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mikathemonster · 2 months

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oh my god oh my god ohhhh my god.

ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING (NSFW TEASER)

Mercenary!Tengen x Assassin!Reader

A/N: I’ve been hyping this one up for a while, so enjoy a smutty teaser of Part I of Tengen’s installment in my Tell Me to Stop series.

This will be an enemies-to-lovers fantasy AU where Tengen is a contracted mercenary for the royal Ubayashiki family and Reader is an assassin. Trust when that when I say “enemies to lovers” I mean enemies to lovers. Tengen and Reader take turns beating the shit out of each other and both try to kill each other at least once.

But be warned: things get fucking filthy. Hope you’re ready to see Tengen be the biggest simpy bitch for Reader. Enjoy!

CW: explicit sexual content below • MDNI • oral (f!receiving) • public sex • sub!Tengen • he quite literally crawls for a chance to eat Reader’s pussy • begging • enemies to lovers • Reader’s on a power trip and we love it • defilement of a throne

“That isn’t yours,” a familiar voice drawled from behind the drapery partitioning off the entrance to the grand throne room. Though its tone was almost bored, there was a faint hint of amusement.

Your red-painted lips curved up into a devious smile. “My apologies, I thought I spied my name carved into this fine stone.”

From the shadowy corridor of the throne room emerged a figure,

“It belongs to his Majesty, who, need I remind you, you tried to assassinate not even one year ago.”

“That is old news,” You waived your hand dismissively at him, crossing one leisurely leg over the other, allowing the silky material of your dress to part at the slit around your thigh. “I have moved on. Call it self reflection, personal growth —“

“A higher paying offer,” Uzui amended.

“— All that matters is that I now pose no threat to your beloved King.” You finished smoothly. “I simply wanted to see if the great Ubayashiki’s throne was as grand as the rumors claim.”

The Sound Mercenary only shook his head, his arms folded across his massive chest as he sauntered down the aisle toward the base of the dias leading up to the royal throne, where you sat. “Your very presence on his ancestral seat dishonors His Majesty. And though I tolerate many things, I should not tolerate disrespect to him.”

“Is that why you fucked the one once hired to cut his throat?” You pondered, loftily. “Was it out of this great respect for him that you begged for my cunt?”

Uzui scowled. “I said I shouldn’t tolerate it; I never claimed to succeed in doing so.” And even from where you sat above him, you could see the fire simmering in the Sound Mercenary’s eyes as he passed through a large beam of moonlight that streamed through the windows of the cavernous Hall. “That’s particularly true where a certain devious assassin who enjoys toying with the threads of my sanity is involved.”

You suppressed the delighted shiver that tickled down your spine. “Be that as it may — if you want to preserve the sanctity of your Master’s throne, then you will have to come remove me yourself,” you smirked, shifting forward in the seat, eyes flashing with your challenge. “But be warned: I am armed.”

The silver-haired mercenary gave a great snort. “You remind me as though it were possible to forget how you held a blade against my neck while you fucked yourself on my cock,” his voice dropped to a sultry purr and his eyes darkened. “I may be a blind fool where you’re concerned, but only a simpleton would think to underestimate you.”

“So narrow minded, Uzui.” You sighed. “A woman can be armed with more than mere blades.”

You uncrossed your legs, your fingers ruching up the delicate folds of your dress and pulling them aside, your thighs spreading wide across the seat of the throne.

Your gown was spun from a fabric the color of molten silver. Though floor-length, the bottom half of the dress was not a single, unified garment. Rather, the skirt was separated into three, equal sections, with one pleat hanging straight down the middle. The other two were separated from it by twin slits, extending from the bottom hem of the gown to nearly either hip.

Standing, the openings in the gown weren’t noticeable; but they served an important function, allowing you greater freedom of movement should you find yourself in need to fight or flee, and it made it easier to grab for any weapons you could strap to your thighs.

But the dual-slit skirt served another important function: access.

Your faint smirk twisted into a cruel grin as Uzui’s eyes ran down the length of your body and snagged on the flash of what lay at the apex of your thighs, before you allowed the middle panel or fabric to cover you once more.

It was brief, but with relish, you realized it had been enough to grind all his higher reasoning to a screeching halt; for you’d given him a quick glance of what you knew he wanted most.

Your cunt.

And you’d forgone wearing underclothes.

“Gods above,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You are sin itself.”

He began advancing toward you, his hands quickly undoing the belts securing his various blades and weapons from where they were knotted around his waist. His weapons dropped carelessly to the floor, the whine of metal against scraping against stone drowned out by the music thundering from the orchestra in the ballroom just beyond the doors to the hall.

“Stop,” your voice rang clear and firm through the empty throne hall, and the Sound Assassin halted, foot suspended mid-air.

His eyes followed your fingers as they toyed with the low neckline of your gown before dropping down to your breast, circling it once. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, before he swallowed hard.

Your head was fogged by the high of his obedience. “Crawl to me.”

Magenta eyes widened, a blush creeping out from under the high collar of his tunic. For a moment, you feared you’d gone too far, that this game you played had run its course, but then Uzui dropped to his knees. Keeping his eyes locked heatedly with yours, he began to shuffle forward, slow and purposefully, to where you remained perched on his King’s throne.

Your slave, indeed.

The revered mercenary of the Wisteria Kingdom’s royal family finally drew upon the dais leading to the great throne. He paused, still on his hands and knees, his eyebrow raised in question as he glanced between you and the stairs elevating you above him.

Quickly, you tallied the number of steps separating you, and your grin broadened.

Ten.

You peered down your nose at the waiting Sound Mercenary with mocking disdain. “I’m waiting.”

The silver-haired guard did not utter a single word as he crawled forward, his eyes unwaveringly locked with yours. Despite his hulking size, he ascended the ten steps on his hands and knees with a loping grace, and within seconds he was at the foot of the throne, peering up at you in both reverence and apprehension.

His back straightened, though he remained on his knees before you, settling instead on his haunches. Tentatively, he reached for you, but but before his hands could graze your knees you extended your leg and planted your heel-clad foot squarely in the center of his chest, halting him.

Your voice was softer than the shadows cast by the dim candlelight flickering in the sconces lining the walls. “I did not say you could touch me.”

Yet you did not stop him as his fingers teased along the outside of your foot, lifting your leg until your calf rest against his collar bone.

“I have not stopped thinking about you,” he confessed with a rasp, his lips whispering against the skin of your ankle. “For weeks, you have consumed me, mind, body and soul.”

He began peppering small, chaste kisses against your leg, each caress of his lips rising higher and higher. His eyes bore into yours, and the vastness of the desperation swimming in those fuchsia irises threatened to swallow you whole. “Please,” he urged as his fingers worked circles into the soft flesh behind your knee. His eyes flicked down to what was between your thighs — what he craved most — before lifting back to yours. “I think I may go mad if I do not have a taste—“

You lurched forward, ignorning the burn in your hamstring, and caught his chin firmly in your hand, halting his ascension up your leg. He did not dare to blink as you leaned in close enough to see the blacks of his pupils dilate, chasing away the magenta of his gaze “I think you’ve already succumbed to madness, given that you’re begging to taste my cunt while your Master is in the next room. While I sit on his throne.”

“Then you are the cure to my sickness,” Uzui retorted, his cheek pressed to your shin. His eyes shone with a feverish devotion, one that flamed the red-hot fire of need burning in your belly. “So please, allow me the chance to ease some of my suffering.”

You sat back against the ancestral seat of the Ubayashiki bloodline, your lips pursed in consideration, though your hold on him remained.

“Show me.” You ordered after a moment, and your thumb slipped into his mouth. Instantly, his lips wrapped around its tip, his tongue flicking across the pad of your finger as he sucked. “Show me who you truly bow to; show me what god you worship.”

You let your hand fall from his chin and settled back against the throne, your thighs spreading wide in invitation.

Uzui wasted no time; deft fingers shoved the slitted panels of your dress to the side, and he surged forward, latching his mouth to your cunt with a gasp.

It was remarkable how quickly a few strokes of his tongue against your heated flesh could melt your smug grin clean from your face. Your head thudded against the high back of the throne as Uzui parted your folds with his tongue, began drinking you in with enthusiastic grunts.

“Thank you,” he moaned between fervent laps at your cunt, his hands wrapped under your thighs, holding you open to accommodate his hulking size as he worked. “Thank you, my sweet villain. Thank you.”

Your grip on the arms of the throne tightened, your nails nearly cracking as your fingers dug into the carved stone with crushing force. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you were lucky that the Ubayashiki clan had favored such a sturdy material for its royal seat, for the arm rests would have surely crumbled in your hands had they been made from mere wood.

One of Uzui’s great hands tugged a leg over his shoulder, your foot coming to rest against his upper spine. He then bent your other leg at the knee before pushing it far to the side to allow himself to press as close to your center as possible, the mass of his shoulders serving to pin you in place and keep you spread as wide as your body would tolerate.

This new position meant that his nose was flush against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, serving as extra stimulation as his mouth worked furiously against you.

“I’ve heard that there is no finer wine than that made by the gods themselves,�� Uzu gasped against you, pulling his mouth away from your core to rest his great cheek against your inner thigh while he caught his breath. The sight of his lips — rosy and shiny from you — was enough to make you squirm, your hips bucking insistently toward him, desperate for him to continue. “But I know that’s a load of horse shit, because neither the gods nor man could ever make anything taste as sweet as your cunt.”

“Uzui —“ you whined, your need for him too great to care about the desperate edge of your tone.

“Fuck,” Uzui hissed and then he latched his mouth back to your core with a heady groan. His tongue stroked at you, swirling around your clit once, twice, before diving back down to your entrance and plunging deep.

You would have bowed off the throne had the Sound Mercenary’s great hand not slapped firmly against your sternum to push you back and hold you down. You bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep the loud, rapturous cry of pleasure from tearing free from your throat as Uzui began steadily pumping his wet appendage in and out of your heat.

Once he was sure you would not float away from him, his hand dragged down your torso, stopping to palm and pinch at your breasts before continuing its descent, finally coming to press flat against your lower abdomen. His thumb stretched down and began toying with the nub between your thighs, circling and pressing in time with the movements of his mouth.

“What have you done to me? I will never be able to have enough of you.” He moaned in between measured thrusts of his tongue. Your fingers flew to grip a handful of his hair, tugging him harshly against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked down to see the whites of his eyes peeking through his eyelids before they fully shut, as Uzui lost himself in your taste.

You could feel your cries building in your throat, a mounting pressure that risked erupting and exposing you — exposing you both — to the revelers just on the other side of the Great Hall. You may not have been familiar with all the intricate details of the Wisteria Kingdom’s laws, but you were fairly certain defiling the Crown’s throne would earn you a one-time encounter with an executioner’s blade, no matter how benevolent its ruler.

It was growing more difficult to contain your noises, especially as Uzui’s hunger grew more frenzied, his head rocking harshly from side to side as he feasted.

Just as you were about to lose what little control over yourself remained, the silver-haired mercenary held something out in offering, though the rhythm of his mouth against your center remained constant. In your pleasured haze, it took you a moment to comprehend what, exactly, it was he suggested.

You blinked rapidly in an effort to clear the fog created by his sinful tongue between your legs.

It was his hand.

It hung limp from his wrist, and if you hadn’t known better, you almost would’ve believed he was waiting for you to lean forward and kiss his knuckles, just as you’d spied countless nobles do when getting their monarch. But this was no sycophantic noble — this was Uzui, and though he loved groveling for you, he knew better than to give you orders.

It was an offering; confirmed by the way he rolled his head to the side, his cheek pressing to your inner thigh even as he continued to lap at your folds. As you peered down your nose at him, you spotted sliver of magenta peeking through his eyelashes, before it flicked to his hand and back to you; urging.

His lips moved to wrap around your pearl and he sucked, hard enough that your back arced sharply away from the seat of the throne. Shakily, you reached to cover the hand he’d held out with your own and you hauled it quickly to your mouth, managing to stifle your moan against his knuckles and Uzui continued to suckle away, his tongue sliding along your slit.

His other hand slid between your thighs until his fingers came to rest against your lips. In an instant, he’d spread them wide and plunged his tongue back into your opening, curling and thrusting.

Your teeth sank hard into the flesh covering the back of Uzui’s hand where it was pressed against your mouth, your scream burning as it toiled in your throat. You felt his skin break under the force of your bite, but the Sound Mercenary did not seem to mind; in fact, he hardly seemed to notice at all, far too fixated on fucking you as thoroughly with his tongue as he could with his cock.

Once, you’d thought it was only he who wore a leash, one that had been looped around his neck by you, to be pulled and tightened at your whim.

Now, as your hips lifted to meet his mouth and your mind disconnected from your body in favor of grinding wantonly against his face, you realized that perhaps, he’d slipped his own leash around you. For as much as you insisted you were always in control, always remained one step ahead, you found that you were no more a slave to your own desires than the man feasting on your cunt like it was his last meal.

You were close; so dangerously close, given how your abdomen tensed as that coil in your belly cinched tight.

“Uzui —“ you warned, pulling your mouth away from his bloodied knuckles. But then Uzui grazed his teeth against your clit just as his tongue curled and stroked your innermost wall, and that coil unwound.

Your climax slammed into you with a force that threatened to pull you apart at your seams. One hand clutched at the arm rest of the throne while the hand shot to his head, your fingers ensnarling themselves into his hair harshly enough that you could’ve scalped him, had he tried to pull away. But Uzui wasn’t going anywhere; not as you began twisting and gyrating and bucking against his face, too overcome by pleasure to make a sound, your mouth only hanging open in a silent scream.

The Sound Mercenary groaned loudly into your cunt as you continued riding against his face. A violent shudder passed over him and he clutched harder at your thighs, his hands nearly wrapping around them both as he fucked you through the tides of your climax.

Uzui lapped at you twice more before your legs finally relaxed and the last wave of your high receded. Limp and panting, you forced your hand to tighten its grip in his hair, tugging until you managed to pull his face away from your cunt. You cocked your head to the side, inspecting him, your hand dropping its hold on the silken strands of his hair to grip under his chin, tilting his face up toward you.

Uzui’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink, and his chest heaved as he caught his breath. Your thumb swiped over his bottom lip, and with a fluttering thrill, you realized that the area from his chin to the hollows of his cheeks were thoroughly covered in you, his skin shiny and slick.

Your eyes scanned lower, narrowing in on the crotch of his leathers. Though the throne room was shadowy and dark, you still spied the thick bulge which had formed between his thighs as he’d indulged himself on you. With a smirk, you leaned forward and ran your other hand over the laced seam of his breeches, ready to hear him hiss as you made contact with his hardness, but to your surprise, the material was damp.

Your eyes flicked to his, wide as you withdrew your hand, your thumb running over your palm where a small bit of his spend had seeped through his laces.

Uzui kept his chin high, his eyes full of a besotted wonder as you leaned back against the throne, and grinned.

“You might wish to visit a washroom before you return to your post, Uzui,” you mocked, sweetly. “Lest you allow your entire Court to know how you truly enjoying spending your time.”

“I suppose you’re right; imagine how quickly I’d be sent to the gallows if my master learned I’ve whored myself out to the enemy.” He bit back, a rueful smile forming on his lips. “Though if you were my wife, I could wear your pleasure like a badge of honor.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine,” his answer was quick and assured. “There is no higher honor than having you moan for me.” He paused for a moment, his hand reaching for you, and you allowed his knuckles to softly caress your cheek. “Though I think i might consider treason if it meant hearing you utter my name — my true name.”

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