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ggidolsmuts · 4 months

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What Would Zeus Do (WWZD) - ARTMS

A/N: So I wrote this on a whim, kinda wanted to do another Stud(y)ing story for the start of the year, just so you know what to expect. I couldn't help but keep thinking about the whole Artemis and Zeus thing, it fit too well, and WWZD is too funny in my head. The Seasons Greetings images coming out was very fortunate timing, It also fits in the I Never Die, I Only Breed theme, consider this as "DLC" for that game.

You wake up in a room—there is a door, there is a mirror, you're in the bed. Wait, you finished the game, didn't you? You wake up and go to the mirror, only to see the words "NEW DLC" pop up. Best of all, it's free! You accept the DLC and it loads immediately, and everything changes.

You're in a room, except there is no floor, no walls, only clouds all around you. You can walk on air? You look around, only to see a much more gaudy and decadent bed, not unlike Minnie's throne bed from before, and a bejeweled mirror, encrusted with diamonds and sapphires and emeralds. It even has a name—Erised. On intuition you stand in front of the mirror, and golden words float to the surface.

Thank you for playing the game, and as our thanks, please enjoy this sandbox DLC. You play as Zeus, everything is in your godly power. Go forth and procreate!

There is a list of names, but not any of the common names you recognize in Greek mythology. It just says:

*Joseon Goddesses*

Jinsoul

Haseul

Kim Lip

Heejin

Choerry

Some odd names to be sure, you were expecting something closer to Hera or Aphrodite, but Zeus doesn't discriminate, and neither will you. You tap on the first name, and the Mirror of Erised becomes a door. You step through to find the first goddess.

"Hello, you must be Zeus?"

"Yes, you are Jinsoul?"

"Yes, shall we?" She unclasps her dress, and it falls off her body, revealing her divine figure.

"Yes, we shall." She removes your toga, and your chiseled body presses against her suppleness. You lean in and suckle on her bosom, and she cups herself, offering more of her teat to you. You tilt her backwards, and as you do clouds form behind Jinsoul, cushioning the tilt. You split her open, and the gorgeous goddess gasps and grinds, a leg hooked around your hip.

"Yes, lord yes!" Her black hair splayed against the clouds, you take her repeatedly, bringing her to climax as she shuts her eyes tightly. She walls grip you even tighter, and with a grunt you unload inside of her. You pull out, still hard of course, but you assume your job is done until she sighs and half puts on her dress again.

"That's it? I didn't know Zeus was wont to leave a lady unbred."

"What? Of course not, you will be with child."

"Oh no, I know my own body the best. And I'm only fertile, godfucked or not, when it's raining." Your seed still no doubt trailing down her thighs Jinsoul walks towards you, expectant, expecting to be expecting soon.

"You were waiting to tell me that weren't you? So you could have more than one round with me?"

"What's the harm in that, we both know how this ends." The edge of her lip curls up as you summon some heavier clouds.

"What would you prefer, a summer shower, a gloomy thunderstorm, or a misty monsoon?"

"I think a summer shower would be nice." With a wave of your hand the sun comes back into view, an appropriate amount of rainfall splattering both of you. The dress starts to cling to her, seeming to enhance her curves even more, arguably even more enticing than seeing her naked. Her nipples seem to stiffen as her dress gets more and more translucent. You grab the top of her dress and pull, ripping and peeling the front off like wet paper. She might have been outraged at the dress' distruction, but you don't give her a chance to complain.

"Shall we?" Jinsoul merely has time to nod as you thrust yourself into her once more. She is much more expressive and sensitive to your movements this time, her walls velvet and creamy, primed for fertility. Jinsoul sings in the rain, moaning melodically and huskily while you drive yourself ever deeper. Shreds of her dress start falling off, and Jinsoul gradually loses the shreds of coherence she had left.

"Oh yes! That's it, give it to me, I'm yours, I'm yours!" Every pump of your hips pushes Jinsoul to a tingling, toe-curling, throat-wrenching orgasm, the rainfall acting as an aphrodisiac for her. The cloud she's lying on has reclined, and now you're pounding her from above, like mere mortals mating. But the two of you are gods and goddesses, and each clash of your hips is as loud as a thunderclap, and every orgasm she reaches as thrilling and electric as lightning. The two of you go from singing to fucking to breeding in the rain. Every time Jinsoul peaks her walls grasps you heavenly, a soft velvet tug on your shaft—you respond in kind, with a warm surge of seed. Despite the warm shower overhead, your coupling is more akin to a hurricane—wild, wet, and destructive. With limitless stamina and inhuman abundance, you pump her with a womb's worth of cum every thrust, but with the high speed of fucking, with the rapid push and pull of your hips, all it does is leave your connection a complete mess of cum and juice, pooling between her legs, smearing it all over her now-creamy thighs.

"Bred?" Jinsoul can only nod, breathless, vocal cords rough and strained, the skin around her hips now pink and red from your fucking. By the time you pull out, there is more of your cum outside of her than inside, yet not once did you finish outside of her heaven-sent chambers. She barely notices you pulling out, that's how full she is with your seed. Thick white fluid continues to spill from between her lips, it is a wonder how she could hold that much, or how you could put that much into her.

"I will be with your child now, so you'll be my consort right?"

"You know that's not how Zeus works."

"Really? Aww, not even for your goddess Jinsoulie?" You wince at the sudden cuteness, not used to goddesses behaving like that, but you agree.

"Fine, I will be back."

You go down the list, stepping immediately into Haseul's domain.

"Hello Haseul." The goddess that greets you is more dimunitive in size, but curvier, her hips ripe for childbearing.

"Hello." She agrees with your silent assessment, removing her tight dress and moving towards you. "May I taste?" This time it is your turn to be taken at speed as her mouth engulfs your length, perfectly sized to hit the back of her throat.

"Mmm Jinsoul, delicious." Haseul murmurs, guiding you to a seated position before diving back in.

"You know the taste of another goddess?"

"We make do when someone such as yourself is not available."

"That is something I should, nngh, be sure to remedy," you groan as she licks all along your shaft, replacing Jinsoul's slick with her saliva. She uses her hands to stroke you, yet you do not give her what she wants.

"Will you not give me your seed?"

"It is not meant to travel this path."

"Yet I wish to go the path untraveled."

"It will require more work."

"I understand," Haseul pushes her breasts together, and with her soft globes around your cock and a warm mouth around your head, you allow yourself to be milked, fucking her tits and mouth simultaneously.

"Does this— Ah! Please you?" You catch her by surprise as she briefly stops to ask a question, and you splatter her face with a load.

"Now it does." Haseul smiles and gets back to work, and just as with Jinsoul, you allow yourself to cum freely, slowly filling her tummy with an unstopping stream of seed—milk from the work of her breasts. When she is finished getting a fill of you, Haseul has a cumbaby in her tummy, and she is ready and eager for a real baby.

"I am ready."

"Good, I am still ready." Haseul gets up and straddles you, and with a loud moan she sinks on your cock, only to stop two-thirds of the way in—how did she manage to fit you in her mouth?

"Y-You are huge!" she whines, trying, and failing to fit more of you into her.

"Your lower mouth is not as practiced as your upper one, I will help you." You grab Haseul by the waist and start moving her up and down your cock. She bites her lower lip and hisses in discomforting pleasure as you manipulate her on your shaft, and with a few kisses and some slower fucking, she relaxes and begins to enjoy the sheer stretch of her body around you. "There you go, feel good?"

"Yeah, yes, much better."

"It'll feel even better when you open up. Now cum for me Haseul." With your firm finger on her clit she cums willingly, and through the process of her walls undulating around you, you're able to push just that little deeper into her. And then you ask her to cum again, and again she does—each time she does so you get deeper into her, and each orgasm in turn becomes even stronger than the last, her pussy clenching around more and more of your cock.

"It keeps feeling even better! Ah! It feels amazing, like—oh my god, something's coming, something's coming!" Haseul squirms on top of you, the feeling in her abdomen growing to the boiling—no, exploding—point.

"Just let go." With one arm wrapped around her slim midriff you pull her down sharply, and with the other you apply a little pressure on her clit. Haseul jerks, screams, and then gushes all over your cock. Her slick splashes up your body, and mid-orgasm you're able to draw Haseul even further down on you, your head nudging the entrance to her womb. You watch her eyes roll, and her head lolls back as she succumbs to a double orgasm, spraying your stomach with even more juice and creaming over your shaft. She goes limp almost falling off your shaft, and you have to support her, holding her close as she shudders and comes back from her higher plane of pleasure.

"Y-You didn't, you haven't?" Haseul gasps, unable to piece together a coherent sentence quite yet.

"Not yet, I wanted to make sure you feel it." When you feel her fingers grip the back of your neck more firmly you begin pulling her up and down your cock, making Haseul the Goddess of Cocksleeves as you sheath yourself fully inside her each time. "You feel that?" you ask, grinding your head against her cervix and making her whine at the friction. "That feeling means you've taken me fully."

"It's hitting me really deep, it feels so different, but good?"

"I'm glad it does, we should celebrate your accomplishment." Haseul crosses her feet behind your back, and together the two of you saw her tight body up and down your shaft. Tugging on your neck, Haseul leans back, tensing her core, giving both of you a perfect view of her body rocking back and forth. "Look down, you look beautiful like this."

Haseul opens her eyes dreamily (When did she even close them? She no longer remembers and it doesn't matter), and what she sees almost drives her to an orgasm immediately—there's a visible imprint between her legs, changing in size as you continue to bring her down on you. She can see exactly where her pussy ends, the round end of your shaft bulging deep inside her, followed by that tingling sensation that makes her gasp and moan. Seeing herself get fucked in such a visceral fashion spikes her arousal, and she tightens around you.

"Finish in me!" Haseul pleads, her eyes trained at your connection, watching herself get literally stretched each time you shove yourself in her. "I want to see you cum, I want to watch you breed me!" She watches her mound bulge once more, and this time it doesn't go away as you hold her down and explode. Haseul watches herself get bred for a brief second, before the warm explosion inside makes her eyes roll into her head again. She whimpers and tightens around you in her own orgasm, and the two of you ride out your peaks as she accepts all of your load into her fertile body.

When she opens her eyes again the bulge has disappeared, a sense of emptiness between her legs as you gently pull her off you. It would become a hunger newly awakened, and Haseul is at your side even as you seek to move on.

"You'll be back, yes?"

"Of course. I would just like to meet the other goddesses first."

"Kim Lip?"

"Yes, that is me." A pale-skinned goddess awaits you, her hair similarly light-colored, unlike the goddesses before her. Yet it seems to shimmer, almost fluid in nature. She seemed delicate, yet as you wrapped an arm around her, playing with the strap of her dress, you could feel the strength and steel within her.

"May I have you?" you ask. She was a goddess to be charmed, not taken.

"Oh? You're not going to grab me and bounce me all over your lap, like you did with Haseul?"

"Only if you want me to."

"I do not."

"So I figured," you murmur into her ear, hoping to get her a little hot and bothered. "I ask again, may I have you?"

"Maybe, but now's not a good time of the month for me."

"Oh, are you on your—" Kim Lip tisks you and pushes your head with a finger.

"No silly, I'm a goddess, not mortal. Jinsoul is one of my sisters, we can be a bit... odd."

"Odd?"

"Yes. Her desires and fertility spike only when it rains. I am not dissimilar."

"I made it rain for her, I can command whatever weather you wish."

"Ah, I am not that straightforward. My desires wax and wane, much like the moon, so come back and ask me that when the moon phases are most favorable."

"You will have me move the moon and the stars for you?" Kim Lip laughs airily, the childish giggle almost ill-fitting her beauty.

"Oh I doubt you capable of that, I will have you wait for the stars to align."

"I am impatient." You raise a hand to the heavens, and with some focus, you alter the orbit of the moon. It has a tangible effect on Kim Lip, a light pink hue spreading across her face. Her hair turns even lighter, as if reflecting the brightness of the moon.

"W-What did you do?" she stammers, feeling the heat go through her body as the full moon bares itself in the night sky.

"I am impatient and I am capable, so I have moved the moon and the stars for you." You push the straps off her shoulders, and Kim Lip doesn't resist you as the dress slips to her waist. The flush spreads to the rest of her chest, tipped pink on her breasts. "I wish to have you."

"You are reckless, moving the moon like that will have consequences! The tides, they will shift, the mortals—"

"I care not for mortals, I want you." You capture her lips in a kiss, one that's not urgent, but just fervent enough to leave her wanting. Your hands explore her body, touching what you could of her. She grabs your arm, but doesn't stop you, merely holding you within reach.

"Make it a new moon, and you will have me."

"So be it." You raise a hand to the moon once more, and you watch it pass through the phases quickly before going dark, invisble in the night sky. When you look down at Kim Lip again, her hair has turned jet black, and her eyes are dark with need. The pink flush on her pale complexion has turned a darker crimson, and her lips are ruby red—this time she leans towards you, capturing your lips in her kiss.

"I'm yours."

You rip her dress off, and immediately she has a leg hooked around your hip. Her slick comes in waves as you rub your shaft againt her core, teasing her just that little bit more. You want Kim Lip to want it, and you are delighted when she reaches down between your bodies, pushing your shaft to oh-so-satisfyingly enter her on the next rock of your hips. You pause briefly as her eyes screw shut, but they quickly open again, her pupils dark as the new moon.

"Keep going, don't stop." You fuck her thoroughly—a needy Kim Lip is an ambitious lover, and her positions shift just as the tides do. One moment you are humping into her with short thrusts, the next she has you on your back, bouncing on your lap as she desires, your hands merely holding her thighs for support. Then she has you top her, her leg on your shoulder as you make her do a split, even as you split her open. Just as with Jinsoul you are cumming freely with Kim Lip, the two of you extracting pleasure from one another, her body readily accepting your load, only to have it spill out of her with a change in position.

"Am I fit to bear your offspring?" she asks, almost challenging you as you pound down into her.

"That was never in question."

"Then take me under an eclipse, when the light and dark intermix, just as we do now, that will be most desirable."

"You ask a lot of me," you grunt as Kim Lip pushes herself into a sitting position, staring down at you like the moon shines over Earth.

"And I'll give a lot more to you." Looking past her at the moon, you try to ignore her wet sheath around you as you move sun and moon for her, and for a moment the galaxy revolves around Earth as you align everything for her. Kim Lip looks up at the resulting eclipse, and when she turns to look at you again she is glowing, her hair now a dark brown, mixed with streaks of light.

"It is beautiful, thank you."

"No more than you are."

"I want to see it as we continue." Kim Lip gets off you, going on all fours. Her intent clear, you take her from behind, pulling on her long hair so that her head tilts to the heavens. "Yes, just like that! Keep going like that!" Waves of force ripple from her thighs as you slam your hips into hers—no doubt you have wrecked the world with your callous movement of the universe, but all you care about right now is wrecking Kim Lip's world. Her body twitches as she cums, and the eclipse goes blurry when the pleasure becomes too great, when a small supernova bursts forth in her womb, breeding new life inside of her.

"You may also look at it like this." You release her hair and grab her arms, using them as reins as you continue to pound her from behind, leaving another splatter of seed in her.

"I am sore," she gasps, so you accomodate her wishes and lie on your back, pulling her on top of you. You thrust up into her from below, her breasts rocking in the eclipse's moonlight and her thighs glistening from the same light source. It is a lewd position, but just as the werewolf turns beastial under the moon, Kim Lip's cries become more ungodly beneath the celestial phenonmenon. She turns away from the eclipse to find her new obsession, her new object of desire—you.

"It's so good like this, never stop, never stop!" Her voice cracks as you burst in her once more. "Yes, breed me, breed me every cycle, I'll bear all your little offspring!" With triggered instincts you roll out from under Kim Lip, only to take her from above, to hug her and pound down into her the way she desires.

Kim Lip's glassy eyes continue to look up at the eclipse, her ears fed a constant stream of your whispers, happy ones of the offspring she will bear, filthy ones of how else you would take her, interjected with spikes of orgasmic ecstasy, of your seed filling her womb over and over. With one last sharp thrust you break the hug, eclipsing the eclipse, leaning down to kiss her passionately as you claim her one last time. Kim Lip trembles as her orgasm washes over her like a huge tide, your thick seed surging into her with finality.

There is a calm after the storm as she cuddles against you, stroking your chest like a satiated lover.

"You have to go to the other goddesses?" she asks, notable disappointment in her voice.

"Yes, but I will be back."

"Look up at the night sky, and remember to think of me."

"Of course."

You move on to the next goddess, and time seems to reverse when you see Heejin.

"You are dressed oddly, Heejin, I assume?" She's dressed in a very distinct fashion, her garment different from what you saw earlier.

"네, 전 희진인데? 넌 제우스이지?"

You don't understand her question, so you merely nod.

"나랑 교배하로 왔구나!"

You still don't understand her, but it probably didn't matter as she proceeds to discard her clothing before getting on all fours, much like Kim Lip did.

"아까 봤어, 난 이자세가 좋아!" She smacks her own butt for emphasis. It is all a bit weird, and you're wrongfooted by not understanding her at all, but you do as she desires and take her from behind. You thrust into her wildly, but it seems to have little effect on her, and she merely stays in place, accepting your thrusts with no reaction. Before long you cum inside her, but all that does is to worsen her mood, and she turns to glare at you.

"아씨, 이런 줄알고,리듬있게해!"

"Algorithm? What are you saying, I don't understand you at all." Heejin blinks rapidly before continuing.

"Oh, you don't speak my language?"

"I do not."

"My apologies, I was saying, you should do it with rhythm. I did not feel anything because there was nothing to build on." You still yourself and follow her instruction, pushing into her with a leisurely tempo, but Heejin is not satisfied.

"No! You're half a second off between thrusts!"

"What is this, a video game? You need me to be that precise? Why don't you show me how you want it then!"

Annoyed as you were, it wasn't a bad deal, and you get to watch Heejin's fine legs, hips, and ass push back on to you.

"You see? Like this! 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3!" You keep her count in your head, and soon you are able to match Heejin's movements, thrusting forward as she pushes herself back on to you. Soon she's softly moaning, and you have to resist the urge to go faster while she gets wetter and easier to penetrate.

"Can I go faster?"

"What why? This is good for me!" She punctuates this with a louder moan, and one of her legs kick up and shake as she cums without warning. "See?"

"But it doesn't do anything for me."

"That's not my problem, you're the one that came to me. So I set the terms, and I'm not letting you go now." Turns out, Heejin has just as much strength as Kim Lip, and she easily seats herself above you. "Let me have my fun first, and then you can go ahead and breed me, okay?"

Well, at least I don't have to move planets for her, you think to yourself, and you shrug and nod. Heejin begins to rock herself back and forth on your cock—she is tight and wet and pleasurable, but the speed she moves at does absolutely nothing for you. Everything about her helps visually—Heejin running her hands through her hair as she smiles and cums on top of you; Heejin grabbing her own tits, squeezing them hard when she cums on you again; Heejin biting her lower lip and winking at you when she cums a third time; but the lack of speed just means that Heejin leaves you with the bluest case of blue balls a god has ever experienced. She's not even edging you—you'd have to get close to orgasm for her to be edging you.

"Damnit Heejin, let me take my pleasure!"

"Just a couple more." She spreads her legs, rubbing her clit brazenly for you as she gets herself off. And just when you thought she is done Heejin turns around to ride you in reverse now, and all you can see is her back muscles twitching and feeling her pussy grip you when she cums. The only reason you're not going soft is because you're too hard to go soft right now, your balls feeling like the planets you just moved for Kim Lip. You grunt when Heejin falls back against you, and thankfully she whispers tiredly in your ear.

"Okay, I had my fun, you can have yours now."

"Yeah? I can go fast, without rhythm?"

"Yes I'm— ah!" Heejin moans when you push up into her to test the waters. "I'm sensitive enough that I'll have fun too, just treat that as me warming up."

"That was warmup? All of that?"

"Would you rather I fake my orgasm while you just hammer away at me?"

"And here I thought Jinsoul and Kim Lip were the odd ones..." Heejin giggles as she gets off you, allowing you to direct her back on to all fours.

"They are, I'm just the weird one, and the stubborn one. You may be a god, but I'm the goddess, so if you want me, you do things my way or not at all. And you did do things my way, so now you get to get your way too." She wiggles her hips at you, two manicured fingers spreading open her lips.

"Come on then, daddy." A deep moan rumbles through her when you push in, and you finally get to fuck Heejin the way you want.

"Oh yes, pump away with no rhythm, you could never play OSU, or Superstar Loona as well as I can with rhythm like that! But it's okay, you'll be daddy for me right? Or since you're a god, does that make you god-daddy?"

"I kept quiet while you had your fun, you should shut up while I take mine." You put a hand around Heejin's throat, firmly choking the quips out of her. That seems to only help her along though, as her pussy contracts around you with the same rhythm that you choke her with, the petulant goddess seizing up in pleasure. You smash yourself into her repeatedly without a care, and you let yourself go in short order.

There is no Noah in Heejin's body, but even if there was, no ark would have saved her eggs from your thick cum flooding her womb, entering her in a flood of epic proportions, your wrath unleashed ecstatically into her fertile chalice. You grab her hair and tug at her scalp, and a low rasp escapes her as Heejin takes her final breath for a while. Another thrust into her, and you dunk her head down into the clouds, muffling her cry while you let another wave of cum rip through her.

And another, and another. You take your pleasure just like Heejin took hers. By the end of it she is sprawled on her back, coughing and hacking while you pull out and feed the last of your load down her throat. She leaks cum from both holes, properly disciplined and bred.

"Ack, ugh, come back, I'm not done with you yet!" Heejin shouts hoarsely as you walk away.

"Later, keep yourself entertained!" Heejin wipes your load off her face, only to put her cum-covered fingers back between her legs. Her sense of rhythm is completely wrecked as she cums easily from a few pumps of her own hand—she would be easily entertained until you come back.

"Hey!" You're immediately tackled by the next goddess as she swings her arms around your neck. "Hi hi hi!"

"Choerry?"

"Yes, hiiiii!" She smiles brightly at you. "Are you here to have fun?" Choerry sits in your lap, and she's kissing you eagerly, full of enthusiasm. You respond to the kiss, running a hand up her thighs. She hits your hand, bursting into giggles. "Omo, what are you here to do hmm?"

"I am... here to, you know, mmph—" Choerry hushes you with a hand to your mouth.

"If you want to do that, you'll have to do what I say, okay? Don't worry, I won't be like Heejin, leaving you to explode! You'll get to have fun too." So she's not as innocent as she seems to be.

"Sure, I'll play along."

"Good. Now, answer me this one question. Am I sexy?" She pouts and puts a finger to her lips, a cute expression on her face. You sense that it is a rhetorical question.

"You are."

"Who is?" She slips the cardigan off her shoulders.

"Choerry is."

"She is what?" Woops, her finger just slid a strap off her dress.

"Sexy."

"Good, now put it all together." She twirls the remaining strap around her finger.

"Choerry is sexy." The strap comes off, but she has an arm across her top, keeping you at bay even as your hands run along her shoulders and neck.

"Where am I sexy?"

"Everywhere." You pull her arm away, and the dress slides down partially, revealing her chest to you. Before you can dive in she places a hand on your forehead, pushing you back.

"Ah ah ah, you've only earned this peek."

"You said you wouldn't be like Heejin," you whine, almost as childish as the game Choerry's playing.

"I want you to be more exact, what part of me is sexy?" She puckers her lips, blowing a kiss at you.

"Your lips?"

"Omo really? I never thought you would say that!"

"What—" With a silky move Choerry gets off your lap and positions herself at hip-level to you.

"You should fuck it then, show me that you really do find it sexy." She helps you get over the surprise request, pushing her mouth over your cock. Choerry is true to her word, and quickly you blow a load down her throat, and she makes sure to pull out mid-spurt, ensuring that her lips have some of your frosting on them.

"Your face is sexy too."

"Really? Aww you're too kind!" She sucks you off again, this time making sure that you're aimed all over her pretty and sexy features. When you're done she quickly wipes the cum off her face before getting back in your lap, this time deliberately letting her dress hang off her waist.

"Where else do you find me sexy?"

"Your chest is sexy too."

"Really? Would you like me to squeeze them together like this?" She pushes them together, purposely and naughtily making an up and down motion with them—Choerry is anything but innocent.

"Mmhmm, yes, very sexy Choerry." She breaks out into a wide smile again and sinks back to her knees, this time trapping your shaft between her breasts. The soft squish and smooth skin of her moving globes are wonderful, and you cover her tits with cum as well.

"My hands are sexy too right?" You agree, and Choerry has the perfect lotion on her hands soon after, and she rubs it all along her arms. You are happy to play along with her as she pulls her dress up her legs.

"What about my feet?"

"They're pretty."

"Are they sexy?" She cups them together, the space between her soles perfect for sliding something, or some cock, through it.

"I suppose so." Choerry leans back and begins stroking your cock with her foot, and between her legs you can see her want glistening and shining through—you're going to have lots of fun with her. After covering her feet with more lotion, you comment on her thighs, and all pretense goes out the window. Choerry finally slides her dress off, showing off her creamy thighs and curvy hips as she clambers on top of you. Much like before she squeezes your cock between her thighs, and with a nod from her she allows you to start thrusting. You confirm just how wet she is as your shaft slides right against her lips, her slick coating your cock and making a mess of her thighs.

"You love this don't you?" you ask Choerry, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted, much like her lower lips below.

"I love it, I love feeling sexy. Make me feel sexier than Jinsoul and Kim Lip and I'm yours." She is equally as odd as her sisters, her eyes open once more, smiling brightly even as her darker desires are stoked and burning and dripping all over you—the goddess is innocently seductive. You grope her ass, squeezing a cheek and a giggle from Choerry. Her thighs close more around you, her legs twisting to give your cock maximum friction. She begs you to tell her more about how sexy she is, and you oblige her.

"So seductive Choerry, by now I would have plowed any of the other goddesses but I'm letting you make me wait. I can feel how wet you are, it makes you even sexier." You keep a tight grip on her ass, continuing to thrust up between her thighs. She whispers for more, and you give her more thrusts and more dirty whispers. "Everything about you is sexy, both outside and inside."

"You haven't mmm... you don't know about inside yet."

"I have no doubt you will be. I bet you're sexy when you cum too right? Cum for me Choerry!" Between the rubbing of your shaft against her and your filthy praise Choerry nips your neck to muffle a loud cry as she cums on your command, coating your shaft with even more slick. You grunt into her neck and join her in climax, spewing your load all over the insides and back of her thighs.

"That was great! Am I sexy elsewhere too?" Ever energetic, Choerry is eager to keep going.

"I heard your back is sexy too." She scrambles to get on all fours, and sexily she draws her hair over one shoulder, revealing her flawless back to you. "Perfect, your butt looks so sexy too." You rest your cock between her cheeks.

"You can do my ass, do it like you did my thighs." She squishes and spreads her cheeks, enticing you to do just that. Your hardness rubs against her rosebud as you start hot dogging Choerry while she touches herself. When she cums and some of her slick splashes on your balls, you grunt and splatter her back with your own thick slick, making sure to spread some of it over her butt.

"Now are you convinced you're sexy?" you ask—by now you've covered pretty much every surface of Choerry you can get at.

"Only on the outside," she teases, sitting in your lap. "What about inside, people talk about inner beauty, but what about inner sexy?"

"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do." You line yourself up for Choerry, and she does the rest, letting out a decadent "Ah..." as she sinks on to you. It is a snug fit, and you get to enjoy Choerry's little gasps of joy and discovery while she squirms and grinds on top of you, just to get you in a little deeper.

"Mmm..." A much sexier moan escapes her when your tip nudges against her cervix, and the fit goes from snug to perfect. "Is the inside of me sexy?"

"It's perfect, you feel so good around me."

"Mm mm," Choerry shakes her head. "Say it's sexy."

You wrap an arm around her midriff, applying a gentle rocking motion to get her to move more, to start fucking herself on you as you feed her filthy little nothings.

"Your insides feel so sexy, like I'm going to melt in you. I don't want to pull out ever, and I won't, because your womb?" You jerk up a little, making sure she feels you pushing against it. "It's so sexy too, I'm going to pump everything into you."

"Tell me more, more more more! I want to hear many more people say it!"

"Sexy Choerry!" "Choerry you're so sexy!" "You're the sexiest goddess!" Choerry looks around, and she sees copies of you, all saying the same things. You can sense the smile in the kiss she gives you.

"You're the best!"

"And you're the sexiest." She's even wetter now, slick flowing down her thighs as she gets even more excited by the praises coming from your copies.

"Are they real copies?"

"No, they're copies, but not real."

"But are they touchable?" The dark lust springs once more from her eyes as Choerry gets to the point. "Can they fuck me?"

You beckon one over, and Choerry pushes you down before hugging you tightly.

"Have him fuck my ass. It's all his, or well, yours!" You instantly feel a different type of pressure as the copy positions itself behind Choerry, and the nubile goddess is still as she feels the exact same cock in her pussy open up her ass. The two of you do your best to take her together, but it is difficult in the position, and you can't really do much but wiggle and grind your hips below Choerry.

"Ah, I feel so full... so sexy!" she moans, the pressure in her butt never going away as the copy thrusts slowly in and out of her.

"You are sexy, taking two of me at once? Amazing. But I want you to feel better." You stop things briefly to stand up, and in short order Choerry has her arms around your neck, her legs around your hips, and her butt in your hands as she is sandwiched nicely between you and your copy.

"Gyaahhh!" The new position allows gravity to help Choerry get stuffed even better, and with one single mind at work the two of you bounce her stupid on top of both cocks, always making sure that she feels sexy by having one shaft push in as the other one pulls out.

"Ohmygod, it feels even better!" Her head rests against your copy's shoulder, and she makes out with it, giving you access to her neck and chest in return. You leave a few marks on her skin, something that the copies will never get to do, and with your godly branding complete, you get back to the main task at hand. Choerry's divine figure is rattled back and forth between the two of you, each taking turns to pound her deeper onto the other cock.

"Guh fuck... I, I can't stop cumming..." She's clinging to your neck, drooling on your shoulder, spittle flying randomly with each hammer of Choerry's body against the anvils. All the while your other copies are still at work, the praises of Choerry still resonating in the air. "I-I want to feel them too, want them to make me feel sexy."

You have Choerry lie down on your copy, it's cock still buried in her ass. You take up residence in her heavenly chambers once more before the other three copies move over. Two of them take Choerry's hands and wrap them around their own cocks, and she begins stroking them mindlessly. The last copy kneels and pushes his shaft against her cherry red lips, and she obliges with her mouth. Choerry has never felt sexier in her life as she services all of "you" at once, dealing admirably with your cock in each of her holes, yet still managing to stroke the two in her hands.

"You look so sexy right now Choerry, if only the other goddesses could see you." Her mouth is too full to reply, but she clenches around you harder than before. "Would you like them to see us?"

"Mm! Mm!" She looks at you and nods, jerking the cock in her mouth as well.

"Choerry!" "Oh my god!" "What are you doing!" "Ahahaha!" Jinsoul, Haseul, Kim Lip, and Heejin appear, exclaiming at what they see before them. Choerry pops the shaft out of her mouth to address them.

"See! I am sexy, not cute! I—mmph!" Your copy takes Choerry's mouth back for their own use, and the other four goddesses are left incredibly aroused at the display in front of them. Choerry's body undulates in an erotic yet haphazard fashion, yourself and each copy manipulating a part of her for your own pleasure—you push her hips down with each thrust; your copy drives her hips up as it fucks up into her ass; the one at her mouth jerks her head, a hand in her hair rocking her back and forth; the other two drive her arms, helping her stroke them faster by thrusting into her hands. Faster and faster all of you work Choerry, and it all comes to a head at once.

"Mm! Gluk! Mmmf! Ngh mmmmmm! Pffhhhuck!" All of you plunge into Choerry with finality, and the instant explosion of cum inside and across her body makes her orgasm that much harder. Her legs jerk and thrash about, her toes curl, and she squirts against your abs even as her own chest is covered with two thick loads. When she goes limp, the goddesses watch you and your copies pull away, leaving Choerry leaking cum from all holes and dripping cum everywhere on her body.

"Put it back in, I want more, I want more... No, don't, mine!" You turn to see the goddess walk towards you, and each of them reaches for a you-copy. "Don't take..." Choerry pouts, but you pull her into your embrace, whispering in her ear.

"Let them go Choerry, you were so sexy, you made them all horny." Your point is illustrated from seeing the goddesses in different positions—Jinsoul has her legs wrapped around you, letting herself get carried and fucked; Haseul is on all fours, letting you mount her; Kim Lip has her back pressed against a cloud wall, letting you pound her into it; Heejin is on her side, one leg raised lewdly in the air while you fuck her sideways.

"Really? It was because of me?"

"Mmhmm, we should enjoy the show, besides, I want you to myself." You sit up against a cloud wall of your own making, allowing Choerry to lean back and draw your arms around her. You rub her clit lazily while she strokes you, just watching the orgy unfold in front of you.

"Did I look like that earlier?" she wonders aloud, as she see Jinsoul's expression twist in pleasure; Haseul's head jerks back and she let's out a cry as she cums; Kim Lip's biting her lower lip, low groans and little whimpers escaping every time she is pounded—her hair changes shades erratically, like she's losing her mind; Heejin rhythm is similarly off, sometimes moving fast, sometimes undulating slow, but always cumming, always drooling, her thighs and your shaft are shining with slick.

"You looked even sexier than that. You made them like this." Choerry kisses your jaw, murmuring as she grabs your shaft, nudging you into her.

"Make me like that too, breed me again." You lean forward, pushing the both of you on all fours, the perfect position to both breed Choerry and watch the others get bred. Your hands are greedy, one groping her breasts, the other grabbing her hips, holding her stably as you hump into her. Choerry looks on, watching her fellow goddesses get plowed and mated, each utterly satisfied at the pleasure you were giving them. She feels your warm hand on her belly, and she grabs it with a free hand, squeezing you as she tightens her pussy—she wants your load badly.

Choerry's scream is deafening when she goes over the edge with you, the warmth filling her overwhelming and delicious. She collapses in the clouds, eyes drooping in tiredness, all she sees is white—the white of the clouds, and the rivers of potent seed flowing out of Jinsoul, Haseul, Kim Lip, and Heejin.

Your run complete, the copies disappear, and you rest next to Choerry, smiling. She smiles back, seeming to glow, like sunshine incarnate. She gets brighter and brighter, and It is all consuming, the goddesses disappearing from sight—you're not fading to black, you're ascending into radiance. The last thing you hear is Choerry's laugh.

Large black words are the only distraction from the overwhelming brightness.

Replay DLC?

A/N: I threw in lots of references to each member, tried to portray them with their own exaggerated personalities. The Heejin Korean part was purely to make an "Algorithm" reference, don't worry about understanding it. If you get confused about the ground and walls existing, don't think too hard about it, it's all "god stuff", the ground is there if you need it, the wall is there if you need it (all in the form of clouds), cum that's on Choerry's body magically disappears, no need for clean up.

This is me mostly just writing and not worrying about the details I didn't want to worry about, so it is definitely more to the point and "get to the scene I want to write about". Hope it reads fine, thanks for reading and Happy New Year!

#smut #artms #jinsoul #haseul #kim lip #heejin #choerry

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1800jjbarnes · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

【Synopsis】 : James wants to taint you. Bend you. Change you. Until you're nothing but putty in his hands.

『Word count』 : 2.19k

Paring: Demon!Bucky x Angel!Readeer

[Warnings] : Unprotected sex, riding, nipple play, pet names, use of religion (angels and demons), praise.

Masterlist | Navigation

"James." You whimper as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing down your neck. The smell of whiskey slips off his tongue. A small record player, playing classical on vinyl to make background music. The red velvet against your knees as you dig further into the couch with Bucky holding you tight. Kissing along your neck, leaving marks in his path. He slips the straps of your nightgown and bra off your shoulders, giving your newly exposed skin sloppy kisses.

"Gorgeous." He mumbles under a groan, you grinding your hips again on his thick hips and thighs. Sex was a forbidden act among your kind. An act only two angels could do once they were linked and together forever as one. An act to only bring one thing to this world. Procreation. But here you were, losing count of how many times the man before you has opened you to new things.

"Let's take this off." He spoke in a low pant, pulling you up to stand along with him. Your gown falling, it pools at your feet on the floor. Bucky licks his lips, sighing at the sight of you, drinking every aspect of your body, never getting tired of how angelic you look even in the most dirtiest of scenarios. He quickly unbuttons his dress shirt, you bit your lip, letting your hands roam over his bare chest. He chuckles at your expression, still innocent even though your thoughts are nothing but sins.

You look up to the man smiling at him, a twinkle still in your eyes. A spark of your sweetness. He lets out a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around your bare waist, snuggling into your neck. The light touches of his fingertips and kisses all over your neck, drives you crazy. Like you've been touch starved for all your life―well that part may not be wrong―your body was willing to bend to Bucky's will.

"You're so dirty, my little angel." Bucky laughs, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you into a rough but passionate kiss. You whimper into the kiss, biting his lip. He picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Because of his demonic strength, you wrap your legs around his waist. He walks swiftly to the end of the bed before placing you down with a gentle thud. Leaning against your elbows, you crawl up the bed, keeping your lips connected with his at all times.

"Comfy love?" He cooed as you reached the pillows, laying down. Your hands run up Bucky's chest, with blush forming from his words. How can someone who's supposed to be pure evil still be so caring. He snuggles himself in between your opened legs. He kisses every part of your exposed skin, slowly moving down your body. Both his hands caressing every inch of you. His soft lips retch your inner thighs, teasing you. He bites your flesh, making you shiver under him.

"Ah, Buck..." You claw the sheets below you, moaning out his name. The sanitation making you already melt for him. Your cheeks blush red, heat rushing through your body. He chuckles, licking the bite mark.

"Say my name like that again." He bites your other thigh, hoping to get another moan out of you. But this time, your hands fly to his head, gripping his hair, letting out a cry while your hips involuntarily grind into nothing. He lowly growls at your action, satisfied at how your body aches for him. Sitting up, he sees your flushed face, eyes closed and mouth agape.

"Look at me, Angel." You open your eyes obediently, seeing Bucky sliding off the bed, taking his belt off before stripping himself of his suit pants. Letting them drop to the floor, he kicks them away before he props himself next to you, laying on his side.

He whispers dirty yet sweet nothings, draping your arm over him. Hand gliding on his shoulder blade before settling on the back of his neck, your fingers tangle themselves with the ends of his hair. He smiles into a kiss on your neck, painting your skin in his marks. His hand travelling behind your back, making you arch it for him to have better access to unclip your bra. He kisses your collar bone once more before slipping the item of clothing off your body. He looks up, seeing your now naked chest, breath hitching from the sight. Wasting no time, as he grabs a hold of your left nipple pinching it before wrapping his mouth around it, sucking hard. While the other hand gropes your right breast.

"Uh, Bucky―" You gasp, feeling such sensitivity on your breasts as Bucky's tongue swirls around them, switching from one another to give both the same treatment.

"Please...Please..." You don't know what you were begging for, but you were begging nonetheless. Gripping the sheets, his hair, clawing at his back, his hands and mouth gave you nothing but his full attention. Like he read your mind, his hand snaked down to the hem of your panties, sliding them down, before discarding them onto the floor. His fingers hover over where you need him most, a devilish grin smeared on his face as he watches your brows cross, eyes glued shut, waiting for him to finally touch you.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He praises, running his index finger along your slit, picking up some of your wetness.

"Ahh." You gasp aloud, feeling his cold metal fingers sliding up and down. He lands on your clit, slowly starting to rub circles. You grip his bicep arching your back, throwing your head into the pillow to block noises from getting too loud. Bucky noticed that, making use of your new position, he bites your neck giving you more reason to let out the dirty sounds he's craving.

"Oh my god." You choke out. He slips a finger into you, pumping it slowly in and out. His tongue licks over the bite he just made on your neck before kissing your jaw up to your lips, giving them a peck.

"How dare you use the lord's name in vain." He sarcastically gasps, making you both laugh, hitting him in the chest lightly. He takes this moment to move between your opened legs, fingers still slowly pumping, leaning over you to capture you in a hot kiss. You moan into his mouth, tongues, and teeth clashing together. He adds another finger into you, then more one, gifting him a hiss from you. Feeling the new stretch below you, your hands grip onto his shoulders, a lone tear breaking away from you.

"Shh, it's okay, I got to get you ready, Angel." He speaks through the sloppy kiss, pumping into you faster. He breaks away kissing the tear on your cheek, heat rushes through your veins, panting Bucky's name out like it was the only word you knew. A pit in your stomach forming, a release needing to be chased. Grinding on his fingers, you snap out a choking moan just before you let go. But in pain, Bucky slips his fingers out, sitting up away from your body. You mewl at the loss of touch, feeling the rush of cold air hitting you. You try to sit up to follow him, but your arms have turned to jelly. Making quick to rid himself of his boxers. you finally see Bucky completely, every scar, tan line, and beauty mark he had.

"Like what you see?" He outs out a low chuckle, flexing his arms a bit as he leans back over you.

"Shut up." You chuckle, hitting his chest lightly, before pulling him into a kiss.

"Oh, my Angel has a potty mouth." He growls in between kisses. You just shake your head at him, keeping his lips on yours. He grabs behind your knees, pulling your legs around his waist, feeling his tip brush against your core. A sense of anxiety fills you, mixing into your pleasure. Bucky could tell by your worried look, giving the side of your thigh a squeeze to reassure you. You give him a smile in response to tell him you're okay.

"James..." You sigh out, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He grabs his cock, bringing it to your entrance, easing into you. You claw at his back feeling a painful stretch. He cooed in your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you.

'That it... You're taking me so well. Fuck you're such a good girl.'

He stays still for a moment, letting you get fully used to the feeling of this new position. You lightly tap his shoulder, indicating he can move. He draws his hips back, pulling his cock out until only his tip is inside you, before snapping back into you with a deep thrust.

"Bucky!" You moan out, as a 'Fuck' slips from him in groans as he grinds his hips into you faster and harder. A feeling of pleasure runs through both of you, a fire lighting inside of you. Sounds of skin slapping, sloppy kisses and groans echoing through the dim room. Holding onto his back, you drag your nails down, temping to draw blood.

"My baby..." He sits up to adjust himself, but you roll him over so you're are now on top of him, grinding down, making him let out a low deep growl. His eyes change to a deep red threatening to turn black, a primal grunt leaving him as he grips your hips hard, surely leaving bruises for the morning.

You bounce on him, placing your hands on his chest to stable yourself. His hands that grip your hips, snake around to your ass, slapping your cheeks. A tingle in your stomach form, opening your eyes you see Bucky staring up at you with a fucked out expression. His dark eyes burning into you.

"Fuck I love you." You slip out, your clear eyes, hazing over with a red tint, painting your angelic eyes to a now dark crimson. A smirk falls on Bucky's face, leaning you down to rest on his chest, his face inches from your as he thrust his hips up into you at a speed, unlike anything.

"I love you too, my angel." He kisses your cheek enjoying your expressions as you let the pleasure ride over your senses. The knot in your stomach shakes as a feeling of release is needed.

"Go on, baby, let it go." He growls, taking another slap of your red cheeks. Feeling Bucky twitch inside you, you finally let out. All the innocence washing away. All the purity falling through the cracks of pure sin. Feeling Bucky spill into you, you scream out, hugging him tightly as both your highs erupt and with a final snap of Bucky's hips a moment of new being happened.

"Love, your wings." Bucky chokes out seeing your wings for the now second time. Only having ever seen them when you both first met. But this time, they were different. The once pure white feathers were now pitch black. He reaches out to touch the soft feathers, and you take notice, dropping them down so they cover you both. Your half-closed eyes are still slightly fuzzy, seeing the dark feathers. A new feeling stirring.

"They are beautiful." He whispers, kissing your forehead as you lay your head on his chest. Both panting with hearts racing, you weakly chuckle at his words. You let out a soft sigh before sitting up slowly. Bucky follows your movement, keeping a grip on your waist. He kisses your neck, your wings wrapping around both of you lightly tickling Bucky's back. Your heart starts to slow down as your breathing becomes stable. You lean in to kiss him with soft passion, melting into his embrace. You retract your wings, not wanting them to be out in the open in such a small space just in case. Bucky lets out a sigh, making you pull away to tilt your head, asking if he is okay.

"I was starting to like them being out, it's like you were hugging me with them." He teases.

"Oh god, shut up." You laugh at his words. a moment of silence fell, just a moment before Bucky gained the strength to pick you up and take you to the connected bathroom to your room. Getting cleaned up, Bucky puts his boxers on while you get a new pair of panties. Opting for no bra, you cuddle under the blankets, feeling each other's bare chest against one another.

"Goodnight, my angel." he kisses your forehead as you snuggle into his chest.

"Goodnight, My Love."

You were now his Fallen Angel.

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bratzforchris · 9 days

Text

Inked Daisies (Chapter 1)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: There will be individual warnings for each chapter. No warnings in this one!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Soooo...my first series on here ♡ In this universe, Matt has a nose ring and his usual tattoos, plus some other tats and piercings that'll be added later hehe<3 Let me know how you like it!! 💐💐

“Nope,” Matt shook his head as you stepped inside the shop, looking at you from behind the counter. “You can’t bring those in here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the small Mason jar of flowers down on the glass case that held a variety of glittering body jewelry. “They’re flowers, Matt. Not a bomb.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask. Plus, they ruin the look.” Matt kept his eyes trained on whatever he was looking at on his laptop, but you could see a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re so grumpy,” You tsked, maneuvering yourself behind the counter and peering over his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Matt sighed, running his hands through his hair and spinning himself around in his chair to look at you. “This dude keeps changing his fucking design even though he’s put his deposit down. And guess what? His appointment’s tomorrow,” he sighed again, brushing a hand across his nose. “Fuck, I forgot that’s a new piercing.”

Your face dropped into a pout at Matt’s stress. You had known him since freshman year when you had become friends with Chris and the other two triplets by extension. Although you didn’t see all the inner workings of Matt’s mind, you knew that he struggled with anxiety and stress. A particular instance at Six Flags during your sophomore year had told you that much.

“Let’s see the design,” You offered, filling up a paper cup from the water jug behind the counter. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to make him happy.”

“What? Give him the tattoo for free and then change once it’s already on his body?” Matt raised a brow at you as you poured the water into the jar of flowers.

“You’re such a pessimist, Matt,” You shook your head, placing the now-full jar of flowers next to his computer. “If it helps take away the awful, vile sight of big, scary flowers, these are the outcasts. Their stems were too short and a few of them are missing some petals. They’re the rejects.”

Owning a florist’s shop had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. You had been captivated by flowers since the day your granny had taken you into her expertly tended garden, leading you around and telling you all the meanings for the different plants. In a way, it almost felt like you were carrying on her legacy by owning such a dainty, girly shop that sold her favorite things. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked the fact that your shop was directly across the street from an all black tattoo and piercing parlor that just so happened to be owned by your best friend’s brother, but she definitely would’ve liked the aesthetic of your business.

You drew yourself out of your thoughts, pulling up the chair of another piercer who had left earlier in the day. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Matt moved a few things around on his laptop, opening up Procreate and clicking onto a design. In your opinion, it was absolutely gorgeous. The tall oak tree in the drawing had large branches that extended outwards, but instead of leaves, the tree held clocks that were all stuck at midnight. Underneath the actual drawing was the carefully lettered sentence ‘Until Time Stops’ in swirly letters that matched the chains of the clocks.

“That’s beautiful,” You said softly, your eyes entranced by the drawing. “It’s…wow, it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so too.” Matt mumbled, clearly more lost in his artistic mind than here with you.

This reminded you of the nights during high school sleepovers. Chris and Nick would pass out early, leaving just you and Matt. You both struggled with insomnia, so some nights you would both stay up, pouring over the brunette’s sketchbook together while Matt explained each and every drawing in great detail to you. You had noticed that, similar to you, Matt had an eye for the natural world. You’d never brought this notice up to him of course, but you often thought about it during the early morning hours when you were doing opening duties in the shop while waiting for your employees to arrive.

“But he doesn’t like it, so it’s a scrap,” Matt shrugged, closing out the application and leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. “God, I’m fucking tired.”

You sighed sympathetically, hopping out of the chair. “I understand. I guess I’d want something I really like if it’s going on my body permanently. Doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying, though.” You acknowledged, bustling around behind the counter as you stacked papers up, put pens back in their cups, and locked the jewelry case.

“I get that you like flowers and animals and shit, but you don’t have to do that. You’re not Cinderella. I’ll do it later.” he sighed.

“Later? Matt, it’s almost nine,” the only reason you had come into the shop in the first place was because you had finished cleaning and locking your own store rather early and had seen Matt sitting behind the counter. “You need to go home and eat and sleep. A) You gotta be hungry and B) No offense, but I wouldn’t want someone who’s sleep deprived to be giving me a tattoo or piercing.” You joked, bumping his shoulder lightly.

As if on cue, Matt’s stomach growled audibly, making him fidget with embarrassment, but not so much that he couldn’t open one blue eye to glare at you. “Says you. How many times have you gotten Astrids and Hydrangeas mixed up because you stayed up all night reading.” the brunette chuckled to himself, remembering the time that you had employed the triplets’ help to create a brand new bouquet less than an hour before a certain bridezilla’s wedding.

“Now that’s not fair and you know it.” You huffed.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.” Matt insisted, smirking triumphantly once he saw you sigh in defeat.

“You’re annoying,” You grumbled. “I like Chris much better.”

“Sure ya do, sweetheart.” Matt didn’t even look in your direction as he closed his laptop, shoving it into his black tote bag.

Something about the way Matt said such a simple sentence had you fighting your blush, grabbing your own bag that you had sat down earlier. You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach, fiddling with your phone while Matt finished the tasks you hadn’t completed. “You think Nick and Chris would kill me if I brought pizza over instead of their elaborate orders from five different restaurants?” You asked, eager to move your mind away from the implication of his words.

“You’re coming over?” Matt turned to look at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face.

“Nick invited me. You know we don’t see each other as much as we did when we were kids. I miss our sleepovers.” You smiled softly.

Matt’s eyes crinkled with nostalgia. “Yeah, I remember that. They were kind of nice, I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to treat us like chumps. You got a girlfriend you’d rather be hanging out with or something?”

“No.” it was a single word, yet the boy’s tone changed from one of fondness to something much deeper and almost angrier.

“I’m sorry, I…” You trailed off, studying him as he picked up his bag, trying not to focus on the tattoos that snaked down his muscular arms and connected to the chunky, silver rings on his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore subject.” Even though you two were close, you knew Matt didn’t tell you everything about his life.

“Let’s just go, okay? I’m sure the ruffians are hungry.” he grumbled, walking towards the door.

You scrambled after your friend, each of his broad steps equaling four of yours. “They’re not so bad.”

“That’s because you don’t live with them,” Once you were both outside, Matt turned and locked the door to the shop behind him. “Trust me, when Chris burps in your face for the fiftieth time that day, it gets less funny and more annoying. Do you have a ride?”

“...no…” You admitted.

“Can no one in my life get their license?” Matt sighed, not even waiting for you as he started the trek to his car.

“Actually,” You corrected him, practically jogging to keep up. “I have my license. I’m just saving for a car.”

You believed city transportation was a perfectly valid form for getting from point A to point B, but as you slid into the passenger seat of Matt’s car, you couldn’t help but to admit that having your own personal vehicle was a much nicer alternative. Matt pulled out of the parking space without speaking, but you could feel his warm presence beside you in the car. As he migrated the car through the narrow city streets, you found yourself wondering what your life would be like if this is how every single day went for you. You knew Matt would drive you home in the evenings if you asked, but a part of you wanted to keep the rare occasion of rides together just that. Rare, special, something seemingly so mundane that it was almost silly you were even thinking about this.

Time spent alone with Matt was rare, despite working across the street from each other. Between being a triplet and your friendship with Chris, the one-on-one actions were few and far between. But for some reason, on nights like tonight, when you thought about how he interacted with you, you wished that you could make them happen over and over and over again.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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mistress-riddle · 11 months

Text

‘𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

request. Can u do a father's Day with Tom riddle of how he spends time with his child?

cw. tom riddle x wife! afab reader, use of she/her pronouns, a changed riddle who let fatherhood make him become a better person.

a sigh escapes tom’s lips and he doesn’t even bother to contain it. returning home and being met with the sight of toys scattered on the floor and the smell of milk permeating through the air revokes an odd feeling of nostalgia through tom as he avoids the obstacles on the floor and beelines straight to the dark grey sofa occupied by 2 individuals.

tom places his briefcase on the coffee table and takes a good look at the mother and child snoozing together, soft breaths escaping their lips as they cling to one another in a quiet slumber. this time tom releases a softer sigh and easily drapes a random blanket on his family and retreats to his room for a quick shower, he decides to join them once he’s finished. it doesn’t take long for the man to wash up and get changed, a quick flick of his wrist and his wet hair is dried and styled in its normal wear and he’s by their side, slowly and gently scooping the sleepy child into his hold. the mother stirs, eyes fluttering open and a yawn escapes her as she rubs at her eye, using the other open eye to scan the room. it rests on the standing figure of tom who’s patting the baby’s back as softly as he can.

“oh honey, you’re back?” [name] asks, fixing the baby bib on her shoulder and placing the baby bottle on the table, which was previously clutched in her palm to feed their baby before the two decided to take a much needed nap.

“i wasn’t required at work today so i came home early.” he shrugs, not too strongly of course since the baby’s cheek is smushed against his shoulder and he didn’t want to wake him up.

“that’s wonderful.” [name] claims, getting up from the couch to pat his free shoulder and places a hand over her mouth to cover the yawn “you want something to eat? we had a late lunch around half an hour ago, or maybe it was 2 hours?” by the dazed look in her eyes tom wouldn’t doubt it being over 2 hours ago.

“it’s fine, i ate before coming here.” he lifts a hand and places it on his wife’s flushed cheek, using a thumb to caress it “how was the little one when i was gone? didn’t bother you much?”

[name] raises a brow at him and allows a smirk to extend across her lips. tom seems to think that he’s a baby whisperer. he used to brag about how every time he was left to deal with one of the younger orphans back at wool’s, they’d fall silent in his presence. [name] doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the children were just scared of his glares. although, their little baby seems to actually enjoy his company, if the cutest little smile that lift his baby cheeks and incoherent babbling are anything to go by.

“he was fine, didn’t make a fuss, thank merlin.” the teething phase is a pain but little leo was being better than others his age. [name] lifts toms hand off her cheek and enters the kitchen, a few waves of her hand and she has the teapot hovering over 2 mugs.

tom takes a seat on the couch and shits the baby to rest on his lap, hands grasping two little ones as he fondly looks at the infant. he looks like a perfect mix between tom and [name], has tom’s black hair that shows the softest wave, [name]’s nose and lips and tom’s eyes. it’s a weird position tom finds himself in as he stares at their child. he thought it was foolish of people to settle down and procreate, thought it was weak and if you were to ask him 10 years ago if he was going to start a family of his own, he would have laughed in your face and walked away. now, however, tom finds himself cringing at his foolish 17 year old self, so self-absorbed and driven by all the wrong things.

“sickle for your thoughts?” [name] interrupts tom. he startles and presses rather harshly into tiny leo’s hand. a grimace overtakes the two as they fear the wailing that might follow but the baby merely peeks 2 eyes open and sends them a dissatisfied look “woah, tommy, it’s like looking at a carbon copy of you.” [name] snorts as she scratches a finger against the puffy cheeks of the baby, hoping to placate him in some way.

“very funny.” tom dryly replies and sends her a similar expression which does nothing to cease her amusement.

“strong genes you got there.” the husband just rolls his eyes before looking back at his baby and smiling down at him.

“had a good sleep, huh?” he asks his son who reaches up and tom holds him up allowing the boy to grasp the satin material of tom’s pajamas in his clutch, resting his cheek against toms chest.

“leo,” [name] calls softly from beside tom as she rubs the baby’s head affectionately “wanna tell daddy what we prepared for him?” tom raises one brow in curiosity as his baby stirs happily in place and mumbles something much like the word “cake” into toms neck.

“you baked me a cake?” he asks and is momentarily met with a chocolate covered cake with the words ‘happy father’s day’ iced on top of it with what he presumes to be white chocolate. a shoddy art piece can be located towards the bottom of the cake and tom feels confident enough to credit little leo as the artist. something swells in toms heart as he receives a kiss on both cheeks from his two beloveds.

“happy father’s day, love.” [name] whispers softly into his ear and tom picks up on the babble from leo “ ‘appy papa day!”

with [name] feeding all 3 of them the cake and tom entertaining the baby, they sit together in perfect harmony. plans of revenge, destruction and war long discarded and forgotten in favour of this. tom quite liked the feeling that came with receiving kisses from his family as opposed to the splitting of one’s soul.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #harry potter x reader #tom riddle jr #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle drabble #tom riddle headcanon

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Text

The Princess and her Knight

Pairing: Knight Geto Suguru x FAB Princess Reader

Word Count: 3,383

Warning: Fingering, cursing, making out? Talking of royal politics, voyeurism,

A/N: This gave me the brain worms. I love fantasy. Plus Geto as a knight in leather?! 🫠🥴 yummy!!

“What a waste! I pity anyone who gets stuck marrying her! I've never been insulted! Good luck marrying her off!” Geto smiled, tilting his head as your latest suitor stormed out of the gardens.

That makes ten suitors so far. All of which have left either furious, like this one, or very disappointed. “He’s gone, Y/N,” Suguru called out with a chuckle.

Upon his words, you poked your head out from behind the large willow tree in the garden. You grinned, stepping out of your hiding place, happily humming as you smooth out your long lavender gown before standing before your knight. Geto Suguru shook his head, offering you his arm.

“Your parents are not going to be happy.”

“Well, I'm not happy!” you stuck out your bottom lip, looking up at your guardian. “Suguru, they want to sell me off like cattle! I’m a person, not a thing! Don't my feelings count?”

“They should, but you’re of age. It comes with the territory of being a princess.” Suguru’s stoic voice had you rolling your eyes. “You should try to get to know some of them, Y/N.”

You didn't want to get to know these strange men! You just wanted to know Suguru on a more intimate level. Peel back the layers of leather, steel, and cloth. What was your dark-haired knight hiding under professionalism and attitude? He certainly wasn't a fan of these strange men coming to see you. You had seen the look each time one of them took your hand. It was a subtle twitch of the eye, nothing any other person would notice. But you, you knew him like the back of your hand. Your knight was jealous.

Suguru would never make the first move because of two things. One, he was your knight, and two, he was of common birth. You couldn't care less about that! If he would continue to observe without acting, you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Why bother? Every single one of them is disappointed with my naivety. They say there’s no point in getting to know someone if I don't know how to kiss properly.”

Suguru stopped in his tracks, dark eyes snapping in your direction. “What did you just say?” Perfect, he was taking the bait.

“I said, all these suitors are running off because they said I don't know how to kiss.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. “That's the problem with royal families; they simply tell you to produce an heir. They don't teach you about your body and how to seduce others. I suppose my family name will die out.” You could feel every muscle in Suguru’s body tighten with your words. “All because no one taught me how to kiss.”

“I-I see—!” This is the only thing Suguru had to say in response to your very open invitation. How much more of a hint could you drop!?

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Suguru groaned, looking down as you hugged his arm. Your perfect breasts were brushing against him. “Suguru, do you know how to kiss?” The sparkle in your eyes and faint flush that dusted your cheeks had Suguru fighting against himself.

“I do,” seeing your excitement, he flicked your forehead, “do not even ask.”

Despite being a young adult, you whined like a child. You were hugging his arm tighter, pressing yourself harder against him. You were not backing down! Not this time! If your parents wanted to sell you off for procreation, you were going to have fun!

“Isn't it your duty to protect me? To protect the crown?”

“Yes, but kissing you is not in my job description.”

“Suguru.” When he looked down at you, he was met with teary eyes. A sight he had not anticipated seeing. “Please.” Inhaling sharply, Suguru watched as those big tears streamed down your cheeks. “It's bad enough I have to marry someone I don't love. All of my firsts are being sold off to the highest bidder. Is it that bad that I want to give my first kiss to whomever I choose?”

“Y/N, don't.”

You released his arm, pressing your hands on his chest, staring into his eyes. He was everything to you: your protector, friend, and first love. Geto Suguru is the man you would choose to be your everything—husband, king, lover.

You wanted to be everything to him as well.

“Suguru, please, I want it to be you.” You stood on your tiptoes, closing the distance between you. “Will you please teach me?” You glanced at his lips through your lashes before leaning in closer. His heavy breathing mingled with yours. An unfamiliar sensation began to flutter in your lower stomach. “Sugu—”

A millisecond before your lips touched, Suguru’s hand shot up, covering his mouth. His reaction felt like a dagger to the heart. He didn't want it. Meaning he must not want you.

You thought what the two of you had was more. That your relationship wasn't merely knight and princess, friends, that maybe deep down beneath the vows he'd taken, he felt more than his duty. All the laughs you shared, the late-night strolls, afternoon naps in the garden. It wasn't; it wasn't just a lie, unrequited love.

But how could it be more if he reacted like this?

Embarrassment washed over the desire you had felt seconds before. Leaving you feeling numb and empty. “I-I have to go,” you whispered, turning on your heels for the palace.

You didn't have a chance to move. Your wrist was grabbed as Suguru began dragging you towards the hedge maze. Suguru didn't say a word as he pulled you deeper and deeper inside. His vigilant eyes searched every corner for any sign of life. He was always watchful, but now, more than ever.

Once he had you as far away from the palace and servants, he turned to glare down at you. Bracing yourself for a lecture, you shut your eyes tight. You didn't have the courage to face him. You didn't want those hopes to be over just yet!

“Don't!” Hands flew up, pushing against his chest. “Please don't break my heart. Let me hang on to the thoughts of us just a little while longer, please! They're the only thoughts that make me happy!”

Suguru’s harsh words never came. Instead, his hands reached down, gently holding yours. “You're not that bright sometimes, are you.” His soft tone had your gaze snapping towards his face. “But then again, that's one of the things I like about you.” Suguru brought your hands to his mouth. “Oblivious and passionate.” Lips, his lips brushed against your knuckles, sending your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“B-But I-I don't understand. You covered your mouth!”

“Because you choose a spot in the wide open to come onto me.” Shaking his head, Suguru gently released your hands. “Just how would you explain this to any prying eyes?”

“Huh, this? What do you mean thi—”

Suguru’s hands cupped your face, pulling you into a deep and passionate kiss. They were soft, softer than you ever dreamed they'd be. You melted into him, kissing him back with the same gentle tempo. Feeling your lips against his, Suguru groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as one hand moved to the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shirt, hanging onto him tight as you matched his movements as best as possible. This had to be the best first kiss anyone had ever experienced. It was passionate and sweet, like the pastries you would sneak from the kitchens. The entire world had stopped around the two of you.

You were the first to break the kiss; the both of you panted, mouths practically still against each other. “That was, wow.” Suguru chuckled as your words murmured into his mouth.

“Yeah, wow.”

“Again.” Was the only thing you said before crashing your lips against his. He stumbled back, falling onto the grass. “Mmm,” You moaned, eyes shut, eyebrows knitting in concentration.

He tasted sweet, like the strawberries you two had shared before you had to meet with the baron. Sweet and tangy, a taste you craved more with each kiss. Suguru’s hands gently gripped against your hips as he leaned back against one of the hedge walls. Feeling his hands, those strong, calloused hands on your body in a way no one had touched you before, had that faint fluttering sensation returning to your stomach.

Suguru felt the way you twitched under his touch, eyes slowly opening to watch your reactions. You were flushed, eyes shut tight, as you kissed him back. It was utterly adorable. He watched you, trying to figure out what you liked and how you were supposed to move. The gods were so good to him. Giving him a chance to not only protect you but also to touch you in ways you'd never been touched.

You pulled back, gasping for air. Suguru could see the hunger in your eyes, the desire for him. So he decided to give his darling princess a hand. Grabbing your hips, Suguru repositioned you so that you were straddling him. Following his lead, you pulled your skirts up a bit, allowing your legs to rest on either side of his body. Your bodies were so close to each other, only your undergarments and his pants separating you.

“Are you okay?” Suguru’s voice was hoarse, lips swollen from the intense kisses.

“I-I feel strange, like my body is on fire.” You knew all about sex and what came along with it. You had read plenty of books, ones your tutors would never approve of. But experiencing it firsthand, words failed in comparison to actually feeling another's hands on you. “I don't know what to do; this isn't covered in my lessons.”

Tensions grew between you, thick and heavy, as Suguru hummed. Half of his dark hair cascaded down his back, while the rest was tied in a bun, allowing you to see his flushed ears. It seemed as though you weren’t the only one feeling the growing heat simmering between you. You knew he wanted this as bad as you did. But to what extent was he willing to go?

Clearing his throat, Suguru gently squeezed your hips. “That's the problem with royals. They always tell you to be obedient and take care of your partner's needs.” rough handles slid down to your thighs. “They never explain your body to you. Or how to please your partner.” Dark eyes seared through you. “Luckily for you, I know how to take care of you, how to make you feel good.” Words trailed off as his blush darkened. “Could I try?” Your face turned red.

“Y-Yes, please.”

Suguru slid his hands up, gently grabbing and massaging your breasts in his hands. “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped out, arching, pressing yourself closer into his palms. “Your hand is so big.”

“Oh Princess,” Suguru purred, his head leaning in, trailing kisses down your neck, “You sound so fucking pretty.” Fingers began rubbing circles over your hardening nipples.

That hot foreign feeling in the pit of your stomach spread, settling between your legs. “Suguru~ oh Suguru, it feels so good.” Fingers gently ran through his hair, tangling in the dark strands of silky hair.

Encouraged by your sounds, Suguru kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, before he gently tugged the front of your dress down. You'd opted out of a corset today, thank the gods, making it easier for Suguru to pull the brassiere down. Your perfect breasts bounced. With a glance around, making sure the coast was clear, Suguru hummed before taking your nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, gods! You clasped a hand over your mouth, I

In an attempt to silence yourself. “Nngh S-Sugu, that feels weird but good at the same time.”

“Do you like how it feels?” Suguru’s mouth turned to your other breast, giving it the same loving treatment. Tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, making you whimper in turn.

You gripped his shoulders, pressing your chest further into his face. “I-I do! I, oh gods, I had no idea I was capable of feeling like this.” It felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. Every touch, every lap of his tongue, had you craving more. You wanted more, but not for yourself. The desperation of making Suguru feel as good as you did had you feeling confident. “Can I make you feel good too?” Suguru’s eyes widened before unlatching himself from your breasts.

“Y/N, you have no idea what this is doing to me.” When you could finally look into his eyes, you noticed how heavily he was breathing. He looked so out of it like he had gone off the deep end. “I need more of this; don't worry about me.” behind the lust and the need, you could also see the love and adoration. He shifted under you, pressing his hardening bulge against your core before massaging your breasts once more.

Feeling it had you tilting your head back, eyes widening. “Oh fuck~!” Your curse had Suguru groaning, fighting the urge to rock up against you. “S-Suguru~ feels so good, but I uhm—” You felt wet, sticky, and warm between your legs. The foreign feeling had your cheeks burning.

Upon hearing the hesitation in your tone, Suguru pulled away instantly. “Feel what? Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” His genuine concern had you falling for him even harder.

“No! Not in the slightest! I, well, I feel wet between my legs?” Your answer was formed more like a question. You were unsure how an average couple would mention this. Instead of continuing to speak, you leaned back slightly, lifting your skirts. “Do we, do we need to stop?”

Suguru hissed through his teeth. The sight of your lacey underwear had his pants growing tighter. But it was the dampness forming on them, your arousal glinting in the rays of sunlight, that had him throbbing. His sweet, innocent princess had left a wet spot on his pants. Fuck, he didn't think he needed anyone as bad as he needed you. You gifted, feeling hot under his gaze as he licked his lips, eyes glued to your dripping sex.

“N-No, gods no, that's supposed to happen when you're feeling good and aroused.” His voice was deep, cracking with need. “Do you want to stop? We can.”

“No! I don't want to stop.”

“Ok, just lean back a bit.” Following his instructions, you put both hands behind you, resting them on his knees. With shallow breaths, you watched as he slid his hand between your legs, his finger slowly pressing against your covered core. “Oh my gods,” Suguru growled, biting his lip. He curled his finger under the fabric separating the two of you before dipping his finger between your folds.

“Ah!” You squeaked out, covering your mouth. “Oh gods, oh gods, Sugu.”

“You're so wet, Y/N.” Gentle fingers moved up and down, feeling your folds before they traced around your entrance. “Who knew my princess was so,” he smirked, leaning forward, nipping at your earlobe, “sensitive?” The second that last word left his mouth, he pushed a finger inside of you.

Your entire body lurched; Suguru’s free grabbed your hip, helping steady you. Your mouth was wide open as so many sensations hit you at once. Shock, pleasure, and desire, the feeling of Suguru’s finger pumping in and out of you slowly, god, it was better than kissing.

“Feel good,” you kissed his forehead, “feels good Sugu.”

The pretty sounds from your mouth made Suguru’s throat dry. Swallowing hard, he began pumping his finger in and out of your tight cunt. Your walls hugged him so tight, trying to prevent him from moving. But Geto Suguru wasn't going to let that stop him. Not when you breathed out his name like it was a prayer to the gods. He pumped his finger faster, curling it in before he slid another finger into your heat.

“Oh fuck.” A tightening sensation formed in your lower abdomen. “Oh fuck, Suguru, Sugu~!”

Your knight closed the distance, kissing you deeply. “Shhh, Y/N, don't be so loud. What would people say if they saw you like this?” His fingers curled inside of you.

“They’d say lucky princess!” you moaned against his lips.

“Yeah?” Suguru scoffed against your swollen lips. “You're honest, I'll give you that.” He tilted his head, thumb brushing against your clit. “I think your honesty deserves a reward.” His thick fingers pushed deeper, rubbing against a spot inside of you that had you seeing sparks. Knowing the reaction you would have, Suguru kissed you to swallow the moan that ripped through your throat.

The pleasure felt so good; you wanted to be loud, to let the whole kingdom know how good your knight made you feel. Suguru was right. You had to be quiet, at least until you two could sneak off to his quarters. You would rather die than allow this to be a one-time thing. For now, you kissed him to muffle your whimpers and cries.

When Suguru felt your pussy twitching, contracting around his fingers, he smirked. How lucky was he? Not only was he your first kiss, but he would also get to be the first one to make you cum. And if he was lucky, and the gods were gracious enough, he'd be the only one to do so.

A broken “Sugu” was the only final confirmation he needed that you were going to cum. His hand sped up, fingers fucking into you as your hips rolled, chasing the strange feeling that was fluttering inside of you. You rocked and rolled up, and the coil inside of you snapped. You screamed into Suguru’s mouth as you gushed around his fingers. Your first orgasm had your toes curling, your heart racing, and you trembling in your knight's lap.

“Holy fuck.” Suguru moaned out against your lips. Watching you squirm on his lap had his cock throbbing. “Fuck Y/N.” Shuddering sighs shook your entire being as you pressed your forehead against his, Y/E/C boring into dark eyes. Licking your lips, feeling more confident than ever, your hands reached down, cupping his erection. “Nngh!”

“Suguru, let me help you.”

Just as you learned away, Suguru’s eyes began to follow your other hand, trailing over his shoulder, when a shape caught his eye. He moved, throwing you off his lap and putting you behind him as he drew out his sword. The shape stepped closer, and Suguru clenched his teeth.

“Stop, right fuckin’ there. Don't move a muscle.”

The sudden shock wore off, and you quickly readjusted yourself before scooting back against the hedge. Your heart was thundering again, this time not because of lust or excitement but because of fear. Shaking, you and Suguru watched as the shape stepped out of the darkness and into the glimmering rays of sunlight.

“Relax, I was just enjoying the show.” your eyes trailed over fine clothes of dark blue, embodied with silver threads. “I was surprised to see Princess Y/N, the so-called naive and stuck-up princess, getting finger fucked.”

“Stop!” Suguru commanded, taking a step back towards you. “Don't move any closer, and state what business you have here at the palace.”

“My family dragged me here.” The stranger didn't heed Suguru’s warning and stepped further into the light. “They keep dragging me to meet stupid princesses. They’re so insistent I find a bride and father an heir. After hearing all the rumors about your princess, I hid here before meeting. But by the gods themselves, who would have imagined I found the princess here? And she's not as naive as the rumors stated.” Another step closer towards you.

“Who are you?” You asked, standing up, peeking from behind Suguru.

The stranger chuckled, stepping entirely out into the light. Cerulean blue eyes glittered behind white eyelashes that narrowed as he smirked. “Gojo Satoru, Prince of the kingdom of Fontaine.” Both you and Suguru’s hearts dropped into your stomachs as the prince chuckled. “And I think I just found myself a bride,” his eyes focused on Suguru, “and a husband. The gods are good!”

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milknhonies · 4 months

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Sherlock Holmes is forced to marry you...and it is clear...he does not appreciate the union...thanks Enola...

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Domestic r4pe, P in V intercourse, Forced/Arranged Marriage, Loss of Virginity, Loss of Innocence, Domestic Violence. Wedding crashing.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This story has been published in the past on Tumblr on my old account @milknhonies-old-account since I have created a newer account and I am reposting it here.

11:35pm Monday 28th April 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

“You know Sherlock, matrimony is not as wicked and cruel as you might believe,” said his companion one day beside the fireplace of their flat.

The detective was slumped in his chaise playing away at his violin obnoxiously. The terrible tune of Frère Jacques made the doctor wince as it hit his ears sharply. Sherlock Holmes had found himself in a mental state of his own man made dramatics...

“Et tu Watson?” Sherlock sighed and put the violin down before wiping a hand over his face, “My dear doctor, I have no desire to restrain myself to the shackles and torture you inflict onto yourself.” He rose to his feet with a lengthy groan and sat his instrument aside. The depressed sir stumbled over a pile of discarded books to get to the drinks trolley.

The wine bottle cork popped loudly as he tugged you open.

It was no mystery. Sherlock did not entirely approve of Mary Watson purely out of jealous spite influenced by the attentions of his friend. When the pair married Sherlock stood stiff and tight lipped. He reluctantly handed over the ring as John’s Bestman.

Over the engagement and even during the marriage, Sherlock did not cease his sly childish comments made from time to time.

John however had caught his wife in conversation and debate on numerous occasions with the detective. Mrs Watson and Mr Holmes were not friends by any means, but they tolerated each other under limited circumstances. They found smart enjoyment in each other.

The doctor had come to visit his friend under the revered request of the older Holmes brother...Mycroft. There was finally an expectation...Mycroft wanted Sherlock to make a male Holmes heir...Perhaps it was scandalous rumour but John wondered how true the gossip of the older brother was; being a pillow biter or an infertile gentleman...especially with the pressure to have Sherlock marry and procreate.

Sherlock poured himself a glass of wine and downed it quickly. He set the glass on the mantle and shook his head slowly.

John tried to smile, “Mary and I have fun.”

Sherlock scoffed jealousy.

John had been married and moved out of Baker Street for six months now. Sherlock dared not ask the condition of Mary’s pregnancy.

“What fun? With your lace doilies and Shepard’s pie?”

His friend smirked, “I enjoy Mary’s pie very much, Sherlock...” He pursed is lips and tapped his cane to the floor, “Perhaps you need a slice of your own?”

Sherlock glanced at his friend. He narrowed his eyes as he returned back to the chaise, careful to not trip again on the books and loose papers that laid across the floor.

“My own pie?” Sherlock crooned as he laid back into the cusions, “Why do I get the sense that we are not speaking that of a pastry?”

The doctor tilted his head and cleared his throat, staring off into the fire, “Mrs Hudson has confided in me that you’ve resorted to returning here with...friends from Mayfair Row of the fairer sex.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. The old hag of a landlady needed to keep her nose out of his business. He was making his rent on time, it shouldn’t matter who he kept his business with.

The detective groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Merely cases, dear John.”

The doctor bristled, “Do not lie to me Sherlock,” he waved his finger, “I know very well what you do with those women...it’s only a matter of time you ask me to check your pecker. God knows what they carry.”

Sherlock shrugged and sniffed loudly.

“For goodness sake man...” John scolded, “Have you no heart whatsoever then for the dear girl you are to marry?”

The detective rubbed his hands and laced his fingers, “Why should I?”

“Sherlock!” his friend hissed, “Have you not even considered the notion she might also resent the concept of matrimony as much as you?”

“Is that possible in women?” Sherlock quirked, “Good Scot! I sound like my brother.”

“Your own sister is still dragging her feet through her engagement to the Tewkesbury boy on what...a year almost now?” the doctor tapped his cane on the floor thoughtfully.

Sherlock huffed, “Enola is not a woman.”

In the eyes of the law she was...she needed only pick a wedding date and commit to it.

Sherlock wouldn’t have the luxury of a long engagement. The wedding was next week and he had quickly agreed to the contract. He would marry under the financial clutch of his brother...Mycroft threatened to cut off all entire bank in regards to Sherlock’s unpaid drug debts...

After the cold leads to the trail of Madame Moriarty...the detective found little sleep in the night...Sherlock befell the unfortunate antidote of cocaine to help him stay awake and opiates to keep him asleep...John loyally helped those sweating events and threatened to put him in an institute if he didn’t cease his regular consumption.

Perhaps, John wondered, Mycroft was intending to cease the draining of his pocket by using a wife to tame Sherlock’s spending habits. John decided then and there that Mycroft truly was an idiot.

“You’ve not told me her name...” the doctor said in the long silence.

Sherlock looked at his feet and sighed, “Y/N...her name is Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

The surname was familiar to the doctor, however not personally.

John nodded gradually and scratched his moustache, “Mrs Y/N Holmes of Baker Street...it’s got a little ring to it. A simple lift to the breath don’t you think?” he mused.

The other man glared at him, he didn’t like John making fun of the situation he’d been coerced into.

He deflected, licking his lips, “Mary has grown fat.”

John cackled at the poor insult, “Swollen with my child. I’m glad you have finally noticed. I look forward to seeing your future wife just as ‘fat’ one day too.”

“Please John, my ingestion!” Sherlock shuddered, cupping his lips.

The cane tapped again at the floor, “Surely she isn’t so unsightly?” his friend asked.

“She is most plain,” Sherlock complained, before he peeled through the papers at his feet and held up a board of hard card to his friend, “Here...my brother thought it kind to send me a portrait, to invoke my eagerness, but as is clear...my mind is not swayed.”

John took the photo carefully and moved his spectacles from his pocket to his face, he gazed upon your printed face in the glow of the warm orange fire.

The doctor raised a brow and snorted, “This girl? Sherlock...I believe your disregard to the union prevents you from seeing her true potential. I think you will make fine and handsome children.”

Sherlock looked on to the fire and continued to shake his head stubbornly, “I need a case Watson...not a wife...”

The doctor felt his resolve failing, he donned his hat and scarf, “Perhaps she is your next case...after all why would anyone agree to marry you?” he stood and left Sherlock to ponder until the embers of the fireplace burnt out black and the last light of the room was succeeded by the wretched dawn.

09:00am Monday 5th May 1890 Saint Marylebone Parish Church, London, England.

A lengthy breath escaped your chest as your fingers pinched your pearly white gloves.

Twenty was a scary age...you walked a line of spinsterhood.

This was it...

You were lucky to be here. Lucky to have this offering...the circumstances were complicated. You were illegitimate but nonetheless still cared for by your father’s parents. They pitied you and your past. Good Christians with empathetic hearts, they chose to raise you when your father abandoned you for a wife who despised the concept of living beneath he same roof as her husband’s bastard.

You were grateful and honest and polite and strived to please your paternal grandparents. When they presented to you a engagement contract, you dared not waste or drain any more of their kind financial generosity.

You were amazed by the name also on the document...

You were being asked to marry The Sherlock Holmes, London’s notorious detective.

You were stunned. You accepted.

His brother, the dealer of the contract was a friend of your grandfather and had been the proposer of the deal. The two men seemed to always sit together in parliament house.

You hadn’t even met your husband to be...today during the ceremony would be the very first time.

As your grandmother fixed your veil in the carriage ride to the church, you caressed the front of the bible in your lap. You prayed to God this marriage was right and meant to be.

“You are not as pretty as my daughter’s, but as our ward after all these years I am sure you will be a suitable bride to Mr Holmes,” she muttered under her breath.

Her husband happily scolded, “Nonsense! Our granddaughter will be a perfect match to the greatest detective of London.”

He leant beside you and pinched your nose under the veil, “My little girl is the prettiest princess today,” his fingers laced with yours and kissed the back of your gloves hand with his silver beard covered lips.

“Thankyou grandfather.”

The corner of your lips jerked up. He was the warmer of the two...but it was confided that your grandmother who sat sullen faced in front of you was merely putting in a facade. Your grandfather told you early at breakfast that your grandmother wept last night, sad to see you off to be a true married woman of society.

The accomplished their task, raising a young lady of good standing and half decent breeding.

The carriage came to a screeching halt.

The cold breeze hit your face as your grandparents climbed out of the carriage door. Your delicate gloves fingers reached out and were supported by your grandfather.

You passed your bible to your grandmother who exchanged them for a modest bouquet of flowers and lace.

The chapel was massive but you knew there would be only a small audience.

Your feet climbed the stairs and patiently waited for your escort. Your grandfather’s wobbly knees had to rely on you and his walking cane. Your grandmother climbed behind him to insure he didn’t fall and hurt himself or drag you down too.

The wooden church doors were open a jar.

The whistling wind made you feel like you were entering a funeral rather your own wedding. You were not opposed to matrimony but the dead silence and stares at the front of the pews made you blood feel cold...

A gentleman you knew as Mycroft Holmes was sitting in the front pew and rose to attention as you were entering.

There was three other men standing at the edge of the room.

The priest, and the groom and his best man.

Your husband to be was handsome from the distance you could see if him. His lips remained stern in a flat line however and his brows appeared knitted, perhaps he was...displeased?

Sherlock Holmes was accompanied by his infamous companion...Doctor John Watson. A war veteran.

A woman you had never met was mirroring his position to the left side of the church, your chosen maid of honour...but as she turned the slight curve of her belly spoke out... pregnant. A matron of honour.

Your grandfather clenched your arm and kissed the side of your head. You began your steady approach down the island with your grandmother now leading in front to find her seating on the front left pew.

You tried to not share too directly at your future husband’s frown. Perhaps he was tired or not aware he was frowning at all and just deep in his thoughts.

You passed your bouquet to your matron of honour.

Your arms felt shaky, this was it...a lifelong commitment ceremony.

When you paused before the alter, the priest bowed his head and asked your grandfather, “Do you giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

He gruffly cleared his throat “I do,” and turned you to face him, his hands squeezed your arms gently before he carefully lifted your veil above your face and over your flower covered hair. He smiled softly, tears beaded in the corner of his eyes. He leant closer and kissed your cheek, in your ear he whispered gently, “God bless my darling girl.”

Sherlock was quickly removing his white glove and pocketing it in his inner breast side blazer.

Your grandfather turned you around to face the priest. He placed your right hand into the holy man’s who then carefully removed the glove you wore and passed your naked fingers into the warm clammy hands of Sherlock Holmes. His reaction to your bare face was out of surprise...you did not know if his wide dark blue eyes were a good sign or not.

The priest tied a small white ribbon around your wrists, connecting you and Sherlock in symbolism.

He turned back and floated up to the stairs of his stand. He opened his holy book and said out to the very small group witnessing, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man...and this woman in holy matrimony.”

You felt your throat tighten and your mouth dry as Sherlock’s thumb softly rubbed the back of your hand. Your eyes glanced over to his face...his frown had disappeared, he was wearing the smallest of smiles. Relief swept through you, he was happy for now and that is all you cared for.

As the priest continued his holy speech on the reason of marriage you thought about your duties as a wife. You would now look after your husband as you have cared for your grandfather. You would bring forth a hot meal for dinner and host luncheons with other married couples of society. You would rub his sore feet and shoulders and prepare him a bath when he required it after his days of long tiring work. And most importantly...you would lay back and take him within to create children. You would spend the rest of your life expected to make your husband feel appreciated and loved. You were to be his other half, his Eve to his Adam.

He had the important duty of caring for you financially and supporting your future children and their education.

If he was a detective you knew his intelligence meant you would make very brilliant minded babes. You would make society proud.

You had seen Sherlock face in the papers but they were of illustrations that did not capture the colour and humanism of himself

“-Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined,” the priest softly finished.

You felt Sherlock sigh and when his thumb stopped rubbing your hand, you tried to return the same rubbing onto his fingers.

It was a silent language of greeting and comfort...

‘hello, how do you do?’

‘I am well, thankyou.’

“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”

The groom glanced over his shoulder and his lips appeared to tighten...they fell into a frown and his hand grip loosened...was he...your heart deflated...was he not wanting to marry you?

You tried to restrain your emotions.

The priest peered down at you both, “Kneel.”

Sherlock and you with your hands still touching and bound slowly bend to your knees before the altar. The holy man pulled out a bowl and pinched his hands into the holy water.

He flicked both of your faces as he spoke, “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful...”

There was no way you could mention how you were concerned Sherlock’s reaction might’ve been worldly. He remained silent to.

Your grandmother once told you how people who marry often do not love each other until years later. It happened to her, so you had within your heart the trust that as long as you put in the effort to be the perfect wife, Sherlock would eventually grow his love for you.

The Priest smiled at you both and nodded his head,

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes wilt thou have this woman Y/N Y/L/N to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”

Your eyes glanced to his face, he appeared, flushed.

“Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Your groom looked over your hands and then glanced up at your face, his throat bobbed, “I will.”

His thumb rubbed your hand again.

You tried to smile...it was hard when he didn’t appear as enthusiastic about the union as you had hoped. It reminded you this was really just a contract between his brother and your grandfather.

“Y/N Y/L/N wilt thou have this William Sherlock Scott Holmes to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”

Your eyes stared up at the Priest who was dictating the vow, “Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Your voice for a moment caught in your throat. You looked to the floor and nodded, “I will.”

The priest then stood away and proclaimed, “Now ye have proclaimed to god, now tis time you proclaim your vows to yourselves.”

You felt Sherlock tighten his grip and faced him still kneeling beside him, his voice wavered as he proclaimed, “I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, take thee Y/N Y/L/N to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

A pause in the air reminded you it was now your turn to repeat the solemn vow.

And for a split second...you wondered if agreeing would be a sin to god...you would do this all...but love...could you love a man who you did not know, honour a man who may not love you?

You nodded and properly looked into his eyes, trying to vow earnestly.

“I Y/N Y/L/N take thee William Sherlock Scott Holmes to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

He glanced away and his lips parted, it was if he wanted to say something to you...before he closed them and eyed the priest. Ah yes...you were still in a holy ceremony. Talking could come later.

The priest nodded to you both and gestured to your hands.

“Now the groomsmen may please administer the ring.”

Sherlock removed his other glove.

The man who stood behind him, John, stood carefully forward after stealing a small ring from his breast pocket and passed it to Sherlock.

The priest untied your hands and your groom delicately took your left hand. He removed your other glove and pocketed it.

“With this ring I thee wed,” He pinched your forth finger before sliding the cold golden band on, it felt slightly loose, “With my body I thee worship.”

You finally took the time to actually look at his full face as he vowed to you. His blue eyes were dark and sparkling like a night sky or a ravenous stormy sea. In the corner of his right eye was a fleck of brown...oh yes...the stony sea side by the waters, they were his solemn eyes covered by curtains of thick dark lashes.

“And with all my worldly goods I thee endow,” he trailed off softly.

His lips were thin, wet and soft...his skin flushed in a soft pink but not overly obvious, his neck was a shade lighter to his ears and cheeks.

You heard the distant hum of the priest standing above you both.

The groom cleared his throat, “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The priest clapped his hands and joyously announced, “For as much as William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Y/N Y/L/N have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, rise now as Mr and Mrs Holmes. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Everyone in the church echoed the everlasting word...“Amen.”

Sherlock and you rose steadily back to your feet. He let go of your fingers. Your hands limply fell aside. You turned back to your grandparents and smiled.

You were now a married woman before God.

The holy man brought around the script of lawfully paper to sign your name and the names of your witnesses. The parchment was laid across a small serving table where there was a small ink well and pen waiting.

Out of necessity you went to the table first.

When you signed your maiden name and then scripted out your new surname, you were now under the law of man the wife of the British detective. Your eyes fluttered shut...it was done...you were no longer considered the poor bastardess soul that had been disowned by both parents...you were now The Mrs Holmes. Wife and a future mother of Holmes sons and daughters.

Your matron of honour came closer to your side and politely smiled, “Mary Watson, my husband is the groomsmen. You are most beautiful and I must demand Sherlock cherishes you rightfully.”

She was a beautiful. Her gown at a light blue cooled her wild complexion. With her blonde hair and rosy pink cheeks, she glowed in her motherly state.

You returned the grin, “A pleasure Mrs Watson, thankyou for being here on this special day.”

She leant across you and signed the paper before laying her hands on your shoulders thoughtfully. You looked over your shoulder at the man who was now your husband.

He was shaking hands among the male participants. He was smiling. Your souls felt relieved. When he looked at you, the was something strange...he looked you entirely up and down... His face dropped, back to his deep thoughts.

He bowed his head to you before he brushed passed you leant over the certificate to officiate his name, however before the pen could meet the paper there was a persistent cry.

“I object!” Screamed this mousy tone that echoed the chapel walls, “Sherlock! I am sorry I am late! Stop! Stop the wedding!”

The sound of running feet screeched along the stone floor.

Everyone’s face split into shock as a boy who was a little younger than you for appearance sake came racing down the pews.

Yet as the boy ran closer, you could see the hat fall of his head and a wave of beautiful brown locks flowed down their back...her back...it was a girl in dirty boys clothes. She looked a kin to a chimney sweep with the amount of spot over her face and her hands and shirt.

“Please!” she heaved onto her knees to catch her breath, “Do not continue!” she raised her filthy palms in praying pleas to the priest.

“What is the meaning of this!?” your grandfather said losing his temper at the foul interruption of a seemingly happy union.

“Enola!” the two Holmes brothers shouted in union. They looked to each other accusingly before looking back at the girl.

The young woman glanced between you and Sherlock and started shaking her head.

“Enola,” Mycroft hissed and grabbed the girls arm roughly, shaking her slightly, “look at the state of you! What is the meaning of this? You were not permitted to attend and yet you come here uninvited nonetheless!?”

You were frightful of the way Mycroft shouted at her and brutally shook her. The young woman appeared scattered, she looked at you and then to Sherlock again.

“You were too late Enola,” your husband frustratingly sighed, “Mycroft let her go, this is my fault.”

Too late...wait....what...

You were stunned...speechless and confused...

Did Sherlock...have another love? Did this young creature hold his affections?

Mycroft loosened his grip. She sprung away from the older Holmes, “You are married, perhaps before God who I know you don’t care for!” And dashed passed you and waved the certificate with only your name on the paper.

“What blasphemy is this?” your Grandmother now announced with annoyance.

“But see?” The young woman named Enola ignored her and ran up to Sherlock, “Your name is not here, so legally you are not married Sherlock, you can stop this!”

His nose flared and his face darkened to pink. You could hear how his knuckles cracked as he made them into fists. He was furious. His angry eyes flashed at you and back at the girls.

You felt stunted...this girl was right...

Your chest deflated...you were not married, no, you were still in fact Y/N Y/L/N the bastard daughter of a Lord who was not permitted the privileged respect of your legitimate cousins and siblings. You were not a honourable woman still...you were still covered and stained with your parents sins.

The comforting hand of Mary Watson touched your hand. You started trembling.

Your heart ached. Your hopes to be veiled in a honouring title as a wife were diminishing by the second.

“I can help pay off your debts when I marry,” she quickly spurted, “Do not let Mycroft rule over you like he has done all these years! Do not marry a woman you clearly do not love Sherloc-”

“Enola!”

You gasped. You jumped as his voice bellowed and boomed through your ears and throughout the stone walls of the church. This dramatic scene was incredibly unorthodox and the priest himself seemed amiss and confused on how to handle the audience of the church.

“Enough!” Sherlock angrily hissed and shook his head.

He tore the paper from her hands and slammed it down on the priests stand before gracelessly signing his name.

“There!” he spat and slapped the paper against the priests chest, “It is done!”

He proceeded to storm out of the church leaving you and the rest of those in attendance in shock. “Sherlock! Wait!” Mrs Watsons husband shouted as he gathered his hat, coat and cane from a pew and hobbled out hurriedly after him.

Your chest tightened...you felt a rush of air escape you. You felt rather like your entire body had been spun around too many times. The embarrassment you felt before the audience was horrible. Tears were watering up into your eyes.

You felt abandoned.

It was quite obvious to you and everyone in the church...

Sherlock Holmes did not want to marry you. Why were you so unlovable?

You felt your legs grow wobbly. Carefully with the kind support of Mrs Watson you sat down in a pew.

Your grandmother did not look at you. She stared at the cross hanging above the ceiling and sighed. Her wrinkled lips turned downward. She did not approve of your behave or his.

This wedding was a distasteful event.

Your grandfather was shaking and needed to also sit down. The priest and Mycroft helped him to the opposite pew chairs. His hand was strictly clenching his chest.

And everyone but yourself was glaring at the young girl in boys clothes...

“Enola,” your matron of honour mumbled, “I think it best you leave until you are ready to apologise to your brothers wife...”

Your breath hitched and you gasped out of shock.

So she was not a old girlfriend romantically begging for love from your now husband...no instead the name came ringing through your ear. Enola Holmes...of course...the less experienced Holmes detective...

You dared not speak. You knew your tongue might be venomous and hot as a flame. You were in shock and a state of silent rage and sadness. You could’ve slapped the stupid looking girl whose face was full of surprise and regret.

You weren’t entirely sure how to express yourself. You felt humiliated and rejected. All those years of silence and a straight face after what your father had said to you...it broke you...

Your own husband did not want you. We’re you that much unlovable? We’re you cursed to feel this way?

Your grandfather was the only man in your life left that you felt honest adoration from...and his time was coming soon to an end in his old age.

You muffled your sobs into you gloves as you heard Enola run out of the church.

It was your brother in law who then came to kneel before you and hold out to you a handkerchief, “My sincerest apologies dear sister. I dared not think Sherlock or my sister could be so wicked a pair until now. All I can beg is you accept your role and keep your sweet countenance.”

You wondered suddenly why he was not the brother you married instead. Before you focused on such a thing you remembered that lusting for another man, your husband’s brother, was a grave mortal sin and incredibly improper before a holy priest.

Taking the cloth you sighed and covered your face, “Th-thankyou Mr Holmes, I do hope to make your brother very...” you croaked and tried not to break into tears again, to avoid them you swallowed hard, “very happy.”

You took a cool deep breath and forced a smile onto your lips. It hurt. Your cheeks stretched and painfully ticked.

He nodded and smiled, “I am sure you will my dear, I am sure you will, allow me the opportunity to escort you to your cab, your grandfather...”

You both looked at the older man whose anger had made him out of breath, “is still unwell.”

You said your subtle goodbyes. You kissed your grandfather’s balding scalp and scratching softly at his beard. He kissed the inside of your palm. His eyes watered, he didn’t want this for you. He looked down with shame.

In your eyes now you understood be would be the last man to have ever loved you.

Nodding you accepted his arm and thus concluded the wedding...

11:23am Monday 5th May 1890, 221 Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

Mycroft had hailed you a cab as your husband so nobly left into the one that had been rented for the both of you.

Your brother in law loaded you inside and had said he would look after your grandparents to make sure they got back to their own home safe and soundly.

You closer the curtain to the window and let your heart sob.

A sad bride on her wedding day, how terribly melancholy and cliché....

You didn’t expect romantic puppy dog love found in frivolous novellas, however you never expected such humiliation and horror to strike you on such an important date. This would be something you’d never forget...

The abandonment of another person in your life.

You were in a state of utter distress. You clenched your skirts tightly beneath your fingers. Yoh violently tore at your veil and the pins in your hair that held the specific style.

As the carriage cam to a halt the driver called out your destination, you pulled the curtain back and looked at the street.

221 Baker Street...your new home.

You opened and slid out of the carriage by yourself. You lifted your skirts, avoiding the black mud that your shoes squished into.

You climbed the front stairs of the building gradually and knocked at the door.

You waited five minutes before resorting to desperately banging. The horse cab had taken off and there was no going back.

What you desired most was a chance to sit down again and collect yourself before you sobbed hysterically on the street in the public eye. You already held the strange case of some being still clad in your white wedding gown.

When the door finally creaked open you fought every bone in your body not to storm your way through inside.

A wrinkle hand pushed the door open, followed by a steady voice of an older woman, “Why, hello my dear!” she said, “You must be the new Mrs Holmes then?”

A woman with wide eyes too close together with glasses and a loud clattering chatelaine on her waist opened the way to you.

Her hand launched out and tugged you inside by your wrist.

“Come, come in, please!”

You let her pull you inside the building and shut the door behind you.

As she locked the front door she spun to welcome you in an unexpected hug.

You normally would be shocked by such impropriety of embracing a stranger so quickly. But in your state of distress you leant closer into her arms and sniffled.

She pulled away, “My dear,” she gasped, “It is your wedding day, why the tears?” Your wet eyes went round and round as she jittered about you, admiring your dress and pinching at the soft material. “I did not expect you to arrive here so early. Oh and where are my manners! I’m Mrs Hudson dearest, I am your land lady and housekeeper.”

You fiddled with the ring now solid on your finger. You bowed softly to her, “My name is Y/N I don’t expect you to call me Mrs Holmes, Mrs Hudson, please call me as you will be my name,” you mumbled and wiped your eyes. They were pink and puffy.

She clicked her tongue with dismay.

“I presume Sherlock has brought you to this state...” The elderly woman smiled sadly, her wrinkles spread out, she took your arm and led you up a flight of stairs.

“Darling, I am just happy you are here. Your husband can be such a bully sometimes, but don’t tell him I said so. Your belongings arrived early this morning and I was just finishing putting your belonging away in your room.”

“Mrs Hudson,” you whimpered, “thankyou greatly for I have had a trying day...”

She gave you a copy of the home key to the 221B door.

Inside you were received with a scent of ink and tobacco. A very masculine smell. Clearly this was the home of your husband.

“Sherlock can be quite the messy tenant so I pray you will be fast enough to clean up after him,” Mrs Hudson stated bluntly.

“He has all his things thrown around the apartment and his excuse is always it has been done for a bloody case,” she made a high pitch sound and quickly covered her lips, “Forgive me dear, I don’t usually swear.”

You smiled sweetly and sighed, “Do not ask that of me Mrs Hudson,” you shook your head. Your grandfather had a terrible habit of doing many deeds and saying many things unfit for the ears of a lady.

She sighed with relief and clapped her hands. By taking your arm once more, she guided you through the homestead and presented you the premises.

Here there was a fireplace in the living room, nearby a bathtub had been carried from one of the bedrooms, it’s linens already prepared and laid over the copper surface. A fresh bucket of coal and wood sat beside the fireplace layout. The floor covered in a fine carpet and the curtains were the thickest of velvet.

“Kitchen is down stairs, shared by us both dear but I supply most meals as is the tenancy agreement so you needn’t burden yourself with those tasks, I do ask you wash your own linens. We have a alley line out the windows.”

You nodded as the woman kindly spoke to you and introduced you to your new life.

It was when you passed two doors you realised there was two bedrooms.

“Sherlock is sometimes a overly private person. Especially to the contents of his cases and clients. He owns the only key to his bedroom so I’m afraid I cannot show you his room until he arrives. This one, where Doctor Watson once resided is now yours.”

You opened it up and noted the empty trunks around the room which Mrs Hudson had emptied earlier.

“Doctor Watson lived here?” you asked over your shoulder as you stepped into the quarters.

You visually took in the fine canopy bed and a small desk and wardrobe in the corner with a large window that led out to the alley wash line, a balcony area and stair case up to the roof above.

Mrs Hudson went around and closed the suitcases and trunks gently, one by one. You started to explore which drawers she had placed what undergarments and jackets and what dresses had been hung in the wardrobe and which books she had stacked onto your desk and where she placed your accessories on your vanity.

You were not surprised by the condition of a separate sleeping quarter. Your grandparents slept in separate rooms...but that was because your grandfather was a loud snorer and suffered from nightmares of his time in the wars.

This marriage, you worried, would also lack a lot of physical contact...

“I am going to carry these empty trunks up to the attic dear,” Mrs Hudson stated as she lifted the empty wooden boxes. Your eyes widened and before you could offer assistance she had moved spritely out.

You opened the window to your room, allowing light into the space. You sneezed. It seemed the particles in the light showed Mrs Hudson forgot to dust the area.

You opened the small doors. The noise of the outdoor city crept in. The smell of the salty mud in the street tickled your nose.

Intrigued to enjoy more of your space you came out to look more around your home. It was smaller than what you came from, that did not make you any less grateful. This would be better than living in the gutter of the slums, you were sure.

The idea you now had a home of your very own where you could independently invite people over for tea and luncheon was exciting, your husband be damned if he didn’t allow.

12:07pm Monday 5th May 1890, 221 Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

When Mrs Hudson returned after removing the last suitcase and storage box, you politely requested she help you out of your wedding dress...

Her grey eyes widened at your request, “Did you not wish to await Sherlock’s return my dear? Traditionally the husband loves to take of this gown of all gowns.”

After his actions today...you were not sure you wanted to please him or suffer his very untraditional behaviour. You doubt he would be kind or patient enough to unbutton the line down your back.

You shook your head, “Thankyou for your suggestion Mrs Hudson, but my mind remains solid, I wish to resort to a dressing gown. I don’t intend to welcome any guests today other than yourself and my husband.”

Not willing to question your choice, she smiled warmly, “Alrighty dear, turn around then.”

Her wrinkly fingers pinched at your spine line of buttons starting from your neck downward.

“Forgive my prying dear...may I ask how the service went? I had expected you and Mr Holmes to have arrived together.”

You sighed and pinch the bridge of your nose. The moment you arrived you sensed this line of questioning would eventually occur...

“It was sorely interrupted by my sister in law...I believe she was attempting to save her brother from the wails of...” you smirked, and sarcastically drawled, “wedded bliss...”

You could hear the old woman cackle behind you, “Ah that Enola Holmes is a trouble maker and their mother if I might say so myself.”

“I did not witness his mother at the ceremony?” you noted openly, you presumed their parents had passed away.

“Oh no, probably not. Eudoria like a ghost in the walls some days. Very secretive that woman but good company I assure you, a comedian.”

How unusual to state so openly their mother was a trouble maker and yet good company...was such a thing possible?

“She...Enola...revealed his...true desires...or lack of...to be my husband...he left the chapel in a great frustration.”

Mrs Hudson’s worrisome tone opened out to you, “Oh no my dear, I am sorry to hear such a thing...I did say earlier some days he can be bully so I must pray he doesn’t treat you like that furthermore.”

You nodded sharply, “Perhaps my husband needs a bigger bully to tame his actions. Maybe he needs a good humbling?” you snorted a laugh. You felt a sudden pause in Mrs Hudson. You sensed her stepping away. Her sudden silence disturbed you

You looked over your shoulder to observe her but what came in view was a elderly woman gaping at a hard face man at the front door...Sherlock.

“Mrs Hudson, I do not believe it is a duty of yours to undress my bride and so I must find myself saying, I forbid you to touch her so intimately again,” he quipped as he shed his blazer and hung his top hat on the coat rack.

The room had become cold despite the bright sun shining into the apartment.

You felt exposed with your back flared out.

You turned your body for your front to face him.

The housekeeper snorted, “If you hadn’t abandoned her in the chapel this morning perhaps you would’ve been here to do it yourself.”

Your jaw fell open at her boldness. The man grimaced and smiled tightly with fire in his eyes, “Mrs Hudson?” he asked sweetly, “Get out of my apartment. Now.”

It was scary and yet so calm as he said it. His tone was full of a unspoken threat. The elder woman jerked up her chin and nudged him as she left the main room.

Sherlock swiftly locked the door behind her.

“So...Mrs Holmes...” He muttered bitterly, “You appear to be in need of a hand there with your wedding dress. Come here...wife...so I may relieve you of your strains.”

He spat the word ‘wife’ through gritted teeth. You did not feel safe...

“I...I’m sorry for what I said,” you mumbled, looking away from him as he stepped slowly closer to you.

He looked at you with a harsh face. His finger twirled in the air...silently demanding you turn.

He might as well have slapped you with the way you gasped. You bit your lip tightly to not cry now in front of him again. You turned away from him and began to pull down the bodice of your gown.

“Do not be,” he scoffed lightly, “You were merely stating what lay in your mind...”

You felt him behind you, hovering over you. You felt his fingers dug into the strings of your corset.

You pushed the bodice down to your hips. You untied the string of your bustle. When the springy cage collapsed, your white skirts fell passed your hips and down to your ankles.

“To this day,” Sherlock hummed, “I seek when women return to the corseting stays of only their chest. I don’t like pulling all these strings loose.”

You nodded slowly. You wanted to not disagree with him or voice your opinion. You had made the mood direly cold and you felt it was your duty to make him happy once again.

You stood from foot to foot nervously, “I had the means to merely shred my dress and not my underlings, you needn’t remove my corset-”

He cut you off blunt and brashly, “I want to see my wife naked and I need to pull these strings before I lose patience and cut them off, so please stay still.”

“Naked?” you gasped as he tugged roughly, making the whale bone loosen further around your waist and hips. You lost your balance and fell forward onto the lounge.

He twirled you around to face him, “Yes, naked,” and pushed the corset up and over your head. You felt suddenly like a trapped animal on the cushion lounge. The chemise was light and sheer...it did little to hide your breasts....

He got to his knees in front of you and started to unbutton your shoes.

“You know how to perform your wifely duties yes? You do not require an anatomy lesson I hope? A woman of sublime education should know how one copulates with another.”

You clenched your thighs tightly together, tol afraid to move as he stared up at you. Very tiny movement of your nodding made him hum approvingly.

You were feeling hot...sweat beading at the back of your neck. You were not sure whether you were ready to have him so carnally especially in the middle of the day. You were unsure if this was appropriate to be doing at all.

As he removed both your shoes...his hands tenderly pulled at your white stockings....his hands creeped up your legs and pulled at the ribbon garters... Your bare feet felt cold to the air.

You jumped as the feeling of his lips pressed to one of your knees.

It was the first kiss he ever gave you.

His hands were wayward and you frigidly laid still. You were still too scared to move. His hands cupped your covered breasts softly.

The breath in your chest was quickly stolen out in a gasp and a unpreventable shaking moan.

His face rose up and his nose nuzzled to yours. It was so intimate and sudden...you were frightened and turned your face away to shudder...

“W-wait,” you softly begged.

He pulled back and huffed, “Yes, you’re corrct, I am overly dressed as well it would seem.”

He pushed up to his feet and plucked at the buttons of his vest. His finger unkindly tore his cravat from his throat and thumbed down his trouser lifting suspenders.

You felt your knees rise up to your chest. You were unsure if he wanted you to help, if that was a part of the duties of the bedroom....you were still not in the bedroom however...

“I believe this copulation would be easier in the bedroom, my dear Mrs Holmes?”

You didn’t understand straight away what he meant...you were frazzled...surely men who hated their wives didn’t do this? Had you pleased him so quickly that he didn’t care about whatever you’d don’t to frustrate him?

He looked at you dumbly and tilted his head, glancing to your bedroom door.

His hand held out to you, “Shall we?”

Your mouth felt impossibly dry but your loins grew a buzz and you felt a need to self pleasure...was this lust allowed in a marriage bed?

You carefully rose to your feet.

He pulled you closer and closer to your room and finally closer to your own bed.

He gently pushed your shoulders down for you to sit on the soft mattress

He removed his shoes and pushed down his loose trousers. His breeches, he started to unbutton. You looked away from his face and up to the ceiling.

You heard his breeches hit the floor. You didn’t want to look at his intimates... He shed his shirt and started to pinch at your chemise.

“Lift your arms up.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see his bare chest.

You were trembling with your limbs above your head. You didn’t know this man...he was Sherlock Holmes the great detective but that is all you knew.

And you were letting him see you in a state of your most open self...

He pulled the material over your head and he groaned as he gazed at your totally nude chest. Your nipples hardened in the cold breeze wharfing through the open window. Your arms fell to quickly cover your chest, you were too cold and shy to be so exposed like this to him.

He noticed your shivering. He turned away and went to close the window and shut the curtains. With strange admiration you noticed his tight and strong backside and thighs.

You flushed and accidentally whimpered when he turned around and you saw his cock. It wasnt like the statues in the museum...nor the medical books you perused..

It was...larger, and brutish.

You bit your lip and clenched your thighs again.

Would be hurt you? You were curious as a young girl about sex like many. Among your friends you had heard that the larger the male member the more agonising coitus would be.

You quickly recalled a time as a girl your grandfather took you to a horse auction and a stallion had broken his way into the mares pen. The great black beast look the white squealing mare most violently.

Would Sherlock pin his body above yours and bite the back of your neck to keep you beneath him...

You gulped loud enough for him to hear.

His hand pushed your shoulders back slowly.

“Spread those pretty thighs Mrs Holmes, show me what is now mine...”

Your fingers dug into your arms as you held yourself. Pathetically, tears came creeping out the button ducts of your orbs and escaped down your cheeks.

You swallowed the sob building in your chest. You didn’t think this intimacy would be so frightful and terrorising...

He stared down at you with a mean smirk. He scoffed and shook his head. He touched your knees and helped force them apart. Your spread thighs revealed your hairy centre at the crease of your drawers crotch...

He hummed approvingly. He stuck two fingers into his mouth and sucked them loudly and lewdly...

You choked on your tears and covered your face with your hands unable to watch anymore...you felt everything nonetheless...

Those fingers trailed across your thigh and tapped at your peaking labia. Your eyes felt wide.

A light shriek jumped from your throat as his hot mouth latched to your neck and you gasped while his tongue tickled your flesh.

You felt a single finger wiggled its way around your pearl bundle of pleasure before trailing and prodding into the space of your body...the hole. Your vaginal entrance...

“A hairy pussy cat...I might need to change that...”

You didn’t understand what filth he was suggesting. You knew your pussy referred to your entrance but to change it made no sense to you...

His free hand gently pulled your wrists away and pushed your hands to sit above your head.

With his soft mouth he wetly trailed his tongue along your skin arouse down to your fuzzy covered underarm and across to the swell of your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut with difficulty as you felt the tip of his nose nudge your teat...

His hot breath covered your nipple.

It stirred a strange, painful warm down your belly and arousal between your legs. You felt the wet essences of pleasure seep from yourself...

You shuddered loudly and groaned into the head of his curly hair as his finger pushed inside, stretching you out. You blanched at the thought remembering his thick cock was worth four of his fingers at this moment.

The sound of his finger was squelching and wet.

His second finger flickered to get inside of you. You tore away your mouth and loudly groaned as he entered and spread your insides.

Your belly felt tight. You let out a moan.

He kissed along your jaw and pushed his mouth over your lips. You didn’t know what to do. It was like he was sucking at your lips and licking them with his tongue.

You felt your experience come to light. You and on some occasions of youth touched yourself intimately in the dead of the night when all in the manor were asleep...your soft sighs muffled by your own pillows were heard only by yourself. The scratching sounds of your hips rolling against a thick blanket between your legs were maybe mistaken for a skittering rat in the walls.

You urges would decease the touches when you were reminded by your own senses that your genitals were not your prize but your future husband’s to touch. It was a sin to steal what would belong to him.

And as you laid beneath Sherlock and recalled those desperate nights of silly humping you bucked your hips into the touch of his fingers filling and stretching your way.

It was good to be a virgin...you didn’t want to be a slut ...you worried he would see you as many saw you.... Like your mother a prostitute....

You kept yourself pure for this moment but for the first time you wondered if that was a good choice. Was the lack of experience...a good thing for men?

And after sometime of him thrusting his fingers in and out, you felt the soft hot skin of something touching your hole....the tip of his cock.

“Sh-sherlock,” you worriedly whispered, “Please...w-wait.”

Your husband grunted and lifted his hand away from your hole to run his thumb across your tear wet cheek.

“You are aware it will sting...nothing has been inside you like this before.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. He kissed your wobbling mouth and used the tips of his fingers to press on your clit. He rubbed you slowly and realigned his tip to your hole.

“Allow me to open your doors with my key, wife. Fill your home with children.”

You shouted up at the ceiling as he thrust hard and fast into your body. Your lower body felt like a hot poker was ripping up into you.

You gasped and choked on a silent squeak before a few seconds past and the air filled your lungs making you scream and cry out as your life changed forever...

It was like he had cut you inside. And the pressure had not left you. His cock was dug deep and snuggly buried inside your tight hole.

You hit him. Your fists banged his chest with the little strength you had left.

“Stop! Get off me!” you wailed.

With bruising grip he held your arms down either side of your head. He was too strong for you to pull and push off. You sobbed out for your grandfather, so scared this would kill you.

His hips pulled back. You both gasped.

You groaned at the sight of his dick leaving you, covered in dark burgundy blood. It yellowed his pale member.

You felt sick and turned your head away into your covers.

“Please,” you begged, “Let me go.”

He sighed and shook his head, his mouth latched to your ear, “No...you can do this Y/N...this is the price all wives pay.”

He sheathed back inside of you. This time the burn of your walls was a little less.

The smell of metal was in the room. Your blood scent hit your nose finally. You could taste it in the back of your throat.

The way his hip bones punched down and roughly scrapped your pelvis made you hiss.

His mouth forced it’s way onto yours again in a passionate kiss. You whimpered and begged him to stop again as he thrusted inside. It hurt too much...you whined and sunk your teeth into his lips and caught the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck!” he roared and pulled back violently. His lips and yours covered in bright red blood in contrast to the red waves between your thighs.

“Get off!” you screamed again. You tugged your arms weakly. You tried pounding your heels into the back of his thighs.

He rose his hand high and you squeezed your eyes shut waiting for a blow...it did not come. You heard him yell angrily and hit the blanket instead.

He tired himself out of you, the force made you choke. The taste of his warm blood in between your teeth had you spitting aside the covers.

He pushed off the bed and stomped angrily out of the room, slamming your bedroom door shut. You sniffled and turned onto your side, crying as the burn between your legs struck you. You felt empty and sore. Like his hand had punched inside your body.

This is not at all what you anticipated as a married woman...

Why would any woman ever love their husband after cause such agony as that in their beds...

You reached out for a pillow and tugged it to your face. Your nose rubbed deep into the soft goose feathers and let your tears meld with your snot.

You curled up and clutched your sore side...

It was a pain comparable to your menses.

You prayed for help or someone like your grandfather or Mycroft to come and save you.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#wowb #wails of wedded bliss #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes enola holmes #henry sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill #dead dove do not eat

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lexsssu · 5 months

Text

Elixir (Jafar)

TAGS: Jafar/Dragoness!reader, aphrodisiacs, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver.

“...How could you let this happen? Wait, don’t answer that. I’m afraid if I hear what you have to say the headache will get even worse.”

“It’s not like I wanted or expected for something like this to happen, you know…”

“I swear to god, Sin. Drakon will have our heads if he finds out that we let this happen under our watch!”

“Okay, okay! I get it! But there’s nothing else we can do right now aside from help her with it! What she needs right now is you, Ja’far and don’t think I didn’t notice those looks you’ve been giving each other all the time even back in Sindria.”

The former assassin is unable to refute his liege’s words, biting his lower lip as he glared at the purple-haired man before sighing and rubbing his temples.

“...Are you sure there’s no other way?”

“Ja’far, she was poisoned with the [Elixir of A Thousand & One Nights] . There’s no way she can deal with it herself. Now, if you’re really that averse to helping then I can ask Masrur instead. The big guy’s been pent up lately plus he gets along quite well with her—”

“I’ll do it”

“Wonderful. I’ll take Masrur out with me while you deal with her in the meantime. Feel free to thank me later~”

“...Why do I even put up with you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ehehehe...our thing’s are kissing, Ja’far. Can you feel it? You’re so deep inside of me…”

How did he get in this situation again? One moment he was silently stepping into your room and the next thing he knew, he’s pinned beneath your soft weight on the carpeted floors.

Your smooth cheeks lit up with a flush of red and your golden eyes seemed even brighter now or maybe that was just because he was underneath you while you rode him without restraint. Small hands pinned his own rough and calloused ones above him, but it is the way you wrap so deliciously around him, how your hips gyrated and undulated as your moist depths took in every inch of him with gusto that prevented the adviser from even thinking about leaving this paradise.

It is an open secret in Sindria and especially within Sinbad’s circle of friends and subordinates how the adopted daughter picked up by Drakon caught the fancy of his most trusted aide. You were a young woman washed ashore with no memory of how you got here and had no one looking for her from wherever she may have come from. It was only natural that Sindria would welcome you with open arms.

The draconic features you sported quickly endeared you to Drakon and his wife, the currently childless couple adopting you overnight despite you being old enough to have children of your own. It is no surprise that Drakon treated you like a priceless treasure, a pearl within his palm.

And here Ja’far was, enjoying himself as you fucked yourself on his cock on the floor as if you were both nothing but a pair of wild animals with nothing on their minds except the need to procreate.

He knows he should have pushed you off before you even slipped the leaking tip of his cock in your dripping cunt. He should have restrained you as soon as he walked through those doors. He should not be snapping his own hips upwards in tandem with your own movements. He definitely should not be cumming inside you right now after your own climax has your pussy convulsing and squeezing his cock as if asking for his own essence.

The pale-haired man lost count of how many times he came, how many positions he had you in after the first time. All he knows is that you are now sleeping soundly within the cage of his arms on the plush bed, marks littering your bodies like paint on canvas.

“I guess this means I’ll have to take responsibility for you...Solomon, give me strength…”

You are unaware of his dread at having to face your father as only a blissful and sated smile decorated your lips while you basked in the warmth of his body.

#lexsssu writes #magi x reader #magi kingdom of magic #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi labyrinth of magic #jafar x reader #magi jafar x reader #crossposted on ao3

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Hey hope this is okay and still open✌🏻😅

Breeding kink with Hangman. If you've already done that, that's fine as well🥰

Thanks, hun, love your writing

Say no more anon I got you covered.

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous, Smut ahead.

I feel like I see a lot of breeding kinks for Bradley but never enough for Jake. Before we get into the smut of it all I think this would be a really good time to tag your fav fic writers that have written for Jake Hangman Seresin and the sudden breeding kink he finds he has when he finds the right partner. The love of his life.

I think Jake would have the sudden urge to procreate after he sees you doing something so incredibly mundane and motherly? LIke perhaps you were brought up watching your own mother make your fathers lunches in the morning while he got ready for work. So it's in your inherent nature, not because you feel like you have to, but because acts of service are your love language and it makes you just as happy. Maybe you just liked cooking and the smell of whatever you were concocting in the slow cooker is just all too much for Jake to not think about what you would be like as a mother.

So he catches himself thinking about the idea of you being all swollen and full of his cum far more often than he’d like to admit when he should really be focusing on flying the multi-million dollar fighter jet he's being the throttle of.

Jake catches himself at the Hard Deck, watching you play with his niece and nephew who have come to visit and thinking damn–what if that were your kids. His kids. He had to pause and take an exaggerated sigh before taking his shot in the game of pool he's playing with Bradley because he can't concentrate thinking about what you would look like pregnant with his child. He’d never really been the type of guy to think about a family–but then you came along and rocked his boat and now Jake's drowning in the thought of you being the mother of his children and he can't think or anything else.

“You wanna make me a mama baby?” You’re straddling Jake's lap, ever so painfully bouncing on his length. Your slick walls coating him in your arousal as he guides you up and down, up and down. Biting his bottom lip because you know he's been acting funny lately and you know it's because of his new found fetish. “Bet you'd be a great daddy, been calling you that for years.”

“Dont–” Jakes gritting his teeth, trying his best not to give into his temptations. “If I start, I won't be able to stop till you're carrying my child.” He says it almost like a threat, a warning lingering on his tongue while you sink low on his cock and lean in to whisper into his ear. Biting his earlobe gently as you smile against his flushed skin. Jake ran hot, you knew that, but he was as hot as a furnace with you naked on top of him, riding him at an agonisingly slow rhythm in the dimly lit living room.

“Make me a mama Hangman.” You chuckle. “Wanna have your babies, make you the best daddy in the world.” Jake knows hes fucked when you start picking up the pace, your hands sliding down his explosed chest before theyre coming up to squeeze at your tits, you know he likes it when you play with yourself. His own personal porno. He snaps when you moan his name, the nickname falling off your sweet lips like you were made just for him. “Jakey–”

He takes that as all her permission he needs to flood you, taking control as he shifts you up slightly on your knees, pulling you flush against his chest and holding your arms together behind your back. Jakes taken control. He fucking up into you, groaning every time he feels his tip kiss your cervix.

“Ahhh fugghh–yess, yess Jake!”

“Bet you’re gonna look all kinds of beautiful carrying our baby around mama.” Jake instantly falls in love with the term of endearment. “Gonna fuck a baby right into you mama.” Jakes in heaven, he really is. You're moaning above him, clenching him so good before you’re milking him to the point he's bone dry, he couldn't give you anymore if he tried. He was spent by the time his orgasm is draining him of every ounce of fluid in his body.

“I should go clean up–” You're dismounting, but Jake's following you, trapping you between him and the lounge as he lays you down. “What are you playing at Lieutenant?” Jake loves when you call him Lieutenant, you aren't navy so you don't often. But when you do, it sends his heart clear out of this world because he knows there is nothing but pride behind the status.

“I'm gonna make sure that when you pee on that silly little piss stick in a few weeks that it’ll be positive.” He's kissing your lips to silence your protest as he guides two of his digits into your folds, collecting the load he just pumped into you that had started to drip, before pushing it back into you.

“Mmmm, Jake–”

“Does that feel good mama?” Yep, he wasn't gonna stop calling you that, not now not ever. “You like when I finger fuck my cum into you?” He knows the answer he’ll get will be a whimper of pleasure just by the way your back is arching off the lounge. Your nails digging into his exposed back–surely to leave red raw lines trailing from his neck to the small of his back. “Gonna do this every damn time, make sure you're carrying our baby in no time.”

“What if I just want you to fuck me all over again?” You raise your brow, biting at your bottom lip as Jake stills, the idea hadnt popped into his head, but now that you had planted the seed his cock was standing to attention and raring to go again. Twitching at the thought of being buried in your cum soaked cunt. “I mean if we’re gonna do this we may as well do it right huh baby?” Jakes processing the idea and he's down for it, but he knows that he gave you everything he had in the first round.

Jakes kissing you, pulling his fingers out of your pussy before sucking the mix of his own cum and your arousal off his middle digits before jumping off the lounge, leaving you to follow him with your gaze as you sit up on your elbows.

“Jake?” You question as he disappears around the corner, shouting back at you in response. It only makes you laugh at the father of your future children.

“I need a gatorade, I'll be right back.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Strictly Scandalous // Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x reader

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poorwritingandstalecoffee · 2 months

Text

in vita, in media morte sumus. Ch.1

WC: 2K

Note: New series popping out! I really have no idea the direction of this series or how many chapters will be included. Also, updates will likely be spread out since I am in the middle of the semester. Therefore, patience will be greatly appreciated with how quickly I can shell out chapters. Also, this is only the second extended work I've done, so once again, patience and kindness are very much appreciated.

Note: Also, Desdemona is 19-20 years old. The terms of her education at Nevermore will be explained in the upcoming chapters. HINT: Nevermore has blended into a high school/college atmosphere for Outcasts using alternating schedules.

BUZZZ!

*Rustling*

“I.D.? … Hmm, here for the Addams girl?”

“What gave it away? The black or the black?”

“Tish, play nice, my love.”

“Ohh, a playful little barb never hurt anybody, dear. Now, where is our little dagger, hmm?”

“Right this way,” the guard grumbled with his head down. He pulled the radio to his mouth. “Open cell block 394.”

BUZZ!

Their banter reached your ears before you reached the end of the hall. It made you want to claw your ears to bloody shreds and stuff them down the throat of the guard that would not stop picking at his fucking fingers—flicking dirt from underneath the dead nailbed with the toothpick. Swipe, dig, flick. Swipe, dig, flick! Nothing like family to incite you into a murder spree.

Morticia and Gomez turned a corner and met you at the halfway point between cell block 394 and cell block 394-C. “Aahh! Our little dagger! Look at you in your little red uniform,” said Gomez, clapping his hands as if to seal the finality of his joy.

Morticia smirked at you and murmured, “Only the best for an Adams.” She winked at you behind the bars separating the cell blocks, making your lip twitch.

Despite your distaste for her overtly sweet manner, you did appreciate her respect for your reputation that has awarded you such an unmatched level of security—a uniquely colored uniform and private cell block, in fact—and fear that wafted off those you passed, including the guard who has yet to remove his eyes from your form. You suppose rightly so since you did have the propensity to pounce on those inside the prison with teeth slashing into their pliable flesh, even if your hands were permanently locked into a steel cage.

You watched the guard pocket his dirty toothpick and slowly speak into his radio while eyes remained watchful of you, “Open the gate.”

The security light overhead flashed green while the gate buzzed open from a remote control center, and you stepped through the threshold. You sighed and walked up to your mother and father. “Hello, parents. Did you get bored of trying to act like you could still procreate and decide to pay your eldest a visit finally?”

“Desdemona!” Morticia shrieked.

Gomez chuckled and touched her back to quell her growing frustration. “Easy, Tish, she’s just warming up for the day. You didn’t mean it, did you, my little hellion?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How serious are you about breaking me out of here?” You narrowed your eyes at him while all four of you, including the guard, walked back to the entrance. As the four of you stepped outside the prisoner living quarters, Gomez turned and gestured toward the guard, who was hesitantly moving toward you with a set of keys jingling in his unsteady hands. You watched him fit the correct key into the lock of the steel cage and turn the little knobs inside, releasing the pressure from the cuffs and letting them bounce apart from your wrists before the box snapped open and thudded to the ground. Your brow raised while you rubbed at your sore wrists. Giving a cursory glance at the guard, you thought, ehh, there’s better prey than you, little piggy.

You turned toward your father and mother as they said, “Dead serious, darling.” You smirked and followed them to the car. Lurch let you all in, moved into the driver's seat, and put the pedal on the floor, leaving dust and gravel flying in your wake with the prison and the shaking guard fading into little dark spots.

Turning back to your parents, you said, “So, who did you kill, poison, or bribe to get my indefinite sentence halted?”

Morticia and Gomez stopped fawning over each other and whispering like teenagers about their little escapades in their youth that were similar to this one. They turned to you, and Morticia said with a familiar smirk, “A certain judge might have suddenly come to the belief that were you not immediately released, his bowels might begin imploding on him, causing massive internal bleeding that would quickly escalate to extreme bloodloss and sudden death.”

You raised your brow, thinking, gross, definitely not your style. Then again, yours and your parents’ signatures have never quite aligned. Have they? “And he agreed to that?”

“Well…a little give was admittedly needed on our part, little dagger. No justice system would simply allow a famed serial murderer to walk without some sort of agreed-upon rehabilitation plan. That is what our little friend informed us." Gomez said this with palms up and a placating smile, knowing you would add in that you could have done it without having to bend your will, albeit coming away with messier hands and the smell of blood on you.

Scoffing, you looked out the window, knowing whatever they agreed to put you through would not be to your liking, which would most certainly make your parents smirk with satisfaction—Morticia, anyway. Your relationship with your parents has always been a complicated one. “So, what will this forced rehabilitation plan look like, hmm?”

You could practically feel Morticia buzzing with selfish glee as she slowly said it, letting her lips form each word wholly before dropping them before you to splatter into the carpeted floorboard under your feet. “You're going to attend school with your younger sister, Dezzy. Our old alma mater, Nevermore Academy.”

“WHAT?” You barely registered that she used that stupid, loathsome nickname because all you could hear was your blood ringing through your ears. Your heartbeat sped up, imagining you mingling with petty little tweens and other teenagers as they giggled, cursed, sweated, cried, and chatted with one another. Their germs and fluids mixing as bodies inevitably tangled, writhed, and pulled at one another while they threw away all of their intellectual capacities for brief moments of desire and ecstasy. You don’t know how Wednesday does it every day. God, I hope that place hasn’t changed her, you thought.

“Oh, come now, Dezzy–

“I told you never to call me that! You know how I feel about that fucking nickname!” You screamed, images of you trapped and bashing your fists against the underside of the musty floorboards while tears streamed down your cheeks, listening to the girls chanting Dezzy! Dezzy! The scared little baby! above you flashed in your eyes. You blinked the memories away and looked at Morticia out of the corner of your eyes with betrayal and disappointment. She never fucking learns, you thought.

Morticia was always startled at your outbursts, the level of fury you could hurl at her in a second. Like the flip of a match, you exploded on her, which never fails to leave her speechless and hurt. She looked to Gomez for support but found him nudging his head towards you as a signal to apologize; Morticia, come on. She looked at you as you stared out the window, watching the foliage blur into greens and browns. Sighing, she thought, fucking stupid, you remember why she hates that name, hell you walked in on them doing it, Morticia! Leaning her head towards you, she tries to get your attention again and slowly says, “I’m sorry darling, I- I know, I shouldn’t have said that. It slipped out before I knew what I was saying, little dagger. Desdemona darling…” she waited for you to look at her, “forgive me?”

You studied her expression, saw the plea in her eyes, and remembered how she ripped out the floorboards, picked you up from that dark, spider-infested place, and held you in her arms. While you cried and clung to her, she held you and screamed how could you? What is wrong with you? You’re fucking monsters! to the group of blushing girls caught red-handed. You remember how she stormed into the headmaster’s office, demanding an explanation for why he didn’t protect you, why those girls were left unsupervised, why he let you go so long without a single friendship made at that damned school? Above all, you remember her vowing never to bring her daughter back to that hellhole and that he could say goodbye to his reputation and credentials as an educator. You recall as she carried you out of there, hearing her swearing on her mother’s grave that he and those girls would pay severely for making her baby scream and cry out in fear. Ohh, how you could hear her chanting something deadly in her spell room while Gomez talked with strange men about visiting the families of those unfortunate, monstrous people, and finally, you remember seeing four little dolls that looked so like the condemned from that school wind up on your mother’s desk in gruesome conditions with pins and burned bodies.

“Okay, fine, I forgive you—but only for the nickname, not for this nightmare you are about to put me through,” you grumbled and leaned your head on the back of the seat.

Morticia smiled and forced herself not to reach out and clasp your hands because she knew how alike her daughters could be. Instead, she grasped Gomez’s arm and said, “Nevermore is a charming little gothic wonderland! We swear it is not like other schools; Nevermore is a place for freaks, ghouls, werewolves, vampires, and gothics alike. Tell her, Gomez.”

“Tish is right, my little dagger. Nevermore is unlike any school; it was founded by Poe himself, after all. The principal there is devoted to ensuring every student feels welcome…especially after what happened last year, the school has become more like a family of goths and freaks that protects its own.”

“How touching,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm in response to their sickly sweet praises of the school. You looked out the window and saw the beginnings of a massive castle-like structure forming in the distance. Turning to your parents, you sighed, “Well, if I am to spend the rest of my sentence here, at least tell me more of this famous school and its esteemed principal that you’re so giddy to bore me over—quickly though, otherwise my ears might burst with anymore prolonged exposure to your insane joy.”

Morticia frowned at the word sentence and watched you smirk at her facial expression. Sighing, she thought, sometimes you and Wednesday are too alike before going into detail with Gomez about the academy’s history and the unfortunate events of last year. The tales of the raving monster they called the Hyde and its evil commander, how they ravaged the town, the school, and everyone that came unsuspectingly into their path—they were gruesome. Morticia and Gomez smirked at the unmistakable growing spark of curiosity and thrill in your eyes. An Adams through and through. They told you how Wednesday and her band of misfits were crucial to stopping the Hyde and its evil commander, Mrs. Thornhill, and how Wednesday’s known skill for potionmaking ended up saving the principal with one of her concocted antidotes. Indeed, what a tale of misery, murder, and mystery it was. Agatha Christie would be pleased, you thought.

…

Staring up at the gothic architecture, in all its dark, sullen glory, you thought it impressive. At least your parents were not wrong about the appearance and atmosphere of the place. Nevermore is most certainly a school reserved for only the best of freaks and goths; you could see students roaming about under the gables, curved archways, gargoyles, and on the marbled and grassy surfaces of the quad and the lawn surrounding the gothic concrete creature. It looked more like an overdone mansion than a school. Students dressed in matching dark purple and blue uniforms, some with black glasses, others with mixed expressions of glee, curiosity, suspicion, or dread, and carrying books, backpacks, trinkets, or all three; it made them look like little characters from a story that were hiding powers and ambiguous morality.

Making your way through the school entrance with your parents on your heels and gossiping about the glorious days of their youth—yuck!—you came face to face with the gold plaque of Principal Weems. You could hear her typing away on her laptop and talking on the phone about a banquet, or was it a dance? Her voice was distinctly sweet yet deep—how dark could it go?—and smoothly rich, the voice of someone who was not afraid to demand respect and authority she likely felt she was rightly due…and of someone who was used to receiving it promptly, with haste…someone who rarely found herself matched and challenged. Hmm, you might actually have some fun here, Des. With that thought, you knocked sharply on her door, hearing her voice come to a halt before she murmured a short apology and goodbye, followed by a short silence and then the rhythmic, steady click of her heels as she approached the other side of the wooden barrier.

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