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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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tiza0925 · 9 months ago

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Hello! I'm new to this but have you ever thought about any of your favorite characters while they're in the act and you look down at a certain part and they're so big on you that it scares you but they're pretty sure it could fit.I don't know if you could write something like that, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

hellooo, absolutely love this prompt so much ty for this ♡

men that make it fit | 18+

warnings/tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, size difference, fingering, pet names, praise kink, squirting, raw sex, implied multiple orgasms, large cocks ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Big men who just cover your entire body with theirs when they’re on top of you.

Guys who make you feel so small when you’re on their lap, their hands are so damn big that they can cover your entire waist, legs, and hands—practically engulfing you.

Big men that just pin you to the mattress while making out with you, they’re so strong without needing to try, and you probably should feel scared by the difference in strengths but god—you feel so secure.

And you know he’ll take care of you even if he can hurt you sometimes—never on purpose unless you want it—because of how massive he is.

Guys who feel just a little bad when they hear you cry from them pushing their thick fingers inside you—stretching your poor cunt and making you leak all over his hand as he curls his fingers inside your plush walls, coaxing out a throbbing orgasm from you.

“Such a sweet little thing for me,” You hear him murmur, watching as your face twists with pleasure, and he can see the slight worry in your eyes as he fucks you with his fingers. “My baby is taking me so well already.”

But can you take his cock?

Fuck—what if it’s too big?

It must be—his fingers are already too much for you—his dick will be nearly impossible to fit inside you.

“You think you can be good and take my cock?” You whine, feeling heady and muddy as he pins both of your hands above your head on the bed, while his other hand continues to twist and curl inside you, his thumb pressing and rubbing your swollen clit. “I want to feel my favourite pussy, sweetheart.”

But you suck in a shaky breath, eyes wide and scared because you know you can’t fit all of him in, and he chuckles breathlessly as he kisses your lips so softly, making you melt against him.

“Don’t be scared,” He kisses your cheek, then gives your trembling lower lip a gentle pull with his mouth, trying to get you relaxed as he strums his fingers through your sopping folds, his voice low and deceptively soothing. “I’ll be gentle with you, okay?”

He always is—and that’s the thing.

No matter how gentle he tries to be—he still ends up stretching you so wide that you think you might actually split in half, the sting of him inside you being too much that you cry sometimes.

He kisses you, and reassures you, hand running up and down your body to spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Then he’s pushing his pants off to let his fat cock bounce free—it lands on your belly, all hot and heavy, and your breath hitches as electricity sparks through your body—and your heart rate doubles with every passing moment, just waiting for him to stuff you with his cock.

“Relax for me,” He says while guiding his dick to slide between your plush pussy, letting your slick folds hug his length and coat them in juices as he rocks his hips—his cock head bumping against your clit every time his hips are flushed against yours.

“You feel that, baby?” Your lashes flutter, your eyes half-lidded as he works you up, making your cunt pulse as he glides his heavy cock over it. “You’re gonna be so good and fit all of me, okay?”

You gulp, but you still nod—because you want to be good for him.

You want to feel him and make him feel good.

And he watches you, focused, taking in every twitch of your features as he slowly pushes the head of his dick inside you—his eyes alight with heat when he sees the way your mouth pops open with a gasp, already feeling the intense stretch of him.

“You’re okay, baby,” he shushes you, sliding his hands under your thighs to guide them around his waist, and you whine as you hook your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, sloppily kissing him as he waits for you to adjust. “You feel so tight already—fuck—”

He groans, his voice vibrating against you, and you begin to breathe heavily as he pushes his fat cock into you—making you feel every agonizing inch as your pussy struggles to swallow him whole.

“I—“ Your sentence gets cut short as you choke, already feeling him in your lungs and he’s only halfway in, “I can’t—”

“You can,” One of his hands comes up to swipe a fallen tear on your cheek with his thumb, while his other hand pins you to the bed by the waist. “I know you can, baby, you always did before.”

Which is true—you always did but—

It’s just so fucking big—holy shit—

You bite your lip, and your eyes squeeze shut as you try your hardest to relax—your fluids being pushed out as he lodges his dick inside your warm, plush walls, causing a wet mess all over your thighs and bed.

You hold him as if you’re clinging onto dear life—taking all of him as he kisses you through it—until his hips finally press against your ass, his cock so deep that your limbs grow numb and you swear you can orgasm already.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He purrs, waiting a moment as your pussy throbs around him, feeling abused and soaked, and he smiles down at you so achingly soft. “Taking me all like a good girl for me.”

Then he pulls back—

“Oh god—” And you keen when he rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock along your walls, and he sets a pace of fucking you—getting you wet and your eyes to roll back as he becomes greedy with your pussy.

“Look, baby,” He grunts, thrusting his cock in and out, his length coming out slick and creamy from your arousal, and he grips your face—fingers squishing your cheeks—to make you look down. “Look how well you’re taking me.”

Your vision is foggy, you’re barely able to comprehend anything except for the dick inside your sore cunt, and you blink blearily as you try to look at what he wants you to see and—

Fuck.

You watch the way his cock disappears into your pussy, his girth forcing its way into you—and you let out a shaky breath at the way you’re taking it all in.

Just like he said you would.

“Told you I’ll make it fit, sweetheart, I always do,” You hear him murmur, and you force yourself to relax into a ragged breath as your limps melt into the mattress beneath you.

You feel like you’re being split in half as he fucks you over and over, bringing you higher and higher until you’re cumming all over him—gushing out liquid as you squirt on his cock with a wet moan, his name on your tongue—

And he takes good care of you throughout it all. His aftercare overwhelms you with cuddles of love and affirmation.

He loves you too much, anyway.

End.

Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, Atsumu, Suna, Gojo, Choso, Sakusa, Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Akaza, Oda, Kuroo, Hinata, plus any of your fav characters ♡

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w4ndal0ver · 30 days ago

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Good Wives Always Know (Wanda x Agatha x Reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: daddy!agatha x mommy!wanda x sub!reader

summary: You didn’t really know what you were expecting when Agatha and Wanda found out you were casually seeing them both at the same time, but you didn’t think it would end up like this.

content warnings: daddy!agatha, mommy!wanda, humiliation, degradation, praise, choking, breath play, nipple play, vibrator use, strap use, spanking, double penetration, strap sucking, power imbalance, bondage, oral sex, fingering, anal sex, spitting, probably more but read at your own discretion! <3

word count: 7k

Good Wives Always Know (Wanda x Agatha x Reader)

You tugged against the restraints tied harshly around your wrists, your face flushed as you were sat naked, wrists tied to either side of the headboard of your bed, the two women looking over you dressed completely. You couldn’t believe you’d been caught, you didn’t expect them to ever find out that you were simultaneously seeing them both. While you’d never confirmed exclusivity to either woman, with the dynamic you shared with both individually it was probably expected.

“Oh honey, you really thought you could keep this little game going forever? Did you honestly believe we wouldn’t find out.” Wanda coos, perching to the left side of you, smiling in her sickeningly sweet way, her fingers brushing over your burning cheek.

“Of course she thought that.” Agatha laughs, her chuckle a menacing contrast to Wanda’s calming demeanor. “Look at her Wanda, this little slut probably thought she was being clever.” You whined at the pet name, but your cheeks flushing scarlet as Wanda’s eyes opened wider at the contrast in how your other woman speaks to you, a stark difference to the dynamic you shared with her.

“I just don’t understand how you found the time baby. Keeping up with me and Agatha.” Wanda spoke, her voice deceptively soft as her head tilts to meet your shamed gaze. “That’s quite the schedule.

“Time? Oh, please.” Agatha cut in again, neither woman allowing you to speak, “She was probably slipping out of my bed and straight into yours, isn’t that right pet?” With that question she grasps your chin, pulling your face towards hers, her lips pursed as you glares down at you, her hand forcing you to nod in response to her question. You didn’t dare speak, you didn’t even know what to say.

“Now, now, let's not scare her too much. She’s not used to being called out, are you, sweet girl?” Wanda protests, her hand falling onto your thigh and giving you an encouraging squeeze. The combination of both women was turning your brain completely fuzzy as you felt yourself slipping into a submissive role that was being torn between both dynamics.

“Sweet? There's nothing sweet about her.” Agatha spits, releasing you from her grip, slapping you hard across the face, the noise alone drawing an elicit moan from your lips before you allow your head to drop, your hair falling across your face. “She’s a dirty little whore who thought she could have it all. Look at her now, squirming like the pathetic mess she is.”

“Let’s not be too hard on her, Agatha.” Wanda pouts, her fingers stroking through your sweat sodden hair. “She’s just inexperienced.”

“Inexperienced?” Agatha scoffs, the rage on her cheeks growing, “She’s been playing this game for ages. We’re just the ones to catch her.” This time, Agatha's hand found its way around your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck at your lack of response to any of their questions, even if they hadn’t given you the time to respond.

“I’m sorry.” You squeak, gasping on the words that get caught in your restricted throat.

“Sorry? You’re not sorry, you like playing games, don’t you slut?” Her grip returns harsher and you whine against the palm of her hand, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards.

“I didn’t-” You struggle breathlessly, trying to respond but you’re unable to underneath the brunettes pressure against your throat.

“Shh, sweet thing, let Agatha have her fun.” Wanda cuts you off, her voice soothing but taunting at the same time. “She’s just upset because you’ve been so naughty. She only wants to teach you how to behave.”

A wicked grin spreads across Agatha’s face as she loosens her grip and you splutter at the sudden rush of air. She doesn’t let you go completely, enough to let you catch your breath but still hold you captive against the mattress. “Oh, I’m not done yet. But don’t worry pet, you’ll learn. You’re going to beg us to teach you more by the time we’re through.” Her voice drips with disdain as she lets her other hand trace down your body, stopping just above your waist.

You feel your skin begin to heat up with both fear and desire, your words unable to contain themselves. “I don’t want to, please, don’t-” You start to squirm under her grip, feeling trapped but exhilarated, your hands tugging harder against the restraints.

“Stop pretending. You want this and don’t you dare act innocent now when you’ve been sneaking behind our backs.” Agatha’s voice rises in anger again, eyes darkening with jealousy as she looks at Wanda, the soft glow of the redhead's eyes beaming down on you doing nothing but spurring her on.

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted you both, I didn’t know-” Your words begin to trail off as you realise how desperate you sound with both women on either side of you, both with their hands on different parts of your body.

Wanda smiles at the admission, her fingers caressing your face as she leans back just slightly to give Agatha more space. “Oh baby, we know. You just don’t know how to pick one, do you.” Her voice was laced with sweet mockery now, your cheeks glowing pink as her tone began to change, a switch up that you were all too well acquaintanced with. “But now, you’ll learn what happens when you can’t choose. You belong to us, whether you like it or not.”

Agatha's lips curl into a smirk as she leans in, bringing her face close to yours, her voice a sharp whisper, “You don’t get to play both sides anymore, you’re ours now, and we’ll make sure you know exactly what that means.” You whine at her words, her hand inching closer to where you needed her, the exchanges between the two women had made you more desperate than you could ever imagine, arousal dripping down the lengths of your inner thighs.

“Do you understand sweetheart?” Wanda asks carefully, her fingers brushing your goosebumped skin, the pads of her fingertips edging towards your aching nipples.

“Yes Mommy.” You reply, your lips rolling against each other as Agatha smirks down at you, her fingers pressing down into your pubic bone, hard enough to leave white marks into your skin.

“How cute, you’ve got your Mommy and your Daddy.” Agatha smirks, not knowing Wanda’s title to you until your shamed admission through glossy eyes as you can’t pick someone to focus on. “Now your Mommy has been telling me some things about you and how much of a greedy slut you are with her, hm?” Even Wanda squirmed slightly at Agatha’s words, but you, you were a whimpering mess underneath them both.

“I don’t, I’m not-” You exclaim, batting your eyelashes at Wanda who didn’t give you any soft and calming looks back.

“You’ve never touched her have you?” Agatha states, two fingers reaching down to stroke the length of your cunt, spreading you apart and gathering your arousal onto her fingers. You shake your head, both you and Wanda knowing that their dynamic was different to yours and Agathas. “But that's what she’s good for Wanda, she's such a good little fucktoy when she wants to be, I use her all the time you should try her.”

With her words, the pressure of her fingertips grew stronger, planting lazy circles against your clit, being spoken about like you’re not there, not getting the attention that you want was driving you insane. You tried everything to snap them back to you, lifting your hips, trying to get the friction that you desperately craved, but Agatha was good at ignoring you.

“You’re going to show your Mommy how good that tongue of yours is.” Agatha orders, casually removing her hand from between your legs despite your whines of protest, untying the restraints that had held you captive. As soon as you’d been let free, her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving you onto your knees.

As Wanda stood, she unbuckled her belt, removed her trousers and her laced underwear, positioning herself in front of your hung face, her legs open and you were practically drooling at the sight of her opened up in front of you, her arousal reflecting the light.

“Go on honey, I give you permission.” Wanda spoke calmly, watching as Agatha positioned herself behind you, unknowingly to you. You couldn’t care what Agatha was doing as the permission to touch her was the only thing you could focus on. You didn’t know what Wanda liked, but you just performed what Agatha had taught you when you first met, your tongue licking wide strokes up and down the length of her pussy, groaning at the taste of her.

Just as you started to drive circles into Wanda’s clit with the tip of your tongue, you felt Agatha’s hand collide harshly with your ass, an unexpected moan forced its way through your lips, vibrating conveniently against Wanda’s cunt.

“You’ve been seeing your Mommy for ten weeks behind Daddy’s back, so you’re getting ten.” Agatha announces, delivering another quick spank to the other cheek. You moaned again, this time you were joined with a high pitched groan from Wanda, who had fallen back on her arms, her hips lifting to meet where your tongue was circling lightly against your clit.

“Oh baby you’re making Mommy feel so good.” Wanda gasped as your circles got harder and tighter. Agatha delivered two more spanks to you and you groan increasingly louder with each one and the redhead’s hands fall into the locks of your hair, forcing your face closer to her arousal. You started to suck against her clit, your rhythm being put off once again by another spank.

“You make Mommy sound so pretty with that whore mouth of yours.” Agatha comments and even Wanda whines at the remark, her cheeks flushed and her neck strained as show throws her head back in pure ecstasy. “Look at your Mommy when you make her cum.” She forces your head up, your tongue remaining firmly against Wanda’s clit, the redhead trembling in front of you as Agatha smacks your ass another three times in quick succession was enough to make you fall apart in between them both.

You could feel Wanda shaking around you, her thighs clenching harder around your face as Agatha spanked you for the penultimate time. Wanda’s chest rose as you sucked against her clit, grazing your teeth over her nub and that was all she needed, she came tumbling over the edge with a pornographic moan, her hands still buried in your hair as she continued to grind against your tongue as she worked herself through her orgasm.

Just as you leaned away from her, Agatha slapped your ass harder than she ever had before you and groaned in pain, trying to scurry away from her, but she had a tight grip on your thighs, keeping you in place.

“God your Daddy was right, you are incredible with your tongue.” Wanda praises, changing her position so she’s lying next to you, her hands caressing the red marks left by Agatha. You pout at the redhead, knowing that you could get yourself out of this punishment if you kept acting sweet and innocent, but Agatha would never fall for it. You were right, of course.

Agatha flips you onto your back, laying you down harshly against the matress. “Don’t give into her Wanda, she wanted our attention and now she’s got it so let’s see how much she can take.” You watch as Agatha reaches for her wand, handing it over to Wanda and you feel your body squirm as your mind flicks to the countless times Wanda has punished you with this toy, edging you over and over until you’re a pathetic mess begging her to let you come.

“Come on sweetheart, you know you have to be punished so take it like a good girl.” Wanda beams, her smile calming you as Agatha pries open your legs, holding one so you can’t escape from what was about to happen. You hear the vibrations before you feel them, the anticipation making your body tremble as the brunettes' nails dug harshly into your upper thigh.

Wanda moves the vibrator an inch so it's pressed lightly up against your clit and you whine so desperately to the pleasure that was coursing through your body. You were already so desperate, your arousal leaking and smothering your thighs from being spanked so harshly, your clit pulsating against the vibrations as Wanda pressed the head of the toy harder against you.

Agatha started to play with your hardened nipples, she was never gentle with you. Her nails were scratching against your nubs, her fingers rolling them harshly. The addition of Agatha’s harsh pulls and twists against your breasts and the increasing vibrations pulsating through your cunt was bringing you unashamedly close to the edge as your thighs begin to tremble, Agatha slaps your erect nipple, making you gasp and try not to tumble over the edge. Before you could even think about it, Wanda removed the vibrator from you, her familiar mockingly sad pout looming over you as Agatha continued to play with your nipples.

Wanda gives you a few seconds to reset before placing the vibrator back against your clit as your hips buck subconsciously to meet the toy. “Do you like being the center of attention? Having both of us watching your every move?” Wanda asks, her voice slick with a sweet mockery of your current state as you nod so hard you almost pass out.

“Oh she loves it. Look at her.” Agatha jeers, leaning down to bite your right nipple, drawing a high pitched squeal from your throat, “She’s practically begging for more.”

You felt yourself getting close again, but before you could get there Wanda removed the vibrator once more. You were frustrated, your cheeks flushed, your forehead slick with sweat. You start whining but Agatha grasps your mouth with her flat palm, forcing your whines to be muffled by her strop grip as Wanda places the vibrator against you again.

You get close embarrassingly fast, not being given enough time to recover. You start trembling and moaning against Agatha’s hand, but before you are given any sort of release the vibrator is removed from you again. Wanda can’t help but laugh at your body sprawled across the mattress, Agatha’s fingers still pulling at your nipples.

“Please Mommy, I can’t, I need to come, please.” You beg, knowing that it usually worked with Wanda, tactfully choosing not to address Agatha because you know what the answer would be.

“Okay sweetheart, this time you can come for Mommy okay.” You nod enthusiastically, opening your legs up wider and you can hear Agatha scoff in disbelief at how easily Wanda had caved from one line of pathetic begging. You felt the vibrator again, this time your body relaxed into it, allowing the pleasure to take over your body. You were a stuttering mess, your body squirming despite both womens harsh grips on your skin in an attempt to keep you still.

This time when you get close, you let your body take over and the orgasm rips fiercely through your body, your muscles contorting from the relief of frustration. Just as Wanda went to turn the vibrator off, Agatha grabs if from Wanda, finding the dial and turning it up to the maximum speed and pressing it hard against your sensitive clit.

“No way, Daddy is not letting you get off that easy.” Agatha smirks as you do everything you can to get away from the strength of the toy that was being pressed so harshly against you it was painful. Your legs start thrashing against the bed, but Agatha doesn’t stop, she just laughs at your struggle.

“Please forgive me Daddy, I can’t” You whine desperately, tears forming in your eyes as another painful orgasm rushed through your body against your will, but she still doesn’t give in, she keeps her strong grip on the vibrator, not allowing you to escape from her.

“You know the word if you can’t do it.” Agatha says, waiting impatiently for a safeword to come out of your mouth, but as she expected, she was met with radio silence, “Yeah thats what I thought you fucking whore, take it like the little slut you are for Daddy.” Agatha laughs as she pushes even harder and you scream in desperation as you feel another orgasm getting dangerously close to your sensitive cunt, you weren’t even sure if you could manage another one.

Wanda started to draw circles into your skin, her instincts kicking in when she sees a tear stream down your face. She goes to wipe it from your cheek, but Agatha stops her with her spare hand. “Look at how pathetic she looks when she cries, she’s so easy to break.” Agatha says as more tears stream down your cheeks. Wanda manages to brush a few away from your cheek much to Agatha’s distaste.

“I’ve never seen her like this before, she looks so helpless.” Wanda comments as your body shakes underneath the vibrator, the pain and pleasure combining too much and you’re so overstimulated you can’t help but let the tears fall.

“Helpless? No doll, she’s nothing more than our slutty little toy and she’s ours to break, look at her, it's pathetic.” With that, she spits at you, her saliva mixing with your tears on your face. This time you’re met with Wanda looking down at you, a satisfied hum leaving her throat as she finally sees what Agatha means. You were done for, if Agatha could convert Wanda so easily, you didn’t know if you’d ever get out of it.

“I can’t do it Daddy, I’m so close I can’t do it again.” You whine in desperation as another orgasm tried to break you, but you were holding it back so you didn’t have to feel the sensitivity afterwards again.

“God you’re so pathetic.” Agatha growls, turning the vibrator off and you can breathe again, your aching cunt dripping down onto the bed sheets. You’re barely given a moment to recover before Agatha is unbuckling her belt and forcing you up onto your knees. “It’s a shame, I was going to fuck you after one more orgasm.” Agatha laughed, motioning towards your favourite purple strap that was waiting for you, already attached to the harness.

“No wait Daddy, Please I’ll do it, I’m sorry.” You whine, you knew this was Agatha messing with your head but your fuzzy state of mind couldn’t see past it, the only thing you knew how to do was beg, even if they called you pathetic. She ignored your attempts, holding her belt between her hands before buckling it back around your hands as she tugged them behind your back, tightening it so you couldn’t move them. You winced at the stretch, but you got no sympathy in return.

“No its okay sweetheart, you can watch while Mommy gets fucked by Daddy instead of you.” Wanda coos and you could have almost combusted on the spot. You try to move, but your hands behind your back put you off balance and you realise your fate as Agatha slips herself into the harness, lubing it up as Wanda arches her back on the mattress. You couldn’t even whine anymore, your silence was astronomical as you watched the scene play out in front of you.

Agatha isn’t rough with Wanda, she treats her with respect, knowing the redhead deserved it. “Agatha, no teasing.” Wanda demands as she feels the head of the strap rubbing against her pussy, and Agatha immediately complies, pushing the length of the cock inside of her and relishing in the pornographic sounds that erupted from the redhead's mouth. Wanda’s fingernails dug into the bedsheets, gripping fistfuls of the duvet underneath her as she felt Agatha’s hips begin to thrust gently into her.

“Fuck you’re so tight for me,” Agatha groans, finding the strength to double her efforts and thrust harder into the redhead, feeling how desperate she was for her. “Makes a change fucking someone who isn’t a pathetic fucktoy.” Agatha shoots her words at you as she squirm against the mattress, your knees begin to ache and your shoulders pulling backwards at un uncomforting level. “You like watching Daddy fuck Mommy huh?” Agatha asks you and Wanda’s blissed out face turns to look at you writhing in your restraints.

“Let me see how wet you are, open those legs for Mommy.” Wanda manages to get out in a fairly casual manner considering Agatha is basically pounding into her now, her hands on her waist, forcing her back onto her cock to meet her thrusts. You do as she says, the wet patch forming underneath you a good enough indicator of how much this was turning you on.

At the sight of you, to Wanda’s delight, Agatha got rougher with her thrusts, her hand snaking round her body to circle her clit with the tips of two of her fingers. That was all it took, Wanda came crashing around the brunette's cock, her moans unashamedly loud and Agatha looks fairly satisfied with both of your reactions. Before she had a chance to pull out, Wanda lifted her body up with Agatha’s cock still buried inside of her, turning her head to place a kiss against her lips.

That was only the beginning as the brunette reciprocated, grabbing the back of her neck and tracing her tongue against the surface of Wanda’s, both of them moaning into each other's mouths as Wanda grinded against the base of the strap. That turned you on more than watching them have sex, the way they moulded together in a fierce fight of dominance. Your desperate whines pull them away from each other, both their eyes falling on you.

To your disappointment, Agatha shimmied her way out of her harness, leaving her wearing her shirt and laced underwear, a small damp patch revealing itself to you and you were ready to give Agatha everything you know she needed. The brunette watched as you licked your lips at the sight of her dampened underwear and she stripped them from her cunt, throwing them to the side before guiding you onto your front, your hands still restrained behind your back.

“You’re going to make Daddy come as a thank you from me sweetheart.” Wanda said, tucking your hair behind your ear, as Agatha leaned backwards, her legs spread as the redhead helped you into position. She undoes the belt, allowing you to lean on your elbows as you kiss Agatha’s clit, her arousal seeping into your lips. She didn’t like it when you rushed, and you knew how desperate she was for it and how you’d be more likely to get what you want if you please her.

“Put that mouth to good use slut.” Agatha growls through her desperation, scratching her nails through your hair and digging into your scalp to keep your face in position as you lick swirls through her folds. Unlike Wanda, Agatha rarely made a sound, she just went silent, her eyes always remaining on you through hooded eyes, giving you no satisfaction for making her cum.

“While you make your Daddy feel good, we’re going to show her what we like to do together when you’re really desperate.” Wanda breathes into your ear, her body slick against yours, biting your earlobe before grabbing your ass and your eyes widened as your tongue worked hard against Agatha’s wet cunt. “Because I can feel how desperate you are.” Wanda smirked, two fingers reaching for your entrance, swiping at your dripping arousal before sucking her fingers into her mouth to taste your desperation plain and simple.

She starts to push her fingers towards your entrance, before she stops, gathering enough arousal between her fingertips before allowing one of them to graze the rim of your second hole and you groan into Agatha’s pussy, the vibrations making her legs twitch. “You want me in here, don't you love.” Wanda teased, pressing lightly against your asshole, something which you’d never let Agatha do. You nod, your tongue beginning large circles around Agatha’s clit, still remaining slow and composed against her cunt, knowing better than to speed up without instruction.

“I wanna show Daddy.” You say, lifting up to take a breath, but you were immediately forced back down by Agatha’s quick hands and your tongue knows to continue before your brain can tell you to.

You could feel Wanda shifting her weight behind you before palming the soft skin of your ass a few times before spreading it. The sound which left your mouth and reverberated off of Agatha’s cunt as Wanda pressed her tongue against your asshole was bordering on humiliating. You pussy clenched around nothing, aching at the way she teased your rim.

Wanda hummed against your skin before pulling back to rub a slick finger against it. “You take it so well, don’t you? You like getting your ass fucked by Mommy?”

The flush she brought to your cheeks had you squirming, but your tongue remained present on Agatha’s clit, the tug she had on your hair made you speed up just a fraction, the tremble in her thighs spurring you on.

Wanda reached round your body to circle your clit in order to distract you from the way her fingertip dipped inside. She was efficient with it, working it deeper and deeper until you could feel her knuckle against your skin. Your pussy tightened with every gentle thrust as she worked, dripping down to where her other hand slid across your clit.

By the time she lined a second finger alongside the first, Agatha was letting out the prettiest little grunts. You watched for a while, enjoying the rock of her hips and the wet noises your tongue made against her heat. You groaned desperately when you felt Wanda’s second finger stretching deep inside of you.

She was working hard to stretch you out, knowing what would be coming next, but you didn’t. Before you could even question why Wanda was preparing you up, Agatha’s chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace and her hands in your hair gripped tightly and you knew she was close. You continued the exact rhythm you’d found with your tongue and within a few seconds Agatha’s thighs were trembling before trapping your head between her legs while you sent her over the edge with a few breathy moans, your head transfixed into face as Wanda stretched you out with her two fingers.

As soon as Agatha recovered, Wanda gently pulled out of you and before you could protest at the emptiness, the brunette pulled you onto her body, colliding her lips with yours so she could taste herself on your tongue.

“Are you ready to make it up to us like the dirty little whore you are?” Agatha pulled away and whispered into your ear. You nodded desperately and before you could move yourself, Agatha grabbed a fistfull of your hair and forced you onto the floor on your already sore knees. You grunted at the pain, but you received nothing as you watched both women put on harnesses, Agatha's purple one a lot bigger than Wanda’s pale pink dildo.

You sat and waited in anticipation, falling against the heels of your feet, your hands remaining on your thighs. Both women, strapped up, sit themselves next to each other at the foot of the bed, looking down at you on your knees.

“She’s got so much potential, doesn’t she?” Wanda said and your face flushed pink at the praise, your eyes meeting Wanda’s and you were met with the kind gentle face you were used to.

“Potential?” Agatha scoffed, “Sure, if you mean as a toy for us to use.” Your face flushed a darker red, changing your gaze to meet Agatha’s unforgiving smirk. “Come on slut , you know what to do.” Agatha smiled, looking down at her cock, waiting for you to clasp your lips around it.

So you do exactly that, taking just the head into your mouth, licking around the top as if she could actually feel it before bobbing your head down further to take as much of her in as you could. Once you’d adjusted, she grabbed your hair, pushing you further down the shaft until you choked and spluttered against the strap. She lets you up for air, before Wanda guides your face towards her cock, gently forcing you to do the same thing on her. You oblige, not once closing your mouth as the two women take turns in having your lips around their cocks.

“Oh you poor thing,” Wanda cooed as tears began to stream down your face as you spluttered around her dildo for the second time, before Agatha grabs you and forces her cock into your mouth with a harsh thrust. The ache in your core growing and growing. “You needed two of us to take charge and put you in your place, didn’t you.” Despite Agatha's cock sliding further down your throat you manage to nod at Wanda's words.

“And this is your place, desperately sucking on Mommy and Daddy’s cocks before we fuck you with them.” Agatha jeers and the words make you choke and they stop. You sit against your heels again, a mixture of saliva and tears running down your face as you look up at both of them who just look so unbelievably satisfied with themselves. They’d almost broken you.

You get pulled back up onto the bed, forced onto your front so your head is buried in the pillows that had fallen out of place into the middle of the bed. Wanda shifted behind you, swinging a leg over your own and steadying herself with a hand against your back. Agatha walks around the side of the bed, sitting against the end, right next to where your head was lying.

Slick fingers pressed into your asshole again, Wanda was relatively careful, checking with you over and over that you could take her fingers with relative ease before the blunt head of her toy pressed against your rim.

“Don’t be shy.” Wanda encouraged, looking at how your face was being pushed into the pillows.

“Daddy wants to see your face when she fills up your ass.” Agatha snarked from above and as much as you rolled your eyes, there was no getting away from it as two fingers pressed under your chin and she forced you to look directly into her eyes.

The slightest increase against your asshole and you were fighting Agatha’s grip, not able to keep eye contact, but she was firm on you looking at her as Wanda’s hand groped at your asscheek, spreading you even wider so she could see you stretch around the tip of her cock.

Wanda pressed deeper, but not by much. Her hands wrapped around your hips, caressing the skin while her cock rocked gently.

“More please Mommy.” You grunt, pressing your ass back to heighten the intensity. You met Agatha’s smirk and with a few more gentle rocks you whined at the feeling of her hips pressed against your ass, the way her strap stretched around you, and the clench of your empty pussy. There was a temptation to bury your face into the pillows, but you’d never seen Agatha’s eyes light up the way they were right now.

“Tell Daddy how much you like it when Mommy fucks you like this.” Wanda gasps, wrapping her hands around your hips, working her cock steadily until there was no stretch to speak of, just the rhythmic shift of her.

“I love it when Mommy fucks me like this.” You stutter through breathy moans, but there was a reason Agatha had started moving towards you and you knew what was coming.

You were aware of how your cunt was dripping onto the sheets, your spread knees meaning it had no stimulation whatsoever as Wanda fucked your other hole. Agatha kneed her way closer, “Look at you, this is the sluttiest I’ve ever seen you.”

You whine as you let their hands coax you up until you are sandwiched between them. Your back arched, pressing your bare chest against Agatha as she pushed the pillows out of the way. One hand held her shoulder, the other reaching back to feel Wanda's strong grip on your hip as she kept her gentle rhythm.

“You’re dripping you fucking whore.” Agatha sneered, teasing your opening with her fingers. Her grin was wolfish and unforgiving.

“Daddy.” You panted.

Her fingers pulled back to circle over your drowned clit, just the slick slip of her skin against yours was driving you insane. She was drinking in the desperate buck of your hips as the head of her cock brushed past your folds as Wanda kept a tight grip of you as she fucked your ass.

“Please Daddy, I wanna be full, I want both of you inside of me-”

Before you can finish begging, Agatha guides her strap into your entrance and your eyes roll to the back of your head, your skull resting back on Wanda’s shoulder as Agatha works her way inside of you, both of them finding the same rhythm with each other.

“You’re so lucky to have both of us, you know that right?” Wanda pants as she watches in awe at the way your body trembled as both women thrust inside of you at the same time.

“Fuck yes.” You gasped.

You could barely breathe, you could’ve cried at the sensation. Not fast or aimed enough to be pleasurable, but deep enough to make you crave them both. Every shift of Agatha’s cock inside of you was a reminder of the other one.

“You act like a whore you get treated like a whore, is that why you did this?” Agatha asks, leaning down between thrusts to lick at your nipples teasingly while her hand dipped between your legs and kindly circled your clit. You nod, earning you a swift sharp thrust into your pussy making you whine in pleasure as they sped up their adjoined rhythm. “You’re nothing but our filthy whore, this is what you deserve, this is what you were made for, having all your holes filled like this.”

“I’m so full.” You whined, feeling the low thrum of an orgasm approaching, but every time you felt it you couldn’t chase it because of a different sensation on your body.

“Not full enough.” Agatha growled into your skin, her fingers tracing your lips before you allowed her in, your tongue immediately sucking at her fingers. “My god, you’re so fucking dirty.” She breathed, looking at the way your body was crumbling under the pressure. Agatha held your hips and started bucking up harder into you and you keened at the rough treatment, but once Wanda matched the relentless pace, the feeling had your eyes squeezed shut.

“You let us do whatever we want to you. Good little girl.” Wanda praised as you kept getting louder and louder, no longer caring what you sounded like. They were both working in and out, but once Agatha’s fingers found your clit again and rubbed tight pressured circles against it, you felt your body untense as the pain subsided and all you could feel was an intense amount of pleasure. But it was too much, there was no way you would ever catch up to the orgasm that kept building and fading.

“We’re not going to stop. You can be a good whore and come on our cocks now, or you can take it for another hour, we can do this all day.” Agatha spat, getting impatient with your disobedience, but Wanda traced love hearts on your back and the combination of the two relaxed you.

“Breathe, just take it honey.” Wanda whispered, and it took a second for your brain to kick into gear again, to fight the fuzziness that was stopping your orgasm.

“Oh fuck Mommy I’m-” You gasped, “Daddy please can I-”

“Oh I know.” You could hear the smile on Wanda’s face.

“You better come like a filthy little whore all over our cocks,” Agatha ordered, rocking you up and down until your brain went blank and the sheer height of it took over. “Now.”

You felt like you were there forever, eyes squeezed shut, nails dug into both womens arms. After a few more thrusts and circles of your clit, it all crashed down. Burning hot pleasure ripped up your spine in controllable waves, the heat between your legs spreading everywhere. They didn’t pull out until you were jerking violently, painfully aware of how tight you were clenched around you.

They gave you a minute before warning you that they were pulling out and you fell against the mattress in a pathetic sweat, your body shaking as the two women took off their harnesses and sat enveloping you between them.

Agatha was the first to get you water, her harsher techniques meaning her aftercare was incredibly important to her. She helped you sip it slowly while Wanda cradled you in her arms.

“You know we’re thankful you were two timing us, right?” Agatha laughed, kissing your sodden forehead, brushing your wet hair from your face.

“So wait, I don't have to choose?” You say in a thankful shock, leaning into both women.

“Haven’t we just proved you can have both of us.” Wanda said, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrow raised as the flush of your cheeks.

“Like we said, you’re ours now.” Agatha smirked, twirling your hair around her fingers. “Come on let's get you cleaned up.”

“Give me a minute, I don’t think I can walk.”

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cyberclouddream · 2 months ago

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Types of Betrayals and the 12th House

Sun in the 12th House

self-betrayal, neglecting personal identity in favor of others

putting on a false persona to fit in

unacknowledged talents, not pursuing creative passions due to fear of judgment

abandoning leadership roles due to self-doubt

being overlooked for achievements or efforts

partners undermining self-worth or ambitions

hidden competitors, friends or colleagues sabotaging success

feeling unsupported by family in personal ambitions

public shaming or criticism

Moon in the 12th House

friends or family hiding true feelings or secrets

self-neglect, like ignoring emotional needs

trust issues

subconscious sabotaging

disillusioned by family or nurturing figures

inconsistent emotional support

manipulative partners

isolation or feeling emotionally abandoned by loved ones

mood swings

Mercury in the 12th House

miscommunication, or through lies or misrepresentation

stolen ideas

gossip or harmful rumors

hidden agendas

self-censorship

sharing secrets with those who shouldn’t know

receiving poor advice from trusted sources

signing contracts without full disclosure, deceptive agreements

Venus in the 12th House

infidelity or secret affairs

one-sided love or emotional neglect

partners misuse financial resources

hidden jealousy

feeling reduced to an object of desire rather than valued

love scams

being ostracized by a social group

artistic suppression

lack of appreciation

Mars in the 12th House

passive-aggressiveness or indirect hostility from close relations

friends not supporting you in times of need, maybe they compete instead of supporting

repressed anger

health neglect

hidden animosity from acquaintances

fighting battles or challenges alone

misguided aggression, like lashing out at those who haven’t wronged you

holding grudges that lead to isolation

colleagues sabotage your projects or ambitions

Jupiter in the 12th House

overindulgence that harms well-being

isolation from knowledge

overconfidence

judgmental attitudes

secret limitations that hinder success

misplaced faith

ignoring significant truths due to complacency

philosophical conflicts, betrayals through differing values

betrayals from mentors or spiritual leaders

Saturn in the 12th House

unspoken fears that lead to isolation

humiliation due to one’s past

burdens from unsaid expectations from others

others limiting your self-expression

others questioning your authority or competency behind your back

sacrificing personal goals for the sake of others

friends or family compromising your public image

secret resentment or holding onto grudges

Uranus in the 12th House

sudden ending in relationships without warning

disruption of stability, like sudden changes in life leading to chaos

deceitful friendships, not as supportive as they appear

neglecting personal freedom

feeling misunderstood due to eccentricities or uniqueness

no support when you rebel against conformity

fear of change

betrayal through unorthodox relationship dynamics

Neptune in the 12th House

illusions of trust

hidden addictions or unhealthy habits

living in denial regarding relationships

victim mentality

losing faith in spiritual beliefs or mentors due betrayal or doubt

confusion about personal limits leading to exploitation

escapism

others using emotional manipulation

Pluto in the 12th House

through power struggles and hidden manipulation

fear of transformation

disguised motivations

obsession with loss

emotional scars

hidden control issues, like others may exert unseen control over your personal choices

powerlessness, feeling victimized in situations that call for action

fear of intimacy

self-destructive patterns

Rahu/North Node in the 12th House

believing that you’re more than you are, illusions of grandeur

hidden envy from others or yourself

secret addictions

escapism

victim mentality

destructive fantasies

evasion of responsibility

friends using deceit to gain favor or control

disregarding boundaries, yours or others

Ketu/South Node in the 12th House

unconscious withdrawal from personal connections

past conflicts surfacing unexpectedly

denial of reality

fear of intimacy

confusion about identity

holding onto toxic relationships

overlooking self-care

friends who are secretly resentful or envious

feeling disconnected from spiritual communities

Black Moon Lilith in the 12th House

suppressed desires

fear of rejection

undermined feminine energy, like not valuing your power or intuition

using guilt to control or influence other

not confronting truths about yourself

obsession with control

allowing past experiences to dictate current behavior

secretive relationships

Chiron in the 12th House

seeking help from those unqualified or deceptive guides

not seeking help due to pride or shame

being exposed to harm due to not showing true self

fear of abandonment

wounds from isolation or solitude during challenging times

behaviors that prevent healing

not recognizing the source of emotional pain

#astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astrology signs #astronotes #jupiter in the 12th house #saturn in the 12th house #mercury in the 12th house #venus in the 12th house #sun in the 12th house #moon in the 12th house #mars in the 12th house #12th house

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yuwuta · 9 months ago

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CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF (I MEAN I COULD, BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO?) — JJK BOYS + TOO HOT

featuring. gojo, okkotsu, choso, itadori, fushiguro

content, warnings. playing too hot with the jjk boys—(too hot is a party game in which two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves; the first person to touch their partner loses), making out, tongue sucking, uhhh slight predator/prey in yuuta’s oops, they’re a bunch of losers to be honest, there’s a word for the thing yuuji does but i don't know it lolol

word count. 1.6k

SATORU GOJO Satoru is prideful, but you also know that he is nothing if not handsy, borderline clingy on his worst days. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, he’s rarely not touching you when you’re in his proximity, and when you aren’t, he closes that gap—so you’re confident that he’ll lose this game.

And he does. It takes ninety-two seconds for Satoru to put his hands on you; his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue. You yelp in surprise, try to take in your victory, taunt that you’ve won, but Satoru’s playing an entirely different game now. “I know, I lost,” he pushes his thumbs at the corners of your mouth, parting your lips and staring at your open mouth. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, drinks in your pliant expression, the soft touch of your fingers around his wrists, the feel of your body sinking below him, and he smiles, “But I want something else right now. Indulge me?”

You tap at his right wrist and he moves his thumbs away from your lips, stroking against the soft skin of your cheeks instead so you can speak, “You lost, you’re not supposed to make demands.”

“Take pity on a rookie like me, won’t you?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to kiss your cheek, then closer, just below your bottom lip, “Please, sweets?”

“Depends on what you want,” you pout, but your words are strained against Satoru’s kisses. He grins, guiding a thumb back to your lips, this time pressing past the barrier of your lips until they’re wrapped around his digit, smile turning cheshire when he feels you sucking, “I have a different game we can play instead.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU “Ah, ah—” you pull away from Yuuta, much to his dismay, pulling the hem of your shirt from his grasp, “That counts as touching. You’re not supposed to touch, Yuuta.”

He’s looking at you intensely, gaze bordering on predatory, slow blinking with blown-out pupils. He nods shallowly, moving his hand from where it was to your side, palm pressing into the couch next to your thigh; it lets him that much closer to you, the tip of his nose grazing yours, you can feel his laborious breaths tickle your lips. Yuuta tilts his head ever so slightly and pauses, blinks, waits—for you to make a sound, for you to tell him no again, for you to run.

You don’t. He shifts his weight and positions his other hand to rest at your side, caging you between his arms, slotting you underneath his gaze. You curl underneath him, backing up until you’re pressed against the arm of the couch, until Yuuta’s crawled to slot his knee between your legs. You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him. He dips his head into your collarbone, leaves a deceptively soft kiss there before nosing up the expanse of your exposed skin and sinking his teeth into your neck.

Yuuta feels you tense underneath him, body going rigid in a moment of surprise, and then slacking with an exhaled moan, like a bitten bunny. Reflexively, your hands find purchase in his hair, and Yuuta nips over the tender skin, and smiles, “Caught you.”

CHOSO KAMO “You’re nervous,” you conclude, pulling away from the shallow kiss Choso gave you.

Beside you, he’s flushed, a hand coming up to reach at the back of his neck as he replies, “I don’t know why,” he exhales, “It’s just... weird to not touch you. I have to think about not touching you, and that means I have to think, which tends to make me, you know... nervous.”

You giggle, leaning in closer to him, careful not to touch; careful to keep your hips raised above his, even as you straddle him, keep your arms and hands at your sides even though the instinct is to wrap them around Choso’s neck. He doesn’t pull back, even though he should; you like that he doesn’t. “You don’t like to think about me?”

“No—no! Not like that,” he’s too loud for the proximity, sighing in embarrassment shortly after; you’re too close, way too close, and he’s not supposed to touch, but he wants to—Choso doesn’t like this feeling of restraint, of constriction; it’s too close to when he had a hopeless crush on you, to when he was pining and praying you’d spare him the time of day. Isn’t the point of dating that he gets to have you? To touch you, to hold you—to not hold back?

“Because I like to think about you,” you admit, leaning in even closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Choso’s neck—and he whines, “I think about you a lot, Choso.”

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear. Choso’s certain he’s going to rip a hole in his jeans with how taut he’s pulling them between his fists. This isn’t fair—nothing about this is fair. “I don’t want to play anymore,” Choso whines, eyes screwing shut when you suck a hickey onto his collar.

“But we’ve only just started,” you giggle against his skin, “And nobody’s won yet.”

Choso bites his lips, his knuckles are sore, his resolve is weak, and you smell good, you feel good—and he can’t do this. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care; he didn’t make you yours to try and stay away from you. So, Choso gives in, unwinds his fists, places one hand on your waist, and the other against your back, pulling you flush against him, and burying his face in your neck.

“There, I lose,” he grumbles, not caring for your laughter reverberating against his chest, “Now I can touch you as much as I want.”

YUUJI ITADORI “Th—this isn’t fair,” you tremble, attempting to move away from his kisses, but you’re caged in between Yuuji and the wall. There’s nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to grab purchase onto but Yuuji—nothing to do but lose.

“I didn’t hear any rules against this,” he feigns innocence, suckling at your skin, “Think it’s fair game.”

You close your eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, but it’s hard when all you can see, all you can feel is Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face.

Yuuji moans when he feels your tongue against his, kisses you back fervently, swirling his tongue across yours and into the cavity of your mouth. He inhales all your breaths, makes it impossible for you to do anything but succumb to his kiss, to swallow his moans, to take everything he gives you. You didn’t expect Yuuji to have this much resolve—you’d anticipated a short, cute round of a silly party game, but you should have known better; Yuuji has never lost a challenge before, and you were naive, at best, to think otherwise.

Predictably, it’s you that lets go first, whining when Yuuji sucks on your tongue, hands trembling and reaching to hold him, to cling to him as some kind of recourse, unable to squirm or move anywhere else. That doesn’t stop him—Yuuji only sucks harder, only forces more moans out of you until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and bending your knees, weak.

Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO It’s the kind of thing he usually turns down; cliché, fruitless, and unnecessarily time-consuming; but it’s you, so he makes the exception. You’re too eager, positioning yourself to sit on your hands, your legs folded under your knees, peering up at him from where he’s sat slack against the couch, and he thinks you look awful cute on your knees for him.

“Okay, ready?” you smile, “Three, two—” but Megumi already knows his plan, already has his lips on yours before you can say “one,” drinking in your surprised yelp and greedily licking against your tongue when you part your lips to kiss him back. He turns his body towards you slightly, taking advantage of his height and position to bully you into chasing him upwards, to push his tongue into your mouth with ease.

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him. It’s when you pull away, that Megumi decides he’s played along long enough; when he can see your chest swell with heaving breaths, see your hands in your lap, neck craned and spit-slick lips that drive him to reach for you. He’s less than gentle, hands finding purchase on your hips, and forcefully pulling you into his lap, ignoring your yelping, choosing to turn them into moans when he sinks his teeth into your neck. Megumi licks, and bites, and bites, and bites, until he’s certain he’s left a mark, until he feels your hands tugging at his hair and giving him permission to splay his palms against your back and buck you forward.

“I lose,” he hums, soothing over raw bitten skin with open-mouthed kisses, “So, how do you wanna punish me?”

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Men With Big Noses

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

You accidentally let on to Hiromi Higuruma that you find his big nose sexy-- so he shows you exactly what he can do with it.

Warnings: 18+ as always, Higuruma is nearly face-sat to death and would absolutely die a happy man.

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"Why have you poured me another glass of wine?"

"Why not? You've had a long week. I've had a long week. And I don't want to finish the bottle alone, so..." Hiromi pressed the glass into your hand, planting a deliberately sloppy kiss on your cheek as you laughed, slapping him away, "Drink up."

Feigning disgruntlement, you mumbled into your wine as you shot Hiromi a side-eye.

He loped, slim and wiry, to the windows, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully, one hand in his pocket as he stared out over the Tokyo skyline. Your relationship was new, only just into the early stages of physical intimacy, but you caught yourself looking him up and down over the rim of your wineglass.

It was his brain that had attracted you at first. Fiercely intelligent, Hiromi appeared to see straight through you, and adore you anyway. His passion certainly wasn't limited only to his career. He was dry and sharp, but conversely so mellow at points. He kept you guessing, but never about how he felt about you. You had never found a partner so unusually thrilling as him.

But you couldn't deny...there was a certain something about how he looked that made the gears deep in your belly whir, puzzled and magnetic in your attraction towards him. But you couldn't work out what that something was.

You approached him slowly, breathing in the heady fumes of your wine as you appraised him; his eyes, and the way they turned into pools of pitch black when he looked at you? No. His fine-boned hands, so articulate and clever, that you wondered what else they could be clever with? No, not that either. His body, lithe and slim but deceptively strong? You sighed, unable to puzzle it out. You were halfway through your third glass of wine now, feeling loose, warm, intimate--

"I can't work out what it is that you find attractive about me."

You jumped, your remaining wine sloshing as he turned to you, his sloped eyes sparkling with curiosity, inquisitive and dark. You gaped for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you swore he had read your thoughts, and said the first thing that came to your head--

"Your nose." Hiromi snorted into his wineglass, hand over his eyes now as he shook with mirth. His hand lowered, fingering his big, hooked nose, and he laughed again.

"Be serious," he chastised. Your inhibition had abandoned you, emboldened by the alcohol.

"No, I...I mean it. There's something sort of...sexy about it. Men with big noses."

"Oh?" He approached you slowly, hand still in his pocket, a slow, sloping walk, "All men with big noses? Is that a kink?" Oh, those eyes. Dark and glowing, like little coals in the dark, and looking at you like that, you felt heat rush through you, so scrutinised--

"Or-- or maybe-- just yours I think. A you-specific kink. I wonder what you could do with that nose, other than-- other than--" You flushed, downing the rest of your wine. He was close now, and your skin felt electric. Not breaking eye-contact as he stared into you, he slowly reached out to take your empty glass, draining his own now and placing them both on the table.

Pulling you in with one hand on the small of your back, and the other creeping up the side of your face, he leaned over you. Still teasing you, his big eyes hooded, he ghosted the tip of his nose over the side of your neck, tracing shapes against your pulse point.

You pressed one hand against his chest, the other into his hair as you shivered.

"--other than?" he prompted. He laughed again, rich and bold, "My nose," he scoffed, "Where would you like my nose?" You blushed, mortified, and tried to shove him away for teasing you, but he held on tight, rubbing his nose gently against yours now. He kissed you, leaning you backwards, deep and convicted in his hold on you.

Your head wasn't swooping just with the wine now. Plaiting your fingers behind his neck, you suddenly didn't feel embarrassed to tell him what you wanted. You pulled away from his kiss, and he leaned his forehead against yours, nose to nose, as he stared into your eyes, your gaze shy and averted.

"Between...between my legs, maybe." You regretted it the moment you said it, hands up to slap over your eyes, cupping your red-hot cheeks, and Hiromi still didn't let go of you, his nose and lips pressing soft, tipsy kisses to your decolletage. He whispered to you, only deepening your regret.

"You could sit on my nose, if you like. Undressed, obviously." You felt his hips pressed against you, and felt his cock against you, now half-hard and growing--

You nearly imploded, stammering, "Oh please, no man actually likes that. Face-sitting is just one of those stupid things you joke about. Men don't actually like giving women oral," you scoffed, cynical and embarrassed. Hiromi raised his eyebrows, releasing you now, looking mildly offended.

"Oh dear. Another sceptic. Were your other boyfriends that bad?" You swatted him with a cloth.

"Pretend I never said anything!" You shouted in from the kitchen, "Forget about it! I'm going for a shower. There's more wine on the side if you want it."

You honestly considered drowning yourself in the shower. You'd barely even got past heavy make-out sessions, and you'd just told him you wanted his nose between your legs, you could just die of shame--

Stepping out from the shower and into your bedroom, you squeaked to find Hiromi lying on his back on your bed, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, and as he saw you, he smiled loosely and rubbed one of your pillows over his face.

"What are...what are you doing?"

"Polishing your seat, of course."

You melted against the wall, mortified, gripping your towel in one hand and covering your eyes with the other. You heard slow footsteps creep up behind you, long-fingered hands pulling you against a hard torso, feeling Hiromi's nose rub behind your ear. Despite yourself, your eyes fluttered closed, wanting him.

"I think you'd like it," Hiromi insisted, voice low and convincing, "and I like it when you tell me what you want. It's...bold. Honest. Sexy." You moaned softly as he pressed into you from behind, his cock hard and insistent against your body, and he loosened the front of your towel to snake his clever fingers to your breast, fingers brushing it softly at first before cupping and giving an appreciative squeeze.

"So please sit on my nose. And the rest of my face." You bit your lip...and slowly nodded. You felt warm air huff out of Hiromi's nose behind your ear, "Good girl."

Spinning you round, Hiromi pulled you in for a deep kiss, the wine heavy on both of your tongues as he slipped his against yours, probing, curious. You accepted warmly, your hands tracing down to untuck his shirt from his trousers, your hand slipping flat against his abdomen and trail of dark, wiry hair, and Hiromi shivered, tongue trembling against yours.

He fell back onto the bed, pulling your legs up to straddle his lap, panting and kissing the sides of your throat as you unbuttoned his shirt, your fingers gliding over the taut muscles of his shoulders in appreciation. He nuzzled you, hooked nose rubbing over the shell of your ear, unintentionally bucking his cock up against your unclothed sex as your fingers grazed his nipples in their exploration of his torso.

"I can't wait...I want to taste you," he insisted, breathless, his eyes dipped and flinty as he fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him, but holding you upright by the hips. Suddenly shy, so aware of your body with those smouldering eyes looking up at you, Hiromi sensed your hesitation and grabbed your knees, scooting you up his body so you were straddling his upper chest.

With your legs parted, you felt his breath roll over your folds, now so wet with your arousal, and Hiromi stared up at you, seeming grave in his devoted assessment of your face as he traced his hands up your thighs, two fingers slipping idly between your legs to rub a long stroke from entrance to clit and back again. He sighed, thrilled to feel you plant a hand on his abdomen, grounding yourself as he started to rub smooth circles over your clit.

"You're perfect, and those other guys didn't deserve you," he insisted, slipping his fingers teasingly close to your entrance as you let out a breathy moan, and Hiromi stared at his fingers, scientific in his appreciation of how your arousal was glazed over them.

Raising his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, Hiromi stopped, considering. He placed his wet fingers over your towel instead, gripping your hips.

"No," he puzzled, "I want to taste you straight from the source." You squeaked as he dragged your knees and hips upwards again, your pussy now hovering directly over his face. Hiromi lifted his face, looking at you with a glint in his eyes, "Sit."

You hesitated, and Hiromi pressed his nose up, nuzzling it between your folds and pressing it firmly against your clit, holding your hips tightly as you jolted and gasped, never realising that nose could feel so good on your aching core. Thighs trembling, you lowered your weight until you sat directly on Hiromi's nose, mouth and chin.

Hiromi got to work like a starving man, groaning with desire as he nuzzled his nose and mouth between your puffy folds, his nose rubbing firmly over your clit as his tongue sank as far as it could into your hole, and you cried out, gripping his hair tightly with one fist, and grasping his hand on your hip with another.

As the firm tip of his nose rubbed insistently on your clit, making you burn with pleasure, you involuntarily ground your pussy down onto his face, and mewled when his shaky moan vibrated through you. Hiromi began to move your hips above him, encouraging you to hump his mouth and nose while his tongue alternated between dipping into you, and flicking against your clit as Hiromi sucked it into his mouth.

Your pleasure building, your cries and the hand grasping his hair becoming more and more urgent, Hiromi squeezed his rigid cock through his trousers, determined not to embarrass himself by cumming untouched while you humped his face. But as precum leaked through his trousers, wet on his thigh, Hiromi was drunk with the taste of you, sweet and natural, and he felt his cock throbbing as he neared his release.

Hiromi rocked your hips urgently against his face, his nose creating a constant alternating pressure on your clit, and you felt your belly tighten, pressing yourself down on his nose in a desperate need to cum, babbling his name in sweet praise.

With one last determined nuzzle against your clit, you shook, waves of pressure breaking through your whole lower body and Hiromi moaned, hips bucking against the air as he tasted and smelled you, overwhelmed by the authentic intimacy of the moment, feeling streams of cum soaking his boxers as he came completely untouched.

You moaned, short little mewls as you came down from your high. Gathering yourself, you shifted yourself down onto Hiromi's chest, looking down at him, blushing and concerned. You had never seen a man look so delighted with so much cum on his face. You were baffled, and of a mind to marry this man.

"Any man that actually likes women, sweetheart," Hiromi panted, dazed, "Would happily die like that."

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Love you Hiromi Higuruma, MWAH! 😌☕

#jjk #higuruma x reader #i love him #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma #higuruma smut #higuruma angst #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons

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lovesculprit · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 4 - Brat Taming with Ryomen Sukuna

contains: nsfw content:(mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (reader giving), v brief breath play, no aftercare, this is consensual but it might seem dubcon at times so i'll say that just in case

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc:- 7.3k (sorry!)

an: if you saw this yesterday, tumblr ate most of it, so this is the proper version with the full 7k

The air was tight in the luxurious chambers, thick with the underlying current of power and danger that came with being near Sukuna. You knew it all too well, and still, today you chose to push the boundaries.

Maybe it was the way his attention had moved onto others, or maybe you just wanted to feel his power focused on you. Either way, your defiance had earned you more than a few sharp looks throughout the day.

He had been so patient at first, watching as you deliberately disobeyed his orders, meeting his gaze with a silent challenge in your eyes. It was a dangerous game, one which you knew would only end one way, but a small part of you relished it, even craved the inevitable punishment that would follow.

Piqued annoyance now danced in his expression as you stood before him in the dark-lit room. The light of the candles danced across his tattooed skin as he leaned back into the cushion, arms over his chest, eyes intent on him-like some sort of predator sizing his prey.

"You have been bold today, haven't you?" Sukuna said, his voice low and almost a purr, but beneath the smoothness lay a warning. Crimson eyes shone with something dark and predatory as he watched you with unsettling intensity.

You didn't move, not as your heart raced in your chest; your eyes still flashed defiance, though it wavered a little under his gaze. Sukuna noticed, of course-he noticed everything.

He laughed darkly, the sound rumbling through the room like distant thunder. "What's the matter? The little concubine thinks she can disobey her king?" His voice was thick with mockery, but beneath it lay an unmistakable edge of menace.

You still wouldn't back down, even as the chill ran down your spine. "I'm not scared of you," you said-the defiance in your voice, a lot stronger than the quiver in your chest.

His smirk only widened, eyes glinting in the low light. "Is that so?" He pushed off from the cushions, standing to his full height in a fluid-almost graceful-movement. Sukuna towered over you, the suffocating presence of his power that made the air around you thick and heavy.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward you, each step echoing in the chamber as he never so much as broke gaze with yours. “You forget your place, little one. And I think it’s about time I remind you exactly who you answer to.”

You swallowed hard but stood your ground, your heart pounding while he drew nearer. He was testing you now, pushing the limits of your defiance, testing how far you would go. But you couldn't halt the quickening of your pulse in anticipation, the thrill coursing through you despite the danger.

Sukuna stopped only a few millimetres away from you, his giant physique casting a shadow over your small frame. He cocked his head as he reached out, crimson eyes shining with dark humour, and brushed one of his hands against your cheek, the touch feather light, deceptive.

"You've been a brat all day," he mused, the soft low tone of his voice a direct contrast to the danger swimming inside him. "And I'm not fond of brats. You know that."

And before he could receive a reaction from you, the other hand shot out, clutching at your chin in a firm grip, making you look up at him. His touch wasn't gentle anymore; it was commanding, dominant, a silent reminder of who was in charge here.

"You really think you can challenge me?" His voice now a dark growl, his eyes narrowing as he watched you struggle to hold his gaze. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, teasing, almost mocking, as he leaned down closer. "You forget who I am, don't you?"

You shivered, but the stubborn fire in your eyes remained, even as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing against your lip until you parted them with a soft gasp; he smirked, clearly amused despite himself.

“I could break you,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous as his lips hovered just above yours. “Make you beg for me. But I can also make you wait… draw it out until you remember who’s in control.”

The heat between your bodies flared and he held you there, so close yet still out of reach. The tension was palpable, a heady mix of desire and fear as the resolve within you started to crumble under the fierce stare that bound you against your will to him.

When he finally moved, it was with brutal precision. Sukuna spun you around, pressing your front to the cool wall of the chamber with ease, one hand tangled in your hair as he pulled your head back slightly. "You wanted my attention, didn't you?" he said, his voice a dangerous whisper in your ear as his hot breath danced across your skin, his hand trailing down your back. “Well, now you have it.”

You gasped, your body arching instinctively into his touch as his hand slid lower, gripping your hips possessively. “Don’t think for a second that you can get away with this behaviour” he growled, his voice a dangerous promise as his fingers dug into your flesh.

Sukuna yanked your hips back against him, his body pressing firmly against yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re going to regret testing me,” he whispered darkly, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hand slid around to your front, teasing you just enough "Now," he growled huskily, the scent of dominance emanating s he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your neck and nipping the sensitive skin there to set fireworks, something he could so easily do with a mere touch. "Beg me to put you back in your place."

You knew he was playing with you, waiting for you to submit again, but you couldn't help how your body betrayed you-the pooling of heat so low in your stomach as his words fired up something deep inside. Caged in his grip, cornered against the wall, you still couldn’t refrain from pushing once more.

“No.”

“No? Okay.” he chuckled darkly, his tone shifting from playful to deadly serious. “Strip.”

You briefly turned your head and looked at him, unsure and as you hesitated, he added with a wicked smirk, “Do it or I’ll do it for you.”

The thought of him tearing the delicate fabric from your body sent a thrill through you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you felt the pull of his dominance wrapping around you like a shroud. Your heart raced with the thrill of the challenge, but a deeper part of you—a primal instinct—began to ache for his approval.

With a deep breath, you decided to relent, knowing that fighting him any longer would only provoke him further. You turned your back to him and slowly began to slide the silk off your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down your arms. The dress pooled at your feet, baring your skin to him. The cool air brushed against you, sending goosebumps cascading across your body as you stood looking vulnerable before him.

Yet despite that, his eyes never wavered to admire your body, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before but right now he didn’t seem the least bit interested.

You faced him, expecting praise or the usual good girl, but he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, making your heart race with both anticipation and confusion. Sukuna’s gaze was piercing, roaming over your exposed form, and you could feel the intensity of his scrutiny igniting something deep within you—a desperate yearning for his approval.

You swallowed hard, the heat pooling in your stomach igniting a mixture of shame and desire. Sukuna was playing with you, aware of your need for his validation, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of submission and rebellion.

“Please,” you whispered, desperate to shift the balance back in your favour, to spark that glimmer of approval in his eyes. “I just wanted—”

“What?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, that smirk still firmly in place. “Attention? Affection? Or perhaps you wanted to remind me how unruly you can be?”

The words were both exhilarating and terrifying, as you recognized the game he was playing. Sukuna knew exactly what you craved and was determined to toy with it, twisting your desires into something that left you vulnerable.

“You should know by now,” he continued, leaning closer until you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “My favourite concubine doesn’t act like this.” he whispers as his hand cups your face. “She knows her place—knows how to please me.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the subtle reminder of your position stoking the embers of your longing. You craved his approval, his affection, and each taunt felt like a jagged edge against your pride. But the harder he pushed, the greater the need for his acknowledgment became.

"Look at you, practically begging for it," he teased, his voice low as his fingers brushed over the uncovered skin of you. "But you'll learn, in time, that defiance only leads to disappointment."

With a predatory grace, Sukuna shifted, his gaze never leaving yours as he sat down on the edge of his royal bed, the dark fabric of the covers contrasting sharply against his skin. The way he was sitting-relaxed, yet commanding-sent a shiver of anticipation running down your spine.

"Come here," he ordered; it was an order reverberating with a sternness that was impossible to disregard. Your heart racing, you moved closer until the space between you two was charged with tension. "Get over my knee," he said, the corners of his mouth raising into a sly grin. The words were spoken as though this was a test, a test of how well you'd do.

The heat in your cheeks flared as you hesitated, caught between pride and the undeniable desire to submit. But the need for his approval was overwhelming, and as you moved closer, the thrill of obedience battled against your rebellious spirit.

Sukuna’s gaze held you captive, eyes glimmering with amusement as he patted his knee, the gesture both inviting and authoritative. “I won't ask twice," he warned, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard as you took a deep breath and realised it was your call. You leaned over reluctantly, laying across his lap and positioning yourself, your hands resting on the coolness of the sheets-a sharp contrast to the heat emitting from your body.

“There we go” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he rested a hand on your back, keeping you in place.

As you settled over him, a rush of vulnerability coursed through you, yet beneath it lay a profound sense of longing for his approval, making it impossible to feel anything but exhilarated. In that moment, you knew there would be no escaping the power he held over you/

His hand travelled further up your thigh, fingers teasingly close to your ass but never quite crossing that line. It was an intentionally deliberate choice, placing you on edge, and you could feel that anticipation, coiling in your belly like a spring, ready to burst.

"Remember," he warned, his voice dropping to that low growl again, "Just because I'm kinder to you than the rest does not mean I won't punish disobedience." You swallowed hard as your heart began to pound with what was to come. You could feel the power dynamic shifting, the game the two of you were playing getting heavier with every passing second.

Sukuna's hand came down sharp against your ass, the loud smack reverberating through the room and slapping you back into reality. A gasp escaped your lips, half in surprise, half in delight at the sting that suddenly fired into your skin. It was a delicious concoction of pain and pleasure, which left you short of breath as you adjusted to the sensations that swirled around you.

"Count," he instructed, his voice firm, yet laced with underlying humour. "Loudly. I want to hear you."

"One," you exhaled the word as it tumbled from your lips, your heart racing wildly as you fought to steady it. The thrill of it all, mixed with your need for his approval, had you wanting each strike more than the last.

Sukuna's hand lingered on the curve of your ass for a moment before falling again in a sharp slap, the sound echoing off stone walls. You gasped again, a mixture of shock and thrill racing through you as the sting blossomed into a warm ache.

“Two,” you gasped, as you fought against the swell of emotions within you.

He lifted his hand, but this time he held back just before the strike, making you tense in anticipation. The sudden hesitation had you bracing for impact, but then he only gently smoothed his palm flat against your skin, teasing you with his warmth.

But before you could even acknowledge it, a sudden one came down on your other ass cheek.

“Three,” you managed to say, voice trembling slightly, the sensation catching you off guard as he switched up the rhythm.

“Good,” he replied, and the next strike came almost immediately after, catching you off guard. “Four!” you exclaimed, the sound of his hand meeting your skin sending shockwaves through your body.

He continued this pattern, alternating between sharp slaps and moments of tension where he would simply tease you, leaving you breathless and on edge. Sometimes, he would deliver a strike that felt harder than the last, and other times he’d pull back, letting you feel only the ghost of his hand as your body quivered in anticipation.

You felt yourself teetering on the brink of overwhelming sensations as you counted up to ten, each strike igniting a fiery mixture of pleasure and pain that coursed through your body. Each impact left you breathless, the rhythm of his hand striking you creating a melody of desire that echoed in your mind.

“Eleven” you finally gasped, the word escaping your lips as you savoured the ache that lingered in your skin.

Sukuna paused, letting the silence stretch between you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back, assessing and possessive. The air was thick with tension, and you could sense the power dynamics shifting once more.

“Are you sorry?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, sending a thrill down your spine.

You bit your lip, a mix of defiance and longing swirling within you as you processed his question. The sharp sting of his earlier strikes still pulsed against your skin. The heat emanating from your skin, a reminder of your rebelliousness, yet the way he held you—firm, possessive—made your heart race with exhilaration.

“Sorry?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. You could see the smirk playing on his lips, the amusement dancing in his eyes. The challenge was palpable; he wanted you to say it, to acknowledge your submission in a way that would give him satisfaction. Yet all that came out of your mouth was…

“I don’t know yet-”

“Do you even know what you want?” he pressed, his voice smooth and taunting. “Because I can give you everything, but you seem intent on making this harder for yourself.”

“Do you want my approval?” he asked, his voice a sultry caress that made your heart race. The question hung between you, laden with implications that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know I could give it to you if you just admit what you truly want.”

As if sensing the conflict within you, he slowly guided you off his lap, the absence of his warmth leaving you yearning for more. You hesitated for a moment, caught in the limbo of desire and pride, before he leaned back slightly, a glimmer of challenge in his gaze. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, the authority in his voice making it impossible to resist.

The command was a double-edged sword, igniting a rush of eagerness and vulnerability in your chest. There was something intoxicating about being at his mercy, and even as the thought of submission sent pangs of uncertainty through you, the need for his love and approval surged stronger than your pride.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze heavy on you as you knelt before him, the coolness of the floor contrasting sharply with the warmth that enveloped your body. Sukuna watched you, a predator sizing up his prey, and you could feel the intensity of his scrutiny as you knelt there, heart racing and breath shallow.

“Good girl” he praised, the words wrapping around you like silk, soothing yet igniting a fire in your core. “This is where you belong—submissive, yearning for my affection.” His voice was low and sultry, and you could hear the satisfaction lacing his tone as he took in your posture, his eyes gleaming with approval. “But you have to earn it. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitated, the vulnerability of your position mingling with your desire to please him. “I want… I want your approval,” you murmured, the admission spilling from your lips almost involuntarily. “Your love”

His smirk widened, revealing a hint of satisfaction that made your heart flutter. “And how do you plan to earn it?” he asked, his voice smooth and seductive, coaxing you into deeper submission. “Show me how desperate you really are for my love.”

With deliberate slowness, he shrugged off his robe, letting the luxurious fabric cascade down his broad shoulders and pool around his waist. The movement revealed the powerful contours of his body, muscles coiling under his skin, each movement exuding confidence and dominance. You couldn’t help but feel your breath hitch in your throat as you drank in the sight of him—strikingly captivating and impossibly alluring. His cock sprung free, dauntingly big, thick and girthy with a prominent vein running along the underside of it.

As you positioned yourself at his feet, your heart raced with anticipation. You looked up at him, and in that moment, you could see the mixture of dominance and desire reflected in his gaze. You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, and the thought of it sent a shiver of excitement coursing through you.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “show me just how much you crave my approval.” The challenge ignited something deep within you, urging you to submit fully to his will.

You reached forward, taking his cock in your hand at first, feeling the heat radiate from it as your fingers wrapped around his length. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, awakening every nerve ending and amplifying the intensity of your need. You could feel his gaze boring into you, an intoxicating mix of desire and power, and the weight of it only fueled your eagerness.

Sukuna watched you intently, his expression a mixture of approval and amusement as you began to stroke him slowly.

You leaned in closer, your breath hitching as you pressed soft kisses along his shaft, savouring the taste of his skin and the intoxicating musk that enveloped you. With each kiss, you felt a thrill of exhilaration at your submission, and the thought of earning his approval made you more eager to please.

“Keep going,” he encouraged, his voice low and demanding.

You could hear the satisfaction in his tone, and it spurred you on as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him with fervent devotion. Every now and then you’d pull back and focus on the tip, only to resume taking his cock in as deep as you could, using your hand for what you couldn’t fit. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you—his dominance and your willingness to submit completely to him.

As you continued, you could feel his hand find its way to your hair, fingers tangling in it as he guided your movements, controlling the pace with a delicious authority. The mix of his control and your surrender sent waves of heat pooling in your core, and you could feel the ache of longing building within you.

The warmth of his body radiated against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you as you leaned in further, taking him deeper. Each careful stroke of your tongue was met with a soft, approving grunt from Sukuna, his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding you with just the right amount of pressure. You revelled in the way he took charge, the way he made you feel both desired and utterly submissive.

“Such a good little pet,” he praised, his voice smooth yet commanding, sending tremors of excitement through you. “You’re desperate for my touch, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it, the words igniting something primal within you, and you nodded as best you could with him filling your mouth. The mixture of your eagerness and his control heightened the stakes, pushing you to give him everything you had.

His hips shifted slightly, guiding your rhythm as he pressed deeper, the sensation making your head spin. You could feel the tension building within you, a mix of longing and excitement as you became more attuned to his desires. The slick warmth of your mouth enveloped him, and each movement you made was deliberate, an offering of your devotion.

“More,” he demanded, his voice thick with pleasure as he tilted his head back slightly. “I want to hear you.”

You moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his skin, eliciting another low growl from deep within him. The noise made your core throb with need, the desperate ache for him only growing stronger as you lost yourself in the rhythm of your actions.

He couldn’t help but want to set the pace himself, the next time you went to pull back, he guided your head further, forcing you to take him deeper until your nose was pressed up against his pubes. You sputtered, unable to stop yourself from gagging as he held you there for a moment before pulling back and letting you pull off and catch your breath. You coughed a little, a string of saliva connecting from his cock to your lips.

His hand tightened in your hair, gently pulling your head up for a moment so he could meet your gaze. “Look at me,” he commanded, his eyes darkened with lust and satisfaction. “I want to see your pretty eyes.”

As you surrendered fully to him, the heat pooling in your core became unbearable, a delicious reminder of just how much you craved his approval. The world outside faded further, leaving only the intoxicating connection between you—his power and your submission—and you knew that you would do anything to keep that connection alive.

You gazed up at him, his commanding presence making your heart race. As you took him deeper, this time by your own choice, a rush of exhilaration surged through you, and with a playful impulse, you let your teeth graze lightly against his length. The sensation was meant to tease, to elicit a reaction, but the moment you did, a sharp intake of breath escaped him, followed by a sudden yank of your hair that pulled you away.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and warning, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours like a steel trap. “What did I say about behaving?” His voice was low, tinged with authority, but there was an unmistakable edge of desire laced within it. You felt a thrill race through you, the tension in the air thickening.

You looked up at him, trying to read the storm brewing in his eyes. His grip on your hair was firm yet controlled, a reminder of the power he wielded over you. The sharpness of his warning sent a jolt through you, igniting a mix of fear and excitement.

“I... I’m sorry,” you stammered, your breath shaky as you tried to regain your composure. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Do that once more and I won’t touch you again, I’ll give you to one of my men. Do you want that?”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the air, a reminder of the stakes involved. You could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but it was quickly replaced by a deep-seated need for his approval. The thought of disappointing him was far more terrifying than the idea of punishment.

“Now,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair but still leaning forward, his presence overwhelming, “Show me that you can be the good girl I know you can be.” There was an edge to his tone that made your stomach flip, a challenge wrapped in a promise.

Nodding slightly, you took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the delicate balance you had to maintain. You could do this. You could earn his affection and approval. You leaned in closer once more, eyes locked onto his, feeling the pulse of desire thrumming between you.

With renewed determination, you took him back into your mouth, moving slowly at first, allowing your tongue to swirl around him in languid strokes. You could feel the tension in the air, the silent understanding that every movement you made was a testament to your willingness to submit completely to him. You focused on doing it right, savouring the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched as you worked your mouth around him.

You couldn’t help but grin slightly as you ran your tongue along his shaft.

“You think this is funny?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive touch. “You think you’re in control here?” The amusement in his voice was gone, replaced with a low, simmering intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Sukuna yanked you up, pulling you to your feet with a force that left your heart racing. He spun you around again, pressing your back against the wall, his chest flush against your front as his hands roamed over your body. The roughness of his touch sent shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with the mix of pleasure and dominance that radiated from him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on to that defiance,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the full weight of his cock pressing against your stomach. “You’ll break eventually. You always do.”

Your body responded instinctively to his dominance as you clenched your thighs together. Sukuna was testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of submission, and you knew that the game you had started was far from over. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand as his other hand travelled down your body, his touch rough and demanding. His smirk widening as he saw the way your chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, your defiance crumbling under the weight of his dominance.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice thick with lust and dominance. "To be at my mercy? To feel my power over you?"

You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with desire as Sukuna’s fingers danced over across your breasts, playfully rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them slightly, teasing you but never giving you the satisfaction you craved. He smirked, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed beneath him, the control he held over you absolute.

"You don’t get to decide when I reward you," he grumbled, "I do."

Sukuna’s hand tightened around your wrists, his grip firm but not painful as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me who you belong to," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, filled with an authority that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your defiance wavering under the weight of his dominance. "You," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. "I belong to you."

Sukuna’s lips crashed down on yours, the kiss rough and demanding, filled with the intensity of his dominance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a moan from your throat as he claimed your mouth with brutal precision. His hands explored your curves, gripping your hips, your thighs, your ass that was still sore, as if he was staking his claim on every inch of you.

With each deliberate breath, you steadied yourself, your heart racing as you mentally prepared for the brutal onslaught of his strength. You knew what was coming—the way he would thrust into you with a force that left you gasping, the raw power behind every movement. The pleasure and pain that would mingle into a heady mixture, overwhelming your senses until there was nothing left but him.

The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body aching for the release you knew only Sukuna could give. His fingers trailed down your back, a possessive touch that claimed you inch by inch, as if reminding you that you were his to do with as he pleased.

And then, without warning or any preparation he thrust into you with a brutal force that knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands clung to his shoulders, struggling to maintain your balance as Sukuna’s body slammed into yours, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing in the chamber.

You were thankful that seeing him like this had you already soaked, else that stretch would’ve been a lot more painful with his size.

He didn’t hold back. Each thrust was powerful, relentless, his hips driving into yours with a ferocity that left you gasping. The intensity of it was overwhelming, his movements claiming you completely, pushing you past the point of pleasure and into a realm where pain and ecstasy became one.

Your body rocked against the wall, your breath coming in ragged, desperate pants as Sukuna’s pace only quickened. The sheer force of his movements left you clinging to the stone for support, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. He hooked a hand under your leg as he lifted you up slightly to get a better angle, your walls clenching around his cock every time he drove it in.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Already falling apart."

His hand tightened on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. "You’re my favourite," he hissed, his breath hot against your skin. "So don’t give me reason to neglect you."

Every punishing thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, building higher and higher until it was almost too much to bear. The heat between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect, brutal sync, the rhythm of your connection raw and primal.

"You feel that?" Sukuna’s voice was a low, dangerous growl in your ear as he brought his other hand to your belly, his hand over the bulge he was causing. "You will never feel this anywhere else.”

He drove into you with even greater force, his body demanding your submission with every movement. And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch inside you, your mind blanked, consumed by the sheer intensity of what he was doing to you.

Sukuna’s thrusts became more brutal, more relentless with each passing second. The intensity of his movements left you breathless, your body barely able to keep up with the raw, savage force of him. The cold stone of the wall pressed against your back, and his hand on your leg, the only thing holding you upright as Sukuna claimed you with an aggression that sent shivers through your entire being.

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force, pulling you into him with every movement, demanding your full surrender. The overwhelming pleasure mingled with a burning ache that left you trembling, each sensation more intense than the one before.

"Is this what you wanted?" Sukuna growled, his voice thick with both anger and lust. "You wanted to test me? Thought you could defy me, hmm?"

His tone was sharp, laced with danger, and each word only made your pulse race faster. You could feel the fury in his movements, the way he drove into you with a punishing rhythm that left you gasping for air. Your mind spun, the pleasure so overwhelming it was hard to think straight, but through the haze of sensation, you realised the truth: you’d pushed him too far.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of his body slamming into yours. "I'm sorry, Sukuna… I didn’t mean—"

Before you could finish, he thrust into you harder, his hand yanking your hair back so that your head snapped up, forcing you to meet his eyes as he leaned over you. His gaze burned with fury and satisfaction, and the sight of it made your stomach flip.

"Oh, you’re sorry now, are you?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "Begging for forgiveness already? Pathetic."

His hips slammed into yours again, the brutal pace leaving you reeling, the sheer force of his movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out, your fingers digging into the stone wall as you tried to brace yourself against the onslaught of pleasure and pain.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as his relentless thrusts made it hard to speak. "I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to—"

But Sukuna wasn’t interested in your apologies. If anything, your desperate pleas only seemed to drive him further, his pace quickening, the heat between you growing unbearable. His hand snaked around your throat, gripping it just tightly enough to make you aware of his control, his dominance over you absolute.

"You think I care about your sorry little words?" Sukuna growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think an apology is going to stop me now?"

His grip on your neck tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, and you could feel your body responding, the ache between your legs growing more intense with every punishing thrust. His pace was faster now, the rhythm of his hips brutal, leaving you no time to catch your breath as he took you harder, faster.

Your body was on fire, each thrust pushing you further into a dizzying spiral of pleasure that made it impossible to think of anything but him. Every time you tried to form words, they were swallowed by gasps and cries of pleasure, your mind barely able to keep up with the sheer intensity of what Sukuna was doing to you.

"I’m sorry," you whimpered again, your voice breaking as he pounded into you, the force of his movements overwhelming every sense. "I… I won’t disobey again… I promise…"

Sukuna’s hand moved from your throat to your waist, pulling you back into him with a bruising grip as he sped up even more, the wet sound of your bodies crashing together filling the air. His breathing was ragged now, and you could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his body enveloped you, completely dominating you.

"Is that so?" he snarled, his voice thick with satisfaction as he drove into you harder. "You’re sorry now… but it’s too late for that."

His hips slammed into yours with a ferocity that made your legs shake, your entire body trembling as he took you mercilessly. You could barely keep yourself upright, every muscle in your body tensing with the effort of staying grounded under the relentless onslaught of his thrusts, your pussy welcoming him in with every movement of his cock, it was embarrassing how much your body betrayed you.

"I’ll make sure you remember this," he growled, his breath hot against your skin as his pace became almost punishing. "Next time you think about disobeying me, you’ll remember exactly what happens."

Sukuna's grip tightened as he drove into you with merciless abandon, his pace unrelenting as your body quaked beneath him. The overwhelming sensation was pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your muscles tensing in anticipation of release. But just as you felt that familiar surge of pleasure coil tighter, ready to snap, Sukuna suddenly pulled back, leaving you teetering on the brink, your pussy clenching around nothing at the loss.

Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure was ripped away from you. He slowed his movements, rolling his hips with an agonisingly deliberate pace, teasing you with just enough sensation to keep you trembling but never enough to send you over.

"S-Sukuna," you gasped, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for the release that had been so cruelly denied. "Please... please, I—"

He cut you off with a low, mocking laugh, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you still, his chest pressed against your back. The heat of his body was suffocating, his presence overwhelming as he leaned down to speak directly into your ear.

"You really think you deserve to come after all that?" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "After the way you acted? You don’t get to have what you want."

You whimpered again, your body trembling with frustration as Sukuna slowed his thrusts to a maddening crawl, each movement deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge without ever granting you the release you so desperately craved.

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, spreading you wider as he pushed his cock deeper inside, filling you completely with slow, torturous strokes. Your breath came in shallow gasps, every nerve in your body strung tight with anticipation, but no matter how hard you tried to chase that elusive climax, Sukuna remained in control.

"I’m the one who decides when you get to come," he growled, his voice dark and commanding. "And you haven’t earned it today."

He increased the pace only slightly, enough to send another wave of pleasure through you, but still holding you just at the edge of satisfaction. You could feel him nearing his own release, his breathing becoming heavier, his thrusts more forceful, but even as his body tensed with his impending climax, he refused to let you finish.

"Look at you," he mocked, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Begging for something you’re not even worthy of."

Sukuna’s rhythm grew faster, his hips snapping into you with an intensity that sent you reeling. The heat between your bodies built to a fever pitch, his ragged breaths mingling with your gasps as you clung to the edge of control. You could feel yourself spiralling toward the brink of release, your entire body tensing, desperate to fall over that edge. But just as the pleasure began to crest, Sukuna let out a low, guttural growl, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his peak.

With one last deep thrust, he groaned, his body stilling as he spilled into you, his grip on your hips tightening with possessive force. His cum shot out, thick streams of white painting your walls, a neverending load it felt like with how prolonged it was. His breath came in hot, uneven pants against your skin, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his climax. You could feel the heat of him inside you, the weight of his release, but the moment your own release seemed within reach, Sukuna stopped moving completely.

You whimpered, the need still burning fiercely in your core, your body quaking with the intensity of being left teetering on the edge. You tried to grind against him, desperate for that final push, but his hands clamped down on your hips, holding you in place. The realisation hit you hard — he really wasn’t going to let you finish.

"Sukuna... please," you gasped, your voice strained, body trembling with unfulfilled need. "I-I need to—"

He chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look down at you, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, you thought I’d change my mind?" His voice was thick with amusement, utterly unapologetic. "Not this time."

You moaned in frustration, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of his rough pace, the pleasure so close yet just out of reach. Sukuna’s grip on your hips remained firm as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

"You're lucky I let you have this much," he growled, the tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Maybe next time you’ll think twice before misbehaving."

He pulled out slowly, his absence leaving you feeling unbearably empty, your body still throbbing with unsatisfied need. He watched you squirm beneath him, clearly revelling in your frustration, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

Sukuna’s dark chuckle echoed in the room as he loomed over you, watching the frustration play across your features. You could feel your body trembling with the intensity of everything left unresolved, a quiet whine escaping your throat as you tried, one last time, to reach for him. But before you could make any move, he shifted, his hand coming to rest atop your head.

The touch was shockingly gentle, a contrast to the roughness you’d just endured, as he stroked your hair almost… fondly. You glanced up at him, confusion flickering across your face, but Sukuna’s expression was one of twisted amusement.

"Don’t pout," he murmured, still smirking as he patted your head in that condescending way. "I’m not so heartless as to leave you completely unsatisfied." His voice dripped with mockery, but there was an underlying promise there—something dark and teasing.

You bit your lip, your heart still racing, unsure what he meant. Did he intend to give you an orgasm after all? Yet instead of returning his hands to your body, he let them slide away, leaving you even more bewildered.

With a casual shrug, Sukuna stood, towering over you, clearly savouring the sight of your needy, trembling form sprawled before him. As he moved toward the door, you caught his last remark.

"I’ll let you sleep in my chambers tonight," he tossed over his shoulder, his tone almost dismissive. "Consider that a kindness."

His words hung in the air, thick with his typical arrogance. Sleeping in his chambers meant you’d be close, within reach of him, and perhaps he’d allow more later. But it also meant the control still belonged to him, and you would have to wait, to endure.

He looked back at you once more, that cruel, satisfied grin still etched on his face. "See? I’m not entirely heartless," he teased, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you to gather yourself, the heat of your desire still thrumming in your veins. His presence lingered even after he was gone, the promise of what might come next hanging over you like a heavy, tantalising shadow.

taglist:

@waffless-simp-blog @l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

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mattluvr · 6 months ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * a pure smut matt sturniolo oneshot !

( dad!dom!matt with a raging breeding kink, oral — f!receiving, edging, dirty talk, praise )

matt wants another baby.

you do not. even if the sex to conceive your daughter had been some of the best you two had ever had, the dirty words matt had uttered that night still engraved into your brain, you’re adamant that you don’t want another child.

your daughter, now two years old and goddamn adorable, wreaks havoc at every opportunity, despite her angelic appearance; your brunette ringlets and matt’s bright blue eyes she’s inherited are a mere deception.

so often, when you and matt clamber into bed after a long day trying to prevent your kid from seriously injuring herself, you’re too tired to even entertain the idea of sex, let alone trying for another baby.

but today is your fifth anniversary with your boyfriend, whose insanely annoying charm has managed to change your perspective on a second pregnancy in the space of a romantic dinner at an italian restaurant.

so now you’re laid on your bed, spread eagled as matt kisses the burning flesh of your collarbones, your dress unzipped and being rolled down teasingly slowly. you moan into the thick air as one of his hands comes down to tweak your nipple through the flimsy material of the lingerie set you’d specially chosen; blue, his favourite colour.

“shit, matt.” you mumble, arching your back into his touch with a low moan. “makin’ me feel so good.”

“that right?” matt smirks, pinching your nipple harder to push your stimulation. you whine in response, stretching your neck to the side to invite matt to make more marks, not having to restrict the sounds pouring out of your mouth.

on the rare occasion that the pair of you share moments of intimacy, it’s rushed and usually restricted to mutual masturbation to reduce the risk of your daughter walking in and being scarred for life. but she’s staying with uncle chris and uncle nick, who are most likely feeding her way too much ice cream past her bedtime, so you don’t have to worry about anybody walking in.

“so fucking good.”

matt smiles, pleased with himself, and hungrily removes your dress completely, practically drooling at the full lingerie set reveal. he works quickly to pull the straps of your bra down, hands reaching round the back of you to undo the clasp, the tips of his fingers calloused but gentle. then, matt works on your panties, trimmed with baby blue lace, pulling them down, the material tickling your skin.

you buck your hips up as all three pieces of material float to the foot of the bed, starting to become impatient. you crave matt’s dick inside you, core pulsating as your boyfriend begins to move away from your chest, pressing kisses along your stomach until his mouth is level with your heat.

he doesn’t wait a second; lips are latched onto your clit before you have a chance to register what’s going on, a loud whine erupting from your throat as you let your head fall back on the pillow behind you. matt hasn’t eaten you out in months, and you’ve forgotten how talented he can be with his tongue.

as soon he latches onto your swollen clit, oozing arousal, you start to feel the familiar pit of longing form at the bottom of your stomach, close to release already. embarrassing; you must’ve been overly sensitive, making you easy to push to the edge, matt’s harsh kitten licks over your pulsing bud not helping matters.

your boyfriend picks up the pace of his ministrations against your bundle of nerves, gripping your thighs tighter as you begin to shake, on the verge of releasing. “matt,” you warn, whimpers spilling past your lips. “i’m close.”

“already?” his degrading tone and the laughter that follows only heightens your embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. immediately, matt is jumping to remove them, one hand lingering to grip your jaw. he sighs before diving back in, his next words muffled. “fine, just make it a good one.”

but as soon as he gives you permission, your orgasm right fucking there, matt pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“matt!” you cry out, using your thigh to hit his head, mouth wide open in disbelief. “i can’t believe you just did that.”

“don’t talk back to me.” he hisses, the hand that was still loosely on your jaw now squeezing your lips shut. you rarely see the dominant side of him this extreme, glad that he’s restricting your words in your state of speechless.

“you can cum once i’ve fucked this second baby into you. no complaints.”

and then he starts thrusting into you, roughly and relentlessly; you hadn’t even noticed him slip his lower garments off, pushing his way inside you, suddenly aware of how he fills you up and the pleasure you’re receiving from his length and girth.

you moan, legs instinctively widening, the sensitivity of being edged mere seconds before still raging, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap. matt is also getting sloppy, his thrusts weak as he struggles to restrain his release. he still has his hand pressed firmly against your jaw, muffling all your noises as you edge close to your orgasm.

“fu-uck.” matt’s breath hitches, his eyes trained on you as he pumps in and out; he already looks fucked out, his hair sticking to his forehead. “you gonna let me make you pregnant again? huh?”

you nod, eyebrows drawing together, the pleasure overbearing. you need to cum and you need cum now. matt is still whispering dirty things in your ear is he hovers over you, the boy’s legs shaking yours. “i’m gonna cum soon, baby, okay? you’re not gonna let a drop out.”

you nod again, your whole body tensing in your effort to hold back your orgasm. you’re willing matt to hurry up, silently due to matt’s continued clamped hand, the bed creaking mercilessly.

“oh, right there.” matt groans, his orgasm now on the edge too; you can feel it in his body movements. “god, sweetheart, i’m gonna…”

he trails off, head thrown back, hand dropping from your chin as he braces himself on either side of you. “cum!”

and he does, messily but in strong waves, painting your insides white with guttural moans. and, with your mouth finally freed, you’re able to orgasm as loud as you want, your body shaking as your high rolls over you.

once you’ve both come down from your shared peaks, matt pulls out of you, using his index finger to push the cum that trailed out after him back up into you; he evidently wants that second baby more than anything, and whilst you’re exhausted looking after one, there’s nobody you’d rather have multiple kids with than the boy now collapsed by your side, panting.

in your tangle of bare skin, you caress your boyfriend’s cheek, your words a soft whisper. “i’m excited now.”

“for what?” matt raises a quizzical eyebrow, placing the hand that had been gripping your jaw roughly minutes before over yours.

“for our daughter to have a sibling, duh. if we’re not pregnant after that, then i want a refund.”

and matt’s smile in response could’ve lit up a million stars.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #pure smut oneshots #matt sturniolo smut

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pedgito · 15 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Emperor Geta x reader

summary | Emperor Geta takes a liking to you but ends up with far more than he bargained for.

author's note | full blame on @hauntedhowlett. also don't look at me and tell me that man doesn't have a mommy kink, he does.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!geta, dom!reader, mentions of spousal/child loss, brief mentions of pregnancy, subtle mommy kink, lactation kink (titty suckin' hell yeah), oral (f receiving), use of sweet boy/good boy, unprotected piv

word count — 4.2k

A widow, a mourning would-be mother—naive amongst your youthful glaze, the softness in your features as you stare down the two brothers from across the long, crowded table. It has only been a fortnight now, but your face proves entirely unsuspecting.

This meeting was about you—not of your late husband, not of legality or current issues to address, but your qualification to have a spot amongst men. Most were unaware of your puppetry with your late husband and his place in the senate—an older man triple your age that had brought you for a price.

Easily to manipulate, easy to convince.

“There is no place here for a mockery like this,” An older gentleman with stringy, greying hair chirped up from his seat, fist tucked under his wrinkled chin, eyes carefully examining your figure, licking his split, dry lips, “she is young—negotiate a price with her father and—”

“He is dead,” You state flatly, a piercing glare shot down the line toward the spoken male, seemingly ticked by the sound of your voice, expecting submissiveness, “And I will assure the price is one you will never afford.”

Caracalla, as aloof as he was, seemed to snicker at that. A high-pitched cackle that slips from his lips as Geta raises a brow, his mouth hidden behind his curled fingers, opposite hand spread out wide on the arm of his throne.

“I am well versed,” You address both of the emperors directly, “Educated—my husband would be displeased to hear me say this, but he was not the smartest man. I have lost more than just him, but I am not here to beg.”

There was no love lost, fortunately. He wasn’t a good or bad man, only a man. He frequented brothels often, voiced his displeasure when you weren’t serving him correctly, and only forced a child upon you because of societal standards. It was distressing, still deep in your own grief as you avoided the deadlocked stares from the surrounding men, praying that one of the two young emperors would have a soft spot, or even a weakness.

You would find it, if needed. But, Geta’s amusement was a comforting sign.

The same man, displeased with your presence, grips hard enough at his wooden cane that it starts to crack, “Better yet, force her to work in the brothel. Plenty of use for you there,” His gaze switches from the head of the table to you, nodding his head with a triumphant smirk.

“As I am sure your wife would love to hear about your visits,” There’s a collective tenseness, both of hands gripping the table and men shifting in their seats, eyes flickering back and forth between the volleying conversation, the dueling man’s face going slack, “do not act surprised, you keep company of men with loose lips, be thankful one of them has died with the rest of your pitiful secrets.”

Geta clears his throat then, sharing a brief moment with his brother as they nod in unison.

“I will consider this,” He begins, tongue swiping along the inside of his bottom lip, “given the suddenness of—”

“Your highness, do not fall victim to her deception, she is—”

“If you value that head of yours,” Geta’s words are biting, quick, “you will not interrupt me when I am speaking.”

He’s highly temperamental, the dagger he’s spent twirling in his hand for the past several minutes tossing lazily against the wood as he flicks a hand up dismissively, “Get out of my sight,” He excuses them all, aside from his finger pulling like it was held on a string to aim in your direction, “you—stay.”

You’ve just resigned yourself to death, surely.

–

The wine is dark, staining his upper lip as he drinks, clunky rings tapping against the glass of his cup as he passes you off a cup of your own. He had his own private quarters, opposite of his brother and hidden down a long, trailing hallway, an office-like room attached to his quarters.

You weren’t going to defy his command as unsettling as it felt, his glittering and colorful robe dragging against the tile floor as you stood silent, a comfortable distance away.

Your dress was unbearably tight, back straight as an arrow while your shoulders ached, but you didn’t waver, didn’t slouch. Your breasts spilled over the fabric, barely covered by the shawl draped over your shoulders, signs of motherhood that had yet to dissipate. You cleared your throat, shuffling quietly on your feet.

“I do not like nervousness,” Geta announces, turning his head over his shoulder as he swivels his body to lean against the edge of the desk—the room was clearly unused, aside from now.

“I am not nervous,” It wasn’t that at all, rather an uncertainty.

“Drink,” He suggested, nodding his head toward your full glass, “it will help.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you and you defy his order further, traveling toward him to rest the glass against the desk, hands settled at your stomach as you look at him, his eyes carefully tracking your movement as he sloshes the wine around in his mouth, a fingertip trailing the rim before he mirrors your actions.

“G—your highness,” You begin indecisively, “forgive me for sounding…selfish, but is there something you require? Do I serve a purpose being here?”

“What are your current living arrangements?” He asks suddenly, fingers curled around the edge of the desk, tilting his head in question.

“I am living under the selflessness of a senator’s wife—though, if he knew, it would not be welcomed with open arms,” Geta is aware of your steadfast gaze, rare that you ever looked anywhere but his face, not the usual roaming nervousness he had become acquainted with.

“Ah,” He chuckles, “If I may pry—well, I am…is it—”

The man who had challenged you earlier with a wife too gracious for her own good.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Geta contemplates—he wasn’t against you having a voice within his council, aware that it wouldn’t be well-met, but there was a way to ensure safety and submission; he's learned to mold and shape to achieve what he wants at the lift of a finger. It was a mix of power and practiced manipulation.

“You will relocate here, to the palace,” He informs, “as an extra measure and because I am fond of your…bite,” His mouth upturns in a lazy smirk, “you will be well cared for here, I assure you.”

A man who was far too fond of his toys, you notice the glint in his eyes as soon as his expression morphs. Greed; he could have everything and even that wouldn’t be enough.

It was only minimally amusing, his confidence.

And within a few hours and a few snaps of his fingers, you were set up comfortably in your own room, a pleasant conversation with his less than stable brother and the obedient monkey perched on his shoulder—he was endearing, but visibly paranoid.

You refuse the help of the servants as you attempt to retire for the night, brow furrowed in frustration as you reach unsuccessfully for the tied string of your dress, resilient and stubborn in your unwillingness for help as you curse to yourself, half a second from ripping the fabric in half before the door to your room is opening quietly, creaking on it’s hinges.

“I assure you, they are here for a reason,” Geta remarks fondly, the faint fire of the candles lit around your room painting him in a warm glow, softening an unusually rigid man, he approaches without a word as you relent, hands curling around the edge of a nearby chair, his hand working methodically along the knotted fabric at your back, a few minutes passing before he’s tugging it loose, a breath of relief slipping beyond your lips.

Geta takes a few steps back, ringed fingers interlocked behind his back as he watches you expectantly, watching quietly as you turn with your arm clutching the fabric to your chest, hair loosened, your face relaxing into a natural scowl.

“Do you require anything of me?” You ask, curious of his lingering presence but not feeling threatened or undermined—shockingly, he seemed unsteady. Unsure. His confidence failed him for the first time in his young life, “If there is…something you would like to address, I will listen.”

“When did you marry?” An odd start, but you answer with ease.

“Fifteen—he promised my family wealth, it was a simple trade. They died not long after. Tuberculosis, or so I was told,” You shift from one bare foot to another as Geta’s lips pull together in a narrow line, “You know, we are not much different.”

That grabs his attention, his eyebrow raising in a silent question as you approach slowly, arms crossed over your chest now, holding the fabric in place, “Coyness is unbecoming, Emperor.”

“Enlighten me,” Geta replies, his restless hands finding their way over the collars of his robe as he tightens it around himself, joining him near the end of your bed—a strange thing to claim; this entire room, yours.

“If my math proves me right, we are of the same birth year,” You begin, “—those men, your advisors, they severely underestimate you and Caracalla. They are scared of you, yes. But, if given the chance, they would strike you down without a thought,” He turns his head, blinking away a sour expression, feeling particularly bare despite his state of dress.

Your gaze was powerful, intense, even Geta could not handle it.

“I am trying to say that I understand,” You clarify, tilting your head to catch his eyeline, reaching out slowly to provide a comforting touch, hands curling around his wrist, “not that I understand your role and the burden it carries, but being young and overlooked. I have felt that, I still feel it.”

He’s never been approached so openly—though he prefers the proclivity of men who bow down without question, his psyching was always searching for something more. A poor boy without love, or meaningful relations. You offer a soft smile as he turns his head to you.

“You came here for a reason,” You remind him, “—make it clear.”

His eyes follow the steady rise and fall of your chest, your fingers curling over the rough, coarse lining of the dress as it pushes your breasts up, his tongue trailing along his bottom lip in a wordless hunger.

“Did you plan to force yourself upon me?” You ask curiously, his face flushing with embarrassment, “Or, perhaps, hope that I would be charmed by you?”

“It is rare that I am denied,” He explains, like a petulant kid preparing to be denied their favorite toy, “—but, you are not mine.”

“I belong to no one,” You clarify, “I am not a whore, or a servant. We are…equals, yes?”

“Not entirely,” Geta counters, still donning the crown on his head—more subtle than the formal one he wears around, a delicate band of gold leaves adorned with gems, “but, it seems—”

You smirk slightly to yourself as you reach forward with one hand, plucking the band gently from his hair and tossing it aside to the bed, fingertips trailing down to his chin as you tug his face to look at you.

“You need not put on a performance for me,” You comfort him, his features softening as his eyes flicker toward the crown, “it is as simple as just asking, Geta.”

At level ground, it feels more appropriate. If he wanted your head, he would have it.

Eagerness invades his mind, clawing forward as his palms form to your neck, jaw, lips pressing against yours with impatience, a hum of hunger laying in wait in his throat. For a second, you allow it. Indulge in the simplicity of desire that has been long forgotten, sighing fervently against his mouth before you’re taking grip of his robe and forcing him back, his eyes blackened with lust and his mouth open, blinking with confusion.

“Ask me,” You demand him, “I have allowed so many in my life to take, not this. Not you.”

Geta clears his throat hastily, closing his mouth, gathering the immense willpower it took to listen, comply, “May I—may I kiss you?”

You nod, a grin spreading across your face as he lunges forward eagerly once more, held back by your surprisingly powerful grip, unaware of how your dress had shifted down, held up solely by the body contact against Geta, chest to chest.

It was teasing, taunting him with the ability and control you had over him, lips grazing against his testingly as he laughs too, a quiet and joyous noise as you finally let him have it, arms wrapping over his shoulders as his own hands roam down your sides, around your back and down your side, squeezing a hand at your thigh and bringing it up, high enough that it can rest at his hips, his fingers kneading into the exposed skin near the slit of your gown, toying with the delicate skin that he could reach.

You revel in the neediness, an intense feeling of want washing over you, his nose following the lines of your face as they nudge at your chin, forcing your head up as his kisses trail down, spit slicked lips pressing into your skin, bodies separating as you dress falls, as bare as he under his own robe, plump breasts pulling his eyes down, a slow blink and an instant flick up towards your face.

“Seems the effects of motherhood are taking their time to dissipate,” You admit, his fingers twitching at the sight of them, “If that is an issue we can end this he—”

“No,” He growls, “it—sorry, it is not.”

You reach for his hands quietly, his gaze following your direction as you cup them over your breasts, the heavy weight of them in his hands, the gentle squeeze that would otherwise make you wince but instead has your thighs clenching together. Geta was practically salivating at the sight, mesmerized by the fullness and warmth, his thumbs rubbing carefully over your hardened nipples, a small opaque drop of liquid painting his finger.

You grab his thumb suddenly, shoving his hand away at the sight.

“Despite a loss my body continues to provide,” You explain, “ It is not a lot, but it lingers.I have tried…everything to will it away.”

“Why?” Geta asks, looking up at you with newfound curiosity.

“It is not ideal, you see—”

“Who has told you this?” Geta pesters, watching the liquid drip down his finger before he brings it to his mouth, “I see no issue.”

Your nose twitches in uncertainty, his fingers trailing an abstract pattern into the underside of your breasts, around the side, admiring, “I have always been curious,” Geta admits, his voice trailing as you slowly guide yourself to sit on the bed, the emperor following in suit as he kneels against the edge of the mattress between your open thigh, “did he appreciate your body for everything that it was?”

“He was barren,” You admit, “He liked my mouth on his cock and that was all. He did not care for much else or my pleasure at that, he was much too inadequate anyways.”

He doesn’t address the glaringly obvious admittance—a much longer story for another time that neither of you cared for at the moment, “May I?” He asks politely, his hot breath ghosting over your chest as you nod, his mouth latching onto your skin in an instant.

It starts at the center of your chest, face buried between your breasts as he pulls his robe open, aided down by the push of your hands, his alabaster skin contrasting the plum sheets, his knee rising briefly to push into the sheets as you catch a glimpse of his cock, hanging heavily and intimidating in its size, anticipating of the stretch if you allowed him so far.

His tongue follows a planned path, along the underside of your breasts and around your nipple, grazing over the pebbled skin with the subtle taste of sweetness seeping into his taste buds as his lips wrap around and such, the faintest push of teeth in your skin as his eyes peer up at you, your brow furrowing in delight at the sudden shock to your cunt, nothing like you’ve felt before.

You did not know pleasure like this, a fair trade. It was a shock to the system.

He’s looking for acknowledgement, trading off to share the same care to the other breasts, his free hand trailing to the side of your face and under your neck, cradling you with a gentle touch as the hand on your breasts curls around and squeezes, sucking gently at your breasts as his head tilts into your comforting touch, your opposite hand turning as you run your knuckles alongside his jaw.

“Sweet boy,” You praise, “is that what you wanted?”

As if he hadn’t been eyeing you the entire meeting, breasts squeezed together as you leaned daringly over the table to argue with your aggressor, quenching the hunger all day with a steady diet of wine and the assorted fruit placed around the palace, always within reach, watching you quietly.

He nods slightly, distantly, as he’s focused on his current task.

“Geta,” Formalities forgotten by now, his eyes widened as you stare at him, rising on your elbows with a waiting expression, “have you lost your tongue?”

“It would—it would seem I have not,” He chuckles with a knowing smirk, swiping his tongue around your nipple in a circular motion, “I am pleased, yes.”

He shifts his arms around you, curled fists landing in the sheets beside your head, his cock sliding against the inside of your thigh as he settles to his knees, a fresh flush to his chest as he admires your state of nakedness, trailing two wondering fingers from your chest to your pelvic bone, a slow dance in the low light of the room.

You nudge his hand away, “You are eager,” You note with a fond tone, watching as began to lean into you, eager to capture your lips once more, but your fingers are pressing over his lips before they reach their destination, shaking your head in disapproval, “I have ideas for better use of that mouth, Emperor.”

He pulls back with grin, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip as you filter your fingers through his ginger hair, curling your hand over the back of his head as he bows, settling on his belly with his cock trapped between the sheets, slowly his nose buries into the coarse curls, his tongue dragging down the seam of your pussy.

Geta can only liken it to a taste of the divine, or the closest he would ever reach, settled between your open legs with a mission to please, to satisfy. And for the first time in his life—serve someone other than himself. Normally he would bark at the informality of things, only allow his given title, a strict instruction of a bowed head and obedience, but he finds himself bending to your rule and dropping to his knees, if you demand.

“You have your wits and sharp tongue,” He hums against your cunt, a delightful noise slipping out as you tug at his hair, “I suggest you put them to good use.”

As he does, you find yourself drifting.

He is precise, thorough—which is not at all expected from a man of his status, or any man, really. They were never concerned with the pleasure of anyone but themselves, but Geta has proven you wrong in many ways as undesirable as his ruling may be.

You only cared for your life anymore, witnessing how delicate it could be when it came to everyone around you.

He likes to watch, too. It isn’t at all surprising, eager for praise he brings you to a quick and intense, but fleeting orgasm. It swells in your stomach, the heat pooling before it explodes, hearing the satisfied groan as he licks you clean, murmuring a shaky, “Good–good b-boy,” as you force yourself to catch your breath, allowing him to climb his way back up your body with the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, both of you sighing into the shared space as your foreheads meet and Geta was completely at your control, awaiting your next command.

“Are things often like this?” You ask curiously, “Is this what you seek?”

Domination; someone to submit to.

In a daze, he shakes his head, lips parted slightly.

“Do you enjoy that I make you feel this way?”

He smiles, sated, nodding in response.

“I want to feel you,” It was a whispered request, his eyes searching your face—again, even just the nudge of his cock between your folds was enough to make you tense and you find your own fingers drifting between your legs, dipping inside of you as he looks down, mesmerized as you guide his hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around his as you work together in tandem.

When his brow draws together, you guide him inside of you, staving off his impending orgasm.

“Slow,” You instruct, hands traveling to grip his face, nodding his head between your hold, “You are…quite large, I am not used to that,” Geta seems to find a surge of confidence at that, leaning forward greedily to capture your lips, his teeth dragging along the fleshy skin as he angles his and pulls back slowly, entering you at the same pace despite the impatient shake to his body, eager for more, “slow—slow, look at me,”

“You’re obedient,” You praise, “far more than I expected.”

“My brother likens you to a goddess,” Geta notes, the odd timing sending you into a gentle snort of laughter, “I must say I agree, you are mesmerizing.”

“I prefer Caracalla not be a topic as your cock is buried inside of me,” You retort with a kind smile, his own morphing into a frown of concentration as your knees hike around his hips, encourage him to lean his weight against you as he rocks his hips, a gentle rhythm that is drowned out by the sounds of the city at night.

His itching impatience grows tiresome, gripping desperately at whatever skin he could reach, pitiful moans of pleasure inked into your skin with the silent plea of more—please, more?

“Make me come once more,” You urge him, “and take what you need.”

It was all he needed to hear, taking the opportunity to slip out of you as he guiding you toward your stomach, guiding one knee up toward your chest as he hovered over you, turning your head to face him as he pushed his cock back inside of you, your walls fluttering around him in satisfaction of being filled again.

There was a perfect view of the sky this way, a small alcove open to the night breeze, stars twinkling against the contrasting colors of midnight, “It is beautiful,” He begins, not admiring the same sight as you, a shakiness to his voice as he pumped his hips at a nearly unbearable pace, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you.

He’s panting into your skin, a feeling you’ve experienced in plenty of other circumstances, with a well-versed ability to separate yourself from your body as men chase their pleasure, but with the emperor, it was a different experience.

A cacophony of small whimpers followed by an utterances of words you’re not sure he or his brother have spoke often, “Please—-please, may I—“

The gravity of the situation flips as you realize your mistake, giving a man with far too much reach and power any type of influence over you, your brain searching for a way to counter his plea as you turn your body, arm wrapping around the back of his neck as he shakes with his impending orgasm.

Words are lost, unable to speak before he’s pulling out of you, the drip of his warm seed coating your skin, the tight grip at your chest loosening in an instant.

Thank the gods, you pray silently.

“I apologize,” He breathes heavily, bottom lip swollen and red from the mutilation of his teeth, chest flushed bright and burning, “if—if I scared you.”

He uses his discarded robe to clean you up, unthinking of the consequences as he leaned back to stand, fully nude as he extends his hand in wait, beckoning you closer.

“Scared me?” You challenge, curling your hand into his own as he pulls you up, legs bracketing his thighs as your hands come to rest against his abdomen, staring up at the emperor.

“Your bark is quite frightful,” He admits, “I can only imagine how you would rip me apart had I gone too far,” His words trail, a softening to his voice as he curls his hand around the side of your face, a gentle gesture.

“Would you like that, Geta?” You ask with a creeping suspicion, a smirk spreading across your face, “For me to rip you apart?”

A man of such power, unrestrained and chaotic—shrinks.

Almost too shy to admit it.

“Careful, my lady,” He warns, “I am still a ruler of Rome, such disrespect is—”

“Punishable by death,” You confirm, “but, you promised me safety, yes?”

Geta nods silently, watching the slow crawl of your fingers up his chest before they grab his chin, your thumb smoothing over the dimpled skin, his lips pulling apart in a shaky exhale.

“And I am sure a good boy like you will keep that promise?”

#emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta x female reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #emperor geta smut #gladiator 2 #emperor geta fanfic #geta x reader #my writing #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you

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tasteleeknow · 7 months ago

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gentle.

fluff. chan x fem!reader. no content warnings. unless you're repulsed (??) by sickly sweet boyfriendf!chris. in which case, look away.

"You alright?" he asks, ducking below the table to join you. You're sucking on the tip of your finger as you shoot evil eyes at the deceptively violent shard of broken glass. You'd thought you were being careful.

His fingers wrap around your wrist. "Told you to wait," he scolds. It's gentle.

That's how he was with you.

"Lemme see," your boyfriend says, pulling your finger from your lips with his delicate grip on your wrist. He inspects the tiny spot at the tip of your pointer finger until it beads red again. Then he wraps his lips around it.

"Do you think I'll live?"

His eyes lift to yours before they crinkle a little with amusement. Then your finger is freed. "Just," he says. "Lucky for me." His thumb strokes against your wrist in barely-there brushes. It's mindless; a common habit.

You've forgotten about your near-death experience by the time you're both under the covers, ready for sleep an hour or so later. Instead, you're focused on the tiny kisses he's pressing to your palm... then to each finger—soft, warm lips to your chilled skin.

His frequent treatment for your chronic cold hands often started this way. Like he could kiss the cold away in the same way someone might kiss a grazed knee for a child.

When he's done, you turn over—letting him tuck himself against your back the way he always does. His breath tickles your neck, another offering of warmth.

You grasp his hand to your chest, locking his arm around you.

"All good?" he asks, voice heavy as sleep closes in.

It seemed to come naturally to him, the checking in—the taking care. He was a giver, your boyfriend. Receiving came a little less naturally. He'd often duck his head when you offered him some of that gentleness in return, averting his eyes. It helped to whisper the words into the darkness at moments like this.

"I love you," you breathe, his knuckles brushing your lips. "So much."

His lips curve against your neck. And then, one last oh-so-gentle kiss.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #x reader #chan drabble #chan drabbles

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sserpente · 1 year ago

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The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

#astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion x tav #the sunwalker's gift #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 imagine #bg3 #bg3 imagine #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancuncin x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 7 months ago

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Overprotective

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

Summary: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control.

Notes: this was an anon request. same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. *can be read alone*

Warnings: mention of murder and pregnancy.

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“You’re mad,” Feyd says, his smile dropping at the sight of your frown. Your arms are crossed over your swollen belly as you lean back against the headboard of your bed. He closes the door behind him. “Why are you mad?”

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly why you’re mad. By your count, you’ve been pissed at him twenty-three times in the past month and a half and you don’t care for your widely-known highly-intelligent husband playing naive. “Don’t act like you don’t know. We only ever fight about one thing, Feyd. One.”

Feyd sighs and steps closer to the mattress, but when you put your hand up, he stops in his tracks. Your throat strains as you swallow your grin. You still get little flutters in your belly when he demonstrates how you have that kind of power over him, but you cannot let him see the satisfaction on your face now. If he sees you smile, he will smile, which means you will have lost because he’ll know he’s won, and when he wins he gets turned on, so then you’ll get turned on, and then you’ll end up fucking. But you cannot be fucking right now. He needs to learn a lesson. His hard dick in his wife’s warm pussy will not achieve any lesson-learning. If anything, it will encourage his bad behavior.

“You killed another one,” you tell him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed; though that’s far from surprising.

Feyd crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He touched you.”

“I tripped.”

“And then he touched you.”

“He caught me.”

“So you agree,” Feyd says with a sharp nod. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

Your huff descends into a groan as the heels of your palms press against your closed eyelids. “Your wife—your heavily pregnant wife—would’ve fallen on her ass if he hadn’t.”

“He shouldn’t have let you trip in the first place,” Feyd tells you. “He was meant to ensure you have a clear and safe walking path.”

Your lips part, mouth opening and closing and opening again as you search for a response. However, you end up with the same one you always do: “You are unbelievable,” you reply, shaking your head. “Twenty-three servants, Feyd! It has surpassed extremes! You killed one for brushing my hair–”

“Touching—and she was pulling on it too hard.”

“You killed one for helping me dress in the morning when you had already been called away for a meeting.”

“I prefer you naked anyway,” he says, shrugging, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Naked and in this bed.”

You raise a brow. “And the one who helped me sit down so I could watch you in the arena?”

“Ah, that one—” Feyd waves his finger as he clicks his tongue “—that one thought I wouldn’t notice because you were so high up in the stands. I don’t like sneaky people,” he reminds you, though you’re plenty aware of how he handles deception and trickery. “You should have told me you planned to attend and I would’ve helped you well before it started.”

Ignoring his point, you retort, “You cannot keep killing everyone.”

Feyd groans. “My love, you’re in too delicate a state,” he says. “I gathered all of them together not two months ago and explicitly forbade them from laying a finger on you. It is not my fault if they break the rules. And what sort of Baron am I if I do not enforce punishment?”

You hum in dissatisfaction. “You do understand you put me and your child in more danger by not permitting their assistance?”

Immediately, his brow pinches. His head turns to look away from you and when his jaw clenches, you realize the weight of your mistake. A sickening feeling settles in your gut. Your face falls from frustration into total devastation. “Oh God, Feyd…”

“I do not put you in danger,” he says, and it’s so shockingly meek that your heart cracks right down the middle. Not once in almost two years have you heard that tone leave his mouth, and you think maybe his eyes have become glassy, but you’re praying it’s a trick of the low lighting in your bedroom. Feyd has never cried in front of you, if he's ever cried at all, and you hope you didn’t just unfairly yank that vulnerability out of him.

“I’m so sorry. That isn't what I meant,” you whisper, sinking into your shame. You know it’s such a sensitive topic for him and you spoke without thinking. You reach your hand toward him. “Come here….please.”

Feyd stares at you for a long moment, but then he sighs through his nose and walks over to sit at your side atop the mattress. No tears—your breath shudders in relief. One hand grasps his and your lips brush his knuckles. The other cups his cheek as you guide his forehead to rest on yours.

“You protect me,” you swear to him. “No one could ever keep me safe the way you do, and I know that's all you want, but our son is coming soon. We will need help. I can’t birth this baby without a doctor and that doctor will have to touch me. Me and our son.”

The heat of Feyd's heavy breath warms your face. You wait for his response but he doesn’t have one, and instead, he shifts to lie down. You adjust your body until you’re flat on the mattress beside him. “Sometimes,” he starts as he rubs his palm over your stomach, “I have dreams about the three of us living elsewhere. Everyone is forced to leave us alone and all we have to care about is each other and our child.”

Feyd kisses your exposed shoulder, and in that moment, you’re reminded of how different he has become. He’s transformed from someone whose sole ambition was to be the Baron—a man driven to control this planet and have the people of Giedi Prime bow to him; a man who sought destruction and pain and power—to a man who secretly craves a bit of peace for his family. Though no one other than yourself sees this side of him, it’s hard to watch him tackle that burden, especially when you know you’re the responsible party.

“What have I done to you, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?” you mutter as you press your lips to his forehead.

He chuckles lowly and hugs you into his body. “You turned me soft.”

“You kill servants without batting an eye.”

“Fine,” he relents. “As soft as I’m capable of being.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune fic #austin butler #dune part 2 #feyd rautha #dune

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just-aake · 8 months ago

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Detecting Love Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Detecting Love. Can a spy who's been trained to lie her entire life show the person with the power to detect lies the truth what it means to be loved?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5171

Natasha Romanoff lies.

Now, that’s to be expected, considering she is one of the greatest spies in the world. Ever since she was a child, she has been trained to be able to deceive everyone she meets.

Lying comes as easily to her as breathing, and deception is woven into every fiber of her being.

A charming smile here. A flirty wink there.

Sweet words flow from her lips like honey.

Making everyone fall in love with all of the different false personas that she created for herself.

With a life and a past as shadowed as hers, it makes sense why she never even dared to imagine finding a person who can tolerate, let alone embrace, someone like her.

Then, she met you.

With your unique power to literally see through lies, you can detect the truth from her even when she’s at her most convincing. And despite learning about who she was and how she is, you accepted her unconditionally, not just as a friend, but as a partner.

For Natasha, being with someone who can truly see her is scary, and yet, that feeling is also better than breathing itself.

The two of you have been dating for several months now, and Natasha has never been happier.

Even if she sometimes occasionally struggles to express her affection openly in public.

As the two of you stroll through the compound, her eyes drift down once again in contemplation to your hand swinging casually at your side.

As if sensing her silent deliberation, you suddenly ask her curiously.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Natasha straightens at your question and faces forward, responding promptly in an even tone, “No.”

Now that is sure to sound honest to anyone else who heard it, but you’re different.

Natasha makes sure to trail back slightly behind your line of sight in an attempt to hide the glow she knows you’d probably see around her.

You don’t comment on her evading action, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you maintain your pace toward the Avenger’s personal elevator.

The two of you stand side by side, waiting for the elevator to arrive when Natasha suddenly feels the back of your hand lightly graze her fingers before quickly pulling away.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion at you, but you maintain an innocent expression, your gaze fixed on the decreasing numbers above the elevator doors.

Facing forward once more, Natasha is about to dismiss the action as an accidental touch when she feels it again – the fleeting brush of your hand against hers.

This time, she doesn't hesitate to shoot you an accusing stare. Yet, you continue to feign ignorance, your expression a perfect mask of innocence.

A couple of seconds pass before your hand makes contact with hers for the third time.

Before you can retract your hand, Natasha swiftly catches it and intertwines your fingers with hers before letting out a defeated huff.

You don’t utter a word about her actions, but a subtle smile curves your lips, exposing your amusement at her reaction.

With a soft squeeze of her hand, you pull her into the elevator, the door closing shut behind the two of you.

It's moments like these that remind Natasha why she fell for you — your ability to see past her lies, even the most trivial ones.

Once the elevator door slides open to the private floor, the two of you are met with sounds of a heated argument between the Asgardian Avenger and his visiting brother.

“I know you did it, Loki! This is not the first time you’ve taken and hidden a treasure of mine!”

“Oh, would you stop being so dramatic? We're talking about a mug, not some enchanted artifact.”

You raise a questioning brow at her, silently asking her whether you two should come back at another time, but Natasha shakes her head resolutely in response, not willing to let anything prevent her from missing her morning coffee.

As the two of you walk past the brothers, Thor finally notices the new presence in the room.

“Y/n!” he calls excitedly.

His hand lands on your shoulder, catching you in place between the two of them which in turn pulls your hand from her grasp.

Thor’s other hand points accusingly at his brother.

“Is Loki lying about taking my mug?”

Realizing that you’re being dragged into the middle of the argument, your eyes dart to Natasha for help, only for her to give you a thumbs up in encouragement as she takes a sip of the coffee that she just poured from the freshly made pot.

The other Asgardian crosses his arms and snickers derisively at his brother.

“Do you really think that this simple mortal can expose the literal god of mischief? I didn’t take your stupid mug, and she can’t prove any—”

“He’s lying,” you answer plainly, seeing the red aura surrounding the Asgardian.

Loki shuts his mouth in surprise, blinking at you for a moment in disbelief, before pointing at you with a disdainful look.

“I don’t like her,” he states bluntly.

“Ah ha!” Thor exclaims victoriously. “You did take it!”

The two continue with their arguing as you discreetly sneak away to Natasha’s side.

She hands you a cup of coffee which you accept with a soft thanks before an alarm on your phone rings, showing your reminder for the day.

You groan lightly in disappointment, causing Natasha to raise a questioning brow at you as she raises her cup for another sip.

“I have some interviews to get to this morning, so I’ll have to see you later,” you tell her before pressing a quick kiss goodbye to her cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin.

Swallowing her sip quickly, Natasha turns her head towards your direction, the reciprocating words also on her tongue.

“I—”

But you’ve already rushed away around the corner, disappearing from view.

“…love you too,” Natasha finishes in a soft disappointed tone, her lips twisting at your action.

Public displays of affection aside, Natasha has no problem wanting to tell you how much you mean to her.

But for some reason, you always seem to conveniently find ways to escape whenever she’s about to say those words to you.

“Now I’m no expert on relationships, but that right there was some cunning evasion tactic,” Loki comments, smirking at Natasha. “It appears that she’s not really interested in receiving such words from you.”

A slap on Loki's shoulder propels him forward a couple of steps as Thor reprimands, “Stop trying to cause problems for them, Loki.”

He then turns to Natasha with a firm nod.

“Don’t listen to him, Nat. Y/n loves you.”

Of course, she knows that.

You whisper those words against her skin every morning when you think she’s still asleep and then again against her lips when you wake her up.

The problem is that it seems that she never gets the chance to return the gesture before you find some way to rush away from the room or keep her mouth otherwise occupied and distracted.

A thud on the counter pulls her from her thoughts as Loki leans against the table with a mischievous grin.

“That girl can detect lies, right? Then why don’t you just tell her that you don’t love her, and then she’ll see the truth. That should be easy enough for you. After all, lying is your specialty,” Loki remarks before a smug expression forms on his face.

“Unless that is, the truth is that you don’t actually love her,” he taunts.

Natasha glares at him silently, refusing to fall for his baiting provocation. Not wanting to give the trickster god any more amusement, she quickly downs the rest of her coffee and leaves for the meeting room, deciding to try again with you later.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

With the briefing finishing early, Natasha decides to visit your office during this break in between her meetings. Conversations flow around her as she walks past the front desk toward the administrative part of the building.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t let you enter without an appointment.”

“Well, is there any way you can just send a message to Y/n to let her know I’m here?”

Natasha’s head snaps up from her tablet at the sound of your name and curiously turns to the person who said it, only for her eyes to widen slightly in surprise at their identity.

Your ex-fiancée

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha redirects her attention to the two of them.

“What did you need to see Y/n for?” she asks.

Your ex turns to her at her question, and an expression of amazement crosses her face.

“Oh, wow, you’re Black Widow.”

Brushing off her awed exclamation, Natasha crosses her arm expectantly as she repeats, a slight tone of protectiveness entering her voice.

“Why are you looking for Y/n?”

Noticing her serious gaze and intimidating demeanor, your ex fidgets with her hands nervously as she responds.

“It’s kind of a private matter with an old case that I need her help with,” she explains.

Despite being the one who broke your heart, your mutual break up with her meant that the two of you are still somewhat friends, and as much as Natasha wants to, she can’t prevent your ex from seeking you out, especially since it seems she needs your help.

With an internal displeased sigh, Natasha gestures with her head towards the direction of the elevators.

“I’m heading over to her office right now if you want to come with me,” Natasha offers, nodding at the receptionist reassuringly to indicate that it’s okay, before walking away without another word.

Natasha hears your ex scramble to follow quickly after her once she processes her words.

As the elevator doors close with the two of them inside, Natasha pulls out her phone to send you a warning text.

I’m on the way to your office with your ex.

A read message quickly appears under her text, indicating that you have seen it, and then a text bubble promptly pops up as you respond.

?!?!?

“So, do you and Y/n work together often?” your ex asks, trying to fill the silence with casual conversation.

Natasha looks up at her question, tucking her phone away. She crosses her arms and leans back against the elevator walls, adopting an intimidating posture, as she gives her a hard stare.

With a calm yet assertive tone, she tilts her head curtly and replies with the truth.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the small space after her answer, and your ex’s eyes dart around the enclosed space, seemingly realizing she’s essentially alone with the Black Widow who just revealed that she is in a relationship with you.

Sensing her nervous energy, Natasha relaxes her posture, offering a more friendly demeanor.

“Relax, if I was going to do something, I would have done it already,” Natasha reassures.

Your ex nods hesitantly, acknowledging Natasha’s attempt to diffuse the tension. After a moment of contemplation, she gathers the courage to speak up again.

“So, you know about Y/n and her ability?” your ex asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, adding, “And about what happened between the two of you.”

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, plunging the elevator into an uncomfortable silence once again.

Honestly, Natasha knows she shouldn’t keep putting your ex in these awkward positions with her responses.

However, just because you are on friendly terms with her doesn’t mean Natasha has to be, especially considering she never held any goodwill toward the woman before.

Natasha redirects her focus to the digital display above the door, silently cursing and blaming Tony for the sluggish pace of the elevator.

“I-I honestly did love her,” your ex confesses, breaking the silence once again.

At her statement, Natasha regards her with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate on her sudden declaration.

"I mean, Y/n’s great. It’s just…it got hard to imagine being with someone who always knows if you’re telling the truth or not,” your ex explains with a small sigh, offering a tiny sympathetic shrug before asking. “I’m sure you understand that feeling too, right?"

Irritation flares in Natasha’s chest at your ex’s words, her protective instincts surfacing in defense of you.

"Maybe the fact that she can see someone for who they truly are is what makes being with her so special," Natasha counters, her voice firm with conviction.

The remainder of the elevator ride passes in tense silence until the doors finally open with a ding, signaling their arrival at your floor.

Throughout that time, one part of the conversation continues to bother Natasha, and she finds herself asking, wanting to know the answer.

“Did you tell her often?”

“What?” your ex asks, blinking in surprise and caught off guard by her sudden question.

Natasha presses her lips together momentarily in displeasure at the topic before clarifying, “Did you tell Y/n that you loved her often, you know, before your feelings changed?”

“Oh, um, kind of,” she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “It’s actually kind of funny. Y/n would always have this cute little shy smile whenever I said it, so I ended up saying those words to her a lot.”

The irritation in Natasha’s chest intensifies at her answer, and her feelings must be evident on her face because your ex starts waving her hands frantically in a slight panic.

“But I’m positive Y/n won’t react the same way if I said it now,” she adds quickly.

Instead of responding, Natasha leaves the elevator without another word.

Your ex’s reassurance does little to ease the irritation that she feels at not yet having been able to say those words to you herself.

The two of them arrive at the door of your office, only to find it locked with the lights turned off.

Just as Natasha is about to text you to ask you about your whereabouts, you emerge from around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of her.

Confused at your flustered state, Natasha gives you a questioning look as she asks, “Why are you rushing?”

You take a couple of deep breaths to catch your breath before answering.

“Because…I didn’t want to…to leave you waiting.”

Natasha feels her heart flutter at your words, her posture relaxing for a moment.

“…wow…you look good, Y/n,” your ex comments.

Natasha’s body immediately tenses again at the reminder of your ex’s presence, and she becomes further annoyed when she takes in the state of your appearance that prompted the remark from your ex.

You are in your usual workout outfit, a standard black tank top, showcasing your body with a gleam of sweat still on your skin, evidence of your workout session.

As if sensing Natasha’s increasing irritation, your ex gestures awkwardly in fear toward the waiting area some distance away.

“I’ll just wait over there.”

Natasha watches your ex walk away with a slight glare in her eyes.

When she turns back to you, her expression instinctively softens with affection and curiosity.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“My last couple of interviews had to cancel, so I decided to go train for a bit,” you answer with a slight shrug. “You know, since you suggested that I try training whenever I’m bored and have some free time.”

Natasha's lips twist slightly in conflict at your response. She's happy you took her suggestion to heart, but now she's also upset that it led to you appearing in front of your ex in such a state.

Gesturing toward your ex, you ask, “Did she say why she’s here?”

Natasha sighs and shakes her head.

“She only mentioned that it was an old case that you can help her with.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding in understanding, probably already knowing what she’s referring to.

Then you look at Natasha with a cute tilt of your head.

“After I finish up with her, do you want to go out for some lunch?”

A small smile forms on Natasha’s face, her earlier irritation melting away at your suggestion.

However, she knows she might not have enough time to wait and go out before her next meeting.

“How about I go ahead and pick up some takeout first, and then we can have lunch in your office when I return?” Natasha offers as a compromise.

You smile at her in response and press a soft kiss against her cheek.

“It’s a date.”

As you’re about to move past her, Natasha presses her hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back to your original position.

You give her a questioning look in confusion.

“Did you take my hoodie again?” Natasha asks accusingly.

Your eyes dart guiltily to your office before you mutter under your breath with a soft pout, “Maybe.”

Natasha nods slightly in contemplation, her eyes glancing at where your ex was waiting and then back to you.

“Put it on,” she says plainly.

You raise a brow at her in confusion and gesture to your body.

“Nat, I’m covered in sweat. I didn’t get a chance to hit the showers before you texted,” you explain.

“That text didn’t mean that you should come here all hot and sweaty in front of your ex like this,” Natasha remarks pointedly, crossing her arms.

A teasing grin pulls at your lips as a look of understanding crosses your face.

“You think I look hot right now?” you ask happily.

“Seriously?” Natasha deadpans.

Unbothered by her signature intimidating gaze, you pull her closer by the loops on her belt and lean in with a slight tilt of your head.

“Are you jealous?” you tease lightly, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you try to hide your pleased grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She knows whether she responds truthfully or not, you probably already know the answer without the help of your ability, so she responds instead.

“Keep it up, and I’ll just come back with one takeout box for myself,” she warns.

You laugh lightly at her response, nodding your head in concession.

“Alright, I’ll put it on,” you promise, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

As you pull away, you whisper, “I love you,” the words brushing softly against her lips.

Natasha’s eyes had fluttered closed at the touch of your kiss, but they snapped open when she remembered she wanted to say those words back to you too.

However, to her disappointment, before she realized it, you had disappeared from her side.

Turning around, she finds you already in your office, putting on her hoodie.

A mocking chuckle sounds beside her, and she turns to see Loki leaning casually against the wall.

“Oh, you didn’t even try that time,” he taunts.

Without hesitation, Natasha raises her wrist and shoots a widow bite at him. It flies through his body, dispersing the apparition that he had left there.

Groaning in annoyance at his presence, Natasha quickly leaves to go get your lunches before he can reappear and provoke her further.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So this is the one lie detector that you can’t beat,” Fury comments with intrigue, as he examines your file.

Natasha closes the folder promptly and takes it from the table in front of him, stating firmly, “Her name’s Y/n, and no, you can’t have her. She’s just going to help review the list of potential recruits for you. Nothing else.”

She gives him a pointed look, stressing, “Especially not any SHIELD interrogations.”

Leaning back in his chair, Fury chuckles amusedly and raises a brow at her.

“Protective, are we?”

Before she can affirm the lengths she would go to minimize the risks you have to take, the door slams open, and you stroll in, giving her a wave and a charming smile.

You stop in front of her, taking her hand suddenly in yours and giving it a light swing.

“Ready to get started?” you ask.

Natasha’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Something about your behavior was off and unlike you.

She examines your expression critically, and then in one swift, fluid motion, she grabs your wrist and upper arm, pivots on her heel, and shifts her weight, seamlessly flipping you over her shoulder.

With a resounding thud, Natasha slams you down onto the meeting table, the impact rattling the room.

Fury whistles lowly with a slight wince, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his tone.

“Tough love, huh?” he remarks to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his comment and shakes her head, reaching to her side to grab something. She takes one of “your” wrists and snaps a golden cuff onto it.

Immediately, the figure on the table shifts from your face and form to Loki’s.

His eyes glare at her as he gathers his bearings, giving a slight grunt of pain when he moves.

“As if this woman knows anything about love,” he scoffs, standing up from the table with a groan.

Fury hums curiously at the sight of the trickster god, turning to Natasha.

“Who let him in here?”

Natasha sighs as she crosses her arms, replying, “Unfortunately, Thor and he are on friendly terms at the moment.”

Loki raises his hand and waves his finger at her in reprimand.

“Exactly. Now, is this any way to treat a guest of yours?” he taunts with a smirk before his eyes drift to the cuff on his wrist. His expression falls in recognition. “Where did you get this?”

A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she answers, “Thor lent it to me when I asked. Since I know better than to just take his things.”

The cuff in question is an enchanted artifact that temporarily blocks the magical abilities of the wearer as explained by the god of thunder.

Loki scoffs in disbelief, placing one hand on his hips while waving his other wrist at her.

“Hilarious, now take these off,” he demands.

Natasha’s smirk remains fixed as she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the key,” she admits, tapping her chin thoughtfully before revealing, “It must still be with Thor. But I’m sure you’ve already apologized to him for earlier, so you’d have no problem asking him to release you.”

Loki scowls, his expression darkening with disdain, and then he swiftly turns toward the exit.

“It’s no wonder that girl doesn’t want to accept any love from the likes of you,” he spits out angrily.

Natasha’s lips twist downward at his words, but before she can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the tense moment.

Taking a calming breath, she calls out, “Come in,” already knowing who it is.

You open the door at Natasha’s invitation, only to dodge out of the way as Loki storms past you out of the room, muttering angry curses under his breath.

Turning back to Natasha, you notice the telltale red aura fading from around her and wonder what was the lie that you assume she had just told him.

As you approach her, Natasha’s contemplative, sullen expression quickly shifts to a neutral one when she catches your concerned gaze.

Before you can question her about it, Fury claps his hands firmly, looking between the two of you.

“Alright, let's finish this quickly then.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Seated on your sofa, Natasha hugs a cushion pillow closer to her chest, seeking comfort as Loki’s harsh words echo in her mind.

Is it just a coincidence that you manage to avoid her every time she’s about to say those words to you? Or is it possible that the truth is you don’t actually want to hear those words from her?

You place a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as you finish explaining what your ex needed from you.

“So, I just need to submit my notes on the case so that the court can close it out,” you explain.

Natasha hums absently in acknowledgment, but her mind drifts back to her insecurities.

Was Loki just messing with her or were all of your previous evading actions really on purpose?

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Natasha decides to settle this once and for all.

As you take your seat next to her and start the movie, Natasha initiates her plan. She quickly maneuvers herself over your lap, straddling you as her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing you firmly against the sofa with her body.

Your hand automatically rests on her waist and begins tracing light patterns against her side, but your lips twist into a small pout of confusion as you remark, “As exciting as this is, I thought this movie was your favorite.”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly, internally groaning at your adorable words and how incredibly in love she is with you.

If only you could hear it from her for once.

Determined to not fail this time, she tries again.

“I lo—”

Her words are cut off, swallowed by you, as you pull her down into a deep kiss.

Instinctively, she melts against your body, sliding her hands to caress the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss as she gets lost in the feeling of your lips moving against hers.

Then, realization hits her, and she snaps her eyes open and pulls away.

“Hold on, I’m trying to tell you that I—”

“I know,” you interrupt, your hand covering her mouth to stop her mid-sentence.

That’s when Natasha sees it.

The fear in your eyes.

“I know,” you repeat, giving her a look of understanding before swallowing nervously.

You close your eyes as your head drops to your chest, a sad chuckle escaping from you.

“You know, in all my life, I have never been afraid to discover if someone was lying to me,” you admit, shrugging lightly. “I’ve always known that people can lie, so it’s never really surprising or hurtful when it happens.”

You let out a weary sigh and look up to meet her gaze with a sad smile.

“Except for that one time.”

Natasha knows what moment you are referring to — the night your powers revealed that your ex no longer loved you.

The memory flashes in your mind, vivid and raw, as if it happened only yesterday. The betrayal, the heartache, the crushing realization when the red aura appeared around her after she uttered those fateful three words to you.

Your attention returns to the woman in front of you, the one who helped heal your heart. The one who now holds it.

The one who also has the power to hurt you in the exact same way, even though you know she won’t.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you say with breathless adoration and honesty, but your expression pinches in fear as you continue, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t think I'm ready to hear it from you yet. Just…not those exact words.”

You sigh sadly, understanding how unfair your words are to her, and your chest tightens guiltily as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Look, I’d understand if you want to leave.”

You look away from Natasha, your mouth pressing together tightly, fighting the urge to cry.

The silence stretches out in the room before Natasha gently cradles your face, bringing your gaze back to her.

“You make me happy,” Natasha declares firmly.

You give her a confused look at her words.

“Wh-what?”

Ignoring your question, Natasha continues, asking meaningfully, “Am I lying?”

Your eyes observe her for a moment, but you don’t see any indication of a red aura appearing.

“No,” you answer in confusion.

Natasha nods before continuing, “I don’t mind that your powers reveal truths about me, like the moments when I want to hold your hand or when I’m jealous.”

She tilts her head at you in question.

“Am I lying?” she asks again.

Still not seeing any red aura appear around her, you shake your head at her in response.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, letting out a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m afraid that one day…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to admit out loud.

“…one day you’ll wake up and decide that because of who I was, who I am now is not enough for you to stay with me anymore.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you go to reassure her, “I wouldn’t—”

“Am I lying?” Natasha interrupts, not wanting you to worry about comforting her at this time.

Your eyes soften sadly when you see the vulnerability and fear in her eyes at her words.

You reach up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her face gently in comfort as you whisper, “No.”

Leaning against your touch, Natasha lets out a steadying breath to compose herself for the final part of her point.

“So when I say I can wait…” she pauses, looking into your eyes with a serious and determined expression, making sure you can see the sincerity of her next words.

“…I’ll wait for as long as you need so that one day I can say those words to you…am I lying?”

You watch her carefully for a moment, but nothing appears to counter her claim. Realizing her intentions to reveal her feelings in another way, your heart fills with love and adoration for her as you answer with a soft smile.

“No, you’re not lying, Natasha.”

She gives you a gentle grin and cups your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before admitting, “That’s because when I’m with you, Y/n, it never feels like I’m living a lie.”

A breathless, awed gasp escapes from you at her words, and you can’t help but pull her in closer, her red hair falling around you like a curtain.

“I love you,” you whisper against her lips, the words filled with genuine adoration for the woman.

Natasha smiles softly at your words and closes the distance between the two of you once again, her kisses tender and filled with all of her unspoken feelings. Her lips move against yours with gentle urgency, conveying everything she can’t yet say aloud.

The warmth of her touch, the sincerity of her kiss, and the way she holds you protectively — all of it reassures you.

It doesn’t matter that those three words haven’t been spoken explicitly — her actions, her presence, the look in her eyes says it all already.

Natasha may be considered one of the greatest spies in the world thanks in part to her exceptional ability to lie, but even she can’t hide the truth from you.

Without needing to hear her utter those fateful three words aloud, you already know the truth in your heart.

That Natasha Romanoff truly loves you too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the love that you all gave to the first part! I hope you enjoyed this one too!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

Text

Zombie! König NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Mentions of Breeding, Implied Forced Pregnancy/Eggnancy, Stomach Bulging, Restraining, Unprotected Sex, Monster Fucking, Zombie Fucking, Implied Yandere König, Possessive König, Jealous König, Zombie! König, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Your current condition, that being thoroughly incapacitated, used and spent, had been the result of König’s jealousy, his possession of you.

All it took was for him to see you speaking with another survivor – one which had materialised out of nowhere – a little too enthusiastically.

Not that anyone could blame you; he was the first living person you’d seen in months, and you to him, too.

Until König showed up. Lumbering and mammoth and disease-ridden, he rocked up to you on creaking bones and stiffened joints, his deathly condition apparent in every facet of his being, from his gait to the stale blood staining his tactical gear.

The other survivor took one look at him and didn’t even hesitate before he all but took flight, bolting in the opposite direction.

You weren’t a fool. You knew König had done it on purpose.

He may be undead, but he was smart. Too smart.

Later that evening, you didn’t even look at König, instead bundling up in your room within the decrepit confines of your hideout while König ruminated.

If he could, he was sure his heart would squeeze, his throat would constrict at the prospect of upsetting you.

But, either because of his decaying state or something more carnal clouding his remorse.

The thought of that man, just some guy, touching you…

König’s eye twitched. His teeth gritted together, grinding.

The longer he stewed in the what-ifs – what if he hadn’t been there to frighten off his competition, what if that survivor had had his way with you – the less human he felt. The stronger the parasite’s instincts became, a chanting, goading, incipient voice that urged him to succumb to his feral ways.

Despite his stature, König was deceptively quiet. As much was apparent when you turned, your anger making it impossible to get comfortable, only to see König stood over you, watching you, your bedroom door swung open.

König gave you little time to process his arrival, to process that his appearance was not the extension of an olive branch – an apology – but a siege on your defences.

It wasn’t hard for König to pin you down, both with his weight and his strength as his hands kept your wrists welded to the mattress.

He snarled, his veil doing nothing to muffle the carnality in his tone, the voice of the parasite urging him to act. Now.

You tried to fight him off. Tried to call his name – the one you’d both settled on when you first met — tried to reason with the small part of him that was still human.

Little did you know that he, the last remaining thread which tethered König to the Living, was responsible for this.

You see, König is not the sharing type. A lesson you learned too late, it would seem.

The reason why König was bearing down on you now, trying not to rock his hips against yours as he collared your wrists together beneath his palm and fumbled with stiffened fingers for the zipper of his trousers was rooted solely in envy.

And now, freed of his pants, König’s cock stood stiff against his stomach. His hand, free now, gripped your jeans by the hem. Tore them off. A button pinged into a corner. You yelped.

Despite having dreamt of this moment for almost the entirety of your travels together, nothing in König’s dying mind could have prepared him for the rush he felt as you writhed, tried not to enable him with your whines when his drooling tip caught you.

König stuffed you full of him, and a sword of ice penetrated you, filled you.

You gasped, your back arching and your mouth dropping open as you struggled to take both his size and his piercing, freezing, bulbous cock.

You felt it twitch inside you. Pulse. And the only thought that crossed your mind was that something of a parasitic nature must be crawling through his veins, trying to get to you. Get into you.

Of course, that was not the case. König ever would have acted on his instincts if he’d known you were at risk of leading an almost-eternity of rot like him. He cared that much for you, at least.

Even if he had perceived your talking to that other lone survivor earlier as an act of disloyalty.

Deep down, he knows it wasn’t. You and König weren’t even dating, so how could it be?

Zombie instincts. And König’s naturally domineering, possessive nature. That’s how it could be.

König had to hold back the feeling, the need, to pump you full of his cum right then and there as he saw a long, thick bump form in your middle.

Him.

König growled. You whimpered. Something cold, viscous, tricked into you.

The avantmath of König’s excitement.

König’s eyes, though mulled over with a haze that suggested vacancy, were still an ice blue. Watching and heavy.

As was his cock halfway mounted inside you. It almost pinned you to the mattress itself with just how much of it there was, no doubt enlarged some by the parasite, the disease. Which, if the rest of König was to go by, wasn’t the only thing it engorged.

König’s frame possessed muscularity you didn’t even think possible on a man, his arms bulging, larger than your head, his thighs almost bursting from his pants as he bent over your figure, his trousers pulled taut over his muscles, just below his hips.

You stifled a sob, the air knocked out of you, as König began to move. Slowly, at first, the notion of intimacy having become a lost skill to him.

As he grew used to the motion of withdrawing and plunging back in, he grew faster. Harsher.

He could see from the furrow in your brow, the gritting of your teeth, the clenching of your jaw, that taking him was painful. Un-customary for your…relationship.

And though his chest would have panged with the knowledge that he, of everyone in the wasteland, was the one hurting you, his body was no longer privy to such reactions.

Instead, he pressed his hips to yours, tried manoeuvring you so that he could take you from a deeper angle, and slid further.

He bit back a grunt, his grip about your wrists tightening. You let out a yelp, these new inches of not only length but girth almost splitting you open. At least, that’s how it felt.

König built to and kept his feral pace, fucking you like an animal, giving you little time to breathe and him little time to think about what he was doing.

All he thought about was making you his. About making sure everything, living and otherwise, who came upon you in the wasteland would know you belonged to him.

Though, with what he was planning on doing to you, he knew you wouldn’t be going outside again.

Against your mind’s judgement, your body wanted König. That much was clear in the way you ceased fighting him off, instead trying to push into him, trying to take him deeper.

Your actions were not lost on König. But, given how his face was clouded not only with his veil, but with his lust, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they were.

Eventually, König’s weight and speed proved to be too much.

You cried out, as if for the only other survivor in the city to hear you, to save you.

König released a growl, a howl, as his cold, congealed, thickened cum pumped into you.

You could feel it, like water through a hose. Could feel König’s veins twitching, feel yourself getting full from his load.

Against your better judgement, you wrapped your legs about König’s torso, as if to stop even an ounce of his semen from escaping.

You didn’t have to look down to know that your stomach was filling up like a balloon – that König had completely and utterly made you his from the inside out.

You couldn’t see the way König’s jaw hung open, couldn’t feel the way his fantasy made his body lock up with electric anticipation.

Not that you knew this, but König knew the infection — the parasite — was evolving.

Once it fully matured, it would give König an opportunity he wouldn’t perceive as golden — gold dust — until he met you.

The ability to lay eggs in a host.

Granted, the idea was not to spread the infection in the living host but to enable the birth of more parasites. But for König, it worked all the same.

And, as he looked down at you, taking his load so easily now, he knew this was not just a possibility, but a reality.

You would start a new life. Together. Him as your protector, your sword and your shield, and you his perfect little incubator, swollen with your shared offspring.

It wouldn’t be long until you’d be begging to bear his offspring. And it wouldn’t be long until he could grant your wish.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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d-z20 · 6 days ago

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Hers and Hers Alone

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha Harkness’s possessive nature burns brighter than ever when she claims you, not just with her words but with her magic. In the charged intimacy of her study, the line between dominance and devotion blurs, leaving no doubt that you belong entirely to her.

-OR-

She marks you with a magic tattoo cause you're oblivious to people flirting with you

Warnings: Possessive Agatha, reader is an idiot when it comes to flirting, magical marking, jealousy/obsession, claiming trope, slight angst, kind of dark romance is implied (at least their relationship is in my head), some dom/sub dynamics, reader gets called a good girl

Words: 1.9k

A/N: FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU :P I errrr had carried this fic into the smut but then realised the request didn't ask for it so I guess what happened will just stay in my head :))

AO3 | Masterlist

Agatha Harkness always gets what she wants.

That’s the first thing you learnt when you fell into her orbit—her sharp eyes, her wicked smirk, the way her presence alone felt like it could strip you bare. It wasn’t just her power that made her dangerous; it was her confidence, the knowledge that she could claim you with nothing more than a look. And claim you, she did.

Tonight, that claim becomes permanent.

It starts earlier in the evening, though you’re far too oblivious to notice. Another witch—a newcomer to your coven—has been lingering a little too close, her compliments flowing like honey, her hand brushing yours just a bit too often. You think nothing of it, laughing at her jokes and responding with your usual warmth, but Agatha sees it all. She sits across the room, her wine glass in hand, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends lesser witches scattering. It’s subtle at first—the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head—but as the other witch leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, Agatha’s smile falters, replaced by something far sharper.

Jen sidles up beside her, an amused glint in her eye as she tracks Agatha’s gaze. “You’re going to set the room on fire if you keep glaring like that,” she says dryly.

“Perhaps,” Agatha mutters, her tone deceptively smooth. “But how could anyone blame me?" Her gaze flicks briefly to Jen before settling back on you.

Jen’s laughter is soft, a knowing sound that holds no pity. “She’s not doing anything. It’s you who sees it as a challenge.”

“A challenge easily won,” Agatha snaps, her irritation slipping through. Still, she doesn’t move. Not yet. She knows you too well to make a scene in public. No, this required precision.

—

The air buzzes with conversation, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that dance across the stone walls and when you finally turn toward her, your face brightens at the sight of her. You weave through everybody, the scent of burning herbs mingling with the faint tang of red wine, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a brief touch of hands that only fuel Agatha’s determination. By the time you reach her, she has composed herself into a picture of calm.

“You’re being antisocial again,” you tease lightly, tilting your head to study her. “Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” she replies smoothly, though her voice dips into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Although perhaps you should.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Agatha steps closer, her fingers brushing your wrist lightly. The contact sparks against your skin, her magic coiling beneath the surface. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of her presence settle over you like a velvet cloak.

“You’ve been quite generous with your attention tonight,” she says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your heart skip. “Perhaps too generous.”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” She laughs low and dangerous. “No, darling. Jealousy is for those who doubt their place. I know exactly where I stand. Do you?”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and then Agatha’s fingers trail up your arm, her touch deliberate and slow, leaving behind a faint, smouldering heat. The air between you thickens, charged with her magic and something even more primal. Her breath brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t understand yet,” she whispers, her tone laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”

“Come with me,” she commands, making your pulse race.

Agatha doesn’t speak as she pulls you down the hallway, her grip firm but not painful, though there’s no mistaking the fire in her movements. You trail after her, a little breathless from trying to keep up, still half-confused about what’s gotten into her. It’s not until she shoves open the door to her study and drags you inside that she finally stops, turning to face you. The door clicks shut behind you with a wave of her hand, the air in the room thickening, charged with something electric and unrelenting.

“Agatha—” you start, but her sharp look cuts you off.

“Do you enjoy parading yourself like that?” she asks, her voice deceptively soft as she steps closer. “Letting them think they have the right to touch what’s mine?” The words cut like a knife, her tone equal parts petal and thorn, daring you to challenge her claim.

Her words sting, but there’s a flicker of defiance in your chest. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, yet the weight of her gaze makes you second-guess yourself. “What? She was just being nice."

“Nice.” Agatha repeats, a dark chuckle escaping her lips as she closes the distance between you. “That wasn’t ‘nice,’ darling. She was flirting. And you…" Agatha pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—not doubt, exactly, but something close. Vulnerability that is quickly buried under her usual sharpness. “You’re far too sweet to see it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat as her thumb brushes your bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter. “You’re mine,” she says softly, almost like a warning, her eyes darkening as she leans in. “You can laugh and smile at the others all you want,” she continues, her voice like silk laced with steel. “But they’ll never know you the way I do. They’ll never touch you like this.”

Your breath hitches; your body already betraying you as heat pools in your stomach. Agatha’s hands move to your shoulders, steady and deliberate as she turns you around to face the desk. You feel the press of her body against your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in. “Don’t move,” she murmurs, the command dripping with authority.

You stand still, barely daring to breathe, though your mind races. The weight of her gaze, the heat of her power, wraps around you like an unrelenting grip. A thrill courses through your chest—half fear, half longing—as you realise what she’s about to do. This is more than a claim; it’s a declaration, a tether, and deep down, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to break free.

Agatha brushes her fingers down the column of your throat and across your collarbone before stopping over your chest. Her touch is gentle, but the power swirling from her is anything but.

“Right here,” she murmurs, her voice a dark velvet caress. Her fingers brush over your chest, leaving a tingling trail of magic in their wake. “This is where my claim belongs—above your heart, so no one ever forgets who it beats for.”

A surge of violet magic blooms from her palm, tendrils of shimmering light twisting and curling as they seep into your skin. It’s not just energy—it’s alive, sparking and crackling like a storm contained within your chest. Heat rushes through you, both foreign and familiar, as if her power is carving itself into your very being.

You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Agatha mumbles soft incantations under her breath. When she pulls her hand away, your heart is racing, and you feel it—a faint, lingering hum where her magic settled.

“Look,” she instructs, her voice soft yet commanding.

There, etched into your skin in delicate, curling lines of violet, are Agatha’s initials. It’s an ancient and commanding mark, pulsing faintly with magic. You feel it thrum in time with your heartbeat, as though Agatha herself has left a piece of her soul imprinted onto you.

You blink, lips parted in surprise, but before you can speak, Agatha’s fingers ghost over the mark. The second she touches it, a wave of pleasure rushes through you, leaving you trembling as a choked gasp escapes your throat.

“Sensitive, isn’t it?” She murmurs, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe now you’ll remember who owns you.”

You shiver under her touch, the magic from the mark sparking with every deliberate brush of her fingers. She leans in close, her voice a low purr against your ear. “And if you ever let anyone get that close again, I’ll make sure you cannot walk for days, darling. Do you understand?”

You swallow hard, nodding wordlessly, and Agatha hums approvingly. “Good girl.”

Agatha’s approval drips like honey into your veins, the warmth of her magic lingering just beneath your skin. Your body betrays you completely—breath shaky, pulse fluttering, and heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of her fingers near the freshly marked skin pulls a soft gasp from your lips, and you can feel her smile against your ear.

“Sensitive already,” she husks with dark amusement, the words sending a fresh shiver down your spine. Her fingertips ghost over the mark again, just enough to make your knees buckle, and you clutch at the edge of the desk for support. “Such a pretty reaction. I could play with you like this for hours, you know. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

"Agatha,” you breathe, her name tumbling from your lips in a desperate mix of frustration and longing.

She tsks softly, her free hand trailing down your side, gripping your hip firmly enough to hold you in place. “Do you feel it yet?” she asks softly, tilting your chin up to force your gaze on her. “The way you need me now?” Her voice drops lower, the teasing edge softening into something deeper, more possessive. “That mark isn’t just to ward off wandering hands, love. It’s a tether. A reminder of exactly who you belong to.”

You can only nod, unable to find your voice as the thrum of magic beneath your skin grows more insistent. The mark feels alive—Agatha’s initials pulsing faintly, like they’re echoing your own heartbeat. The sensation deepens when she leans closer, her lips just grazing the sensitive skin below your jaw, and you let out a shaky whimper before you can stop yourself.

“That’s it,” Agatha whispers against your neck, her breath sending another ripple of arousal through you. Her lips curl into a smirk as she presses a kiss there, followed by a deliberate flick of her tongue. “You’re already so desperate. My mark is working beautifully.”

Her hand trails down the front of your body, teasing but never quite satisfying the ache that’s grown unbearable. “I could make you cum just by touching it,” she continues, her voice like velvet as she strokes a single finger lightly over the mark once more. The pleasure spikes instantly—so sharp and overwhelming that your head falls back with a gasp, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt for relief.

Agatha pulls back just enough to watch the way you tremble, utterly at her mercy. “Tell me, darling. Do you understand now? Do you know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you manage, the word escaping in a breathless, desperate whisper.

Her smirk widens. “Say it.”

“You, Agatha,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I belong to you.”

“Good girl,” she hums, her voice softer now, almost tender. Her fingers trace the edge of the mark, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. “You wear it beautifully,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss just above the sigil. Her magic lingers there, warm and possessive, as she cups your cheek with a rare gentleness. “Mine,” she whispers again, more for herself than you.

-----

I just need to take a moment to appreciate the way Kathryn looks at the camera in the gif used at the start... the woman is staring into my soul and ughhhh the piercingssssss 😩😩😩

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Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony

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