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mochie85 · 26 days ago

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When The Ball Drops

Summary: A continuation of "Have Mercy." Loki tries so hard to get you to kiss him again but you resist him. Until he comes up with a plan on New Year's Eve. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 3.5k Warnings: Fluff, kissing, cameos from multiple Avengers, the use of Y/N

It had been weeks since you saved Loki’s life and brought him back from his near-death experience. Or as Loki fondly likes to call it, “the time you asked him out on a date.” He was relentless with his flirtations towards you. He would seek you out at all hours, multiple times a day, just to wear you down.

One time he caught you by the kitchen pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “There you are, my angel.” He slid on the side of the counter, pulling up right next to you. “I have a headache. Do you think you could kiss it and make it all better?” he crooned so sweetly.

“No,” you answered him flatly and walked away, sipping your coffee.

Or, that time you were kickboxing with Sam. While Loki and Thor just happened to be training on the mat across from you. Thor had knocked him down with a single blow. Loki immediately cried to you from the floor. “Darling! My brother doesn’t seem to know the difference between practice and actual combat. Could you spare me a kiss so that I can continue and teach him a lesson?” He lay on the floor with his hair falling from the loose bun he kept it in. His arms spread apart, looking up at you through thick, long lashes.

“No, Loki!” You were so irritated that you took your fighting gloves off and threw them on the floor. Missing his head by an inch. Loki didn’t even flinch as he watched you storm off in anger. “Go to med-bay if you’re injured!”

“My angel,” Loki purred this morning after a team meeting. “I seem to have a paper cut on my finger. Can you-”

“No! Loki I will not kiss you!” you asserted, gathering your materials to get out of there quickly.

“I was going to suggest you lick it. But if that’s what you prefer, I’ll take it as a consolation prize,” he smiled and puckered his lips towards you. Your palms had never itched more, wanting to slap the kiss right off his mouth. You growled in frustration as you turned on your heel and walked out.

Loki heard light chuckles coming from the end of the large meeting table. Wilson and Barnes were shaking their heads, having watched the whole scene play out. “Is there something that you two find amusing?”

“Ya, man. You!” Wilson answered.

“I’m glad my shortcomings amuse you,” Loki answered with a slight upturn of his lip.

“Let me give you some advice,” Sam said walking over to him.

“Not warranted. Nor requested.”

“I’ma give it to you anyway.” Sam clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “You need to chill.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki said astounded.

“The more you push, the harder she resists,” Barnes interjected.

“Stop harassing her,” Sam continued.

“You, constantly being around her, reminding her of that kiss, is not gonna go well for you,” Barnes added.

“Are you saying that she regretted healing me?” Loki questioned.

“No,” they both answer in unison.

“Anyone can see that she was smitten with you from day one!” Sam declared.

“And she wouldn’t just kiss anybody. She offered to heal my arm once, though,” Barnes said to Wilson. “I wonder if she would’ve kissed me then?” He said introspectively, biting his lip in thought. Loki sneered at the notion.

“But she thinks that you’re just teasing her. That you’re not sincere with your feelings and you’re just looking for a way to provoke or annoy her.”

“I honestly don’t know how I can make it any clearer for her that I’m interested other than to ask her flat-out naked!”

“NO!” they both screamed again.

“Well, it would've worked on Asgard.” Loki pouted, crossing his arms as he sat on the ledge of the conference table.

“I’m sure it would’ve,” Sam nodded sarcastically. “Look, do you really like her?” Loki gave him a sardonic look, appalled that Wilson would even ask such a question.

“Then prove to her that you’re worthy of her affections. Wait for her to ask you. That way you’ll know she wants you too and not just because she’s trying to save your life.” At this last drop of wisdom, Barnes and Wilson left Loki in the conference room, pondering ways to prove his sincerity towards you.

You hurried towards your room, scenes from the last moments with Loki replaying in your mind. How could everything have gone tits up in just a couple of weeks?! You left the meeting today exhausted more than ever. You weren’t sure if it was misplaced gratitude for saving his life or if he genuinely is attracted to you but you didn’t think you could resist Loki anymore.

You know he’s just mocking you about what happened. He doesn’t have any real feelings towards you. It’s in his nature to be playful. But every time he comes anywhere near you and he puckers those lips of his, your knees buckle and you almost give in.

Screw it! If he wants to tease you so badly, maybe you could call his bluff and kiss him back. Perhaps then he’ll realize that his joke had gone way too far and he’d stop. Yes! The next time he teases you, you’ll kiss him right back.

But he never did. After weeks of trying to get under your skin, he finally relented. Morning coffee breaks were innocuous and pleasant. Sometimes, he would have a cup waiting for you, just the way you like it. No quips. No lewd gestures about kissing. Just a handsome smile and a friendly, helping hand.

There were times you would see him walk out of the training rooms with Thor, holding on to his side in pain. You were ready for him to make a quick jab about needing your kiss to heal the ache. But none ever came. Only a quick, “Hello, darling,” in passing as he limped off in the direction of med-bay. You’ve missed your chance.

Days later, holiday lights still glittered around the buildings of New York. Remnants of Christmas still decorated Fifth Avenue. The frigid air nipped at your cheeks making you hold on to your faux mink tighter.

Tony’s New Year’s Eve party was different this year. No celebrities. No politicians. Just the Avengers, along with the friends and family that loved them. He had rented the whole rooftop of the Marriott Marquis, overlooking Times Square. Soft velvet settees were strewn across the space under a luxurious pergola and a fantastic view of the ball waiting to be dropped.

Lounging next to one of the many heat lamps, you wrapped your coat tighter around your shoulders. “So, who are you kissing when the clock strikes midnight?” Nat asked you, pouring you a glass of Bollinger. Her red lipstick was as bright as her hair. With one side of her fur falling down her shoulder, she looked like the classic Hollywood vixen, ready for her next close-up. Fitting for tonight’s Vintage Hollywood theme.

“I don’t know,” you lied, taking the stem from her hand. You knew exactly who you wanted to kiss tonight. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Liar.” She said so cooly. You smirked, chastising yourself for trying to lie to one of the world’s best interrogators. “I bet I could guess who!” She sang as you rolled your eyes.

“Even if I did want one of them to kiss me, that doesn’t mean that they will.”

“Come on. I’m sure one of them would love to snog you at midnight,” she chuckled. “An extra blessing of good health and fortune for the coming year…” She wagged her eyebrows and elbowed you.

“Oh, please.”

“Ok, there’s Steve.”

“Your ex?!”

“Ya!”

“No!” you exclaimed.

“He’s a great kisser.”

“Then why don’t you kiss him at midnight”

“We’re trying to get YOU kissed. Not me, remember? OK, what about Thing 1 and Thing 2?” She said pointing to Sam and Bucky.

“No,” you said laughing.

“Why not?”

“No. I just don’t see them that way. It’ll make for an awkward kiss.”

“How ‘bout Bruce?”

“Bruce isn’t even here.” You said looking around the party.

“Ok then, what about Thor?”

“He’s with Jane.”

“Why not try your luck with tall, dark, and stabby then?” she said pointing to Loki with her champagne flute. You snorted at her nickname for Loki nearly spilling champagne as you took a calculated sip. “Oh my god!”

“Nat! Please. Keep your voice down!”

“No one can hear me! It’s a loud party.”

“Yes, a party with superhuman beings who have superhuman hearing!”

“Good! Maybe he’ll make a move!” She said slightly louder, hoping to grab his attention.

“Shh! Shh! Keep it down!” you laughed as you tried to calm her. “He’s been making moves. But I think…I dropped the ball on this one.” You looked over to where Loki was standing, trying to see if he had caught anything that Nat was saying. He was standing proud, having a conversation with Steve. His long black coat fit him snugly while the fur lining of his collar accented his sharp jaw. His gloved hand squeezed tightly around the cane he was holding, making you wonder if he did hear Nat. God, to have that gloved hand wrapped around my neck.

“He’s staring at you.” You heard Nat whisper to your ear.

“What?!” you turned to Nat and then back to Loki quickly, meeting his stare. You were so caught up in imagining his hands that you missed his eyes on you.

You see Loki and Steve staring at both of you, saying things under hushed tones. “They’re probably looking at you,” you explained. “What’s the deal between you and Steve, anyway?” You changed the subject. “How long has it been since you guys talked?”

“A while.”

“How long is a whi-”

“Listen, since I don’t have anyone to kiss either, why don’t we just kiss each other at midnight? Deal?”

You paused at her ability to change the subject. You gave her a knowing look but allowed her to escape your scrutiny. “Deal!” you sighed, giggling as you clinked your glasses again and took sips readying for round two.

Loki smirked as he listened to your entire conversation. Up until now, he’s been patiently waiting for you to come to him. Giving you compliments. Finding small but lingering ways to touch you. He didn’t know if his tactics were working until he overheard your conversation with Agent Romanoff. He was confident you returned his affections.

Nerves shot through his entire body. Excitement and anxiety all rolled into one giant emotion he could not define. Who knew that Barnes and Wilson’s advice would work? “Tell me, Rogers, what is this tradition you guys have about kissing each other at midnight?” Loki asked as he watched you and Romanoff.

Steve followed Loki’s stare and saw you and Natasha lounging and laughing over a bottle of champagne. He remembered how he and Nat kissed at midnight last year, promising each other to try. But ultimately failing after six months.

“It’s a stupid superstition that doesn’t mean anything,” Steve said bitterly. Loki gave him a look to continue. “It’s said that whoever you kiss at midnight, will be your sweetheart for the rest of the year. Or if you’re already in a relationship, make it stronger.”

“I see,” Loki said contemplatively.

“It’s just superstition, Loki, don’t buy into it.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my brother.” Loki excused himself, already putting together details of a plan in his head.

“Thor! Thor…” he said pulling him aside. “Did you know about this Midgardian tradition of kissing at midnight?”

“Yes! Jane and I planned on it when the hour strikes. Who will be your intended, dear brother?” Thor asked happily. Loki looked at him pointedly. “Oh! You got the priestess to agree to kiss you?! That’s wonderful news!”

“Not quite. I need your help.”

“Get Help?”

“NO! For Father’s sake, if you throw me across the room, I will END YOU!”

“Alright, alright. I jest Loki. What can I do to help?”

“I’d like to kiss her at midnight, but too many people are vying for her attention. Too many variables. Too many options.”

“Don’t worry little brother, I’ve got this!”

Ten minutes before midnight, you can feel the buzz in the air as everyone scrambles to ring in the new year. You and Nat had graduated to the bar. Both of you nursing new flutes of prosecco.

Behind you, Thor rushes through the crowd looking for Steve. “Rogers, who are you kissing at midnight? Nat or Wanda?”

“Nat or Wanda? What do you mean?”

“Well, you have to kiss someone. Isn’t that your Midgardian tradition? And I figured you wouldn’t want to kiss Nat, I mean with your history and all…”

“Well, ya…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about Thor’s proposition. “But what about Y/N?”

“Oh, Lady Y/N is kissing my brother.”

“Loki?! But, I…”

“Oh, I apologize. Did you want to kiss my brother instead?” Thor asked quickly. “I can look for him and change his mind. I didn’t know you had…”

“NO! No, I don’t. But, um…”

“Wonderful! So, Nat or Wanda?”

“I guess Wanda,” Steve shrugged. “Nat and I do have a history.”

“Perfect! I’ll let Wanda know.”

“Now hold on just a second…” Steve’s voice trailed away as Thor sprinted into the crowd. His eyes searched for the Scarlet Witch among the revelers and found her amidst a harem of men all rivaling for her attention.

“Wanda!” Thor shouted, frightening some of the men in the group. “Come. Steve says he wanted to kiss you at midnight!”

“I knew it! He couldn’t hide behind that shy act for long!” she said standing up and smoothing out her dress.

“Perfect! You should go to him right now, and make sure no one else claims him before you do.” Thor said. Wanda nodded with determination and marched her way over to Steve.

“Oh, come on Thor!” Wilson said behind him. “I was just about to ask her!” Thor turned to see Sam and Bucky amongst Wanda’s many admirers.

“Uh…you’re in luck, my dear friends. I know someone anxious to kiss you both.” Thor gleamed.

“Us both?” Bucky questioned. Thor pointed to where you and Natasha sat.

“Ooh, nice choice. But I doubt that Steve would actually like that.” Sam said.

“And I believe Y/N is already spoken for,” Bucky added, pointing to Loki walking in your direction.

“It is for Steve we do this!” Thor wrapped his bulging arms around each of their necks. “We all know how miserable both he and Natasha are right now. Make him a little jealous. Perhaps he’ll rise to the occasion and get back his true love.”

“His true love?” Sam questioned.

“For true love!” Thor repeated, squeezing their necks tighter.

“The things we do for our friends,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Meanwhile, Loki made his way to the bar where you and Nat were laughing. “Ladies,” he said in that low baritone of his. “I’m sorry to disrupt your merriment, but may I speak to you privately, Agent Romanoff?”

You and Nat exchanged glances as she raised her eyebrow. A smirk fell upon her red lips and that’s when you felt it. A sharp pang of jealousy that twisted a knife in your gut. You hoped that your smile was still plastered on your face. Lord knows Nat could spot a tell from a mile away and you weren’t as good at hiding it as she was.

Loki offered his hand and Nat took it, hopping off the barstool, hand in hand with the man you’ve been pining for. You waited till both their backs were to you when you turned back around to the bar and let your smile die.

“Can I get a shot of tequila!” you yelled to the bartender, holding up your hand. You watched as Loki led Nat to the middle of the room, his arm wrapped around her delicate waste. “Make it a double!” you said with a huff. The sight in front of you was too much to witness. You had accepted that you might not get to kiss Loki at all tonight, but to watch him kiss someone else would be devastating to you.

With nothing, and no one else, keeping you at the party you decided to leave. You ran from the party as quickly as possible with your head turned down, holding back tears and feelings of betrayal.

“Loki, I hope you’re not gonna ask me for a kiss at midnight. That’s a hard pass.” Nat started before he took her very far.

“No, my dear. I overheard your conversation earlier with our dear healer. I was hoping to alleviate your promise of kissing her at midnight by offering you an alternative.”

“What alternative?”

“Two, alternatives actually.” At this, Loki gently grabbed Natasha’s shoulder and spun her around to see Bucky and Sam by the DJ booth. Sam held his drink up to her in greeting, while Bucky just grinned.

“Two! Steve wouldn’t like this.”

“Roger’s is kissing the Witch tonight.” He pointed to where Steve and Wanda were talking. Jealousy burned inside Natasha. A quiet resolve cemented in her and she was set on making him pay for it. “But what about Y/N?”

“As I said, I plan to take charge of her kiss from midnight, and all her kisses thereafter,” Loki winked at her.

“Don’t play with her heart, Loki.”

“I should warn you of the same with your soldier, agent.” He bowed slightly as Nat sauntered her way over to the two soldiers waiting for her.

When Loki turned back towards the bar, his face had fallen realizing that you were no longer there. Panicked, he looked around and found a trail of your coat just as it disappeared inside the hotel. Loki looked at his watch- three minutes left. The crowd below started getting restless and the giant numbers on the large screen on top of the prismatic ball had started ticking down towards midnight.

“Darling, where are you going? The clock is about to strike.” Loki caught up to you at the elevators. You gulped at the sight of him coming towards you. Inside the lobby, the heat was almost suffocating, and Loki unbuttoned his coat to be less stifling. You watched as he removed his gloves, finger by finger, and stuffed them into his coat pocket. The action mesmerized you until you were face to face with him.

“Loki! Shouldn’t you be with Natasha right now?” You said as you looked up at the elevator numbers ticking by so slowly. You pushed the call button praying for the lift to come faster.

“She’s currently entertaining Thing 1 and Thing 2. If my memory of your conversation serves me correctly.” You stared at him in disbelief. You might have had too much to drink. But not enough to miss the implication of what that meant.

He knows. He overheard your conversation and he knows!

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you towards him, leading you away from the elevators. Away from the notion of running.

His fingers were soft and warm as he cupped your cheek. “Since you’ve saved my life, I have plotted and asked several times for you to kiss me again, my angel. I will not ask again.” His lips were grazing your skin. The heat in his breath intoxicated you. You closed your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of being held by him. “I told myself that the next time we kiss, it would be because you asked me to. Not out of any obligation. But because you want me. As much as I want you.”

Outside you could hear the deafening roar of people counting down from ten. It melded with the electric buzz going through your body being held so close by Loki. “But I truly can't resist you any longer. I have thought of nothing else since you kissed me that day on the field.”

“Loki…”

“Please ask me.” Three.

“What?” Two.

“Ask me to kiss you.” One.

“Kiss me Loki-” you barely said his name when his lips found yours and held on tight. A slight whimper fell from your lips, and he reacted by holding you tighter against his body.

Your fingers were entwined in his hair, holding him close to you. You pulled away to catch your breath, and his lips followed yours—unsatisfied from the short amount of contact they had received.

This kiss was different than the last. There wasn’t a threat of losing his life hanging over you. Instead, the urge was from longing and desire. There was fire and vigor in his lips. And you consumed him easily like a starved woman.

“Happy New Year, my dear,” Loki exhaled between kisses.

“Happy New Year,” you giggled holding him tight.

⬅️ Have Mercy (prequel)

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eccentricallygothic · 4 months ago

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|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You.

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power.

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact.

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of.

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence.

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before.

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception.

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you.

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long.

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’.

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it.

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude.

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak.

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity.

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders.

You get it.

That was the deal, after all.

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days.

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve.

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here.

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you.

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble.

He is reminding you of your place.

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no!

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness.

Fuck.

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped.

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff.

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!”

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.”

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now.

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense.

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once.

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now.

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!”

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you.

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore.

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be.

It appears as though the sentence has changed.

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance.

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time.

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions.

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm.

It always gets better after that.

For him, at least.

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs.

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!”

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here.

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud.

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity.

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices.

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion.

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!”

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away.

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision.

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!”

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives.

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there.

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try.

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust.

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you.

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously.

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”

Oh, no.

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him.

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?”

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again.

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all.

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle.

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further.

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result.

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it.

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during.

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!”

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence.

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this.

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe.

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting.

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down.

Quite literally.

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness.

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form.

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake.

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way.

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

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