#food wars: the final plate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talesof-old · 3 months

Text

handle it | a.s., h.l.r., g.c.

pairing(s): poly!batboys x fem!eader

warning(s): 18+, smut, couples arguing, teasing, piv sex, handjobs (f receiving), oral (m receiving), reader has a vagina and is referred to by her/she, reader is called pretty girl, men being annoying and protective/possessive, if you squint there’s wing play, i did not proofread or edit because for some reason this put me in a slump, i think that’s all

word count: 1.7k

a/n: sorry this took me so long i was strugglinggg so it does end kind of abruptly

masterlist

poly!batboys + smut, angst + happy ending

“For the last time, you will not tell me I can’t go.”

Azriel barked a hoarse, humorless laugh, his eyes cold as he looked down at you. Gone were the days of training at Windhaven, children playing war as the world fell apart. No, now Rhys was High Lord, and you were a long way from the mountains you once called home.

“I’m in charge of this mission. What I say goes. And you are not going.”

Throwing your arms up in exasperation, you catch a glimpse of Cassian’s amused expression and Rhysand’s impassive face. They knew better than to get between the two of you. Azriel’s barely contained rage that settled just beneath his skin could burn hot at any given moment, and you were a formidable opponent that even your battle seasoned superiors knew better than to rile.

“You’re staying here.”

You whirled around, face nearly coming into contact with Azriel’s hard chest. Your wings flared.

“Rhys has the final say. I’m going.”

Violet eyes flickered between the two of you, one side of his lips quirking up in a smirk as Rhys shrugged. Anger flared in your chest. There was no reason for him not to side with you. You’d proven yourself over and over again, earned your place just as much as they had. It wasn’t fair.

“Rhys, I swear on the Mother-“ Rhys shook his head, silencing Azriel as he moved. Cassian followed after him, both quick to leave you two alone.

“Figure this out between you. We’re not getting involved.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind them; the silence that followed was deafening. His shadows darted out and away from him, only to return to curl around his body like they couldn’t decide whether to comfort you or their master. It would’ve been comical, really, if Azriel’s sharp eyes weren’t burning holes into your forehead. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Azriel didn’t say a word as you walked out the room.

Dinner was not a pleasant affair. Mor picked up on the tension between the shadowsinger and you with a simple glance, and it seemed to only agitate you further. Territorial fae bastards, the lot of them.

“We still set for that shopping trip on Saturday?” Mor’s honey voice filled your ears and you allowed yourself to smile. At the end of the table, Azriel sat stiff as a board, barely touching the food on his plate.

“Of course, I still need something for Dawn’s ball.”

She nodded, sipping her wine as she contemplated. You raised a brow. There was something mischievous in her eyes as she spoke next.

“I hear Caius was asking after you.” Shadows exploded across the room, darting out to weave through your hair and urge you towards their source. You narrowed your eyes at Mor who simply threw her head back and laughed. Amren scoffed over her glass.

“Az.” At Rhys’ firm tone, the shadows were reeled back in, and light filled the room once more.

“We’re leaving. I’ll keep you both updated.” A warm hand clasped yours and then all of a sudden you were in Rhys’ bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed. You turned to the partner in question.

What the fuck?

Rhys chuckled in your mind.

I thought you two would’ve sorted this out.

You rolled your eyes at that, turning to flop onto the bed, wings draped over your body. Rhys rested a hand on your lower back, shivers crawling up your spine as he massaged your tailbone.

He’s a possessive prick.

Rhys laughed out loud this time, trailing his hand over your backside. You preened under his touch, twisting to stretch out like a cat and smiling over at him softly. A grunt sounded from behind you. Rhys glanced over, sending an image to you.

Cassian and Azriel (the former having already removed half of his clothes), lip locked and tugging hard at each other’s bodies. Heat pooled in between your thighs and you turned to raise a brow at your companion. He smirked. In a blink, he was hovering over your body, chest pressed against your left side. You tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips against his. He moved slowly, pressing you down as he swiped a tongue over your lips. Rhys’ palm moved to cup your arse, rubbing your clothed cunt against the bulge in his pants. You sighed as you melted into his touch.

A broken moan drew you away from your High Lord.

You turned your head, pupils blown wide with lust as Cassian manhandled Azriel, tugging at his short hair and biting the exposed skin of his neck. Rhys laid back, hauling you up to rest on top of him. He helped you straddle him.

Someone hit the wall behind you, choking on a groan. You grinned as Rhys pulled you into him, licking a stripe up your throat.

“You’re both fully capable of resolving your issues, hm? Isn’t that what you said the last time?” You let out a long suffering sigh and gripped Rhysand’s hair.

“Don’t be a dick.”

He trailed light fingers up your sides, the sensation dulled by the fabrics covering your skin. Teasing touches turned rough as you rolled your hips. You smiled sweetly.

Behind you, the bed dipped as your two lovers joined you.

Cassian’s rough hands gripped your hips, careful of the wings you now arched high. Azriel settled against the pillows next to Rhysand, watching you with half-lidded, dark eyes. You maintained eye contact with the shadowsinger, grabbing Cassian’s hand and slipping it into your loose fitted pants. He cupped your mound, urging you to grind against his palm. You did so, head falling back as the roughness of his skin dragged against your lips and clit. He let you use him, your chest heaving as you rode yourself to climax. Your legs shook, upheld only by Rhys’ hands.

Rhysand took to leaning forward and nipping at the skin of your sensitive neck. He grinned as you keened, cunt clenching onto nothing as you tumbled over the edge. You fell against Cassian as your blood rushed through your ears. He chuckled, ignoring the way you jolted when your wings made contact with his frame.

Your body trembled following your orgasm, blissfully warm but not entirely relaxed. Azriel grunted as Rhys cupped his bulge. Your eyes flashed to his, annoyance still eating at your gut.

“Come on, pretty girl. Don’t be like that.” Cassian mouthed at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, sucking hard. You moaned softly, writhing against him as he massaged your breasts.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Rhysand’s low voice sounded from beside Azriel. He huffed, abdomen muscles tense as the High Lord slipped a hand into his trousers. He pumped his cock, running a gentle hand over his slit and laughing when he hissed.

“You managed to piss her off pretty bad. Wonder what you’ll have to do to make it up.” Heat rushed to Azriel’s face. You watched with rapt attention, eyelashes fluttering as Cassian stripped you of your top to expose your breasts. You shivered at the sudden chill.

“Will she let you touch her?”

Azriel clenched his hands into fists, all but tucking them underneath his thighs. You giggled. Looks like he wanted to be tested tonight.

“Rhys.” You purred.

He whipped his head towards you at the sound of your voice, his name dripping with lust. You wriggled your ass against Cassian’s dick and tugged on Rhysand’s shirt.

He was on you in an instant, mouth hot against yours as Cassian pulled down your trousers and underwear. He was quick to line himself up your cunt and slowly sink in, leaning forward to press kisses to your upper back as you moaned. Rhys swallowed the sounds all too willingly.

As Cassian bottomed out, Rhys tugged down his own pants, situating himself right by your mouth. You lowered yourself onto your elbows, a soft whine leaving you as the angle changed how deep Cassian was within you. Rhysand grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your mouth to his cock. He grunted when your lips wrapped around the reddening skin.

Cassian pulled half-way out of you, giving an experimental thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut. He was slow with it, setting a lazy pace to keep you from climaxing too soon. You shivered as one of his hands grazed the inner part of your wings. Molten heat burned between your hips.

With a practiced tongue and a few well timed sucks, Rhys was pulsing in your mouth, balls drawn tight. His head was thrown back, moans tumbling from his lips in a way that would’ve had you grinning. Cassian kept his sensual pace.

You hollowed out your cheeks, gagging as Rhysand’s cock hit the back of your throat. He choked on a moan, halfway through cooing at the tears on your cheeks when his orgasm tore through him. He shook; beside him, Azriel trembled with need.

You swallowed his cum greedily, humming. Rhys jerked. You pulled off of him with a pop, grinning like a madman.

“Wicked thing.”

You shrugged, arching your back to meet Cassian’s thrusts. One of his large hands splayed across the bottom of your curved spine, the other coming around your waist to toy with your clit. You spasmed against him.

A low chuckle sounded through the room.

“Be careful tonight, we’ve all got a mission tomorrow.” Even in the midst of your pleasure, your head jerked towards Azriel. He wore an expression half resigned, half lustful. You reached for him with one hand, balancing on your right, fingers trembling. A moment ticked by. He moved, graceful as a panther, and tugged you to him. Cassian groaned as you involuntarily clenched around him. He pulled out of you, letting you splay across the shadowsinger’s front.

“You’re really giving in?”

Azriel’s sigh was answer enough, but he responded with a simple, “Yes.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his chin. The ache between your thighs was desperate for attention, however, so you moved to straddle his hips.

Much to the displeasure of your two other lovers, the words “You’re mine for the rest of the night,” were what left your mouth. Azriel leaned back.

“Show me you can handle it.”

+++

938 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

Text

The horror and the wild (Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 Word count: 4906 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

This fic on AO3

— I do not wish to speak about politics before breakfast!

— Your Highness, I’m afraid, politics would not be waiting patiently until you’re finished with your sweet pastries.

— What do you mean?

— The Emperor’s army is on our doorstep.

The look on the face of the Princess – your Princess – was priceless. First, it was a surprise, her adorable features all twisted in a very unladylike gasp. Then, it was terror – the first time you saw her ever express that emotion since the palace was always clear of anything that could scare her royal highness, from mice and snakes, and up to severely ugly people(poor, poor Elvin – he’d a good life if it weren’t for his pointy slabby jaw). Then, and it was the final emotion on her illustrious face – it was anger. To nobody’s surprise, the anger was mostly coming at you.

You see – you’re a Princess's most loyal handmaiden. Raised under her crib, going to the same classes, doing everything in favor of your royal highness, from warming up her jewelry and to trying the food first to see if it’s poisoned – your whole life’s goal is to make sure that the Princess is as comfortable as possible. You’re her shadow, her servant, the closest to a friend she can have – and if you were the bearer of the bad news, it’s only natural that she would be angry at you in the first instance, and not at the imperial army clashing down at your tiny bordering kingdom.

— Where are the guards?!

— Judging by the screams I am not sure if there are any left in the outer levels of the castle. And if the King didn’t come with a usual note after breakfast, it’s safe to assume that he is more busy.

With a trained movement, you quickly duck under the table when the Princess, naturally, throws a plate in your direction. You knew she wasn’t meaning it – your poor, innocent darling Princess, she was just as scared as you were but had not learned of how to hide her emotions under sarcasm and false calmness. Your job is to keep her safe – and calm – even if there is no royal family to serve anymore. You don’t want to think of the possible outcomes – King took you in, a simple peasant girl with no talents whatsoever, and gave you an illustrious education, the most sought job in the whole kingdom, and an allowance that would allow you to study in the real collegium, were they to accept women. You don’t want this place to fall in Northern Empire clutches – and you especially don’t want the Princess to learn the harmful ways of two pretty young women trapped in a castle full of enemy soldiers.

— How could this happen?!

— I’d have an answer for this question, Your Highness, but you ordered to urn any mail from the Northen Empire. Perhaps, they send us quite a bit of war declarations before finally going down.

Your hand goes to the side of your skirt, clutching on the suicide dagger – if something happens, you’d have to kill the Princess first, take the sin of killing oneself from her innocent soul – and then go down after her, hoping that your dog-like loyalty would allow you to serve her in heaven.

The Princess has many things that she’d like to take with her to the afterlife. You better start preparing her package soon – this castle wasn’t built to be protected from the army of beasts, hiding under human skin – your kingdom never provoked any wars, always trying to search for the opportunity of negotiations – and now this comes to bite you right in your soft rear, without a sufficient amount of guards or a suitable army to protect itself.

You’d pray for the god, but your god wants you to die.

— Princess, we need to…

Before you could say anything else, an explosion erupts somewhere in the southern tower – the closest place to enter the Princess chambers. You can hear screaming, you can hear laughing – a foreign language, the one you are proficient with, but it never made it less barbaric, less harsh. These people talk like swords clangs against each other – like a harsh metal against your skull. You’d give up anything to not understand what they are talking about.

There is something to be done before the soldiers arrive, finding only a few guards and two pretty, terrified young things. You might not be afraid of death, but you sure are terrified of what will come before their blades would slit your throat. You do not wish to die with blood between your legs. You do not wish that fate for the Princess either.

“The Princess should be here.”

“Did Lord say anything about trophies?”

“Don’t take anything now. Tiger said we were never here – he would pay us later”

“What about…”

“Don’t kill the Princess either. Emperor want her to himself, remember?”

“Come on, are we here for a whore?”

“A royal whore, dumbass. Now shut up before Emperor hears you.”

They laugh and you can hear the Princess whimpering, crying softly – all of the layers of harshness are washed away with every tear rolling down her perfect cheek. You move to them as fast as you can – these stupid clothes allow you at least some freedom of movement, saved from the excessive decorations and expensive, heavy fabrics – you are only as few levels higher than cleaning rags. you could probably rip away the lower levels of your skirt and run – the Princess wouldn’t even be able to move without your hand steadying herself.

You need strength to not slap her right now – you know that the pain on her perfect puffy cheek would help get her to listen, but nothing in your body moves to ever hurt her, no matter the cause. You push yourself to the door, thinking – your castle isn’t the highest one in the whole world, if anything, the Princess would be able to escape either via the window or the secret tunnels – but they would search for her, they would never accept defeat like that. Even if you’d stall them for long enough, pulling every bit of luck you don’t have – they wouldn’t stop if they had the goal of catching the Princess.

— Your radiance, we have to go!

— Where? The castle is going to crumble any second now, and Mama and Papa are…

You press your ear against the tough wood, listening to the soldier’s speaking – language is even harsher now when the adrenaline runs through your veins instead of blood. You would give up anything to be strong – to have your dancing and embroidering lessons switched to sword fighting, to archery, to read dark arcana books instead of romance novels that you and Her Preciousness liked so much. Your hands are soft and delicate, only a bit harsh from occasional cleaning and serving – you’re a shame to any servant in the castle, a house pet made to entertain and please, not to fight and work.

The Princess is a cherished treasure for your kingdom. Protected and hidden away, the King was smart enough to know that a royal gem like her would make all the old rulers of kingdoms surrounding yours go into a frenzy – so Her Radiancy wasn’t ever allowed to any royal mingling and balls until she’d reach the age of at least 21. Her birthday was next month – a small mercy, knowing that there was a possibility of never getting of that age.

“Is that a Princess?”

You hear a woman – probably one of the higher members of the court, considering her high-pitched accented whimpers with a familiar voice. God bless her soul and dedicate her a quick death – you don’t want to think what would come of her if not for this prayer.

“Princess should be in her quarters. This one definitely doesn’t speak like a royal meat”

“How do we even know which one is the Princess?”

“She should speak like one. Would be easier if her family ordered a fucking portrait.”

But…you were with the Princess your whole life. You know how to act like her, you know how she talks, how all royals talk. You know how manners, you know how to sing, how to dance, you received the education that allowed her to copy your study work and give it to her personal teachers – her own reflection wouldn’t copy her better than you would.

You’re young, like a Princess, you’re pretty, almost like a Princess – and you’re loyal like a dog, itching to pay your debt to the royal family.

— Your Highness! You need to run, please, just take the secret route through the walls and…

It was the most horrible moment for her to put her foot down.

— I…I live to serve the royal family. Dying for you will be the greatest of honors.

— I will not just leave you here!

— They’d defile and kill us both, Your Highness. But if I just pretend to be you, they won’t come looking for you, won’t they? They would have what they wanted and you will be free.

— What about you?

You’d feel hurt for how quickly she ran to the secret tunnel – if such feelings were normal for a servant to have. You’d feel betrayed if it wasn’t the life or death situation – if you weren’t putting on her dress as swiftly as possible before the soldiers would come running for you. It’s funny, how you always wanted to try her dress – how you were jealous of everything she had, even if you were the closest to her – you pride yourself in not caring about such silly mortal possessions, and yet, you always wanted to try something as beautiful as her dress.

You stare at yourself in the mirror – terrified, small, ready to die at any point or to be hauled back to the Northern Empire like a piece of meat. Dress suits you, the bright pink would tell about innocence and radiance – but not it smells of blood and betrayal. If the soldiers thought that the Princess killed herself in her room, they would surely not think about trying to find her.

You push the tiny dagger against your wrist, praying to all of your knowledge of medicine that your death will be quick and as painless as possible. You left out a silent prayer – knowing that the god would only welcome you after your death.

Not a war, Horangi corrects himself – a massacre.

***

Tiger of the North was fucking tired.

This whole mission – declaring war that no one seen and no one wanted, marching through the street without an army behind him, felt more like a bandit’s doing than something that a general of the best army in the world would do. This whole operation is a stunt, an order from the Emperor that no one expected – seriously, sometimes he still felt like a child with new, exciting toys. For all he knew, König never saw a Princess – yet, he sent his best men to take her out, not caring that this would mean a war on the bordering kingdom.

Not his fault this shithole didn’t even bother to reply to any of the Emperor’s letters regarding the marital status of the Princess. Not his fault they don’t even have a proper army – the king died, gutted like a fucking pig, and the queen followed soon after. Their unit can count less than 20 people, with royal hounds and other animals to help – yet, no one was able to foresee them entering the castle and butchering it. It’s a hunt, not a war or even an assassination – a hunt for the Princess, the useless fucking thing.

If they’d only bothered to get at least some portraits – something to tell what she looks like. Perhaps, she is ugly, a mix of a toad that fucked a pile of shit. Perhaps, she is crazy and eats pillows and keeps her handmaidens' heads like a trophy. Perhaps, she don’t fucking exist and the king just didn’t want to say out loud that his dick was never working enough to produce an heir.

— Search the quarters! I don’t want them to have time to know that their precious king is dead.

The low rumble of König beside his almost makes him dart from surprise. He wears a mask, of course, not even trusting his people to see how he looks like – perhaps, he is as ugly as a toad that…ah, shit, he is using the same comparison again.

A faceless ruler and a faceless Princess – a match made in heaven.

— You think other kingdoms would send their condolences?

— I’m sure that Price is already aching to write a congratulatory letter for the expansion of the empire. A nice addition to the title, ja?

The emperor laughs, a sword in his hand, dark from the king’s blood. Horangi still doesn’t understand why he would decide to go on such a dangerous operation – if anything, they could haul the Princess back to the capital, or at least the nearest Empire territories – but no, König decided to go here himself, searching for a Princess that would, surely, not be worthy his attention. If this man didn’t want to marry all the options other kingdoms offered him, he surely wouldn’t be satisfied with a girl from this shithole of a country. Their land is barely enough for a normal castle, let alone all of the riches that the Empire provided.

Yet, König stumbles in every room, searching for something – for someone. Other soldiers don’t dare to take trophies in front of their emperor, knowing that this operation should be as secretive as possible – no other rulers would bat an eye for a mysterious royal passing and the quick marriage of the Princess of this kingdom, but Graves would be quite concerned and bitching about the Northern Empire coming close to his kingdom. God, if König could just bathe every last one of them in blood, he would have.

— Sir, I believe the Princess should be here Unless she killed herself already.

— Those people honor death more than they do life. Better be fast before I’d have to marry a corpse.

— We could bring her back.

— Nothing can wash off the dead smell even after resurrection. You think why Krueger can only have sex with common whores?

They both have to suppress their laugh at the thought of the royal advisor. Poor, dead Krueger, serving a contract that even death would not be able to break – it’s a good thing to have it on their side. Provides a good amount of jokes just from being around him.

König rushes to the door that looks the most guarded – judging only by the amount of dead servants around it. The Princess must be here and, knowing the traditions of your kingdom, he has about a minute before you’d kill yourself, yelling something ridiculous about finding solace in death and that they would never take you alive. The door comes crashing down ridiculously easy – or it’s his strength challenging in the form of barbaric savagery. When he pushed into the room, he didn’t see what he was expecting to see.

He sees something better.

You look divine in the moonlight, your form, draped in an expensive dress that you only managed to take on halfway through, getting stuck in that stupid corset and billions of tiny bows and cutting jewels. You look majestic, godlike, you look like something from a fairytale. He was anxious before this, thinking if it was worth it – overthinking every bit of the operations, evaluating if the enemy kingdoms would be fine with him just taking you. König wasn’t sleeping a good few nights before this – now he looks at you and wants to kneel in front of your perfect form.

— No wonder they didn’t have portraits. They wouldn’t capture your beauty.

He shook the knife – little thing, as dainty as you are – from your trembling hands. Poor thing terrified of him – he’d pick you up and haul you on your shoulder already, but he wants to take a moment and just admire the comparison between his huge, muscular arms and your fragile form. He knows he is big, imposing, threatening – but compared to you, he feels like a war god paying tribute to his newest sacrifice.

You shake in his grasp, not fighting it – Princess wouldn’t fight, you remind yourself. If killing yourself is not possible, if your dignity is tarnished, the death and torture shall be met with silence – you put your lips together, as firmly as you can. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sobbing when his hand goes to cup your face – a faint trace of your makeup staining his dark gloves.

— This is the declaration of war. You were…

— This is no war, meine Liebe. How could we fight the nation with a dead king?

The Princess would cry, learning about the death of her parents. You try to force more tears, making yourself look as miserable as possible – it isn’t hard in this brute’s hands, with his soldiers surrounding you – but, for some reason, he doesn’t look surprised when you are not crying immediately at the mention of the death of your supposed parents.

He laughs, cupping your face in a rough, crude gesture. He shouldn’t treat Princess like this – even you are not used to men being this vile, to speak of such lewd matters with his men. They surround you, laughing, not even bothering to pay the least bit of respect in front of their Emperor.

He wears a hood and it makes him look like an executioner, not a ruler. But, perhaps, you would welcome a butcherer more than you would a husband.

— Let me go! The guards shall rise to my abduction and they will not leave thou to…

You don’t even need to force yourself to speak like her – you’re royal by any means, other than blood and service. You can imitate her your whole life if needed, shadowing her your whole short existence – it only hurts you more when you are praying that the Princess, dressed up in your garments, would be able to escape. You know that someone will save her, and take care of her – it’s just like the plot of your favorite romance book. An abandoned Princess of the burned kingdom rises to be the wife of a mysterious, masked blood knight, saving him from pushing his soul into the darkness. You, in this story, would be just a minor victim for the author to kill.

— The guards would rise if they weren’t dead, Princess. Too late to call for them now.

He sneers at this “Princess” like a snake, ready to sink her teeth into your soft, limp body. You whimper, finally trying to get your knife from his hand – as gracefully as you can, remembering that you are to stall the time for her to escape, not to actually save yourself. He laughs and lets you go suddenly – only to pick you up like you weigh nothing. Pick you up like a bride, not a pig for him to gut.

The tip of your ears is burning – your whole face is burning, you feel ashamed, embarrassed, angry, every emotion swirls in your head as he doesn’t even try to be subtle about his affection. You thank god for the layers of skirt you are wearing – but the upper part of the dress is barely holding together, showing a scandalous amount of shoulder. You are tainted – a scandal in the court, if there was a court alive.

— Put me down this instant. My kingdom will not just accept these levels of disrespect!

You say this weakly than you wanted to. He laughs – thunder and bear roar, ocean waves against the mountains – you whimper when his hand goes to rip the upper part of your dress entirely, leaving you barely covered, with only three layers of clothing and a corset between you and his horrible, dangerous hands. A lady should not be seen by men when she is in less than five layers of clothing – still, you feel much better when the heavy fabric lets go of your skin. Still, you feel mortified, knowing, what would happen when he started to take off your clothes.

Well…you think you know what will happen. You and Her Highness read books with a scandalous amount of intimacy – touches, hugs, kisses even, the last book having record five instants of the main heroes being in close proximity with each other – you also know that whenever a male enemy soldier captures a woman, he is doing…something before killing them. Not quite sure what, but obviously torturous.

— The only kingdom that is left for you, your Highness, is what lies between your legs. I’ll be sure to pay my regards later.

Before you could say something – anything for that matter, he already hauls you away, still stuck in his hands like a trophy. You thank god that he doesn’t see the difference between you and the Princess. You never knew your acting talents would be of this amount, but nonetheless, you feel complete, knowing that the Princess is safe and sound.

— What is the purpose of your actions?

You are weak, voice whimpering and quiet. You don’t want to touch him, but the hungry gazes of his soldiers make you weak and fragile – you cling to him, trying to cover your modesty. The corset is a part of the wardrobe that no fine lady should ever show to men – yet, this is the only thing now that is keeping your tits together, saving at least some of your dignity. The heavy skirt of the torn dress lingers on your legs, covering you as much as barely holding up fabric can. König’s chest rumbles with a laugh when he notices you clinging onto him like a helpless kitten.

— I’m taking my bride as your parents were not kind enough to answer any of the proposals.

— Why didn’t you just visit?

If it were for him, he would just sprawl you on the ground and take what he wants. He would, were he a simple soldier, not the North Emperor – he would if there weren’t any witnesses if there were no intentions of marrying you later. But alas, he needs your hands in marriage – he needs you whole in marriage, from head to toe, from your heart to your soul, from your pussy to that sweet mouth of yours – and he can’t have all that unless he is patient.

— I did. Right now, for that matter.

— As the only heir to the throne, this would mean the death of my country. You can’t just…

— Who is there to stop me, little one? Your parents? Dead. Your army? They would kneel for my men were we at actual war.

You close your mouth. He laughs again, this terrifying hood of his moving when he shakes his head. You sob, tears flowing freely down your cheeks – it’s a wonder you can still talk while crying like this, but you need to keep up the act and you need to stall the time as much as possible. His hand goes to wipe away your tears and, for a second, you almost want to bite him. But, Princesses don’t bite – they lay in the hands of their captors and wait for princes to save them.

— The other kingdoms would protect us, we had war pacts!

— Were you loved enough to start a war with the Empire to protect you from getting married?

— I shall…

— You’re too young to speak like a queen, Liebe. Leave that to me, ja?

You open your mouth.

You close your mouth.

You open your mouth again.

— Please, let me go.

This is a quiet, soft sob – König stops for a second, looking at your fragile, vulnerable expression. You’re as weak as a kitten, as adorable as a bunny – and precious, his little treasure, tucked away nicely in the deepest corners of this kingdom. He almost feels bad for breaking you, for taking you away. He killed many men, the king included, and he captured more land than his father ever could dream of – the biggest empire lies at his hands and yet, he feels weak when you cry in his hands.

It still suits you more – a pained expression, pure terror, all the emotions that a young woman like you should experience when she is captured by someone like him – he believes in terror through submission and the tears streaming down your face makes his cock twitch in his pants.

— I have all the right for you, little one. It’s your father’s fault that you were not protected more.

He laughs, his large, imposing hand goes to cup your ass – you don’t even understand how his touch manages to get through this many layers of clothing. Your skirt is in complete disarray when he touches your legs, squishing and destroying the crinoline parts and whale bones. So much went into creating this skirt, a horrifying construct that never allowed the Princess to move freely, stuck in one place like a glorified little dolly – now it becomes your grave, mortifying and freezing you in one place.

— You can’t…no, please, don’t…

He grabs your hips with the ferocity of a warrior, not an emperor. Rulers shouldn’t kidnap Princesses from neighboring countries, and they shouldn’t lead their troops on an operation that would destroy any diplomatic relationships with them – but he stands here, no more than a normal soldier, and you were never this terrified in your life before. He is a monster, a beast, an anomaly that shouldn’t exist in this world – even your desire to protect the Princess isn’t stopping you from crying and shaking. You bite your lips and sob softly, quietly, hoping he won’t just throw you to his men.

— This is what politics leads to, no? Your father decided to stop being diplomatic…and I did too.

He isn’t my father, you want to scream. He did nothing but take you from the streets, and slums you were scrambling aimlessly like nothing more but a tiny critter under his boots – he gave you everything, any book you wanted, the best company in the whole kingdom. He isn’t your father, still, but you pay for his mistakes – mistakes that you had no idea of. Princess ordered you to ignore any mail that would come from “This Northern brute” and you didn’t know that it could come to this.

If only you were to steal those letters and read them instead of throwing them away…but what would it come to? Princess wouldn’t marry someone like König, she had no like for the emperor twice her age, for the human who defiled the very laws of nature, sitting in his high castle, ordering the undead soldiers around. Monster with, probably, three heads and two faces, with four hands hiding under his magnificent armor. A beast who is…

A best who is cradling you in his arms like you were his lover, not his victim.

— Put me down. Please.

— I’m getting tired of listening to little Princesses wailing. Tell me, Liebling, do you wish to continue this journey quietly or unconsciously?

His hand goes to your neck – no doubt, he would be able to squish the life out of you if he so wished. No doubt, you are fucked – utterly and completely, with his ability to do whatever he wants your inability to stop him in any way. Sobbing softly, not wanting for him to continue this humiliation, you simply nod – to whatever option he deems appropriate. Princess would be screaming, yelling for help, and she would stomp her adorable feet on the ground until she’d get what she wanted – but you are no Princess, and playing pretend already makes you miserable enough.

— I do not wish to see the destruction of my kingdom.

— It’s not destroyed, little Princess. Merely defiled, captured and burned down.

— You didn’t…

— Of course not, kleine Hase. I wouldn’t dare to burn the newest addition to my empire…unless you would make me to.

It’s not a threat – it’s a promise, poorly concealed by the obvious smile in his voice. You cling to his chest and hear the rumble of his laugh when he pushes his cape over your shivering form. It’s a small form of comfort, but an unwelcome one – you’d rather be shivering, naked, and exposed in front of his troops than find comfort in the way he treats you. His cloak is heavy, more suited for the harsh weather of the central parts of the Empire – not your kingdom, mostly warm and wet, with bountiful rains and plentiful soil. You understand why he would want this land – you don’t understand why he would want you.

— Don’t hurt my people.

— Be nice then. You can be nice to your husband, ja?

If you weren’t a Princess, you’d claw his fucking eyes out – get your dainty hands under his hood and scrap the pulsating flesh, turn his face into a mush of blood and gore. If you were real Princess, you would declare war on the Empire and die the protector of your kingdom – not a terrified girl.

But you’re neither a Princess nor a commoner.

You push your lips together, allowing König to take you away. Accepting your fate not with dignity, but with quiet, fearful acceptance.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #könig call of duty

2K notes · View notes

gogobootz1 · 5 months

Text

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time.

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him.

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year.

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end.

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate.

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating.

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault.

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back.

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?”

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you.

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow.

“Eat shit!” You call out after him.

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work.

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great.

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings.

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today.

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio.

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously.

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage.

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?”

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling.

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.”

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?”

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket.

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report.

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch.

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.”

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them.

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table.

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance.

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly.

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.”

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come.

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short.

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash.

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old.

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him.

“And when was that?”

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been.

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is.

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher.

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?”

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures.

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock.

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod.

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed.

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?”

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.”

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door.

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head.

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.”

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head.

“Agreed.”

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit.

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head.

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas.

“You actually embraced the sleepover?”

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits.

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.”

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods.

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment.

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.”

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to.

-----------------------------------------

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

#luke castellan x reader #pjo fanfic #luke x reader #pjo series #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

790 notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 11 months

Text

Husband [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a lifetime of longing, it's finally time to seal the deal. Follow on to Heirs - but can be read as a one-shot (w/c 1.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Asgardian HC. Fluff & Smut.

The silk chiffon of Loki’s robe tingled against his skin, sash loosely bound. There would be no guards in the corridor that stretched to his chambers. Not tonight.

Pacing barefoot across the marble floor, he noted the squeeze of a damp hand intertwined with his. Steam from the palace baths dissipated from the air with every stride. There were no words needed, just the pad of your footsteps following close behind his own.

With a nudge of his head, Loki sent a wave of seidr rolling up your bodies. You giggled quietly, the delicate sound echoing. The god threw a glance over his shoulder, seeing your newly dried hair bounce as your steps quickened. “Hurry,” you chided, stifling another giggle. Loki turned on his heels, feet squeaking on the polished floor to a stop. You collided with his chest. “You do not command me, wife,” he warned, squinting theatrically before breaking into a smile. Loki’s heart leapt at your gasping laugh as he swept you off your feet, the drape of your matching robes scratching together. Your legs hung over one elbow, his hand securely fastened around your midsection. Loki would never forget the way your pupils dilated as you stared into his eyes, the whole world growing out of focus around what was in his grasp. Around you. “I love you-” he breathed, cutting himself off by leaning to catch your lips. The heavy wooden doors to his chambers opened of their own accord, recognising their master's presence. He let his tongue explore deeper with every powerful stride towards the matrimonial bed, slow and purposeful and all-consuming. Loki stopped, breaking the kiss to take in what lay before you both as the door swung shut. Dozens of tall candles adorned the arched windows, throwing an orange glow towards the navy dusk of Asgard sprawled below, just out of sight. White fur pelts draped across his bed, neat emerald sheets replaced with luxurious folds of cream and beige. Loki’s mouth twitched in mild disapproval. “Look,” you said, excitedly patting his shoulder and nodding towards a table by the fireplace. Lit by soft flickering flame, he saw the traditional finger-food of Asgardian gentry laid out on delicate piles. Each plate more tempting than the last. “Yes, very nice,” Loki hummed feebly, giving the scene a cursory glance before his attention was drawn unavoidably back to the pulse of your neck. Furious desire was thudding in him like the drums of war. It was becoming unbearable. His cock, violently hard and swollen and aching against his stomach. It had a heartbeat. Loki tightened his grip on your body in his arms, inhaling against the angle of your jaw. He sucked at the scent of your clean skin like oxygen, drowning. “Husband?” you moaned softly. She’s impatient. Loki felt every hair on his arms erect in unison.

One of your hands moulded to his cheekbone as you pressed your forehead to his, nuzzling his mouth until he relented. Your lips working against his own, Loki made the final steps to the bed before reluctantly lowering you to the pile of furs. He retreated, drinking in every inch of flimsy white chiffon that did nothing to hide the curves beneath. How she taunts me, he thought with a smile; pulling lightly at the sash around his waist, this wife of mine. The two of you were no virgins. But tonight, it felt like it was so. Wisps of half-forgotten memories twisted deep in the god’s mind; uprooted from their slumber. And another, and another. Like they belonged to someone else.

Lovers of every rank and station, known to him in dark hallways and golden bedchambers. The half-remembrances evaporated like smoke. But none like this, he thought with a comforting smile as his chiffon robe pooled around his ankles. He could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks, radiating from the coyness of your smile. None like her. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, raising his chin. He felt your appraising gaze dart up his displayed body, a series of rapid breaths beginning to pepper the air making his heart swell. Your gentle pants fluttered against his obliques, denying yourself the taste of his skin until the hallowed words had been spoken. They caught behind his teeth. The prince felt his abdomen clench, every muscle in his body resisting the urge to fall upon you. A wild tide on rocks.

“Will you accept me as your husband to your bed this night?” he uttered, laden with ceremony. You straightened in front of him, slow hands tugging at the fastening of your robe.

“Yes, my lord,” you answered seductively, looking him dead in the eye. “I will.”

The sheer fabric began to slip from your shoulders. The exchange was a formality. A tradition. But as Loki’s fingers wrapped around his straining cock, feeling fat droplets of pre-cum roll against knuckles; he conceded it was one Asgardian tradition he was glad to keep.

With an arm outstretched, you dropped the delicate robe onto the stone floor by his feet. Loki could feel the growl building in his throat. Low, primal. A shudder rolled over his biceps as you leant back on your elbows, drawing the soles of your feet onto the bed. He let his eyes run over the lines of your body, the flex of your thighs, the plump sweetness of your curves. She will be the death of me, he thought as he inhaled a staggered breath. No, he pondered after a beat, lowering to place his palms on either side of your shoulders. She is the beginning.

His fingers trembled as he placed one hand over your heart, eyes never leaving yours. “Do you trust me?” he murmured, barely audible. You frowned, glancing to where his fingers lay. “Always,” you whispered. The skin beneath his touch glowed green as Loki’s eyes fluttered shut. He opened them tentatively, softening. “The bond of my protection,” he explained bashfully, “now, if ever you need me, I will be with you.”

His heart dropped as your face scrunched, cupping his jaw. “You were always with me,” you said softly, straining upwards to place a gentle kiss on his parted lips. And in that moment, Loki knew. He worked his mouth across the curve of your cheekbone, wordless sounds of adoration soaking every step. “Lie back,” he whispered hot in your ear. His stomach flipped, realising as you reclined against the furs that he hadn’t been this nervous since the very first time. Or perhaps, even then. The god watched your eyes widen with excitement as he nudged your legs further apart with his knees. With aching intensity, he mapped each spark in your eyes as he dragged his cock along your soaking slit from root to tip. It nudged, gently.

“Loki," you gasped quietly, arching your back in frustration. He smiled, trying to remain serious. “What, my love?” he heard himself tease, inhaling against your neck with a shameless moan. Like pollen on a breeze, he felt your words soak through his skin. Through his soul. I need you. And, Loki thought, she means it.

He wondered if anyone else ever truly had.

The god raised his head, cursing the dark curls which fell forward from his braids against your face, obscuring the view. Your fingers combed past his shoulders, pushing the veil back. “There you are,” you whispered with a smile. He felt himself nod once, stare boring into your own. You nodded back, squeezing your knees against his trunk in encouragement.

Gasps filled the space between you as he eased the heavy tip of his manhood inside your channel. Inside the very essence of you that he had longed for. Every inch was a simmering feast of pleasure, the denial of centuries building to a single, strangled gasp of your name. Loki felt his brows slant, the sight of you beneath him almost more than he could bear. Careless lust rose in waves, firing through his bloodstream as he filled you to the hilt. Careful, he chided himself. Slowly. Every inch of your pussy was perfection, as he knew it would be. Every vein and ridge of his cock dragged tight against your flawless heat. A man could lose himself for eternity inside this pleasure if he wasn’t careful, each pull of your tight slippery cunt against his foreskin making him ascend. And not just a man, he thought through the drunken haze, a god. He choked with a rasping groan, letting his head fall into the curve of your neck. Loki began to pant as words of devotion licked the air like flames, your fingers trailing over the weaving curves of his ceremonial braids. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered wet in his ear, “not tonight.” Loki pulled his head back, a strand of saliva dangling from his lip as his brow furrowed. There was a new light in your eyes, something dark and hungry. Something familiar. Something him.

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. “Wife,” he gasped through breathy pants and shallow thrusts, “are you asking me to-” “-fill me,” you groaned, an impish smile tugging your dimples, "heirs, remember?" Loki’s eyes rolled back as you bucked your hips up, thudding your pelvic bones together. The snug warmth of your pussy was unbearable.

The prince remembered the way you had come undone beneath his mouth earlier this evening in the palace baths. The way that your fresh cum had flooded his outstretched tongue. He felt his thighs tense. His balls, tight. “My love, I-” he gasped, feeling you tug a clutch of his hair. Loki hissed, his jaw set. “I’m trying to be romantic,” he spat, yanking his head away like a child. He stared down with fiery determination, the flash in his eyes punctuated with a punishing thrust of his hips. You moaned approvingly below him, a teasing grin stretching across your face. Loki’s heart melted. My wife, he thought lovingly; before slamming his cock deeper with a squelch. He felt the scratch of your fingernails over thick shoulder muscle, the tightening of your thighs making him judder. “We have our whole lives for romance, Loki,” you cooed, the syllables staggered between each slap of his hips, “tonight I...uhhh- just want you to f-fuck me, f-finally.”

The god released the growl that had been marinating in his throat, stretching a hand above your head. He gripped a clutch of furs tight in a fist. “I fucking love you,” he rasped, beginning to roll his hips in targeted, deep thrusts. “I- oh g-god, fucking lo-love you, my p-prince” you whined, catching his mouth in a messy kiss.

Loki pulled away from you, shaking his head with a broken sigh. He could feel the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced building in his belly, your soft moans sending his soul to new planes. It was perfection, the two of you. Nothing would ever compare. Nothing ever should. “Not your prince-” he grunted, knuckles whitening against the furs as he spun out the feeling as long as it could last. Edging himself. “-husband,” -was the last word Loki heard before climax deafened him.

Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf @itsybitchylittlewitchy

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fluff and smut #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x you smut #loki marvel #loki gif #loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odison x reader #lokismut #loki oneshot

2K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Note

Knight König who, after bravelly defending the castle alone and saving all the beautiful young maidens, is now *gasp* alone with them!! You and the rest of the young ladies are not even married yet and this whole horror of a siege came :(( you had to be locked inside the maiden tower with the other ladies, praying to the gods that someone strong would defend you, and here he was!! The giant knight from the north from whom you were always herded away 'because a brute like him has no business with fine young ladies like yourselves' :((

Imagine König who is for the time being the only male in the small castle, the foe has been defeated but any kind of help will take days to arrive :( During the fighting his mind was on slaying all the enemies to defend the flock of the frightened ladies but now...??

He's the only male among a dozen of maidens!! And these poor does are so scared in their tower on comfy beds of furs with all the supplies...so many warm, soft bodies to keep him warm and 'aid him to help his wounds', so many broad hips and breasts to grab and squeeze for comfort...oh and they are so ready to share all the supplies with him!!

I mean...who's to say that a war hero doesn't deserve something good too? :D

GFDFSSSS first I was like "gangbang medieval style yeehaw let's gooo" but then I had another quick idea (in all honesty writing gangbangs make me blush furiously lmao I'm weak!)

CW: Fear of SA, mention of blood, boners galore, dubcon groping, period typical attitudes, gender roles etc.

Knight!König asking you to wash him (because he was seated next to you at this one feast and now he's obsessed...)

König, who never had time for women because he was always on duty, whose best chances for a wife were an old widow or some soiled woman, whatever that meant... Probably some lowly lady, for a lowly knight like him. His family must hate him because they keep him from having even that: instead, he gets shipped off to this outpost of a castle that houses hundreds of soldiers and only a few women. Even they are kept under lock and key most of the time, and it's no wonder... A man like him shouldn't even be dreaming of dipping his dick in the pretty soft things of the Maiden’s tower.

König, who even to his own surprise, finds himself victorious after weeks of siege. Who's left completely unchecked and alone with a flock of scared fawns, poor does who are now gathering together for warmth and safety. They only have tiny daggers and iron scissors as their weapons against an armed knight, knowing they’re not always safe even from their own men – especially after a battle.

Even the strongest, most valiant knights get tired during a siege, turning into starved animals after a few weeks. A soldier fresh from war is the worst thing, having his cock up after bloodying his sword, they usually need to have a woman as soon as possible. A victorious knight, finding himself winning against all the odds, would surely prefer to fuck every single one of the soft cunts locked up in the women's tower...

So König, who batters the door and orders the frightened women to lift the baulk, only gets screams as an answer. They finally open it when he says he's tired after a fight and only wants to rest for a bit, puts on his most charming smile as the huge wooden door creaks open, and meets the ladies with a wide grin despite having blood all over him, stands proudly in his full height with his sword still drawn, a path of entrails and cut limbs behind him – why are they still screaming? He saved them! He should be given a royal welcome!

König, who finally gets the women to calm down a little when they notice he is not about to rape them on sight, who wipes his sword with one of their finest, freshly dyed wools (rude!). Who sheathes his weapon and smiles again, suggesting that they help him out of his plate and give him a wash – he’s earned that much, no?

König, who eats from their bowls as if he has never even seen food, who gawks at their tapestries with curiosity, who tries to stare down their necklines and catch a sight of those beautiful, round, plush tits. Most women quickly rush to heat the water to escape the possible groping about to ensue, while you are left with the task of getting him out of his armor.

The straps are small and endless, the armor consists of dozens of different parts, and he just keeps on grinning widely while you’re at it, giving you odd compliments and passages of courtly love with his mouth full of food. Some of his ramblings are straight out of a troubadour’s song, but you don’t believe a word he says, especially when his heated stare is fixed on your exposed neck, the collarbones so frail, the cascading wool that reveals your wrists as you try to pry your way under the heavy, bloodied pauldron.

Of course he remembers you, down to the minutest detail because he got to feed and take care of you at last winter's great feast... Someone had fucked up and seated you next to him in their error, and he heedily took advantage of the situation. He even managed to have a grope at you when the lords and ladies weren’t watching because they were so drunk.

He was drunk too, intoxicated by the strong ale and the shy stares you granted him. You didn’t do a thing when he pulled you closer and practically fed you some deer off your shared plate, tried if you'd fancy a date or a sip of wine while keeping you tightly tucked in his lap. He couldn’t get enough of you: your tiny gasp when you felt him grow hard, your whimper when he stole a soft squeeze of your tit… Your shy ghost of a smile as you demurely called him “Sir” and told him to stop before he gets you both into trouble.

Ever since that night, he has dreamed of you when pulling out his leaking cock. Sinned until he felt embarrassed to go to the chapel and yet again confess that he has defiled himself with his hand and thoughts of you. Ever since that night, he has wondered whether you are giving those whimpers to someone else nowadays…

But here you are, in the tower, taking off his plates and using all your strength to get him out of his chainmail. Why haven’t you been married off yet? Why aren't you making blankets and throws at some fancy lord's castle by now? You have the perfect hips for delivery, it's practically a sin to keep a woman like you locked up in a military fortress…

And polite curtsies and shy, downcast eyes won't save you now, you know that.

How can you say no to a knight, ordering you to give him a wash? “Do him the honor,” he says, while anyone can see he’s already hard.

There’s nothing the others can do but put up a curtain and leave you two to your featherlight privacy. He doesn’t even bother to undress behind it, simply flaunts that monstrous thing between his legs for everyone to see before giving you the honor of strolling to the steaming bath. A soft silence fills the tower as the knight, tall as a legend, hairy as a beast, climbs into the small wooden tub with a grunted sigh.

You, the maiden he picked, can only look in horror as he grows even harder under the hot water. The thick erection soon juts above the surface, the dark curls framing the base of his cock now floating lusciously underwater, the dark hair covering his full balls, too. Either he's just big everywhere or then he's been too busy during the weeks of the siege... The amount of times you've seen him abstain from meat in this castle is ridiculous, and you always wondered if he ate fish because he liked it or because he had defiled himself in his lust.

He's an animal, but having a woman is not a sin as foul as throwing his seed on the ground... And here he is, strong thighs spreading as far as they can go to give room to the astounding erection he’s having just from the prospect of your touch.

The knight leans back in the tub, looks at you with a drowsy, soft smile, and tells you not to be afraid. The thick, throaty voice leaves your knees completely weak.

“Ach so... Have you ever touched one of these before?”

#knight!könig #könig x you #könig x reader #historical au #yes Salome no wonder you don't get through your asks if you write a short drabble for 20% of them #historical au's are my ultimate weakness #deal with it ok ;_;

968 notes · View notes

assassinsblade · 4 months

Text

In the Blood

Eris has been subjected to Beron's physical punishments his entire life. But now a new form of punishment forces him to live through his nightmares, and the heir to the Autumn Court finds himself fearing more than just a punch to the jaw: you.

WC: 4k

Warnings: Oof, we've got a lot. Blood, violence, injuries, death, gore, angst, suicidal thoughts, and domestic abuse.

Eris stared at you from across the table, his amber eyes alight with fire. It was not a look that held contempt or hate but instead one of observation, as if you were an animal he was enjoying learning about. You tried to tamper down the nerves such a look ignited in your chest, instead averting your guys to your high lord.

Rhys spoke with a calming voice. "We wished to meet with the Autumn Court to discuss the threat of Koschei."

Rhysand was no fool. He knew of Beron's misdeeds—of the way the man schemed in his own court, swearing loyalty to those wreaking havoc on Prythian. And the high lord eyed the ruler of Autumn, ready to track each and every one of his lies.

"This is not a threat the Night Court takes lightly. We do not wish to have another war like Hybern, so we want to be proactive. Have you seen what could be coming to our lands, what destruction is threatened?"

Beron leaned back in his chair arrogantly. "I've seen some."

"Then you know that we should have allies to ensure Koschei does not infiltrate our courts. I assume you would like to keep the Autumn Court safe, no?"

Beron grunted. Eris tensed at the sound, as if he were holding himself back from reacting, from responding to Rhysand's question himself.

"The Autumn Court is strong enough to defend itself," Beron finally responded.

A slow smile grew on Rhys' face, and you couldn't help the thrill that went through you as you watched your friend in his element. Power drifted off of him in waves, daring Beron to deny him. Violet eyes gleamed with confidence. "I think we know by now that is not always true."

Sneering, Beron pounced forward, slamming his palms onto the table. You flinched at the sudden movement, and you caught Eris' body slanting toward you out of the corner of your eye. You willed your rapid heartbeat to slow, reminding yourself of the reassuring presence of both Cassian and Azriel behind you.

"The Autumn Court does not need help from bastards like the lot of you."

You sensed Eris swallow at his father's words. A hesitant clearing of his throat followed, but his voice was surprisingly confident when he spoke. "Father, perhaps we should consider their offer. The Autumn Court can only serve you as long as there is an Autumn Court and High Lord to serve."

"You will not speak out of turn, boy."

The booming voice had you tensing once again, and the Illyrians behind you stepped closer on instinct, hands resting on their weapons. Eris stayed unnaturally still in his own chair. The previous fire in his eyes smoldering as if he did not regret speaking up but knew it was a poor decision nonetheless. You tried to remain expressionless despite the tension in the room.

It was difficult when you couldn't stop wondering how Eris fared in his own court. When he had tried to help and been immediately scolded.

You thought of that moment hours later as you sat at the dinner table in the House of Wind. How Eris had tensed as if preparing for a blow of some sort. How his eyes burned out, looking toward the future. How he had not spoken again for the rest of the meeting, only lifting his eyes to your own in small moments of quiet.

As you picked up your fork and pushed your food around your plate, you fought the thoughts of the auburn haired male away, wondering why he seemed to keep seeping his way in.

Eris knew when his father had come in with a witch that his punishment would be worse than normal. He had already taken ten lashings for "siding with the enemy" during the meeting with the Night Court, and as he prepared to be released to go tend to his wounds in the privacy of his chambers, his father had escorted an Autumn Court witch into the room.

Beron had claimed he would learn faster with a mental punishment to pair. He had claimed Eris would bite his tongue the next time he thought about questioning his High Lord. That the next time a word went to leave his mouth, he would remember his time in this room, of the nightmares that plagued him.

Eris hadn't understood what his father had meant. Not until the witch was chanting and his head was throbbing in pain.

Then his vision was gone and he was standing on a beautiful rooftop, stars shining above his head, and the moon bright above the mountains. Velaris, he reminded himself. This was the home of the true Night Court. Your home.

And you were there. Your beautiful eyes twinkling from the night sky and from the joy of being among your friends and family. Your olive colored dress flowed whimsically with each of your movements, and his eyes floated between the fabric and the open skin revealing itself in the slits near your ribs and leg.

The dress was Autumn Court colors. He swallowed hard at the observation.

When he reached your eyes again, they were no longer twinkling with happiness. Instead, they were hardened, angry, and they were looking into his own. Your smile was gone, and you were quick to dismiss yourself from your friends to march over to where he was standing, placing your glass of champagne on a nearby table on the way.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

As disheartening as it was to hear your voice so terse when directed toward him, his heart still skipped a beat. He had never spoken to you directly before. Instead, finding it safer to keep his distance and interact with the other members of the inner circle. That way, he could still keep up the cold front.

"I'm . . . " He tried to think of an excuse as to what he was doing in the Night Court. During Starfall of all times. "Rhysand invited me as a way to show trust in our alliance."

Your brows furrowed with irritation. "I highly doubt that. He knows. He knows what you are to me and how I feel about it."

Eris' stomach dropped, his mouth suddenly going dry. Since when did you know?

Heels clicked on the ground as you took a step closer, looking up at him with your chin up. "We both know the Mother was cruel to pair me with you as a mate. Did you honestly think you could make us forget about everything you have done? Did you think you deserved a mate after everything you have done?"

His heart beat hard in his chest, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to breathe through the pain in his chest. Each of your words struck harder than the last, stabbing deep into his flesh and twisting at the space his soul was tied to yours.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and shaky, so unlike the heir to the Autumn Court. "I never thought—"

"—That you would have to face the consequences of your actions? That a female might not feel safe being mated to the male who left her naked friend for dead with a sign nailed to her womb?"

Eris tried to take a step back, tried to distance himself from each of your cruel but truthful words. He couldn't bare it, he had kept his distance all this time so that he wouldn't have to. But he deserved this, he knew. All of your hatred, disgust, anger. At both the Mother and at him.

When you followed his step backward, he braced himself on the railing pressing against his lower spine. You leaned in and your sweet scent of vanilla and the cold air of night hit him like a wall.

"I will never want to be with a male like you."

He nodded. He nodded despite the tears starting to flood his eyes, despite the feeling of his throat closing, despite the nausea threatening to upend his last meal.

But you ignored his acceptance, his willingness to accept your choice, and made sure he knew exactly what you were saying. "I reject this bond in every form. I will reject it in front of your court, in front of my own, and in front of the Mother herself. I will call her a sadist for bonding me to you, and then I will spit on the Cauldron for making such a mistake."

Then you were strutting away, your dress flowing all around as you disappeared down the stairs to the streets below.

It took every ounce of self control and rationality left in Eris' body to stop himself from tipping over the railing, from ridding himself of the agony festering in his chest and ridding you of the burden of him.

Instead, he turned his body to face the railing and gripped it tightly between his hands, hanging his head and trying to breathe.

He knew this day would come eventually, but nothing could have prepared him for the pain of living through it.

You hated him. Thought he was a monster. Rejected him.

And he deserved it, didn't he? Had he not done awful things in his past?

He swallowed harshly. He had only ever tried to do his best given the circumstances he was born into, but his best would never be good enough for you.

When his shaking minimized and he felt as if he was getting air in his lungs, he raised his head once again.

The sight might have given him whiplash.

What was previously a starry night with twinkling lights and flutes of champagne was now the Autumn Court throne room with towering statues and the evil High Lord himself waiting to be worshipped.

Eris barely had time to question how he got there before he was spotting the red pool of liquid to the right of the throne, a body laying in it.

A female body. One with faint bruises and bright auburn hair. One that had given him a smile when it had nothing left to give. One that sang him songs when he wanted to give up.

His mother.

Beron sat on his throne with a smug grin, and Eris felt rage burning in his veins.

He moved forward, palms tingling with the need to erupt, but Beron held up a hand nonchalantly, his face morphing into one of boredom.

"I didn't think my eldest son to be so impulsive."

Confusion rushed through him, but then he heard a strangled cry coming from the door to the right. A familiar cry. And the rage and sorrow that had been flowing through him from seeing his dear mother dead was then compounded with panic and fear.

How?

How had Beron found out? How had he gotten you away from Velaris?

Two Autumn Court guards dragged you into the throne room, kicking the backs of your knees until you were kneeling in front of them. Bruises lined your beautiful face, and your lip was split with a deep gash. Eris nearly growled at the sight.

"Ah, she does seem familiar, son. One of the Night Court whores, yes?"

Eris didn't respond. He didn't even move. Not with your life on the line.

"I caught your mother trying to help her escape. Despite what your mother insisted so foolishly, I cannot have my son having stronger ties with another court."

Beron grinned a slimy evil grin and then he was flipping his hand in a small wave, gesturing at someone unseen to Eris. That someone--another guard—brought forth a beautiful handcrafted sword. It gleamed under the lights of the throne room, and Eris' hands twitched with inaction as he studied the sharpened blade.

His father's footsteps echoed as he descended the throne and made his way over to you. His sweet mate, always brave, lifted her chin in defiance as the High Lord studied the sword in front of her.

"I apologize for the Mother leaving you with such a fate, my dear. But of course, you must understand."

Eris was frozen. Frozen as he watched the light leave your eyes as you realized this was it. Frozen as his father tilted his head, savoring your acceptance of defeat. Frozen as the sword was raised high, sparking with light. Frozen as you lifted your head to the ceiling as if sending your soul to the Mother herself. And frozen as the sword came swinging down in a heavy motion, cleaving through your neck with barely any resistance.

Eris was choking. He couldn't breathe. He might have been screaming.

He fell to his knees, barely catching himself before he fell fully over. And then he was heaving, emptying his stomach on the pristine marble floor beneath him, and trying to breathe through his sobs.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not you. Not his mate.

His eyes squeezed shut as he willed a different outcome. Willed the last twenty seconds to go back in time so he could have done something.

The thought of your blood spilling from your neck, of your beautiful beautiful face now rendered in permanent fear, of your body split in two had him nearly self-combusting.

This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real . . .

He didn’t know what he thought, why he lifted his head in some last hope that you had somehow been able to get away, to dodge that death blow. He had seen the sword slide through your skin as if it was nothing, but maybe it was a trick? Some ploy to torture the Autumn Court heir?

But the bond in his chest was dark. It was dark and hollow and empty, and when he lifted his eyes to where you were kneeling, he saw only your torso laying in a large pool of blood, nearly identical to the one surrounding the body of his mother.

He cried. He sobbed and he yelled and he heaved. He reached for your body, wanting to be closer to you, wanting to apologize for being your doom. His fingers reached out, desperate to feel the warmth of your body before it was drained.

But then Beron was stepping in his path. The High Lord towered over where Eris kneeled in pain, and the way the male was standing put your severed head directly in Eris’ sight. It hung from his father’s fingers like it were something as trivial as a lantern.

Eris was going to kill him. He was going to burn this entire court to the ground and was going to savor doing it.

As the blood dripped from your cut neck to land directly in front if his knees, though, Eris realized it would all be for nothing.

He had no one.

His mother was dead.

His mate was dead.

He stared at the dripping blood, waiting for his father to kill him too. Begging the Mother to bring the sword onto his own neck as well.

When the motion didn’t come, Eris found himself looking up once again, ready to face his father and death itself.

But the throne room was gone. His mother’s pale body, your decapitated body . . . both gone.

You now stood in front of his kneeling form, your back to him as you surveyed your naked body in the mirror. Your alive body, completely in tact and breathing.

“I thought you said you would be a kinder ruler than your father. That you wished to right his wrongs.”

Your voice was small, jarring to his ears after what he had just witnessed. He had to shake the image of you dead on the ground from his mind in order to respond. “I will be. I do.”

“Then why is your court still afraid of its ruler? Why am I still afraid of my ruler?”

He could barely process what was happening, what you were saying.

A breath and then you were turning to face him. Your body on full display. Eris nearly gasped. Burns—some in the shape of fingerprints, others in the shape of hands—marred your skin. The tender skin of your throat burned a bright red, matching that of your wrists, forearms, and inner thighs.

“Why are you so insistent to be just like him?”

He met your eyes, his head already shaking in denial. He would never—

“I would never hurt you.”

“Then why do you?”

Eris only continued to shake his head desperately. This couldn’t be real. He would never lay a hand on you, would never even think of marking your delicate skin or causing you a lick of pain.

A small thud resounded through the room as you fell to your knees in front of him, matching his position and taking his face into your delicate hands. Your eyes were soft, shining with sympathy. “Everything you touch burns, Eris. You are meant to destroy, not love.”

The harsh words contrasted so greatly with your gentle touch, with your tender voice and sad eyes. His jaw clenched as he tried to push back the tears already leaking from the corners of his eyes.

He knew your words were true. Despite the hope that often spread in his chest at the possibility of escaping his family, of doing better, he knew that he had done too much bad to ever think of himself worthy of anything other than pain and destruction.

He would reap what he sowed.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“I know,” you whispered. You leaned forward, lightly pressing your lips to his damp cheek. “But you have to let me go. If you really cared, you wouldn’t want me around you.”

He felt like he was dying, like he was losing a crucial part of himself. But keeping you, your mating bond, would mean doing wrong by you, subjecting you to a monstrous male, a monstrous ruler who can’t help but be the villain his blood tells him he is.

“Let me go back to the Night Court. Back to my friends and family.”

Family. Friends. The words struck Eris like a blow. Your soft voice uttering them only reminded him of how alone he truly was. No family. No friends. And you were leaving now too.

No one ever chose him; he ruined things too quickly for that.

He looked into your warm eyes, hand reaching out to gently stroke at your cheek. His fingertips barely grazed the skin before you were flinching back from his touch. He immediately withdrew his hand, his heart thumping in despair at the fear that flashed in your eyes.

You were beautiful. So beautiful. Sometimes he questioned if you were an angelic form sent by the Mother to tempt him, to see the lengths to which he’d go in his selfishness.

But he couldn’t be selfish when it came to you. Especially not when it came to your safety and happiness.

And he never wanted to see that look of fear in your eyes again. So he nodded. He steeled himself, met your gaze, and nodded.

"Go."

It hurt. It hurt so fucking badly. But Eris would do anything for you. He would give up his crown, his happiness, his life, if it meant you were safe and cared for. Here in the Autumn Court, with his handprints marking your skin, you would never be safe and cared for.

You stood slowly, backing away from him as if he were a wild animal that could unleash himself at any moment. You were quiet and careful in your movements, and when you finally reached the door and shut it with a click, he heard your hesitancy turn into something just as painful: panic. Footsteps skidded down the hall, rushing to leave this place. Rushing to leave him.

Eris did not remove himself from the floor.

He stayed in that kneeling position, remembering your rejection, your execution, and your battered body.

His worst nightmares come to life.

They would stick with him forever—these moments. When he saw you again, he would see what he did here. Your disgust, your blood, your fear. It left him speechless. Broken.

He stared vacantly at the wooden floor beneath his knees. At his hands resting there. His hands that have caused so much harm. That would love nothing more than to hold you and protect you but are meant to burn and destroy instead.

You were right. Being around him was a death sentence.

He only wished it was one for him as well.

As if the thought triggered something deep within him, he was thrown back into reality. His wet eyes flew open, tear-soaked eyelashes fluttering, and mouth gasping for air in the cold atmosphere of the cell.

His entire body was shaking, from the cold or trauma, he wasn't sure. And that pain in his chest where his mating bond should be—it only grew stronger.

He tried to suck in air, to breathe through that pain, but it was difficult. His back still burned from his earlier whipping, and his mind was whirling with everything he had seen and experienced. His beautiful, beautiful mate . . .

But that wasn't real. You were alive and safe. This was real now, and he was exactly where his father had left him earlier in the day. Which meant you had gone home to the Night Court after the meeting. You were safe.

"The spell shows you your worst nightmares." A voice cut through the stillness of the room, causing Eris' trembling body to turn toward it. "Some you might not even be aware you have."

Eris wondered if his father somehow knew of the nightmares that went through his mind. If this witch saw and would report them for his father to use against his son at a later time. The thought increased his anxiety and panic further, his shaking and breathing still uncontrollable. He couldn't know. If his father knew—

"I would recommend coming up with others for me to report to the High Lord. I would hate to see an innocent girl punished for your emotions."

Her voice was cold, unimpressed. But what she was offering him . . .

Eris immediately grasped the favor. "Tell him I saw my brothers assassinate me. Tell him I saw a world in which humans ruled. Tell him I experienced him beating me in this cell for months. That I both fear him and fear his vision not coming to fruition. Anything."

When the witch merely stared at him, unmoving, he pleaded. "Please."

She only tilted her head, observing him. He could only imagine how he looked: tear-filled eyes, a bloody and bare back, his entire body reacting with panic, his voice begging. A pure antithesis to how he normally presented himself in public.

But she just turned on her heel and made her way up the stone stairway, leaving him on the cold and dirty floor.

He screwed his eyes shut, praying to whatever god was out there that she would lie. That she would tell him things that would only result in himself getting hurt. That you would be safe and he would be completely unaware of his son having a mate.

But Eris knew he was never lucky. He did not win in games of life. He was never granted a family that loved him, people who cared and looked out for him. So, when the door at the top of the stairway clanged shut, he couldn't help the broken sob that left his throat.

He might have just brought his nightmares to life.

You had said it to him then, and the words echoed in his head now: Everything you touch burns.

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #acotar fic

568 notes · View notes

sytoran · 11 months

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.

word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously…

No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELD’s decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the ‘what-ifs’ of a bright future.

Now…

Natasha doesn’t know how many hours she’s been crying in the bathtub.

After the finality of SHIELD’s crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natasha’s burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.

Which is why she crashed at her sister’s place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.” Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.

“Take one,” Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natasha’s partially-submerged form. “Food helps with everything.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely child’s play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.

Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. “Talk to me,” she stated firmly, and it wasn’t a request. The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.

Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.

This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically.

Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.

“Damn, this human fucked you up this bad?” The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher.

"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.

Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss.

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelena’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natasha’s face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.

“But that doesn’t even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and I’m going to have to break it. I’m gonna break so many– Fuck, I’m gonna have to break every single promise I’ve ever made to her, like she’s some kind of toy.” Natasha chokes out. “And I don’t, I fucking don’t– understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. I’m fucking stupid, and now it’s blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-”

“You’ve never deserved it,” Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sisters’. Is that how you’re supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesn’t know. Anyways, she’s trying. “Nat, I know you’re the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.”

You deserve love… what a fucking lie that was.

“Don’t try that on me,” Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon she’s standing up.

“I’ve done some fucked up shit in the past, and I’m very aware of it. I thought I’d moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I can’t do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I don’t deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.”

Natasha’s chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.

Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like it’s consuming her, let it choke them and–

“Is that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I haven’t seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.”

Yelena’s words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that it’s true, but she can’t accept it or she’ll never be able to let you go.

So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes aren’t dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)

She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.

My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s standing right outside the door.

Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home.

Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.

She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence.

It was time for her mortal demise.

—

It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.

The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.

It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.

You’ll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.

Which is exactly why you’ve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.

As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall.

Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.

That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.

Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this.

Never like this.

“Darling?” you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natasha’s biting her lip like she’s stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like she’ll start crying if you say one word more.

“I-” Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she can’t burn any longer under your gaze.

Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.

Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.

“Natasha? What’s the matter? Talk to me, please!”

You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within arm’s reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is going–

And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.

“Fuck!” you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? You–

No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?

After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later you’re sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower.

—

Natasha’s thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.

It’s a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all.

The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesn’t feel the least bit better, but at least she’s calmed down in the slightest.

She’s bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesn’t change a thing. She can’t change a thing, not for anything, not for you.

“Natasha?” you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs.

At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she can’t. Because it’s the last– nope, she can’t say it.

“Nat, can you….. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if you’re hungry–”

The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. You’ve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.

“What—”

You’re cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasn’t preordained or predetermined. You didn’t have to calculate the next move. You didn’t have to fix a destiny.

Natasha’s lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.

It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.

Natasha kisses you with a hyena’s jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. You’re stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh — she needed more.

She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away – for the first time, for that last time – you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.

“I deserve to know,” you breathe heavily, and Natasha’s heart cracks. “You’re scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesn’t make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, I–”

“You deserve everything,” Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. “You deserve everything, but I can’t give you what you need, and that’s why this is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again.”

Silence ensues.

You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. “...What?”

“This is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again,” she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natasha’ stony face makes your face drop.

“Are you… breaking up with me?” you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because you’ve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.

“No, I’m not– I had to, Y/N, darling,” Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. “I’m a Goddess, and you’re a mortal. I love you, please. But we can’t do this, we can’t-”

“Is it me?” you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natasha’s magnificent green eyes, one’s that you’ve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.

“No,” Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. “It’s not you. Definitely not.”

“Then who is it?” you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. “Who’s the one tearing us apart?”

It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened in my life, and I’m a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isn’t in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on.

No, you’re the villain. Natasha’s voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. You’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, for all the hearts you’ve broken and never mended. It’s your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isn’t it? That she’s the one who’s so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.

…Only person to blame is yourself.

“It’s me,” Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.

“No, what are you saying, Nat?” you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. “You’re- we’re together. We’re doing good. We’re doing so fucking good, please don’t–”

“I’m the Goddess of Lust, and you’re an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasn’t made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just… lustful nights,” the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natasha’s mouth wasn’t her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.

You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.

And Natasha happened to be a very good one.

“We were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.” she continues. “We were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never real–”

“It was real to me!” You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes.

Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. “It was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you don’t get to just pretend you never fell in love!”

Love.

“Love?” Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. “Love doesn’t exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. We’re over, alright?”

You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and you’d wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.

“I’ve said what I had to say,” the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she won’t choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. “I’m leaving, now.”

She turns, and you grab her arm. “You’re staying.” you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.

This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. “Fucking make me, then.”

Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension you’d been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.

“We’re not gonna do this right now,” You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natasha’s skimpy dress.

The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.

“No? Then I’m leaving,” Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower.

The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes.

Click, click, click–

And then she’s being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.

“The only time someone ever turns their back on me, when I’m talking, is when they’re bendin’ over,” you growl into Natasha’s skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears.

Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. “Fuck,” she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what you’ve done a thousand times before.

Except this was the last time.

You don’t bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. “Fuck,” Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until she’s fucking soaking.

“I don’t think so,” you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.

You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldn’t be the last time. “Please,” Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.”Need you, please.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what you were saying just now, hmm?” You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants.

She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.

It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and she’s a fucking mess against the wall.

“Now you need me so bad?” You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. “Don’t have any more words to say?” God, she’s absolutely drenched, and you think you’re gonna die if you don’t go inside her in the next five seconds.

This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldn’t resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.

You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natasha’s babbling something you don’t understand, but you can’t wait any longer.

“Oh, fuck!” she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.

Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natasha’s legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. It’s hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.

She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.

You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. It’s too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.

You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again.

You’re about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and you’re pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.

She’s thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you don’t let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natasha’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head and there’s drool at the sides of her mouth.

“Pretty slut,” you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before she’s squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. “Daddy,” Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.

The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.

This was the last time.

After she’s come down from her high and you’ve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.

"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.

You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times you’ve done this truly hits you. How many hours you’ve spent exploring Natasha’s body. How many days you’ve spent worshipping.

All for it to succumb to this.

It’s only after another few orgasms that the weight of ‘the last time’ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.

“I loved you,” you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natasha’s heart. It’s only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because you’re crying.

“You deserve someone better,” is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips.

“You've ruined me for anyone else,” you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. “You loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to that. She can’t respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.

Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so.

You only wish everything could’ve been different.

—

You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.

No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.

Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.

This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace.

This wasn't the Goddess' universe.

Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.

This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life.

At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.

You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.

Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.

Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if you’d dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.

With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.

In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days.

In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.

All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been.

To every universe and back,

N.R.

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #x reader #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #goddess natasha #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff angst

2K notes · View notes

iceman-soup · 4 months

Text

ghost x soap

Of course it's fucking raining now that Soap and Ghost finally on leave. Sure, it's not unusual Scottish weather (they're staying in Johnny's small flat in Glasgow), and it's not like they were gonna do much today anyway, but still. It has them waking up in an already lazy mood, Simon shuffling to cuddle into his boyfriend closer and groaning.

The bed is too comfy and warm to get up, and Si doesn't want to move away from Soap's sleepy embrace. They're both conscious, quietly making incoherent noises of complaint at that fact back and forth at each other. Eventually, Johnny presses his lips to Ghost's forehead and rolls them over, sitting up on Simon's stomach to look out the window like a curious rabbit, then leaning down and littering his unmasked face with pecked kisses.

Simon laughs, running his hands through Soap's mohawk. Raindrops patter against the window as he flips them over again, hugging Soap tight then sitting up opposite him, pulling on a pair of comfy military-issued socks and one of his hoodies. The Sergeant sits up too, also pulling on one of Si's hoodies, and much fluffier socks with little skull prints all over them that Gaz had bought him as a gag gift which he ended up adoring.

"Mornin', love," Soap smiles, voice deep and groggy as he leans forward to rest his head on Ghost's chest, who hums in response and nuzzles his cheek against his hair. After a couple moments just sitting like that, the two reluctantly flop out of bed, padding their way over to the tiny kitchen before realising they barely have a scrap of food in the flat, only just having a few general ingredients and a small selection of tea and coffee.

Simon groans again, scanning the fridge as if something new is about to spawn in, before turning around, picking his boyfriend up and setting him on a counter, then passing him flour, eggs, milk and some oil, and getting out a frying pan for the stove.

"What're we making?" the shorter man asks, swinging his legs and playfully kicking Ghost whenever he gets in range.

"Secret," is the only reply he gets, but it's quickly obvious by the way Si mixes some flour, milk and two eggs together, creating a thin batter which he splashes into the pan, just about remembering to put oil in first so as to not completely fuck it all up. Then Chef Riley takes charge, and suddenly Johnny is being bossed around, ordered to get plates and get cutlery and cut up a lemon and put some caster sugar in a small bowl and set it out all pretty on the tiny dining table. In his own home, he complains lightheartedly.

The first pancake served is happily accepted by the Scot along with a quick kiss. The shit weather had only gotten worse, but that meant a perfect background noise for them to eat (although it did make conversation a little difficult). Once the batter is all used up, Ghost puts Soap on washing up duty, whilst he dries and puts everything away. And then it's essential to curl up on the sofa together, wrapped in one of Johnny's blankets, watching a randomly-selected war film and criticising even the slightest inaccuracies to make each other laugh.

#knawing on coffee tables PLEASE give me some requests #they can be x reader or ships IDC #i need requests pleasepleaseplease #on my knees begging. i'll suck cock if u want #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap fluff #ghost x soap #cod fluff

444 notes · View notes

royalsweetteaa · 11 months

Text

sadbucksblog asked: Ok here’s a thought that’s been running through my head. 1940s steve forcing himself on shy!innocent!reader and forcing her to marry him. Later when reader found out that he ‘died’ (during the plane crash), she was secretly glad. But surprise surprise Endgame steve came back to return the infinity stones n decides to stay with his widow for good.In my head, endgame steve is meaner & more jaded 😈

Oh, definitely!! Endgame Steve gives the most dom vibes out of all his previous versions. If reader thought Steve was bad in the 1940s, she has another thing coming when he returns. His stay in the modern age has corrupted him more and made him kinkier. Like imagine the things he would do against 40s reader now that he knows how to pleasure a woman, because I know for sure they didn’t care about that stuff in the 40s.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - Following contains: non-con, explicit smut, forced marriage, misogyny, 40s gender roles, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Steve, unbalanced power dynamic, mentions of somnophilia, slight bondage, dumbification, loss of virginity.

Title: His return

I imagine with this scenario, Steve liked Y/N a lot before he received the serum. You were so sweet and actually nice to him unlike the rest of the girls, but whenever he asked you on a date, you would reject him, saying you only saw him as a good friend.

And so after he got his super soldier strength, he expected you to like him back, because all women love strong and masculine men who can protect and provide for them (at least that’s how the gender norms were back in the 1940s). So imagine to his surprise when you kindly reject him even then after he has become a living female fantasy.

He literally cannot contain his fury and forces himself on you the same day, ignoring your pleas when you beg him to stop because you wanted to save yourself for marriage and give your virginity to someone you love.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’s not a sin if we end up getting married. You will take me as your husband or I’m going to tell everyone how much of a whore you are for spreading your legs so easily for me.” Steve threatened.

You were so scared, and knowing you had little authority in this situation, you did as he said. You knew no one would side with you if you were to protest against the new hero of the country; Captain America.

A month later, the two of you married and became husband and wife. Steve made you into his little house wife, and for each mission he came home from, he would fuck you for hours until you passed out. You were so clueless of the things Steve did to you sometimes, like whenever he would thrust inside of you in a specific angle causing you to feel an arising sensation from your abdomen. You didn’t know what it was, but it felt good no matter how shameful you were of it.

Whenever you accidentally dropped something, like a plate of food or when you burned dinner in the oven because you forgot the time, Steve would punish you by harsh spanking, telling you how bad of a wife you are for messing up your husband’s food. You would cry and apologize profusely until he stopped and left you with a sore butt.

He would also take you when you were fast asleep. You were a light sleeper, and only would you wake up when he jackhammered into you, causing a burning feeling around your sore pussy. Steve was huge due to his bodily enhancement, and it took a while for you to get used to his size. He would hardly talk when he fucked you as his only mission was to cum for relief. Steve was a busy man after all, with the war still ongoing. The weeks he was gone were the most peaceful times of your life ever since Steve took claim of you.

One fateful day, a military personnel visited you at your house and gave you the unfortunate news of the Captain’s loss. You shedded tears, but not because of Steve’s death. It was rather because the nightmare of a life was finally over. You felt relieved knowing Steve could never put his hands on you ever again.

2 years pass by, and you have all forgotten about Steve Rogers. You would occasionally see his face on posters and articles, and while it brought back some of the trauma, you always reminded yourself that he was gone for good.

At least, you thought he was.

It was a day like any other in your small little suburban house that you moved to after selling Steve’s house, and you suddenly heard the doorbell ring to your front door. You shouted ‘coming!’ to whoever was waiting outside, and turned off the temperature of your oven where there were freshly baked cinnamon rolls waiting for you later.

You open the door, and it’s like your whole world shatters before your eyes. There he was, your unmistakably still alive husband standing there. He looked more older, and it was only 2 years ago he was announced dead.

“Hello, my love. Have you missed me?” He asked darkly. You shrieked and tried to escape through the back door, but it was too late. Steve ran after you and grabbed you around your waist and held you down on the floor, preventing you from struggling away.

“That is no way to greet your husband after thinking he was dead for such a long time. I expected better from you, my wife. Maybe you have forgotten who you belong to and I need to give your dumb little brain a reminder.” He said, and carried you upstairs to your bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed like a rag doll and started to tie your wrists with velvet ropes he had brought with him to the headboard. This was new to you from all your previous experiences of having sex with Steve, and it scared you. “S-Steve, what is this?..what are you-!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and make you wish you never pulled that little escape stunt earlier. Silly woman, thinking you stand a chance against me. You’re mine, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your dumb head understands that.”

He ripped your clothes off harshly, and he unbuttoned his trousers to free his cock from the restraints. You expected him to penetrate you like he always did before. That was the only type of sex you two were familiar with. But this ‘new’ version of Steve had different plans.

Your eyes widened when his face lowered at your pussy, causing you to feel distressed. “W-Wait, don’t do that!…I-It probably smells, I don’t want you to get too close to it!”

“Oh, Y/N, my sweet wife. You’re so clueless. What I did and did not do before I disappeared was when I was a boy. But I’m a man now, and I’m going to teach you so many things of how we can pleasure each other.”

His tongue stuck out of his mouth and he licked a stripe of your cunt, causing you to cry out a moan. You have never felt anything like this before. It almost felt unreal. It only got worse when his tongue glided between your pussy lips, gathering all your juices for him to savour.

“You taste delicious, my love. There isn’t a thing that’s more tastier than your sweet pussy…” he mumbled into your sensitive skin.

Steve never talked like this during sex, and somehow you preferred him not to talk because it made it easier to not enjoy it. This Steve however was making it harder to hate it with each new thing he did, and it made you feel horrible about yourself.

Suddenly, Steve used what felt like his thumb to rub at a particular spot. It caused your whole body to jolt at once like you were electrocuted, and you felt an overwhelming heat spread across your whole body.

“Do you know what this little pearl is, doll? It’s called a clitoris. It’s your most sensitive part of your pussy, and it will only be recognized as what engorges your wetness and surrounds your vagina in 2009 - about 70 years from now on. It also has about 8,000 nerve endings, which is why you become so sensitive when I touch it. Isn’t that fascinating, my love?”

You didn’t pick up a word of what he was rambling about because you were too out of it from his circling motion of rubbing your pearly nub. You couldn’t stop moaning and panting. Again came that familiar feeling of a rising high. Before you knew it, the feeling hit you like a wave and you felt your hole quivering.

“Aaaww, you just came. How cute….” He cooed, with a victorious grin. “Now, let’s get to the main course of this session. Haven’t been in this pussy for a loooong time. And I’m sure you’ve been a good girl not having anyone else inside you, right?”

You didn’t respond to that question, still pretty out of what had taken place moments earlier.

He slapped your cheek lightly but harsh enough to take you out from your daze. “Answer me, whore.”

“N-No! I haven’t, Steve! No one has been inside of me since you disappeared! I promise!” You answered with frantic.

He smiled again. “Good.”

He aimed his cock at your hole and shoved himself in with little care. He groaned loudly, sounding so content with the current feeling. “Oh, I’ve missed her…missed your pussy so much…I’ve missed you..” he said followed with a grunt. “I’m so glad I’m back. Back together with you.”

For the rest of the evening, he would torture you with new tricks of his that opened a new world of sex for you. By the end of the night, Steve had you wrapped in his strong arms, whispering the most obscene things and promises in your ear. Most of them were connected to one promise that made you dread for the future.

A promise of never leaving you ever again.

Note from author: this turned out a lot longer than I originally planned but I really enjoyed the concept and couldn’t help myself. I’m a hoe for endgame AND 40s Steve.🧍Anyways, thank you @sadbucksblog for sharing your idea! <3 Hope you enjoy it!

(This has been reposted here as I have deleted my old account!)

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

#dark steve rogers x reader #40s steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #drabble #chris evans fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

alexthegamingboy · 1 year

Text

Toonami Weekly Recap 04/22/2023

Food Wars: The Fifth Plate (The BLUE Arc) EP#79 (06) - A Midsummer Christmas: The Book Master declares that the third challenge will be to impress three of the WGO's top judges. The Noir Chefs Sarge, Marcanta, Claude Ville, and Bunny Hare, who specialize in extremely unconventional but effective methods of cooking unique to themselves, easily pass. Many of the regular chefs are intimidated by the skill the Noir chefs present, but Soma, Megumi, Takumi, and Tsukasa easily pass as well. Erina meanwhile takes on the losers of the third challenge in another gauntlet. With the preliminary challenges completed, the competition transitions into a conventional tournament, with Soma being matched against Sarge in the first round with the theme being to bake a Christmas cake. Sarge uses a combination of a chainsaw, sledgehammer, and explosives to bake a Cluster Bomb Cake, which creates explosions of flavor in the mouth of anybody who eats it. Soma responds by obtaining a number of convenience store ingredients and a wooden ice cream spoon and using them to create his Midsummer Christmas Cake, which he presents to the judges.

My Hero Academia Season 6 Dark Hero Arc EP#138 (25) Finale - No Man Is an Island: All Might arrives at the site of his final battle in Kamino, lamenting his failure as a teacher and a hero, when he is confronted by Stain. Even after briefly revealing to him his muscle form to confirm his identity, Stain refuses to believe he is the "real All Might", and to take back his criticisms towards the hero. All Might explains his feelings on unable to make a difference due to the state of the world, only for Stain to show him a young girl who has been going out everyday to clean the All Might statue from its vandalism; the last person All Might saved during said battle. Stain tells him it wasn't power that made All Might great but his ability to inspire others and their wills to keep his flame burning, these words which start to move All Might. Stain promptly leaves, handing All Might a data disk he had retrieved from Tartarus, telling him to kill him when the time is right. At U.A., the boys give Izuku a swift soak in the bath, where Bakugo re-declares even after his apology, he still sees everyone as his rivals. After their clean-up, All Might arrives to apologize to Izuku, telling everyone they received information indicating the final battle is soon, heading back out to prepare. Izuku finally falls asleep and the rest of his classmates declare they will do everything to bring the world back. All Might meets up with Tsukauchi and the Police Force where they decode the information from Tartarus. They discover that All For One's consciousness within Shigaraki was able to communicate with his real self through Radio Waves, with the conversation revealing that Shigaraki's body will be complete in just three days. All Might requests immediate aid from the foreign heroes, with the world governments unsure how to respond due to their own issues. Despite this, America's Number 1 Hero, Star and Stripe, heads to Japan on her own with an army of fighter jets, intending to assist her "master". Shortly afterwards, Izuku wakes up from a nightmare, greeted by his classmates, whose presence helps relieve him of his stress, intending to save the day together.

Slightly Damned Page 1088: https://www.sdamned.com/comic/1088

#Toonami #Toonami Weekly Recap #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma #Food Wars: The Fifth Plate #The BLUE Arc #My Hero Academia #My Hero Academia 6 #Dark Hero Arc #Final Episode #Final Season Episode #Slightly Damned

2 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 10 months

Text

Post-mission is always a little rough on Simon. It’s getting back to some semblance of normalcy by sleeping and eating like he didn’t just technically commit a few war crimes. And her, God, if it weren’t for her, Simon doesn’t know where he’d be. Probably still alive, but deadened inside more so than he already thinks himself to be—he’d most likely be an even more hollow specter of a man. She helps, the best she can. Simon doesn’t tell her about the missions (for security purposes as much as it is her mentality), and she doesn’t ask too many questions other than, “Any injuries?” and “Kick some ass?”

He awakens to sunlight, a quiet bedroom, and a digital clock beside him that reads seven-thirty. Simon wonders if there’s something stronger than just chamomile in that tea she makes him drink at night when he isn’t tired, but he feels better than he has in months, so he isn’t complaining.

It does take him a few moments to actually find the desire to move, too warm, too comfortable. Her side of the bed is cool, but the scent of her remains and he rolls over, buries his face in her pillow, and inhales. Simon’s never really understood how shock blankets are supposed to ease someone’s fear, but he does know how the waves of calm seem to roll over him, like he’s laying on the bottom of the ocean, watching the waves as they crash over him, but it’s anything but choppy and rough. Smooth, gentle, loving.

His back aches as bad as his knees do when he finally gets up, but he stretches, pops his bones and joints before slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt, hood over his head as he pads into the hallway and listens. It’s a moment before he hears her humming from the kitchen and he follows the sweet sound of her soft voice, leaning against the doorway as he watches her.

Simon likes BLT’s and tomato bisque soup when he comes back from missions. It’s a special dinner she usually makes him, enough that he can have seconds and lunch for the day after, and she sings to herself as she spoons a hearty serving into the bowl on the tray before placing the freshly pressed sandwich on the plate with “Oo oo ah” as she blows on her fingers from the heat. There’s a fresh cup of tea and one of his water bottles with those electrolyte powders in it he loves. Even a fresh flower in a single vase.

A picture-perfect lunch and her smile drops like a sack of bricks, replaced with shock when she turns and sees Simon smiling softly at her from the doorway.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” she whispers, as if he’s not there. “You’re not in bed.”

He nods. “Your observation skills are stellar, love. Perhaps you actually are learning something.”

Her lids drop in a deadpan stare as she sets the tray back on the counter and points to it, “I made you food, asshat.”

Simon walks over and practically shoves half of the sandwich in his mouth and she merely sighs. “Fhank fou,” he says with his mouth full and normally, she’d make a comment on him chewing and talking with food in his mouth, but he looks at peace and that peace drifts to her as she reaches up, wipes the corner of his mouth as he swallows.

“You’re welcome, Simon.” Her fingers drift to his cheek and she thumbs his cheekbone. “My handsome Ghost.”

His larger hand covers hers and he hums. “No Ghost here, only me.” He gazes into her eyes. “Only Simon.”

Her eyes crinkle around the edges and she steps on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose to his as she whispers, “My handsome Simon. All mine. Always mine.”

“Always yours, love,” he murmurs back to her, hand still holding hers; he feels safe. “Forever.”

1K notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 2 years

Text

You, Me, & Steve

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x Steve Harrington Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: NSFW, smut, face riding, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, deepthroating, praise kink, daddy kink, gay sex, I’m not saying Steve’s a sub but Steve’s a sub, bottom!Steve, top!Eddie, switch?Reader, overstimulation, threesome... A/N: There this song called You, Me, & Steve by Garfunkel and Oates, and I love the song so...enjoy this filthy ass fic with everyone’s best friend Steve. Thank you!

You smile across the table at Eddie, pursuing another slice of pizza from the pie between you. His face is stuffed with a huge bite, cheeks full and a stupidly large grin on his face. There's grease on the corners of his mouth and a string of cheese hanging over his lip. You chuckle lightly before taking a bite of your slice.

He speaks around his mouthful, "It's great, right?"

"Mhm," you hum, chewing your slice thoughtfully, "'S good."

You set the slice on your plate, dusting off your ringed-up hands as you pick at the slice of pepperoni hanging off the side. Eddie tilts his head as he sets his own slice down, rubbing his hands together before wiping them on his jeans. They were his good jeans, the ones that only had the one small hole across the knee.

"Babe," he calls your attention, raising his brows and offering a small smile. "You okay?" He looks at you through his bangs, reaching over the table and brushing his fingers over your knuckles.

You look up at him and smile, "Yeah, perfect."

You feel his shoe tap against yours under the table and laugh. You return the kick lightly. "We playing Footsies now?" you raise a brow, laughing when you feel his foot kick you again. And then you are playing Footsies as he continues to nudge you here and there, the both of you at war under the table.

A small fit of giggles erupted from you as you gazed at Eddie, his big brown, doe eyes staring back as he laughed rambunctiously. You could have wished a thousand wishes for this moment. You can’t believe that it’s finally you and him, and him and you. Just you.

And his friend Steve.

Steve Harrington plops down in the seat right next to you with a pie in hand, laughing lightly at the scene he’d walked into. Your light-heartedness fades slightly as you glance at him with a tight smile.

“Playing games without me?” he quips as he sets the second pizza on the table. It’s loaded with toppings, and he immediately scoops a slice onto his plate, giving the both of you a large grin. Yours is forced as you return it, Eddie’s is easily reciprocated with nothing but his usually strange bubbliness.

You don’t even know what his whole deal with Steve is. He’s always around now. Before, you could snag plenty of hours with Eddie where it’s just the both of you alone. But now, it seems like you can’t shake Steve.

Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go catch a movie?” Then you’d say yes and be on your way to a drive-in and see Steve Harrington coming to join.

Then Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go out? Get some food and come back?” You’d say yes and be on your way. Then Steve fucking Harrington would show up once more.

Eddie notices you space out and looks at you again. “Hey, you okay?”

“Hm?” You look at him quickly and offer another tight smile. “Yeah, fine.”

You’ll be better when Steve leaves so you can hang out with your boyfriend alone.

You’re filled with a little bit of hope when Eddie asks you out again later on in the week. You’d just hung out with him and Steve all day. You are hoping Eddie has gotten his fill when he asks you if you want to get ice cream with him. You are excited as you get in his van alone, and then drive to the ice cream parlor alone, and then enter alone.

Your mood is ruined when you spot Steve waiting for the both of you in a booth. He flashes you both that huge grin and beckons you over. Eddie greets him happily and brings you both to go sit. You’re seething, but you hide it well.

It happens again when the circus is in town.

And then again when you and Eddie go to Skull Rock to let loose with some weed and Steve fucking Harrington just shows up.

You could have wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear. It's not that you don't like his friend, and it's not that you don't think he's great—truth be told, you had a major crush on Steve before you got with Eddie—but how many hours with him can you truly spend when you hardly even have time to fuck your boyfriend in peace? At the very least, you wanted to just have an hour to yourself to fuck Eddie without him getting a call from Steve to ask if the two of you wanted to hang out again. You hang out so much, you’re so pent up from not having the time.

Eddie notices your unease as you hole up in the living room of his trailer. Steve's lounging on the couch with you squished between them. He grabs your attention with a hand on your arm and excuses the both of you to his bedroom.

Eddie closes the door carefully behind him and is surprised when you jump his bones. You moan into his mouth as you push him against the wall and run your hands over his chest, your lips devouring him as all the pent up stress explodes.

He responds almost immediately, after getting over the initial shock, and kisses you back with just as much hunger. He’s just as pent up as you are. His arms wrap tightly around you, and he turns you around so you’re pressed up against the wall instead. You both moan into the other’s mouth, the sound muffled by your squished lips.

But then Eddie pulls away and smiles at you, chest heaving from breathlessness and eyes blown from lust. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly. “You okay?”

You huff as you stare at him, eyes darkened with desire. “I want you.”

“I can see that,” he laughs lightly. “But Steve’s in the other room.”

You groan and roll your eyes, stepping closer again as you grasp the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him down so his face is centimeters from yours, just a lip’s distance from kissing you. “Steve’s always in the other room. Or right beside me. Or fucking under me or you. He’s always around.”

Eddie licks his lips, sweeping some hair from your face before drawing patterns over your hips again. “Well, he’s my friend. I thought you liked Steve.”

You sigh, “I do, Eddie, I do… but, Jesus Christ, how long is he going to hang out with us every minute of every day? Why’s he always here? Because, seriously, what the fuck’s his fucking problem? I want you—need you to myself.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently before pulling back again. “Why don’t we wait Steve out or someth–”

“Are you gay for Steve?”

The question takes him off guard. You look at him with a raised brow as he chokes on air. You already know of Eddie’s bisexuality. He came clean to you about that a long time ago and was met with more acceptance than he realized was coming his way—as if you couldn’t tell when you first met him by the way he acted around certain people.

“I think you might be gay for Steve, Eddie. And that would be alright, but I need you to let me know this shit,” you tell him, tilting your head to one side as you stare him down. “I mean, if you want Steve, just tell me. I’ll… I’ll step back, and you can have him. I just need to–”

He interrupts you with a kiss. It’s a possessive kiss, one that renders you breathless as he presses you against the wall again and cradles your head in his hands. He licks your bottom lip before he pulls back. “You know I fucking love you,” he tells you, his voice low and raspy and fucking amazing. You smile a little, reassured as a weight lifts from your chest at the prospect of Eddie leaving you.

He sighs and pulls back to look at you again. “Okay, look,” he begins. “You remember when you told me after we first got together that you had that huge crush on Steve?” You blush but nod, swallowing hard. “And then I told you that I had that crush on him, too?” Again, you nod. He smiles a lopsided grin, seemingly amused by his next words as he speaks. “Well, Steve has a huge crush on you, too. And he has a huge crush on me.”

Your brain is a little slow to process. You tilt your head as you examine his face. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you speak. “Wait, Steve’s bi like you?”

Eddie nods, still grinning. “Steve’s bi like me,” he confirms.

You stare for a moment. “Huh.”

Once Eddie’s sure you understand, he continues. “When Steve came clean to me about it, he also asked me if we could…be his experience.” You stare at him, a little confused only because you were hesitant to figure out his riddles.

“He wants to fuck us.”

You blink a couple of times as you finally understand his words. Eddie laughs, “I only had him around all the time because you know I’m terrible with words, and I wanted to see if you still had that fat crush. But you seemed a little put off by Steve being around all the time so I was about to turn him down.”

You suddenly laugh. It’s a loud laugh that both confuses and entices Eddie. Suddenly, your frustration dissipates into something less heavy. You look at Eddie and smile wide, “Eddie, you should have just told me. I was only upset because I never had alone time with you anymore. If Steve wants a threesome, he can have a threesome. Just talk to me next time, this was not the way to do this.”

Eddie beams. He fucking beams. You can tell he’s been waiting to fuck Steve for a while. You’ve kind of been waiting to fuck Steve, too. Now you’ll be doing it together. Dreams really do come true.

“‘Course,” he replies. “God, I love you.”

You smile teasingly, “Well, I’m not God, but I love you, too.”

He chuckles and kisses you quickly before stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Be right back.” Then he leaves the room to fetch your Steve. You stand there for a moment, still coming to terms with the agreement. Your cheeks blush, and you shake your head, biting your bottom lip in thought.

You laugh and sit on the bed, suddenly nervous as you run the palms of your hands over your thighs. It’s really hot all of a sudden, and the thought of Steve’s body moving over yours makes it even hotter. You hear the TV in the living room cut off, and then you hear Steve and Eddie’s voices murmuring in the other room. Then they approach the door and it’s unbearably hot. You remove your top.

Eddie and Steve walk into the room with you shirtless, your black bra exposing your chest as they take in the sight of you. “Damn, babe,” Eddie snorts. “I knew you were excited, but that was quick.”

You roll your eyes at him and look at Steve, who’s staring wide-eyed at your chest. He notices you watching him watch you and blushes, his face turns completely pink. “Wow,” is all he says. It’s all he can manage.

Eddie closes the door behind him and moves to sit next to you. You feel awkward sitting next to Eddie as you both look up at him. Eddie doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything to help out, so you do. “Eddie just told me you came out to him. He told me about your crushes and everything, and–”

“Is this weird?” he interrupts. “I swear, if it’s weird, I can leave and we can just agree never to talk about this again.” He takes to running his hand through his hair, messing it up as his pink face turns red. He tries to take a step back, a strange movement in his legs as he retreats. You notice the tent. It’s huge.

You stand and close the distance between you. You press your lips to his before he can continue talking, grabbing a hold of his shirt to pull him down to meet you. He’s surprised and breathless and has no idea what to do. So he just kisses back, and when you pull away, he’s speechless.

“Steve, I’ve liked you since way before I got with Eddie. The only thing that would make this weird is if you walked out that door and we all pretended this never happened,” you tell him, brushing your fingertips over his cheek. “Now, kiss me again.”

And he does. All the awkwardness has left his body in an instant, because he’s all over you in the next second. He walks you backwards until you fall onto the bed next to Eddie, hands grabbing clothes, lips sliding against skin, too much heat for one person to take. He’s been pent up for a while.

You moan helplessly into his mouth, weaving your fingers through his hair as you allow him full access to your mouth. Eddie’s watching, licking his lips and watching you both hungrily. He didn’t expect seeing his boy crush and his girlfriend making out so passionately to be as big of a turn on as it is.

But he gets jealous quickly. “Don’t hog all the fun,” Eddie breathes. You let go of Steve to look at your boyfriend, who takes Steve by the nape of his neck and crashes his lips down on him.

Steve doesn’t have time to be shocked by the sudden kiss, he doesn’t have time to process. He melts against Eddie, visibly melts as he kisses back. You watch with bated breath, mouth watering and body tingling. God, you wanted more.

They sit at the edge of the bed, making out desperately as you get onto your knees and watch them. You lean forward, moving some hair from Steve’s neck so you can kiss him there. His skin is soft between your lips. You take some between your teeth, nibbling and suckling as he groans lightly against Eddie’s mouth.

You flatten your hand against Steve’s chest, slipping underneath his shirt to feel the expanse of his skin there. You take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling on it with a shuddering breath before you pull away. Eddie helps you, pulling Steve’s shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.

He turns him and shoves him onto the bed so he’s lying on his back. Steve huffs for breath, overwhelmed by everything as he watches the both of you stare down at him with lust blown pupils. Eddie smiles down at him, “Now, you stay right there.”

Eddie’s hand wraps behind your head and pulls you close as he kisses you again. He tastes like Steve, like Carmex and Coca-Cola. You moan into his mouth, smoothing your hands under his shirt before you pull it off of him so you can feel his bare skin under your palms.

He’s hungry, you can tell. For you, for Steve. He wants you both all to himself, and now he knows he can have it. His lips find your throat. He kisses and suckles the skin there before his teeth sink gently into your earlobe. “Why don’t you go sit on Stevie’s face? I’m sure he’ll love that.”

You shudder at his suggestion, warmth spreading over your skin as you agree. You lean over Steve’s body, kissing the expanse of his skin from above his belly button, to his chest, his nipples, his throat. You pay extra care to his throat, licking and sucking and nibbling the skin there as your hand holds his chin up to keep his neck exposed.

Steve’s hands grip your sides, keeping you close as he moans underneath you. Eddie kisses your back, his lips connecting with your skin at the spot right before it disappears into your jeans. He pulls those down, over the curve of your ass and to your knees. He plays with your panties before removing those as well. He slips them off of you completely without Steve even realizing what’s happening, too caught up in the feeling of your lips and teeth against his throat. He’s sure you’ve marked him up.

When your clothes have been abandoned somewhere in the room, Eddie takes a generous handful of your ass and kneads it. He’s obsessed with the sounds you make as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He places a kiss over each cheek.

You move on from Steve’s neck when Eddie clears his throat. You kiss Steve’s face, his lips and his cheeks and his forehead, the very tip of his nose. You worship him with your lips before you let him worship you with his tongue. You sit up and he notices you're mostly naked, save for the bra—which Eddie has just unclipped and removed from your body. Now, you’re entirely naked. Steve’s obsessed.

He looked drunkenly up at you, his brown eyes are black and his pink lips are kiss swollen. You share a look, a question in your eyes as you stare for a moment. He just nods, he nods eagerly. He’s really excited.

So you lower yourself onto Steve’s face, and he fucking gets to work. He’s licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your pussy, which had already been throbbing from the anticipation. You’re a moaning mess as you practically melt against him. You have to hover above his face just to make sure you are not bearing the entirety of your weight on him. His arms wrap around your thighs to pull you closer, and it doesn’t seem as though he’s super into you not bearing the entirety of your weight on him.

He pulls you down with a swift tug and you're fully seated on his face. He must be in heaven because he certainly looks like it. Your brain is all mushy and your limbs are shaking as he eats you out like a man starved. His tongue plunges deep inside of you, licking up everything you have to offer as you drip out all over his face.

Eddie’s hard in his pants as he watches. His lip is swollen from both your kisses and his teeth sinking into it at the sight of you two. He finds himself wishing the roles were reversed for a moment. He knows how glorious it is to be buried between those thighs, and he yearns for it suddenly. But he can make due.

Eddie discards his rings slowly, purpose in each little movement. The bed dips, unbeknownst to either of you as you find yourself preoccupied with one another, and he takes his time. Steve’s hips jerk when he feels his zip being undone, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to your spine before whispering against you. “Don’t come yet, baby. I’ll tell you when, okay?” All you can do is nod. You’re too caught up in the pleasure that Steve is throwing at you as he sucks on your clit like candy.

You moan helplessly, grinding down against his face. His pointed nose presses into your clit in the most perfect way, and it turns you to putty. “Shit, S-Steve,” you whimper. “S’good. You can’t stop.” Because if he stops, you’ll explode.

Eddie just smiles, shifting Steve’s mom jeans down his thighs without a comment about them. He’s a little too distracted to pick up on the joke anyway. He sinks to his knees, removes Steve’s cock from his tight pants, and—Jesus Christ, he’s huge. Eddie’s eyes are wide as he stares at it, completely mesmerized. Steve is rock hard and thick, a delicious vein running the length of his cock that he can’t help but want to lick. And he does, Eddie flattens his tongue against the underside of it and licks a long stripe up Steve’s cock.

His whole body jerks, and he groans rather loudly into your swollen cunt. You jerk next, the vibrations making you melt. You’re barely holding it together, and Eddie expects for you to hold out for a command.

You don’t think you’ll make it. You wonder briefly what Eddie will do if you come without his permission. Will he spank you? Will he make you suck him off? Will he make you suck Steve off? Maybe both at the same time? You’re unable to finish your thoughts as Eddie starts another chain reaction by flicking his tongue over the slit of Steve’s dick.

It’s not long before Eddie finally takes Steve into his mouth. It’s an adjustment, that’s for sure. He’s used to eating out, not sucking off, but he takes it like a pro. Steve’s moaning and grunting into your weeping pussy, and you’re finding it a lot harder to hold off your release that way.

You have to lift off of his face, put a little bit of distance between you two to avoid disobeying Eddie. But Steve is insistent, addicted. He licks his lips where your arousal has spilled over, along with his chin and his cheeks, and really his whole face. His hands bring your back down with his iron grip and he’s buried in you again.

You throw your head back and screw your eyes shut, back arched and body trembling. If Eddie doesn’t let you come soon, you’re going to burst. Steve isn’t helping. You don’t think he’s particularly interested in helping, though.

Steve’s slurping sounds mixed with Eddie’s are driving you insane. You want to scream, to cry, to come. You can only do the first two, and it’s not enough.

A whimper escapes from your throat, rough and whiny as you stutter out, “Daddy…”

Steve nearly chokes, but Eddie replies, “You talkin’ to me or him, sweetheart?”

You grind against Steve’s mouth, the only other alternative to running away from the pleasure that will make you explode. “I needa come,” you whine. “Please, can I come?”

Eddie has to think for a moment, his fist still stroking Steve as he stares at your beautiful back. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and flicks his wrist. Steve groans into you, you whimper. “You've been such a good girl. I’ll let you come…long as Stevie comes, too.”

You don’t think that will be much of a problem. A waterfall of gratitude slips from your lips as your hands tangle in Steve’s hair, gripping and tugging on the dark locks your fingers intertwine in. Eddie’s mouth is on Steve again, and he sucks hard on your clit. You buck against his face, your sounds climbing as you finally find release. You come all over Steve’s face, still grinding and whining as senseless ramblings fall from your lips. “Ah, yes! Thank you, Daddy. S’ so good!”

Steve can’t take it anymore. Between your whimpering praises to his skills and Eddie sucking on his dick, he follows right after you in no time. He moans into your cunt, licking you up greedily as he spills into Eddie’s mouth. There’s so much going on, you can’t process any of it with your jelly-like brain. All you know is that if Steve keeps lapping at your pussy like this, you’re going to burst.

You lift yourself up on shaky thighs to get away from his greedy mouth. He follows you until he can’t anymore, glancing up at your contorted face to see what was happening. Steve sits up, locking eyes with Eddie for a moment and nearly losing it again when he sees his cum decorating Eddie’s face. Eddie’s having a fucking field day with it, too.

Steve shifts you so you’re sitting in his lap, taking your chin in his hands as he looks over your face. “Aww, baby,” he whispers to you. “Can’t take it? Is it too much?” The way he speaks to you, so soft and taunting as he makes you look him in the eye, it turns you on far more than it should. You’re helpless against him, pushing forward to kiss him again.

He only lets you for a moment before pulling you back. “You like how Daddy takes care of you?” he coos, moving some of your hair out of the way. You nod, practically begging for another kiss. As you lean forward again, you feel him brush against you and look down.

Your eyes widen, taking in the sight of his cock. You’re practically salivating because, Jesus Christ, he’s huge. You want it, you want him. Glancing behind you, you can see Eddie taking his spot with his chest flush against your back. You’re squished between them, Eddie’s still in his jeans but Steve is completely naked like you. It’s unfair. But you’re still a little preoccupied by Steve.

Eddie notices you looking and just nods. “I know, he’s a big boy, isn’t he?” he asks, his mouth connecting with the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He licks and sucks and bites the skin there, making sure it’s well loved as he does. “You want to taste him, don’t you? You want to see just how big he is?”

You nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie’s teeth brush against that little spot on your throat that drives you crazy. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, reaching a hand back to tangle in his messy head of hair. “Fuck, I want that.”

He takes your face in his hand, squishing slightly so your lips pucker. He turns you so you’re looking at Steve, whose predatory eyes glare into yours and devour your soul. “Tell him,” Eddie says. “Tell Steve how much you want him.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “I want you,” you whisper, barely audible over the heavy breaths and the sound of your blood pumping in your ears.

Steve tsks at you, “You can do better than that. Come on, kitten. Tell me what you want.”

Something in you flips as you lean forward, Eddie’s hand wrapped securely around your throat to keep you from kissing Steve. You moan, “I want you so bad. I wanna suck you off, and I wanna taste you and see how big you are.”

Steve is losing his mind. Your compliance comes so naturally and he briefly wonders if it was trained into you by Eddie or if it was just your natural state. He glances over your shoulder at Eddie and scoffs playfully. “Eds, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was such a slut.”

Eddie beams pridefully, “I know. Ain’t she the best?”

“Please,” you whimper.

“Alright, alright.” Steve smiles at you, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to your lips as he smiles down at you. “Let’s see what Eddie says first. He is the boss.”

“So sweet,” he comments, turning your face so he can kiss your lips. You melt, reaching for him as you divulge in his pleasure. You sigh against his lips, tasting the salty taste of Steve’s cum on his tongue. You lick into his mouth, yearning for more as Eddie gives it.

He pulls away after a moment, hand still wrapped around your throat to ensure you can’t continue kissing him so he can think. He smiles, “Yeah, you can suck him off.” He looks past you, his eyes drilling into Steve’s as a wicked grin takes his face. “Steve’s mouth’ll be busy anyway.”

You might not be the only one drooling.

Eddie’s hands grip your waist, and he lifts you up off of Steve. He sits you on the floor so you’re on your knees and tells you to stay, throwing a “good girl” at you when you listen to him. He makes a come hither motion to Steve, who obeys just as well as you do when he crawls off the bed, sitting in front of you.

Eddie takes off his jeans, pushing them down his legs to reveal the tattoos that had been hidden from everyone but you. The both of you stare at them. There’s a barbed wire tattoo around his upper left thigh, a skull eating a heart on the inside of his right thigh, more chain link around his calf. Behind one knee is a tattoo of both your initials. It’s small, and it’s simple, but you love it.

He catches the both of you staring, smirking devilishly. “You like what you see?” You nod, biting your lip to try and hide your smile. He bends down to kiss your forehead. When he straightens his back again, you’re met with his cock in your face. He’s painfully hard, red swollen head, the vein on the underside bulging. You stick out your tongue and lick him.

He gasps between his teeth, stepping away a little with a breathy chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he says. He brushes his knuckles over the apple of your cheek. You lean forward and kiss his pelvic bone, long and lingering as his cock twitches in response. He groans and tangles his fist in your hair for just a moment before pulling you away. “Go on and taste Steve instead. I know you want to.”

And you do. You really do. Steve’s leaning back against the bed, and you realize why Eddie had you sit on the floor the way you were. You sink to the floor, swatting away one of the suspiciously crusted up socks Eddie had lying on the carpet. You take Steve’s cock in your hand, looking up at him as he clenches his jaw.

He’s thick, thicker than Eddie. As you pump your fists up and down his shaft a couple of times, you’re both moaning at the feeling of it. Eddie watches intently, his face hard as he stares. Steve’s hips buck up into your hand when you squeeze, breathing a shaky breath in response. You shift down so your face is level with his dick. God, he’s big. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take him. But one thought back to Eddie reminds you that it probably won’t be as hard as you think, besides you want to impress them.

You pump your fist once more and lick the tip of his cock. Steve hisses, still sensitive from before. Your tongue glides over the slit, tasting his precum as it seeps out. You flatten your tongue along the underside of him, licking from base to tip to feel him. Then you take him in your mouth.

Steve throws his head back against the mattress as you swirl your tongue over his tip, bobbing your head down the length of him as you adjust to his size. His hand weaves in your hair for a moment. He doesn’t guide you, he just tangles his fist to ground himself.

He doesn’t notice Eddie step over him until his mouth falls open to let out a breathy moan. He feels Eddie’s own cock rest against his lips and opens his eyes again. Eddie’s looking down at him with such a dominant gaze, he almost loses his breath. He opens his mouth a little wider, untangling his hand from you in favor of holding onto Eddie.

Eddie leans forward, slipping his cock onto Steve’s hot tongue. It’s an adjustment for him, but he manages as he licks along him. When Steve feels you suckle around him, he grunts and Eddie follows after. It takes a moment, but Steve gets the hang of it rather quickly. It’s almost a dance, the both of you moving in time with one another's movements. Eddie bends forward just enough to grip the sheets behind Steve’s head before finally just taking a fistful of his hair.

You take Steve’s cock down your throat, surprising yourself when you don’t choke on his size. Steve chokes though, he hadn’t expected you to be able to take it—he’s not used to people being able to take it. You and Eddie are surprising him a lot tonight.

You aren’t able to take the last inch, he’s so thick, it’s hard to. He doesn’t seem to mind, perfectly content with the way you fuck your throat on his cock as he fucks his on Eddie’s. He must be in heaven, Steve’s sure of it. There’s no other explanation for all of this. It’s good, and it’s overwhelming, and he wants more.

“Fuck, this mouth is amazing,” Eddie comments. “Now I know what you were screaming about, babe.”

Steve twitches in your mouth, spurred on by Eddie’s praise. You moan, reaching between your thighs to run your fingers through your folds. You’re still soaking, dripping wet from all the factors encouraging your pleasure. Steve is going to come soon, you know it. It makes you work harder, eager to taste him on your tongue as the sounds you make become increasingly naughty.

Eddie’s trying his best not to thrust into Steve’s mouth. It’s hard to, with the way he takes him. He moans more and more, driving Eddie absolutely insane. “Shit, keep that up, sweetheart.” Eddie’s talking to you, his eyes are screwed shut as he nears his own release with Steve. Your finger swirls circles over your abused clit, and your whimpers encourage Steve.

Eddie’s gasping for breath. You’re addicted to the sound, you want to pull it out of him next. He’s going to come soon, so is Steve. You can’t wait as you work harder. Then it’s only a few seconds. Eddie steels his jaw and thrusts forward, little to no warning given as he spills down Steve’s throat. Steve follows directly after, and you are more than happy to clean him up.

Your greedy tongue licks him up as he had done for you. He’s better than you thought, and it makes you yearn for more. Eddie pulls out of Steve’s mouth, lingering there for a moment to catch his breath before shifting out of the way. It gives Steve a clear view of you as you lick along his shaft, collecting his cum on your tongue. He has to pull you away from his dick to catch a break, too sensitive to handle you at the moment.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “Such a fucking slut.”

The way you smirk is mischievous, a spitting image of Eddie’s own devilish grin. “Takes one to know one.” Steve brings you forward and crashes his lips on yours. You moan into his mouth and crawl forward for more. Eddie ventures behind you, sinking to his knees and taking your ass in his hands again. A swift smack to both your cheeks makes you yelp and press further into Steve. When Eddie’s hot tongue sinks inside of you, you moan and your shaky legs nearly give out.

“You taste good, sweetheart,” he praises, spreading you apart as he licks you up. You whimper and grip onto Steve tighter. But Eddie doesn’t keep going for you to come. He pulls away from you after a moment, licking his lips to taste what he could before whispering in your ear. “You’ve been such a good girl, baby,” he groans. “That deserves a reward.”

You visibly melt against Steve, barely able to hold yourself up now. He scoops you up into his arms, and Steve stands after. He practically throws you onto the bed, spreading your legs wide and pressing them up to show off your glistening cunt. He bends down to kiss you there, but he doesn’t indulge. He delivers a surprise smack and you yelp again, and then he steps away.

You see Steve and watch him stroke his sensitive cock a couple of times before letting it fall against your belly. You suddenly lose your breath at the sight of him. He’s so fucking big, he’s going to split you open. Quite frankly, you’re counting on it.

He smirks at you, bends down to kiss your lips, and then turns you over so you’re on your stomach. He manhandles you until you’re on your knees, presenting your ass to him as he massages it thankfully. Eddie moves in front of you, taking a seat with his legs spread wide. You lean forward and kiss his lips. He tastes so good.

His fist tangles in your hair as he pulls you away, winking at you before readjusting you so that you’re level with his cock. You’re all too happy to obey. Just as you take him in your hands, you feel Steve’s tip prodding at you. Your breath catches in your throat, but he doesn’t do anything yet. You feel him move against you, running his cock through your folds in a teasing way that makes you want to scream.

You hang your head, your breath heavy as you grow more and more impatient. “Daddy, please,” you whimper. “Please, I need it.”

He doesn’t answer you, at least not with words. All the breath is forced from your lungs when he pushes inside of you. You're slicked up enough that it’s not as hard, but it takes a moment before he’s buried inside of you. He’s practically stuffed inside you as you squeeze around him, tight and warm and wet. Steve groans and sighs deeply once he’s fully inside. Your legs tremble. You can’t think. You feel so full, he’s filled you up to the brim with his cock.

You only remember Eddie’s cock in your face when you feel him press it against your tongue. You wrap your lips around him and suckle on it, gasping around him when Steve pulls out way too slowly. You’re going to cry. It’s so much. Him going slow will make you crazy.

Steve’s gripping your hips tightly to keep you steady. He pulls out to the tip, and you can feel his thighs tighten against your skin as he presses himself flush against you before thrusting inside. It’s rough, and it’s fast, and you scream. It hurts for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by a trembling amount of pleasure. Eddie’s hand tangles in your hair as he directs your head to take him down your throat. It muffles your helpless mewls and sends shivers through Eddie in return.

Steve does his best to go slow, trying to make sure you adjust to him before he does anything else. You clench around him, sucking him in as he takes you slowly. Eddie can tell you’re suffering with his pace through your weak moans. He looks up at Steve and tilts his head. “You can do better than that,” he says.

Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, too focused on your constricting cunt to think of anything else. He glances at Eddie. “Tryna get her ready.”

Eddie scoffs, “Oh, she’s ready alright.” Steve’s still a little hesitant, he can tell. Eddie leans forward, wrapping a hand behind Steve’s neck to pull him closer. They’re so close now, Steve’s shallow breaths quicken. “Let go,” Eddie tells him. “I know you want to. She can handle it.”

And Steve listens. His slow pace is long forgotten, replaced with a speed that would rip you in half as he shoves his cock inside of you, only to pull out so he can do it again. You’re a moaning mess, gasping for breath and clenching the sheets underneath you. It feels so good, it’s hard for you to keep up when he’s splitting you apart on his cock.

Eddie’s fist tightening in your hair reminds you of your previous job. You take his cock in your hand, pumping him a couple of times before suckling on him. After a moment, Eddie takes control again. He presses your head down on him, pulling Steve forward to kiss him as he pistons inside of you from behind. You’re struggling to support yourself on your elbows, your legs are trembling and the sensations of Steve’s dick thrusting so roughly inside of you are too much. He fills you and fucks you until your brain is a pile of mush.

Eddie’s cock slides in and out of your throat as he guides you, sighing against Steve’s mouth as you take him. Your clit throbs between your legs, which Steve spreads apart even more to allow more access to your dripping cunt. His hips snapping against your ass are loud and wet, your arousal spilling out all over the both of you as it drips down your thighs.

Steve breaks from the kiss to kiss along your spine, whispering in your ear. “That’s it, baby. Squeeze that pussy. Show Daddy how good he’s making you feel,” he rasps, his teeth clenching down around a patch of skin to make you gasp again. His hand comes to wrap around your throat. He can feel Eddie’s cock thrusting in and out of it and it spurs him on.

“She’s an angel,” Eddie comments. “Fuck, I love her so much.”

Steve groans, “I can see why. She’s perfect.”

Their praise is making it hard to do anything but moan. You’re so full, and they’re doting on you like you’re their perfect girl—and you are. They make a point in letting you know.

Steve’s thrusts are becoming sloppy and Eddie’s becoming more vocal as he nears his own release. There are so many wet sounds and moans in the air, it’s hard to keep track of what’s coming from where. And when Steve’s finger presses against your clit, you’re done for.

Eddie pulls him up to kiss his lips again, and Steve’s fingers become faster. You’re going to burst, you’re going to explode. There’s no way you’ll last any longer like this, especially as he spreads your legs wider with his own. Eddie’s grip on your hair pushes you down just a little more, burying his length inside your throat.

Steve’s moan as he comes is muffled against Eddie’s mouth. His thrusts don’t stop as he comes, they’re closer together, and they’re rougher as he allows your pussy to milk him. That perfect spot mixed with the flick of his wrist pushes you over the edge. You come with a shout, pulling off of Eddie’s cock to gasp and moan and scream because, “Oh, fuck! Yes, Daddy!”

Eddie doesn’t get to come, and he’s not all that upset about it. He’s perfectly content to watch his lovers come all over each other in an explosion of lust and pleasure. Steve presses himself as far as he’ll go as you spasm around him, thighs trembling as your body falls heavily against the sheets, your face still laying on Eddie's lap.

When he pulls out, he’s still gasping for air. He sets you down gently so you don’t just fall onto the bed. You're limp as you slowly recover from your mind-numbing orgasm. You feel so empty without his cock filling you to the brim. He kisses along your spine, feather-light and praising with each connection of his lips to your skin.

He steps away from you, catching his breath as he looks up at Eddie. “Shit,” is all he says as he shakes his head. Eddie agrees with a dopey grin. He shifts off of the bed, running his hand through your hair to soothe you as you lay there helplessly. Steve runs a hand down your spine, and you feel all warm as they take care of you.

Steve sits at the edge of the bed, sweeping some hair from your cheek where it stuck to the layer of sweat on your skin. He bends down and kisses you there, whispering gently into your ear. “You did absolutely amazing, baby,” he coos. “I couldn’t have asked for more.”

You smile at him, even with your face still buried in the sheets. You feel Eddie’s hands on your waist. He flips you over so you’re on your back again. He bends over your body and kisses all over your face. You love him. You love him so much as he takes care of you, makes you feel special.

Your fuzzy thoughts are interrupted when you feel his cock against your pussy. You whine, and he just kisses the tip of your nose. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers. “Just one more? Can I have one more?” Again, you whine, but it’s not out of denial. “I know, sweetheart. You’re still all sensitive. Just wanna make you feel good one more time, and then you can rest. Is that okay?”

You nod. You could never say no to Eddie, especially not when he acts all sweet—not that you would if you could. He beams, your heart warms at the sight. Eddie’s cock slips between your folds, teasing you for a moment as he coats himself in the mixture of yours and Steve’s cum.

He slips inside of you with ease. He sighs as he bottoms out, pressing deep within you. He clenches his teeth for a moment as you whimper, squirming underneath him. Steve fucked you raw, and you’re sure Eddie will, too. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs. “How the fuck are you still tight?”

You could ask the same question, but you’re still fucked out from before. Eddie starts moving in no time, grasping onto a pace as he slowly builds. You’re already moaning before he’s even gotten faster. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire. Every movement inside of you is unbearably good. You clench around him as he presses himself deeply within you. Steve may be thicker, but Eddie’s longer.

He fucks you good, holding onto your hips and bringing you to meet each thrust. You’re trying to find something to hold onto before Steve’s hands find yours, allowing you to grip onto him as Eddie takes what he wants. You can already feel your urge to come sneaking up on you. It doesn’t help that Eddie brings his thumb to tease your clit. He doesn’t really rub it, merely flicks and taps to drive you insane. It works.

You moan for him, feeling your cum dripping out of you beginning to stick to your thighs and fall onto the bed sheets. “You’re doing so well,” Steve whispers. His eyes are glued to your breasts, watching them bounce as Eddie fucks you hard. He’s mesmerized by the sight of them. He reaches out to cup one of them, playing with your nipples with watering lips. Steve loves your tits.

After a moment, he just moves off of the bed to lean beside it so he can press kisses to your chest. His lips trail along your skin, as if you need more teasing from these two. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking harder as he flicks his tongue and teeth over the sensitive bud. And he does suck on them, just as he’d done with your clit when you rode his face.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie gasps. “Gonna make me come inside you.” You nearly explode then and there. There’s so much going on. Your brain is fuzzy, your body is trembling, and you know you’re going to burst any second now.

Eddie tortures you with his thumb once more, circling your clit to bring you closer to your sweet release. Your body can’t take any more. You don’t wait for a command, you don’t announce yourself, you just come. You arch your back, pressing your chest further against Steve’s mouth, and shout. You clench down around Eddie as senseless cries leave your throat. Eddie thrusts rougher into you a couple of times before he comes after you.

The sound he makes is pathetic when he comes. It’s a mix of a whimper and a moan as he empties himself inside of you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer, deeper. He lingers there, relishing in the feeling of you squeezing his cock as you milk him.

After a while, he pulls out and Steve pulls off of your breast. You’re breathless and limp from the overstimulation crashing down on you. You’re exhausted. You want nothing more than to fall asleep squished between these two.

You feel both Eddie and Steve’s hands smooth over your aching body, gently massaging all of the tension from your limbs as you lay there, unable to bring yourself to move. You feel Eddie take hold of the underside of your thighs, lifting them up until you’re basically folded in half. Then you feel Eddie’s hot tongue against you again. This time, he’s greedy.

You mewl and whine and whimper as his languid tongue licks through your folds, tasting the mix of cum that dares to slip out of you. He suckles gently on your pussy, your clit, anything his tongue can reach. He cleans you up, and you do nothing but make your pathetic little sounds that are soon muffled by Steve’s lips.

Eddie doesn’t make you come again. He can tell you’re a little too sensitive for that, and you’ve already been so good. He takes a step back and is replaced by Steve, but only for a moment to allow him to lick you a couple of times and place a teasing kiss over your swollen clit.

They put you out of your misery by carefully lowering your thighs. They cuddle up into the sheets, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open. Eddie pulls you to his chest, allowing you to bury your face in his pecs as you cling to him. He feels you press a tiny kiss to his skin and just smiles. “So good, baby. So good,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you so much.”

You can only mumble, but he understands you without a drop of trouble. Steve takes his place behind you, but his arms reach behind Eddie to pull you both closer. Eddie glances at him over your head, smiling gently. Steve pulls the blankets up to cover the three of you, and lays back against the pillows, burying his face in your hair as he takes in your scent.

You don’t even try to fight your exhaustion. They can both already tell you’re fast asleep. Eddie sighs contentedly, watching as Steve settles down completely in the small bed. He smiles.

“Hey,” he whispers. Steve looks at him, humming a sound deep in his throat. Eddie licks his lips, “If you want to…I don’t know, join us…I’m sure she’ll be more than happy. ‘Course we’ll have to talk about it, and it doesn’t have to be weird or anything. Just—if you ever want to, it’s totally–”

“Hey,” Steve interrupts him with a small chuckle. “I’d be happy to.” Eddie smiles, ignoring the blush that had spread over his cheeks. He closes his eyes and pulls you closer.

Just you and Eddie and Steve.

Eddie the Banished taglist: @sweetcoffeebearr @life-on-needs @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @katsukis1wife @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano Tag yourself here...

4K notes · View notes

happy74827 · 6 months

Text

Christmas War

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: In what started as a harmless joke, turned into a full obliteration. And it’s all thanks to Harvey.

WC: 2893

Category: Mega Fluff

Since it’s now officially December, I thought I would start the holidays off right with a fluffy Harvey fic. Enjoy.

『••✎••』

Harvey was many things: A partner, a best friend, a family member...But none of those things mattered as much as you did at this moment. You practically glowed like an angel as you slept soundly in his bed, his white button-up shirt laying over your bare chest like a blanket, protecting you from the slight chill that lingered in the apartment.

He felt a little bad, just slightly, for what he was about to do, but the idea was too embedded in his mind now for him to stop. So, he slowly lifted a hand to your arm, gently shaking you awake.

"Mmmm..." you groaned quietly, the sound soft and angelic. It sent a wave of heat through him that he wasn't sure he could handle, but he was determined to see it through.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," He said a little louder, and you finally blinked your eyes open. They were a little cloudy as you looked around in a daze, your mouth slack as you yawned.

"Morning..." You mumbled, blinking as Harvey's shirt slid down your chest a bit more. It took you a moment to register Harvey hovering over you in the dimly lit room, but as soon as you did, you sat up and quickly pulled the shirt through your arms, wearing it like you were supposed to.

That’s when you noticed the small tray in his hands. He had a plate of eggs and toast, some coffee and orange juice, as well as a large bouquet of amaryllis.

"What’s all this?" You asked as you tried to compose yourself. Harvey sat down on the bed next to you, placing the tray between you.

"I made you breakfast." He said simply, smiling a little at you.

"Yeah... I can see that. But why?" You asked, looking between him and the tray. "It's not even 7 o'clock, and I'm sure you haven't even been awake that long..." You glanced at the coffee. "Or had enough coffee to be up before me."

Harvey chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, I figured since you’re big on that Christmas stuff, you deserved to have breakfast in bed, with flowers, just like the movies," he smiled and shrugged, "I thought it would be romantic, but if you don't think so... I’ll just..."

“No, no, I like it, I love it... Give it to me." You laughed a little, taking the tray from Harvey.

You picked up the flowers and brought them to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent. Harvey was always doing things like this for you, whether it be helping you with your writing or just spending a quiet night in with a book and some tea. You never felt more at home than when you were with Harvey, and he was always so kind and gentle to you, so it wasn't exactly surprising that he'd be a romantic at heart.

“Oh, Harvey, you shouldn't have..." you smiled at him as you set the flowers down, taking up your toast and a slice of egg.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to," he grinned a bit, "I like making you smile."

You chuckled a little, chewing on your food.

"That's good to hear," you said with your mouth full, "Because I like it when you do."

He gave you a soft smile, and your heart fluttered as he ran a hand through your hair. Soft, gentle fingers as he brushed your bangs aside.

"Good..." He whispered.

You placed your hand on top of his as he brought it down to your cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb as he leaned down to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him back. He pulled back to look at you, his brown eyes glowing as they stared into your own.

"Make sure to have a taste of that coffee while it's hot," he whispered as he rested his forehead on yours, "I made it just how you like it."

Your cheeks were rosy, and your heart was racing. You giggled a little and looked up at him through your lashes, opening your mouth to say something.

But he just shoved the coffee into your hand, taking your fork from you to cut up your eggs for you.

"And have some of this, too," he said as he cut up a piece of toast, "You’re going to need this after that…”

“After what?”

The question seemed so far off, but it was answered when you decided to finally take a sip of the coffee he made you.

You spat it out into the mug, coughing a little as it burned your throat. You wheezed as Harvey patted your back, laughing at you a little.

"What's wrong?!" He asked, sounding concerned, but you knew he wasn’t. He had that mischievous glint in his eye that meant he was up to no good.

You shoved the cup at him, scowling as he took it from your hands.

"I can't believe you..." you coughed, "I thought you were being serious."

Harvey's smile only grew as he sipped his coffee, humming to himself.

"Oh, I am," he said as he leaned down, kissing your cheek, "I think you’re just being a bit… salty."

You groaned in annoyance and tried to get up, but Harvey caught your arms in his hands, pinning you back down in place.

"Salt? Why would you—"

"Because you're always so sweet with your words... I thought it would be nice if you had a taste of what you put out… down there," he smirked, and you couldn't help but blush a bit.

"Harvey! That is so gross," you whined as you covered your face with your hands.

"Mm, yeah, but it's hot."

"Oh, my God..."

He laughed again as he pulled you close to him, and you sighed. You knew he wasn't going to let you leave the bed, so you just gave in to him, snuggling closer as you watched him take another sip of his coffee, the non-tainted one.

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and the scent of his cologne surrounded you, and you felt at ease with him. He always smelt so good.

Your eyes traveled down his torso, stopping at the bottom of his shirt. You traced the outline of his waistband with your eyes, wanting to move further down, but you stopped yourself.

"You know what, this is war.”

He grinned and sat back, leaning against the headboard.

"Is that so?" He asked, holding out your cup for you to take. "I hope you're prepared to lose, then."

You smacked it away, causing him to laugh at you again, but you held determination in your eyes. You took a moment to compose yourself before you crawled over him, placing a kiss on his lips.

"You underestimate me," you whispered against his mouth, "You haven't seen what I'm capable of..."

"Oh yeah?" he grinned, "Then I guess I should take you down now while I can."

He wrapped his arms around you as you kissed him again, parting your lips as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. You gasped softly when he pulled you closer; your bodies pressed together as you fell into the mattress, Harvey's body on top of you. The tray was long forgotten as he broke away from your mouth to kiss down your neck and chest, his hands running under the shirt he let you borrow.

You didn’t forget about the salt incident when that morning came to pass, though. The thought of revenge was engrained in the back of your mind that entire week, attempting to come up with the perfect plan—the perfect revenge. You had an idea, but you definitely needed help, so you called the two people who you knew would take every opportunity to ruin Harvey's life if they could...

And then the day came, the day just before Christmas Eve. Harvey, as usual, strolled into the firm, not a care in the world. At least, not until he came upon his office.

“What the hell is…? Donna? What is this?!" Harvey was standing in the doorway of his office, looking at his desk.

The once clean, neat desk was now covered in complete decorations, lights, tinsel, and a bright red bow on his computer. Not to mention how the desk was wrapped in several rolls of shiny, green gift wrap paper.

"A Christmas gift, obviously," Donna said, not even bothering to look up from her paperwork.

He walked inside, and that’s when he realized it wasn’t just his desk. It was everything. The walls were decorated with wrapping paper, some of the framed pictures on the wall had been taken out of their frames, placed into small red boxes and set on top of the filing cabinet. God, even his signed basketballs.

"Donna, what the hell is all this?!" He asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

"I told you. A Christmas gift." She replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Why?! When did you even—"

“Look at the ceiling; that’s my favorite part. The lights are so pretty!"

He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes wide. It wasn't just tinsel, lights, and wrapping paper.

It was Louis. Everywhere.

Louis’ face covered every inch of the ceiling. His mouth open in a smile with a Santa hat that was photoshopped on his head. It was the worst thing he could think of, and yet, somehow, it was the most impressive thing at the same time. It was a conundrum.

“That one was my idea.” Mike came in with his own grin on his face, taking a bite out of a donut, the red frosting dripping off the side as he held it in his hand.

"…You’re in on this? I can't believe you two..." Harvey dropped his bag to the floor, falling into his chair and just staring at the decorations.

"You do realize what this is, right?" Mike asked, looking up at the ceiling with humor in his eyes.

"This is me being punished,” Harvey sighed. He looked to the door, expecting you to pop out at any minute, but you never did.

Donna smirked a little and looked over at him, "It’s not over yet."

"I have a feeling I'm about to find that out," Harvey mumbled under his breath as she walked out.

"Merry Christmas, Harvey!" Donna called as she left his office, and he could only roll his eyes.

The day passed slowly, and Harvey couldn't take his eyes off Louis, who was smiling down on him all day, even if he was so far away. Every time he tried to do his paperwork, read, or work on a case, Louis' face was just there, staring at him. It was both horrifying and brilliant.

And yet, somehow, he kept going until it was just after 9. He was finishing up his work for the day, just as he normally would. He was almost done, in fact, but he heard the familiar click of Donna's heels coming up to his door. He didn't even have to look up at her to know she had you with her; he could practically hear the giggles.

"Come in," he sighed.

Donna opened the door, holding it open for you to walk in first, and then she shut it behind her, leaving you in the room alone with him.

You were wearing a long, black winter coat that was too large for your small frame, but it looked good on you nonetheless. Your hands were hidden in your pockets as you looked up at him, smiling and biting your lip.

"Merry Christmas, Harvey." You said sweetly, walking over to his desk.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too." He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, taking a look at the clock on his wall. It was also wrapped in your Christmas paper, but this one had snowflakes on it.

“How’d you get Jessica to allow this? She’s usually so strict on this stuff."

You laughed quietly and shrugged your shoulders.

"She liked it. She thought it was a good idea," you bit your lip a little, "It was pretty easy, actually."

"You mean you begged her until she agreed to do this to me?" He smirked.

"That's right. But it was worth it, wasn't it?" You smiled, reaching into your coat pocket. You pulled out a small box of wrapping paper with shiny green bows on it.

"What is that?" He asked, pointing at it.

"I don't know, but I bet it's pretty amazing," you grinned, placing it down on the desk in front of him. “Guess you have to open it and find out."

Harvey slowly leaned forward, taking the box in his hands. He had a feeling he knew what it was before he even unwrapped it, and he could only sigh.

Sure enough, it was exactly what he figured—a small bag of the finest Epstein salt, just for him.

"So, what'd you think?" You asked with a proud grin, and he smiled up at you.

"I think this is the most elaborate, disgusting, amazing thing I've ever seen in my life."

“Just wait til you see the apartment. It's a Christmas wonderland," you laughed as you watched Harvey’s face turn into complete horror.

That face of horror returned the second he unlocked the keys to his apartment. You had taken him there to show him what you did before your dinner reservations, and you knew what was coming.

He opened the door, and you weren't lying. You had decorated every inch of the apartment, using decorations he wouldn't have expected, but you were so thorough that it was like every room had its own theme.

The living room, kitchen, bathroom, and even his bedroom had its own theme of Christmas decorations, and Harvey's jaw nearly hit the floor. You were able to get Mike during the day when he went to see Rachel, and he did the ceilings and walls while you went around all the furniture.

It looked like you were on a Christmas vacation, in fact. There was so much to take in, so much to see, so Harvey walked around in shock, not even bothering to remove his coat or shoes before he did.

"Oh, my God," he whispered, "Oh, my God..."

"Yeah, I know," you giggled as he walked to the kitchen, taking a look in. "We ran out of Louis pictures, though, so it's not as perfect as I wanted it.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, smiling a little as you bit your lip, looking a little bashful.

"All this because of some salty coffee?"

"What can I say, Harvey?" You asked, walking up behind him. "I just can't let something like that go without retaliation."

He turned around to face you, and you had your arms already stretched out, ready to hug him, but he decided to chase you instead.

And once he had you, he wouldn't let you go. His arms were wrapped around you, your face pressed against his chest as he kissed the top of your head, holding you tight.

"I hate you," he whispered into your hair, and you looked up at him.

“I love you too.” You smiled sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Unbeknownst to him, though, you had one final surprise that would knock him off his feet.

That night, you were cuddled up in bed with a book, waiting for Harvey to get out of the shower. Once he did and headed towards his side of the bed, you sat up and smiled. The book went out of your hands in a heartbeat.

He wore nothing but a towel around his waist, and his hair was still damp as he went over to his drawer to pull out some pajamas. You watched him quietly, waiting patiently.

"Can you grab me the bottoms on your side of the drawer?" He asked, pulling out his top drawer. His face was quick to turn into a look of confusion as he opened it. "What the—"

You sat up and walked over to him, pressing your finger to his lips as you watched his eyes look down.

His top drawer that consisted his underwear was now completely covered in the Christmas spirit. Every single pair that was in there was wrapped in green, silver, and gold. And to top it all off, that was where all the remaining Louis pictures were hidden.

“You just got Litt up.” You said with a smirk.

His palm pressed against his face as he groaned into it. He was most definitely disappointed in you, but you knew deep down that he was more proud than anything.

"You're evil," he scoffed, turning and lowering his head to look at you, and that look told you everything you needed to know. "but damn are you good.”

"Told you I would win." You chuckled and leaned up, kissing his cheek. “Guess you’ll have to try your luck next year.”

Harvey might always win in the world of law, but in his heart, he knew you always would be the winner when it came to the two of you.

And that was a loss Harvey could live with.

461 notes · View notes

yikimiki · 1 year

Note

Can I please request;

King eren who's been lusting after his personal maid for the longest time. Smut when he has her clean every inch of him during a bath and tells her to clean his cock with her mouth.

I LOVE fantasy aus, this was heaven-sent. Note! Eren is older here, around his early 30s, and I imagined reader to be around early/mid 20’s (though age isn’t specified). Also this is LONG! I don’t know WC Bc I wrote on tumblr but i guess around 4-5K!! 🪦

>> of marble and gold

⚠️ warnings: smut, obvious power imbalance/abuse (so dub-con), dark content because Eren is… obsessive, heavy objectification/degradation of reader (“whore” and such), oral, creampie, bruising/marking

—

The brown leaves twirl to the ground as a new season begins, and King Eren’s patience — and self-control — has reached its limit. After almost fifty years of the Jaeger family negotiating with the neighboring kingdom, the new ruler broke tradition like it was nothing more than a frail wax seal. The message is clear: no more commercial settlements, no more food trade, until they returned with the treasure they had stolen nearly a century ago. Until the vaults are full, and his people are once again able to enjoy their own crops, friendly conversations are off the table.

Surprisingly, it works. After panic has subsided and a tense meeting is scheduled, the threat of an upcoming war is larger than the power of negotiation — with that, a new system is at play, and the table dips a little more towards Eren’s kingdom.

It’s one of the easiest years in a long, long time — plates are full, the people are happy, and the small economy is finally blossoming into something more substancial. Eren is constantly surrounded by all types of people who seek to impress him (or take his newly found riches), little annoying flies buzzing around him during the day, then trying to enter his chambers at night.

But Eren is difficult to impress. He’s a serious man with serious goals, and a short dress skit or an inviting deal isn’t enough to make him pay attention. However, amidst all that calamity, you manage to make him double take.

The influx of people to his lands came with the news of a fruitful economy, so it isn’t a surprise that he doesn’t immediately recognize you. There are countless new servants in the castle, some of which are constantly out of his sight, so your random appearance is, in a way, expected. And, yet, amongst so many faces, his gaze stills in yours.

Once again, Eren is a serious man with serious goals — and with even more serious needs and desires. The switch of your position (from a kitchen servant to his personal maid) is swift and direct, leaving no room for objection. It’s not typical for women to assist royal men in such personal affairs such as bathing or clothing — not officially, at least — so he expects that the change with cause a little fuss. But no one has the guts to go against him.

The first time you see King Eren, he is a giant in front of you, watching closely as you kneel in front of his throne. There are dark shadows over his face and his green eyes shine with amusement, long brown hair falling like a cascade over his features. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he tells you to stand, and countless scars on his hand as he holds yours and orders you to be at his chamber at nightfall, so you can help him bathe. You agree and leave hurriedly, heartbeat booming in your ears.

Eren is a handsome man, that much you knew. But what you didn’t know is how massive and overtaking his very presence is — well, you suppose that is expected of any monarch, but it’s different when you witness it yourself. He is the center of the galaxy and everyone else, yourself included, is simply gravitating around him, moving aimlessly through life until he, even if briefly, gives meaning to it. To have someone so great, so respected, to personally chose you amongst so many to serve him… is strange.

You’re not naive — the years being both a commoner and a woman have taught you more than most maids in the castle would’ve dreamt of living. You know what men want, especially powerful ones like Eren, and you know your position is extremely delicate. Even if, now, you don’t wish to deny any of his advances, you know that the mere possibility would mean death to you. So you accept, even knowing you’re placing a noose around your neck. Even knowing you’re only getting out of this if he loses interest or, somberly, dead.

The first night you spend in Eren’s chambers you know that the first option is nearly impossible. He looks at you like you’re a mythical being, the finest piece of art, watching your movements closely as you help him bathe — your hands moving up and down on the water, keeping the circle of wetting the rag, cleaning his skin, and wetting it again. You’re strictly professional, never staring at his body, especially the parts beneath the water. From your peripheral vision, you see his defined muscles and deep battle scars, but don’t dare to look at it directly.

“Where did you come from?” He asks eventually, scaring you and making you drop the piece of soap in your hands. Eren’s voice is deep and commanding even in such intimate situation, and you feel yourself shrinking. “You’re not from here.”

The second part isn’t a question. “I came from the East, my king.”

Eren isn’t satisfied by your answer. “Why did you come?”

“My family’s farm was burnt down and I needed to work, my king,” you tell him, placing the dirty rag aside as you move to reach for the soap. Thankfully there is a layer of bubbles on the water now, and there is nothing else to see. “So I came here.”

He hums, laying back against the cool material. “Look at your king,” he orders. You blink, overwhelmed, and do as he says. His eyes are looking directly at your soul, one wet strand of hair glued to his forehead, and you squeeze the bar of soap so tightly that your nails dig to the surface. “Better. What is your name?”

You tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. You gulp and sit back against your heels, watching as his hand moves closer to you, pushing your hair behind your ear. Shadows and candlelight reflects on his face like a dream. “It’s quite obvious you’re a foreigner. We don’t have women as beautiful as you.”

“T-Thank you, my king.” You look down. Your heart hammers like a caged bird against your ribcage, your lungs fight against expectation. His touch lingers. “I believe your bath is finished, your highness, do you wish for me to help you into—“

“Finished?” He raises one eyebrow, and you feel the noose around your neck tighten. “It is not. You forgot a place.”

You lower your head. “My deepest apologies, your highness.”

He hums, then startles you as he abruptly rises from the water. You use all your force not to look up at him. “Come. Dry me.”

You blink. “My king, what about…”

“Don’t argue, sweet girl. Your king commands you,” Eren says. There is poison dripping from his lips and you nod, getting up to your feet. “Dry me.”

You swallow. “Yes, my king.”

The pace in which you dry Eren’s body is torturous, your gaze glued to your own hands as you move the dry towel over his skin. First his face and hair, where he stares at you intently, then moving down to his chest, his arms.

Eren himself is enthralled, unable to cut his thoughts of you. Up close, you’re flawless, divine. Every movement you make is perfect, even the way you bite your lip and blink at him makes him dizzy with desire. He has never seen someone as beautiful as you, a young maiden with plump breasts and a delicate face; someone who listens to him so closely yet keeps their distance, respectful and fearful of their king — as all should be. He must have you. More than this, more than as a worker, he must have you, body and soul.

Your body arches as you move closer to his abdomen, touches becoming clearly more clumsy as your hands approach his private parts. The mere anticipation of having you so close makes Eren’s cock grow, thick and heavy, until it’s almost fully erect and you pause, startled.

“There, love. That’s where you missed a spot,” Eren says. You gulp and look up at him, wide eyes searching for something in his expression. He signals towards his erection with a movement of his head. “Clean it.”

“M-My king,” you speak, nervous. “Do you wish me to… clean you? There?”

He nods. “With your mouth. Be a good girl and clean it all up.,” he says. You lick your lips and look down at his large member �� you knew it would come down to this and, yet, you are taken off guard. You didn’t think it would be this way. “And it’s Eren. These titles are making me mad with rage.”

You kneel in front of him — Eren realizes he is quite fond of that position. “Yes, my- Eren.”

Your hand seems so small against his cock, now fully erect, barely taking him halfway before your lips touch his crown. Eren is both long and thick, throbbing in your hand as you suck on his head, humming around him before daring to go a little deeper. The size makes you choke up slightly, but you prevail. You want to pleasure your king, and if this is the way, so be it.

“Don’t be afraid to put it all inside, love.” He sighs. You do as you’re told, fighting against the tears as you push more of his size inside your mouth. It touches your throat and you gag, but you don’t stop. When Eren starts to moan, a deep groan in his throat, you start to set a rhythm. “There it is, there’s my obedient whore. Just as perfect as I had imagined.”

There’s wetness building between your thighs at his filthy words, a growing desire inside you as you look up at him. Eren is a god above you, made of marble and gold, looking down at you like you’re nothing but a hole for him to use. The defined muscles of his abdomen are contracting as you suck him harder, his eyes focused on your stretched-out lips as you struggle to take him.

“Fuck… what a perfect little mouth you have,” he breathes out. You close your eyes and take him even deeper, making a string of curses and threats fall from his mouth. His large hand meets the back of your head and pulls a handful of your hair, moving your face as he likes on his cock. “Good fucking whore,” Eren moans. “My fucking whore from now on. No one will fuck you. Only me.” You gag around his cock, but he doesn’t stop. Eren fucks your mouth until you’re sobbing, until he’s about to spill inside it — and then he pushes your head away. “Get on the fucking bed. I’m going to make you mine forever.”

You’re so overwhelmed that you barely process the walk between his bathroom and the large bed — in fact, you don’t even have time to think about how that is the single largest piece of furniture you’ve ever seen before you’re thrown on the bouncy mattress. One second you’re standing next to your king, and the next Eren is looming over you, kissing you like you’re the air that he breathes, like your mouth is made of honey. His hands are all over your body, literally tearing and ripping your dress in a desperate, animalistic attempt to get you undressed.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles before he latches onto one of your breasts, sucking as his hand squeezes the other one. You’re fully naked now, lying in a bed of rags — rags that used to be your dress.

Eren marks you up with his hickeys, spanks the skin of your thighs until it’s bruised and you’re whining for him to stop. You sob and cry, but he shuts you up with another kiss just so he can tear those pretty sounds from you again.

“M-My king, please,” you beg. The wetness between your legs is embarrassing, and your body is all marked up by the time Eren is done with exploring it. He is lost in the mission of making — of marking — you his, barely even hears what you say. “I need…”

Then something clicks. He holds your face in his hand and pushes it closer to his, squeezing your cheeks together. There is fire burning at the bottom of his eyes, and you know you’ve said something wrong. “You don’t need anything, you don’t request anything. Understand? I’m your king, and you’re my whore. Act like it.”

You swallow — your throat hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

Eren is a serious man and a man of his word. You can’t even think about what to say to redeem yourself before he starts pushing his cock against your pussy, rubbing the tip against your folds once, twice, before slamming himself deep inside you. You sob at the feeling, walls fighting to adjust to his size, but he doesn’t even let the burning sensation subside before he starts fucking you.

“What is it? Did you not need this?” He coos. You half-nod half-shake your head, not even sure of it yourself. Eren sneers at your pathetic situation — all teary eyes and messy hair, holding onto his arms as he drills his cock in and out of your tight hole. And, yet, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly thing he has ever seen. “Your pussy feels so fucking… so fucking good.” He moans. “I’m going to fill it up every night. Get you all full with cock and cum every chance I get.”

Your eyes roll back at his words, as promise feels like a dream. You’d like that — after so many years of struggle and hard work, you would love to be a brainless little hole for your king to use and abuse whenever he wishes. You’d love to be dressed in the finest of silk and kissed with fervor, be treated like royalty, even if it isn’t true. You would love it with all your heart.

“Look at me when I fuck you, whore. Look at your king,” Eren brings you back to reality. You do as he says, meeting the savage look in his eyes as he fucks you harder, deeper, hitting all the sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “Who do you belong to?” He asks, frowning. “Tell me.”

“Eren— I belong to you, Eren, my king,” you answer without hesitation. Your cunt squeezes him tightly as you cum hard, moaning loud and unashamed. You’d regret it in the morning but now… now you’re made of gold and marble too.

“You’re your king’s. Remember that,” he says. You nod, barely aware of the world around you as you dive deeper into pleasure. “Going to cum,” Eren strains. Forget that — now he looks like a god. Muscles tensing and jaw clenching as he uses your body however he pleases, plunging his cock inside you again and again until your wet pussy milks him dry; cock throbbing as he cums inside you. “Fuck, fuck,” he moans, hips faltering as his cock releases inside you again and again. “God, that’s so much fucking cum.”

A whine escapes your mouth as you feel it soak the sheets beneath you, but you say nothing. You dive into the moment like it’s your last one on earth: a moment in which you’re monarchy, loved and fucked into bliss, not a care in the world but the feeling dripping between your thighs. Though, the illusion never lasts long — you watch as Eren finishes and then rolls around next to you, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

Even after everything, it feels wrong. Like you shouldn’t be here. “M-My king,” you speak after a second of silence, “should I go?”

He turns to you, somber as always. You can’t decipher his tone as he answers. “Not yet,” Eren speaks. “Only when the sun comes up. If I’m done with you by then.”

#aot smut #eren smut #attack on titan smut #eren x reader #eren x you #snk smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you #king eren #eren fic

1K notes · View notes