#WHY DID HE LICK HIS TEETH FOR SO LONG AFTER THAT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dearieshima · 17 days ago

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determined

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷feat. xavier is determined to get your virginity before leaving philos.

His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you open for his relentless assault. "Look at how deep I am," he panted, watching as he pistoned in and out of your tightness. "Look how well we fit together."

c.w spoilers to xavier's myth, dubcon, groping, scummy!xavier, coercion/manipulation, cherry popping, handjob, fingering, licking fingers after jizzing on them, jealousy, 4k+ words, halfway proofread

On the night of Xavier’s Gladius ceremony, he returned to the palace with a newly discovered understanding. Amidst the celebration, he pulled his father, the king, aside for a private conversation. He presented an irregular protocore to his father, its life force still pulsating in his hand.

“Shouldn't the protocore warrant a formal inspection?” Xavier asked, voice laced with suspicion.

“The lightblade deemed you worthy,” his father replied dismissively, his fingers absently tracing the protocore.

Xavier pressed, “Is there no need for formalities? Or are you unwilling? A heart was once in this protocore–am I mistaken?”

A flicker of tension tightened the king's jaw as he pocketed the protocore. “...I knew you'd catch on.”

The king immediately caught Xavier off, witnessing the disgust in his son’s eyes. “However, it is a necessary duty of the crown prince. It is also the king's responsibility.”

Xavier's mouth widened, and for a minute he stood there in silence. He then turned sharply, storming out without looking back, ignoring his father’s calls. His decision was already made.

He strode into the crowded hall, hoping to shake off his father’s gaze when he spotted you. His eyes darkened.

You were laughing at a joke some man had made, holding a flute of champagne. The dress you wore barely skimmed your knees, and Xavier noticed the man's eyes were fixed and imaginative, longing to see it up to your stomach.

You were a lamb among a den of wolves. If he left too soon, the pack would descend upon your fresh meat. He couldn't leave Philos without sinking his teeth into you first, marking you as his territory to warn others until his return.

He maneuvered toward you, brushing off congratulatory pats and embraces along the way. At one point, Jeremiah slung an arm around his shoulders, only to be harshly shrugged off, as Xavier’s focus remained locked on you. Jeremiah noticed his gaze and, not wanting to interfere, took a long sip of champagne and slipped away.

When Xavier finally reached you, he wrapped a hand firmly around your arm, his eyes flashing a silent warning to the other man.

“Come with me.”

"Hm? Why?”

Xavier's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. Did you not notice how the other man had been ogling you?

“I have something I need to show you. It's urgent.”

Without waiting for a response, he guided you out of the ballroom, his hand gripping your arm firmly. He guided you out of the ballroom and steered you through the corridor of the palace, his steps determined and purposeful. His hand remained on your arm, his grip firm and possessive. When you reached his room, he ushered you inside.

You perched on his bed, still holding your champagne, swinging your legs. “So?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you twirled the drink in your hands. “What’s so urgent?”

Xavier shut the door with a soft click, then slowly turned to face you, a strange expression on his face. He reached over, took the flute from your hand, and placed it on his dresser. “Don’t drink that.”

You frowned, almost pouting. “Hey!”

He ignored your protest, “he could’ve slipped something into it.”

He strode to the window, pausing. “Besides, I want you clear-headed for what I’m about to show you, that's so urgent.” He pulled open the curtains, revealing a brilliant, star-studded sky. The sight drew you to your feet, and you stepped over, awestruck.

Xavier stood close behind you to make space. His chest brushed against your back as he rested his chin on your head, his warm breath fanning over your hair.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he whispered, voice low in your ear. He pointed upward, guiding your gaze. “See? Just above the dipper—that’s the star of our planet.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you spotted the tiny glimmer in the sky, remembering your talks about eloping there. You’d joked about it, but seeing it now made your heart ache with a longing. “It’s beautiful…”

Xavier chuckled, the low sound making your skin tingle. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your body was pressed flush against his.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding wildly. “X-Xavier…”

He held you tighter, his hand splaying across your waist. "You should be more careful," he murmured. "Don't you realize how many men in there were looking at you the same way I was?”

“The way you…?”

“—Like a piece of meat.” He was unaware he was contradicting himself. “You're too naive and innocent, and they were preying on it. If I hadn't taken you away..."

He leaned down, his lips just inches away from yours. He hesitated, as though he might ask permission, a question lingering in his darkening gaze. It died as he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a gentle yet assertive kiss. He drew you closer, his tongue exploring with confident ease.

He was desperate; you could feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way he kissed you as if he was starved for you.

You melted into the kiss, your hands lifting to cradle his face.

Encouraged by your response, he gently lowered you back onto the bed, his forehead resting against yours as he followed you down. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the deep, unspoken yearning in his touch.

“Xavier—” Your protest was cut off as he deepened the kiss, his lips capturing your voice, drowning any resistance as he poured himself into the moment.

You was a bit tipsy, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, making you pliant beneath his touch. Xavier's lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a blazing path of desire on your flushed skin. He pushed you down, straddling your hips as he drank in the sight of you splayed out before him.

“X-Xavier…?”

Your clothes were rumpled, your hair tousled, your cheeks stained with a becoming flush. Xavier swallowed hard, his pulse racing as he finally had you right where he wanted you. This was what he'd been fantasizing about, dreaming of, for so long. And now, with you soft and willing beneath him, he couldn't hold back any longer.

His hands roamed your curves, slipping beneath your clothing to caress the silky skin beneath. He needed to feel you, all of you, with no barriers between you both. His fingers found the zipper of your dress and tugged it down but you pushed his chest, knocking him out of his delusion.

He blinked, as if surprised you would do that.

"What's the matter?" He murmured, his voice gruff. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, pushing it up, revealing more of your skin.

"X-Xavier..." You repeated, flushed. You scooted further into the bed, away from him until your back pressed against the headboard.

He followed, his hand slowly trailing back up your thigh, sending shivers through your body. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice coaxing. "No one has to know. It can be our little secret." His fingers reached the hem of your dress, slowly inching it up.

“N-No…” you stammered, reaching down to hold your skirt in place. “I… I don’t…”

Xavier’s face fell, his fingers curling into the fabric, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You don’t want this?” he asked, voice low. “I though…–You were kissing me.”

“You kissed me back, you let me…” he continued, his voice trailing off as he looked away, shoulders slumping. “Why did you let me, just to pull away?”

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I… I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought… it was just a kiss. Then it got too fast…”

"Too fast? Why was it too fast?" He glanced up, his brows knitted in frustration. "We've known each other for a while. We're alone. Why are you acting so shy all of a sudden?”

"I, I don't know..." I whimpered. "I don't... I don't know... Xavier, I…”

"You don't know, you don't know," he repeated. "You've been teasing me all this time, sending me mixed signals. And now, when I'm finally giving you what you want, you're pushing me away?”

You opened your mouth but closed it again, struggling to find the right words. “Xavier, it’s not… I just… You’re a prince…”

His lips pressed together, eyes dimming, reminded of the title he hated. "I'm a prince, so what?" His voice was soft, almost resigned. "Do you think that means I can't have you? That I don't have any feelings? That I can't desire you like any man would?”

“It’s not that… you're just…” you stammered, cheeks heating. “You’re meant for someone else, Xavier…”

"Someone else? Who are you to decide that? I don't want someone else, I want you. I've always wanted you." His expression softened, though his frustration was clear. He traced circles with his thumb on your foot. "Don't you want me?”

You bit your lip, finally looking up at him. “I… I like you, Xavier. More than… than I probably should.”

“Then why push me away?” he asked, voice thick with disappointment. “If you like me… then let me have you.”

“I… I don’t know, Xavier…”

He sighed. "You don't know again. Why don't you know?”

"Because I'm scared, Xav…”

"You're scared?" he echoed, his eyes softening. "Scared of what? Me?” Perhaps you've heard the rumors of him frightening away any students who showed interest in you; his father who showed an interest in your heart.

"N-No, that's not true," you pouted, fumbling nervously with your fingers. "I... I've never done it... This before... I…”

"So... you're scared because it's your first time?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat. “Yes…”

He remained silent for a moment, his fingers lightly caressing your hand. "I didn't know," he whispered, though it was a lie. In truth, he was well aware. It was he who had kept you pure, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim your innocence for himself. He would never allow another man to take what rightfully belonged to him.

“But Xavier… I’m not sure I’m ready…”

His body tensed again at your refusal. He wanted you, and he was determined to ease your hesitation.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring. "You like me, I like you. You don’t want anyone else, and neither do I. Wouldn't it feel right to do it with someone who’s been by your side your whole life, someone you love and could trust, instead of a stranger?"

He held your gaze, "those other men... they wouldn't take care of you like I would. They wouldn't be gentle–they wouldn't take their time with you. They'd just use you, Y/N.”

In your silence, Xavier took it as a small victory. Seeing you listening to him, processing his words, gave him hope that he was getting through to you, that you were listening to his reasoning. He pushed forward, continuing in a low, husky tone.

"They wouldn't treasure you like I would. They wouldn't make love to you the way I would. They wouldn't want to... to protect you, and cherish you, like I do.”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, feel nervousness in your body as his fingers continued their path up your thigh, caressing your skin softly. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his voice a low plea.

"Please... let me show you what it could be like... with me.”

Xavier's lips slowly melded into yours, breaking the final barrier of your resolve. His tongue brushed softly against your lips, testing, seeking entry as he drew you deeper into the kiss, making it clear he wanted all of you. When your mouth opened, he slipped in without hesitation, claiming the moment entirely. He explored each part of your mouth, tasting and savoring, leaving no doubt of his intent. His body pressed against yours, his weight grounding you, pinning you with a warmth that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin. He gripped your hips, pulling you closer to him, as if trying to merge your bodies into one.

He could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, the way your hands clung to his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself. He reveled in your response, the way you whimpered and mewled in his mouth, the way your body reacted to his every touch.

The heat of his mouth seared your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, each one more intense than the last. Your head lolled back, giving him better access as he nipped and sucked, marking you as his. The sting of his teeth on your sensitive flesh sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

His hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency, as if he couldn't get enough of you. They slid under your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts. You gasped as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

"G-Gentle…" you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice rough. "I'll make it up to you."

His hands roamed your curves, one cupping your breast through the silky material. With a swift tug, he pulled the dress and your bra down, freeing your breasts from their confines. They spilled out, immediately pebbling without the warmth of your bra.

His eyes darkened with lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head to capture a nipple between his lips. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

His other hand came up to massage your neglected breast, kneading the soft flesh. He switched between your peaks, lavishing each one with attention until you were writhing against him, desperate for more.

Xavier released your breast with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. He trailed kisses up your chest, between your breasts, along your collarbone, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours as he deepened the kiss.

One hand tangled in your hair, angling your head to give him better access. The other slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, before dipping between your thighs. He cupped your mound, his fingers rubbing slow circles over your clothed sex, inciting a hiss from you.

"You're so wet already," he smiled, his voice a low murmur.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips to assist him, the cool air infiltrating from the open window hitting your heated skin. “X-Xavier…”

He smiled as he saw how wet you were. He spread your legs apart and ran his hand along your inner thigh, spreading them wider. "So pretty," he whispered, his eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making you jump.

“Relax," he whispered, his voice gentle. His touch became firmer, his thumb slowly rubbing circles over your hot, swollen nub. He watched your face intently, memorizing every gasp, every flush of your cheeks, every dilation of your pupils. "Have you touched yourself before?"

You nodded.

"Show me," he demanded, his voice low. He wanted to see what you liked, what you didn't. He wanted to know everything. He brought his other hand up to play with your breasts, pinching and rolling your peaks as he continued to toy with your core.

You peered up at him incredulously. "Xavier…–!"

"Please," he whispered. "I want to know. I want to know what you like, what feels good. Show me, please." His touch was hentley, coaxing.

Slowly, tentatively, your hand drifted downward, brushing over the soft curls at the apex of your thighs. Xavier's breath hitched as you parted your folds, revealing the glistening pink flesh beneath. "That's it," he encouraged, his gaze locked on your movements.

Your thighs clamped shut around your plunging fingers, but Xavier forcefully pried them apart. "Keep them spread," he instructed.

You let out a desperate whine, groping your breast as you frantically pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping slit.

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes never leaving your hand. "Add another finger. Stretch yourself for me."

"I-I can't..." you protested weakly.

He nodded his head as he slowly pushed one of his alongside yours, stretching you deliciously wide. "Yes you can," he breathed. His digit trailed down to join yours, stroking that spongy sweet spot deep inside. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around the stretch.

"Right there?" he asked, his voice low. He crooked his fingers inside of you, pressing against that spot over and over again. He watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you gasped. "Come for me.”

Your back arched off the bed as ecstasy crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as you reached your peak.

His dark eyes were transfixed, watching with rapt attention as his hand worked you through your release, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the sheets, spent and trembling. Slowly, he withdrew your slick finger from your dripping core and brought them to his lips. His tongue darted out, curling around your fingers as it lapped your essence, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

He leaned down and kissed you hard, his tongue sliding into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. His hands flung to his pants and began to unfasten his belt with eagerness.

As his pants fell away, your eyes widened at the sight of his impressive manhood standing at full attention. The swollen head glistened with pearlescent drops of precum, the color a striking contrast to the milky smoothness of his skin. Prominent veins ran along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. He was magnificent, a work of art sculpted by stars itself.

"Sit up.”

You complied, your movements languid as you propped yourself up on your knees. Your breasts swayed enticingly with the motion, nipples pebbled and begging for attention. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily, drinking in every curve and valley.

He took your hand and guided it to his throbbing member, wrapping your fingers around his impressive girth. "Touch me," he breathed, "like this.” He showed you, moving your hand up and down his length.

As your fingers closed around him, he let out a low groan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. "Just like that," he encouraged.

You swallowed hard, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. "Is this okay?" You asked softly, his length growing even harder in your grip.

"Squeeze a little tighter," he instructed, his voice strained with pleasure.

Focusing intently, you squeezed just as he asked, marveling at the way his shaft pulsed in your palm. Your eyes were glued to where your hand met his flesh, watching in fascination as you pumped him, his swollen head disappearing and reappearing with each stroke.

He hissed through his teeth, his head falling back. "Just like that," he praised. His hips jerked forward, his body tensing. "Harder," he groaned. He brought your other hand up to play with his balls, showing you how to gently roll and squeeze them.

He gripped your wrist, his breathing growing ragged. "Keep...keep doing that," he hissed. He thrust into your hands, his movements growing jerky. "I'm… I'm going to..." He broke off, his whole body convulsing as he came in your hands.

He threw his head back, tendons straining in his neck as he gulped. Releasing your hand, he gripped his own thighs, fingers digging into the firm flesh.

You gazed at your palm, glistening with his copious release. Mimicking his earlier actions, you brought your hand to your lips, tongue swirling around your fingers to lap up every drop of his thick, salty essence.

His eyes were riveted on your display. With a sigh, he asked you to lay back once more. Seizing your hips, he yanked you towards him, his face flushed and debauched, mouth agape. He reached out and gently spread your thighs, stepping between them, the swollen head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance.

“Condoms…!” You cried out, “Xavier, what about–”

"Shh, don't worry about that now," he said. "I'll pull out, I promise.”

His hungry gaze raked over your quivering form, committing every dip and swell to memory. "Don't look so nervous," he crooned. “I'm right here.”

"Be gentle..." You breathed. “Please.”

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. You were adorable. "I'll be gentle.”

His fingers delved between your thighs, parting your slick folds to reveal your glistening entrance. He groaned at the sight. "So pretty.”

He then rubbed his thick head against your wetness, coating himself with your fluids. He pressed against your hole, his hips slowly pushing forward. He watched your face, his own contorted in concentration. "Breathe in," he instructed softly.

And before you actually could, he thrusted in.

“A-Ah!”

Tears streamed down your face as he gradually pushed deeper into your tight heat. He paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to his impressive girth stretching you open. His fingers tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping away the salty drops. "You're doing so well," he praised softly. "Just a little more." With one powerful thrust, he hilted himself fully inside you, breaking through your barrier.

A sharp cry escaped your lips at the sudden sting of pain mixed with overwhelming fullness. Your nails dug into the sheets as you gripped them for dear life. "Wait... ngh... I can't..." you whimpered, trembling beneath him.

Xavier captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries. "Shh, you're okay. I'm all the way inside now," he murmured against your lips. He held still, letting you adjust to the intense new sensations as your body stretched to accommodate him. "Open your eyes. Focus on me and you'll forget the pain."

"Hmgh..."

He began to set at a slow, rhythmic pace, his hips gently rocking against yours. He grunted each time he bottomed out inside you. "Look at me," he commanded gruffly. "Open your eyes and look at me." He reached out and gently tilted your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Your body clenched around him, the initial sting of pain gradually melting away into waves of pleasure. A breathy moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself surrender to the newer sensations.

Xavier's face tightened, and his head fell forward between his shoulders. "God, when you do that…" he hissed through gritted teeth. He continued to pump his hips, his rhythm growing faster. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed hoarsely. "I'm gonna go a little faster."

You complied and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer. When he mentioned he was going to pick up the pace, you weren't prepared for the relentless pounding that followed.

Bracing himself on his hands, he began to ruthlessly slam into you over and over again. Leaning down, he claimed your mouth in a rough, dominating kiss, muffling your desperate moans. His hips moved like a machine, driving into you with animalistic cruelty.

"G-Gentle...! Mgh–! P-Please!" you whimpered against his lips.

But Xavier was lost in his own pleasure, ignoring your pleas as he continued his merciless assault on your body. "You can handle it," he huffed. Gripping your hips, he adjusted your position, allowing him to plunge even deeper inside you. "You're too tight… I'll be gentle after I'm finished breaking you in."

"X-Xavier…! Xav–Ngh!"

He reached between your legs and grabbed your wrists, pulling them above your head as he continued to ravage you. His face was a mask of intense concentration as he continued to thrust into you, his hips moving like a piston. "You're so loud," he hissed, his voice thick with passion.

"Xavier! Xavier!"

His thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before he hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders and folded you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each powerful stroke. Your back arched off the bed as your arms wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin. A strangled moan tore from your throat.

"It's too much… please... please..." You babbled, your voice hitching with every thrust to your cervix. "Xavier... it hurts…!"

"It's supposed to," he grunted. "It feels good, though, right? Just bear it a little more. I'm almost done." He let your legs drop, pushing your knees to your chest as he pounded into you.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving long, ten crimson trails in their wake. Xavier grunted in pain, his face contorting as he thrust into you harder. "Mark me all you want," he huffed. "I'll mark you right back." He buried his face in your neck and bit down hard, sucking on your skin as he continued to thrust into you.

"Ahh! Yes! Fuck!" you cried out, your words dissolving into incoherent babble. "You prom–eh…! you promised…!”

Xavier's eyes were closed, his face buried in your neck as he fucked you without a care in the world. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed in the room, mixing with your screams and pleas. "God… fuck, fuck," he chanted to himself, his voice muffled against your skin.

"You're so meannnn," you whimpered, drawing out the word as a sob caught in your throat.

Xavier's eyes flashed, dark and feral, as he lifted his head. "I'm mean?" he growled, voice dripping with mock hurt. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you flush against him. "You're the one getting off on this, aren't you? I can feel how wet you are." To punctuate his point, he reached between your legs and rubbed your clit roughly, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

He gripped your chin firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his intense stare. "Look at me," he commanded, voice low and dominant. "I want to see those eyes glazed when I make you come undone. When I claim every inch of you as mine.”

Xavier groaned, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. "You're gonna make such a pretty mess."

The words were like a match to gasoline, igniting the inferno raging inside you. With a keening cry, you shattered, your walls clamping down and bursting as ecstasy consumed you.

Xavier's eyes widened as he felt your walls clench around him, your orgasm triggering his own. "Ah! Yes…–yes!" he cried, his hips stuttering. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed spurting against your cervix.

Xavier let out a low groan, his body trembling as he filled you. His grip on your thighs loosened, his hand caressing the marked skin gently. As he came down from his high, Xavier's pace slowed, his hips rolling forward in shallow thrusts as he milked the last of his release into you.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the world fading away until only the pulsing pleasure remained. With a final shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your consciousness slipping away.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you went limp beneath him. He peppered your face with gentle kisses, his touch at odds with the rough way he'd just taken you. "Shh, sleep now," he murmured softly, "You did so well.”

As much as he didn’t want to leave, he gently began to slip out of bed, his body trembling, spent. He pulled the blankets up around you, making sure you were wrapped warmly before crossing the room to close the window. Quietly, he turned to his closet, carefully reaching for his lightseeker uniform and slipping it on, moving with a gentle but determined grace.

He searched for his sword, finally spotting the star-tasseled handle hidden under the bed. Just as he reached for it, he felt a soft weight on his head, your hand, draped sleepily over him.

He froze, worried he might've woken you–worried he would have to explain he wasn't abandoning, but saving you–, but then you let out a soft, contented snore, and he couldn’t help but smile. Slowly, he lifted your hand, pressing a tender kiss to the back before leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead, damp with extertion.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I love you.”

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bunnis-monsters · 1 month ago

Text

Shark Week

Male!Shark Hybrid x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 14th

Oct 13

Oct 15

summary: you decide to visit your boyfriend even while you’re still cramping and on your period… not knowing that he’d turn into a feral beast at the sight and scent of your blood.

warnings: reader is on their period, pussy eating, blood, belly bulge, breeding, two cocks, double penetration

Requests are closed, but my commissions are open!

When you showed up to the beach in a pair of lounge shorts and a tanktop instead of your usual bathing suit, he knew something was up.

He swam up, settling on a rock a few yards from the shoreline, observing you as you scanned the water to find him.

Before you could spot him, he ducked below the waves, only his dorsal fin poking out of the water.

It was the late afternoon, and next to no one was at the beach. If you squinted, you thought you saw a figure a ways down, but you couldn’t be sure.

So that means you and him would most likely be… alone.

You yelped when he popped up a few yards away from you, quickly swimming up and waiting for you to wade in.

“Hey…”

He tilted his head when you stayed on the shore, his dark eyes blinking before he smiled. Those sharp teeth used to terrify you, but now you ended up smiling back.

“Coming in?”

This made you sigh. Truly, you really wanted to go swim with him and spend time together… but you knew how sharks worked.

Mostly,

“Not today… can we just talk from here?”

He paused, his smile fading. “… why? You don’t want to touch me today?”

“No, no sweetheart it isn’t that-“

Your lover sulked, his tail swishing in the water as if he were a disappointed puppy. “No hugs?”

Your lip wobbled before your legs moved on their own. You found yourself waist deep in the water in seconds, your lover letting out a surprised grunt before curling his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

It didn’t take long for him to sense the blood in the water. His eyes went black, his grip tightening on your waist as he buried his face into your neck.

“Blood… were you hurt? Who did this?”

He growled lowly, his vision getting a bit blurry. “You have to get out of the water, I can’t control m-“

“I w-wasn’t hurt…”

Although his mind felt fuzzy, he tried his best to listen to you, noticing you had turned shy and quiet.

“I’m… on my period. I’m uh… bleeding down there…”

He perked up, his black eyes moving down your body to your shorts.

His body went stuff, and he began to rut agaisnt your pathetically, struggling to control himself. All he wanted now was to taste your blood, to feed on you and properly stuff you full of cum.

“N-not here!” you yelped, glancing around the beach.

After whisking you away to a safe spot, he lifted his lower body out of the water, revealing his two cocks has poked out of his slit in excitement. But he didn’t fuck you yet, no, his eyes were on your fat, bloody cunt.

He glanced back up at you. The sight of his sharp teeth so close to your pussy was a bit alarming, and you were unsure what would happen when he went into a feeding frenzy while eating you out… but god, you knew a few orgasms would help with your cramps.

He lapped at your folds, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the taste of your blood. After that it was history.

His face was buried in your cunt, lewd moans es aping his lips as he slurped and licked up all of the blood he could, and in the process was making you cum like crazy.

When he pulled back to look up at you, most would consider a shark hybrid covered in blood terrifying, but you thought he looked adorable. All blissed out from devouring your blood, a hand pumping at one of his cocks as the other rutted against your leg…

He really wanted to be inside of you.

The hybrid was nearly 4 feet taller than you, easily towering over your chubby frame. It felt nice, feeling his neck nuzzle into you and purrs rumble from his chest as his cocks prodded at your cunt.

You had taken both before, and with all the orgasms, you were able to take both cocks easily. The stretch was always uncomfortable at first, but he did his best to ease you into it.

The sight of your blood staining his lower belly and two cocks had them twitching. After fucking into you like the wild animal he was, he came buckets, making your belly bulge from how full it was of his cum.

Sex with him was always exhausting, but especially now that you were on your period. As you drifted off to sleep, he made sure you were safe and warm before leaving to catch you some fish.

You were his mate after all, and you’d be carrying his shark pups soon… you would need lots of strength to bear his litter~

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

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mrsimpurity · 3 months ago

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belonging to old man logan…

cw: smut (p in v), oral sex (m receiving), cum play, daddy kink, age gap

not as in being a sex slave. you’re free to do whatever you want, of course… you just don’t want to. so all you do is hang around the cozy villa all day (often topless), the one that he bought just for the two of you, away from the city stress, and wait for him to come back from work.

“did you miss me, doll?” logan asks right after he shuts the front door, taking his suit jacket off. you’re throwing yourself at him already, popping the buttons on his dress shirt open. button by button, you start placing chaste kisses on his abs, making your way down to his pants as you sink down on your knees.

“eager today, are we?” logan looks down at you, smiling at the sight of his favorite little thing down on her knees, unzipping his pants with her teeth.

“mhm.” you mumble, now too busy with taking his cock out of his boxer briefs.

logan was sure that there was no better way to be greeted after a long and tiresome day. his cock was already at half-mast. just looking at you, so obedient and impatient, made him want to take you right then and there. but he’d let you have your fun, for now.

you spit on logan’s cock, taking your hand and smearing your saliva up and down his length. you start by tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue, looking up at him through your eyelashes. then you place kitten licks on the tip of his cock, where you know he’s most sensitive. logan grabs a handful of your hair and forces your mouth away.

“don’t. tease.” he hisses through his teeth. you apologetically place one last kiss on his girth and get to work, taking his entire length into your mouth. his hold on your hair remains, guiding you and increasing the speed as the warmthness of your mouth edges him towards his orgasm.

after a while, he stops you in your tracks with a tug of your makeshift ponytail. you whine, wondering why he’s suddenly pulling you away.

“it’s okay, doll. i know you wanna please daddy.” he speaks with a softer tone, pitying your pathetic expression. your eyes are glossy now and you’re pouting up at him. logan can’t help but get even harder. he picks you up by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, kicking the bedroom door open and setting you down on the bed moments later. you immediately know what you’re supposed to do - so you take your t-shirt off in one swift motion, and wiggle your way out of your shorts and panties.

“cmon, ass up, baby. ‘m getting impatient.” logan says, now completely discarding his dress shirt on the floor and doing the same with his pants and boxer briefs. you follow his command, getting on all fours on the bed. logan grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the fat lovingly. his fingers go to tease at your folds, rubbing up and down to find you soaking wet already.

“my girl’s always ready for me.” logan points out with a rub to your clit. your ears perk up at the praise and a small smile appears on your face as you wiggle your ass in the air, urging him to hurry up. he chuckles as he grabs his girth, giving it a few strokes before he eases his tip inside you, slowly sinking himself in your pussy. you’re always such a tight fit, like he’s fucking you for the first time, logan thinks to himself. with him getting older, it’s harder to keep up with your needs and impossibly high sex drive, but he tries to make it up to you on most nights, when he’s not too tired.

his thrusts start out slow, as they always do. he goes easy on you when he first enters you because he’s sure the sheer size of his cock is a tad bit painful for you. logan grabs a hold of your hips, picking up the pace as the sounds of his cock thrusting in you fill the room. his balls slap against your ass, your tits jiggling as logan pulls out and slams his cock in your pussy again and again. you moan and pant, back arching as your elbows soon give out from the vigor with which his hips roll against you. you fall face down on the pillows and your hand scrambles as you reach behind your back with a desperate whine. logan gets the hint and intertwines his fingers with yours as your velvety walls clench around him.

“i’m close.” you moan out, squeezing him harder, chasing that blissful moment of ecstasy. his thrusts don’t falter as his cock hits your g-spot repeatedly, making you whine out in pleasure.

“i know, doll. i can feel you.”

with a final thrust, you feel yourself cumming around logan’s cock, your pussy pulsating. the feeling of you clenching around him makes his thrusts get sloppier as his own orgasm approaches.

“you’re so good to me, baby.” logan says, grunting as he empties himself inside you, his warm cum filling your hole. the two of you stay like that for a moment, savoring the irreplaceable feeling of postcoital warmth. he pulls out after a while, his seed dripping out of your cunt. the sight is awfully erotic and you turn around at the feeling, only to see logan put his fingers inside you again. his digits, now covered in not only his cum, but yours, reach for your face. you don’t have to hear him say it to know what he wants. you open your mouth, allowing him to put his fingers inside. your tongue swirls around logan’s fingers, and you suck teasingly as he finally takes them out of your mouth with a “pop”, instead grabbing your face adoringly, rubbing soft circles on your cheekbone as a smile lights up your face.

“we taste really good.” you speak, now turning around to fully face him, knees still on the bed, as his frame towers above you.

logan grabs your nape and lowers his head down to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue entering your mouth and completely captivating you. it’s messy, it’s addicting, it’s everything, the feeling and taste of his cum and saliva filling your mouth.

“you’re right, doll.” logan murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss as a string of drool connects the two of you.

and in that moment, as he stares into your eyes, slowly caressing the back of your head, logan and you share a thought - “i don’t mind spending the rest of my days like this.”

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #old man logan

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pynkfairyheart · 7 months ago

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pairings: Connie x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, mentions of drugs

Birthday girl

“Wassup mami.” Connie greeted, eyes trailing over your body, your curves on full display in your outfit. “You look good.” He licked his lips, eyes looking you up and down once more before enveloping you in a hug.

“Thank you, Connie.” You cheesed. His usual scent of weed, lavender, and sage fueling your senses.

“I didn't know you were gonna be here.” He leaned in close to speak over the loud music playing throughout the house.

“What do you mean? This is my celebration.” You giggled.

“Whatchu mean ‘your celebration’? Did I miss something?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“It is my birthday Con.”

“Oh shit. Happy Birthday, mami” He hugged you again. “Why you ain't tell me? I woulda got you something.” He scolded.

“I figured you knew already because of Sasha. Plus you don’t need to get me anything. Especially since you never let me pay for my shit.” You rolled your eyes, though you were extremely grateful.

“Whatever. Ima get you something regardless.'' He kissed his teeth. “Is this your house?” He motioned to the large modern house, its lights dim and filled with your closest friends, loud music, liquor, and weed.

“It's my family's vacay home. Wanna tour?”

“Yeah, for sho.” Next thing he knew your hands were entwined as you showed him around the house. As the tour continued upstairs, Connie could feel the blood rushing to his dick. The sight of your ass peeking from your skirt as you walked up the stairs had him ready to get on his knees, and truth be told he didn't know whether it was to bury his face in between your thighs or ask to marry you.

“And then this is my room.” Your words brought him out of his trance.

“It's very you.” He walked around the room analyzing everything, from the pictures on your wall to the strawberry vanilla candle that was recently burned.

“In a good way?”

“Of course mami, everything about you is good.” He stood behind you as you took pictures in front of your large full-length mirror, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he posed with you.

“These are cute, Con” You gushed, as you swiped through the pictures.

“We look good together.” He mumbled.

“We do.” Your eyes locked. The energy shift was so quick you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Connie?…”

Connie had wanted you craved you since that night you asked him if he sold pre-rolls. He didn't, but you were just too pretty to say no to. Since then, he longed for something more than what you already had.

He had planned on asking you to be his numerous times. From the first time you sat in his passenger seat where you gushed about how much you loved his car to just two weeks ago on your usual late-night drives when neither of you could tell if the sexual tension was due to the sativa or the breaking point of all the intense eye contact and not so subtle touches you shared the past month. Neither of you acted on it but it no longer mattered anymore, he had the opportunity right now and he was going to take it.

“Lemme make you feel good.” He broke the silence. Large hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer.

“What?” You instinctively leaned into him, thoughts going fuzzy.

“I know you heard me.” He muttered into your neck, light pink lips littering kisses onto your neck.

“C-Con, what are you doing?” You bit back a moan as he sucked harshly on the spot that had your knees weak and panties soaked.

“Be truthful, ma. You thought about this before or nah?” He pulled away from his assault on your neck, admiring the faint mark forming on your brown skin before looking into your eyes.

“What about-”

“Just a yes or no mami.”

“...Yes”

“Do you want to do this?” His hands traveled to grip the soft flesh of your ass through your skirt

“Please.”

“Then let me take care of you. You're the birthday girl after all.” He whispered before his lips were on yours.

The kiss started slow and passionate, before his hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you off the ground like it was nothing. The kiss became needy and sloppy. Saliva mixing as his hands roamed the area of your ass before gently placing you on the edge of your bed.

“Connie” You panted.

“You're so beautiful” He groaned, kissing down your body, his tongue running over your exposed cleavage before he unbuttoned your top.

Immediately his mouth was back on the soft flesh sucking gently on your nipple while he pinched and rolled the other.

“Fuck, Con” You whined, looking down into his hazel eyes that were staring you down. Releasing your nipple with a pop he gave attention to the other, his tongue rapidly flicking over the nub.

When he was finally satisfied with your whimpers and whines he let up his assault on your breast, peppering a trail of kisses down your pudgy belly before completely undressing you.

“You're so damn pretty. You know that?” He kneeled in front of you before separating your thighs. “Fuck”

Connie swore he could feel himself get lightheaded by how fast the blood rushed to his dick. The sight of your pretty pussy having him on the verge of cumming in his pants. Your pretty brown lips glistened with your arousal, the prettiest pink he'd ever seen peeking out between your folds the wider he opened your legs.

“Con.” You whined, cool air breezing against your clit.

“I got you, ma.” He gently kissed your clit. It wasn't long before he needed more, fingers digging into your thighs as his tongue traced the outline of your clit before dipping inside your folds, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked on the bud.

“C-Connie shit.” Your hands traveled to his head, long acrylic nails running over his buzzcut to hold his head in place.

Letting one leg fall he replaced his lips with his thumb, rubbing tight circles on your clit, as his tongue teased your hole before diving deeper. Your walls immediately clenching onto his tongue.

“Fuck pa, oh my god.” You whined, hips bucking as you tried to push his head away though it was no use. He was pussy drunk, his tongue relentless as it slurped up your arousal before diving back into your spasming hole. “Fuck, Connie m’cumming.” Moans spilled from your lips at your release.

Despite your shaky legs and attempts to push his head away, Connie continued to lap at your pussy, slurping every last drop of cum before lifting his head.

“You taste like fucking heaven.” He groaned, kissing your inner thighs before standing. Not bothering to wipe his chin of your cum before taking his shirt off. His flexing muscles and ink-littered torso had you feening for more. “Fuck, turn around, ma.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips before flipping you around.

Your back arched, head resting on your arms. Connie couldn't resist the way your ass looked, kneading the soft flesh before landing a slap to your right cheek, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“What's your safe word mama?”

“Red.” You looked back, the sight of him spreading his pre-cum that leaked from his angry pink tip making your mouth water. He was big, at least 8 inches, thick, and fuck, it looked so heavy.

“Shit, m’gonna fill you up mami.” He slid his tip in between your folds, gathering your slick before lining up with your entrance.

“S-shit.” Connie let out a shaky breath as he sunk into your tight walls. “Fuck, relax, ma.” He could barely get his tip in without you squeezing him tight. “Breathe mami. I got you.” He gripped your hips sliding deeper into your soaked pussy, tip kissing your cervix once he fully rested inside you.

“Con.” You moaned, nails gripping the sheets tightly.

“I know mama.” He rubbed slow circles into your hips as he started to feed you slow deep strokes “Doing so good for me, look.” He tilted your head to the mirror. Your ass ricocheting off his hips with each thrust he delivered, his pace increasing.

“Fuck, Connie, please.” You moaned over the loud sounds of your pussy sucking him in and the claps of your ass.

Your words encouraged him to go faster. His hand wrapped around your throat, the pressure he applied mirroring the way your walls tightened around him.

“Ugh- fuck keep doing that nd imma put a baby in you.” He groaned. He was so deep, stretching you to full capacity. The repeated kissing of your cervix, having you see stars.

“Con I'm so- mhmmp I'm so close.” Connie could feel his balls tighten at your words. You were so addicting.

“Yeah? Gon head nd nut, mami. Let it go.” His eyes focused on where your bodies connected, a white sticky ring forming around the base of his dick.

“Shiiit” You moaned into the mattress, your walls spasming around his dick as you came, your cum dripping onto the mattress.

“Fuck” He groaned, his release following right after yours. Thick ropes of cum being shot deep inside you. He continued to give you slow strokes to ride out your orgasms before pulling out. After taking the time to clean you up he got you settled in bed, the party long forgotten as he rubbed soothing shapes onto your hip, giving you soft sloppy kisses as you drifted off to sleep.

“Happy Birthday mami.”

pt.2

had to do something for my baby connie also ik fuck was used a lot im sorry lol buuuuttt i like to think I'm getting better at this but idk y'all tell me.

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hoshigray · 11 months ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone.

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself.

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully.

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question.

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby?

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top.

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out.

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well.

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip.

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.”

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile.

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material.

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

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allfearstofallto · 5 months ago

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Devout

Yandere! Childe x Fem,Nun! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Noncon, lots and lots of mentioning of religion, reader is a virgin, yandere, obsession, unprotected sex, finishing inside

Heavenly. What an on the nose way to describe you. Dressed head to toe in loose fitting, religious garb, your hair covered. All he could see was the skin of your hands and that heavenly face.

Such a sweet, welcoming smile and gentle voice was befitting of a nun. He could only imagine how many men you'd lured into your trap of giving donations with those assets of yours. Kindly praising them for whatever they could give like an owner to a dog. And he was another willing victim.

Your eyes went wide when he dropped the large bag of mora into your little basket. Your grip wavered a bit as the heavy coins weighed your little arms down, and all he did was smirk. He'd made himself known to you.

“What a generous donation!” You exclaimed. That pretty smile of yours, the way your eyes lit up. He resisted the urge to lick his lips while thinking about what he could do with that mouth, a lewd gesture to be doing right in front of a nun, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He felt himself cock an eyebrow at your words. Pleasure? He supposed he gave pleasure to receive it. He eyed you up and down, he could see so little of you. The skirt down to your ankles left plenty to the imagination and imagine he did, “I suppose I'm trying to be new to the faith.”

A little white lie, but your smile growing wider made it worth it. If all nuns were as pretty and tempting as you were, he'd join the commune immediately.

“Lord Barbatos accepts all,” You said, holding the basket back out to him and implying that you wanted him to take his money back, “Don't give because you're new to worship. All that is given is accepted, but we will still take you with open arms.”

“I want to give you this much,” he said, a firm hand pushing the basket back, “and I want to give you so much more.”

Going to the city of freedom, a city known for its drinking and partying, just for the cathedral was quite the story amongst his subordinates. But Childe didn't care. The things he wanted to do with you weren't holy, but that was much better than a glass of wine and a song. If they knew the treat that stayed praying in the church day and night, they too would take to the faith.

Walking into the chapel, the first thing he was greeted with was the sight of you on your knees, praying to the statue of that absentee god. Filling that pretty mouth of yours felt like a better use of this time, you were already on your down there after all. But he decided against it. Not yet at least. Not when you were smiling at him so sweetly, motioning him closer to pray next to you.

Childe mentally asked the Tsaritsa for forgiveness, but still kneeled next to you. The Tsaritsa was a forgiving woman, he hoped that she would understand why he was praying to a false God. The way you were sitting on your knees, your round behind pressed against the heels of your feet, it made the fabric of your skirt press against your body. The curve of your ass, it was the first time he's seen it and he sucked air in through his teeth. He truly was being tempted, wasn't he?

“It's such an honor to see you, Ajax. Wasn't it?” Even the way you tilted your head in confusion was adorable. Typically he'd be upset if someone had forgotten his name, he didn't feel forgettable, but he was going to make you remember. Those plump lips of your would be calling his name over and over again, until it would be all you could say.

“Yes, it's Ajax,” he dropped the clasps of his hands and stood again, holding out an arm for you as well, “I was in the area again and decided to stop by for a prayer.”

A look of hesitance danced across that pretty face of yours as you debated whether or not to take his hand, before deciding against it. Instead, you chose to stand by yourself, a move that made him long for you even more. So he couldn't even feel the softness of your skin? Yet another ache in his groin, you were honestly trying to get him, weren't you?

“Forgive my rudeness, but we're discouraged from touching those of the opposite sex. Especially those who haven't taken vows, better to not tempt provocation,”

Vows? He'd assumed as much, but hearing you say it his pants grow even tighter. Temptation was you. You were such a pure soul, but you were sin. That body under all those clothes, he knew that it was erotic. He knew you felt lustful thoughts, that even you had ideas and thoughts that went against your virtue.

“I understand,” he spoke in a strained whisper, gripping the legs of his pants tight, “Do you think we can go somewhere private? I have a few confessions I need to make.”

You perked up once again, large eyes filled with enthusiasm, “Our father is holding a confessional if you'd like-”

“No,” he cut you off quickly, “I want to talk to you alone, do you think that's a possibility?”

There was a look of aversion in your eyes, clearly you were thinking about it. You looked like you wanted to tell him no, but your good natured heart and kind ways were fighting against what was right and what you felt like you needed to do as a nun.

“I'm…I'm not meant to take confessions, brother Ajax,” you said sweetly.

He stepped a bit closer to you, trying not to intimidate you, but also trying to press the importance. His length was hardening even more, his pants growing tighter. If you noticed, you didn't say anything, but of course, how would you?

“Please, it'll just be for a moment,”

Fearful eyes looked around the church before you motioned for him to follow you. Going against your God while in his home, you felt like you were committing a crime. But you couldn't leave a person in need behind. You're sure Barbatos would find it in his heart to forgive you.

“Please, make yourself at home here, dear brother,” you said while leading him through the door.

It was a simple room. An altar at the other end of the room, with a few candles and offerings and dim lighting. The room was scented with incense, a sweet smell that reminded him of the dandelion wine that Mondstadt was known for.

You lowered yourself onto your knees and motioned for Childe to follow you, “Please, kneel next to me, confess whatever you feel necessary,”

He sat down next to you, close enough to where his shoulder brushed against you. You flinched from this contact, but didn't say anything. A thought crossed your mind, so much space in the room and he chose to be right against you.

“Forgive me, I have sinned,” he said, but he never closed his eyes, never clasped his hands together, never lowered his head.

“Confess to me your woes,”

He sucked air in through his teeth, trying not to jump on you. Not yet. Not while you were looking at him so hopefully. So much trust. It only made him want you more.

“I've been having sinful thoughts,” he began, his eyes not leaving you, “Sinful to the point of being debilitating. They wreck my mind constantly.”

“Are these thoughts of harming others?” You asked, this didn't seem like the question of a clergy, but rather one of genuine curiosity.

He didn't look away from you, while his hand slithered down and he began palming his length through his pants, “They used to be. But now they're more deviant in nature.”

“Br-brother Ajax, such actions are- they are unbefitting for the church,” you said quickly, turning your head away to not see him as he defiled sacred ground with his actions.

“I need you, sister,” he leaned closer to you, whispering his words right into the shell of your ear. You squirmed at the feeling of his breath, such a cute reaction it was, and the yelp you let out when his hand gripped your ankle was even cuter. He tugged at your leg, pushing your back against the ground and leaning over you.

He'd seen fear like this before. Many times before. When he plunged a weapon into someone's chest, watching the life fade from their eyes, it was similar to the one you were making now. The tears, the muttered begging, even the way your lips quivered, it was all the same. So why now did it make his cock even harder in the confines of his pants?

Where would he even begin with you? Quite honestly, he didn't even know how to take your garb off. Instead, he took to ripping it, right at the neck. Pulling it apart straight down the middle until every inch of your torso became visible to him. Your breasts were covered in a basic bra. Normally he was the type to prefer more intricate lingerie to entice his urges, yet something about the simplicity of your undergarments made him hiss air in through his teeth. It was like you knew for certain that nothing was happening, yet he still was forcing you to show him.

“Stop! You can't do this!” You cried, trying to cover yourself in what scraps of your dress you could find.

He was gentle as he touched you this time, fingertips stroking your cheek, but his words following were harsh and deathly serious, “Don't fight me, I wouldn't want to hurt you,”

“Heavenly father, I ask that you forgive me…” you began to mutter to yourself in prayer. Laying there, hands clasped and teary eyes shut as you felt him trace up and down your thigh with his tongue. The feeling of his saliva, going up to your stomach, one of his hands cupping your breast before ripping the fabric of your bra away, it made you sick to your stomach. Your pebbled nipples hitting the cold air were quickly sucked into his mouth, a pleasure never experienced before washing over your body. You shuddered, much to his approval.

He wanted to go slower. He wanted to tease you for hours before taking you. He wanted to make you cum over and over, proudly showing how lewd you truly were to your false God, but even he has grown impatient. Trying to win you the right way just wasn't working and he needed to feel you, as deeply as possible, the girl he'd fantasized about night after night.

The way your eyes widened when he dropped his pants was cute. When you tried to look away from his hard cock that was dripping precum onto your cunt, still begging with those sweet lips, it was even cuter. But the way you went silent, the way the world seemed to stop from you the second you felt the head of his cock against your opening, that was the cutest. He loved the look in your eye. The look of visceral fear. It was a look of knowing. Knowing that after he was finished with you, you'd have nowhere to go, but to him.

You only began truly fighting him off when he began pushing the head of his cock into your warmth. So tight and soft, no matter how hard you hit him, you couldn't make him leave your insides. When he bottomed out inside you, feeling your walls clench around every inch of his cock, he hissed. Face to face with you now, nestled deep within you, he kissed your wet cheeks. Childe wasn't one for love making, but he couldn't help but to be tender with you. His thrusts were slow, but deep, making sure you tasted all of him.

“Hush, little angel,” he cooed softly to you, while wiping away more of your tears. Your little sobs were agonizing to his heart, yet his cock only twitched harder, “It'll be over soon.”

And you nodded. Such a sweet thing. You nodded and let yourself go to him. He didn't take this as a sign to be rougher though. No. He couldn't. Not to you. He continued his same pace, softly humming to you and shushing you when you got too loud. He wanted to pound your insides, to fuck you brutally, but that would be for later.

Little sobs left your lips as your nails dug into the carpeted floor beneath you. He was still going slow. Thrusting in and out skillfully, his hand tenderly gripping your face and making you look him in the eye, any time you tried to look away, he'd just force your head back.

“I'm cumming soon, okay?” He muttered against your lips, kissing you gently afterwards.

With your mouth engulfed in his, you couldn't beg him to please not finish inside you. Instead, your body flailed beneath him, trying to get him off as you felt the thrust of his hips speed up and become more greedy. You felt him grip you tighter, you felt his moans grow louder against your lips. And all you could do is sit in horror as you felt his hips falter, his pace slow down, and his cock twitch even more as it pumped hot cum deep inside your.

Childe pulled away from the sloppy kiss, your lips covered in saliva and he smiled. You'd never seen such evilness until you looked into his eyes, proudly looking down at your cunt where the cum was seeping out. I'm your mind, you were saying another prayer, but you weren't sure if anyone was listening.

“Guess I have to marry you now,” he chuckled with a playful pat against your thigh. But despite the smile on his face you knew he wasn't joking.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yandere childe smut #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #childe smut #childe x reader #childe x reader smut #genshin childe x reader #18+ mdni

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madamechrissy · 1 month ago

Text

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you

♔ Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, mentions of disordered eating of the reader and past emotional abuse, Satoru doesn't really help how he should but his dumbass tries, heavy angst, jealousy, smacking, Duke Gojo is becoming pathetic, lots of begging, heartfelt chap, cunnilingus, fingering, toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic. OOC. ANGST. SO MUCH TENSION.

♔ Word count this chap: 9.7k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

(taglist open/Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Six- Dinner is just a Masquerade

Satoru sits right across from you, glaring as you sit there in your chair, sipping on black coffee from a delicate china, and not touching your plate. You do eat of course, but you refuse to do so in front of him, even after he’d said it was false, you were too nervous. You’d always been a peckish little eater, and your parents praised that, so many people praised your impeccable manners at the table.

Your arms rest just so on the edge of the table, your pinky sits up so high as you take a sip, you know just how many times to chew to seem as if you’re enjoying a dish. You know all the etiquette, and you know how to keep from gaining weight, or to quickly slim if you catch the slightest ounce, you know how to keep healthy enough without looking overly indulgent.

For once, you’d just enjoyed a damn dish, you figured you did not need to impress Duke Gojo, after all he said he’d never want you. But the comment had triggered something you don’t quite like. Aside from Nanami stuffing your mouth full of delicious cookies, you’ve not eaten too much, it’s almost like a control you feel you need, but you must admit, you’re starving right now.

You have fluffy scones, tea and biscuits, and you’re just sipping this coffee, hoping it eases your throat. Duke Gojo slams his hands on the table then, picking up a scone and striding to you, yanks you by your hair. You gasp at the sensation, smacking at his big, stupid hands as he bends low over you.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You bite out, grabbing at his strong wrists and pulling at them, digging your long nails in his skin.

“You’ll fucking eat something, goddamn brat. Open your mouth.” He bends low and you grit your teeth, brows low as you scowl right back at his pretty face, as he’s trying to shove a scone in your mouth.

“Excuse me- ah!” He’s shoved it now, shoving your mouth closed by your jaw, and you’re forced to chew the sweet thing. He leans close to you, thumb brushing against your lower lip, staring at you with swirling blue eyes, so intense you shut your own, chewing it slowly.

You swallow it down, only for him to open your mouth more gently, and it does something to your tummy you hate, this feeling, it’s not butterflies like Nanami, no it’s brutal moths flying violently, and you detest it. You detest that you take another bite of scone for him, finishing it, licking your lower lip and sucking in a breath, your eyes locked on him.

“I should have never said that.” He sits on the table, most casual for him as he’s typically as formal as can be, his thighs spread far too wide and making you remember seeing him. You blush furiously, sipping your coffee then carefully.

“I have forgiven you, Duke. I am not much of an eater anyway.”

“It’s what I said, and I know it’s why you’re wasting away.” He grabs your wrist, wrapping his hand around it gently, an odd sensation and it feels so intense from what you’re used to.

“I’m still a healthy size-”

“For now. Please fucking eat. I know I’m horrible, I know you hate me, I know you owe me no kindness…” You hear his usually cruel voice break, and you struggle to keep your breaths steady, as he caresses your jaw in a way he shouldn’t. “Just don’t let me be the cause of this.”

“Why do you care? You’re so bloody confusing.” You pop another one in your mouth though, and watch his exhale in relief, running a hand through his silky white hair, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I wanted you to hate me, not hurt yourself.” You blink, looking up again.

“Well, you succeeded in me hating you.” You finish chewing and dab your mouth with the handkerchief, an action Satoru’s insane eyes follow.

“I know I did. I will not make a comment again about this however, you have my word. I am… I am sorry.” You feel the sincerity, and though you still hate him, you decide to finally let this go. If this was as good as anything would get with the infuriating, cold Duke.

“Well, thank you, Duke Gojo.” You sip more coffee, as he hops off the table, and your heart thuds in your chest, throat feeling tight again.

“I actually like women with more meat on their bones. You see my mistresses, it was just… I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me.” His voice is strained as he sits back down next to you, nibbling on his own food now slowly, and you sigh, leaning back a bit in your seat, not your typical straight stature.

“I am confident in ways but I have always watched how I look. Making sure to look perfect. It’s what I am praised for, it’s my worth, how well I am wedded. To marry a Duke made my family proud of me, and that is all my worth is, appearance, posture, how I act, how I laugh… how I eat. All of it. A woman has nothing else truly.”

Duke Gojo sips his sweet tea with milk, contemplating you carefully. What were you doing, opening up to this man? Stupid.

“I assumed you were highly confident, that you would know you’re nothing close to a ‘pig’ in how you eat.”

Your hands run along the edge of your little ceramic cup, touching the handle and studying him, tilting your head. “So why say it, then? To make me hate you?”

“Yes.”

Huh.

“May I know why?”

“No.”

There it is, the confusion, the haughty look on his face you want to punch right off of him. He’s clearly done with whatever tiny vulnerability he’s shown, and likely done affording you any kindness. You sigh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “And I still disgust you?”

He clears his throat, pulling at his collar, stiffening in his seat. “Don’t I disgust you, Duchess?”

You bite your lower lip, nodding. “You have lay with four women since I’ve known you, covered in their rouge, their perfume, their lip stains. Indeed, I do not find that attractive. But as for your looks, of course you are handsome.” His eyes widen, full lips parting for a moment.

“I’m handsome to you?”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re extremely handsome outwardly, on the inside is quite another story, Duke. But you already know that.”

He sips his tea once more, just a hint of color on his cheeks. “Well you have not said so.”

“You want me to? You hate me.”

He looks away. “Yes, I do.”

You sigh then. “This conversation grows tiresome-”

“You’re attractive outwardly as well, very, very attractive. You disgust me because… of other reasons than your beauty.” His soft words are barely a whisper, especially at the end.

Now your cheeks flush, but you just sigh. “Oh, so you were not serious when you said-”

“No, I should not have said that either. Now you disgust me because you spread your legs wide for that man.” His fists clench, you stand then, shaking your head.

“What care you? Your cock in another woman every night.” Gojo stands now, stepping right in front of you.

“And was his cock in you, like a whore?” You smack him then, right across his face, and he scowls now, grabbing your wrist, bending low over you. “You’re the most insolent brat I’ve met.”

“And you’re the most stupid, cruel man I’ve ever met. I will not answer your stupid question. I ask not what you do.”

“Well you’re the innocent one here, or you were.”

“What do you care? My innocence isn’t yours to take. I’d never give it to you.” You whisper, and he grabs your waist then, pulling you flush against him, eyes darting to your lips.

“You act as if you do not want me, when I touch you, your body tells another story.” His voice is dangerously soft as he runs his fingers down your skin, where it’s bare on your shoulders, you shiver, your nipples tightening involuntarily. You can’t stand your stupid body.

“And you beg to touch me, don’t you Gojo?” His eyes narrow, long white lashes over his gaze now at your soft words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Just because you taste good doesn’t mean I… you know what? Fuck you, Duchess.”

“Fuck you, Duke. Are the formalities in order for our daily battle? Do you enjoy them so, Duke?” Your free hand slides down his abdomen, watching him suck in a breath, feeling his muscles tense. “Enjoy touching me? Enjoy tasting me? Do you hate that I let someone else?”

You watch his jaw clench, watch him gulp, as his grip on you tightens just so. “It’s disgusting that you do. You’re so desperate, so pathetic, to jump in someone’s arms so quickly. You know you are.” His voice is hoarse, however, strained, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

You laugh softly, giving him a mean smile. “So what does that make you, the man who jumps in any woman’s arms? So fucking desperate anyone will do?”

Satoru grabs your face then, squishing your cheeks as he leans even lower, and you hate your body’s reaction again, you hate everything about him. “What do you care who I lay with then, hmm? Jealous of them?”

“Ha, no… I wouldn’t touch you, lord knows where you’ve been? You wish.”

He snorts. “I do not wish.”

You raise a brow. “Mmm, indeed.”

“Eat one more, wife, since you wish to please your husband, don’t you? The perfect little fucking wife.” You scowl again, popping one more, noticing the pleased smile.

“Only because I am hungry.” You speak after you chew, and he exhales, letting your wrist go, caressing your cheek softly, you hate it, but find that your eyes are fluttering shut.

“Good. Prepare today, we have that dinner with our parents.”

“I’ll be the picture of fake wedded bliss.” You smile sweetly, and he shakes his head, why won’t he let your damn waist go!?

“You sure do know how to pretend. We don’t want them knowing the truth, that we hate each other, hmm?”

“Indeed, I can absolutely pretend. Watch.” You take his hand, batting your long lashes and smiling sweetly, leaning up and pecking a kiss on his cheek, watching the blush decorate the shameless man’s face. “Oh Mama, Papa, I’m ever so happy as Duke Gojo’s wife.”

“Bitch.” He huffs, and you pull back and curtsey.

“I know, perfect performance, hmm?”

“No, you’d be calling me Satoru by now. If I wanted to, I’d have you screaming out ‘Satoru’.” His husky whisper is against your lips as he brushes the backs of his knuckles down your collarbone. You fall into that infinite pool that are Gojo’s eyes, for just a moment, before righting yourself.

“I only scream ‘Satoru’ when he pees on the floor.” You coo, yanking back from him just a step, and earning his furious scowl.

“You’re such a bitch. Imagine if I were the type of husband to take what’s mine, to keep you locked up like some pretty bird in a cage. Ever been happy I don’t?”

“I’m very happy you don’t fuck me. It will be so fun to fuck him-”

Gojo grabs you by the throat then, squeezing just so, and you just laugh as he bends down low. “You’re such a stupid whore.”

“I’m learning from the best.” You whisper out, nails digging into his wrist, but something about how he squeezes, how his other hand slides up your rib cage, makes you…

Wet.

Something’s so wrong with you!?

He releases you, leaning down again, and you hold him at a distance, his blue stormy eyes dilated now. “I should occupy your mouth with other things.”

“I wouldn’t suck you, who knows where that cock has been-”

“You know what that is!?” He demands, tips of his ears red.

You clear your throat, looking down and stepping back, as Satoru is furious. “It’s none of your-”

“You sucked a man off like some-”

“Like how I saw a girl suck you. Mmhmm.” You say then, defiant, raising your eyes back to his, looking at him under your lashes. Gojo grabs you again, and you smack him again, in this stupid fucking dance you both do.

“Did you really?”

“You mad it wasn’t you?” He opens his mouth, those pink lush lips wide, as if he’s at a loss for words. “Maybe I’ll ask your women for tips, you know, for next time.”

He laughs harshly, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, exasperated clearly. “Ask my mistresses for tips on sucking cock?”

“Mmm, indeed. I’m not sure if I did the best as my first time. But you know, he enjoyed it clearly, he… well you know.”

“You’re such an evil little bitch.” You just smile as he chokes you once more, you feel him holding back, you know he wants to crush your windpipe, but the soft pressure is thrilling. “So you’re just swallowing cum then?”

“Why not? Don’t they swallow, Gojo?” He says nothing, as he’s panting, as you’re whispering through the squeeze of your throat.

“You wouldn’t be able to talk if I fucked your mouth, that’s the difference, wouldn’t be able to swallow anything for days without remembering my cock fucking your little throat.” His words shoot straight to your cunt, and it’s like he knows, as he grips your skirts tightly into a fist.

“I’d never suck you.” You say then, earning a tighter squeeze before he releases you, furious now. “You won’t be any of my firsts, I don’t even count our kiss.” You cough then, rubbing your throat, and Gojo’s fury just grows, as does his despair, as his eyes look so… sad then.

You don’t care.

Gojo deserves this and worse.

You don’t care when he storms away without a fucking word, and you don’t care when he says nothing to you even in that carriage ride to your parents home, where Gojo’s Mama and step dad would be. You don’t care how his thighs are spread, one pressed against yours, how you feel the heat of him against your skin through those layers of satin.

What do you care if he’s upset?

The carriage ride to your parents' home is tense, the silence thick with tension, as Satoru Gojo sulks like a damn child. He keeps peeking at you, before glaring and staring back out the carriage window, fuming. You sit rigidly, your heart racing from the altercation in the dining room, you can still feel his hand on your throat, and you wish you hated it more.

The soft rocking of the carriage and the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets are the only sounds that fill the space in the tense quarters. You hate that his scent fill the air between you, a mix of sandalwood and something sweet, fuck does this stupid man need to smell so good!?

You focus on the passing scenery outside the window, you should take this as a good thing, Satoru Gojo finally shutting the fuck up. Right? How often have you gotten him to-

“Bet you were wet.”

What!?

You look to him incredulously, mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“When I choked that pretty throat of yours.” His ankle is crossed over his knee, he’s resting his chin on his hand, smirking now.

“I was certainly not, damned brute!”

“No, not a bit? You looked like you liked it. Wonder how freaky your baker really gets, could he handle you?”

“Stupid fucking man.” You shove at his arm now, maybe you should have enjoyed that silence. “You presume too much, your Grace.”

“Felt you twice, soaked.” His voice drips with sex, as drippy as he had your little pussy, but you'll not say it out loud. Fuck Duke Gojo.

“Wasn’t you who did it.”

“Lying little bitch.”

“Conceited dick!”

As the carriage draws to a halt in front of your parents' grand estate, you both are glaring at each other, and he’s too close, he’s too close. You want to punch him if not for being at your parents’, and them seeing your ‘husband’ with a giant bruise on his face. Your fingers itch badly to, but soon one of the attendants was opening the carriage door, and Satoru steps out.

He holds his hand out then, and you ignore it, choosing to step down instead, holding your skirts up, nearly tripping as your legs aren’t quite long enough with your flouncy skirts. Then Satoru’s hand catches you by your bare upper arm, and it sends a jolt through your body, a reminder of his earlier touch, and you immediately pull away, smoothing your skirts as if to wipe away the sensation.

“Wanted to land on your face, brat?” He demands through gritted teeth, earning your glare up at him.

“Face planting is preferable to your touch.” He scoffs, walking ahead of you, and you struggle to compose yourself, hating everything about this man.

Perfect.

Composed.

You can do this. You can’t let Satoru see his stupid effects on you anymore than he already has.

Once seated at the long, elegantly set dinner table, the weight of your parents' expectations press down on you. Satoru sits next to you, and instead of being perfect and composed, he seemed on the very edge, fury just radiating. You wonder at him, why was he mad you did the same thing he did? He’s confusing, he’s stupid, he’s bloody infuriating.

You wish you were instead baking with Mr. Nanami, not forcing smiles in this masquerade of an affair next to London’s biggest asshole. Let him ruin the sham of marriage you think, perhaps it will end it all sooner… Though you know in your heart your parents will not let this go, they would simply force you to stay, as would Gojo’s mother.

Gojo’s stepfather looks bored, he and Gojo do not even acknowledge each other, which you find somewhat curious as you pick at your food, the rich aromas of roast beef and steamed vegetables doing little to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You make yourself eat some, noticing Gojo’s relief next to you.

Why does he suddenly care?

The room is lit by several candles, along with a beautiful chandelier overhead, casting flickering shadows across the polished silverware and crystal glasses. Your parents manor was one of the most grand aside from royalty, which of course you were now, but the beauty is hard to rival. If your parents liked one thing, it was opulence, it was being the top of society.

It doesn’t feel much like a home truly. You did not have a bad childhood, no indeed you are very lucky, your parents let you ride horses, play outside, cook in the kitchens. The only pressures you faced were preparing to be a good wife, to be the most perfect, and even though you’ve ‘accomplished’ it, the weight of their gazes and their expectations drowns you still.

The sound of forks and knives clinking against porcelain plates fills the air, punctuated by the occasional forced laughter, along with perfunctory conversation, until they get to what they really wanted to talk about. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as your mother looks at you both.

“So, are we trying for an heir?” You sputter, and Gojo smirks then, looking down at you and raising a brow.

“We have been actively trying, haven’t we, my love.” You grit your teeth at his stupid words, sure he’s playing a game but you hate them.

“Indeed, we have been trying most… fervently, sweet Satoru.” He gulps audibly on the sweet wine he’s drinking, raising brows at the use of his name.

“I’m most pleased to hear this. We had our worries.” Your mother says, and Gojo’s mom smiles.

“I also had my worries. But I can see the sparks between you both.” You stifle a rude laugh, but Gojo snorts, earning a subtle stomp on his foot, and a glare from him, to which you just smile brightly, batting your lashes at him.

“Indeed, I see them as well. Young and in love.” Your dad says, winking at you both, and you literally can barely stop yourself from snorting, instead shoving food into your mouth, and you notice your parents shock, brows raised.

“Eat like that so often and you won’t keep that perfect little waist, darling.” Your mom’s words make your fork clatter then, and you clear your suddenly tight throat, feeling your eyes prick with tears.

“She barely eats, like a damned bird, she has an appetite from us riding horses earlier is all.” Satoru says then, and you look at him in shock, as he’s… is Satoru… defending you?

“Of course, she also must eat well to have a baby you know.” Satoru’s mom says softly, and your mother smiles a bit, nodding, as her crushing words hit an already fragile part of you.

“Indeed, but your husband married you a certain way, you know.” She quips then, and your chest heaves with labored breaths, as you sip on your drink, and you feel Satoru’s hand then, under the cover of the heavy damask tablecloth, on your thigh, not sexual either it’s…

Supportive?

“I assure you she could stand to eat more, she’s rather petite. I enjoy a woman who eats.” He says, and his touch is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver up your spine, as he speaks so bravely for you, on something he himself had said. He now looks to you, and you see it, pain in his eyes that's reflected from yours.

Understanding.

“You’re not the same size, are you, when you married?” Satoru’s mom quips to your mom, and she gasps, you and Satoru hold in your chuckles just barely.

“Well, I… I’m older and had a babe! We can’t all stay your size, Lady Gojo.”

“Leave her alone, she’s just hungry.” Your dad says, and you sigh a bit as your mother finally relents. You can’t eat another bite, as she picks you apart.

“You look pale. That’s not well. You should have more color.” She says now, and you can’t stand another moment, wanting to throw back your wine.

“She’s been in the bed chambers so much, Mama.” Satoru quips, and soon everyone laughs at his remark, and once again, he squeezes your thigh, giving you a small smile.

“Why are you being nice?” You whisper, leaning to his ear, as a loving couple would do, and you inhale his scent, you feel the heat of his palm over your skirts.

“Because your mom’s a bitch.” You giggle a bit, looking up and seeing a different side of him, his smirk… charming and not cruel. You try to remind yourself he’s horrible, and you will remember that later, but for a brief moment you’re content to enjoy him.

“They’ll definitely be making babies.” Satoru’s mom says, and she looks to Satoru curiously then. “Have you given up your rakish ways, Satoru?”

“What rakish ways, you wound me, Mother.” She rolls her pretty blue eyes, a shade darker than Duke Gojo’s, and you tentatively put a hand on his, making him squeeze your thigh, you watch him suck in a breath.

“He’s a reformed rake at present, aren’t you, Satoru?” The room is quiet, and he looks at you in surprise, nodding, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and his warm lips feel far, far too sweet on your skin.

“Indeed, reformed for you my love.” He murmurs, and you can’t take how charming he looks, acts, even when you know how he really is.

You hate that you wished for one moment this was real, that the man you’d had dreams of as a young girl, the Duke - he’d been so charming and funny you noticed from afar- was actually kind. That he wouldn’t be fucking another woman right next to you, right in front of you. That he would truly mean what he says, and not constantly confuse you.

Was there kindness in him, in Satoru Gojo, or just this moment, where you both have some strange agreement? Why won’t you lift your hand off of his, why are you brushing a thumb along his knuckles, and why won’t he release your leg? His hand slides higher, his thumb ghosting along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you bite back a gasp.

The conversation carries on, until Lady Gojo brings up Satoru’s father, and his grip gets brutal, his breathing labored. You clutch onto his hand, looking at him with concern stark in your gaze then. That vein bulges out of his jaw, and now he’s downing a whole glass of wine, holding the empty crystal for a servant to fill, beginning to chug that one down.

“I won’t speak of him, you know that Mother.” She sighs then, shaking her head, cutting a piece of roast beef and chewing it delicately.

“I do not know what ever happened.”

“You need not know. Do not bring him up, he’s dead, he’s gone.” At Satoru’s harsh and cruel words of his own father your mind races, what could he have done to earn such ire?

“Let’s speak of other things.” You chime in then, and he exhales, turning his hand up to entwine with yours, it’s as if you both were relying on each other to get through this sham of a dinner. Something about this was nicer than you cared to admit. “What of the opera this weekend? Are any of you going?”

“Indeed, we have a box seat. Are you two going?” Your father asks, as Lady Gojo is quiet, contemplative, and your mom is still rather huffy about the weight comments.

“We’re going, of course. You know I love the opera.” You say brightly, and soon the topics shift, and they’re on to speak of the races, of gossip, of different businesses and even political matters. The heat is off you and Satoru, so you let go of a hand you’ve held far too long.

Satoru’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it wraps around your back, rubbing little circles against it that feel so good. You laced incredibly tight due to your Mama and her perpetual comments, and you’re struggling just a bit to breathe, but he’s so comforting, his presence. It shouldn’t be.

It shouldn’t be.

It can’t be.

You hate him.

How dare he comfort you, defend you, how could you do the same, how could you act this way when hours ago he’d choked you, and you’d slapped him, and you’d both been so nasty? What was this, were you thinking more into it, was he just keeping up appearances?

Satoru leans close to you then, holding a piece of dessert on a silver fork, and you have flashbacks, of him and Catherine, so vivid you feel sick, you pull back then, wondering how you’d let it get so far, this facade. Just hours ago you had slapped him and he had choked you, and even you had been cruel, something you frequently were lately.

“I need some air, I’m afraid. Excuse me for just a moment.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes narrow a bit, his lips pursing just so.

You rush out into the gardens now, just like you had that night, taking several shaky breaths, trying to compose yourself, remind yourself of the cruel reality that Satoru is not kind, he is not interested. The truth that you have someone who cares, and every moment you enjoy with Satoru feels like some betrayal to him, in such an odd way.

You would be at best a plaything, and at worst, something for Satoru to mock, to have something over you. It was not as if the man for whatever reason feels some attraction that anything has changed. You are a damn fool, you realize it, as you walk past the beautiful marble statues of couples in love, naked aside from rippled sheets gracing their bodies.

You touch a particular one then, seeing the beauty of it, but also the pain, a statue with two women and one man. One is pulling at the man’s shoulders, while the other is in his arms, and you see the pain in the woman’s ivory face, the set of her brows, her hollow eyes, as the other woman smiles so coyly. There is the utmost detail as the man’s hand presses into her flesh.

You are that other woman, or you become that woman when you have just one feeling, just one care, just one moment. He is not sincere, he is not kind, just because he gave you one moment of reprieve, just because he apologized for one wrong doing amongst the countless… he is not worthy of forgiveness… he is not…

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?” You jerk and turn when you see him behind you in the dark night, where thousands of glittery stars watch you and judge you, will they laugh at how stupid you’ve become?

“It is my favorite piece in these gardens.” You say softly, clearing your throat and tilting your head back to look up at him, at his soft lips that tempt you with every breath, at his long white lashes casting shadows down his cheeks. You look down then, nervously gripping your sapphire gown. “I’ll be back momentarily, your Grace.”

“Your mother, she upset you.” His words surprise you, and you take a nervous breath, nodding. “I did not know… I see now, how jealous she is of you.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Mmm, young and beautiful, and she wishes she still was, not that she’s not a pretty lady, but certainly not…” He trails off then, tugging at his cravat, nervous by your shocked expression. “Not you.”

Your heart falters, tears pricking your eyes, and as they fall, Satoru brushes one away with a thumb, ripping apart a fragile psyche. “Why are you being kind? What games do you mean to play?”

He sighs, looking down now as well, broad shoulders slumping a bit. “I just realize that I triggered something already there, and I feel fucking horrible.”

“Then why do it? Why do any of it? What did I do to deserve-”

“I can’t tell you.” His voice is broken, his words so confusing you can’t stand it. “But we have something in common. Or, we did.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” You ask, raising a brow.

His jaw sets. ‘Shit parents who clearly hate us. Though, my shitty parent is since deceased. And yours lives and eats across from you. Was she always like this?”

You blink rapidly, nodding and brushing tendrils that have fallen from your half up do out of your face. “She’s always needed me perfect, picked me to fucking pieces, it’s like I couldn’t live up to it.”

He laughs, dark and without humor then. “I understand that feeling, to need to be perfect. I suppose I thought you were though.”

“I just come across that way. There’s so much wrong with me…”

“Like what?”

“A lot. As you know.”

“Hmm.” He sighs then, as you both stand together in the night, and you hate how much you ache to touch his chest, to feel his arms around you. And why!? Why?

“Well thank you for the kindness tonight, even if it was an act, it was a rather beautiful one.” You turn then, head dropping and shoulders stopping just a bit, as the gentle breeze of the night blows against your skin, making you shiver. Satoru’s big hands grip your shoulders then, and you stiffen, fighting how good it feels, fighting that feeling when he’s pressed against you.

Satoru leans down, breath tickling your ear. “It was not an act to defend you. That was not an act when you helped me either, changing that subject, was it?”

You shake your head then, breathing so heavy, wishing it would calm, as he’s so fucking close, you can feel him everywhere in the night, as if it’s all him. “You helped me, so of course I helped.”

“After all I’ve done, you owe me no kindness. No forgiveness. None.” His words are terse, as his grip tightens, and you bite your lower lip so brutally you tear the skin of it, tasting just a bit of blood. You fight every urge in your body.

“You’re not owed any. That is true. And we will go back to normal, as soon as we are at Gojo Manor-”

“Home. At home.”

“Your home.” You look up and glare, as he scowls. “You’ll have a mistress waiting in your bed, and you’ll cease to need to excite yourself with this stupid game, once a woman you desire is there.”

“You think…” His hands slip down to your waist, pressing you against him, and your head falls back against his chest before you can stop it, letting out a little whine that you despise. “I don’t desire you? Are you so stupid?”

“Fuck you, Gojo. Fuck you confusing me, fuck everything about you, including making me think… making me…”

“Think what, Princess?” His husky tone and that word make you so on edge you can’t stand it, as a big hand presses on your tummy over your corset.

“Don’t call me that, I’m a Duchess, and that’s temporary.”

“You’re a whole fucking Princess, everything about you. This body, this face, that annoyingly perfect posture, the way the entire room holds its breath-”

“Don’t do this. Don’t. You’re a liar.” You turn then, only for him to bend at the waist, cupping your face, shaking his head, the moonlight like a halo behind his head, behind his body, like he’s an angel, when he’s not. “Devil. You’re a devil.”

“And you’re a fucking angel.” You shake your head again, shoving at his chest, but his lips descend, and they feel so good they pulse through you, until you find yourself tip toeing, and he moans in your mouth. “Slutty angel.”

“Whore devil.” You whisper back, only for him to grip you roughly, hands obscene, grabbing your ass over your gown, picking you up with ease and pressing you against that statue, it digs in so hard but you come alive, as he’s kissing down your throat, your chest, biting and moaning so softly.

“Why must you do this to me? Haunt me so. I should hate you.” He says then, confusing the ever living shit out of you. “I should not want you.”

“Why not? Why do you… no… just, let me go. Don’t want this, don’t want you, I don’t!” You smack at his chest, and he grabs your wrists, shoving them behind your back, bringing your hips to him, and he’s hard and thick over your layers. You cry out, head falling back, and he devours you, bit by bit.

“I hate it. I hate you.” He kisses and kisses, as every confession of hate confuses you, as does your throbbing pussy. “I can’t stop it, I can’t stop these thoughts… of tasting you, of kissing you, bit by bit, of making you cum so much you’ll forget that man, he’ll be nothing.”

“Mnh, stop it. You can’t. You won’t. I won’t.” He’s sliding his hand up your bodice, gripping your breasts, shaking his head. “I can’t fall for this, for you, just leave me be!” He frowns then, brows knitting together, as he caresses your cheek far too softly.

His eyes devour you, full of… it’s fucking desire, isn’t it? A person can’t fake that look, but you must ignore it! You must… “Please… I need-”

You both fall apart as you hear your family now, and you just barely manage to escape with your mind intact. Partially.

You can’t fall for this, what even is this!?

It’s a silent carriage ride back, as you both stare out those dark carriage windows, pitch black nearly aside from soft lights hanging along, marking your path, and you can’t get his touch out of your mind, his kiss off your lips. You touch them then, sighing, and his eyes lock on you.

“What?” You say then, putting your fingers down, and he opens his mouth, then shuts it, opening it again. “Say it, Duke.”

“I was not pretending. I meant it.” You laugh then, shaking your head and facing him, as he faces you in the night, the carriage rocking roughly, shoving you into his damn arms, making him suck in a breath, as you push back.

“You’re such a liar, instead of just being cruel outwardly, you want to make me think you actually…”

“Actually what?”

“Want me! When you don’t!”

“I do! I do, fuck I do. Can you not fucking see!?” He demands then, and you shake your head quickly, breaths in quick pants, as his stupid fucking hands run down your shoulders. “I want you so badly I came and begged to taste you. Twice. What do you think that means?”

“That you’re stupid, confusing, a dick! Angry I don’t fall to my fucking knees for you. Conceited, narcissistic and ruthless! Cold and beautiful and hard, like some fucking diamond. You’re the diamond, you!” You shove at him, and he lets you, he lets you smack at him. “I hate you! I hate my life because of you!”

When you stop for just a moment it’s because you hear his labored breaths, and you look up to see tears in the night. You gulp, shaking your head, unbelieving them, gripping his suit so tight it hurts in your hands. He rests his forehead on yours, and you taste the sweet brandy on his breath, and fuck you hate it, when his head tilts, and when his lips brush yours like a ghost.

“You make me cry, you make me hate myself more, you make me… make me want to… you’ve pushed me so hard I-”

“I’m so fucking sorry. I am. I swear to god.”

“Then explain it!”

He chokes on his own cry, you feel your tears mingling together. “I can’t explain it to you, I can’t, but it was never your fault.”

“So I just accept that!? Fuck that. That’s bullshit.” You shove back, swiping your eyes and backing up, your back slamming against the rocking wooden carriage seat, thighs shaking. “It’s because I’m happy without you, you can’t stand it.”

“No, I can’t stand it, not when it’s me who should be making you cum.” You nearly growl in anger, glaring at him and smacking him, only for him to let you, to grip your wrist and kiss your palm. “Don’t fucking do that! I won’t stop seeing him. He is who deserves me, you do not!”

“I know I do not deserve you. I know.” He pins your wrists against the sides of you, and he’s now between your thighs, on his knees, and you’re panicking. “I know you’re too good for me. I know it, goddammit you shouldn’t even let me touch you, but you want it too, don’t you.”

“N-no! Never!” He exhales, slipping up your skirts, and you let him, fuck you spread your thighs for him. “What on Earth are you doing!?”

“I’m going to lick you. And you’re going to cum so hard you’ll forget anything, anything in that pretty head but me.” He whispers, you’re soaked clean through those pantalets he’s ripped off you then, and you gasp.

“No, you won’t… you can’t… don’t want you…”

“No? Then explain this.” He’s slid a thick digit in your already dripping entrance, and you’re screaming out in the rocking carriage, earning his moan, his look of desire, as his eyes watch you in the night, watch your heaving breasts pressed high in your corset. “Soaking wet little cunt.”

“You can’t, you don’t want me, remember!? Fuck! I don’t want you… mmm… I don’t, no… ah! Fuck you!” He’s barely moving a finger and you nearly cum at that, as your fingers itch to shove his face where it’s so close, as he’s kissing and biting your thighs.

“Please.” He begs, looking up, eyes still glossy, and fuck he looks good, fuck you hate that you want it, that you want to so badly you can’t imagine anything else feeling that good. “Let me feel your cum on my face, dripping down my lips, let me drink all of you, Duchess. Please.”

He’s desperate, he’s whiny, he’s between your thighs just begging, his own breaths labored, as he’s curling that finger up, and your head falls back, dripping down on him. “You can’t. It’s not… right. You’ll… fuck your whores… you’ll…”

“Just once, let me.” His desperation makes his voice break, as his breath tickles you. “Let me devour you, let me fucking feel you.” His words, his eyes, the finger sliding against your damp folds, it’s too much.

You hate yourself.

“F-fine, once. I won’t like it, I know I won’t.” You say with a glare, earning a smirk, and a quirked white brow.

“We’ll see about that, Princess.”

He spreads your puffy, aching lips then, and moans when he watches wetness dripping out of your little hole, pooling out of your entrance, then he bends down, sliding his tongue up you, and it feels so good you can’t stop your moan, as those gorgeous eyes look up, and he’s tasting you, his tongue flicking your clit, making it twitch under it, your thighs tightening.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He whispers, lovingly almost, what a joke right, then he’s not just licking you, he’s grabbing you by the fat of your ass, pressing you against the carriage seat, and he’s devouring you.

“Ohmy- ah- what!? I- f-fuck!” You scream out, your hands clinging to his shoulders desperately as he’s sliding his tongue in and out of your soppy entrance, fucking you with it, drinking you all in. Your hips buck up, earning his groan, as he thrusts his tongue in and out, his nose bumping your clit, making you a mess, making you so wet it’s stupid.

You’re so close so quick, you can scarcely hold it in, and when he looks up at you, and takes your hand, putting it on his hair, you feel so fucking powerful then, so desired. You grip his soft hair, hips arching up for more, pulling at his strands, as he moans against you, diving back down, then you’re done for, you’re destroyed, your tummy is clenching with so much pressure you can’t hold in.

You scream out as you cum all over Duke Gojo’s pretty face, and he’s gripping your thighs bruisingly, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth now, humming, as you cum so hard it’s blinding. It washes all over your entire body now, thighs shivering violently on either side of his head as he pulls back, licking his lower lip, covered in your arousal.

“That’s it, you love it don’t you pretty girl?” His words kill your last resolve, if cumming hadn’t, and they confuse you, as your eyes are lidded, as he teases your sensitive entrance with prodding fingers, eyes locked on your face.

“P-pretty… pretty…”

“You’re so pretty like this. Fuck you are so, so pretty, falling apart for me.” He’s sliding two fingers in now, pumping in and out, and you’re on that edge again, as he huffs, leaning up, a breath away. “Lick your sweet cunt off me.”

“Fuck.” You cling to him then, against any good goddamn judgment, as he’s rocking fingers up and down in your tight entrance, and he’s kissing you desperately, so fucking hungry. Your teeth click as he steals your breath, as your tongues swirl so goddamn messy, saliva mixing with your arousal, and you’re both rough and brutal against each other.

He pulls back, biting his lip and sliding a free hand up to your breast, squishing it and making you cry out. “Cum again pretty. Like a good little slut.”

“S-slut… fuck you… fuck!” He’s dived back down now, as the carriage jostles you both, serving to only shove his face further between the apex of your thighs, and you can hear him groan as he licks you from bottom to top, fingering you and licking you, all while his snowy lashes cover his pretty eyes, his face tilted to the side to hit the underside of your clit in quick flicks.

You can't hold it together, everything falls apart again, and this time you're clinging to that white hair, rocking your hips up fucking shameless. He slurps up your wetness, so goddamn obscene in this little carriage as you scream out - “Gojo, c-cumming!”

He pulls back, face glistening, still pressing on that little spongy spot that has you panting, vision darkened as the carriage rocks you both. “Satoru, call me Satoru when you cum.”

“I can’t, I hate you… we hate each… f-fuck you…” He leans up, kissing your breasts, nipping and biting as his fingers work you, so deep it's insane how they hit, the pressure more and more intense as it builds.

“Please just one time. Say my name.” He whispers, vulnerable and begging again, as he's worshiping your cunt, your body. Your body heaves as you struggle to breathe, to think. “Please, Princess…”

“Princess, stop it, stop saying it fuck!” You’re crying salty tears as you’re about to cum again for this horrible man, who is looking at you hungrily.

“You are one, fuck you are, and I'm nothing. Please. Scream my name for me while I feel you gush this sweetness.” He begs again, eyes so dilated they're hard to look at, you're dripping down the carriage seat. You shouldn't be doing this, you shouldn't… you're awful, he's horrible…

“You’re-”

“I know. I know. Please.” He says again, dipping back down, looking up at you now, and it ends you, that hot, wet tip of his tongue flicking where you're sensitive and you can’t stop your back from arching, your hands from pulling him closer. “Say my name, please. Please.”

His whispers are tickling that clit, as he now sinks two fingers so deep, deeper than you’ve had something in you, pressing so deep it’s almost painful, but you want it, you want more. You want all of him, you even want that pretty cock against all your better judgment, thinking of it just makes you squish lewdly, makes him lick his lower lip hungrily.

“Once?” He nods, free hand pressing your thigh up, flounces of skirts dangling as he still his motions, as he watches you eagerly.

“Then make me cum, and I’ll say it.” He moans at that, lashes fluttering as he dives back down fully, using two fingers as he mouths your clit, and you’re dripping all the way down, so much you’re slippery, and you can’t take it, you are so on edge, as he’s building this intensity in your core, as you listen to his hoarse moans muffled by your cunt.

Satoru has you there again, this time even more intense, your building climax, as you buck up your hips, grinding on his face, before stopping yourself, only for him to pull back for just a moment. “No, Princess, keep doing it. Fuck my face. All those frustrations, please fucking do it, get them out on me.”

You sputter, but then moan and pull him against you, grinding on his beautiful face in the night, as his tongue laps and laps, and your cunt spasms around his fingers now, pulsating as it hits you, as it rocks in waves, and you scream it, fuck you scream it… “Satoru! Satoru!”

He groans, fucking you with his long fingers as you cum so hard, harder than you could imagine possible, fucking reeling and weak, head smacking the seat as you pull his face so tightly, as he’s suffocating against you, but his mouth never stops. His fingers keep pressing up, forcing you into another, blue eyes looking up as he watches you so intently, fall apart.

“Satoru!” You scream again, and finally he relents, leaving you weak and boneless, and he’s kissing you again, as you cling so hungry, as you realize that carriage stopped. “Satoru…” He cups your face, eyes swirling, as you swipe some of your wetness off him.

“I want you around my cock so goddamn bad. So bad. Fuck I’d do anything to feel her.” He whispers, and you can’t stop it, you just kiss him again, and before you know it, you’re out of the carriage in his arms, and he’s quickly walking you in as you cling to him, as your mouths don’t leave each other, not even to breathe, tongues in desperate strokes.

He presses you against the wall of the drawing room, yanking down your bodice now, and you gasp, eyes rolling back as he kisses and bites, as your cunt grinds where he’s so hard, as you want more impossibly more. And from him!? But you can’t remember a goddamn thing he did when he looks at you like that, when he cups your face, pressing you further.

“I need you, fuck I need you.” He says then, and you can’t respond, as your mind swirls. “Are you innocent still? I don’t even care, I won’t judge you, I just need to know if we take this to my bed or I fuck you here.”

As he’s whispering, you blink back tears, sucking in a breath. “We shouldn’t do this, Satoru.”

His eyes get heady, glazed over as he grinds again. “Fuck, my name on your lips?”

“Satoru I… I am still-”

“Your grace, your mistress and Lady Elaine are both here for you.” Satoru’s butler says then, clearing his throat, and it’s like someone threw a bucket of water all over you. Satoru looks in horror as he watches you break, as you shove and shove until he lets you go.

“I am stupid, you’re right.” You whisper then, running, and he’s running after you, shoving past the butler, and you run almost into them, those ladies giggling and sipping wine in your home.

But it’s not your home.

“Please, it was before this. I’ll send them home!” He pleads as he catches you on the stairway, and the ladies are scowling at you, making you so goddamn angry, you shove at him, and he yanks at you. “I want you! I want you!”

“You never did. It’s a game! That's all I am to you.” You sob uncontrollably, hunching over as he clutches you, and you wriggle in his hold. “I hate you!”

“I swear, I didn’t… I didn’t know we’d…” He cups your face then, gulping, his lips tremulous. “I had no clue I’d ever get you like this. I don’t want it to end, not this… I want tonight to be about you, about you only. Please.”

“You knew they’d be here! Is this funny to you? Toying with my goddamn emotions, making me think you could… we could… Ugh!” You shove past him again, running to your room in your pretty silver heels, clicking up the steps, lifting your skirts, and you hear those women now, making your blood boil.

“Duke Gojo-”

“Fuck off.” He shouts back, chasing you, but you’re already in your room, and you’re trying to shut it. “They’ll go home, I swear. Please, let me… let me just touch you more, taste you more. You can do nothing to me if you don’t want to. Please.” He’s pleading now, as you’re trying to shut the door on him, and you can barely look at him, it hurts so bad.

“It’s a game.”

“It’s not!”

“It all is to you. You mean to break me in other manners.”

“No I do not!”

“Then tell me, why do you hate me!? Why!?” He blinks then, opening his mouth, then exhaling, hands reaching for your face, hands that feel too perfect on your skin, hands that made you forget. “You cannot open up to me, you cannot do anything but confuse me. You go down there with them, have your fun, what do I even care, I’m nothing to you!”

“I want you goddammit, you! They’re nothing compared to you.” He speaks through gritted teeth, and you want to believe it, but you steel yourself, as much as you can, shaking your head. “I swear it. I swear it, let me show you…”

“You’ve made enough of a fool of me. Imagine me thinking you could be my first? After…” He pauses, eyes wide, and you shake with your emotion. “I’m an idiot. You were right.”

“I am the idiot. Fuck I know it. Please, give me tonight, please.” He keeps cupping your face, as you hear his women laughing.

“They laugh at me. I’m a joke.”

“You’re-”

“I am. A laughingstock. But at least before I had my dignity, now you strip even that away! Go, I shall never be a fool again.”

He growls, grabbing at you tightly. “Goddamit, stop this, just let me try!”

“I can’t take it. I can’t.” You sob harder as you finally shut the door on his forlorn face, and he’s smacking the door with an angry fist, as you gently touch the door where his hand is, resting your head on it. “I wish it was real.” You whisper, against your will, and you feel another thud on the door.

“Please let me in, please.”

“It hurts too goddamn much. Play your games with someone else. I can’t take this. I can’t.” You feel yourself losing control, and finally you’re sliding down the door, curling into a ball and sobbing, and it takes a long, long time to calm down, to stop banging on the door.

“Please, I’m begging you, open this door. Even if we… even if I just look at you, please.” Your eyes are so full of tears they burn, at his emotional voice, but it’s got to be an act, it’s got to be!

You’re stupid.

You’re so stupid.

You hate yourself for this.

How could you!?

You almost…

“It was real.” He whispers finally, before you hear one more punch at your door, then hear his thuds as he leaves. And your mind wracks, with what will happen, what you’ve done.

What have you done?

And was he in their arms, as you held yourself and cried?

Or was he truly…

You hear nothing that night, but who knows, what if they’re in the dining hall, in the kitchens… you hear nothing as you climb into your bed, aside from a sob ripped from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You sit up in the bed, heart pounding, talking yourself out of this, out of this folly.

He’s cruel.

It’s a game.

You’ve wronged Nanami Kento now.

Someone who really cares.

For what!?

You touch the cold wall of your room, where his bed is on the other side, a bed you’ve never slept in, a bed you’d have let him fuck you in tonight. How could you, how could you, stupid, stupid, stupid. Those women were waiting, and who knows, what if he was fucking them now!?

What do you care!?

You care.

Fuck you care.

You stomp out of the room an hour later, throat so tight, Satoru always takes your goddamn breath, he never gives you oxygen, just pain, just confusion. You tense as you walk past his room, and you expect it, his women, but Satoru is alone in the night, in his bed, bare back strong as he shivers against the cold, his window wide open.

You hate when you step in, when you shut the window with a quiet click, and you see him sleep for the first time. You hate when you pull up his thick blue blankets over his bare upper body, when he moans in his sleep, and turns his head, so the moonlight illuminates his face. You hate when you caress his cheek with a finger, and you hate when his lips part with a sigh.

You hate how you want to kiss his forehead, you hate how you can’t find the proper way to be mad at him enough. You sigh then, blowing out the candle barely flickering by his bed, brushing soft white hair back one more time, before padding out quietly, shutting the door behind you, resting your back on it.

You can’t be feeling this. He’ll only make a fool of you. So what if he maybe sent them home early? What’s it matter? You should know better. You go back to your room then, laying in your gigantic bed, all alone, empty, as tears fall on your pillow, as you wonder if you should have let him in, but how can you?

Your eyes shut, and you flit from dream to dream, in flitful images, as the heavy weight in your heart fills, as you remember all he’s done, all he’s said, and how easily you almost forgot it with his kisses. His tongue. His eyes. The way Satoru consumed your mind, until it was nothing but him.

Who is Satoru Gojo, was he this cruel man or was he perhaps something more? Why do you care so much?

You finally cry yourself to sleep, dreading what the reality of tomorrow brings, and hating especially that you had to tell someone you care about that you’re horrible. Nanami’s handsome face makes your heart sink, as you realize you’ll lose him, and you’ve lost yourself, all for that man, a man you don’t know, a man who drowns you just existing.

A man that makes it so hard to breathe.

Until the next one dear masochistic readers <3

Part Seven

#satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #duke gojo #bridgerton au #royalty au #arranged marriage #so much angst #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #silent serenades

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tame-the-lion-writes · 16 days ago

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alpha!slasher!königx omega!reader

CW: implied murder, (and in bonus thoughts) implied kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Damn pheromones.

If it weren't for petty social sensibilities, König would be clamping a hand over his nose to stifle the thoughts--and scents--running through his mind. In the past, it wasn't so bad. Alphas like him were drawn but could otherwise stand their existence(--at least until the addicting whiff of a heat). But omegas smelled so artificial these days; sickly sweet, like candy, or even worse--chemicals. Perfumes made to amplify the already-overwhelming smell of sugar. More like cough medicine hacked down with two bottles of water. And even a spoonful was far too much.

But the woman across the table seemed to flaunt that.

Silly thing--he thought. Pretty, by all standards, as omegas often were, but silly. Sure, he'd agreed to court her and bring her to a high class restaurant, just as his salary and rank could provide, but that cherry red smile on her lips seemed as plastic-ridden as the patch on her neck. Artificial enhancers. As he's learned in the past three and a half decades of being mate-less, it had become a staple.

No matter, though.

He'd get rid of the scent soon enough.

His date is going on and on about some topic he doesn't care about. Maybe commenting on the scars cutting through his face (though she doesn't seem to mind). Cherry red lips parting and teeth shining, but he doesn't hear a word. There's a gag waiting for her at the back of his car, anyway--and scent blockers ready to be forced down her throat. Did the police ever think about that, he wonders?--how scent blockers made it so easy to disappear without a trace? Stupid creatures hadn't learned to investigate without relying on their nose.

(And even if they had, he'd left no paper trails; he was a dead man walking, at least on paper, thanks to convenient career aspirations.)

But before he could reach on over, suggest an escape to elsewhere--(from life itself)--up came the sweet young thing holding a notepad in hand, apron around the waist, apologizing that the other waitress had clocked out for the evening, and that she was here to take over. And König's hand stops, hovering over the edge of the table, a light, unnoticeable tremble to it as he finally breathes in.

Subtle. Subtle.

Almonds. Cinnamon. Warm bread and butter.

He licks his lips subconsciously, tasting the warmth as he swallows.

König leaves the restaurant that night, still letting the other omega cling to his arm, but he returns a week later--(it's all he could wait)--alone because, "things just didn't work out." But of course, you take him at his word: he looks surprised to see you again, and squints as if to re-read your nametag. But really, he's learned your schedule, the make and model of your car. The license plate, registration number--the address of your apartment. (Of course he has--why wouldn't he?--) Not once have you left his mind. Because you're something new to him, new to occupy it--how strange; how precious.

-- And not too sweet.

Bonus Thoughts:

König continues to visit, and though you find it strange he goes alone--the restaurant is more popular with couples after all--you start to look forward to seeing him now and then. König's patient the first month or so, upping the frequency only little by little, because at first, he's convinced that seeing you from a distance every night is enough.

But patience only lasts so long.

He finally asks you out on a date, and you agree.

There's a few dates, really. (Can't have you disappearing from your friends' lives the moment you mention going out with him, after all.) A few dates before it happens.

You can't recall going to his house, or even his car. And you certainly don't recall getting into a bed that smells just like him (--cold metal, maybe iron, maybe from him--maybe from something else--)

You're about to unwind from the (admittedly warm and comfortable) bundle of sheets around you when König walks in, carrying a tray of freshly cooked food, and sets it down nearby. Before you can ask any questions, he's shoving his face into the crook of your neck. Brushing his nose against your scent gland--almost purring.

"K-König? Where am I? What are you doing--"

"Shh, Mäuschen. It's alright. You're home."

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hitomisuzuya · 19 days ago

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gamer!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. collar and leash. degradation. praise. ego stroking. cream pie. consensual sex during a live stream.

scaramouche has always been two things: kinky and full of himself. he'd been stuck on the same boss in a game for weeks, gaining more and more viewers each day thanks to his sheer determination to beat it and his colorful commentary.

seeing his viewer count sky rocketing, he as well as his cock got a brilliant idea. he wants to fuck during his livestream once he achieved certain victory. he wanted to rub it in all his viewers faces that he had a warm, tight pussy to fuck his cock into after a job well done. he wanted everyone to see what they could never have.

he, of course, had a discussion with you about it first. if he didn't have your consent, then the plan was a no go. it would've been scrapped immediately.

today was the day, he was sure of it. he'd even carefully picked out a new collar and leash for you to wear. a cute black collar with rings that jingled on it when you moved your head that was now fastened around your neck. the leash loosely wrapped around his hand while you sat in his lap.

he was already showing off how lucky he is to have such a willing and submissive pet.

scaramouche knew his victory was all but assured. he knew that the moment he started the level. and there you were, whispering such arousing praise in his ear for nailing each and every shot he took. arousing praise that stretched his ego, and made his cock strain in his jeans.

once he landed the final shot, taking the boss's health bar down from one percent to zero, his lips immediately crashed against yours in a hungry, open mouthed kiss. and you are more than happy to let him soak in his victory in a way he deserves. he worked so so hard.

"i fucking showed that boss who is the best," scaramouche said shakily, his teeth hastily biting at your lips, "i showed him i was superior," he rutted into your hand as it pumped on his cock.

"yes, scara, you did," you replied, massaging your thumb over his leaking cock head, "you were amazing. the absolute best. no one played better than you," you ran the fingers of your free hand through his hair, leaning in to deliver a few submissive kitten licks to his mouth.

scaramouche moaned at your submissive action, your words of adoring praise making more precum bead onto the tip of his cock. the way you moaned softly when he tugged on the leash, bringing your lips down on his again and forcing his tongue into your mouth only served to stretch his ego more.

it was a long, drawn out kiss. passionate and open mouthed. you gently squeezed his cock, increasing the pace of your hand as you kissed him back. "the absolute best. nationally ranked players could never hope to play as good as you," you continued, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to yours as you pulled away.

"put that pretty pussy of yours on my cock," scaramouche commanded, sending a shiver up your spine, "let me feel how wet you are, slut," he smacked a hand across your ass.

you so sweetly obliged him, moving your panties aside and shifting in his lap so his cock rested between your folds. you rolled your hips, grinding his cock against your clit. "fuck, so fucking wet for me. good girl," he groaned, his eyes nearly rolling closed feeling your pussy soaking on his cock.

he could hear his chat box going off wildly. and he knew exactly why. he has your back turned towards the camera. he knew they wanted to same perfect view he had of your pussy grinding so doting on his cock.

scaramouche turned his computer chair to a side angle, a smirk curling the corners of his lips as he tugged on the leash again. that way everyone could see what they would never have. what was his.

soft moans has long since started to sound from you, growing a little louder the more his cock drug friction on your throbbing clit. you were getting restless straddling in his lap, your cheeks dusted in a shy flush. he could cum right there knowing you could get off just by rubbing yourself needily on his cock.

an idea to save for a later stream perhaps, if this became a consistent thing. "on the bed, ass up," he hissed, roughly groping your ass before smacking it again. he gave one of your nipples a demanding pinch.

your pussy clenched feeling the sting of his hand. he groaned as you kitten licked his mouth again before sliding off his lap. getting on your hands and knees, you went down on your elbows, angling your lips up and giving him a mouth watering view of your puffy pussy. you swayed your hips temptingly as he crawled on the bed behind you.

"look at my submissive pet," scaramouche happily gloated with pride. you are the only woman he could ever, ever want. he was going to fucking ruin you. "do i have a fucking skill issue now, shitheads?" he lined his cock up with your entrance, wrapping the leash around his hand again. "tell them how good i always fuck you while you cream on my cock, whore."

he pushed down on your back, arching it down as he stuffed his cock inside of you. he wasted no time bottoming out, tugging your hips back on his cock so you would feel every sensitive burst of pleasure as his cock stretched you apart.

the silver rings on your collar jingled in time with his thrusts. he knew a good majority of the guys watching had their hands on their cocks, fisting it to the image of his cock pumping in and out of you, keening the sweetest whimpers and moans from you as you struggled to find the words he demanded.

"only you can fuck me this good!" you cried out, your walls squeezing tighter around his cock as it hammered accurately into your sweet spot. "only you, scara! only you!" as shy as you felt, you soon lost yourself in the pleasure of his cock fucking so deep into you. "only your cock can make me feel this good!" the words tumbled out of your mouth.

"look at this cock drunk slut," scaramouche laughed shakily, turning your head a little more so everyone else could see the fucked out expression on your face. "ah fuck, so fucking tight. you are going to cream on my cock like a total whore, aren't you?" if he hadn't been holding the leash on his hand for leverage, his other hand tightly on your hip holding you in place as he fucked his cock harsher into you, he would've covered his mouth a stifle the whimper bubbling up on his throat. you always clench so tightly when he degraded you.

if aggressive passion has a tangible form, scaramouche was it.

the only warning he got before you were creaming hard on his cock was your lewd wails of pleasure. his cock snapped the knot of your building orgasm apart, overloading your senses. you felt practically limp in his grasp, drooling pooling onto his sheets.

and it was so fucking satisfying to scaramouche.

scaramouche's chat box was blowing up with suggestions on what he should do to you next. suggestions he would look at when he wasn't busy emptying a victory cumshot into your pussy. "take it all like the good slut you are," he moaned, his thrusts turning sloppy for a moment as his cock roped cum inside of you.

cum seeped around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm. "and that's how it's done" he said, panting a little as he pulled out. he gave your ass an appreciative smack as he pulled out. hooking his fingers through the collar, he rolled you over onto your back.

he pressed a soft, loving kiss on your lips, rubbing your clit for a few minutes to enjoy the way you grinded weakly on his fingers. he nuzzled his forehead against yours before he turned his head to look at his webcam. "you shitheads can fuck off for the night now. i have something precious to take of now."

scaramouche promptly turned off his webcam, disconnected the stream and turned his attention to your aftercare.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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juletheghoul · 3 months ago

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Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. (I kept Tess out of this story) Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker) (Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too.

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown.

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features.

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?”

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it.

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating.

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view.

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it.

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out.

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate.

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing.

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand.

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over.

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit.

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him.

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms.

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness.

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs.

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this.

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap.

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly.

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes.

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you.

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up.

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance.

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly.

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck.

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time.

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him.

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward.

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it.

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes.

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you.

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity.

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you.

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands.

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was.

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up.

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels.

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass.

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it.

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn��t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it.

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come.

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away.

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic.

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front.

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men.

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

His hands always shake before it starts.

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you.

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back.

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it.

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps.

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs.

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly.

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him.

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them.

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent.

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety.

His body always betrays him.

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way.

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you.

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath.

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise.

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway.

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face.

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you.

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly.

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body.

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come.

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face.

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now.

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm.

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it.

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self.

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches.

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback.

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks.

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest.

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze.

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone.

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time.

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navybrat817 · 11 months ago

Note

" Scraping their teeth over your neck to have a shiver of arousal run down your spine. "

With Bucky. 🥺

This probably didn't go the way anyone wants, nonnie, and I'm sorry!

Give Me a Name

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Tension, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, pet names, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Because who doesn't want a mob boss obsessed with them? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Today was a not-so-friendly reminder that mistakes in your job weren’t so easy to fix. You had been in pursuit of a target for weeks and finally managed to catch him. The rookie agent, however, didn’t secure the cuffs and the bastard managed to get a hard hit in when he broke free. The dizziness from the blow was enough to let him get away.

The rookie went after him, but you knew he wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to start all over with tracking him and you didn’t even get a chance to go home to lick your wounds. Not when Bucky’s men showed up and put you in a car.

You should’ve known they were close by.

“I can walk!” You argued minutes later when they brought you to the Barnes mansion. The mob boss had a few homes, but this one had been in the family for years. He had invited you here before, but never took you by force.

Until today.

The men carefully arranged you on a leather sofa in the den before one of them went to get their boss. He hadn’t left the room before the door flew open, the very man he went to find standing there with a look thunderous enough to kill. He snatched something out of one of his soldier’s hands before he went to you, no one daring to speak a word.

You held your breath as you glanced at Bucky. He had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up as he assessed you, the veins in his arms popped out as he clenched his fists. He was built like a soldier with his massive frame, his life story told in the tattoos and scars that adorned his covered skin. The notorious crime lord more than earned his reputation and he promised he’d tell you his story himself one day.

Today wouldn’t be that day.

He brushed some of his long hair from his eyes before crouching down beside you. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he dabbed at your cheek with the cloth. He stopped when you winced, but you gave him a small smile to let him know he could continue. You didn’t expect tenderness from such a rough man, but you were different to him, weren’t you? You had been since the two of you crossed paths some time ago. Why?

What made you so special?

“Who did this to you?” He asked in a low voice. You could hear that he tried to keep the raging storm inside of him, but his icy eyes showed you everything. The growing fury was bound to come out. Who would he destroy in his path to sate the beast?

“Bucky. I’m fine,” you croaked as you tried to sit up more, but he stopped you from moving. “The guy got lucky and it isn’t anything I haven’t faced before. Just let me get back to work,” you said.

You noticed most of the men nearby avoided eye contact when you looked around. They had every reason to be afraid. James Buchanan Barnes was downright terrifying when crossed.

And crossing you was a worse offense in his eyes.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, though he didn't raise his voice. “Tell me his fucking name so I can take care of it.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. If you did, he’d kill him. No, he’d torture him first. Likely for days on end before he begged for death. And you needed him alive.

That was your job.

Yet, you could never find it in yourself to bring Bucky in.

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

You froze at the cold tone before you realized Bucky didn’t direct that statement at you. One of his men standing feet away turned his head to the side because he got caught staring. You should’ve known better. Whatever cat and mouse game you and the mob boss were playing, it was for him to catch you in his trap, but never hurt you.

Not when he wanted to keep you.

“I’m sorry, boss,” the man promised, his tone wavering when Bucky reached for one of his pistols. “I-”

“‘Cause I’ll do it in a heartbeat and never look back if you glance at her again,” he promised. He was a man of his word. “Leave us. All of you. Now.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you assured him as they filed out. The men were dangerous, but you weren’t about to let him shoot the poor guy for looking your way.

“It isn't okay. Someone put their hands on you,” he nearly growled, the soft touch to your cheek a stark contrast to his voice. “You think I can let that go? I can’t. I won’t.”

You brought a hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. His eyes shut for a moment and grabbed your wrist before you could pull away. He dragged your fingers through the short beard along his jaw, like he was starved of your touch and needed more. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted him.

Not when you belonged in different worlds.

“You don’t have to ‘avenge’ me, Bucky, because I’m not yours,” you said carefully. Were you telling him for his sake or yours? “Let it go. Please.”

The storm continued to rage in his eyes when he opened them and you wondered who would win the battle of the wills. You held your breath again when he moved close, the scent of his woodsy cologne making your head spin. Instead of brushing his lips against yours, he brought his mouth to your neck. Scraping his teeth over your pulse, you couldn’t stop the shiver of arousal that moved down your spine.

“You are mine, Kisa,” he whispered, giving your neck another nip as you tried not to whimper. “And I’m going to find out who did this whether you tell me or not. And I’m going to kill him.”

Your heart shouldn’t have raced faster at his declaration. “If I tell you, will you let me go home?”

“You are home,” he replied, pulling away and looking into your eyes so you could see how serious he was. “And I’d feel a lot better if you got some rest in my bedroom.”

You shuddered because you both knew you wouldn’t get a wink of rest if he took you to bed. And if you slept with him, there would be no turning back. “You can’t keep me prisoner here, Winter.”

The cold and ruthless man who only wanted you.

“You’re not my prisoner, Kisa,” he said, pressing his lips softly to your pained cheek. “But I’m never letting you go.”

He’d prove that to you.

I don't know about you lovelies, but I kind of love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months ago

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Star gazing with Eddie and venom, it be like a cute date that was totally venom idea but won't admit it and reader enjoying her time with them

.⋆｡Stars and Us｡⋆.

Eddie Brock x plus size reader

With no other options left, Eddie is forced to listen to his parasitic friend who’s secretly a massive romantic.

Warnings: fluff, Venom doesn’t have feelings (it totally does), brief mentions of smut WC: 1k

6k Follower Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Eddie wasn’t quite panicking, but he was close. He could at least convince himself that he had everything under control despite the end of the week looming ever closer. It was your three month anniversary. Three blissful months with the most incredible human he had ever met and even if you insisted that you didn’t need any big celebration, Eddie knew better. You deserved to be celebrated and worshiped, the only problem was, he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

The man was five articles deep on the best anniversary ideas but none of them would be perfect (or cheap enough). “Maybe she’d appreciate half a dozen orgasms and some shitty take out.” Eddie grunted as his forehead hit the desk, abandoning his quest with a whimper.

“That’s what you do every week.” Venom curled itself around Eddie’s broad shoulders, its white eyes skimming over the section on a Parisian getaway before looking down at its pouting host.

“It’s worked this far hasn’t it?”

“Pathetic.” Eddie’s head spun around so quickly his neck clicked. Venom sighed heavily and slunk back towards the kitchen. “You claim to love this human yet you do not put in any effort into seducing her. You just throw her around and expect her to enjoy it.” It plucked up a chocolate bar with a thin tendril, waving it in the air before it threw the sweet into its wide maw.

“Why are you suddenly an expert on dating? Last I checked, you barely even tolerated having her around if she wasn’t feeding you.” Venom scowled, releasing a soft growl as he licked his teeth clean.

“You chose her as a mate, do not judge how I deal with it.” Eddie sighed and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. You would be home soon and he was running out of free time until it was your anniversary.

“Well, do you have any bright ideas on what I should do if you’re so smart.” Venom hummed, seeping back into Eddie just as your heels clicked up the hall.

“I may have an idea.”

——————

“I told you that we didn’t have to do anything today.” You giggled as Eddie helped you off his bike, his large hands deliberately lingering on your hips even after you found your footing. He just smirked and pressed a quick kiss to your full cheek as he reached behind you for the bag propped up behind your seat.

“And miss this chance to spoil you? Absolutely not.” You clung to his free arm, squeezing the hard muscle of his biceps as Eddie led you towards the empty field sprawled out in front of you.

“You aren’t gonna kill me are you? Cause I didn’t tell my roommate where I was going tonight and I need someone to feed my fish for me.” Even though it was just shy of pitch black, you knew Eddie was rolling his eyes. His arm slipped from your hold for just a second and before you could reach around again for it, he grabbed your ass and gave it a generous squeeze.

Your surprised yelp carried across the field, as did Eddie’s accompanying laughter. “Hands off the goods, handsome.” You scolded but took his hand back in yours anyway, your fingers intertwining.

“Sorry princess.” Soon enough, you both slowed, coming to a patch where the grass wasn’t as long and the sound of crickets seemed to dull slightly. With another kiss to your cheek, Eddie pulled a blanket from his bag, laying it out perfectly with a flick of his wrists.

“Shit Brock, you practise that just for me?”

“I was single for a long time, baby, these wrists have put in some real work.” You scrunched your nose and shoved him off you as Eddie went for another kiss.

“You’re disgusting.” But it came out as more of a giggle than anything else.

“And yet, you love the things these wrists can do.” He purred against your lips.

Your arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer. “Oh you bet I do.” Just like always, you melted into his kiss, eagerly lapping up his affection as he held your waist to him. Just as his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, Eddie flinched and pulled away.

“Yeah, I hear you, there’s no need to threaten my liver.”

“What’s Venom saying?” You asked with a voice full of fondness.

“Just reminding me why we brought you here in the first place.” He helped you down onto the blanket before joining you. Eddie guided your head to his chest as you wrapped yourself around him and finally looked up.

Millions of stars stretched across the night sky, each one shimmering brilliantly from their place in the universe. They clumped together like strokes of a paintbrush reaching all the way down to the horizon. “Wow.” You breathed. “I never knew you could see so many stars so close to the city. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s fingers gently ran up and down your back as he hummed. “Yeah you are.”

You tore your gaze away to look at your boyfriend, who was already looking at you. Heat crawled up your cheeks and you turned away. “Fucking sap.” You muttered as his chest rumbled with soft laughter.

He kissed the top of your head and finally joined you in watching the galaxy go by.

“This is perfect Eds. Where did you come up with this?”

“Had some help from Venom. I was just gonna eat you out till you passed out.” You jammed your finger into his ribs just as Venom did the same thing from inside him. “Hey! I can’t have you both teaming up against me! I’m fragile.”

“Yeah right.” You said as Venom echoed the same sentiment, making Eddie smirk. “Will you thank it for me then, I don’t think I’ve ever had a man be this romantic for me before.”

Venom remained silent but Eddie could tell just how pleased it was. “I will. Happy 3 months princess.”

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lokisgoodgirl · 4 months ago

Text

The Rite: Consequence (VI)

A link to The Rite Masterlist is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (6) It's the day of The Rite 🙈And whether Loki succeeds or fails in capturing your pleasure (and your heart) - there will be consequences. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Asgardians behaving badly. Smut. I am begging, pleading for your trust. (w/c 5.6k)

Loki blocked the fall of the blade with a hanging guard, catching his brother’s wild stare through the angle of his arm.

Dust scraped across his eyes from the training ring, but he blinked it away. They both glistened with mid-afternoon sweat - muscles straining; all hard veins and gritted teeth.

Loki licked his lips, tasting salt, and his arm began to quiver beneath the press of his brother’s blade – but he wouldn’t relent. He never did.

The Rite was only hours away.

It began at sundown. He wasn’t allowed to see you, and beating his brother into the dirt was as good a distraction as any. Better than the ones I’m used to.

And besides, after the two of you had talked until sunrise – about everything and anything that avoided the question of love – there was nothing more to be done.

If Fandral had told you about the second part of The Rite, he was glad you hadn’t raised it. He didn’t think he could bear knowing its outcome in advance. Better the short, sharp shock of shame than its clammy shadow. Better to whisper in your ear and devour your lips and feel your hand searching the angles of him until he was sick with painful desire.

“Yield,” Loki grit. A thick strand of hair had come loose, trailing over his vision. The furrow of Thor’s frown grew deeper.

“Why would I? I have you on the run, little brother.” A soft grunt broke in Loki’s throat. He flexed his shoulder and parried Thor’s sword to the side with force, kicking the blonde’s left foot from under him in the same movement. Thor slammed down into the sand; sprawling and sword clattered against the stone beneath.

“You don’t fight fair, Loki” “Maybe you should fight better.” Thor scrambled to his feet, sand sticking in clumps to the sweat gathered on his chest. “I am the greatest warrior this realm has ever known because I fight with honour.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Honour,” he spat. “At least you shan’t have your ill-gotten reputation in the histories as its greatest lover for much longer.” Thor hacked a wad of dust-gritted saliva and spat it to his feet. He looked up with a twisted smile. “I don’t know about that, Loki. Of the two of us you’ve always been seen as the bigger whore. A talented one for certain, but a whore all the same. And soon enough, your Rite partner will join the throng; be forgotten like the rest.” Before he knew it, Loki’s dagger was at Thor’s throat.

His vision flashed white, and behind him came the jangle of armoured guards, circling them with their spears readied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor’s hands rise to steady them.

“Brother…” Thor said slowly, “I know you’re nervous, but killing me really would remove any chance you have at the succession—”

“—I won’t take insult from those who wax lyrical about honour and leave their loin’s fruit to the vultures.” Thor frowned. “What are you talking about?” He tried to look down at the blade glinting by his thorax and only succeeded in nicking his skin. “Ow.” Loki released a withering sigh, flipping the dagger away and kicking Thor’s foot from beneath him. The other one, this time. His brother crumpled like a wet towel. He turned, seeing several of the guards’ facial expressions flinch between the gaps in their helmets.

“Disperse,” he muttered, striding past them and wondering mildly how long it would be until Odin found out. He needed to bathe. He needed to be alone. I need to be with her. But he couldn’t have that; so alone, it would be.

“Don’t worry brother,” he said dryly as he scraped sweat-soaked hair off his face. “I’m sure none of father’s spies will impart that you were bested by a whore.” Thor’s blustering protestations made a smirk curl the corner of his mouth. He must remember to tell you about this, when all was said and done: when the succession was set in stone, when the home for abandoned children was secured, when he knew that you loved him. And as he exited the training ring, Loki realised with horrifying clarity that one of those possibilities hung around his neck like a millstone: heavier than the others – threatening to collapse him to his knees.

If she loves me, he re-worded in his mind, beginning to walk a little quicker to the safety of solitude.

You’d been woken in late morning and bustled with minimal ceremony to the private baths on the upper floors of the palace.

Once there, your day-gown had been stripped by a flurry of exquisitely beautiful maids; each dressed in blue fabric as thin as gauze, hair like pure, precious metals. How you hated them.

You hadn’t realised you wouldn’t see Loki until The Rite itself until he’d told you last night before you parted ways. You’d kissed him so roughly against the wall, fingers digging into his scalp, that you’d almost passed out from lack of oxygen.

And now…here, with the most impossibly beautiful nymphs in all of Asgard – it felt like there was no time. You need to be near him. Isn’t that how love works? But then, you wouldn’t know. You suddenly wondered if absence before the ceremony was really part of the tradition, or if Odin and the rest of them were trying to keep you apart. Hoping he’ll fail. —Stop being so paranoid.

Steam rose from the hot spring, undulating like flame as one of the nymphs massaged your shoulders. I wonder what Loki’s doing. Does he miss me? Is he nervous…? You lifted one calf out of the water where you’d perched at the edge of the baths, the scent of orange oil thick in your nostrils. Suddenly the fingers stopped working, and she leant down. “Loki’s very good, you know. Everyone knows it’s his favourite thing to do to a woman, or a man. You’re so lucky.” She giggled, and your stomach tightened with a wave of inexplicable anger. “I’m jealous. They say he does this thing with his tongue that—" “—Oh hush, Mavor.” You winced as Frigga’s chide sparked like a lit match. She settled, dangling her feet in the pool beside yours. “Leave the poor girl alone, I’m sure the past few days have been much to contend with.”

You turned fractionally, almost blinded by the golden assault of her sunlit hair. She’s staring at you, faint crows-feet scrunched from the vaguely discomforting smile on her lips. “What happened last night with Fandral was improper. What must you think of us?” “I don’t think it of you,” you lied, memories of the sick little girl cinching tight around your mind; the fact that Fandral and all the other court-wankers had no clue that Loki was the one clearing up their mess, doing any real good. But it was a secret, and a secret it would remain.

And then you remembered what Lagertha said when the nurse had thanked the gods. ‘Not the gods,’ she’d said, beaming with pride as Loki blushed. ‘This one’s the only one worth having.’

Frigga’s close-lipped smile grew. “We can’t blame Fandral for being in love with Loki, even if his methods were…”

Your eyebrow rose. “Petty? Spiteful? Unforgiveable?”

Frigga laughed: a practiced, twinkling chirp. “When you live as long as we do, dear…nothing is truly unforgivable.”

You frowned, vision blurring as you stifled an eyeroll and Freya continued. “Perhaps you understand how he feels…now that you’ve gotten to know my second son a little better.” “You want to know if I love him, is that it? Well, I don't know.”

Shame swelled under your thin bathing gown, and Frigga inhaled quietly. “I of all people in this palace understand that words matter less than what we feel in here-” she said, pressing a fan of fingers to her chest. “You may think our customs strange, but they were born from centuries of upheaval and selfishness of our rulers. Markers needed to be set. It’s important that the general populace knows nothing of the second requirement of The Rite. It’s sacred.” You let out a petulant sigh. Don’t sass the queen, you willed, staring ahead at the water spilling over the edge of the balcony to a waterfall below.

Frigga cleared her throat. “The Rite ensures that those in line for succession can put another before themselves, represented through giving pleasure – and can capture their heart, their love—” “—Yes…I know that now,” you spat, eyes blazing towards her. “No thanks to any of you. Fandral had to tell me, of all people. Couldn’t resist rubbing it in my face that I’d fail Loki.”

Frigga’s face fell. But now you’d started, you couldn’t stop.

“And besides…Odin, Thor…they cheated the system, didn’t they? You and Odin were engaged! Sif was pretty much raised on a diet of Thor-infatuation.” You shook your head, heat flushing up your neck. “I didn’t say it was perfect,” Frigga said. “But the succession cannot be risked. And despite your current ingratiation, you are an outsider; you cannot understand these things.” “Oh,” you said, choosing to ignore her honey-drenched barb. “It can’t be risked, I see…unless it’s Loki, the one no one cares about?”

Despite her mask of diplomacy, irritation rippled on Frigga’s face.

“He had many options, and every opportunity,” she said through perfectly straight, gritted, teeth. “And he squandered every one of them. But something’s changed these past centuries in him. Something in these past weeks, too. A mystery, certainly.”

She stood, and the wet length of her glittering gown slopped across the floor. “Although I’m pleased to see you feel so strongly in his defence – it bodes well for his performance. Perhaps he’ll succeed after all.”

Your snorted. “And if I fail him, Fandral can step in: problem solved.” Frigga sighed, waving away an approaching nymph who skittered gratefully backwards.

“That’s not how it works,” Frigga said with a cloying sweetness, "- Loki would fail you: he would have failed to bring you pleasure, and capture your heart in a meaningful way. He only has one chance at fulfilling The Rite, at joining the succession. I did urge him to wait another 500 years but..."

She gave a delicate shrug. "And besides, in his haste to tarnish you…Fandral excluded himself from ever being eligible. The arousal of a god touched his skin. You should have seen his face when he realised he’d neglected to don the gloves in his pocket: pompous little oaf.”

A whirl of butterflies erupted in your gut. “So, you see, my dear…” Frigga tipped your chin up to meet her eyes. “You are my son’s only chance…”

You looked up at her: the glint in her beautiful irises – and for the first time you saw something more than the performance she presented to the court. Mischief. “My son’s…and those sweet little children.” A smile curled at her wine-stained lips. “And I hope you are prepared for the consequences of that.”

The silent, unbroken stare shattered as the doors burst open and Lagertha hobbled inside with an entourage of three. They held something in their arms like a dead snake, spread between them, covered in thick cotton and secured with the Asgardian royal seal in five places along its length.

Lagertha clapped her hands twice and you couldn’t help but smile at the irreverence on her face as she cast an imperious glance around the room. “There she is,” she said, waving you towards her. “Come, come – we haven’t got all day. Sun will be setting soon.”

You jumped up and scooted over, and immediately her surprisingly iron grip fastened to your bicep. “Loki sends his well wishes,” she hissed abruptly, “hopes his mother ain’t been too much of a cow.”

You pressed your lips together. “He’s alright? He’s not…” “Nervous? Course he is, dear. Near-on shitting himself. Not that he’d say that out loud, but I’ve known him a long time…the real him, like you do. Bless his silken hose. But now…we need to focus on you.”

Minutes passed in a blur as one of Lagertha’s deputy Weaving Crone who wasn’t quite so nobbled rolled out a small podium. You mounted it, following instructions to raise your arms and soon the dress was pulled over your head and in a heap on the floor.

A mirror was wheeled from somewhere, and behind your naked body you tried not to look at Frigga perched on a chaise, supping from a goblet.

Over your shoulder, the assistant crones were unpacking the snake-like thing. It must’ve been twenty feet long, and as it unfurled, your breath hitched. They held up the part which went over your arms, pacing forward reverently. It was as sheer as cobweb, tiny golden flecks weaved into the impossibly fine threads.

It slid up your skin like liquid moonlight. The fabric kissed your flesh like the graze of a lover, and beside you, Lagertha smiled.

You eyed your reflection warily. “How many people will see me in this?” “Just focus on the prince, dear.” “How many, Lagertha?” Her eyes flickered up to yours before taking a renewed interest in straightening the sash. “No more than twenty.” “Twenty?” you hissed. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Norns. Who are they?” “Odin, Frigga, Thor…some of the high gods; selected nobles to witness. It’s an honour, remember that. For them, as well as you.” You could swear the outline of your heartbeat was visible. “Oh my god…will they see everything?” “Not everything, child,” Lagertha whispered, untying the sash loop and re-assembling it; buying time. The robes sides covered your breasts but left a gap of bare skin in the centre, gathering at the naval before the flowing, split skirt began.

“It’s all very hush hush beforehand, so the participants can’t…skew things.” “Skew things?” You saw Lagertha’s lips roll together as she tried to dampen a laugh. Her eyes darted to Frigga and quickly back to you.

“Touch ‘emselves,” she said with a straight face.

“Focus on Loki, dear.” Her voice was as calming as poppy-seed tea. “I know what I see when I see it.” She ran a nobbled hand down the curve of your waist, smoothing the fabric.

You swallowed, looking at yourself in the mirror. “How will they know if I…if I love him? How will they know if I don't know?” Lagertha spun out the silence, fussing with the fabric at your breasts. “Focus on Loki, dear,” was all she said.

And soon, you were on the move again.

After his father’s ‘motivational’ speech, Loki felt no better. Although admittedly, he did feel slightly lighter when he’d left. Lagertha’s arrival had been the only bright spot in the darkness of his mood. She’d clothed in him in the same style of ceremonial garments expected from all participants in The Rite – far less grand than yours would be, but Loki’s held more elaborate stitching than his brother’s had done centuries before: tiny runes and charms woven into the hem with wishes that whispered when he moved. “Tell her…” he’d started, realising that he didn’t know what to say. He grumbled out some inane quip about his mother. Lagertha raised an eyebrow. “I know how you feel about her, silly boy,” she said under her breath, eyeing Thor snarfing down a third plate of cold meats like he’d been raised on the streets and not in a palace. "You can't fool old Lagertha."

Loki’s chest tightened: fighting the urge to deny it, fighting the urge to let his persona of bravado take hold. “I can’t love. Everyone’s always told me I’m not…made for it.” Lagertha’s laugh caught in her throat. She made a face. “Who? Him?” She yanked her head towards Thor leering covetously at a wheel of cheese. “Please,” she added under her breath. “And if she doesn’t love me?” Loki asked, voice crackling under the weight of the words.

Lagertha rolled her eyes. “It was a big ask in such a short time – any fool could see that, even your brother. But if you can…then maybe she can too.”

She shrugged, and patted his bare pecs twice. “I saw the way she looked at you when you came to get measured, and she couldn’t look away when you were playing with little Grisyna.”

Her eyebrow rose again. “Besides…if what she feels isn’t strong enough to fulfil The Rite…doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth exploring, tending.” “But the children," Loki hissed, ensuring he was out of Thor's earshot. "If I’m not in the succession, then if father finds out, he’ll—” Lagertha flapped a hand. “— We’ll figure out a way. We always have. Odin isn’t going to sweep in and decimate them – Frigga wouldn’t allow it…they’ll be shifted out somewhere, all nice and quiet so no one finds out what a bunch of unworthy vagabonds his court is.”

She reached up his neck and instinctually he stooped so her hands could cup his jaw.

“You are worthy of love, Loki Odinson. Giving and receiving,” she said quietly, searching his eyes. “No matter what some daft Rite says.”

“Brother you simply must try these prunes.”

Thor belched, pressing a fist to his mouth too late. Loki and Lagertha looked at him with matching expressions of disgust, and her hands fell from his jaw. Thor chuckled.

“Seems like your partner has competition for her place tonight,” Thor said, throwing a prune up and trying to catch it with his mouth. It hit off his eye and bounced to the floor. “I’ve been laying with gods since Odin was a sparkle in your grandfather’s eye, boy…I wouldn’t possibly qualify,” she said, gathering her things. She looked at Loki a final time, sharing a conspiratorial nod as Thor flushed pink. “Boy?!” Thor balked, as she shifted from the room with a quiet, purposeful grace. “Boy!?” he said again, marching to Loki. “That old witch is too familiar. I should have her removed from royal favour.” “You’ll do no such thing, brother,” Loki drawled, picking up a goblet of wine before setting it down again, untouched. “Who will make the garments that enchant your groin to look larger?” Thor’s cheeks began to turn violet. “That was supposed to be in confidence.” “Oh, dear.” Loki spun to his reflection, tilting his head. “Well, you’re lucky I’m very good at keeping secrets - if I choose to.”

Thor's lips pursed tight. Clearly, today would not be the one he’d break the habit of a lifetime and concoct a witty response. Loki’s gaze shifted back to himself.

The ceremonial Rite garment clung to every line of muscle like shimmering skin. It rippled at the merest breath; whether it was silver, or gold, or white depended entirely on the angle of the light. Bell sleeves draped from his wrists, hanging down to his mid-thighs and melting against his skin like dregs of foam into sand.

The fabric was split down his torso; cock on full display; sheer fabric leaving no inch of the skin beneath to the imagination. The hem of the robe brushed the floor as his bare feet shuffled, inspecting himself. He looked resplendent.

Loki sighed. “Fix my hair, will you? Or try, at least.”

A box rattled as Thor combed through a variety of pins. Loki rolled his eyes. “The gold one, with the emblem.” “Which emblem?” Thor asked, bored. “My emblem, you cretin.”

Thor worked in silence, and Loki was glad of it. His brother managed to gather the hair in a serviceable knot at the top of his head: fastened with the golden snake pin at its base. Loki’s cheekbones slashed deep shadows into his face, highlighting faint blue shadows under his eyes. The sun had almost set, and soon enough, there was a knock at the door. Thor squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you fortune, brother. May her heart be open.”

Loki waited for the quip about her legs being open too, but it didn’t come. And unlike the cowing pleasantries at last night’s feast, he felt a shiver of gratitude wrench up his spine at the sentiment.

“Thank you, brother,” he whispered, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. “I need it.”

The stone seemed to pulse beneath your feet.

You walked in procession: Frigga at the front, the Asgardian nymphs flanking you each holding a clutch of your train as the golden door grew closer. Goosebumps needled your arms beneath the silk-chiffon. ‘Just focus on the prince’, Lagertha had said. ‘Just focus on him’. Finally, the procession stopped. Frigga beat a fist on the door three times, and inside there was the muffled sound of trumpets.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Heraldry? Be serious.

The doors swung open. The hall was narrow, with padded benches lining the walls like one of those Midgard chapels and torches throwing throbbing amber hues on the floor. It was so polished that the gemstone stars set deep into the dark ceiling reflected on its surface, and your feet wobbled as the world slewed around you. “It’s alright,” the nymph to your side whispered, staring ahead. “Just keep walking.” You tried not to look at the shaded figures who populated the benches, but the curiosity was too much. Fandral sat with a sullen expression, glowering at your progress, the centre of his face marred with a purple bruise which spread to his eyes. You smirked. Frigga stopped, and stepped to the side.

And then, you inhaled sharply. Loki stood with his hands clasped behind his back: posture impeccable, body tight with braced muscles and his raven hair swept up in a devastating knot.

He wore a robe made of the same material as yours. In torchlight, it looked like pure gold – rippling with opacity in time with the flames. But still, his alabaster skin was visible beneath it. The god’s bare form was as flawless as you remembered from the night in the baths – it felt like a lifetime ago.

And yes, his cock really is that big, that perfect. You thought you might have imagined it. His face was set in ceremonial stiffness, but those eyes sparkled. He isn’t embarrassed. You decided – fuck it – you weren’t going to be embarrassed either. You opened your mouth to speak but, regrettably, Odin got in first. “Gods, nobles…you are welcome to the attempt of my second son – Loki of Asgard – at fulfilling The Rite of Successional Pleasure, and taking his place as one of the realm’s true-royal sons.”

Loki sidestepped as you found yourself guided by the nymphs holding your train, nudging you towards a raised platform at the end of the hall. A firm looking cushion sat on top of it: the deepest navy blue, scattered with silver thread.

You climbed each of the four steps, turning to the crowd of shadowed faces occupying the pews and trying to ignore the graze of your hardened nipped against the fabric. For Loki, you reminded yourself.

Looking up, you could make out a golden railing suspended from the ceiling, thin bunches of material hanging from it in thin sections. Loki mounted the steps with easy grace, cock swinging, drawing your hand to his lips when he reached the top.

“You are well?” he murmured against the skin, looking up through his lashes. Your stomach roiled with the need to kiss him, but all you could muster was a nod. A silent understanding passed between you of how fucked-up this was. “It will be over soon,” he said, brows peaking. Your lips rolled together, but as words shaped your lips—

“Loki Odinson: God of Mischief and Lies, Son of Asgard.”

Odin’s voice rang around the cloisters like a war-cry. “I command you to prove yourself worthy of the people you seek to rule by bestowing unrequited pleasure on this woman. By doing so, you prove that you can put those you rule above yourself; that if you can cultivate their love, you may one day hold the crown.”

Cultivate their love. The phrase made a shiver tighten your shoulders.

A woman even older than Lagertha shuffled up the steps, and beside you, Loki stiffened. Red markings smeared down her face, paste crusting into deep wrinkles. She gathered your hands. Her eyes closed, face tipped to the feeling. The very air seemed to sharpen. “She is untouched by a god: she has known no seed, she is eligible for the ceremonial Rite,” the woman announced. Beside you, Loki’s muscles relaxed. A nymph tapped your shoulder and you drew your eyes from Loki’s. “My lady- we need to—” “—I can do it,” Loki cut in. He observed her visible panic with clear irritation. “Nowhere does it specify this in the ceremonial texts, I assure you.”

There was a hum from the crowd, but no objections. Loki ushered you to the bed. He leant down to your ear, and the warmth of his breath ignited fierce, obscene desire in your core. The crowd, forgotten. “Lie on the bed, so that your head rests near the top," he whispered, shivers running down your limbs. "Those two women will fan the train of your robe. It’s very important that you let them arrange it how it needs to be. You’ll be restrained, but don’t fear…it will not hurt. It’s only so—” “—I don’t touch myself,” you finished. Loki smirked. “Skew the results,” he replied, eyes glittering like the gems in the ceiling. His knuckles trailed down your bicep and for that moment, there was only you and Loki in the room. “Shall we?”

You did as he’d asked, settling on your back. True enough, the two nymphs spread the train of the robe until its huge length spilled down the steps and halfway up the narrow aisle. The rest of it pooled across the bed, pearling weave undulating in shadows. When they were done, your arms were spread and satin tied to your wrists; fastened somewhere down the sides.

And all the while, Loki stood where you’d left him – facing the crowd with what you imagined was a thousand-yard-stare.

One of the nymphs approached the long material draped from the ceiling. Loki brought a hand up, clicking his fingers. The material sprung to life, metal rings scraping on metal as it worked around the railing; surrounding the bed in a circle of thin, voile fabric.

You’d been prepared to repeat Lagertha’s mantra in your head at this point, but it turned out it wasn’t only easy to focus on Loki – it was impossible not to.

He drew a portion of the curtain to the side and slipped through: utterly beautiful in his regally-repressed lust. That lithe body shifted beneath the sheer robe as he knelt on the bed: one knee, then two. You squirmed, unable to help yourself. You were already wet, arousal sliding between your thighs.

“Kiss me?” you asked quietly.

His brow furrowed, eyes falling to his crotch. He was hard. It was the first time you’d seen him erect without any clothes on. Even in the baths, he’d been underwater. Saliva welled in your mouth, heart thumping. A bead of pre-cum had already swelled at the tip. “This is rather unorthodox,” he muttered. Whispers were audible from the world beyond the curtain. Loki swallowed. “But you look so…” He swallowed again, eyelids fluttering closed and hands falling to the mattress. “I’ll get seed on you. And we can’t have that. Not now.” “Not now,” you agreed as your legs parted.

Loki’s breath hitched as he drew the sliver of fabric covering your crotch to the side. The god lowered, lips fastening to your thigh as his hands scooped under your legs. You felt like you might catch fire.

He kissed up to the knee, lingering on each inch of skin like you might vanish. Your nerves were wild, and it wasn’t until the whine of his name had left your lips you even realised you'd done it. There was a ripple of amusement from the crowd, and one of Loki’s brows rose. “As you desire,” he murmured, before fastening softly to your clit.

A moan ripped from your throat.

The touch was almost nothing, but it was a lit match to sulphur. All the desire, the longing, the denial – it came rushing up your throat in that moan.

Loki’s tongue was silk. It smoothed over the folds of your sex, coating you in his wet enthusiasm. Every long, languid lap coupled with a groan of approval in his chest; the sharp angles of his jawline slotting perfectly between your spread legs.

“Loki,” you gasped, back arching while his fingers spread against your hips.

He suckled your clit, eyes opening with calculated precision to lock with your own. “Loki,” you chanted again, reaching to tangle a hand in his hair and failing. His mouth broke from your pussy. “Yes, little owl?” he hummed, chin glistening with your arousal, a playful dimple winking at the corner of his mouth. You huffed.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as the god chuckled against you thigh, wet, lazy kisses bitten into the flesh. His eyes met yours as he kissed over your mound, lowering completely before dragging his nose through your cunt and covering your clit again.

“Gods, yes….f-fuck,” you gasped.

There were more titters of mirth behind the curtain. But you couldn’t hear them – you could only hear Loki’s desperate sighs of need as he worshipped you, only feel the coil winding in your belly as orgasm began to crest; only sense the press of his fingertips pulling your hips deeper into his open mouth.

Suddenly someone shouted: another, and then another. They were hushed by a voice suspiciously like Frigga’s.

You turned your face unwillingly to the side, craning up, straining against the binds. The end of the train was just visible were it ended down aisle. You squinted. Where before it was a kind of white, now it was… “Green?” Loki’s palm pressed against your chest, sliding to cup your breast with a squeeze as you lowered.

“Ignore it,” he breathed: wet, hot. And then, he pushed your knees back. Your eyes widened as he towered above you, fingers spread on your calves like a chariot-rider. A single curl had come loose from the top-knot. Loki lapped from the base of your slit to the tip.

His movements were fluid, and wild – yet perfectly controlled. You’d heard tales of how he swept through battlefields like a whirlwind; slicing enemies down like they were paper; harnessing madness with the absolute precision. And this was like that. Except his battle was your pleasure – and gods, he was winning.

You’d begun to pant, and nonsensical words shaped your tongue as his movements became slower, massaging your cunt with slow, methodical licks. “Loki…” you pleaded, chest heaving, lips parted. And then, you came.

It was like nothing you’d ever known. Everything else had been a pebble of pleasure scattered on a beach – this was the cliff. It slammed into you, spine arching as he shifted to your thrashes; holding your hips fast to his lips as you spilled into him.

Somewhere, people were clapping – but all you could feel was him, guiding your sizzling pussy from its high with gentle, careful licks.

The binds at your wrists loosened and the moment they did, you sat up – audience be damned – and collided with his mouth.

The kiss was deep, wild: fingers digging into the tight hair at the base of his skull, his lips teased open by the demands of your tongue. The taste of you was thick: sweet, hot, dark with your deepest needs. It tasted like love - like trust.

Loki’s moan as you shifted onto his lap and dragged your pussy up his cock: scorching your insides with an unquenchable drive to have him buried inside you. “It’s done,” a creaking voice announced. You squinted through the curtain, panting. The old woman from before with red crusted on her face was standing, facing the crowd. “Loki Odinson has completed the Rite of Successional Pleasure.” A roar erupted through the darkness. Loki shook you by the shoulders, his face smeared with your cum a picture of fierce delight.

I did it, those eyes said.

For a reason you couldn’t explain, your stomach dropped.

The curtain was torn aside and you toppled from Loki’s lap, pulling bundles of the robe’s length to cover your modesty. And then, you saw it. The train spilling down the steps and onto the aisle was almost completely green: a deep emerald, like it had been dipped in ink which soaked its material like the tide. As you watched, the stain grew closer, starting an ascent of the steps. “He has proven himself able to give pleasure to those who serve him,” the woman’s voice cut through the din. “He has proven himself able to earn their love, their allegiance.” Loki stood from the bed, his arms spread wide to the applause: robe open, cock still hard. You frowned, shuffling forwards and tugged the back of his robe. He glanced over his shoulder, expression faltering.

You loved him. He knew that now. Everyone did. So why did it feel like… A mob descended and suddenly Loki was absorbed into a mass of congratulatory back slaps and cheers. Thor stood at the side, clapping all-too-slowly. His eyes darted towards you, before falling to the ground.

‘A triumph,’ the voices in the crowd around Loki said as his smile widened. ‘Never seen anything like it…magnificent.’ They pulled him down the steps. 'One for the histories.'

“Loki." Your voice broke, and you shuffled forwards and stumbled over the tangle of your train. You thought you saw the flash of Loki’s profile; you thought you saw him trying to lurch back through the throng.

But fingers curled around your arms and pulled. The mossy perfume of the Asgardian nymphs stung your eyes and you wrenched against them, hearing a rip from below as someone tore the delicate robe with their feet.

More fingers fastened to your wrist and you yanked away before meeting a pair of piercing blue eyes. Sad eyes. “Let him go,” Frigga whispered firmly. “He has much to celebrate.” Everything else was white noise. Only the memory of Fandral’s smarmy voice loud in your head. ‘He’s trying to make you fall in love with him,’ he’d said. ‘And afterwards, he’ll discard you like the commoner you imagine yourself to be.’ You faltered at the scrunch of Frigga’s brow, strength leaving your limbs.

Her pitying gaze said more than platitudes ever could. Glancing at the door, shouts of jubilation faded in echoing wisps as the green spill completed its ascent up the enchanted fabric.

Loki’s colour: proof that he held your heart in the palm of his hand, proof that you were willing to give yourself to him body, and soul.

And Loki was gone.

A/N. Just trust me, okay? Please? 🙏❤️ Please please. Tags in comments x Next Chapter : Marked (Finale) The Rite Masterlist is here

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