action. Deciding to take pity on you, he grabs a towel, rolling it up to slip beneath your head to keep you comfortable. “Don’t get too comfy… ‘M not done with you just yet, baby”

<3 —————

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