#because your smut prompts are GODLY

[darlingofvalyria]

As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.

[takaraphoenix]

Polympians Event!

Clarifying right off the gate: This does NOT mean exclusively Percy x poly Olympians, it means any god/Percy ship.

EDIT: I made a sideblog for the event: @polympians-event

EDIT 2: Here's the link to the AO3 collection!

What is the Polympians Event?

What I have in mind is an open event for any and all god/Percy ships. You ship Percy with only one god? Fill the prompts with only that ship! You sail many different god/Percy ships? Fill each prompt with a different ship, if you want! A full Percy/Olympians poly ship, OT3 or any poly constellation? Primordial gods, titans or non-Olympian gods? Any god(s)/Percy ship goes!

I've seen, in recent years, that god/Percy ships have gained quite some traction and I love that, so much. But while there are bigger ships that do have their own events, there are also the tiny rarepairs that don't get these chances, and even with the bigger ones, not everyone has the time/energy to participate in all their ships' events. So one blanket event, where the biggest of god/Percy ships and the rarest of god/Percy ships are equally welcome.

Are there rules to this?

Yes, but only the most basic. No ship bashing or harassment of other participants. The event is open to all god/Percy ships, which means people will participate with your NOTPs too. Don't like them? Don't read them. Instead, focus on the new content to your own ships! If you can't be a civil, normal person about this, then this event isn't for you.

Whether you want to write smut or not is entirely up to you, but you ought to tag appropriately!

What's the plan?

I chose the dates of the Lightning Thief quest for this event! Meaning it will run from May 28th (Percy waking up at CHB) to June 21st (Percy returning the Master Bolt and Helmet).

That length works out well for there to be 12 prompts, and you would have two days to post each prompt, plus an additional 13th prompt on the last day, to keep with the theme of the Olympians.

I'll get an AO3 collection started to which you can submit your entries on AO3 and, if there would be interest in it, I could start a sideblog specifically for this event to which entries (with proper ship tags so you can filter out your NOTPs) will be reblogged as a signal boost.

What are the prompts?

May 28th/29th: Roman

May 30th/31st: wedding/marriage

June 1st/2nd: The sea does not like to be restrained

June 3rd/4th: family focus

June 5th/6th: jealous/possessive [god]

June 7th/8th: role-swap AU (god!Percy/demigod![god])

June 9th/10th: Modern AU/no powers

June 11th/12th: metamorphosis/shapechange

June 13th/14th: godly gifts

June 15th/16th: Aphrodite ships it

June 17th/18th: Percy accepts godhood

June 19th/20th: yearning/pining

June 21st: Mythology

And because I'm bad at phrasing short prompts, here some explanations on what I had in mind with them, though you are of course free to interpret them in whatever manner you read them!

Roman: could mean the Roman aspect of the god, a Roman!Percy AU, or whatever else you want to make of it!

family focus: Are Percy and the god married with children of their own? Percy as step-parent to campers? The god meeting Sally, Paul and/or Tyson?

metamorphosis/shapechange: the gods have a track-record of turning people into animals or plants. Does this mean full animal, or catboy/other hybrid? Is this angst or fluff?

godly gifts: magic powers granted to Percy, or literal physical gifts to court, or something else?

Aphrodite ships it: Aphrodite as wing-woman, hyping and helping, can also very much include Aphrodite/Percy since she would be her own biggest shipper

Mythology: could be a mythological AU where Percy takes on a role from the past, or specific elements of a tale that recur, anything

Let me know if you're interested so I know I won't be hosting this just for myself!

[aimfor-theheart]

|| zhongli x afab!reader || E/18+ || smut/a touch of angst/comfort || wc: 7k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

You have never been patient enough for worship. Sometimes, he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared or hated. As a god of hunger, you are not beloved or worshiped by many, if any at all.

You’ve never known the sort of worship that he gives you. 

✧ meet fruit collab masterlist ✧

a/n: this is apart of @willowser 's house server summer collab, meet fruit!! i took plums as my prompt!! this really got away from me and i had a lot of fun with this dynamic and i WILL be writing more of godly wife!reader and zhongli. i have a whole backstory. a huge massive fic i shouldn't work on but will fjdkslfdk i also need to give a special thanks to @itoshisoup , @lorelune , and @petrichorium for helping me with brainstorming and riffing earlier! also finding some godly names for the reader! in particular, mao came up with the name Tanai Zhenjun, which i will leave a note at the end about!! i hope you enjoy this sweet taste!! thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts <333

tags: afab!reader referred to as wife, and has several godly titles that mortals have called her, etc., a complicated relationship between zhongli and reader, mentions of past fights/canon typical violence, erotic fruit eating and feeding, finger sucking, biting, oral sex (f!recieving), some over stimulation, praise, maybe a little sex pollen because the reader causes feelings of hunger/lust/etc. but its consensual and zhongli can withstand it if he wanted, scratching, unhealthy godly dynamics, let me know if i missed anything!

In the shadows of his home, he would know you anywhere. 

(He would know you even if you didn’t appear to him like this, fully formed, and in the visage of mortals. He’d know you in the thunder and the wolves’ howl. He’d know you in autumn’s bitter wind and the fox’s cry. Across all of time, he’d know you.) 

You slip, serpentine, slow and with the easy grace of a predator into the last falling light of the sun; bronzed, honeyed, and appearing before him like you did decades ago, perhaps a hundred of years ago. 

Has it been so long already? 

The sight of you–perhaps simply you, yourself, spark an ache in his chest. Fierce. Hunger pains. 

And after all these years, he welcomes it, savors the pit in his stomach like a sweet fruit. 

You, his god of hunger. 

You, his divine wife. 

He tips his head back, leaning further into the chair at his deep, mahogany desk, as if he could fix his eyes to better see you. As if he could take in more of you, somehow, greedily, hungirly. 

“Hello, my Morax.” You hum and the sun catches in your eye as you step into his life again, after so long without. 

“Hello, my love.” He responds, as if it could’ve just been yesterday.

As if you are his wife and you’ve come home to greet him. As if he is your husband and he’s been working all day without you. 

“It’s been a long time,” he says then, “you’ve been away a long time.” 

You meander closer, on the other side of his desk, peering at the scrolls and papers there. His hands are stained in ink. He catches the downturn of your lips, the small quirking of them in displeasure. Such mortal things, he can hear your voice, the little hiss you get when you dislike something. 

But then your eyes roam to the bowl of fruit, now untouched, that had been brought to him in hopes of eating;

Slices of plum, gold and orange and tender on the inside, their moon-dark skins still curved to them. One still has the pit attached to it, carefully nestled within its flesh. 

Plums always remind him of you. 

(In truth, anything with pits, with bones, with something that can be picked clean and left behind reminds him of you.) 

In an instant, your fingers, nimble–adorned with his jewels, the jewels of his earth, snag a slice.

He watches as you sink your teeth into it, juice bursting, caught on your lip. 

You chew only a moment, swallow slowly as you watch him. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed around Liyue Harbor,” you begin, “I thought I wasn’t allowed around your precious mortals.” 

His voice, low and soft, rumbles in affirmation. “Yes, that is true.” 

“And yet you speak to me like I’m welcome.” You hold the last bite of your slice to your lips, speaking against it, “like I should’ve visited sooner.” 

You bear down into the fruit again. 

“You’ve come to pick a fight?” He asks, “I can feel you’re trying to stir trouble.” 

And it's true; your ability as a god of hunger, to spark it in others. To sharpen and change it from starvation to bloodlust to desire to despair to greed–to any form of hunger. 

You caused whole towns to be decimated, driven mad with just the residuals of you, the feeling of you too near, like a wraith haunting their doorway. You turned tides in the Archon war for him and against him. You have always been one of the biggest threats to Liyue’s peace—to the world. Perhaps even beyond.

You perch on the corner of his desk prettily. 

“I can’t visit my husband?” You purr.

He quirks a brow, “you only ever call me husband when you’re trying to kill me.”

Your grin is a wild slip of excitement, a fissure of heat in the clash of your gazes.

“I am trying to kill you,” you agree, but perhaps you have always been trying to kill him. The battles between you two carved the very land of Liyue and at the end of them, no matter what had transpired, he was still your husband. And you, his wife. “But I don’t feel like fighting tonight.” 

You pluck another slice of plum from the bowl and bring it to your mouth. He watches your lips part to take the fruit in again. 

He thinks of replacing your hand with his own. He thinks of the sticky sweet taste he would find if he licked into your mouth, he thinks of being between your teeth again like the little piece of plum.  

Something inside of him yawns open. 

You’re toying with him. 

“You’re in rare form, then.” he hums and does not deny your draw. He has long since stopped trying not to be swept up in you–he realized it was inevitable at some point. You would always pull at parts of him none of the world had, and like a puppeteer did you play with those strings. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

You gaze down at him, almost lovingly, if he didn’t know better. 

Then you shift slightly, adjust yourself. 

And the first touch he has of you in decades, perhaps a century, is just a brushing of your calf against his forearm from where you sit atop his desk. Your bare skin beneath the pooling silks of your skirts. 

Heat rips through him like a tearing wound. 

His gaze flicks up to yours. 

“Did you know I was in Liyue?” You ask. 

“I always know the moment you enter my land again.” 

I always know the moment you come home. 

You shift your leg again, this time, a steadier press to his arm. 

He can’t help himself–he shifts his arm, opens his palm up against the curve of your bare calf to fully feel you, to hold you, in any minute way you might let him. Rough calluses scrape up  against the soft skin of your leg, the silk of your dress pooling around his arm, cool and like spun moonlight. 

You let him hold you like this, curl against the contour of you. His hand moves, dips down almost to your ankle, and back up to the bend of your knee. 

“You missed me,” you accuse, your voice a teasing lilt. 

Perhaps it’s you and the heady rush you cast on a room, on him, “yes,” he agrees honestly, “I always do.” 

“So sentimental in your old age. You’ve spent too long around these mortals.” You tell him, looking away so all you give him is the profile of your lovely face. The upward tilt of your chin, the haughty way you look down your nose. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks and he isn’t looking for you to placate him, but his hand is broad and inching up the back of your thigh. He pulls at you, urges you to the edge of the desk, where his other hand fits around the curve of your waist. 

“Don’t get greedy,” you chastise gently, but you still go with the pull of his hold. 

You slip into his lap like you were always meant to be there, fitting to him the way the moon fits into the sky, or the land against the sea. It’s an ancient feeling, bone deep, soul-cut. 

You let your arms fall around his neck loosely and to have you again in his embrace, after so long, does in fact, make him feel greedy. 

“I can feel it,” he says instead, perhaps just to spite you a little–to move another piece in this eternal chess game with you. “I can feel how you ache. I can feel the way you missed me.” 

“I always feel like that,” you snip, deft fingers slipping the band in his hair out so that it all falls free, loose and flowing over his shoulders in a wave of inky black. “I am always hungry like that.” 

“No,” he says and his voice is low like a wolf’s growling, a tiger’s purr, “I know your hunger. And I know this hunger of yours. You missed me.” 

“If you’re looking for a heartfelt confession, you won’t find it in me.” You tell him, proud little god that you’ve always been, “perhaps you’ll find it in your precious mortals.” 

Your voice takes on an edge, just shy of a sneer.

He laughs, a low rumble from his chest, amused, and pleased.

“Oh, that jealousy of yours. I missed that, too.” 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” you hiss like an asp and now, he worries you’ll bring your claws out. Your eyes glint in the last rays of light, like a bolt of lightning, like a spark of flame in a cold night.

He reaches up to touch your face, thumb sweeping over the arc of your jaw bone in a possessive hold. He forces you to look at him. “Come now, I thought you said you weren’t in the mood for a fight.”

“Then don’t test me.” You snap.

He fights back another fond smile in order to not test you further than he already has. 

He leans closer, his nose almost nudging against yours, “if you’re not here to fight. What are you here for?” 

“To eat through all your land until it is barren again.” You murmur and he knows it is just to pester him. Your fingers are winding in his long, silky hair and your eyes have gone half-lidded, so he knows you are not nearly as waspish as you’re pretending to be.

“If I could satiate your hunger, I would.” He murmurs darkly, lips brushing against yours as you carefully hold yourself back, a dog on a strained leash. At your best, you have always been a caged beast, pacing and desperate for escape. At your worst, you have been nothing short of desolation, teeth upon the earth in a vicious grasp, shaking hard, tearing it to shreds. Your bite never compared to your bark. You’d threaten destruction and deliver devastation; even you, surprised with your own vitriol, your own capability for demolition. 

He threatened to muzzle you once, long ago. 

You rear back slightly to look at him, “no, you wouldn’t. What would you have me be? Content?” 

He laughs softly again, low and warm, terribly fond of you despite it all, “yes,” he says very frankly, and then, “soothed, for once in your life.” 

“I won’t ever be soothed while you walk this earth.” You tell him and he cannot tell if you mean it with vengeance or with love. Are you being romantic? Or threatening him? Sometimes, he felt that your violence was supposed to be more like a kiss, and your kiss the type of violence that leaves him ruined for decades after. 

“And you would be after?” He asks, “I don’t think you’d know what to do if you finally managed to kill me in a meaningful capacity. You’d be bored.” 

You move to pull away from him with a snarl but he fastens his hold onto you tighter to get you to stay, he touches your face again, coaxing. “I only tease you.” 

“I said don’t test me.” You respond, but again, there is nothing nearly so vicious in you tonight. 

No, he knows the hunger in you tonight is a soft creature, a warbling, tender one. He’ll be kind to it, he will feed it and tend to it, even if he knows it will only grow larger still. Like caring for a tiger cub, only for it to grow into all those teeth and muscles, to bite the hand that fed it. 

“Forgive me,” he rumbles, and this time, he angles your head so that he can skim the strong line of his nose against your jaw, “let me make it up to you.” 

“You will not be able to,” you say indignantly and his own smile now feels sharper with the challenge, with your throat so near. He settles himself into a burning kiss against your pulse. Inside of him, something catches and sparks. Your hands curl around the muscles of his shoulders. 

“I know,” he coos, low and soft, almost sympathetic. “Then at least indulge the hunger you’ve caused in me.” 

This, in the least, you settle into. 

He pulls away barely to sit back, to look at you fully in all of your glory a moment. 

You look back at him, perhaps taking him in as well. 

The smoldering turns into a flame. 

The decades of years unspool inside of him and give way to a racing mind, images of what he wants, how he wants you. 

It is always like this, he thinks, eternally, desiring you, and never getting enough.

He thinks he must know how you feel. 

And then he gives into one of several of his desires that are rearing their large, horned heads inside of him. The beasts of his desire are all chained to you, he thinks. He reaches for the bowl of fruit. 

Perhaps it's your turn to be amused as he brings a slice of plum to your lips. You must know how he was looking at you earlier, you must know his desires if you are the one to stoke them. 

Still, you accept the fruit easily, minding your teeth as his finger slips against your lips. Sticky and soft and warm. You draw his finger into your mouth briefly, closing around it. He can feel the edges of your teeth as he pulls it out. 

The moment you swallow around the piece, he surges up to kiss you. 

To finally kiss you. 

He wishes he could call it something of a greeting or reunion, but it is too desperate and too vicious for that. Your teeth click together, coming up against one another, like an old key coming up against a lock. 

He tastes the plum in your mouth, sweet and a little tart, and can’t help the groan that rumbles out of him. 

Your hands disappear into his hair, tangle in the strands so that he can feel the press of your nails against his scalp. He feels the way you arch into the slide of his hands along your torso, bending to them, as if he is a sculptor. It pulls you closer, opens your hips wider in his lap in a way that makes heat rip through him.

When he pulls away, you’re already hazy-eyed, heady with the quick-burn of this sort of hunger, this lust. 

It pulls at him like the tide on the shore to drag him under. 

This time, when he places his lips to your throat, he sinks into a bite at the tender flesh there. 

Sometimes, he wishes he’d treat you more tenderly. As if that might be all you ever needed; more gentleness, and less teeth at your throat. 

But you arch and from your mouth spills your own moan finally, fingers tightening in his hair as if to hold him there. He feels your hips twitch forward, into him, an aborted rock of them, perhaps unknowingly or subconscious.

He wishes you inspired patience in him. 

(Usually, he claims to have a great deal. Unfortunately, he cannot claim the same with you in his arms again. Forgive me, he thinks again, but I haven’t seen you in nearly a century.) 

He stands suddenly with you still wrapped around his waist, hands fit beneath your thighs to lift you and place you on the broad expanse of his desk. Papers get pushed aside, some topple onto the floor in a fluttering mess. You laugh when the bowl of plums rattle precariously, but his mouth covers yours again, and he swallows the sound eagerly. 

He kisses you hard again, hitching your hips up to fit snugly to his, fitting his broad hands over the curves of your waist. You respond in kind, though, and twine your leg around his waist to pull him closer, arch your back to press your chest up to his.

When he pulls away this time, he takes you in, splayed out beneath him. 

“I did miss you,” he gets out roughly.

“Then show me,” you respond, stretching out beneath him, as if to tempt him. 

His hands move over the silk of your dress, bunching parts of it, tangling it. He decides in an instant that he doesn’t actually wish to deal with it, so he sets his hands on the bust and simply pulls. It tears like paper beneath him. And again, you laugh, amused with him now, with what you do to him.

“So impatient.” 

“It’s been a long time, my love.” 

And this time when he kisses you, perhaps you give into him more, feed what he wants. You mewl into his mouth, arch against him, drag your nails down his covered back. 

“Touch me,” you get out, demanding, a little fussy. 

“So impatient.” He mocks dryly. 

For his trouble, you pull harshly on the hair at the nape of his neck, baring his throat to you. 

His broad palm roams up the expanse of your side, your bare stomach, and to your chest. He cups your breast, thumb brushing against the peak in a way that makes you hum and squirm beneath him eagerly. 

You bury your face in his now exposed neck, nudge your nose there, which turns into your warm, open mouth. 

For a moment, surprisingly gentle, until he feels the quick flash of pain from your teeth. He rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger with a little more pressure than necessary, just to hear the little noise of pain you make. 

He drops his face to the crux of your chest, lips dragging along the skin there, above your beating heart. And for all your bite and bark, you still offer yourself up to him for the taking. You still draw your hands over his shoulders, pushing at the clothes still on him. He doesn’t indulge you, but draws lower, hair spilling over your chest as his mouth opens against your breast. 

He nips and marks, sets his teeth against the tender flesh and sucks a bruise into you. 

“I miss your sharp teeth,” you admit.

He huffs, breath fanning against your skin. He raises his eyes, molten gold, to meet your own, “there’s no pleasing you.” 

And then he captures the bud of your breast in his mouth and at least manages to pull another sound from you, meandering, growing in your own desire. You squirm beneath him again but something inside of him (old and draconic) blinks its eyes open and he seizes your waist to still you the way a predator subdues their prey, sharply, and with a slow rolling of muscle, a flex of their strength. A serpent squeezing down around a mouse. A tiger bearing down on the deer. 

You don’t go easily, though. 

And the moment you feel his resistance, you squirm and push harder, straining. Arching and impatient. 

He nips, he fights back the more base urge to growl, and readjusts his hold on you.

“Stop squirming,” he commands.

“Stop teasing,” you reply, stubborn, and disobedient. 

“Let me enjoy you.” Zhongli responds, watching his own hand sweep over your breast, cover it, and toy with you. 

“Enjoy me later.” You snip, fastening your legs tighter to his waist, hitching him closer. 

And he feels a head rush of your ability pour through him, the tightening of your desire and lust, of your hunger spilling from you. It’s purposeful. He feels the dull thud of his heart kick upwards, the warmth that simmers beneath his skin. He blinks hard with it, but does not succumb. 

“You’re so insolent.” He finally gets out, just shy of a growl, “now hold still for me.” 

His lips skim the top of your stomach as he lowers himself to his knees in front of you. 

You sit up onto your elbows, eyeing him, inching your hips to the edge of the desk eagerly. 

“I’ve always liked you best on your knees, Morax.” 

He sinks his teeth into your inner thigh in a more ruthless bite, forcing your legs open even as they threaten to close with the sudden jolt of pain. Hard enough that you hiss through your teeth, twitching towards or away from him, he can’t tell. 

(Images of days long past flash hotly in his mind, in another form, with those sharper teeth you’d said you missed.) 

He feels your hunger burst open like a ripe fruit, like the plum between your teeth. 

He soothes the bite with a slow, lingering pass of his tongue. 

His eyes flick upwards towards you. 

You look a little shaken finally, eyes glassy, teeth stuck in your bottom lip. 

He drags you closer, pulls you flush so that your hips are almost off the edge. You fall back with the movement and he doesn’t give you a moment. He isn’t feeling generous or very kind anymore. 

His mouth opens against you in a crush of heat, eager, perhaps impatient himself. 

A groan, low, from the back of his throat, works out of him at the first taste of you. 

Again, you try to squirm, and something ancient and vicious in him squeezes hard enough on your waist that if you were a mortal, he might sincerely hurt you. He doesn’t care if you’re trying to squirm closer or away, he realizes, he doesn’t care if it hurts a little, as long as he can have you like this. Open. His. 

Ah, he realizes, perhaps he isn’t ignoring your sway as well as he thought he was. 

He delves between soft folds, already slick, but he’ll make it worse still. 

(Perhaps, at one point, he had ideas of being a gentleman of some kind with you. Perhaps, at some point, he thought he would carefully work you open with mouth and soft tongue. He’d be loving and gentle with you. But you’ve always done something horrible to him, something he can’t tame, something he wishes he feared more.) 

You whine a little and the sound pools straight into his own desire for you. 

He fits himself closer, keeps your legs wider apart with his shoulders. 

“Morax,” you gasp and it’s with more heat and desperation than he is anticipating.

His eyes, heavy and gold, flick up towards your face, looking up at you beneath the dark fan of his lashes. 

Oh, you’re closer than he thought, he realizes. 

He doesn’t slow or stop or lessen himself, groans a little, and fits himself tighter to you. He digs his fingers into your skin and keeps you close. 

To his surprise, that is all it takes. 

Your gasp is strangled, perhaps a little surprised, as you arch off the desk in a bow-curve, poised to snap.

You fall to pieces as a cry loosens from your throat. 

He feels you pulse against his tongue and without thinking, he growls a little, a pleased rumble, and doesn’t stop.

He tastes you, savors it, and doesn’t let you hide or pull away from him.

Your hips twist and he follows the movement, wrestling you still, so that he can still enjoy you. 

You’re out of breath, hiccuping a little, trying to squirm away from him but there’s nowhere to go.

He won’t let you go.

He pulls away to rest his head on your inner thigh a moment, “so quick.” He teases, “you must’ve been pent up for it to be that easy.” 

He thinks, I wasn’t even doing that for you yet—I was still enjoying myself. I was being greedy. Hungry in my own way, in the way that you inspire.

“I should leave you now.” You huff, picking yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him, but your eyes are simmering.

He squeezes at your thighs, “you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

And before he can hear your protests, he dips forward again and flattens his tongue against your folds. Slow, broad licks that make you twist and twitch. 

“Morax—“ 

“I’m not finished with you yet, my love.” He says lowly, somewhere against where you’re most tender and sensitive. 

He takes his time teasing now. 

Enjoy me later, you’d said, and he doesn’t think this is what you meant. 

You have never been patient enough for teasing–for worship. Sometimes he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared. You were always Deus Inanis, Tanai Zhenjun, and later, Rapax Regina to the people. You have many names from them, none particularly kind or cherished. You were always the ghoulish god, the bad omen, the drooling maw of a starved predator. Your myth is not a beloved one by most. 

And some dare not even speak your name at all, for fear of inviting you. 

You are not a welcome god in the home and hearth, you are not for protection or courage. You are feared and warded off. You are, at best, used as a condemnation. 

(To him you were always softened with affection, even at your worst; little god, my curse, my love, keeper of my heart.) 

You’ve never known the sort of worship he gives you. 

You struggle with it, keen sharp and broken when he gives it to you. 

Sometimes you have all-out tried to refuse him or hasten him, poured your lust and impatience into him to get your way, to sway him to your own will. He can feel it again now but it never manifests in him the way you’d like it to. You assume his desire is one of his own pleasure. But it has always been this; 

You, belly-up and vulnerable, only for him, delicate in a way the rest of the world will never know. Pleasure-drunk and hazy. Lost to what he can give you–he wants to gorge you. He wishes he could fill the empty place inside of you. 

He’s spent an eternity trying. He’ll spend an eternity more. 

He focuses his intentions, strengthens the pass of his tongue with what he wants. He wants your pleasure. He wants it again and again. 

You curse a little, an ancient word, from when the land was Archon-less and free. 

He lifts his mouth from you briefly, “you are already cursing like that? This will be a long night for you then.” 

He opens his mouth again to taste you, to suck gently, your legs twitching over his shoulders as your breath hitches. 

This time you curse him, hissing through clenched teeth.  

He laughs against you in amusement, low and dark, and smooths a broad hand over the soft plain of your tensing stomach. As if he might soothe you, or perhaps because he wants to feel all of you, have you in his palms, in his arms. Against his mouth.

The next time you fall apart, he doesn’t let up once. His eyes have gone half-lidded and burning, a flint-strike of amber. You try to fight him again, wrestle out of his hold, but he strengthens himself. He steels himself, even, to your pulling of his hair, to your fussing and snapping–all of that melts to whining, to near-crying, as he continues. 

You’re too stubborn to cry for him now–there have been only a handful of times he’s broken you down that much. 

Perhaps if he were feeling crueler, he would try. 

(These instances have always come in the wake of something worse; your largest fights, or worst transgressions where he felt the need to punish. To strip you bare. These are saved, not for his desires, but for your catharsis after all your grief.) 

But your voice has gone higher with desperation, more broken, and he is pleased with that. 

Pleased enough that when you burst on his tongue again, your nails digging into the back of his hand as he holds you, he finally rises. 

Instantly, you twine yourself around him, legs around his waist, arms pulling at the front of his clothes to drag him down into your arms. You are always more desperate for affection like this, softened by pleasure, hungry for more. 

He goes down easily for you.

 Kisses you hard and open, so that you’ll taste yourself from his mouth, the way he tasted the plum from yours. 

You groan weakly and manage to gasp when he pulls away, “please–more. I need more. Need–” 

Always need, you say, when you get like this. Never want. 

“Need you.” 

He hums, the noise lumbering from his chest in a pleased, dark sound. 

“You have me,” he soothes, even as he feels dizzy with your own desire, a headrush of desperation–of need that rushes from you to him. 

Feed me, need me, fill me, possess me, take, take, take me. Fill. Aching–so empty, I’m so empty. Please, please, it hurts– please, I need more, need, need, need–

He lets out a harsh breath. It aches, almost sharply, almost on the wrong side of pain and pleasure. 

He does not torment you any longer. He does not torment himself, either. 

With fingers far more nimble than he feels, he loosens his slacks, he pushes his clothes out of the way just enough, enough to take himself in hand and hiss through his teeth as the head of his cock touches your slick folds. 

Molten. Fluttering still with sensitivity, with desperation. 

Your hips roll, eager, trying to urge him closer, inside–

“Morax–” you cry and the sound twists something in his chest, blooms like a bruise being pressed on. 

 He presses inside you and fills you in one, deep thrust. 

You gasp sharply, you pull at him, force him to collapse over you nearly, cover you completely. You cling to him, you wrap yourself around him like a serpent, now constricting him–

(He’s never been able to tell who is the serpent and who is the mouse, anyways. Who is the tiger or the deer? Was he capturing you? Or were you always capturing him?)

You hold him so tightly, calves flexing around his back, that he can hardly pull out from you to thrust.

He groans, almost in frustration, or maybe some form of defeat. 

“Darling,” he gets out roughly, “my love. My little god.”

The old, affectionate nickname burns through you and he can feel the desire like a knife’s blade in his own stomach. You moan– a soft, warbling sound. 

He manages to move his hips, barely leaving the hot clutch of you, to push back in deeper, harder. 

“Please–” you gasp, “more–kiss me. Touch me.”

“So demanding,” he scolds, but he kisses you hard, with too much teeth and roughness, and fits his palms over the sides of your body. He takes handfuls of curves, of your waist and your breasts, rough hands bending over the lines of you the way the light of the moon bends over the hills and valleys of his land. 

His next thrust is harder, a little rougher. You turn your face into his throat after you break the kiss and your teeth sink down into him hard. 

You always draw blood. You always have to leave your mark on him, on all that you’ve touched. 

But then you draw your tongue over the wound, licking softly, perhaps in apology. Perhaps to satiate another need that winds around inside you. 

Your hand tangles in his hair again and he bites back another raw groan as he thrusts, in and out, on a slow, rough drag. You’re clinging to him, tight and so wet that it’s making his thoughts bleary and clouded. Your lust shadows any rationality; your hunger possesses him. 

“Harder,” you gasp, you beg, you plead. 

And he thinks who am I to deny you? Who am I to deny the god of my hunger? 

His hand slips over your arm, your free one clawing at his clothed back still. He knows you will mourn not getting your nails into his skin after, but he will let you satiate the need all you like later. He’ll savor the way you try to tear him apart, like he always does. 

(And sometimes, he swears, you’re just trying to tear down his skin to be closer. Deeper in him. Scratching at his ribs and his sides like you want in, in, in. A bad dog at his door. A wraith that claws at his soul.)      

As he pulls at your forearm, flattening it out against the desk beneath you to pin you beneath him, he knocks into the bowl of fruit. 

The last of the plum slices tip out onto the desk and the remaining juice at the bottom of the bowl pools in a sticky mess over the wood, some over your forearm and wrist, over his own, too. 

He thinks you move without thinking, bringing his wrist up to your lips where you lick up a stripe up into his palm, against his thumb. 

You take his thumb into your mouth with ease and he cups your cheek in a possessive hold as he lets you suckle, tongue soft and warm and gentle against the pad of it. You groan, lashes fluttering, and this seems to please some part of you. 

His thumb in your mouth, cock lodged deep inside you. 

He pushes himself deeper on his next thrust, enough that you whine a little, eyes going glassy, cheeks hollowing around his thumb. 

He can feel the spit pooling in your mouth, wet and slick, can feel the way your walls squeeze and flutter around him desperately. 

He presses on your tongue, thrust growing a little faster, but still hard, deep–a little ruthless. 

But it’s what you need–so it’s what he gives you. 

You hold his wrist, little nails digging into his skin, desperate to keep his thumb between your lips. He can feel the press of your teeth in the meat of his hand. 

He readjusts, tries to draw his thumb out barely, only for you to latch down tighter on his wrist, and slide it back into your mouth with a noise of protest. Saliva spills a little, slick and messy against your bottom lip, against his hand. 

He coos, but it’s too dark to sound reassuring, and sounds more like a rough purr, just shy of a pleased growl. 

“I won’t go anywhere,” he soothes lowly, but it sounds like less of a comfort from a husband, and more of a promise from the beast you shouldn’t have let in in the first place. It’s loving in the same way a possession is. “My little god, I have you now.” 

Your peak this time makes something inside of him roar open. He feels your inner muscles bear down on him, fluttering desperately. 

Your eyes tip behind your eyelids, hiccuped breath against his hand as it twists into a guttural sound that he feels against his palm. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, turning your face so that he can press open mouthed kisses against your throat, suck a bruise there, turn the flesh tender, “I’ve got you. Good girl–that’s it.” 

Perhaps he draws blood when he bites you this time, too. Tastes it sharp on his tongue, the blood of a god. He lifts his head from your neck and finally draws his thumb from your mouth, spit slick as he traces your bottom lip. He pulls himself up from you to gaze down at you, slack jawed and messy, near feverish with your lust. 

His hips quicken, harder, and you reach out to splay your hand out against his tensing stomach, to push at him a little. 

But he doesn’t stop, feels you nip at his thumb, still making a mess of your lips and chin. 

Your legs are still hitched tight around him, drawing him in, keeping him close. 

He squeezes your hip with his free hand, he loses his rhythm when you draw his thumb back into your mouth, suckling softly on it. 

He groans, feels his own pleasure in a rush down his spine, a burst of heat that unfurls like a supernova. Collapses inward. Expands outwards. He buries himself inside of you, as deep as he can manage, deep enough that you make a little noise of pain maybe, but you hold him tight to you. Again, you constrict around him, dragging him back down by his clothes to slot your mouth against his as he fills you. 

It’s your turn to hum, pleased, almost purring, tightening your hold around him, locking him against you.

The kiss this time is slower, but dirtier, all tongue, open and messy. He groans into it, holding your jaw, feeling himself twitch inside of you, his own eyes fluttering with pleasure, lashes against your cheek. 

When you both pull away, you’re out of breath. Chests rising and falling against each other. 

You seem subdued now, heavy-lidded, but your lips drag to his cheek, down to the curve of his jaw. 

You roll your hips a little.

“More–” You murmur, “I want more.” 

His laugh tapers into a moan. He flexes his hips a little, heat simmering beneath his own skin. 

Your hands pull at his clothes finally, tugging at them, pulling at buttons until they snap and burst beneath your fingers, until you reveal bare skin. Instantly, your hands are on him, nails scratching into his chest gently, over his shoulders. 

(He’s going to take you to bed after this and he’ll rid you of the scraps of your clothes and the rest of his. He'll get rid of anything between you.) 

The ache in him builds again and suddenly he’s rocking into you again, deep and slow, watching the way he disappears inside of you. The mess he’s already made of you, the way he wants to make it all worse. He feels feverish himself now, a little lost to the sight– his desire suddenly feels inhuman. Monstrous. Too big for his own skin. 

You always seem to remind him of his divinity. 

“Hold me,” you demand now and as if commanded, he goes to you. 

He gets his arms around you and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His desire unwinds. Time unspools from him. He loses himself in the pull of you, in the undertow of desire and hunger. He tries to satiate the ache you have carved in him. The ache you always have nestled inside of you. 

You beg him of more–more pain and more pleasure and more of him–until he feels near mindless with it. Gone with it. 

Shuddering with sensitivity and feeling you tremble with it, too. 

He doesn’t regain himself until another peak has been reached and fallen from, until he realizes the hour; the moon hanging in the window of his study like a copper penny. He forces himself to slow. To lodge himself deep and go still inside of you and let his head fall to your chest.

You cradle his skull, fingers slipping into his hair, catching your breath as the haze fades for a moment. 

He picks his head up barely, shifts only so he can catch your gaze. 

“Stay for a while.” He demands now. 

 You let go of a sigh, deep, perhaps tired. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed.” You hum softly. 

“Will you behave?” He asks and you lean down to kiss him–sweeter now. Perhaps apologizing. He accepts your affection with warmth, though. 

“You know how I get restless.” You respond, fingers tracing along the nape of his neck, one of them trailing down the bend of his jaw. 

You are softest now, like this. It’s a rare sight; one he savors, one he will stay hungry for his whole life, he thinks. 

“Yes,” he agrees, perhaps fondly, perhaps sadly. “If you could keep mortals out of it, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Even if I tried to kill you again?” You ask, finger tracing the bow of his upper lip. 

He smiles faintly and you touch the corner of his mouth, “yes,” he agrees, “even then.” 

“Or tried to steal your Gnosis again?” 

He snorts softly, picking himself up further to hover over you, to gaze down at you with more love than you have ever known what to do with. “You can certainly try again.” 

“Perhaps I should try harder this time.” The threat is fangless this time and you are at least soothed somewhat for now. He knows it won’t last long. 

But for now, he takes advantage of it. He cups your cheek, brushes his thumb along your jaw affectionately, and for once, you nuzzle into the touch. You rub your cheek into his palm like a cat. 

A flash of your teeth. You bite down into his hand. 

He laughs softly, but pulls his hand from you, dislodges your teeth from his flesh. 

Slowly, he tries to detangle himself from you. You are reluctant, but he appeases you with promises of more, of his bedroom. Of a bath and whatever you want. 

“More plums,” you say, letting him carry you to his bedroom like a young bride, cradled in his arms. “I’ve always loved plums.” 

He smiles, “I know. They remind me of you.” 

The admittance is a tender one, one that he has held for centuries that has finally loosened from his mouth like a bird taking to flight. 

In the morning, when you have slipped from him and his bed and his life once more, all that’s left are the marks you left on him, the deep scratches and latches of your teeth on tan skin–

And the pits of plums you devoured before you left. Not one is spared and he thinks his heart never has been, either. 

Not from you, his wife, his curse, his love–not from his god of hunger. 

***

a/n part ii: thank you for reading!! here are those notes on the reader's godly names:

There are three titles the reader is referred to. Two of them are latin, similar to Rex Lapis, and the third is from @itoshisoup, and is Tanai Zhenjun, which mao explained as such: "贪爱 (tanai) is a Buddhist term that is often translated as "craving", and refers to desire for both physical and mental things. From my understanding, tanai is sometimes considered a cause of suffering (苦 or ku), but is sometimes considered closely related to suffering in other ways. Given the motif of hunger, I would name the god Tanai, and additionally give them the honorific "Zhenjun" (a title associated with Taoist gods - much like "Dijun", which is the honorific in Zhongli's Chinese title, Yanwang Dijun; however, it is a lesser title than Dijun). Tanai Zhenjun is therefore what I'd call them."

The other two are Deus Inanis and Rapax Regina, which mean "empty god" and "rapacious/ravenous queen" in Latin.

i plan to write more of this reader and use these godly names again soon &lt;3

[joyful-enchantress]

A Calm in the Storm | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: You escape to the rooftop in search of solitude, trying to forget about a certain trickster god... I wrote this for @sarahscribbles and her Big Follower Celebration! The prompts she gave were Rain, Rooftop, and Pining. I hope I did them justice! Congratulations, Saz, my love!

Genre: Light angst with a happy ending, idiots in love, thirst, smutty thoughts (no actual smut), fluff, mild language

Word Count: 1.9k

The first raindrop hit the skin of your upturned face with a quiet pat, and you softly gasped, your eyelids fluttering in response. Even though you had expected the rain — welcomed it, even — its coolness against your heated skin momentarily stole your breath away.

Gradually, the droplets increased the tempo of their melody and you were soon enveloped in the crescendo of their percussive rhythm, with the low rumble of thunder in the distance providing its own accompaniment. The symphony of a summer storm.

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath through your nose, enjoying the petrichor that radiated from the freshly dampened soil and wrapped your consciousness in a blanket of its pleasant aroma.

From behind your eyelids, you could sense a flash of light; you snapped them open and could see electricity dance across the night sky, some distance away. Nature brought her own light show to complement the symphony. At once dangerous, beautiful, and fleeting, the lightning felt like a cruel metaphor in that moment.

A metaphor for the heated night of passion you had shared with the God of Mischief, the dark prince. Loki.

Last night may have been spent in his bed, but sleep was perhaps the last thing on your mind. You recalled the details like flashes of lightning in your memory…

Writhing in the cool, damp sheets as he showed you the power of his silver tongue. Moaning his name and gasping for breath as he stretched and filled you with his godly cock. Singing for him as he relentlessly brought you to the edge and toppled you over into ecstasy. Over. And over. And over again.

He invaded each of your senses with his intoxicating presence, and you feared that he would never leave.

The feel of his alabaster skin, sliding against your own during the throes of your shared passion.

The sight of his perfect face, framed by unkempt raven curls; jaw clenched and pupils blown wide with lust, betraying the extent of his own desire.

The sound of his grunts and moans as his resolve unraveled around you, his husky voice whispering filthy promises in your ear.

The scent of him — smoked sandalwood and lemongrass mixed with the musk of his own hot, wet arousal — wafted through your nostrils and embedded itself in your brain.

Even the taste of him — of his lips, his throat, his fingers, his cock — lingered on your tongue.

Everything, everywhere was Loki. You could not escape him.

You had stepped outside and climbed to the rooftop to allow the storm to completely engulf your senses. To bathe you in its own sounds, smells, sensations and sights, washing away the traces that Loki had left in his wake. To force you to be present, so you could get your mind off of him, even for just a few moments.

Because you were tired of crying.

But even the storm mocked you with its reminder. Dangerous. Beautiful. Fleeting.

Dangerous because you were bound to get hurt. Badly. Loki was your friend. Dare you say it — your best friend. Crossing that line with him was like striking a match in a forest plagued by drought; the whole thing was bound to go up in flames.

Beautiful because Loki has been the singular object of your desire for some time now. The way your stomach erupted with flutters of nervous excitement whenever he entered a room, and the way your heart ached for him — longed for him — when he was not near, told you that it was more than just desire that you felt for him. It was love.

Fleeting because how could it not be? Loki could have anyone he wanted. He could have someone different in his bed every night; there certainly was a long enough waiting list. And now that he'd had you, why would he want you again? He was royalty. A prince. A god. And you were, well... you.

“Darling…?” His familiar voice, smooth as silk, caressed your ears and pulled you from your thoughts. Your thoughts that were — unsurprisingly — about him.

Somehow, he was both the last person you wanted to see right now and the person you most longed to see.

“I came to find you when I realized it was storming. I wanted to see if you would join me in the atrium to enjoy the show…” he began, his voice laced with concern and caution.

Of course he’d come to find you during a storm. He knows you love to watch them, and as long as neither of you had other obligations, you’d always find yourselves sitting in the atrium together where you could enjoy nature’s spectacle while remaining dry. And why should anything be different now that you’d spent a night in his bed, wrapped around his cock? As you had suspected, last night changed nothing for Loki.

But little did he know, that for you it changed everything.

Even though it shattered your heart, it was oddly comforting that he’d fallen into his usual patterns, confirming your theory. Dangerous. Beautiful. Fleeting.

Loki’s rich baritone continued. “…and when I couldn’t find you in your quarters, or the common area, or the training room, I began to worry. But then I remembered you told me once that you like to come up here sometimes to think. Are you alright?”

Another misstep. You’d completely forgotten that you told him about this spot. It was on the side of the rooftop opposite the lavish bar and luxurious lounge area where Tony hosted his massive parties. There was a secluded alcove in the corner, behind a decorative planter, where you could hide away from everything. Where you could think. Where you could just be.

Somewhere no one would think to look.

No one except for Loki.

You could not escape him.

As you turned to face him, nothing could have prepared you for the sight that met your swollen, bloodshot eyes. You had already determined that dressed-down Loki might be your favorite Loki, but this... this was dressed-down and soaking wet Loki.

His luscious ebony locks clung to the sides of his face and the back of his neck, winding in inky, serpentine tendrils. His wet, porcelain skin seemed to glimmer in what little light remained of the stormy summer evening, his sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw slicing through the rivulets of rain that ran down his face, spoiling any hope they had of making it to his neck unscathed.

The phthalo green V-neck tee he was wearing adhered to his torso like a second skin, leaving the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen exposed to your roaming eyes. And the gray sweatpants... they already left little to the imagination when fully dry and hanging sluttishly loose around his hips. But now, as they grew heavy with the rain that had begun to soak into them, they hung even more loosely, sat lower on his hips, and the fabric stuck to him in ways that could only be described as indecent.

He may be a god, but the thoughts he provoked within you were far from holy.

"I'm fine, Loki," you lied. "I just... decided to take my storm watching to the next level. I wanted a more immersive view."

His bluish-green eyes bored into yours, probing for the truth. You knew it was useless trying to lie to him. God of Lies and all that...

The response he gave you was eerily calm, considering the chaos of the storm that surrounded you. "Talk to me, Y/N. Tell me what is troubling you."

"Why do you care, Loki?" You had to shout to be heard above the roaring wind and pounding rain. "You've had me already. You can add me to your list of conquests. You don't have to play this part anymore."

"...What part am I supposed to have been playing?" There was an urgency to his voice, but still, he exuded calmness. It was irritating.

"The part of my friend!" You shouted again, but not purely out of necessity this time. The ache in your heart was worsening, and you could feel it. This was the part where the forest went up in flames.

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before responding to your outburst. A flash of lightning illuminated his face and for a split second you could properly see his eyes. The panic within them betrayed his calm exterior.

"Is that truly what you think of me? That I've been playing a part all this time? Pretending to be your friend, spending countless hours in your company, all to lure you into my bed, have my way with you for one night, and dispose of you like a common whore?"

Your bottom lip trembled as more tears threatened to fall. Hearing him say aloud the words that you had been thinking to yourself since last night stung almost more than you could bear. You lowered your head and waited for him to drive the knife even further into your heart.

Loki strode forward, closing the distance between you. When he was but mere inches away, he placed a long, elegant finger under your chin and tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze with your own. A crack of thunder sounded in the distance as if giving him encouragement to say whatever he was going to say next.

"While your beauty is unmatched, and without a doubt would warrant such a large investment in order to experience it fully for one night, I must admit, love, that I am much more selfish than that." The panic was gone from his eyes now, and a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I want to experience your beauty for all my nights."

"Loki..." you gasped, "...what are you saying?"

"I am saying, darling, that I am in love with you." He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing his words; part of you was convinced that you were dreaming. You had to be, right?

Loki inhaled deeply and grasped your head between his two large palms before he continued, "Perhaps you're right, darling; perhaps I have been playing the part of your friend all along. But only because I longed for more than your friendship." He paused for a moment, carefully measuring his next words. "That's why I didn't tell you the true nature of my feelings last night. I — I was afraid that you didn't want the same thing I did, and I was afraid to ruin what I did have with you. I couldn't risk losing you. But I can see now how foolish I was. I should have told you everything last night."

You wrapped your delicate hands over his — a small gesture of reassurance. Now it was your turn to be the calm one.

"I love you too, Loki." You uttered the words as easily as breathing itself.

Loki's face lit up, but not from the lightning this time. He chose not to say a word and instead closed the rest of the distance between you and slanted his lips over yours in a warm and passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth and danced against your own with gentle strokes. This kiss felt different from all the ones you shared last night. This one felt more assured, more... calm.

A calm in the storm.

------------------------------------------

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested. No pressure though if not! @lokisgoodgirl @youlightmeupfinn @muddyorbsblr @give-me-a-moose @cheekyscamp @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @peaches1958 @vbecker10 @simplyholl @maple-seed @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @cake-writes @ladyofthestayingpower @lady-rose-moon @lovelysizzlingbluebird @thomase1 @tripleyeeet @tallseaweed @peachyjinx @lokiprompts @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @holdmytesseract

[half-blood-community]

Riordan Roleplay Prompts Intro!

Hi demigods and half-blood homies! This is Riordan Roleplay, where every Tuesday a new role-play prompt will be released. Your monster fighting OC (or Canon Character) will be able to follow along the story!

What godly counterpart would you prefer to roleplay first, Greek or Roman.

Just because this is your PJO Universe doesn't mean there aren't any rules, even Chiron has his limits. You will be expected to abide said rules at all times.

Be Kind. This is meant to be a friendly and non competitive event. Please make sure to be kind and good-nature with other role-players. Aggressive behavior towards one role-player to another will not be tolerated.

No hurtful comments, no matter your beliefs. Do not discriminate against anyone whatsoever because of their lifestyle and how they believe, this is not tolerated in our Community. This goes with other players and characters.

No inappropriate stories. Nothing with nudity, smut, pedophilia, or anything similar will be tolerated and will be blocked.

Iris message the council for backup. If any of the rules are broken, you are uncomfortable with the situation, need assistants, or feel the steam rise, fear not! Tag us @half-blood-community and we will take care of it.

Oh, Fleecy, do us a solid. Please follow our PJO community, or reblog this post. Trust us, you won't want to miss out on any of the topics. Maybe the first one won't spark your interest, but that doesn't mean future ones won't! We also appreciate any likes you might be willing to give; numbers boost our views.

DON'T FORGET TO HAVE FUN!

Here's this week's RP link: https://www.tumblr.com/half-blood-community/750459022557216768/riordan-roleplay-may-14th-2024?source=share

MAIN POST: https://www.tumblr.com/half-blood-community/750311211309088768/hi-half-blood-homies-this-is-your-online-demigod?source=share

[cosmicbash]

peminem? Say less.

You know how Em nd Pete have talked on the phone before? What if that became like a regular thing? Em starts calling after every show, regardless of whether he's mentioned or not and he tells Pete how funny and cool he is and at first Pete just listens and awkwardly takes the compliments, but after a while he starts participating and they start Really talking..

They talk about the show, of course, but also about how fucked up fame is, and about music and just about shit. After a while they both have a weird "aha..." Moment where they realize they're friends (I'm friends with Eminem?!) (I'm friends with someone who is also friends with mgk smdh) but also like as this is going on both of them start to develop crushes on each other. But they haven't really met in person, just talked on the phone and maybe some facetimes, so neither of them says anything until one of them absolutely cannot keep it in and one thing leads to another and that thing leads to phone sex bc cozy said horny asks.

From phone sex comes the inevitable need to meet up in person and when they do it's super weird bc what do you say to someone who's made you come in your pants and bare your soul all on the phone besides "... hey😳" ? But it's eventually cool bc they genuinely get along well, like each other and have chemistry and blue balls. Then they hook up and live happily ever after bc bruh this is not a prompt anymore it's just me rambling 😬

I need, or someone else needs to write a fucking 10 chapter slowburn of ALL of that. Damn 😭😭

It's so cute, and ahhh the idea of those two shy dorks starting off with phone sex before even meeting up to hang?? Please. Take all of my money. I can totally see Pete making some off hand remark one night while they talk about his jerking off habits, fully intending to follow it up with some self depreciating joke. But then Em responds too quick and chuckles while admitting he's in a pretty similar boat and- the idea, no- the mental image of Em jerking off that appears in Pete's braid just short circuits him a little. And it somehow becomes this, thing, he can't stop thinking about, even after they get the call back on track and inevitably end it.

Until his next jerk off session he finds himself biting down of his knuckles, more focused on some dozen odd wonderings on how Em likes to get himself off instead of the porn he has playing on his laptop. Like, would this be the kind Em would watch? Does the guy even watch porn? Would he just jerk it? Maybe use a flesh light? Or...a toy?

And the next thing Pete knows, he's got his head flung back against the pillows and his hips fucking up into his fist over some daydream Em in his head that's twitching and gasping while he grinds back and forth on a dildo.

Of course Em finds out about it too. Sorta. Not on accident either, Pete just can't keep it to himself the next time they talk, from the moment he saw Em's name on the caller screen his cheeks have been burning. Guilt and shame eating away at him until he can't hold it in any longer, and Em's mild rant about studio cleanliness is getting interrupted by a very loud, and very sudden.

"Fuuuuuckk--i- I totally jerked off to you the other night!"

And Pete's finding himself with a dead sounding line for the first time in months. Em silent as a mouse until he fumbles out several fast "I'm so fucking sorry"s.

Pete's fully expecting the guy to hang up on him too. Just, cut the call short and never talk to him again, but instead he gets a very quiet, but also very amused sounding "Really? Like, just my pictures?"

It's a better response than Pete could ever ask for, and totally what leads to them having actual phone sex because Em definitely presses and prods for more detail. Humming and encouraging Pete the whole way through his stuttered recap. Commenting here and there when Pete starts to mumble out the little questions he'd pondered over during.

Yes he watches porn, no not always, of course he has a pocket pussy, he considers them one of modern marvels of all time, and much to Pete's poor underwears bad luck, while he doesn't have some weird suction cupped dildo on his shower wall, he does own more than a couple different plugs and other toys to stimulate his prostate with.

The conversation shifting over to him pressing Pete to share all of his dirty little habits only makes sense to end in a demonstration.

And by that, I mean Pete facetiming his fist slicking up and down over his dick to Em until they both get off over the phone.

It's the perfect outcome.

Fuck I really want some peminem 😩

[glitteryflufflepuff2003]

Saturday Night Fuck-up

Pairing: Loki x reader 

Word count: 2422 words 

Smut Prompt 85: "I'm going to fuck you so hard you're going to forget that guy's name"

Summary: After a shocking break-up, Y/N finds reassurance in the arms of a very charming stranger. 

Key: Y/N means Your Name 

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, unprotected sex, degredation, name calling, strong language, teasing 

A/N: This was a request from ages ago from the lovely @lokisprettygirl​ and I’ve only just got round to finishing it, It’s been driving me crazy for months but it’s finally finished! I hope you enjoy it :) 

**This is not my gif, credit goes to the original owner**

“Y/N! Wait! I can explain!” He yelled, trying to get you to stop and listen to his petty lies, but you’d had enough. It was one thing to think that your boyfriend was cheating but it was another to catch him in the act. 

“We’re through, I don’t have time for your shit anymore, Will! So why don’t you go see if that whore wants you back because I sure as hell don’t wanna see your face again!” You screamed at him, your voice only just loud enough to combat the booming music of the bustling club. You thought tonight was going to be nothing but a ‘good old girls night’, yet you were so painfully wrong.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks as you pushed your way through the crowd, your head bowed in hopes that no one would take notice of you. With a gasp, you came crashing into a wall of muscle.

“‘m sorry, ‘scuse me.” You mumbled, cowering away for the man who held you in his arms, not wanting to let go for fear of dropping you.

“Hello miss, are you okay?” His voice was soft and soothing as he spoke with his gentle lips beside your ear. He seemed genuinely worried about you; his angular face and gentle features were marred with intense concern.

“‘m okay, need a second alone.” You responded, voice shaking with emotion. He nodded his head slowly before moving you in the direction of the toilets. The corridor for the bathrooms split off to the left of the dance floor and continued back towards the direction of the exit, dampening the music considerably. By the time you came to a stop at the Ladies door, you were able to hear how truly tender his words sounded. 

“What happened, my dear?” He questioned but all you did was shake your head, “I know I’m a stranger but I cannot see a gorgeous lady like you crying and not do anything to change that.” Your breath caught as you heard the compliment fall from his lips. He thought you were gorgeous? A man, as godly in looks as himself, thought you, a fairly average woman, was gorgeous? You thought to yourself, truly baffled by his words.

“I-I- erm… are you delusional?” You blurted, clasping your hand over your mouth as the realisation of what you had said hit you. He let out a deep chuckle as you watched him in disbelief, what is with this guy?

“I can assure you, madam, I am not. You truly are a beautiful woman but you still haven’t answered my query.” He smiled softly, brushing his thumb against your parted lips.

"I caught my boyfriend- well, ex boyfriend now- cheating on me with some lass, so I dumped him. Two years of putting up with his shit and this is the reward I get?" You huffed, feeling all of your resentment for Will finally bubbling over. He had done nothing but make you feel the worst about yourself and everything you did; but you were a good little girlfriend, you "shut up" and "did as you were told" and this is what you got in return? That didn't seem fair at all.

"I'm sorry to hear that, darling. Perhaps I can buy you a drink to make up for his pitiful mistake?" You stared into his eyes, lost deep in those ocean blue eyes. You didn't really know what to say, you weren't even sure you'd heard his question correctly.

"I-I don't even know your name." You laughed breathlessly, dumbfounded by the entire scene playing out between the two of you. Why does this feel like a chick flick?

"I'm Loki, Loki Odinson. And you are?" He asked, smiling down at you. Without a moment's hesitation, you told him your name, seemingly unphased by the potential dangers of doing so. "Well, lady Y/N, how about that drink?"

You pondered for a moment, eyes searching Loki's expression for any signs of danger or any suggestions that he may be playing you. When you found nothing, you finally bit the bullet. "Sure, but can we make it a coffee, I need to get out of this place."

There it was again, that enticing smile of his that invited you in for more, "No worries, my place is just round the corner if you'd like to go there… no pressure, of course, and you'll be perfectly safe." He added the last part as he watched a glimmer of fear dance across your delicate features. You took a deep breath, nodding your head slowly as you admitted defeat. How could you resist someone so perfect and sexy?

Barely 20 minutes later, you found yourself standing outside of an elaborate apartment building, as Loki dug his key out of his pocket. As you made your way inside and towards his home, you bobbed up and down anxiously, willing for the elevator to move faster. As the floor number increased, the tension between the two of you seemed to grow stronger and stronger. 

The elevator finally opened onto the entrance hall of a grand penthouse apartment; your eyes grew wide and your jaw dropped as Loki showed you through to the open plan living space. You were sure you could fit your whole apartment in this room at least twice. 

"This is… breathtaking!" You gasped, still unable to take in the space. The sound of a coffee machine starting jumping you out of your daydream. 

"It's not too bad." Loki shrugged, chuckling slightly as you audibly gasped at his comment, "Anyway, how would you like your coffee?"

"Wet and warm." You noted, not caring too much on how it came, as long as you got some caffeine into your system within the next half an hour.

"I asked how you like your coffee, not how you feel." Loki raised one eyebrow examining your body as you realised what his words truly meant. Your brain froze, words catching in the back of your throat; you weren't quite sure how to respond to his comment.

He let out a burst of laughter as you slowly turned to face him, your mouth open and eyes wide with shock.

"I'm sorry," He chuckled, trying and failing to compose himself, "I just couldn't help myself… I mean, you walked right into that joke, darling." Loki didn't even try to hide the smirk which sat proudly on his lips. You had only just met him but you already wanted to smack that look off of his face… or kiss it off, either would suffice.

The tension between the two of you began to grow within the silence. You locked eyes, getting lost in each other’s gaze.

The moment was broken by the coffee machine telling you it had finished. You let out a nervous laugh, averting your eyes as Loki turned to tend to the coffees. Before long he handed you a steaming cup which you took with a wide smile spread across your cheeks. Both leaning against the counter, you drank your brews in a comfortable silence.

“So… how are you feeling now?” Loki asked, dragging you back to Earth from your caffeine high.

“A little better… I don’t want to find him and rip his head off so… yeah.” You laughed nervously as you twiddled your thumbs.

Loki reached across the counter to brush his hand against your cheek, “Hey, that’s an improvement.” He smiled, watching as you instinctively leaned into his touch. You closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the feel of his soft touch; your eyes opened and focused again on his striking features. The tension began to build again.

Loki began to pull you closer, bringing you within centimetres of him. Your gaze fluttered down to his lips, watching intensely as his tongue slipped out to wet them. Without hesitation, you closed the distance between you, bringing your lips together. You moved in unison, lips dancing against each other as the kiss deepened. Loki was the first to pull away, fighting to take in as much oxygen as he could.

“Holy crap!” You breathe, “I wasn’t expecting that.” A small chuckle left Loki’s lips as he watched a look of amazement take control of your features.

“I have more to give,” he smirked, making his way around the kitchen island to stand beside you, “if you’re interested that is?”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as he raised his hand to play with a stray strand of hair. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.” You smiled, chewing absent-mindedly on your lower lip.

“Is that a yes?” Loki asked, placing both of his palms against your cheeks. You nodded yes in response, earning you a scornful look from him. “Use your words, darling.” His voice was stern and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, Loki.” Your voice came out quieter than you had wanted it to, but you were sure of your answer. He pulled you in for another kiss, intoxicating you with every aspect of him. As you pulled away, a soft curse slipped from your lips as you struggled to come to terms with how enticing the man before you was.

“Now… I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that guy’s names.” He smirked, his words making you weak at the knees. Loki slipped his hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you in for another kiss.

This time felt different, more desperate and needy.

Loki began to move you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the couch. He pulled his lips away allowing you both to take in a few deep breaths before he pushed you down onto the couch.

He leaned over you, placing soft kisses against your neck, finding the sweet spot at the base and leaving a mark above it. His hands made quick work on the few buttons holding your top together.

“Holy Hell, you’re beautiful.” He hummed as he helped to push your shirt and bra off of your shoulders. With full access, he dived forwards, littering kisses all over your breasts. A stream of breathy curses and moans fell from your lips as he moved to suck on your nipple.

Loki let out a soft chuckle before continuing to move down your body, leaving more kisses on your exposed skin. He came to a stop, just above the waistband of your jeans. Slowly, he unbuttoned and unzipped them. Loki stood at your feet and pulled your jeans and panties, leaving you fully exposed to his wandering eyes. Your hands started to move towards your exposed skin, intending to cover yourself up.

“Stop.” His voice was stern and unwavering, halting your movement, “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, please don’t hide that!” There was a hungry look in his eyes as he palmed his stiffening cock that was now straining the fabric of his pants.

With a sudden burst of confidence, you crawled towards him on all fours. You came to rest in front of his cock and with slow movements, you began to unzip his pants. With steady hands, you gripped his waistbands, pulling both his pants and briefs down. You watched with hungry eyes as his long, thick cock sprang free of its confines.

Loki hummed deeply as he watched your jaw drop as you took in the view, “Always so shocked, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Less shocked, more thirsty.” You smiled, holding your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as your words fueled the fire in his eyes. With one last hum of excitement, you leaned forwards and began to work on his already leaking cock.

Loki gasped as you sucked and licked at his tip, taking in more as you worked him. It didn’t take long for him to lose his control; he grabbed the back of your head and began to fuck your warm little mouth. He allowed himself a few minutes of bliss before he pulled out of your mouth to watch you whimper at his feet for more.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you?” Loki chuckled, watching you moan at the name he called you, “Do you like that, huh? Like being my little slut?”

You nodded your head eagerly before letting a breathy “Fuck yeah” slip past your lips.

“Now. Lay back and let me use you like the slut you are.” Without a moment's hesitation, you laid back on the couch, spreading your legs to show him your already leaking pussy.

That was all Loki needed to see. He crawled between your legs, licking two thick stripes along your lips, causing you to arch your back in pleasure. Slowly, he kissed his way up your body until he reached your lips. Loki kissed you passionately, distracting you with his tongue as he gently pushed his cock between your lips, inch by inch until he was buried deep inside your soaking cunt. He waited a moment for both of you to adjust to his size then, with a small nod and a moan from you, he began to move in and out of you. He was slow at first, each movement steady and controlled but within minutes he was pumping in and out of you with no restraint.

Each time Loki slammed his hips into yours, his tip brushed against your sweet spot, earning several moans and curses from you. After a few minutes you could already feel the knot in your stomach tightening, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped, loving the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

“Do it!” Loki smirked, “I want to feel your walls tighten around me as you cum on my dick, I want you to scream my name as you let go. Show me who’s slut you really are.”

With that final insult, you felt the knot snap. You came with a cry of his name as Loki continued to ride you through your orgasm. He began to slow slightly as he felt your body begin to relax from your high.

“Fuck…” you groaned, feeling Loki come to a stop, still buried deep inside you, “you made be feel so fuckin good. I didn’t know I could cum that hard.” You chuckled, as you looked up at the triumphant expression plastered across Loki’s face.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already… I was only just getting started.” He smirked as he watched your jaw drop.

This was going to be one hell of a night. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you liked this please don’t forget to reblog :) 

Taglist: <open>

[silentmoths]

👀👋 i come bearing a prompt. modern AU, afab reader x zhongli. Necromancer reader accidentally brings a very handsome, forgotten god of old back from the dead out of curiosity/loneliness.

OOOO yesssss beetch

Resurrected Zhongli x AFAB, very lonely, rookie necromancer Reader

Modern AU, Smut, How the hell you teach a millenias old god how to use a fucking phone, reader doesn't have the best mental health but its ok the god fucks the sadness away.

You...really hadn't hinged much on that dusty old lady at the occult shop when you'd bought that necklace.

but when the smoke clears, your jaw about hit's the floor; because there, within the ritual circle lay a body. an intact body....no signs of decay or rot...holy shit you'd done it! You'd managed simple reanimation before...but nothing so...permenant on such a large scale...hell the last time you'd managed a permenant resurrection had been on your pet rat (five years later and he's still going strong!!) however as things settle, you do notice a few...additions. Namely the Horns...and the tail...and his arms, almost obsidian black from the shoulders down, fading to the same, near glowing gold of his horns at his hands, arcane-looking markings adorning both as his eyes open and he sits up.

You both stare at eachother for a moment, your hands still clutching your spellbook as he...smiles at you.

"Where am I?" He asks, voice low and smooth.

"M-my apartment...?" "And..." *he pauses to look around the room before returning his gaze to you "When, am I?"

"2022..." wow...even the zombies you'd managed to reanimate with some semblance of sentience had never questioned when they were...just who was this...man? it was hard to tell. "and...who are you?" you finally ask.

The man before you chuckles softly "I was once known as Morax, the god of contracts and commerce."

oh, oh fuck what had you done?

a god? now you were beginning to feel sick, especially as he rises to his feet, his robes swirling elegantly as he takes a step towards you, and instinctually you back up, scootching until your back hits the wall as he crosses the threshold of the ritual circle. part of you hoped that he would wither the moment he passes it, but he continues on, eyes on you as he stops before you and...kneels?

"You are a necromancer...and have returned me once more to this mortal coil..."

"I-it was...it was dumb luck..." you stammer at him, his eyes were sinfully hard to look away from, so pretty and alluring, like swirling magma. "I've...I've never managed a full human resurrection before..."

Morax simply smiles "Then it seems we were fated. because you've resurrected a god...how ever did you manage?"

"I-I found...a necklace in an occult shop..." you hold up the necklace in question, a single, shining fang embedded in a beautiful orange gem. "The lady said it belonged to an ancient being...I-I thought she meant human...I never would have-"

"Had you known I was a god, you would not have attempted?" He asks, head tilting curiously "Why?"

"I-I wouldnt want to incur the wrath...." you squeak, but he simply chuckles.

"Well, I'm certainly not upset...I would like to see this new world, and you have brought me here....unless I am mistaken, I am now bound to you until the day you slip from this mortal realm, or the day you choose to dismiss me...so until then...allow me to remain by your side."

----

Turns out, Morax had a different name and form when he was passing as human...honestly there wasnt much different between his more godly vestige and his human, he was still a good two heads taller than you, the audacity.

In this more passable form, he preferred to be known as Zhongli, you supposed it was like demons names, having their name meant having control, but by all accounts you had that already.

Watching him potter about your apartment like a curious old man was...interesting. He spent hours glued to the window, starnig down at the street, taking in the new sights...even if the only 'sights' you got from your dingy downtown apartment were of the strip club and it's neon lights, or the couple that owned the bodega across from your apartment building constantly bickering out the front in a foreign language...they did make a mean sandwhich though...

And then there was the kitchen, he was absolutely enamoured with the microwave of all things, especially when you'd introduced him to microwaveable popcorn bags, it was like watching a curious dog...

however the first night had raised a question of where exactly he was going to sleep, a question he answered himself. As you were looking at your mess of a spare room, an amalgamation of boxes and hobbies you didn't have time for anymore, as well as wondering where your spare sheets were, you find yourself lifted into his arms and carried to your own bedroom.

At first it was awkward, being held so close to another, one hand stroking down your spine as the other gently cards through your hair.

"Y-you don't have to-"

"I want to." Zhongli cuts in easily, smiling softly "I am yours, we are bound, and because of that bond, I can feel certain aspects of your needs..." He doesn't eleborate more than that...and you're glad...because that would mean admitting you were so horrifically lonely that it hurt. Who wanted to be friends with a freak who reanimated the dead for fun? the list was...very short.

----

A week into living with your pet god, you happen to find out about another nifty trick of his. It's as you're lain across the couch, grumbling at your phone. you'd dropped it some months ago and the crack branching across the screen was getting worse, and now the display was beginning to flicker.

"If it bothers you so much...why not simply aquire another?" he asks, sometimes his blunt questions about modern life were rather endearing.

"I would but I just don't have the money for it right now." You sigh in response, leaning your head back onto the arm of the couch, Zhongli simply lifts your legs for a moment to sit as well before placing them back over his lap. "Between rent and bills I don't usually end up left with much money, and every time I do happen to finally scrape some savings together...something always happens...last time it was some jackass kid slashing my car's tyres...time before was my fridge dying..."

"I am surprised...you're talent with reanimation would have surely proved useful...do you offer these services?"

"Tried once... not many people in this day n age....like that idea..." You admit "If anything people think I'm creepy because of it...not my fault it's a family trait."

Zhongli makes a considering noise for a moment before he holds out his hand "may I have your wallet?"

You blink dumbly at him a moment, hand palming at your hip pocket anyway "Like...what the fuck for?"

His smile only widens as you place it into his waiting hand, his form flickering for just a moment to the one you first saw him in as he encompasses it in both hands, a bright light glowing out from the cracks between his fingers before everything fades back to normal and he hands it back. "there...take one of the notes." You blink at him, cryptic motherfucker; but you do as he says. opening it and removing your last $20 and looking at him. He says nothing, his grin only widening before his eyes dart back down to the wallet, your eyes follow suit-

there was anothrt $20...but that can't be right...the $20 was in your hands, but there it is, back in the wallet as well.

"Zhongli...you did not just infinity my wallet...did you?" you ask, voice hoarse.

"Think of it as my gift to you." He responds "and as my way of contributing, as I have been using your ammenaties and eating your food...it seems only right....now you can get a new phone."

you end up getting two, after some messing about with your fancy wallet at the atm, your bank account had never looked so wonderfully full, even if you did have to but a bit of a cap on it, lest the bank be notified about large transactions.

Now teaching a millenias old god how to use a phone? that was a task and a half.

----

It had been a tough day, work had been exhausting, customers had been shitty to you, and your neighbours kept shooting you weird looks as you trudge down the hall,they'd never liked you, but some days you found their scornful glares harder to deal with.

Zhongli doesn't even question it as you lock the door and shuffle right into his chest, letting out a long, frustrated groan until he finally gets with the program and begins stroking your hair.

"A bad day, I take it?" He asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe..."

"I am surprised you have not left your job, considering your wallet..."

"If I didn't have my job I'd never leave the house." you sigh "apparently that shit's good for me."

Zhongli only chuckles, hands slowly winding around your waist and lifting you so you're at face height. at this point you'd grown used to him just...gently manhandling you.

"You are very stressed..."

"Tell me something I don't know, Zhongli." you chuckle sadly, trying desperately to cover over your own emotional pain with humor, but Zhongli only frowns.

"I can feel your anguish...but I do not know what has caused it..." goddamnit.

"It's...it's nothing to worry about...just..normal stuff."

"No...I am yours and I am bound to do what I can for you...allow me this..." fuck, why'd he have to sound so sincere...?

"Im...I just...I'm tired of people...hating me for what I do..." you finally admit, shoulders slumping "I don't...I don't have any other real talents and even then, I'm nowhere near as proficient at necromancy as I could be but...even then people would just hate me more and I don't want to be alone-" your silenced from your slowly unhinging rambling by a pair of lips on yours. For a dead god, his lips were warm, soft, the initial shock wearing off as one of his hands gently braces against your back.

your first kiss, and it had gone to a resurrected god...tick one for the bingo box you guess.

"You are not going to be alone anymore." He whispers "I am yours."

"Z-Zhongli..." you squirm in his grasp, trying desperately to blink away the burning building in your eyes, but he turns slightly, pressing your back up against the wall, all while he looks at you with such sincerity and love that it's almost too much to bare.

"Forgive me, but you are beautiful when you cry" shit. you hadn't meant to let them fall, hadn't meant to fall apart like this, and now there was a supremely handsome god slowly leaning in to kiss those falling tears away in such a tender, sweet motion that it makes your teeth ache.

"Z-zhongli...you don't...you don't have to do this..." you eventually manage, hands clutching at his shoulders, ready for the rejection. "I-I'm happy for you to just...be here...you don't have to pretend to love me..."

The god blinks at you, confusion swimming amongst those molten, golden pools.

"Pretend? I never claimed to be pretending, darling." he responds. "As I said once before, being bound to you affords me some insight into your emotional state and your needs.. and a compulsion to aid...but that compulsion only goes so far... I want to be here with you, like this." And the tears are falling again, how could he be so...so genuine? "You have shown and taught me much about this world and have made me happier than I can recall, simply by existing here with me... so allow me to make you happy...fill that void of lonliness..."

"Y-you don't know what you're asking Zhongli..." it's a pointless endeavour, trying to dissuade him, the determination and sincerity in his eyes was...suffocating.

"You really think I'm not well aware of what I'm asking, darling?" He chuckles; and this time when he leans in to kiss you again, you welcome it.

----

You aren't sure when you'd made it to your bedroom, nor when...or how, Zhongli had stripped you of all but your underwear on the way there. One moment you're being violently frenched by a literal god, the next moment he's pressing you into the sheets, bearing down with a ravenous hunger you'd never experienced in your short, mortal life as his teeth ghost along your flesh, testing here and there.

"F-fuck...Zhongli...I-I've...I'm not...I've never-" you can't even find the proper words to articulate, but one of his hands wraps around yours to hold you steady.

"No need to fear... This is something I've done many times." he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek "relax, shut your eyes...enjoy yourself."

You try, having no idea what else to do, wrenching your eyes shut as you will yourself to just breathe. It was just Zhongli, you don't even know if he has the capacity to hurt you, if the spell that had brought him to life here had that kind of effect, or if his own sense of servitude forbade it. But beneath his calculated touch and words of reassurance, you slowly, surely, find yourself melting to his whims, breathy half-moans escaping your lips as his mouth closes over a nipple, while the hand not holding yours snakes downwards, beneath the waistband of your underwear, two fingers sliding between already slick folds and pressing against your clit.

It's... a different feeling, someone else touching you as opposed to yourself. More intense, less control, and in a way, that was scary. you'd always been in control of yourself, so to let someone else take over was...difficult...and yet Zhongli made it feel so nice, so easy as he works the knot in your belly tighter and tighter.

Your eyes snap open when something thick and scaley winds around your leg, oh, he'd shifted back to the form you'd first resurrected him in, it was difficult to say if it was intentional or not, not that you minded... not even when his fangs break skin by your collar bone, if anything, you nearly scream with pleasure.

"So perfect...it had to be fate that you came across that necklace and summoned me..." he growls, hand untangling from yours to tear away at your underwear, you almost had the forwithall to scold him, but a perfectly timed thrust of his fingers shut you up.

You're so damn close, shaking and whining, hands clutching at his shirt when he suddenly pulls away, and you cry out in frustration, opening your eyes to glare at him. He only smirks, slowly shucking his shirt, making sure you watch, and boy what a show...you'd never tire of seeing his body...

However it's when he finally sheds his trousers that you become very aware of the situation.

"thats...big." you really do try not to gawk but...holy shit. Atleast Zhongli only seems to take it as a compliment, chuckling at he slowly rolls his hips against you, collecting the slick mess between your thighs to use as lube, you half half a mind to reach for your bedside table where you did happen to keep a bottle (hey masturbating felt better that way!!) but his hands grip at your hips, large enough to near encircle the entirety of your waist, he takes a moment to simply rest his cock against you, and you flush deep red when you realise he's measuring just how...deep he was going to end up being... "A-are you sure thats going to...?"

"Trust me darling, it will." He reassures as he continues to slowly rut his cock through your slick folds, slowly, but surely re-tightening that knot.

When he does finally shift his hips and push inside? you really are expecting pain, but what you get instead is a warm, tingly ache that's sweet around the edges. you sigh and moan quietly, biting at your lip as he continues, refusing to stop until his hips meet yours. It feels...less cosmic than you imagined sex with a god would...but it still leaves you delighfully full in a way you'd never quite experienced before.

"there...see? not so bad, is it?" The god rumbles from above you, hands still pressing on your hips to keep you both still. Atleast until you whine and squirm beneath him; only then does he get with the program, shifting his grip to your thighs instead as he pulls back and thrusts right back in and you wonder to yourself, if you had, in fact, accidentally reanimated an incubus with how stupidly fast he was bringing about your first orgasm of the night.

your hands skitter across the sheets, searching desperately for an anchor point, which they eventually find on Zhongli's horns, earning a pleased hiss from the god and a slight increase in pace, his tail occasionally yanking at your leg to pull you further, deeper, harder, and you choke for it.

You never expected yourself to be so....loud in bed... it was embarassing and lewd and you cant seem to bite back your moans and cries, gods, what if the neighbours heard? they'd probably assume you were up to some new, nasty ritual and hate you even more- A particularly hard thrust breaks you from your spiralling thoughts, Zhongli's golden gaze boring deeply into your face.

"All eyes on me, darling. don't worry about anything else." he huffs, right, he could sense when your thoughts were wandering...but you're glad for it as he lowers himself a little, enough for you to bury your face into his shoulder as a muffle, especially when your orgasm hits, the sound caught somewhere between a scream and a choked whine. you're worried that you might actually snap the poor mans horns clean off with how tightly you grip down on everything.

Zhongli lets out a shuddering gasp right into your ear "Darling...k-keep squeezing like that and I'm not going to last much longer." He huffs, his tail squirming against your leg, despite his words, he continues to fuck you hard and deep through what was definitely the most intense orgasm of your life. Things get...fuzzy after that. All you really remember is that Zhongli certainly had the stamina of a god, losing track of just how long he fucks you into that mattress.

He tells you the next day that he continued for as long as he did to, in his words 'pay your due' and even then, the man claims he's nowhere near close.

one of these days you'd have to look into the ramifications of a rookie necromancer fucking her first proper resurrection, but you're not quite sure how many articles cover that resurrection being an ancient god...

thoughts for later, you suppose.

[wheredafandomat]

Home movie

A/N: Enjoy this smutty non thought out oneshot that I’m typing from my room that has been pumped full of hellfire and heated as if it was Satan himselves Throne

Loki x reader x Bucky Of course there’s some smut I’m in hell here

P2

“Who was that on the phone?” Loki asked, tucking your chair under the table as you sat down.

“Just Bucky, he was asking where my mace and chain was.” You replied as Loki took his own seat.

“And you just happen to keep that in your room? How comes I’ve never seen it in there?” Loki questioned as he picked up his menu.

“Thats because when you’re in my room, we don’t spend time looking through my weapons cabinet.” You grinned as you picked up your own menu.

“Fair.” He answered, pulling down your menu as he winked at you.

Meanwhile, Bucky made his way towards your room after getting off of the phone to you. Arriving, he opened the door before taking a step inside as his eyes moved over the contents. Your room was tidy and your bed made but the evidence of you getting ready earlier was evident. There was a discarded lipstick on the bed as well as an odd earring. Stepping further inside, Bucky noticed the red pair of lacy thongs carelessly left on the floor too and he swallowed thickly at the sight. The urge to pick them up and take them with him was strong but he fought to overcome it especially with the image he had conjured in his mind of Loki somehow finding out and punishing him. He didn’t know whether that’s what he wanted or not. He stepped over them and continued towards the cabinet until he felt something underneath his foot. Looking down, he noticed that he had stepped on the remote that was halfway sticking out from under your bed. He bent to pick it up before hearing your voice coming from the TV. Quickly, he spun on his feet, eyes widening at the sight before him.

“Is it recording?” You called from the bed as Loki set up the camera at the end of it wearing nothing but his boxers whilst you were no more clad, your body shielded by Lokis who turned and began kneeling on the bed.

“It is.” He nodded, widening your legs as he settled between them.

“Knowing you, it’s not, I should check.” You insisted, beginning to get up before Loki hooked your legs around his waist.

“Don’t you trust me?” He murmured, leaning down as he began kissing your neck.

“I’d be mad to.” You murmured, eyes closed as you moved your head to the side allowing Loki further access to your neck.

Bucky didn’t notice when he had began absentmindedly running his hand over his bulge after he had thrown something at the door to close it before focusing back onto the screen. He just knew that It was somewhere between Loki going down on you and the sight of him removing his boxers. The sound of your light moans quietly filled the room through the speakers on the TV as Loki devoured you. Slowly, he sat on the bed as he unbuckled his belt. He wouldn’t stroke himself to completion but he had to properly enjoy this home movie that he had stumbled across whilst he could. He knew that it was wrong, perverted but there was something about you and Loki that stirred something in him. It always had.

When you both first started dating, he felt a slight twinge of jealously. He and Loki had become friends and he had always had feelings for you. This jealousy grew into something else when he had caught you both kissing. Lokis hands moved over your body as he pulled you flush against him. You were moaning into the kiss as Lokis hand found your ass. He felt himself growing hard at the sight and quickly averted his gaze before leaving the room.

Another time, he had watched you and Loki sparring together. Sweat trickled down Lokis face before he lifted his shirt to wipe it off. You had bitten your lip before prompting him to take the whole thing off. Something about watching Loki in all his godly glory being pinned to the ground by you was extremely sexy. Whilst Loki was under you, he of course bucked his hips upwards causing you to gasp as your hands found his chest. There were words exchanged between you both, secret words but Bucky had heard them. When you both walked out of the room together, he knew that Loki was about to fuck you, probably against the wall or even in the shower. Either way, it was hot to think about.

Now sitting in front of the TV, Bucky wrapped his hand around his hard cock as he watched Loki slamming his hips into yours.

“Yesss Lokiii that feels so goood.” You moaned as Loki leant further down, your legs hooked behind his head as he quickened his pace, pounding you.

“You feel so good, so perfect.” He grunted, baring his teeth as he plunged deeper into you.

“Please don’t stop please don’t stop please don’t stoppp.” You begged desperately as Loki circled his hips, grounding into you.

Reaching over to grab a few tissues from the tissue box, Bucky couldn’t help but ejaculate with a strangled cry as you screamed Lokis name, reaching your own climax. He felt strangely in tuned with you. He continued stroking his shaft as he came down from his high but he was annoying still hard and Loki had ordered you to go on all fours. Another one wouldn’t hurt he thought as he glanced at the time and realised you and Loki hadn’t been gone for long at all considering it was a date night in a fancy restaurant. He had helped Loki plan it.

He made himself slightly more comfortable, laying against the bed as he picked up a few more tissues as Loki entered you again with leisurely strokes. He didn’t know who he wanted to be in that moment. Loki, fucking you, feeling you clenching around his cock as you moaned his name or perhaps you having the privilege of being stretched by Loki. Being fucked by a god.

Concurrently, you and Loki were kissing in the restroom after you told him to follow you. Before you had left, Loki had given you a little present which consisted of vibrating underwear and a remote that he had control over. What he failed to mention was that he was going to edge you all night until you were begging him to fuck you.

“Did the restaurant take your card details for the reservation?” You asked, breaking the kiss.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Then teleport us home.”

“We’ve only had a glass of wine.” He countered as he smiled down at you.

“Please.”

“So desperate. My desperate little y/n, that’s what I’ll call you from now on.” He chirped as you knitted your brows.

“If you don’t take us home right now, then we have to do it here and if we do it here, you have to be very quiet.” You stipulated.

“Is that a threat?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded “Come on, we both know quiet sex isn’t in your forte.”

“I’m impressed.” He smirked “very well.” He announced, latching his lips back onto yours before teleporting outside your room. Your lips never broke contact as you kicked the door open, pulling Loki in with you.

“HARDER! FASTER LOKI!”

You instantly broke the kiss, eyes widening when you heard yourself from the TV. Spinning on your feet, ready to attack as well as Loki who conjured two daggers, you gasped as your eyes settled on Bucky who was fumbling for the remote, dick in hand.

“At ease soldier.” You called, tapping Lokis wrist to put his daggers away as your eyes stayed focused on Buckys who was looking at you with an apologetic expression after sheathing himself.

“Y/n I’m—” he started, beginning to stand up.

“Stay.” You insisted.

“What?”

“She said stay.” Loki added, standing next to you as he looked down at Bucky.

“Is this how you get off? Watching me and Loki?” You demanded.

“No—I—please.” Bucky stuttered.

“Silence!” Loki exclaimed causing Buckys now covered cock to twitch.

“What do you say Loki, how about we have a little fun with him?” You suggested as you turned to Loki to speak.

“It has been a while since I let my carnal desires run rampage.” He sneered, closing the door properly before looking back at Bucky.

“Naughty boys get punished.” You grinned.

NEXT PART

Tags:

@lokisninerealms

@mischief2sarawr

@eyesbluelikethetitanic

@lokiprompts

[hotdamnhunnam]

Hey lovie! Sorry I’m a bit late but could I request something for your 2k celebration (congrats again!💛)

Could I request a Jax Teller story with these emojis

🌧👅⛺️

I look forward to seeing what story you write based off of these emojis! 💛

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats! 💗

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Bitch a Tent

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, sex in the great outdoors, while it rains and pours Word Count: ~1k Emoji Prompt: 🌧👅⛺️ (key words are in bold)

“Fuck this shit!”

Jax Teller’s first ever attempt to pitch a tent just isn’t going very well. He’s never been camping before and you can tell. Ten minutes in and he’s fed up with it. Fuming and furious as hell. Throwing the bitchiest bitch fit.

It doesn’t help now that the weather fucking sucks. It’s rotten luck. One of those days when even though the sun shines bright, a random shower just attacks from out of nowhere which is really not alright. Totally fucked. The rain has paused for now but both of you are soaked. You’re not complaining since your man looks so damn good all dripping wet it makes you choke.

Droplets are trickling from his beard as damp gold tresses frame his face… his shirt is matted to his skin and perfectly accentuates the contours of his muscles in a way that makes your dirty little heart hammer and race…

You struggle not to let your thirsty thoughts distract you as you see him hopelessly shoving a tent pole in the totally wrong place.

“Jax, stop!” you laugh, watching him grappling with the pole so angrily he’s close to breaking it in half. Stuck in a battle with this bendy piece of metal and determined to come out on fucking top. You take it in your own grip firm and tight. Wishing instead that you were grasping at his shaft. “Hold up, you’re not sticking it in right…”

He flashes you his signature smug smirk, because he’s such a fucking jerk. “That isn’t what you said last night.”

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him like a bratty little child. Wishing instead that you could wrap that slutty tongue around his big fat dick and drive him fucking wild.

Jax chuckles, looking on and licking his lips as you expertly drive in this stubborn rod where it belongs, grasp hard and strong, tight and white-knuckled. “Lookatchu working that pole.”

“Just had to lend a hand because my dumbass boyfriend couldn’t stick it in the fucking hole.”

“What if I told you I was screwing up on purpose so that I could watch you do it?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. I’d call bullshit,” you scoff knowing that he’s full of it. “Your alpha male ego is bruised because your girl can do what you couldn’t, and you’d better fess up to it.”

Of course you know Jax Teller never ever will. But just as you’d intended, he’s offended… so the beast in him is raging now as he’s dripping with rainwater. And he’s never looked hotter. Hot enough to fucking kill.

***************

“I’ll show you how I stick it in the fucking hole.”

Jax loves to literally make you eat your words. He rasps them fierce into the wet gape of your mouth until they pierce into your soul, now as he pounds you on a bed of rain-soaked grass so hard it hurts. He’s just the worst. Gets off on pumping you so full and swallowing you whole. Your pussy pulsates all around his massive girth stretching you out until it feels like you’re about to fucking burst.

The tent that you had started putting up is far from finished. But Jax really couldn’t wait to do his business. He’s been railing you to pieces as the rain showers began, soaking the both of you again, just over these past several minutes.

And now he’s gloating on the power that his godlike cock has over you as he continues splitting your wet pussy open with it. Just the way he loves to plow. The way that only Jax knows how. “That shut you up real good now, didn’t it.”

You need to cum but you already know that he’s forbidden it. The rule that you can only ever reach release when Jax permits it is engraved deep in your core where his divine dominant dick has proudly written it. You’d never dare to disobey after how many times you’ve ridden it.

Although the two of you are clothed, it’s like the rain has stripped you both. The way it soaks makes such a joke of all your clothing. Barriers between your skin and his reduced to fucking nothing. The godly gorgeous man above you is a motherfucking king and looks more powerful than ever with the way the rainfall darkens as it drenches. Everything inside you clenches.

You could just die from this view. You do die as he then leans down to kiss you. Kisses long and hard and slow, pace of his lips such a stark contrast to the fast snap of his hips as his thick shaft slides in and out of your tight cunt until you’re both about to blow.

In the exact second that Jax at last allows you to let go… a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky with its electric glow, and you cum harder than the thunder bound to follow—light and sound moments apart, unlike the two of you who cum undone in sync to the aligned pound of your hearts, your peak and his one and the same as his seed spills explosively and fills you so ferociously while all your juices flow. Just how a man on earth can fuck like this you’ll never really know.

It doesn’t matter though—you’re his and he is yours and thankfully you know exactly how to push all of his buttons. Piss him off so that he’ll fuck your cunt to bits all of a sudden.

When it’s time to pitch a tent Jax Teller turns into a whiny little bitch who fucking can’t. But you sure can, and aren’t afraid to show it even if it makes him feel less of a man. What really matters is that you can always pitch a very big tent in his pants.

Cum rain or shine, Jax Teller’s dick is just divine. To you he is a golden god wielding his fuck-stick like a thunderbolt and goddamn does he love to play that role. He’s got the biggest pole, and always knows exactly how to stick it in the hole.

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

@happyhunnams @band--psycho @est11 @edonaspanca @starbooty @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @coffeebooksandfandom @thesuicidalflower @flaireandsynch @helloheyhihowdyheya @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @zozebo @bettergetusetoit @emilykjh @little-diable @rocketqueen @mrspeacem1nusone @miss-smutty @rayslittlekitten @abby-splace @chubbychubbs28 @miraclesoflove @tegggeeee @hunnambabe @missusnora @kesskirata @vixenrebellion @thexhostess @pomegranatearildreams @kandii395 @severewobblerlightdragon @itspdameronthings @niki-xie @cind-in-real-life @saweetspoiled @poge-life @few-proud-emotonal @samanthaisnthome @melodranas @soaharleys @charlie-hunnams-old-lady @simpmasterjr @nataliewalker93 @lovebarefootblonde @marvelousmermaid @tsukuyomi011 @sciapod @midnight-dreams-23

[captainapple]

Secret

Pairing: Andy Barber X Fem! Reader

Summary: Andy and you were nemesis in the courthouse

Word Count: 800+

Warning: smut, implicit smut, 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: I don't have any ideas how lawyer, DA, and court works, I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. I also experienced a block and this story kinda being forced. Sorry if it disappoints you. Using prompt from the bingo, "suit up".

Bingo Masterlist || Masterlist

18+! MINORS DNI!

“Ma’am, could you spare us a glimpse of your tactics for today?”

“Are you confident to win the case today?”

“Do you feel any guilt at all?”

The reporters from medias all over Boston gathered around the courthouse. The flashes of their cameras were everywhere as you made your way inside. The shouting from Boston community was still heard in the main lobby of the courthouse. You knew they would speak the filthiest curses at you just because you were doing your job. You could finally breathe after stepping in the empty elevator.

“Look who’s arrived,” Neil mocked right after you stepped out of the elevator, “the lucifer!”

“I’m surprised to see you still here, Mr. Loguidice. The office really needs an underpaid worker, doesn’t it?”

His face turned red as he fisted his hand. Andy cleared his throat and stepped in between you two and cut Neil’s intention to mouth another insult. He greeted you politely before guiding you inside the room. The meetings with the judge and Andy lasted quite long, discussing additional evidence and witnesses. Defending your client was a hard work and long process, considering the heavy crime she was in and how good Andy was as the assistant district attorney.

In Boston, Andy was known as the best crime fighter, less talking and the bad guys went straight to jail. However, you were a reputable lawyer as well. The media called you ‘the lucifer in heels’, dealing with high clients who had done severe crimes both blue collar and white collar. The courthouse knew that it would be a long trials when both of you were in the same room. Not that you were complaining about your rival. Andy was the most respectable man, professional, and smart. His blue eyes, neatly trimmed beard, and all of his godly physical attributes were also an eye candy in the courtroom.

Trials and trials had been through, yet the verdict has not been decided. It finally came to the jury trial for the next day. You finally had time to breathe for a while. Convincing others was always your specialties, the trial would not be a problem.

“Care for a talk? I heard there is a new diner around here.” Andy asked you after the meeting finished.

“I thought we all agree not to talk about business outside the courthouse, Mr. Barber.”

“No business, I promise.”

You nodded. “Just tell me where and I’ll see you there.”

It took both of you a ten minutes drive to reached the place. The diner was nice. It was homely place with simple food. You spent quite a long time talking about life with Andy. Just like his promise, no business talk. The fries had long forgotten.

You could not remember what started it but here you were, in front of the door hurriedly looking for the keys as his hands exploring every inch of your body. Both of you were kissing each other sloppily and did not even make it to the bedroom. Your clothes had been discarded the moment when the door was close.

The heat was undeniable between two of you. Your moan echoed as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. His name sounded like a prayer rolled from your tongue. The low growl and your name came out from his mouth, feeling the release was close. At this point, you were beyond exhausted, and he was still pounding you hard. Another orgasm washed over you while you trembled and milked him. He came afterwards, painting your wall with his seeds.

Both of you laid on the floor for a while to catch your breath. The cold from the floor started to reach your spine.

“My back is starting to get cold.”

Andy stood up. You could feel his warm hands as he lifted you. “Don’t worry, I got you. Let’s go to bed.”

Frantic alarm sound woke you up. You were still tired and sore from last night, but you had to get ready for the trial today. You heard the bathroom door was open. Andy stepped out as his towel hung low, revealing his perfectly sculpted body with some tattoos. It was like a magnet. You got up from the bed and walked towards him. Voluntarily, your fingers tracing the outline of his body.

“It’s not the first time you see me, sweetheart.” You did not need to see his face to know that he was smirking.

“You don’t invite me to the shower.” You whined and pouted like a child.

“We don’t have time for that. You don’t want to be late for trial. Now, shower and suit up.” He put his hands on his waist. He literary looked like a dad scolded his child.

“Ugh! I know.” You stooped making your way to the bathroom.

“Hey! Once this over, I promise we don’t need to keep this a secret anymore, Mrs. Barber.”

[teenyweenynightghost]

As lucky as the rainbow

A/n: Im sorry. Also. Special dedication to the love of my life, @cantaraiilmionome , who let me write this fic

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Vic X Fem!Reader

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee​ @shehaddreamstoo​ @tiaamberxx​ @victoriadeangeliswifey​ @bidet-and-legolas​ @makapaka11​ 

My heartbeat was wild and mostly erupting from my chest as the whole world around me seemed to quiet down. The mesh shirt I was wearing was already crumpled from all the times I had fiddled with it nervously. To be honest, could anyone really blame me? I have been obsessed with Måneskin for ages, and I finally get to see them live. A small, really pesky part of my brain kept bugging me. They would have no reason to like or notice you; why are you even here? Well, that definitely did not help the anxious feeling growing in my stomach.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as four rock stars appeared on the stage.

And oh god what they were wearing. A certain blonde caught my attention, one who I was more than familiar with. Victoria strutted on the stage, her bass strap wrapped around her, as a small corset did nothing to cover her. Two black stripes of tape covered each of her boobs and she looked celestial. It was unfair to everyone else! How could she just look like that!?

“Is everyone ready?” Damiano’s strong voice sounded out of the speakers, earning an excited cheer from everyone.

As they started playing, I realised I was no longer anxious. Moving from side to side and jumping along with them, It felt as If the world stopped temporarily just for me to enjoy this moment. It was truly heaven, and their magnetic presence made it infinitely better.

“Now, for a fan favorite…” Damiano spoke into the mic, soon interrupted by the all too familiar notes of For Your Love. Oh god.

I couldn’t decide who to pay attention to; Ethan’s godly form playing the drums in a way I wished he would play my ass, Thomas’ talented fingers strumming the guitar chords, Damiano fucking the stage while singing or-

Oh.

I was one of the lucky ones who got to sit up front. So my view of Victoria was truly a dream come true. Her eyes were closed as she thrusted into the air, her hips moving with precision and skill, as she moved her head backwards in rhythm with the song. Two of her fingers were plucking the chords, clouding my mind with thoughts of what else she could do with them.

The whole song became a vivid fantasy for me, as I kept watching Victoria play, entranced by her sensuality. The song sadly came to a stop, and Damiano started speaking again. My lovely brain, however, could only gaze at Victoria, her wonderful top and fingers.

As If on cue, she knelt down right at the edge of the stage, and winked at me. Wait, she did what? My brain stopped functioning as I kept staring at her, eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open.

She smirked at my reaction, and motioned for me to come closer with her finger. A bodyguard came and opened the barrier, as I made my way through.

I was right in front of the stage, looking in her icy blue eyes. She leaned down and cupped my cheek, shaking it softly.

“Wanna stay here, cucciola?” She asked,  a sultry smile appearing on her face. I nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh, before returning to her band.

The rest of the concert managed to make me so wet I was convinced my knees would give in the second I would try to walk. Between Victoria grinding on the floor right in front of me, making sure to stare right in my eyes, Damiano jumping in the crowd and grabbing Thomas, as well as Ethan being an overall god-like presence.

It was, however, over, as soon as it started. My face fell as they all waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and I turned around, preparing to leave, but was soon interrupted by a guard.

“Miss De Angelis said that she would like you to go backstage.”

That was the second time the girl’s actions shocked me. I certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last as I followed the guard to the back.

“Ah, there you are, cucciola!” Her raspy voice exclaimed, as she headed towards me and grabbed my waist, leading me towards a changing room before I could even mutter a word.

“You, I me- mean ...Why? Like… I just thi-I” Damn it, where was my wittiness when I needed it? If I wasn’t already blushing, I probably looked like a sweaty tomato right now.

“Oh darling, I suggest you figure out how to talk, so I’ll know how to please you later.” She murmured in my ear, my knees almost giving up at her words.

“Oh god, umm, I- hi.” I managed to let out. I’m so glad I could ramble about crystals for 3 hours but when It comes to basic greetings my mind just dips. Lovely.

“We have about 15 minutes before we need to leave.” She said, grabbing my body and pulling me right against her, softly nibbling on my neck.

“Considering the way you fucked the stage earlier, I think even 5 would suffice.” Ah yes, my brain was back. Temporarily, though, because Victoria’s hungry lips smashed into mine in a fraction of a second, quickly turning me around so I would be prompted against the wall.

We moved in sync as she sucked every breath out of me and explored my mouth with her tongue. She bit my lip hard, and licked the reddish spot which appeared, before moving onto my neck.

She sucked on every inch of my skin, leaving deep red marks in her wake, which would definitely be an interesting subject of discussion once I got home. I couldn’t help but let out the most pathetic whines, which only seemed to turn Victoria on more.

“So fucking desperate puppy. All I do is dance a little on stage and you’re already willing to be on your knees for me.” She purred right against my breast, earning a deep moan from my treacherous mouth,

“What can I say, I like being a good girl.”

Her mouth bit into the soft skin which was now exposed, as my poor shirt was laying on the floor, discarded seconds ago. I whimpered and bucked my hips into the air, whining even more at the realisation that there was nothing there.

“Please..” I begged, as she kept kissing and licking around my hardened buds, heating me up even more.

“Take your pants off, then” She instructed, and I did it in a heartbeat, the piece of clothing joining my shirt.

The last thing I saw was the blonde’s head lower , before her tongue finally gave me what I wanted. She swiped it deeply inside of me, humming at the liquids pouring from me. Moving to my clit, she started circling around it as one of her long fingers thrusted deep inside of me.

“Fuck… Victoria…” 

She added another finger and quickened her pace, as I rapidly approached my edge. God, no one did it as well as her. She was getting rougher by the second, biting at my thighs and sucking hardly, until she heard my breath catch, before I erupted in a mess of loud moans and screams.

I came hard on her hand as she guided me down to the ground, licking the tears falling from my eyes.

“You really do like being a good girl.” She whispered, cupping my cheek and pressing a soft kiss on my puffy lips.

“Oh I can be bad too.” I smirked, watching as her eyes darkened.”

“How about you return to the hotel with me, and we can explore that talent too…”

***

More than half an hour had passed, and I was sitting in an Uber right next to Victoria. While the band packed up their stuff, I hung out on the stage, eating a popsicle Damiano had given me.

“Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Victoria’s voice interrupted my thoughts, softly grazing her fingers over my thighs.

“Like I wouldn’t cancel them for you.” I responded, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“Excellent. How about we talk a little then, hmm?” She asked, pulling me closer to her.

“About what?” I asked, clearly thinking of innocent topics.

“Which was your favourite part about how I fucked you backstage.”

Oh. My. God. At this point, my brain had stopped working so many times, I probably had approximately 2 brain cells left. And damn, I answered in a corresponding fashion.

“I must say I enjoyed the talking.” 

Victoria laughed, a devilish grin forming on her face, as I bet her mind filled with the dirtiest ideas.

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll make sure we’ll do just enough talking.”

“Wait no- You know, I really liked the cum part too.” I tried to save myself, because let’s be honest, If this woman was anything, it was a tease.

“Considering how loud you were moaning, I bet you were.” She purred again, dragging her fingers further up my thighs.

“Tell me, what did you fantasise about most while watching me play?”

My mind went blank, but not really, as the thought of her grinding on my face while practicing the bass made its way into my head. God, I was royally fucked.

“Tell me, pet.” She snarled against my neck, grabbing it roughly and bending me over.

Her hand wandered down to my ass, grabbing it roughly before slithering back around to my stomach, and pulling me up again.

“Practicing your bass on my face.” I moaned out, red and embarrassed.

“A lovely imagination you have. I’ll make sure to consult it more often.” 

“That won’t work. It seems to go blank around you.” 

Victoria smirked at my confession and pressed me down onto her lap, slowly working her way under my shirt. 

“I really like this. Where did you get it?”

“My mom.”

“She wears this?”

Fuck. “Oh, you meant the shirt?”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the material up, and pressed a wet kiss to both of my breasts. Oh god, this girl would kill me.

“My special thanks to her. And also my apologies, because I’ll fuck you till you scream and cry tonight.”

[nctsworld]

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous   ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.  

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.  

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.    

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.  

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.  

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.  

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.  

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”  

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.  

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.  

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.  

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.  

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.      

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.  

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.  

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.  

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”  

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.  

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.  

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.  

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.  

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.  

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.        

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.  

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.  

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.  

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”  

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

[yamalegacy]

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list  “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

   Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water. 

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind. 

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.17

Happy Times

03/05/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,336

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, big smut, smutty smut, talk of pregnancy, infertility, trouble with conception

A/N: This is the big one. The one I’ve been waiting to share. To write out and perfect and I hope it hits you all the way it did me to write it. I love this chapter for many reasons. The smut is probably one of my favorites to have written. I don’t know why. I hope y’all enjoy it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Something settles between you and Thor after your sobbing conversation.

Thor has always been sweet with you after your marriage but he seems intent. Like he’s playing catch up and watching him is exhausting.

You know it’s your fault. He probably feels like he has to give you reassurance and two days of watching him fluster, you finally reach out to grab his hand before he can get too far away from you.

"Thor wait," you sigh, pulling him back towards the bed.

You’re not dressed yet, wearing only his heather gray t-shirt. It’s stretched a little around the neck because you’d been pulling it a lot last night in your eagerness to have him on you.

"What is it, my cherub?" he worries, sitting back down beside you as you pull yourself up to sit too.

His hands fly towards you, an instinct, as he places his hands on your hips then slides one up along to your waist then your ribs where you flinch a little from the surprise of his touch.

You’re still not used to him touching you in some places. Not his fault. Not really yours either. You don’t mind. It’s just new.

"Nothing, Thor. Everything is fine. And that's the point."

With a sigh you get up, letting go of his hand as you make your way to the cord by the door that calls in one of your staff.

"I was going to go get it for you," Thor explains. “I know you’re hungry.”

"I know, but Thor...what's going on with you?”

Sitting beside him again, you take his hand and lace your fingers through his as he reaches to touch you again.

You pull his hands onto your lap and sit with one leg folded up on the bed while the other hangs off the edge.

The skin of your thigh draws his attention and he takes back his right hand so that he can reach out and stroke it, pushing the shirt up just a smidge.

“What do you mean?” he asks, not understanding your own confusion.

“I mean, watching you fuss over me has been...I’m exhausted just watching you.”

Thor’s hand never stops stroking but there’s a small understanding that smooths his creased forehead.

“Oh,” Thor smiles a little sadly, and it almost rips your heart out.

“Thor,” you fret, suddenly terrified, voice rising in pitch.

You scoot closer to him to close the gap and he lets his hand slide up underneath your shirt to wrap around your side to hold you. You rest your knee on his own, also folded up on the bed so that he could sit facing you.

Meeting your eyes at the sound of grief in your voice, his beautiful blue eye goes wide, “No, cherub. Do not worry for me. I’m more than alright. I know that I have been a bit enthusiastic in my attention to your needs but it was only because I wanted to make it clear.”

“Make what clear?”

He shrugs one shoulder, pouting his lips as he shakes his head and turns his gaze down to your hand still holding tightly to his.

“That you are my one priority,” he looks up, smiling wide but it’s somewhat forced. “Of course you are. My beautiful wife.”

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach and you bite your lip as your mind races to fix this.

“Is this because of what happened the other morning? Because of me?”

You know it is, and even as he shakes his head, you know he’s lying.

“Thor…” you warn him, “Honesty, remember?”

His head freezes mid shake and with a small sigh, he nods.

“I never want to see you cry like that again,” he confesses.

Without missing a beat, you throw yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and practically sit in his lap as he responds instantly and embraces you.

He holds you tight, tighter than he normally does which makes your fear double. He buries his face against your neck and breathes in deep as you reach up to stroke his short blonde locks.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper for him. “I was being silly the other morning.”

You weren’t though. Your insecurities had been founded in a real problem. It no longer applied though, the moment he accepted you as his wife, so you shouldn’t hold it against him.

“I believe you, Thor. I know that you love me. And I appreciate everything you’ve done these past two days, but you don’t have to try so hard. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to.”

“Your worries were not unfounded,” Thor disagrees, unwilling to let you trivialize your feelings. “I once asked you to do something that affected your image of me. I gave you those doubts. Even if they hold no merit now, they were my words.”

“Fine, I had reason to be upset, but Thor this is too much If you keep going at this pace, you’re going to wear yourself out emotionally. I don’t want you to resent your love for me. I appreciate you wanting to make sure I know how you feel--and I do know--but you trying so hard feels almost as bad as why I was upset in the first place.”

The confusion on his godly face is heartbreaking.

“How-?”

“I don’t want to be a burden on you. I want our marriage to be a partnership. We’ll figure things out together, work through things as a team. You were on a team with the Avengers, right? Didn’t you all do much better together than you could do separately?

“And when any of you did break away, how did things go then? Not good, I’m guessing.”

Thor nods, “Not good.”

“I don’t want us to break away from each other. I’m glad you understand how much the way we started had me worried, but I get it too now. I know you don’t want Jane. And I’ll be better about my insecurities.

“So, can you stop running around like crazy and just be with me?”

Reaching up you place both of your hands on the sides of his neck, wrapping your hands around the back to give him a gentle shake.

He takes his own hands and traces your back from shoulder to hips then back up before he pulls you in against his chest to simply hold you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your head beneath his chin.

“I guess I should probably cancel that chocolatier I hired just for you then?”

You shove your face against the skin of his collarbone and laugh a smothered laugh as he presses his lips against your hair.

“Oh, my god!” you shout, voice still muffled against his pecs.

Thor chuckles, then reaches down to take hold of your chin and tilt your head back until he can lean over you and press his lips to yours.

He kisses you again and again, slow languid pecks that smack quietly, wetly as his lips begin to part. A stirring between your legs makes you shiver and Thor quickly hooks his hands behind your knees to pull you onto his lap where you straddle him easily.

The position places you higher and as your heights are reversed, you grasp the sides of his face. You trace the shape of his top lip with your tongue and he sighs heavily. A huff of mild frustration before he lifts you, flipping you at the same time to press you down onto the mattress.

He kisses the corner of your lips, making a trail down along your jaw to your neck where he licks and suckles driving your sex absolutely wild. It contracts, searching desperately for filling.

“You-drive-me-absolutely-mad-” Thor gasps between wet kisses.

“Oh, Thor…” you whisper, a breathy moan that makes him growl.

He pulls you up for only a second as he takes the shirt off your body then pushes you back onto the bed as his mouth finds your breast to nibble.

He circles your nipples, raising pebbled peaks while his hands trace every curve of your body.

Somewhere in your mind, you’re aware that the bedroom door opens and a timid Estrid’s voice floats in.

“Good morning, Your Majesties. Are you ready for break-? Oh!”

And just as quickly as her voice floated in, it’s gone, the click of the door prompting Thor to stand and pull off his pajama pants.

He strokes himself, drawing your eyes to his large cock but instead of filling you up the way your cunt desperately wants, he pushes your legs apart and up towards you.

One long stroke of his tongue to drive your folds apart pulls a shuddering moan from your parted lips.

“Breakfast indeed,” he mutters, then latches onto your core to suckle on your nub then lap at you hungrily making you quiver.

But you want him inside you. You long to be full with him, pumped with his seed.

He notices your reluctance to his feast, your impatience. It makes him angry? No. It makes him want to change your mind.

He throws himself down flat on his stomach, your legs tossed over his shoulders as his hands make their way to tweak your nipples as his tongue pushes inside of you.

You gasp, arching your back when he pulls back to trace deliciously tortuous circles around your clit.

Like they have a mind of their own, your hands grasp his golden hair, holding him still as he presses more firmly against your nub. You thrust against him, unable to help yourself as you chase your release.

Thor brings his hands back down, hooking them against the fold of your legs and pelvis, shaking his head from side to side as he follows your enthusiastic lead.

The lurid sounds of his mouth devouring you push you over the edge and you buck against him as heat rushes from your core up into the rest of your body to bathe you in ecstasy.

As it spreads, you go numb to anything other than the buzz of your climax.

Thor traces kisses along your thighs, kissing up to your hips, stomach--where you flinch from the unexpected touch--between your breasts and finally your lips.

The taste of you on him is intoxicating. The satisfaction that makes him moan against your lips seduces you again, bringing your legs up against his hips as you spread yourself wide for him.

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, unable to find the volume to do more than gasp at him.

Thor kisses you hard, mouth open wide as he tongues your mouth, exploring the soft heated wetness of your tongue.

With one hand he reaches between your bodies and in one smooth push, he’s got his cock all the way in.

He groans loudly. You moan with him.

“Oh, fuck…”

You’re lost in his body again, the sturdy weight of him pressing you into your bed.

He thrusts into you slowly at first, feeling every twitch of your cunt as you take him.

But with your breathy moans, his excitement grows and his soft thrusts turn into hard pumps.

“Faster, Thor,” you beg.

He throws himself behind you, lifting your leg to wrap it around his waist as he pulls your back against his chest. One hand he uses to massage your breast while the other he uses to hold your leg up to keep you open wide.

You throw your head back, searching for him and he kisses you messily, all tongues and gasping moans.

His cock slides in and out of you smoothly, his pelvis slapping against your ass with a quick rhythm.

“Thor,” you warn, your body pushing towards your second climax.

He buries his face against your neck, lips latching on in a lazy kiss as his focus has shot down to his cock.

Holding your body as still as he possibly can without hurting you, he fucks you quickly, bringing his free hand down to press and flick your clit as he chases his own fix.

He grunts. It’s a growl of exertion.

Your breathing is labored. A pant as you cry out for release.

Thor comes first, biting down on your neck with surprising control while his hips stutter and he shoots his hot seed deep within you.

His hand is relentless as it works you and only a moment later, your toes curl. You lose your breath, a sharp cry of ecstasy piercing the sex haze as your body is overcome.

Thor overworks you, stretching your orgasm for as long as he can while your body twitches within his arms as he waits for you to be more pliable.

As your toes uncurl, Thor’s fingers slowly stop. He traces your side, grasping your breasts to squeeze with lusty admiration as both your bodies come down from their high.

“That’s what I call, a good morning,” Thor says breathlessly.

You chuckle, exhausted and as you shut your eyes, you begin to drift back to sleep.

Thor notices, pushing himself up to press a kiss to your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your cheek.

“Wake up, love,” he urges you. “We have appointments to keep this morning.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to just stay here in bed and do nothing all day but this over and over.

Thor laughs.

“I know, cherub. Should we call in sick?” he asks, half-serious.

“Ugh, no,” you sigh. “I have to go down to the park. And I have a meeting with the ambassadors at one.”

“What do they want?” Thor asks, wary of the Earth ambassadors because of their previous stance on getting Thor married to someone from Earth without an ounce of care as to who, so long as it was quickly.

“They want a report on our baby making progress.”

Thor sighs.

“Will you tell them about this morning? Should we have just made a video?”

You understand his frustration. You’re pretty tired of having your lack of a baby thrown in your face. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep telling them that you and Thor are trying and that when you have news, you’ll let them know.

“You just want a video for yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work. “I hate that they call you for this. As if their meddling will help anything. I know it stresses you.”

Slowly, you turn to face him, hands pressed against his cheeks.

“I’m okay, puppy,” you promise him. “I’ll make sure to tell them today that they can’t call me for this anymore.”

“Will they listen?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But maybe if I tell them that they’re stressing me out with all of these progress meetings and that it might be hindering any possibility of conception they’ll leave me alone.”

“Is that possible?” Thor worries, propping himself up on his elbow as his hand gently strokes your lower belly.

“It is possible for stress to make having a baby harder. That’s why I thought that maybe we should take a break from trying but…”

Thor’s lips curl up into a smirk, “There is no way I am letting you take this perfection away from me.”

His hand gives your torso a once over before coming back to rest on your lower belly.

With a laugh, you nod.

“I know. I feel the same way. I think we should just stop thinking of it as a way to have a baby and just...do what we just did. Enjoy ourselves.”

“What we just did was more than enjoy ourselves,” Thor disagrees. “That was worship.”

“Then we’ll keep worshiping each other. Over and over and over and over-”

“Mmmm,” Thor wiggles his eyebrows at you and you laugh as he leans down to kiss your lips.

Your stomach suddenly growls.

“Now that I’ve had my breakfast,” Thor says, turning and getting to his feet. “Let’s get some for you.”

As you sit up, he tosses his t-shirt back at you and you slip it over your head quickly.

Thor moves to the door and pulls it open, nonchalantly peeking outside.

“Ah, Estrid, you’re still here. Good. Her Majesty would like some breakfast, please.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” you hear Estrid say and your cheeks burn with the realization that Estrid literally just stood outside the doors of your bedroom, listening to Thor fuck you senseless.

As Thor shuts the door, he catches your bashful expression and laughs.

“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t the first time she’s heard us, cherub. No need for embarrassment.”

“I was so loud,” you whimper.

“A point of pride for me, I assure you.”

You bite your lip and Thor shakes his head.

“Shall we make some more noises for Estrid to overhear when she comes back with our food?”

Like a switch, you’re smiling, crawling away from Thor as quickly as you can across his massive bed.

You get only inches before his large hand closes around your ankle and he’s yanking you back to him.

“Come, let me have seconds,” he teases and you laugh as he pounces.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time has a way of getting away from you.

Your days become routine in New Asgard. More than they were before Tony, Bruce, and Jane showed up.

The security setup for the palace takes a long time. Bruce stays the entire month, but Tony goes home to Pepper every week for the weekend.

Jane is a constant presence in your daily life. Despite this, she doesn’t talk to you. Not often.

You tried a couple times to build some kind of rapport with her, but she’s resistant and you give up after the first week of her stay.

If she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, then you won’t force your friendship on her.

She’s not evil. It’s not like she’s mean to you or outright ignoring you. She returns your greeting in the morning and at night your goodbye, but otherwise she makes no attempt to talk to you.

Thor doesn’t see it. Then again, he’s hardly ever with both of you at the same time.

His meetings with Jane take place everyday after lunch. You’re busy with the city park’s construction so you’re left out of their meetups. This doesn’t worry you.

Thor always gives you a breakdown of what Jane reports to him and you trust him. There isn’t an inch in your heart that believes anything funny is going on. Thor gives you no reason to doubt him.

Loki makes regular visits to the observation stations that the Warriors Three and Sif are tasked with watching and he keeps you and Thor informed. As of now though, there’s nothing to inform you of.

“Nothing’s changed,” Loki assures you both as you lounge in the small sitting room just down the hall from the dining room you, Thor, Loki, and your guests always eat in.

“Do you still feel it? The thing we’re keeping an eye out for?” you ask him, putting your book down on the small coffee table in front of you.

“Oh, yes,” Loki nods. “Whatever it is, is still coming.”

“What’s taking it so long?” you wonder, frustrated with all the suspense.

“Lack of power?” Thor wonders aloud, standing at the wide window that looks out to the sea.

He’s got his thinking cap on.

“No,” Loki shakes his head, pulling down on the dark jade silk he’s wearing over a perfectly ironed white button up.

He’s the complete opposite of Thor in dress who’s taken to wearing a pair of dark jeans and various styles of casual tops from t-shirts to long sleeves that he pushes up to his elbows.

“No, I don’t think power is the problem. It feels more like strategic planning. Whatever they’re waiting for, hasn’t happened yet.”

Loki moves towards you, holds out his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Almost as if on cue, Bruce suddenly pokes his head in through the open doorway, “Hey.”

“Hi, Bruce,” you greet, suddenly realizing what time it is.

“Lunch?” he asks, eager for a meal.

He’s always starving after he’s been cooped up in the basement security room all morning.

“Lunch,” you agree. “Thor?”

“Hm?” Thor turns towards you, your arm already hooked on Loki’s elbow.

“Coming? It’s lunch time,” you inform him.

“Right, of course,” he smiles at you then moves to take you from Loki who gladly releases you to Thor who guides your arm around his own elbow.

Lunch is uneventful. The same as it always is.

The food is delicious and the meal is hearty.

Thor devours his lamb, Loki nibbles.

Thor sits at the head of the table and you sit beside him, where he likes you to be. Loki across from you. Jane and Bruce sit at the opposite end of the table and anyone else who happens to be around takes up the remaining seats.

Seeing as today is Saturday, Tony is not in his usual spot across from Bruce.

As you sit beside Thor, he reaches over to take your hand, shoveling his food into his mouth with one hand while you also try and fail to cut your lamb with one hand.

You sigh and then laugh, finally pulling Thor out of his thoughts.

“What is it?” he looks around to see if anyone has said a joke, but you’re the only one not focused on anyone but him.

“I need my hand,” you explain, and smile.

“Oh, sorry,” Thor says.

He lets you go but his hand dives down underneath the table to take gentle hold of your thigh.

This touch doesn’t surprise you. You’ve gotten used to Thor’s need to touch you. It’s not overt, usually. Not like he has to be draped around you. He just likes to feel you close.

A hand along your back, fingers tickling the small hairs on the back of your head, your hand held gently, or like now, a hand gently squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

You chuckle as you cut your meat, putting a forkful into your mouth. As you chew, Thor stares at you, smiling softly at your amusement.

“Have I been monopolizing you?” he wonders.

“A little,” you admit. “But I like it. I like when you touch me.”

“I like touching you,” he admits.

“Mmm,” you wiggle your eyebrows once and place your elbow on the table to lean towards him as if you’re about to whisper a secret. “What kind of touches?”

Thor clears his throat, swallows hard, and licks his lips as he tries to guess your mood.

“All kinds,” he whispers for you, leaning in closer.

“Even the ones that make me wiggle?”

“Especially the ones that make you wiggle,” Thor replies adamantly. 

You chuckle and he smiles wide, leaning the rest of the way to indicate he wants a kiss.

Putting your fork down, you reach over to his ear and pull him towards you. You angle his head a little more so that you can kiss him easily and both of you laugh a little as your lips meet.

He pulls back once, then leans back in to give you a peck. Then another. And another. And another. For half a minute, he simply gives you as many smooches as he can while Loki purposely avoids looking at your display.

“I love you,” Thor whispers to you, making your heart leap in your chest and take off like a racehorse as butterflies fill your tummy.

A scraping chair pulls both your attention to the opposite end of the table.

Jane stands, moving around her seat and then pushing it in.

“Well, as delicious as that was, I’ve gotta get back to the tower. There’s supposed to be some sort of midday aurora or something? I don’t want to miss it.

“Thor? Are we still on for two o’clock?”

“Of course,” Thor nods, smiling at her. “See you at two."

She leaves the dining room, every pair of eyes on her departure but you find that only Loki’s brow is crinkled with curiosity.

After lunch, you and Thor retreat to his office, the last room on your floor.

Well, it’s your office too now. After Thor’s wish that you wouldn’t make any kind of office for yourself too far from where he might see you, he’d bought you a sizable desk and bookshelf and had them installed in his office on the wall opposite his own desk.

It’s still a fairly large room so there’s plenty of space for both of you to move around and do what you need to.

Today, you’ve chosen to take a break and grab a novel from your shelf that you’ve been meaning to read.

After sitting at your desk for a chapter, you get up and move towards Thor’s desk where he’s sitting pouring over paperwork. You reach out, nose still in your book, and turn his swivel chair a little so that you can sit on his lap.

Thor doesn’t even look up from his work as he spreads his legs a little wider to offer you one of his massive thighs, and an outstretched arm ready to wrap around your waist once you’re settled.

He gives you a gentle squeeze once you’re in his arms but otherwise neither of you make a fuss.

You’re allowed only about thirty minutes of peace before a knock on the office doors pull both your gazes up.

“Come in,” Thor says, hand relaxed on the small stack of paperwork he’s been reading through.

The door creaks open and large brown eyes peek through.

“Jane?” Thor worries, looking at the small clock on his desk which tells him that she’s half an hour early and she also never comes to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry to bother you both,” Jane says which already sounds odd seeing as she hardly ever includes you in anything. “But I have something I need to show you, Thor.”

“Of course,” he nods, and you’re already getting up off of his lap. “I’ll come see you later, cherub.”

He leans down and kisses you but guides you to sit in his seat, which you do.

You watch him go, shutting the door behind him as Jane leads him off, stealing a precious half hour from you.

Disappointed, you sigh and shut your book. There’s no way you’ll be able to concentrate now.

Luckily, you’re spared having to find something new to do by a second knock on the door.

“Come in,” you say with another sigh.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid looks towards your desk but when she doesn’t see you at your desk, her eyes search the room.

“What’s the matter, Estrid?”

“Oh,” she smiles when she spots you. “‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty.”

Her reminder hits you like a bolt of lightning and you get up as quickly as you can.

“I keep forgetting!” you complain to yourself but with Estrid hot on your heels you hurry down the hall to your bedroom where inside you find Dr. Wilson and Doctor Alric waiting at the small breakfast table.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wilson? Dr. Alric?” you stop a few feet from them as the curtsy and bow respectively.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” they greet.

“Another blood test today?” you ask, already rolling up the sleeve of the oversized sweater you’d chosen this morning.

“Actually,” Dr. Alric begins. “There will be no need for a blood test today, Your Majesty.”

“What? But I thought-?”

“You’re pregnant, Your Majesty,” Dr. Wilson says, no prompting or lead up.

She just says it, and you freeze.

With wide eyes you look from doctor to doctor completely confused by what it seems their saying.

Do you dare hope that you heard them correctly?!

“I’m what?”

“You’re with child, m’am,” Dr. Alric assures you. “Dr. Wilson and I were finally able to find a way to test your blood for an Asgardian and human mixed child. Since our genetic makeups are so different, it took a bit of creativity and-”

Dr. Wilson reaches out to place her hand on Dr. Alric’s forearm, “We won’t bore you with the medicine behind it, but we tested as far back as we could with the samples of your blood that we kept just in case we managed to find a way to get a conclusive result and you’re about three months. A little less. You will have conceived just after your marriage. Perhaps on your honeymoon?”

Slowly you start to understand what they’re saying and a smile begins to spread across your face.

Can it be true?

“I’m really pregnant?” you check again, because you’ve wanted it for so long.

“Yes,” Dr. Wilson smiles at you. “It’ll be just a tiny swell right now. You might not even notice the change yet.”

“I’m pregnant!” you gasp, laughing as you press your hands to your cheeks.

Your doctors laugh.

Instinctively, you want to run to Thor and tell him. You want to call David and celebrate with him. You want to shout it from the rooftop of the palace so that Earth’s ambassadors will hear and finally leave you alone!

“There are a few things we’d like to go over with you. A diet and some medications to ensure the health and safety of both you and the baby,” Dr. Wilson explains.

“Dr. Wilson will cover the human side of the heir, and I shall employ a brief idea as to what I think might assist in maintaining the child’s Asgardian side.”

This reality check is just what you need and you move to take a seat with them, eager to learn and even more so to get to Thor and tell him that you’ve both been worrying for months when he’d already gotten the job done a long time ago.

You end up taking notes on everything that Dr. Wilson and Dr. Alric tell you. It’s a lot of information, instruction, and advice that you will never remember if you don’t put it down somewhere.

Time passes quickly and slowly at the same time but once they’re done with you, you see them off and then race back to the office to see if Thor’s meeting with Jane has finished.

Although it’s been nearly an hour and a half since he left you, he’s not returned to the office so you call for Estrid but take a peek out towards the tower instead.

You don’t see them out there and are almost set to go look for him up there yourself when Estrid comes.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, everything is wonderful Estrid. Do you know where Thor is?” you ask eagerly.

“I believe His Majesty is in his war room with Prince Loki, m’am.”

“Thank you, Estrid!” you zoom past her, unable to contain your excitement.

It feels like you’re literally flying down the halls as you make your way to your husband.

Your body is absolutely vibrating with glee. You’re weightless. Ecstatic. You’re so relieved that you’re not a failure. That you were able to give Thor and his people what they want more than anything else in the world. A future!

A beacon of hope. An assurance that the people of New Asgard will always have a place here on Earth. An heir.

As you reach the war room door, you see that it’s cracked open, Thor and Loki’s familiar voices spilling out from within.

You reach out for the handle.

“What did she say, Thor?!” Loki is demanding.

There’s something off about his tone.

Somewhere deep in your heart, fear strikes a cord. Panic. The weightless feeling your news has given you turns into numbness as your body recognizes danger before you do.

“She said she’s with child,” Thor spits, angry, frustrated, absolutely out of his mind with grief? “Jane said that she’s pregnant with my child.”

What?!

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 ?

Imagine: He asks you what you'd like for Christmas and you take it up a notch since he asked.

Pairings: Human!Elijah x Human!Reader

Warnings: Smut and a sweet family moment.

A/N: Hey guys! I just wanted to apologise in advance because this ended up being a lot longer than anticipated because I got a bit carried away and added the sweetest little family moment at the end anyway no more spoilers but enjoy!!

I had just unlocked the door to Mine and Elijah's apartment, where I had just got some a sexy Christmas outfit for Elijah's Christmas present, since he said I was enough and that he didn't want anything. I thought I'd give him me.

I was just finishing my hair, when I heard the front door open and close, that meant Elijah was home and just in time. He decided to be nice this Christmas and give Klaus and lift home since he got hammered at Rousseau's for Christmas and why not. 

“Beautiful ? I'm back.”

“Okay baby, just wait in the living room. I'll be out in a second.”

“Okay sweetheart.”

I smiled at the terms of endearment, it's a usual thing but I love it so very much. I get Goosebumps and start to blush whenever he says things like 'beautiful' or 'sweetheart'. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled, I know he's going to love it. He always likes it when I dress up just for him.

I opened the bedroom door and stepped out, before walking towards Elijah and standing in front of his chair that he was sat in.

“Happy Christmas, Handsome.”

He gaped for a second and then closed his mouth regained his usual posture and smirked. His hands reached out to grab the diaphanous fabric of the lingerie I was wearing and muttered under his breath.

“Happy Christmas indeed. Wow....I feel terrible I didn't at least get dressed up for you.”

“No, it's okay. Don't worry about it.”

“No it's not. Tell me what you for christmas.”

“Santa ? Is that you ?”

He chuckled and I kept my act up and sat on his knee whilst his arm wrapped around my waist and his other hand rested on my knee.

“It is indeed. What would you like for Christmas this year ?”

“I've been thinking very hard about this Santa because I really don't want anything except one thing. So I would really appreciate it if you have it too me....”

“It better be a good thing to ask for because that was a hell of a build up...”

“I promise it is....”

“Well then, what would you like ?”

“I would like you to fuck me hard. Please.”

I looked at him lustfully and he returned the gesture. Before pulling both my legs and wrapping them around him, making my heels rest on his back. We were inches apart and very desperate to make good on my wish.

“As you wish, my beautiful.”

We grinned at eachother and kissed eachother roughly, passionately....lustfully. I'd never been so turned on as I was then in my life. He was about the rip the lingerie off of me but luckily I stopped him before he could.

“Wait, I spent too much on this for you to rip it straight away. At least let it get 2 wears in.”

“Fine.”

He left it on instead, luckily for us both, there was no bottom half to it. The lingerie was a just a transculent dress really. He pulled the cups of the dress under my breasts so they could breathe however they were immediately suffocated once again, only this time on the sweet mouth of Elijah Mikaelson. His tounge encircled each nipple, one by one and discharged a quiet moan from me.

I clutched at the nape of his neck and began to rub myself against his hard on immediately. He let out a small groan and tightened the grip he had on my nipple with his mouth, which inspired a slight screech from myself. I ripped the belt off of him and I threw it behind him to an empty space by the tree. I continued to rip his clothes off and one of the articles of clothing hit the tree and disturbed us because a bauble had smashed on the floor. We pulled away and started giggling at eachother and we're also incredibly out of breathe. He slipped his boxers off and I immediately blushed.

Everytime I saw how much I affected him, I blushed and I thought it was such an awkward thing to do. I had expressed how I felt about it before to Elijah but he reassured me that he very much adored it but I still feel that tiniest bit awkward. 

I still continued to rest my body on my knees and wrap my lips around his cock, he threw is head back and groaned before he forced himself to pull me off of him and stood up and made me sit down in the chair before kneeling down and lining himself up with my entrance. The action made me bite my lip in anticipation and my lip almost flew out of my mouth as soon as he thrust into me.

My hands gripped the arms of the chair and he consistenly thrusted into me at a slow pace. I stretched around him and his hips slapped against the back of my thighs and he deepened himself further inside of me. It was a tantinisingly slow pace but I knew he was making it last though.

It's not often that we get to just have sex without arranging it. The kids were staying with Rebekah and Marcel for the night and we were going to have a quiet night alone. We often have to plan we have sex though, which makes it less special and it's not even the kids we have to arrange it around...it’s also Klaus. He's incompetent without Elijah with him, I swear he has separation anxiety. I do feel bad for him though since Hayley doesn't like him seeing Hope alone because she's worried he's constantly drunk. He just missed Camille and has just attended the wedding of the love of his life and someone he saw as a brother to him.

Elijah gripped my legs, leaving handprints embroidered in my skins. He pulled out suddenly and flipped me around on the chair. I gripped the back of the chair and my knees sunk into the fabric of the bottom cushion. His large hands stroked my hips tightly before getting down on his own knees and licking and kissing my entrance, earning a few sweet moans to erupt from my throat. Not long after, he sprung back up and stroked my clit with the tip of his cock before suddenly thrusting straight into my entrance which caused a loud moan to echo around us. One of my hands gripped the arm and one gripped the back of the chair, as his pace quickened and he created slapping sounds between our bodies. He kept rocking his hips back and force at a never ending pace. Groans emitting from his body aswell and his hands founding the best grip on my hips. I started to tighten around him and not longer, I came all around him. 

He pulled me to stand up after I came and sat down himself before gently pulling my hand and prompting me to sit on his lap. He positioned himself at my entrance as I was still a bit shaky from my release. I sat down on him slowly whilst letting out a long breathy moan. His hands found my hips again and mine gripped his shoulders. I was too overstimulated to keep moving, so he moved my hips up and down on his lap so he could reach his orgasm. He started throbbing, stimulating me more and more until we both released all over eachother, making a mess. His juices were running down my thighs and dripping down his cock, falling onto his stomach. Mine, combining with his...again running down my thighs and drenching his now flaccid cock.

I carefully removed myself off of him, to grab a warm towel to clean us up with. The sheer material of my dress, tickling my legs as I walked. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself. I knew I wasn't ugly but damn do I look good after sex. Although it never feels like just sex when it's with Elijah, it feels like pure, physical luck. I always feel like the luckiest women in the world...not forgetting the best looked after cause wow is he godly in physical act of love, for lack of more appropriate words. I walked back in after finishing cleaning myself up and handed him a cloth too, before giving him a kiss and going to run a bath.

“Hey Lijah handsome, I'm gonna run a bath do you wanna get in with me in a sec ?”

“I would love too, beautiful.”

He just finished and stopped in the doorway to our bedroom and turned to him.

“Can you b-"

He cut me off.

“Yes, I will get the wine. Give me a second sweetheart.”

I giggled and walked off. He walked into the bathroom, seeing me already in the bath. Surrounded by candles and and the sweet aroma of the Christmas candle burning, that smelt like cinnamon, hot wine, vanilla, ginger, orange,honey and chocolate. Just a warm, inviting smell to relax too on Christmas day. He got in and poured some white wine he had delivered, along with himself.

“Here we go beautiful.”

I grabbed the glass he handed me and we spent the whole bath talking about nice thing like: the kids, new years eve and complimenting eachother. After about 45 minutes, the water started to go cold so we decided to get out and get into some more comfortable clothes and tidy up a bit. We started to relax by sitting on the sofa and throwing a blanket on top of us whilst watching ‘It’s a wonderful life'...and let me tell you it most certainly is. We were just about to go make some hot cocoa when there was a knock on the door, confusing us both. We glanced at eachother in wonder and when I opened the door, Rebekah and the kids were standing there. I smiled at them as they ran in to say hi to their dad. I turned to Rebekah.

“I’m sorry, I know I promised I'd have them for the night but they wouldn't go to sleep unless Marcel read them a book or your and Elijah were there, but Marcel passed out whilst we were watching a film. I really wanted you and Elijah to have a night to yourselves and I really tried bu-”

I chuckled at her and held my hand up.

“Rebekah, it's fine we don't mind. Honestly, I was missing having the kids here anyway and we were just about to make hot cocoa anyway. Calm yourself down and go to sleep, you look exhausted.”

“Thankyou Y/N, I owe you one !”

“No you don't!”

I closed the door, to see the kids sat with their dad watching home alone. I smiled at the view, this is why I'm lucky to have Elijah.

OUTFIT

MASTERLIST