#breeding tw

[mintmatcha]

whining about how his cock is too big and it's stretching your pussy when he leans in and goes "You're gonna thank me for stretching you out when it's time to push my brat out."

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

[malew1fed]

absolutely fucking desperate writhing around on my back for cock. teeth gnashing screaming crying. literally i could not care less from who rn,,, need to be pinned down, feel someones entire body weight on top of me while their balls smack against my tcock in time with them thrusting into my cunt. can almost feel them slamming into my cervix, i love the discomfort bc it shows just how bad they want to breed me <3 hot breath against my neck, teeth sinking into my shoulder as they shudder through their orgasm and fucking fill me. ((this is also applicable for straps. my holes are always available for straps <3))

[suguwu]

f!reader x diluc, established relationship, breeding, mating press, clothed sex, references to pregnancy (bc breeding), lil bit of cumplay, technically semi-public sex bc of how many staff there are in the manor.

minors and blogs without an age listed dni

diluc is a deliberate man.

you know that he can run as wild as his flames, his passion—be it fury or otherwise—flaring high. there's always a deep intensity crackling just beneath his skin.

but despite that, and outside of his reckless moments in the heat of battle, he is a careful, deliberate man.

your guests have just departed in the night, trailed by whirling crystalflies, drifting behind them like lost little stars. the heavy front door shuts, and diluc slowly turns around. he looks at you.

"diluc?" you ask.

he's still.

it reminds you of earlier this evening, actually, when he'd gone just as still, like a prelude to a storm. it was after the youngest guest—a genteel woman just coming into her own—had been speaking to you and your husband, her eyes bright and her smile eager.

he stares at you. his ruby eyes have darkened, sharpened. his fingers flex, and his tongue peeks out from behind his pink lips for just a breath.

you suddenly remember that the woman had been telling you how pretty you'll be when you're pregnant. that she just knew you'd have the most beautiful glow.

oh, you think.

diluc is a careful, deliberate man.

so you’re surprised to find yourself on your back on the floor, panties pushed to the side and hips hiked high, as he fucks you hard and deep. your skirts are pooling around you both; he has one hand knotted in a frilled hem to keep it out of his way.

all you can do is sink a hand into his crimson waves and hold on, warbling his name on particularly vicious thrusts. it's hard to ground yourself, considering how you're still used to his more awkward moments, still used to him finding his bearings in the bedroom.

he’s murmuring—sometimes practically growling—about how good you’ll look when you’re round with his child, how you're the perfect wife, how he’s gonna fill up your pretty cunt like you deserve. you wouldn’t even be able to hear his filthy words over the slap of skin on skin if his lips weren’t right next to your ear. you tighten your grip in his hair and moan as he thrusts deep.

he braces himself and folds you up like a paper crane, pushing you into a mating press that tests your limits, and you sob out your orgasm as he pinches at your clit. when he cums, he buries his face in your neck with a sound you’ve never heard from him before.

he keeps your hips up when he pulls out, and your face gets hotter and hotter as you realize he’s just staring at your dripping cunt. you clench under his gaze. you can feel some of his cum slip from you and start to trickle down your sore cunt, but diluc—sweat gleaming on his collarbone from beneath his half-open shirt and his red, red eyes still dilated—reaches forward and pushes it back into you with his long fingers.

"hold still," he tells you, his gaze hungry. he twists his fingers inside of you, pushing cum deeper still. at your little cry, he leans forward to press a soft, soothing kiss to your lips before pulling back.

"keep it inside until i can fill you up again."

[mintmatcha]

idk I'm ovulating but a nice older nanami who tells you thst the only think you have to worry about is having his babies- leave everything else to him

[yanderu-deredere]

I don’t know if you’re taking reqs or thirsts? So you don’t have to answer this, but how about a scenario with Fujio? His breeding kink just shining through. He has reader in a mating press and is just going at it. Anywho, I hope you have a good day and your blog is very aesthetic!! <3!!

a/n: alexa, play tik tok sound ive been waitin for this one! jokes aside loool thank you so much for this blessed ask forreal, i just love this so so much and i love being able to write for this bastard horny man! hope you likey? might make a not second part to this but like an alternate part where its dude darling... we'll see

warning: female parts and pronouns, slight implications of a chubbier reader, breeding kink, kind of a little bit of objectification and misogynism (references to women in the kitchen/in the household/as homemakers), degredation

fujio watanabe ★ profile

Honestly, Fujio didn’t know where this hunger came from. 

He had just come from work; he had lugged what felt like thousands of pounds of drugs and equipment through the docks, he was sweating and exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep for a hundred years.

Then, you came in like a mirage in the middle of a desert. You were in the kitchen with an apron tied around your waist, your hips swaying almost hypnotically and your voice humming melodically. 

It was like the first time he saw you.

If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that there was a spotlight shining on you, for Christ’s sake. There was just something about you cooking for him in his kitchen, so peaceful and happy, just there, in his house, after a day of him working so he could provide for you.

He groaned as he immediately felt himself chub in his jeans.

“Fuji?” You called out, not even turning around to look at him, too busy chopping something in front of you. He could hear the rhythmic thump of the metal against the cutting board. 

Instead of responding, he just dropped his duffel bag onto the floor and surged forward, ignoring his aching muscles in favour of satiating this new lust that he could feel filling his cock.

“How was work?” You asked him pleasantly, apparently unaware of the oncoming storm. 

It didn’t take long for you to figure it out, though, because he was immediately pressing his hard-on against your ass, grinding it between your cheeks as a way to relieve the burning ache as his fingers desperately worked to remove your pants.

“Fujio!” You dropped the knife to grab his wrists to stop him but, like always, the bull-headed man completely disregarded you.

Instead, he pressed a kiss to the back of your ear and then started mouthing at your neck “Missed you at work. Dunno, got really horny seeing you cooking.”

“What the hell does that mean!” You tried not to moan as he sucked a hickey into your skin but, instead of answering your question, he just pulled your pants down to your ankles.

You would’ve huffed indignantly at him but, before you could, he wrapped an arm around your waist and manhandled you to face the dining table. Then, with a broad palm, he pressed you down onto it, bending you forward.

“I can never get tired of this view.” Fujio chuckled as he thumbed his bottom lip before, just as hastily as he had dealt with your pants, he undid his, freeing his hard beefy cock and letting it bounce against your ass. 

“Now, le’see…” Without hesitation, his strong calloused hand cupped your thick thigh and raised it, propping it up onto the table so he could get to the real treasure.

“You complain too much for someone who’s drippin’, huh?” He chuckled in that arrogant way that made you want to kick him but, before you could really retort, he was already pressing a finger into your cunt, the stretch of it forcing your hips to flex a little bit.

There was no give, though. Fujio was nothing if not strong and you were held in place by both his body caging you in and his hand holding you down.

In fact, your squirming only succeeded in grinding you against him and that did nothing but rile him up. In retaliation, Fujio already instinctively knew how to crook his finger to make you absolutely gush. 

You whined and squirmed even more which, in turn, had him pushing another finger in you, plunging both of them as deep as they could go, scissoring them and stretching them apart to prepare your walls for his rather hefty dick.

The stretch, of course, teetered between pleasure and pain, in that area that pushed you closer to an orgasm but pulled you away from it all at the same time. It was a familiar sensation that Fujio loved to give you and that you, more or less, loved to receive. 

“You sure are wriggly today, huh?” He laughed again in that deep rumbling haughty way of his and then, suddenly, you felt his hand leave your back. Before you could rise, though, you felt the sharp sting of his palm against your ass.

You only had time to yelp before, again, you felt it on the other cheek and then, again, on the first cheek. Each time, Fujio could feel you clench so hard on his fingers that it made his dick throb painfully. 

While you were distracted with the painful tingle, Fujio pulled his fingers out, using his now soaked hand to grab his dick and guide them to your equally as soaked pussy entrance. He knew you’d yell at him for the inadequate foreplay but he was a man possessed and he needed to be in you like yesterday.

Without hesitating, he thrust his entire cock in you, relishing in the way your folds parted for him so easily. You let out a choked gasp that had him groaning into your throat.

Fujio’s cock always stung whenever he thrust it in on a good day and that was since he was just that big. But, without the proper preparation this time around, he leaned closer to pain than pleasure this time around. 

The fact that his fingers, now not so preoccupied with your pussy, focused on your clit helped a little bit, though. 

“God, I’ll never get fuckin’ tired of how soft ya’ are.” He muttered, sounding absolutely enamoured before he started pulling his hips back.

You let out a little mewling sob when he did, probably because it felt like he was pulling everything out with his thick cock, before choking out another gasp when he pushed it back in even faster. He gradually got faster and faster, his thrusts getting harder and harder til even the table was creaking under the both of you. 

“You know, bet this soft li’l pussy’d be perfect for a baby, huh?” He suddenly grunted into your ear, his chest suddenly pressing hard against your back and his arm wrapping loosely around your neck. He wasn’t suffocating you but he was definitely trapping you under him.

“Bet I could fill you--” He groaned low as he hit a particularly hard thrust “Bet I could fill you to the brim like the li’l cumdump ya’ are, keep you in the kitchen, make you the perfect li’l mommy?”

You tried your hardest to shake your head, your hands moving to claw at his arms at an attempt to get him to let you go but he just chuckled and kept fucking you like an animal, with just one thought in his mind.

“God, I can just feel your warm li’l womb try’na suck my cum out, baby.” He moaned, nipping at your ear before moving down to suck a hickey into your neck “You sure you don’t want it? Your pussy’s milkin’ me.”

Before you could even shout in argument, you were hit with a hard orgasm. Your nails dug into his skin, your entire body fighting to try and curl into itself. He laughed, the loudest he has since he’s gotten back, hearty and boisterous, like he’d just proven his point and, really, hadn’t he?

His thrusts renewed in vigour and, after a couple more, he finally did one strong push and came, his cum warm and sticky as it spurted inside you as deep as it could go.

As if to taunt you even more, he leaned down, arm still around your neck tightening just a bit “You’re mine, you breeding bitch. Remember that."

[wordsbymae]

The Mad King Pt.2 18+

Title: The First Night

Pairing: OC (male) x Fem! reader

TW: Discussion of death, slapping, crying, DUB CON!!!!!! Talks of pregnancy, breeding (don't look at me with those judgy eyes), aggression, manhandling, misogyny, crybaby reader (it is justified, also I cry at everything so I thought that it would be a natural reaction), also might have taken some liberties and made reader a girly girl but it's my story so sit down and have fun. Hopefully, you don't find it annoying. If I missed anything please tell me!

Notes: Please, please, please read TW^^^, This one is gonna be much darker than what I have ever written before, so while it might not be as dark as other content creators or what you would imagine it would be, I would feel much better if everyone still read the tags and would their own discretion to proceed or not.

Part 1, Alphabet

You were trying to decide between a sky blue chiffon evening gown and a lilac silk day dress. They each had their own advantages and disadvantages. The chiffon gown had strings of diamonds floating from the top of the sleeves down to your waist, gently enveloping your arms. When they hit the light it gave the impression that you were bathed in a silver halo and the material was made in such a way that it kept you cool. But it was heavy and was more of a sitting dress. Standing for too long, or lord forbid, dancing, was out of the question. The first and only time you danced with it on, the diamonds scraped your skin as you twirled and you ended up having deep red marks littering your arms. The lilac silk day dress had gorgeous lace trim detailing flowers and vines and the colour made your skin look fresh and glowing. It was also light enough you almost felt like you were wearing nothing. But it was made for cooler weather and it stuck to your skin and left sweat marks up your back in warmer climates. Today the castle felt cool, but you could feel the heat radiating from your glass windows as you pondered the choice.

If only your fiance had told you what he had planned for this evening, then you would be able to choose a practical and reasonable dress. Why is it that men do not understand the need for foresight? All he had mentioned was a few hours alone, (including your chaperone of course) to get to know each other before your wedding in a week's time. But what if that meant a picnic in the gardens (then the sky blue chiffon gown was the obvious choice) or a wander through the palace art displays (then the lilac sky day dress would be the most reasonable solution) or something completely different like a ride through the forest (then you had nothing to wear and everything would be ruined).

In a huff, you slammed your closet shut and allowed yourself to fall back onto your bed. Its soft embrace comforted you, if only by a little bit. You had finished decorating your hair with ribbons and painting your face a few short minutes ago in preparation for the King's return. He promised to only be gone a few hours while hunting with his brother, but he had been gone all morning and now into the majority of the afternoon. A part of you was worried, what if he got hurt? What if he had returned but no longer wished for your company? What if he no longer wanted you as queen? These anxieties plagued you as you lay on your bed in the afternoon light. Just in your chemise, the sunlight felt pleasant against your skin. For a brief moment, You allowed its gentle heat to soothe your worries away and lull you into a light rest.

The sudden sound of trumpets and men calling for the return of the King rushed into your room. Jumping up with a squeal of excitement you rushed over to your closet and ripped it open. Oh, what to wear!!! You knew the king would be coming to see you soon and you had to be all dressed up for him. At first, you were hesitant to get to know the King, hearing tales of how cruel his father had been. But he had been nothing but polite and kind. You even started to become friends. While kindness was a lot more than many women received, you still wanted more. You wanted him to love you. If anything he was too polite and kind. Always keeping his hands a safe distance away unless to help you from your carriage. Always keeping the conversation on international politics, trade, weather and hobbies. If it wasn't for the love letters you would think he had no intention of allowing love to blossom between you two.

The letters began shortly after you arrived and spoke in lengths of your beauty and grace. Of how your skin glowed in the sun and how you rivalled its brilliance. He spoke of your intelligence and cunning. Of your humour and wit. He also spoke of what your life would look like after you two had wed, of all the children you would have. He described to you a fairy tale and oh how it made you fall in love with him. Now you were desperate for him to say those words in the flesh. Maybe it would be tonight, away from the prying eyes of the courters.

As you continued to fret over which dress to wear, you heard the cries of long live the king rise in the air. Oh, how his people loved him! He was a generous and righteous ruler. Finally, you made your decision. A pale cream afternoon gown, with multiple layers of the softest fabric you had ever felt. While it was not as extravagant as your other gowns, it was a favourite of the king. He had mentioned it a number of times in his letters. He had written that the first time he had seen you wear it, he honestly believed an angel had graced his presence.

You listened intently as you heard the servants rush around in the halls outside. He must be close! You quickly got changed and redid any mishaps to your hair and face. Once satisfied, you sat gracefully on the end of your bed and waited for your future love to politely knock on the door to ask to be let in.

A few minutes passed by. Each making you more restless. Surely he should be here soon? You began to daydream of your future husband. Oh, how handsome he was! So strong and brave. He was the best swordsman in the Kingdom, often displaying his talents during the tournaments. You wondered if he would bring you any gifts. Maybe some strawberries or those little cakes you liked. Maybe a string of pearls or a ring of opals. All though if you were being honest you would much prefer another letter of his. He was much more poetic in writing, comparing you to a mountain stream or the petals of a daisy. Harsh footsteps began to make their way towards your room. It's him! You straightened your back and placed a lovely smile on your face ready to allow his presence in your bed chambers.

Instead, the door cracked open and an intruder stood in the doorway. You looked on in confusion as the King's younger (and weirder) brother marched in. His clothes, usually refined and meticulously well kept, were drenched in water and mud, filth falling from him as he made his way towards you.

You jumped up quickly to scold him.

"Oh stop! Stop it! You are leaving filth everywhere!" You exclaimed, gathering your dress in your hands and pushing past him to gaze in horror at the disaster before you. He abruptly stopped and looked on as you surveyed the damage. Boot-shaped mud patches decorated your floor, dirt was sprinkled everywhere and small puddles of water were forming. Oh and the smell! He smelt like death! Putting your hands on your cheeks you turned towards him as he stood silently in the middle of your room.

"Oh, now you're standing on my carpet! My fleece carpet! Oh, get off! Get off!" You cried, rushing towards him to yank him off your once pure white carpet and back on your hardwood flooring. You quickly let go however when you felt how damp his arm was.

"What on earth happened to you? and where is your brother? He is meant to be taking me on an outing." You huffed as you carefully wiped the grot from your hands onto a hand towel. Despite your questioning, he stayed silent, with an odd look on his face.

"Why must you torment me so? Yesterday I found you loitering outside my room and now you've barged in and ruined it!" You turned to him with your hands on your hips. You watched as he turned his head slightly to the right as if he heard something and was trying to listen better.

"Well, would you care to explain yourself? " You demanded, with a stern look on your face. This was crossing a line! You could excuse loitering and the glares he sent your way. You could even forgive that he always stole your fiance away when you were together! The silly excuses he would give, there's a problem with the ministers, a bear has escaped the palace zoo, a trade deal has fallen through! He clearly has never liked you.

You waited for a reply that would never come. Instead, he reached for your legs and threw you over his shoulder. You gave a squeal and began to attack his back with your pounding fists.

"You brute! Put me down this instance! You wait till your brother hears of this! You'll never lay a hand on me again!" Your voice only grew in fever and pitch as you went on.

"My brother is indisposed at the present moment" He stated, his voice prim and proper.

You let out a scream of frustration as he took you from your room and marched down the hall.

"This isn't a game! Release me! As your future queen, I demand you put me down now!" You continued to pound your fists against him.

You gave out a whine as his arm tightened around you.

"Enough" he demanded, his voice like steel.

Tears of frustration began to pool in your eyes. You gave out a sniffle as you slowed your hands to a halt.

"Please will you put me down? " You pleaded, quickly wiping away tears that began to roll down your cheeks.

"Please?"

"No"

A scream of frustration ripped from your lungs.

"Let me go right this second! I am your future Queen and I demand your respect! How dare you place your hands on me? I am to be your brother's Queen and someone like you should never even think of touching me! You don't deserve to!"

Suddenly you were heaved from his shoulder and placed in front of him. For a second you thought that you were finally free. Until his hand cracked against your cheek and pain raced through your face. Your hand quickly went to soothe the pain as tears began to flow freely. You sobbed as he lifted you once more onto his shoulder.

"I said enough"

"Help! Please someone help me! The prince has gone mad!" You sobbed, tears freely pouring down your face and ruining all your hard work by painting it. He continued down the arched hallways, passing servants who quickly scampered away before you could call for them. A flash of silver caught your eye. The Queen's guards! Dressed in their shiny armour and royal blue capes. Your protectors, swearing their lives and loyalty to you, they were under your command, only the King could outrank you.

"Sir! Sir, please save me! Please!" You begged, catching one of their gazes from under their helmet, but they quickly look away. The rest bowed their heads as you passed and refused to look your way. Leaving you to cry out in anguish.

"Why won't any of you do something? Cowards!" You shouted, in total anger and desperation.

Your march ended shortly after, your aggressor slamming opening a door to a large bedroom.

You were once more heaved from his shoulder. Your face still ached from the assault and your nose had begun to block, making it hard to breathe, leaving you gasping for breath between sobs.

" I suppose it has come time to explain myself" He acknowledged.

You stood there in the middle of what you were assuming was his room (not a thing out of place and the curtains looking as if they have refused the sun's rays from entering his rooms for eons) with a hand on your cheek bawling your eyes out.

"Oh come now pet, is that really the way a princess should act?"He chastised. His hands were placed behind his back and his stance was wide and assertive

"You hit me" you whimpered.

"Let us forget the past and look now into the future" he chuckled.

You gave him a strange look, there was something wrong with his face. You did always call him the weird brother.

"What future?" you sniffled. Your tears had slowly stopped and the ache in your cheek was residing

"Why! Our future of course. As King and Queen!" He cheered. You realised what was wrong with his face, he was smiling. Teeth and all.

"You? King? Are you mad?" you scoffed.

"Quite possibly yes"

"Your brother is King, and I am to be his Queen, not yours," you remarked. He was very strange indeed. But all would be right, the King would be coming for you any second now and you would watch in happiness as he punished his brother and those cowards called the Queen's Guards.

"Well, you were to be his Queen. But that was before he was murdered" He reasoned. The smile still stretched across his face.

"Pardon?" you choked. Your hand falling to your side.

"My brother is dead. Murdered. Slaughtered by bandits in the woods. Would you like to hear how he died?"

" Your lying! You must be!" you wailed, fresh tears racing to your eyes.

"Oh no my heart. He is dead. Very much so. In fact, his body should be returning now, would you like to see it?" he offered. His hand reaching out towards his window (the only one with an open curtain).

You rushed towards it, looking out upon the castle courtyard. Sure enough, the King's limp body was being carted into the courtyard. His eyes open and mouth gaping wide. The peasants mourned for their king, weeping and crying, as he passed them. You let out a wail of anguish and fell to your knees. Head in your hands.

"I adore this dress. It makes you look like an angel"

Your cries slowly retreated. Confusion laceing your mind. Lifting your head from your hands you replied.

"Pardon?"

"This dress, it makes you look like an angel. I still remember the first time I saw you in it, you looked like an angel gracing my presence" his smile retreated back down to a smirk.

"Why would you say that?" you accused.

"Because it is the truth my pet"

"Don't call me that, I am not your pet" You barked, eyes narrowed. His brother was dead and he decided to play games with you. Reading the letter his brother sent you, how dare he!

"How dare you read the letters your brother sent me? How did you get into my room? Did those cowards who call themselves knights let you in?" You growled, tears starting to dry on your face.

"I did not need to break into your room, my heart, to know what those letters say. I wrote them"

"Enough! You torment me mercilessly! Your brother, my fiance is dead and you mock me!" you exclaimed, rising onto your feet.

" I do not mock you for it is the truth. Just as every word I wrote to you is the truth. But may we discuss this for another day? We have much more important things to discuss" he scoffed, waltzing over to his dresser to remove his jacket and riding gloves.

"What is there to discuss? I do not have the time nor the effort for the likes of you" you snarled, tears softly rolling down, rewetting dried routes.

"You have no time for your King and future husband?"

Shock passed through you and left you speechless.

"Why so surprised? I was my brother's heir, and now his throne needs a king and I need a Queen. Therefore you." He said as he began to remove his hunting boots and socks.

"My father's alliance was between your brother and him, you were never mentioned in the writing" you counted.

"ah but do I look like a man who cares for politics?" he rebutted. "I am King and we will be married"

you watched in horror as he began to remove his shirt

"What are you doing?" you gasped, quickly closing your eyes as his chest was freed from his garments.

"Getting ready to bed my future Queen"

Your eyes flashed open and your stomach turned. Sickness began to make its home inside of you.

"But what of a wedding? You cannot bed me before our wedding!"

A harsh chuckle was ripped from him before his smile faded and his eyes turned cold.

"Enough of this useless chatter, strip and get on the bed" he growled

You stood still but your mind was running wild.

"You must wait for a wedding! You can't take my honour before then, it is unjust and unholy!"

"How can it be unholy when it is in service of your King and Kingdom?" he questioned slowly advancing towards you.

"The sooner we bed the sooner we may be blessed with a child"

"A child?" you stammered.

"Come now, surely you were aware that this was your purpose? Did your mother never tell you what occurs in a marital bed? Fear, not my heart, if you require a lesson in the act of fucking I will be your most dedicated teacher" he mocked.

"Get away from me!" You cried, pushing him away as he neared you. Once more a hand was smacked across your face and new tears flowed.

"I believe I have been more than patient with you Princess, but continue disobeying your King and I will punish you harshly" He scolded.

You stood sobbing, cheek in hand.

"No more tears my heart, there is no reason to fear. I promise to be gentle" he comforted as he wiped tears from your eyes with the pad of a thumb.

"I want to go home!" You heaved, your eyes sore from all the crying.

"What home? You no longer have a home. Your place is by my side" he coldly replied, his previous kindness forgotten as he grabbed the sleeves of your dress and ripped them. Leaving your corset and chemise open to his eyes (I don't how old-timey clothes work nor what era I've even based this in).

"Turn around"

You slowly obeyed, wails and hiccups the only sound in the room

"Stop the tears" he grunted as he began to tear at your corset laces and the chemise below. Soon the dress lay in tatters on the ground and your sobs were silent and heart-wrenching.

"A pity the dress is destroyed, but do not fret my pet, I will get you a hundred more gowns if you so desire" he comforted.

Now naked and freezing in the cold room you stood with your arms covering your chest. You stood and shivered.

"Turn"

You followed his instructions, but you wish you hadn't. His eyes feast on your skin and his hands forced your arms down.

"You are the goddess of my heart" he whispered, looking deep into your eyes.

"Now be a good pet and lay on the bed"

You slowly stumbled towards the bed, and once on it, you lay looking up at the ceiling painted with a hundred stars and dozens of planets. You wished more than anything you fly off into the night sky. You could hear him grunt as he unlaced his breeches and joined you on the bed. You slammed your eyes shut as he leaned over you. His arms caging you in. His hand gripped your chin harshly and he ordered you to open your eyes. He forced a kiss upon your lips and he moaned in pleasure. With one hand on your chin, his other gripped your waist harshly as his body weight leaned heavily on you. You could feel his cock twitch against your leg and you grunted in disgust. Mistaking this for pleasure, he continued the assault on your lips and increased the force behind them. His actions became more desperate as the seconds drifted by. He returned his hands beside you as his mouth travelled down your neck to your chest. You yelped in pain as he left small bite marks along your collarbone.

His hand grabbed the meat of your hip and forced your leg to the side. He slotted himself in between your legs and began to rut against you. His lips returned to your mouth and battered against your lips. A pleasurable heat began to make its way to your belly, as his pelvis hit a small part of you that sent thrills racing through you. Wetness made its home between your legs and you let out a confused groan. His hands began their assault again, grabbing and pinching and gripping. one found its home on your hip, gripping tight enough to leave a bruise as he raised himself up.

"It will only hurt for a moment" he panted before his other hand disappeared between you two for a moment before he surged forward.

Hot pain erupted between your legs and you whimpered in pain. If he noticed he made no show of it. He panted and moaned on top of you. His hands were tight on your hips. He moved you to meet him with each thrust. He did not care for your pleasure. You could feel his cock rushing to enter you and rushing back out of your walls. You could feel both pleasure and pain arising in you. Tears began to slip from your eyes. He reached down and wiped them away before giving soft kisses to the corner of your eyes. His thrusts got harsher and his moans deeper. Suddenly he faulted on top and you could feel a warmth spread within you. He slowly removed himself from you and dropped down next to you. You could feel his seed slowly drip from you. You felt him trying to nudge something under you. Lifting your hips, you turned to see him place a pillow under your hips before flopping back down on his back.

"By our Lord's grace, my seed will take" he panted beside you, his hand resting on your womb, as his seed began to leak out of you.

You wished more than anything that it wouldn't.

*I am really really bad at smut*

[malew1fed]

found some old girlclothes today and wore an actual bra for the first time in like 6 years today, and man, the power that crossdressing makes me feel?

unprecedented.

want to dom the shit out of a cute thing, my broad shoulders accentuated by bra straps and my tits creating cleavage, accented by my chest hair and the flexing of my biceps. blue jeans and workboots, boxer briefs creating a dissonance between my top and bottom halves. reeking of power and self esteem, sex appeal. want to be covered in stains at the end of it, jeans stained from fluids from fucking, bodies covered in sweat. their hole leaking my cum.

the masculine, the feminine, the threat of my hands and my strap and my gaze.