A Place Among The Flowers

a place among the flowers

summary: you give your loving boyfriend the greatest birthday gift of all time in a field of flowers.

pairing: tartaglia x reader

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: fem!reader ✦ reader wears a dress ✦ childe is called by his birth name ✦ outdoor sex ✦ fingering ✦ biting ✦ creampie ✦ some possessiveness ✦  pet names (love / good girl / baby) ✦ childe is a needy feral freak but that’s why we love him 

notes: belated bday gift for the ginger-haired menace <3

In the summer haze, Ajax laid his head in your lap and breathed you in.

Flowers surrounded the both of you, but to him, you were the meadow's loveliest one, a perfect bloom for his flaming, hungry teeth to tear into.

Because for every berry he ate from your fingers, Ajax was determined to leave behind a small, stinging nip with his teeth, soothing each little nick with nectar-sweetened kisses.

“If you keep on doing that,” you grumbled down at him, his long legs stretched out in the long grass without a care, “I’m shoving these berries down your throat and leaving you here.”

Ajax grinned up at you then, his smile as saccharine as the berry juices staining the corner of his mouth, a celebration of summer blotted much like blood.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but his tone was as light as the summer breeze playing in his hair. “Guess I’m too hungry.”

You squished his face, making his freckles bunch together like a cluster of starry apples. Ajax only peered up at you innocently, his eyes sparkling. He truly was as adorable as he was irritating, and you thought about taking a bite out of him as revenge, but you knew doing that would only thrill him into acting up even more. 

“And annoyingly spoiled. You’re lucky it’s your birthday,” you snapped, but you still dutifully lowered a berry to his lips, waiting. Ajax wasted no time, darting his tongue out and licking the treat from your sticky fingers—no better than a starving dog that wanted nothing more than to shred your flowered dress into pretty ribbons and clutch the ruined tatters as a prize between his salivating teeth. 

But even when your boyfriend acted this greedy, you couldn’t help but feel something unspooling inside you—something syrupy and warm, as if you were laying in a patch of cozy sunlight.

Until you felt his damn teeth nip at you again.

You quickly retreated your fingers from his maw and clamped a hand over his mouth. You glared down at him. “Next birthday, you're getting a muzzle.”

But Ajax knew how to soften you up just as he knew how to agitate you. He pressed a kiss as soft as petals to your palm, and you felt yourself unfurl, warmth spreading sweetly and slowly like honey through your veins. 

Ajax then grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the lively thrum of your pulse against his lips. “And keep me from kissing you everywhere? I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

You roll your eyes, but that doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to your cheeks; that doesn’t stop him from peppering more kisses on your arm, looking up at you adoringly. “You know, there’s a certain gift you could still give me before it gets dark and we head home…”

Heart fluttering at his suggestion, you watch the sun sink behind the hills, slowly blanketing the world in silky shadow. “And what makes you think you deserve that?” you scoffed.

One second you watched the sky brighten with the glitter of lantern lights; the next second your world was blurring over, and your boyfriend was hovering above you, trapping you beneath him. 

Backlit by the fading golden light, Ajax’s eyes were clouded with devotion and desire for you, bluer than the sky he mounted you under. You felt his hardness against your thigh, felt his cock throb against you, and your stomach became alight with a thousand crystalflies. “I think I can work for it,” he said, smiling down at you and you feel yourself warm instantly.

When Ajax smiled at you, it was like the sun shining beyond the white fleece of clouds. 

Dimpled, warm, and sweet, he had that boyish smile that leaves golden dust over everything like a ray of sunshine, making the day much brighter and your heart so much warmer. 

But he also had a smile that could burn hot enough to start a forest fire—flickering and wild and unrestrained, but still so beautiful that you couldn’t help but lift your palms to feel the scorching heat kiss your flesh. 

When he looked at you with that kind of reverence blacked by the flames of his hunger, you didn’t have the strength to deny him what he wanted; so when he requested to eat berries from the palm of your hand, you indulged him, and when he began to stroke you from your knee up to your thigh with bruising fingers, you let him; and now, when he yanked at the ribbons that tied the bodice of your dress together in his fervent quest to fuck you in the warm, darkening air of the meadow, you had no choice but to grant him his wish.

After all, he was the birthday boy, and who were you to keep the present he yearned for the most away from him?

Ajax's kisses left a fire trail, open-mouthed and searing, from your collarbones to your neck to your lips. You moaned as he roughly palmed your breasts through your dress, and you felt his urgency, his utter hunger, burning beneath his skin like an inferno. 

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Ajax groaned against your mouth, a desperate, sultry hymn that made your heart race and heat rush to the aching place between your thighs, already weeping with your desire. “I’ve been wanting you all day.” 

Trapped in the arms of your wild lover, the one who’ll scatter your sweetness among the grass like petals, Ajax tore your dress down, exposing your breasts to his mouth. It was like a feast, with him latching onto one nipple and sucking and biting until it bruised plum purple like the night sky before repeating the same action to the other. Pain and pleasure sparked to life in you like the lantern lights up above, twinkling gemstones encrusting the night sky.

When his fingers slid into you, you gasped into his mouth; his strokes were fast and vicious but electrifying, pushing deep inside of you and hitting that heavenly place that yearned for his brutal caress the most. You felt hot all over as if you had swallowed the sun. But Ajax was the sun, igniting you from within, his touch and kisses spreading like wildfire over your body. You desperately wanted to be consumed; you wanted to be razed down, leaving nothing behind but shifting ash at his feet. 

And you did melt away to nothing beneath him, your vision flashing white and bright when your body shook as you came undone upon his fingers, pearling them with your wetness. You clung to him, trying to catch the breath that he stole. 

“Ajax, please, please,” you whimpered, and Archons above, you wanted him inside you; you wanted him to sink so deeply into you that you didn’t know where he ended and where you began, entwined forever with each other in this hazy summer dream.

Ajax chuckled, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. "Please, what, love? What do you want me to do to you?” 

You were not above begging at this point. “I want you to fuck me, please. I need you.” You ground your hips against him in need, but Ajax just looked down at you, his sunny smile edged with something darker. 

“Wanna clean me up first?” He said, brushing the fingers that were inside of you against your lips, urging your mouth open, your wetness shimmering on them, an opalescent string catching the light from the moon, much like precious dew drops clinging to a flower.

You opened your mouth and took in his fingers, your essence coating your tongue with its husky sweetness. Ajax groaned as he felt your tongue wrap around them, hungrily licking him clean with grazes of your teeth. You were no better than him from moments earlier; you both were wild, wanton things that desired nothing more than to bite the hand that fed you. 

Letting go of him with a lewd pop, Ajax’s fingers were shining bright with your saliva, and he reverently rubbed his lips against them, leaving behind a gleaming shine of your essence on his mouth. 

“Good girl,” Ajax murmured, kissing your forehead softly. “You taste sweeter than berries.” His fingers gently caressed your wet folds, his eyes dark with wonder. “You’re already so wet for me. You want me that badly, huh? Do you know how much I want you?”

He grabbed your hand and pressed it firmly against his crotch, making you feel the hardness of his cock beneath your palm, the precum dampening the fabric of his pants. With his guidance, you unbuckled and pulled down his pants, revealing what you craved most—his cock, red and weeping at the tip, desperate for the sweet relief only you could give him.

Lifting your legs onto his shoulders, Ajax’s grin burned bright, full of ravenous, flaming need. “I want everything to hear how much you want me,” he growled, lining himself up at your entrance. “From the sky to the trees to the flowers, I want everything to hear how much you need me.”

Ajax thrust into you abruptly, roughly, passionately, and you arched your back at the intense pleasure of finally, finally being filled to the point of breaking. His body covered yours, pinning you beneath him like a pressed flower, attempting to envelop you completely.

“You feel so good,” Ajax breathed deliriously against your neck, thrusting as deep as he possibly could into you, bottoming out before pulling back to go even deeper. “You’re so fucking tight.”

His name escaped your lips in strangled gasps as you sank your nails into his shoulder blades, overwhelmed by the warm air licking at your burning flesh, the pleasant friction of the flowers and grass scratching your back beneath you, of Ajax’s cock thrusting ruthlessly into the depths of your slick walls as you rocked against his brutal rhythm. 

The lewd sounds of wet skin against wet skin created a beautiful, sinful harmony with the wind whistling through the trees, filling you with a brightness that outshone the lantern lights sailing through the sky above, a destructive flame roaring to life within as you hurdled toward your climax.

Ajax growled a dark, thundering sound that sent shivers through you, making your walls clench even tighter around him. You could feel he was close, too—his muscles stiffening, his pace becoming more erratic and desperate. 

“Cum, baby, cum,” Ajax breathed in your ear as you babbled incoherently, your stomach tensing and tensing with pleasure, “Let yourself go, I got you, I always got you.”

And so you let yourself become undone. 

Vibrant, blinding colors spotted your vision as your orgasm seared through you, your bones melting away with what was left of your senses. Ajax unraveled too, long ropes of his cum coating your walls in its warmth and he bit down on your shoulder, burying the sounds of his release into your skin as his rutting into you slowed down. 

You vaguely felt the pain, but you might as well be weightless, your soul soaring away with the lanterns floating in the sky.

You felt Ajax’s love weep out of you, dribbling languidly down your thigh, wetting the earth beneath you. Ajax’s face swam into view, lovingly flushed. He collected his seed seeping from you with his fingers, spreading it around on your battered folds. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, entranced. “Beneath me where you belong, all my cum leaking out of you…”

Through the haze of your vision, you could see your blood blotted on Ajax’s mouth like a crimson cloud, and he licked the ichor from his lips as if were berry juices. 

tags: @tetsuskei ✦ @houseofsolisoccasum ✦ likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, i hope you enjoyed <3

Hi my loves, how are you? I hope good! ♡

I am not one to share my personal life, preferring to keep things to myself until they become a reality. I am a firm believer that as long as you work silently towards your goals, they'll surely come to fruition. However, I'd like to share with you that I am in the final stages of completing my aeronautical course and my educational institution is offering a "jungle survival training". The costs are ok but there are still obstacles such as transport costs to the local that affect my pocket.

Therefore, I decided to join the ko-fi community. Don't feel pressured or obligated to leave a tip. My work will still be free for EVERYONE. ALWAYS. It's just an alternative form of support. After all, your reading, favorites, reblogs, messages and comments already make my day in an inexplicable way. I am truly lucky to be surrounded by so many incredible people!

Thank you for being here! ♡ ♡

I thought it would be an hour of listening to screaming and looking at pictures of draculas, but it was so much for frightening than fathomed

i know a ton of you are jessie fans (why else would you be following me she's all i draw). jessie's voice actress from OS, Rachael Lillis, is currently battling cancer and could use some help 💗 such a talented human being and voice for many iconic characters! im so inspired by her (clearly) and glad i had the privilege of meeting her this year

gofundme.com

Donate to Help my sister Rachael with medical needs., organized by Laurie Orr

Hello everyone. I’m trying to raise some funds for my sister Rachael Lillis who … Laurie Orr needs your support for Help my sister Rachael w

Boycott hoyoverse, please.

I used to be a big genshin impact lore buff, i played, i read, i was on forums, i made fanart, and then i was deeply disrespected by the game itself (this post is about natlan)

I am brazilian and i follow a religion named candomblé. Long story short, its from yoruba people who were sent to brazil as slaves, then went through a big process of spreading out to not just black people, but light-skinned people of lower classes like my family. We believe in the creation by Olorum, the power of Axé, and the Orixás.

Natlan, as of now, has two characters named Iansan and Ororon. These names come from not just the yoruba predecessors of candomblé, but also the religion itself, the Orixá deities Iansã and Olorum.

My religion, my deities. My mother's deities. The statuettes in my house. Their names are recycled cheaply to be used trivially. Never have we of candomblé ever gotten mentioned by AAA games or films that give such attention to detail like Genshin does, and we are disrespected. Our Gods are used like rags for someone's profit to be thrown away, washed out. They do not convey our beauty, our grit, our wonder, they do not convey us but they profit from us.

People love to tell us that it is just a game, but think again: games are not entitled to disrespect us just because of their nature. We are entitled to complain, to scream, because this is cruelty. You brutalize our image, butcher our names, for what?

When I was younger, I used to look at games with religious imagery very curiously. It was always weird to see the faith of the people I know be used for aesthetic reasons or just because it looks cool. The same has now happened to me, but times worse. People will say anything to justify this mockery and throw excuses to keep playing the product of a corporation that won't ever understand what it means to be us.

Boycott, complain, scream, because I will do it too. I regret the time I invested in playing, in reading, in watching, in dedicating myself to something that would never do me justice. It is not expensive to change a character's name, not even talking about the model. I don't plan on re-entering the fandom while it still lies unaware of the gross source material's true colors. Candomblé is not mythology, it's faith. We are alive. We have existed for centuries and will continue to grow, despite the challenges we face.

how to tame a fox — kamisato ayato

somehow, you manage to catch the menace that’s been nibbling away at the plants in your garden—it’s not exactly what you’d expect, however. and the culprit is determined to stick close to you, too

before you read: fem reader ; fox hybrid ayato ; sly and playful ayato and tired and grumpy reader ; banter ; reader as a garden ; reader sprays ayato with a hose

notes: ari and risu said he’d be a fox hybrid and i think they’re very right

Something has been eating at your garden—something cunning and clever. Your berries have dwindled, your vegetables are harvested before you have the chance, and your carefully kept little plants are a mess.

You think it’s bunnies at first, but bunnies are not smart enough to skillfully work around the netting you’ve set around each plant to keep them safe from trespassing paws.

Which begs the question—just what is so conniving enough to be so good at getting to your garden, and how on earth are you going to catch it?

You don’t have to ponder on the question for too long.

It’s dark when you open your door to wander into your backyard—the moon is full, and you’d like to appreciate the sky and the stars for a bit from the comfort of your own yard.

Until you notice the pair of eyes staring back at you, that is. You let out a piercing shriek, grabbing the first thing you can get a hold of. (It’s a hose—the same hose you use to water the plants that keep getting eaten against your wishes.)

“What in the gods names—” you gasp, jumping back as the creature—no, man flinches at your presence. “Who are you?” You hold up the hose like a threat, and his nose wrinkles in amusement.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” The man rises from where he’s knelt, and you notice the strawberries he’s picked, held in his hand.

And then you realize he’s not just a man—no, there’s two pairs of long, fluffy ears over his head and a bushy tail that waves around behind him. His eyes gleam with a sort of mischief you don’t like.

“What am I doing in my garden?” You ask incredulously, “the better question is what are you doing with my strawberries? Don’t you see the nets I’ve covered them with to keep animals away?”

“I’m not an animal,” he gasps offended, “and yes, these nets have caused quite the troublesome experience for me. My tail gets caught in them often.”

You spray him belligerently, earning a surprised grunt from him as he jumps back at the impact of the water, dropping the berries he’s collected.

“How dare you harvest my vegetables?” You ask in disbelief, “I’ve been trying to keep you away for weeks.”

“Hey,” he cries, “cut that out! I don’t appreciate my fur getting wet, you awful woman!”

“Awful?” You parrot, offended. “How am I awful when you’re the one eating my garden?”

“You have plenty of things,” he huffs as you finally stop spraying him, shaking the water out of his ears as he grumpily eyes his tail. “Sharing is a wonderful virtue to have, you know. Especially for poor, cold, young men like me.”

“You’re nothing but a scoundrel,” you correct, hands on your hips. “Now shoo! Off my property before I call someone to make you leave. And don’t let me catch you here again!”

You spray him one last time for good measure before turning to enter your home when you feel a presence behind you, making you whip around to see what it is. Sure enough, the tall, slender man with an awfully troublesome glint in his eyes is face to face with you, his ears twitching excitedly as he leans in to get a better look at your face.

You get a much better look at him now—pale blue hair and deep purple eyes, a small mole below the left corner of his lip, and, the most noticeable detail, his pale blue ears that are drenched with wet fur. He’s handsome, in an annoying sort of way.

You almost—almost—itch to scratch at his ears, but logic and reason tell you this is the same man who’s been stealing from your garden. Your hard earned plants that you cared for delicately and diligently. And he’s enjoyed the fruits of your labor without so much as a care.

You watch as his tail waves behind him, bushy and thick even with wet fur.

“It’s awfully cold out here tonight,” he murmurs with a pouty look, “and you’ve drenched my poor fur, too.”

“It’ll dry,” you say blandly.

He pouts further, tilting his head as he argues, “not before the cold air gets me sick and shivering. Perhaps I could spend the night in your warm home—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, furiously planting your hands on your hips as you glare at him, “what makes you think I’ll be letting the very person who’s stolen from me into my home?”

“Stolen is a very harsh word,” he gasps, hand over his chest as though the accusation shocks him—maybe even mildly offends him. “I was borrowing the goods you’ll grow back eventually.”

“The season is almost over!” You says frustratedly.

“There’s always next year,” he hums, “it’s good to help those in need, you know.”

“I don’t even know you,” you try again, pursing your lips as you grow tired of the back and forth.

“I’m Ayato,” he beams. He seems almost proud of his problem solving skills. “There, now you do.”

“You don’t need me to help you,” your patience is wearing thin, and faintly, you realize he’s right. It is cold. You’d like to get inside as quickly as possible and warm up the prickling goosebumps along your skin. “You’ve made it this far just fine. Evidently.”

“But I have no one, you see,” he sniffles petulantly, “my parents have long passed and I’m just lonely and on my own. Nowhere to go,” he leans closer, pout deepening as he bats his lashes.

And, well…he’s sort of cute. Far too old to use the parent excuse, you want to scoff, but it’s a cute effort all the same. You realize he’s not going to leave you alone, either, so it’s best just to let him in for the night and promptly escort him off your premises in the morning.

Yes, that’s right, you think resolutely, this will only be until the morning.

“You can stay for the night and only just the night—”

“Marvelous!” He brightens, cutting you off. You realize a little too late you might making a huge mistake when he swiftly moves past you, walking through the door of your home and inviting himself in before you can properly allow him permission.

Sly as a fox, you think agitatedly. You should have realized that much from the get go.

When you walk into your home, he’s already looking around, touching this and that, humming in approval and disapproval as though he’s in any place to judge the arrangements of your home.

“Hm, yes, very nice,” he says dryly, eyeing your interior. Your eyes twitches. “I suppose it shall do.”

“I’m sure it’s infinitely better than the outdoors,” you scowl, “I would count my blessings, if I were you. And don’t get used to it—you’ll be leaving in the morning.”

He grins smoothly—like he knows something you don’t, like there’s mischief already brewing in that quick-thinking little brain of his.

“Won’t you be a dear and dry my fur?” He saunters back over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling it to his ears to guide your hand along the dampness of his coat. You gasp at the gesture slightly, stiffening under his touch as he pouts. “I hate wet fur, you know.”

“Surely, you can use a towel and dryer yourself,” you deadpan. “I’ll grab them for you—”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to break anything,” he insists. “Perhaps you should just do it for me.”

Well, his cunning little scheme is at least abundantly obvious this time, you think. So he craves a little affection, someone to handle the matter of grooming his fur for him. It’s a bit troublesome, but you suppose you can let it slide if it gets him to be quiet and leave you alone for the night.

“Fine,” you concede, sighing tiredly as he perks up at your response.

He follows you, silent, but evidently pleased as you gather a dry towel and the blow dryer before settling on the edge of hour bed.

To your surprise, he settles on the floor, tucking himself against your leg as his cheek rests on your thigh. You blink down at him.

“Go on then,” he hums, “I do like when it when I’m scratched behind my ears. And make sure you use the warmest setting there is, I don’t like the cold. And don’t hold it too close to my ears—I’m a bit sensitive to sound, you see.”

“Are you usually this demanding with all the people you steal from?” You snap, raising an unimpressed brow.

He grins, nuzzling against your thigh before he gives you a sweet, innocent look as he murmurs, “only the ones who keep me in their homes.”

Something tells you he’s not going anywhere, and something tells you that when morning comes, he’ll have yet another scheme to stay indoors—just like a sly, conniving fox would manage to. Oddly enough, when your fingers gently brush through the fur as you dry the dampness away with the warm air of the dryer, the way he nuzzles closer grows on you. Just a little.

You’ll still find a way to get him to leave you alone eventually—and your garden, too. Until then, though, perhaps you can allow yourself to scratch behind his ears just a few times.

Foxes are nocturnal so you know that was about to be a longgggg night