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fanfictionloversss · 2 years ago

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a dangerous line

MY MASTERLIST

pairing(s): Eros | Starfox (MCU) x fem!reader

summary: You had the audacity to call out the God of Sex on the one wild summer he had in 1580 BCE. How's that working out for you?

words: 3.3k

tags: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, telepathic sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, descriptions of subspace, brat taming, mcu eros is a pleasure dom i said what i said, biting, mild hurt/comfort, aftercare, innacurate descriptions of greek myths

If you are a minor don't look at this, don't interact with it, don't share it in any way or I Will Block You.

additional notes: no i have not seen eternals. no i have not read a single eternals comic. but you know what i did do? i watched the 30 second mid-credits scene with harry styles in it, and i know what i am. i am a slut for harry bro

marvel stans don't come for me i read four wiki articles on starfox and the eternals and came to the conclusion that i'm just never going to understand anything

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

“So… the God of Sex is a superhero now?”

There’s a long silence, sandwiched between the distant clanking and humming of the spaceship you find yourself on, as you stare at the Titan who has his back to you. Eros’ suit is remarkably form fitting and, when he takes the dumbass cape off, you can pick out the lean muscles of his back beneath what you assumed at first glance to be some kind of polymer, but then again, it’s most likely some unearthly material that could deflect bullets.

Slowly, Eros turns in his seat to look at you with his brows drawn in startled confusion. Fair enough, it is the first thing you’ve said since being left alone in the hull with him as the rest of your group retired for the night. Well, the closest thing to night as there is in space; it’s not like there’s any natural light to keep your internal clock on track.

His profile is severe, but not exactly in a way that makes him frightening. It’s more like he’s severely pretty, with a broad, straight nose and jade colored eyes that flash with a kind of ancient power you can’t wrap your mind around. His lips seem to be permanently curled up at the edges, like he’s constantly aware of a joke that you’re not privy to. Thena had muttered a warning to you before you had boarded his vessel together; something along the lines of, “He is not to be trusted, it would be best if you kept your distance.”

Sure. No problem.

“Would you rather I went the way of my brother?” Eros says after a pause. There isn’t any sarcasm in his question, just genuine curiosity, like he’s trying to figure out what the human take on all this celestial mayhem is.

You contemplate your words before telling him, “There’s not much more damage that can be done, honestly.” You could leave it at that, but then your ego gets the better of you. “I just think it’s a strange gig for a literal God. And Starfox is a shit superhero name.”

You think you imagine it, but you could swear he sucks on his teeth for half a second, as he turns his head a bit to the left and a lock of dark hair falls across his brow. “I didn’t choose the name. And I am a Titan, not a God.”

“Same thing.”

“They are absolutely not the same thing,” he says wearily, turning back to the task he had been working on. The screen before him glows purple and is filled with an assortment of symbols you can’t possibly recognize, and you don’t have the patience to try to decipher what in the blazes he’s trying to do, but something deep within the machine whirrs excitedly. “Don’t humans have to rest for a period each day?”

“If that’s your way of telling me I should go to sleep, I’m not tired.” That’s a fucking lie; you’re exhausted, but you’re more intrigued with the fact that you’re pushing his buttons. “So if you’re not a god, then the myth of Eros and Psyche… that’s not true, huh?”

“The what?” Eros keeps his tone dismissive, but you can see the way his head perks up a bit at the mention of it.

You tilt your head as you try to remember the entire story, but only major points remain in your memory. “Oh, you know. The God of passionate love, Eros, shot himself with one of his own arrows and fell in love with a human named Psyche, but he couldn't show her his face, or she would know that he was a God. So he stole into her window at night to make love to her, making her promise not to try to glimpse his face for fear that they would be discovered. But one night her curiosity got the best of her, and she looked upon his face while he slept. Then they were separated, and after a number of trials in order to win him back, she was eventually turned into a deity, and they could remain together. Et cetera.”

“That’s a very romantic way of putting it,” he says bluntly.

“So it is true,” you return with a self-aggrandizing grin, folding your arms and leaning up against the cold steel wall behind you.

“In so many words.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, and even more, he refuses to face you as he speaks. “I enjoyed a period of indiscretions, a few millennia ago.”

“Somehow, that sounds rather disconcerting.”

He sighs. His fingers tap the console in front of him, like he's running out of patience, but he still bitterly accommodates you. “I told Psyche that it would only work between us if she told no one about it. The humans were religious zealots then, and I didn't need her talking about surviving sex with a God. Where I come from, there are rules about interfering with primitive civilizations. But she did anyway. And now I carry around this cute story about true love and the veneration of a human girl.”

"You forgot the magic arrows."

You sit up a bit straighter as he swings around to face you, his eyes seeming to glow from the inside out, and your heart lurches up into your throat with how quickly the image of it effects you. Oh.

He stares at you for a few seconds like that, as your heart thumps in your chest so loudly that you think he can probably hear it. It surprises you how quickly your body switches through emotions, and just when you realize that you're a little bit too attracted to his sudden display of power than you'd care to admit, he remembers himself.

The flames die down to embers, and his eyes flick over you, still stern, but not unkind. “Believe me, it was vastly more sordid than that.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air between you, and every fibre of your being is telling you to leave it, don’t say any more, just let him be with his regret and his history and his indomitable power, the scope of which you have yet to witness for yourself. If he’s a prince, and he’s a war hero, and he’s renowned across galaxies for his strength, you��d be smart to steer clear of it.

You’d be smart to heed Thena’s warning. But sometimes, you’re just a little too curious for your own good.

You shift in your seat under his piercing stare, feeling like you’re suddenly toeing a dangerous line. But damn if you don't just... want him. Despite his temperament, and despite the warning. He stares at you like he knows what you're feeling, but he has no intention of being the first to say it.

You clear your throat quite suddenly, probably appearing as fragile and stupid as you feel. “So, what did you do? I mean, if it really was as sordid as you say it was.”

Eros gazes at you shrewdly, looking like he’s trying to pick apart your soul with how intense the light in his eyes is. Then, ever-so-slowly, that knowing smirk curls at the edge of his mouth again, and his cocky demeanor returns with a vengeance. “I can give you a demonstration, if you’d like.”

A dangerous line, indeed.

“I- fuck- thought you said this was illegal.”

“Mm. I don’t think you were paying close enough attention. I said no such thing.”

You had been thoroughly confused when he brought you to his chamber, and simply sat in a chair across the room, not even looking at the bed, and told you to undress. But now you understand. You also understand how he could, theoretically, hide his identity during sex.

Eros hasn’t even touched you yet, but you’ve been convulsing on his bed like a demon for what feels like an eternity now. How many has it been; six?- no- seven orgasms that you’ve had? You’re not sure at this point. The waves of pleasure rolling through your body are now starting to bleed into each other, turning into a consistent hum of electricity that’s slowly making your mind go blank.

And he’s just staring at you, his glowing eyes the only physical evidence that what is happening to you is his doing. He rests his chin in his hand, admiring the way your naked body shakes and glistens with a fine sheen of perspiration as another blast of pleasure overtakes your senses.

“Oh god-” You claw at the sheets beneath you for some sort of grasp on reality, but nothing about this feels like it has any basis in it.

“Still not a god,” he insists, his voice like velvet. “But I do love to hear you say it. Noisy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, and through the ice in your veins you can still feel an intense, burning desire for him that won’t be quelled, no matter how many times he makes you come just with his mind. You don’t know why you want him so badly, why it turns you on even more that he seems so unaffected as he takes in the rise and fall of your breasts, the quiver of your legs, and the frankly embarrassing amount of slick that drips from your aching cunt. You might even think that it was him putting that need in your head, but somehow, you know that it isn’t. It’s just you.

“How many more until you get over here and fuck me, already?” you ask him through gritted teeth as you feel the onset of another orgasm, riding on the outer edges of the last.

“As many as it takes,” he says mildly.

“For what?”

Eros smiles. “For me to break you.”

You drop your head back against the sheets still fighting to hold on. To what, you don’t know. “Is this some kind of punishment?” you ask, your breath coming out in short bursts.

“Do you think you deserve one?” is his only reply before your own cries drown everything else out.

Two. That’s how many more it takes before he gives you a bit of respite, once he feels he’s sufficiently broken you. And you suppose that he has, when you lay motionless on the sweat-damp sheets beneath you and can’t find it within yourself to conjure up a coherent sentence.

Eros looms on the edge of your awareness like a spectre. His voice is like the lull before sleep and his touch on the side of your face is as soft as the brush of a feather. “Can you still handle me, sweet?”

You hum something vaguely affirmative, but when it occurs to you that he’s waiting for something a bit more articulate than that, you take a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes.”

You hear him laugh quietly, and you open your eyes to find his lingering in the air above yours. They’re back to that pale jade color, but they’re no less beautiful than they had been when showcasing his raw power. His armor is gone, and all that remains is his naked skin, the expanse of his chest and the broad line of his shoulders as he leans over you. Not entirely above you, no- he wouldn’t give you everything you wanted right away.

“Good girl,” Eros murmurs as his fingers glide over your skin, down the line of your torso to dip between your parted thighs. “I can see why they keep you away from me. You’re so strong.”

It’s difficult to focus on his words when he’s working his fingers into you like that, building you up again so quickly just to knock you flat down. Like a toy he can’t stop playing with, he holds you here and pulls another orgasm from your sensitive body, just to watch in amusement as it shatters across your features and coats his hand in your need.

“And so responsive,” he adds, like an afterthought. This time you don’t open your eyes to look at him, a bit too mindless to give him anything but a quiet whimper, and you reach blindly for him.

Eros chuckles, and you faintly register that the sound of it is much closer than the last, before he surprises you yet again by kissing you. His lips mould softly over yours, and he lets you guide him for once, as your hands urge him towards the space between your legs.

He rests there against you, taunting you with how close you have him, and yet not close enough for your liking. Your hands squeeze his arms and his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh they find there, but you’re sure they aren’t leaving a mark. He snickers against your lips, then kisses his way along your jaw and toward your ear as you try to buck your hips up against his.

“Slow down,” he whispers, and grinds his hips harder against yours, until you relent and loosen your grip on his shoulder. “I’m giving you everything that you deserve, sweet thing.”

You aren’t entirely sure if you deserve it, but you can’t argue too much when the literal God of Sex is whispering in your ear.

Or, the Not-God of Sex? Titan of Sex? You’ll have to ask him exactly what his title is once you’re done here.

“JesusChristyou’resobig,” is the first coherent thing you manage out when he pushes into you, and you rake your nails down his back as you fight the urge to squirm beneath him.

Eros’ laugh rumbles through his chest and vibrates on your skin where his lips graze your jaw. “Thank you, darling, I was entirely unaware.”

He waits until you’ve relaxed against him before he moves, but it makes it no less intense for you when he does. You’re still so sensitive, and your body takes him in so willingly that you think everything before this was just some bizarre form of foreplay, to get you ready for him. He moves slowly, methodically, ensuring that you feel every bit of him within you. Every inch.

His lips are parted with his hiss of breath, his hands firm on your thigh and digging deep into the mattress beside your head, and although his eyes are void of the magic and power they held before, they scorch you. Framed by dark lashes that flutter when he moves, and so dilated that you know for a fact that he likes this.

You think maybe it’s a bit late to worry about whether or not the others can hear you scream, but you can’t help that nagging thought when he hits something so devastating within you that both of your legs fly to wrap around his waist, your chest arching up against his.

Eros draws in a sharp breath, his hand tightening almost painfully on your thigh, hinting at some amount of inhuman strength that he’s keeping at bay. As if sensing your very thought, his quiet voice grabs your attention again, just at the very edges of madness. “You have no idea how careful I have to be with you. How soft you are.”

You shudder against him as he groans, dipping his head to mouth at the junction of your shoulder and neck, so much like a normal lover, and yet. His hand finds yours, where your nails continue to war against his skin in an attempt to leave even a scratch, and he slams it up above your head into the mattress, weaving his fingers through yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt out without thinking, and only then does the idiocy of what you just said hit you. He doesn’t give you a chance to regret it, though, as you feel him smile against your skin and bite down just as he snaps his hips perfectly into yours yet again.

There’s no way to ignore any part of him when you come around him, because he’s a force to be reckoned with. He just keeps going, groaning against your skin as you cry out from the ferocity with which he drives into you. And just when you think it’s done, that you’re coming down, you see that flash of blue out of the corner of your eye, and the bastard makes you do it again, just so he can kiss you as you whimper into his mouth and pulse on his cock.

You suppose it’s no real shock that tears are sliding down your temples by the time he comes, squeezing your hand above your head as he moans against your lips. He plants his hips against yours like he wants to stay inside you as long as he physically can, and he kisses the tears from either side of your face as though it’s to be entirely expected.

When Eros releases the hand above your head, he not only kisses your palm, he gently places it back where he found it, on his shoulder. “You did so well for me, beautiful girl. I’m proud of you.”

You’re so overwhelmed by it all you could probably choke. Instead, you wrap your arms around him, clinging to him like a vice, and he lets you. He lets you pull him down against you, lets you rake your fingers through his hair and tuck your face against his neck so that you can breathe him in.

Eros waits until you’ve relaxed before he pulls back, and he strokes your thigh tenderly before he says, “This might be a touch uncomfortable.”

“What-” you begin to say, but cut yourself off when he pulls out of you, leaving you achingly empty after relaxing so fully into how far he’d stretched you.

“I know,” he says quickly, and dips his head to deliver a swift and tender kiss to your breast. “You’re truly very strong. I wasn’t lying.”

He holds out his hand, and a cloth seemingly appears out of midair and surges into his hand before you can intellectualize where the hell it came from. You pause, face burning as he delicately wipes down your inner thighs and presses the soft fabric carefully to your sore cunt, seemingly conjuring up an unearthly amount of tenderness as well.

You realize that it only makes sense that Eros would be the perfect lover. When it comes to the act of sex, that is. And the immediate aftermath.

“What happened to her?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and he gives you a startled look, like he fully expected you to be completely incoherent. “After she spoke about it. If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

His tongue traces a line across his lower lip, as he looks like he’s more worried you might get scared off than anything. “In the end, they sacrificed her. They said she was, ‘Claimed by the Gods.’” Eros shakes his head slowly, still carefully tending to your sensitive skin. “It was a true shame. Psyche was a lovely girl.”

“And you?” He tilts his head at you like he doesn’t understand. “You said there were rules, where you come from.”

“Yes, well.” He gives a huff of a dismissive laugh, but there’s real sadness in his eyes. “I am a prince, so they couldn’t banish me eternally. But I was ostracized, for a few hundred years. Mere child’s play in comparison, wouldn’t you say?”

You press your lips into a thin line. Now, all his soreness about the myth makes sense. And you feel like a complete ass for having brought it up.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, taking his hand in yours. “I had no idea.”

He shakes his head with a forgiving smile. “How could you? The history of your world is so easily rewritten by the ones in power. I’m not surprised that you didn’t know.”

You nod, gnawing at your lip as you watch him clean himself off with the cloth and toss it aside.

When you hold out your arms to him, the way he crawls into them is so familiar, you have a hard time reminding yourself that he’s, supposedly, dangerous.

Supposedly.

More than likely.

You kiss his forehead, anyways. Eros smiles.

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