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auspicioustidings · 7 months

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The Gentle Duchess

Blue Blood Part 4

Summary: Continuation of the Blood Druid. Johnny finally teaches you about the things you want to know.

Word Count: 3.3k

CWs: Smut, just shameless smut (which I am still a beginner at so my sibling in Christ temper your expectations)

“Aye, I can teach ye. Good students dinnae yell at their teachers like that though, dae they? I ken ye’ll have been raised with all sorts of those nice gentle manners, so ask again nicely hen” Johnny said, looking down at you sat on the bed with no end of heated mischief in his eyes.

You had been raised with those nice, gentle manners. You had a reputation as such, the Gentle Duchess who was rarely ever seen at social events but always mild tempered when she did appear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Powerful father so a decent prospect for marriage, no brothers. You had been ok with that, it wasn’t a bad thing to be known for being gentle. But right in this moment you understood the call to bloodlust that men at war held. You wanted to strangle this strange creature.

“Good teachers do not tease their students sir” you replied, curt and proper.

Something of an animal came across him when you had called him sir. You had meant it to be mocking, anyone of good breeding would know it was an insult being said in such a tone. But it affected him in some way that was frighteningly exciting.

“Ye want tae know whit it’d really be like if I wis teasing ye my lady?” he replied, voice seeming deeper now, the last two words coated in syrup.

He had leaned forward, putting his hands to either side of you and caging you in. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a confusion in your blood, fighting to rush to either your cheeks or between your legs. Johnny watched in delight as you naturally leaned back, not even realising you were doing so until you were braced on your forearms, him continuing to follow to stay right in your space.

It was delicious watching you rebel for what was probably the first time in your life. He had met many women from the nobilities of these silly little Kingdoms, none quite as sheltered as you. And yet there was such a fight in you wrestling to get out. He knew it had always been there, knew that this was destiny for you to fall into their laps. He would bring out that fight, let you sharpen your nails on his skin and whet your teeth on his blood.

“Perhaps you should reevaluate your surety that you could truly tease me” you said, trying your best to emulate the way you heard the vipers of different social events speak. Polite in the most cutting of ways.

“Such a sharp tongue on ye” he grinned, putting a firm hand to the centre of your chest and giving one strong push.

With a soft oof you found your back on the bed, arms no longer holding you up. He readjusted, bringing one knee to rest on the small space at the edge of the bed between your legs and bracing one hand beside your head. The other he brought to your lips, two fingers bullying their way past to massage at your tongue.

“Cannae believe such a pretty wee mouth would gie me such an attitude” he cooed.

Your head may have been getting a little hazey, the sink into that floating space you had discovered this past couple of days feeling imminent, but you steeled yourself. You bit down, feeling a little satisfaction when he hissed and pulled his fingers away, shaking them out. Johnny was indulging you a little, he knew your bite had been controlled, gentle. You didn’t have it in you just yet to try to hurt him. He wondered if you ever would, but he thought it might be a good thing that your nature was more to be docile and gentle. He was more than sure he could push you to be mean, but for Simon a gentle love would be perfect.

“If you are not going to teach me, then I would prefer you go and play with someone else.”

“You bit me, feral wee thing.”

You tried to stop from going bright red, not able to stop it. Feral wee thing. You had never dreamed anyone would even have a passing thought to think of you in such a way. It made you feel a rush of heady satisfaction. Is this how a pampered cat must feel when it finds cause to sink its claws into something? The reminder that under all those frills and laces and poise there was still a predator?

There was a desperate want in you. Oh how you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to bite him again to see him hiss, you wanted him to bite you so you could feel the sting. You wanted him to touch you. Oh Gods you wanted to touch him. You wanted to stop fighting and beg to touch him, show him how gentle and compliant you could be and have him coo sweet praises at you for it. You wanted to fight and fight and fight until he forced compliance out of you.

Johnny could see you at odds with yourself. He was pushing you he knew, probably too far too fast. How irresistible a temptation it was when it flushed you so, had you erratically grinding down on his knee without even realising it. Had your hands fisting the sheets, white knuckled in an attempt to keep from losing control and touching him. Touching yourself. Fuck, the little whine that had left you unbidden at his words had him painfully hard.

But there was another feeling aching away in his chest. His brothers in arms were 3 men he loved fiercely, he would call down the Gods to burn the world for them. Simon Riley especially. The man who had understood what it was like to be looked down on. When Johnny had first let Gaz talk him into joining the Duke’s little team, he had only done it because he thought the Prince was a bonnie thing he wouldn’t mind corrupting and because he wanted to see more of the world. It was Simon who noticed the way people would treat him. Like some untamed savage.

He enjoyed it for the most part, but it got lonely after a while to have everyone be scared of you. And then the big eejit in a mask had started dragging him to spar with the other soldiers, had goaded him into bantering little arguments at dinner where the servants in earshot could hardly hide their laughter, had told fantastical stories to wide eyed children about how Johnny’s homeland had cù-sìths and kelpies and unicorns and all sorts of magic bubbling away that had them constantly bothering Johnny to tell them all about it. He admitted he enjoyed telling them all about his home, treating them with ghost stories and tales of grand adventure.

It was only when he realised all at once that the people around here smiled at him in greeting that he had been fully aware of Simon’s cleverness and quiet care. The man was a monster on the battlefield, but so few saw that he was also fiercely loyal and he protected those he considered his. Looking at you, knowing that soon he would be giving you to the man who so fully deserved you, had his heart singing.

You would so perfectly compliment him, be the gentle place his heart could rest. Johnny felt such a rush of love for you then, the same warm light he got when communing with his Gods. He sent up a quick prayer, a thank you for sending you.

“Your aroused wee yin, that’s what this is.”

“What?”

“Ye wanted teaching naw?” he said, steady and encouraging as the bitten hand was placed on your waist, giving a warm squeeze. “This feeling, it’s arousal. This divine wee body wants touching, needs something inside.”

You heard your little noise this time, a startled note. You had tried to put your finger inside, it had felt foreign and uncomfortable. The Prince and the Duke hadn’t… well there was the Duke’s clever tongue. It made you see stars. Did it need to be a tongue?

“I tried that” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes out of shame.

You jolted when he pressed his lips against your jaw, kisses peppering over you and down to the neckline of your dress. The hand at your waist dragged leisurely down, rucking your dress up to your thigh before pausing there. He pulled his lips away.

“Look at me please.”

He had asked so achingly sweetly that you had little choice in the matter, meeting his eyes. He was different somehow, no less intense but the intensity was different. Softer in a way that was terrifying for a reason you couldn’t name.

“Fuck. Tha thu bòidheach” he said, almost breathless.

“I don’t…”

“Let me touch ye. Let me show ye how to feel good.”

Gone was the teasing, he seemed so sincere now. And he wasn’t pushing you either, the hand on your dress paused. With the others there hadn’t been anytime to really think about it. You had been overwhelmed with sensation. But now he gave you time, gave you a quiet moment to decide if this was something you wanted of him. And still, still you wanted.

“...please” you whispered, not even sure if the word was audible.

“Ok mo leannan, I’ve got ye. Going tae undress you.”

And undress you he did, achingly softly, until you were bare on the bed. He moved you with gentle touches to be fully laid out so he could straddle you and press his forehead to yours with an affectionate headbutt that made you scowl and butt him right back, causing him to chuckle lightly and nuzzle on you.

“Still my feral wee thing.”

He started trailing kisses from your jaw again, this time not meeting any fabric to stop him from continuing down to the swell of your breasts. His hand was firm on your stomach keeping you pressed down into the plush bed as he swirled his tongue around one of your nipples. Your body tried to arch without your permission and you nearly choked on your own saliva at the sharp gasp of pleasure escaping your lips.

“I… I can feel it between my legs. Ah! I-it’s like there is a path between them” you rambled, trying to fight against the urge to just lose yourself in the sensation so you could understand.

The wet pop of his mouth leaving you was obscene.

“Aye, to here” he said, hand coming to cup you. “Lots of names people call this.”

“His highness he- oh Gods I don’t- c-cunt! That’s what he called it.”

“Fuuuck. Never sounded so pretty a word before now. Whit did his royal pain in the arse call this then?” he asked, finger delving in to press at your clit.

“He called it my clit. Please!”

“Come on wee yin, use your words.”

“I - I don’t know!”

It was driving you wild, his fingers just sitting there pressing. Not moving. You were trying to wriggle as best you could with his other hand still holding you down, trying to get anything. You thought you might cry.

“Aye ye dae. Dinnae be a brat, tell me whit it is ye want.”

You lashed out, small hand grabbing at his hair and sharply pulling as you bared your teeth at him. You hated being called a brat and he had done it twice now. You were a Duchess, demure and proper. If anyone was being a brat it was him. He brought this out in you, this beast. If he was so determined to act like it was somehow you being the problem here then he could do something about it. Oh, wasn’t that a thought that got your blood hot.

“Move your fingers. Use your tongue. Do something!”

His pupils were blown out and he was panting like a dog at the little attack, baring his teeth right back with a feral grin.

“I’ll allow it my lady, jist this once. After ye get married, ye try that again and I’ll bend ye over and fuck your arse silly while the Prince eats out your cunt. Ye’ll be begging for us tae let your husband come take whit’s his by the time we’re through with ye.”

You didn’t fully understand, but it made you want to fight even more nonetheless. He still wasn’t moving his damn fingers. Deliberate of course on Johnny’s part. He had really thought he could be slow and loving with you, but he adored you spitting mad like this. You were so haughty, refusing to beg him pretty. He knew that Simon and Price would probably spoil you completely, it would be him and Gaz who would work you up like this, get you fighting.

“You insufferable man! I will not beg anything of you” you snapped, yanking him down so you could kiss him.

It was a battle more than anything, all tongues and teeth. The sounds were lewd and you did not care, only relishing in a small victory when he had to move his hands from between you to balance himself and you could wrap your legs around him, rolling your hips to get that friction he should have just given you in the first place. He moaned loudly into your mouth and you felt a hard length pressing into you beneath the heavy fabric of his kilt. It startled you enough to loosen your grip on him, allowing him to pull his mouth from yours, both of you panting and staring at one another.

“Did Gaz teach you the name for it?”

“He… I think he touched it, but he wouldn’t let me see.”

“Selfish Prince hm?”

Your legs tightened around him when he went to move off of you, not understanding. He gave your neck a small nip with his teeth which made you yelp and he used the distraction to pull away and stand. You turned to your side to look up at him in what you had wanted to be anger, but was more akin to looking like a kicked puppy. When he started to unwind the fabric covering him, you watched with fascination.

You could not look away from the heavy weight between his legs, hard. He wrapped his hand around it and you saw that it was leaking, his thumb catching on that liquid to slick himself up.

“Cock gets hard like this the same way that pretty cunt gets all wet,” he said, fist continuing to pump slowly.

“May I…?”

You weren’t sure how to ask exactly, but your curiosity had cooled some of your fight. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching himself, see what it felt like. You swallowed thickly, salivating with the image of putting your tongue on him. Would it feel for him the way the Duke had made you feel? He held his hand out to yours and when you took it guided you to hold him.

It was velvety, hotter than you thought. Sticky. His low moan made your bones rattle. You could die to hear him do it again. You shifted forward to taste it and the noise you were rewarded with made you believe in his old Northern Gods.

“Fuck, pretty little tongue feels perfect. You’re perfect” he groaned.

For some reason those two words made you squirm far more than any filth that he could have come out with. He carded a hand through your hair and moved your head back from him, groaning.

“Turn around mo leannan.”

You didn’t follow the instruction immediately, confused and stubborn. But you didn’t resist when he just took your body and turned it as if you weighed nothing to him. You were laid on your side facing away from him and his body joined you, chest against your back. His arm landed heavy on your hip, hand coming around to finally touch you like you had wanted.

“Touch yourself the way I’m doing, I’m going tae move my fingers to put them inside. Need ye tae relax.”

You wanted, you wanted, you wanted. If he was going to give you what you wanted then you could do what he said without complaint, fingers bumping against his sweetly as you took over. He readjusted your legs, pushing his cock between your thighs making you moan at the heat of it. When he was able to rut slowly he finally dropped his fingers to your opening, pushing one inside.

It felt different to when you had done it. It felt so hot and tight and wet and you could feel your walls trying to milk his finger.

“So tight. So hot and tight and perfect. Fuck taking it so pretty aren’t ye mo leannan? This was made for a cock, that’s whit I meant by saying I wisnae going tae take your maidenhood. The first cock in ye should be yer husbands in this Kingdom. Fuuuck, bunch of bastards. If ye were from the Northern Isles wouldnae be a problem for me to be inside ye before ye married.”

Everything felt blindingly intense, but it felt like you were on a thin line between that and a fuzzy softness. Like if you just gave in to it, you could leave your thoughts to the wayside and just feel. You resisted, too busy buzzing with the singular thought that one finger was already making you feel desperately stretched and full. A cock inside you?

“I’d die if you put it inside me, s’too big. Feel so full already” you whined, grabbing one of the pillows to press your face into.

He was picking up the pace, the sound of his hard cock sliding between your thighs combined with the sound of his finger pumping in and out of you wet and only interrupted by both of your desperate noises.

“I know, so tight. We’ll help ye, me and the Prince and the Duke. Get ye ready and excited,” he said, his words spoken right into the flesh of your shoulder where he had buried his head.

He added another finger and you swore, not something very lady like but fuck you wanted, you wanted, you wanted. Your own fingers bumped against his again, dipping down to get more of that slick to make everything feel better. He kissed at your shoulder and you thought you could die from such a sweet little gesture.

“So good, taking it so good. Feels better already hm? Ye know that ye were made to take our cocks, can feel ye clenching thinking about it. Would ye like that? After Simon gets ye nice and full with a child let the rest of us have ye. Never going tae want for anything wee yin, we’ll take such good care of ye.”

He reminded you of Gaz, the words seemingly being spoken for himself more than you. The idea that he would find it pleased him thinking of you being taken care of was going to give you heart problems.

It was only after you came with a scream that he really showed you how much this was affecting him. He fucked your thighs with a fury, leaving your breathless. You had taken your fingers away, choking a sob when he pulled his out and then just crying out incoherently when instead of removing them entirely he went back to your clit, the overstimulation dragging pleasure out of pain.

“J-Johnny I can’t!”

“Ye fucking can! Cum for me again my lady” he growled.

Turned out you could and the way you howled had him cumming as well. You felt ropes of sticky fluid make a mess of your thighs and you were too boneless and dazed to question it. That was a lesson for another time, on the balance of things you reckoned school was out for the day.

#cod #cod au #fanfic #mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #so the West coast of Scotland is fully flooded today I will therefore just have to sit inside all day and read fanfiction oh no #going to call that divine intervention

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echo-goes-mmm · 7 months

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Divine Intervention AU #4

Masterpost

Warnings: attempted murder, murder, religious whump

She shook her head. “We’ll make it quick for you.” The wealthy man next to her barked orders, and the knight firmly turned Plaything towards the altar. The knight marched him forward, up the platform, bending him over the altar. He could hear the woman begin to chant behind them.

Oh. He could deal with sex, even if it was a strange religious ritual. Harldy a problem; she said they would be quick.

But then the knight wrenched him up by the hair, shoved him to his knees, and put a dagger to his neck.

No. nonononono.

He was going to die. Sacrificed to a god he didn’t even know the name of.

“Don’t! Please, please don’t,” he sobbed, tears running down his face.

The knight’s grip tightened and the woman stuttered, but continued chanting.

“Please!”

He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for the blade to slit his throat.

There was a flash of golden light, and the dagger clattered to the floor.

Plaything opened his eyes.

Sitting on the altar, their crossed legs mere inches from his face, was a god.

He peered up at the god’s face. His hair was blond, his eyes green, and he was beautiful.

Plaything looked away. The air became thick for a moment, his throat and ears itched, but the sensation was gone as quick as it appeared.

“What are you doing?” said the god, his tone even.

“I bring a sacrifice in the name of the king, your highness. He wishes to gain your favor.”

“My favor…And you thought this would please me?” the god smoothly moved to stand next to Plaything. His hand came to rest on Plaything’s head, guiding him to lean against the god’s thigh. His fingers carded through Plaything’s hair, and he wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort or intimidate.

“I- I mean, your priestess said you preferred rare and valuable offerings. There are no slaves here, and this one has exotic coloring. He will obey your every wish.” the god’s hand stuttered half a second, and resumed petting Plaything.

“My every wish, hmm?” the god’s voice was unreadable. “And you encouraged this, Hannah?”

“No my lord. I suggested sapphires, or perhaps emeralds. I specifically warned against a living offering.” Plaything couldn’t help it. Hysteria bubbled up in his chest, and he laughed through his sobs.

“What is it, pet?”

Plaything sniffed, turning away from the altar and towards the god and his audience.

“They pierced my ears,” he explained, his voice watery, “with emeralds.”

The god cupped his face, turning him to see. His thumb stroked his cheek.

“So they did.”

The god turned back away, his hand returning to scritch at Plaything’s scalp.

“We did not mean to offend you, your highness,” said the lord, desperate.

“And yet you have.”

“Your highness-”

“You know nothing about me,” snarled the god.

“You bought a slave, in my name, and nearly murdered him on my altar.”

The lord and the knight stepped back, trembling.

Hannah did not move, her expression bored.

The god stalked forward, grabbing the lord by the throat. A strangled gasp escaped his mouth, and he thrashed in the god’s grip. The god lifted him effortlessly in the air.

“You disgust me.” The god plunged his arm into the lord’s chest. The knight screamed.

The god pulled out the lord’s heart, blood streaming to the floor, and crushed it like paper. It spurted blood over his clothes.

He dropped the corpse.

“Tell your king I will deal with him later.”

The knight turned and fled.

The blood must have reached his boots, because he left a bloody trail of footprints as he ran.

Plaything watched the viscera drip down the god’s fingers.

“I’m going to have to clean that up, you know.” said Hannah.

“Sorry,” said the god, who did not sound very sorry at all.

“I tried to tell them,” said Hannah, “but the king insisted.”

“What did he want?” The god twisted his wrist, summoning a cloth. He began to wipe off his arm.

“He wanted your blessing to lie to some politician or something. Making sure they would fall for it, yadda yadda. The usual.”

The god scoffed. “Drop the body on the front step, please. I’m sure the royal guards will come for it sooner or later.” Hannah moved to drag the corpse outside.

The god turned to Plaything.

“What’s your name, pet?”

“Plaything, Master.” The god raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not calling you that. Pick something out, then. It doesn’t matter what.”

He racked his brain, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Pet?”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?" The god sighed.

"You can be my pet if you want to. But pick out a person name. Alright?”

He thought it over. He’d had masters who owned pets, like dogs and cats. Slaves weren’t pets, but they weren’t people either. Maybe to a god, their worshipers were people, people were slaves, and slaves were pets.

He’d be offended too, if someone tried to kill a kitten on his altar.

“Yes, Master.” He thought of the cute tabby cat one of his masters had. What was his name, again?

“Could I be Elliot, Master? If it pleases you.”

“Very nice. I'm Ambrose. Let’s get you home, hm? I have work to do, and you need proper clothing. Not whatever's going on here,” he said, gesturing to Elliot’s outfit.

“Yes, Master.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

#Elliot's naming is a lot smoother in the au than in main. i wish i fleshed that out a little more in main tbh #ambrose and elliot #divine intervention au #my writing #whump #slavery whump #religious whump #pet caretaking

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