#headpieces that turn from delicate leaves to horns... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evarcana · 3 years

Text

NSFW - The courtiers eating out (fem) MC

Oh là là I feel like I really reserved myself a place in hell with this one!

Fair warning: 18+, you know what it will be talking about, right? (If you don’t know, please reconsider reading)

Thanks to @move-im-vesuvian-thirsty who mentioned it once and this stupid single braincell of mine just didn’t forget...

Valdemar

Very keen. Let’s be honest, edging and teasing is to be expected and they have so many ways to play with you, but this might just be one of their favourites;

Know what they are doing and will take their time with you;

It’s definitely an experience because ...Teeth™. They are not rough or unpleasant and know all too well how delicate human body is, but that tingling sensation of the sharp teeth caressing your skin is always there, even when their tongue is gliding inside you. And you can definitely expect to at least shiver every time they deliberately bite or nibble;

Talking about teeth, boy do they put them to the good use - there are bite marks all over your inner thighs;

Needless to say they are in complete control and would not follow the directions you try to give (if you are still able to form coherent phrases);

Don’t like if you try to touch them in process - to hold their head, pull on their hair / horns / headpiece. Would have you tied to the table, but if not, they will definitely hold your hands in place if necessary;

What they would enjoy is to watch you touching yourself in the process - run hands over your body, bite fingers to stop yourself from screaming, cover your face with your hands helplessly, whatever - you know the deed;

Will edge you to orgasm ( well if you are allowed to) and will absolutely grin at you from between your legs.

Valerius

A bit too selfish to be really into it. So if he is giving you oral, he is either teasing you or it’s part of him being in the submissive role - Tell him to put that mouth of his to better use;

That being said, he suddenly becomes much more keen on it when drunk;

It might not be easy to get him there but it does turn him on big time if he is eating you out standing on his knees;

Very hands on - grabs your legs, thighs and ass a lot, will dig the nails into your skin and leave some bruises from holding too tight if you are not against some rough handling;

He won’t do anything too creative (definitely no nibbling) and it’s not like he has particularly amazing technique but all those kissing, licking and sucking surely does feel good;

Will moan into you (especially when drunk) and will want you to run your hands through his hair pressing his head even closer to you or arch your back and press harder against his lips;

Always knows when you are close - he will slow down or pause on purpose, and yes, (when he is teasing) he won’t pay attention to that particular spot he knows you enjoy until you really beg for it;

Wants to be praised after he made you climax and nothing can stop him from commenting on what a needy mess he made of you (might tell you that you tasted good).

Vlastomil

Oh he is SO into it, ready to eat you out any time (I mean he IS nasty). Up to anything but finds it particularly arousing if you to sit on his face, it’s 69 or youwrap your legs around his head in process;

Yes, the split tongue appears even in his human(ish) form;

You are not sure whether it’s you or him but it feels very wet and slippery;

Their fingers, lips and tongue are always slightly cool and it sends shivers down your spine;

will fuck you with the tongue or put fingers inside while licking and sucking on you;

Tell him what you want and how you want it, stroke his head when he is doing as you told him - he likes it and he wants to please you in any way;

Won’t tease or deny you orgasm but he will overstimulate you;

He often won’t stop, even after you’ve come. He gets carried away and loves it too much when you have to push his head away or suddenly move away from him, desperate for a break from stimulation.

Volta

Did you even doubt that she is naturally amazing at it? Can do it for hours;

She loves to please and to be on the giving side, so you never even have to ask.

It can be the whole separate long session when she will make you come multiple times or a foreplay/warmup to something else;

She definitely at least fantasised of incorporating food in it one way or another - yes, she wants at least your inner thighs to be covered in something sweet;

Her tongue and lips feels super gentle and her hands will explore your body in the process;

Does not want to tease or edge but she can be intense and won’t want to stop if something edible is involved;

Will always praise you after you had orgasm and tell you how amazing you taste and that she wants more of you. If you praise her, will ask you whether you want he to repeat because she is ready right now.

Vulgora

Usually too impatient for such things but will tackle you to fall on the bed and eat you out if you ask;

Any position which allows them to top you - they will be rough, like to force your legs apart and keep them in place (or if you the type who kicks and tends to move lots, they will be into it);

For some reason their mouth feels hot;

Tends to use their hands more as it seems so much more efficient for them (It’s up to you whether the gauntlets stay on or not);

When they find that spot they will be rubbing or pushing on it hard until you become oversensitive and climax (and yes their mouth does not leave your clit in process);

You can definitely feel the teeth too but unlike in Valdemar’s case it is not intentional; they just tend to forget and get carried away, so it may seem a bit rough;

Definitely into overstimulation and won’t stop - they want you be vocal and plead, grab the bedsheets, their clothes / body / hair / horns / whatever and then maybe they will grant you mercy.

#n/s/f/w #the arcana courtiers headcanons #the arcana courtiers #valdemar the arcana #quaestor valdemar #consul valerius #valerius the arcana #praetor vlastomil #vlastomil the arcana #volta #volta the arcana #pontifex vulgora #vulgora the arcana #vulgora #the courtiers #Valdemar #Valerius

196 notes · View notes

speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Bring Him Light - viii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: If the king can disrespect his queen so openly, surely the people can, too?

Warnings: slight injury to reader, confessions, bad timing

Word Count: 3k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

It was inevitable. The people began to lash out at you as soon as their king did. You were an outsider, the daughter of a king who waged a war against their country. They welcomed you into Brooken in hopes of a bright future and an heir for their king. And to their knowledge, you had disappointed them. So, when your husband struck you in front of his court, it opened the door to let his subjects treat you in the same manner.

In the days that took place after the party, the respect for you had dwindled. Ladies of the court who once pulled you around to chat your ear off and were all too excited to invite you to their tea parties and to their chateaus had all stopped acknowledging you when you walked into the room. You were given smug looks and side eyed stares. Their husbands, who were all eager to carry favor with the queen in doing so with the king as well, had barely spoke to you now. Before, when they grazed your shoulder with theirs, you were bombarded with apologizes, afraid that they had hurt the king by hurting you. But all that changed the moment your delicate skin was scarred by the wedding ring that symbolized your failing marriage. Now, their bumps were intentional, and they hurt – you had bruises to prove it.

You admired one of the paintings that adorned the wall of the east end of the castle. You were rarely seen outside of your chambers and when you were, you kept to yourself. The warm, welcoming Brooken was gone. And in its place stood a cold, lonely prison.

“(Y/N),” you let out a sigh when you recognized the low, hushed voice of Brock Rumlow. Ever since the party, you had spoken to four people – Wanda, Natasha, Jean the midwife, and Brock. The friendship between you and your husband’s cousin was platonic, you made it clear to the man that you had no intentions of an affair and he seemingly agreed, not wanting to further endanger you.

He glanced around to ensure that you were both alone. He wasn’t eager for any unwanted guests to listen in. Brock strode over to you with long steps until he stood next to you. Your eyes stayed glued to the giant painting. It appeared to be a portrayal of a war that Steven’s grandfather had been a part of.

“The arrangements have been made,” he whispered. You nodded. “There’s a tower opposite your bedchamber’s windows. When you see a light, know to meet at the docks the next time the moon rises. We will use the cover of the night to escort you and your ladies safely onto a ship.”

“Thank you.” You muttered. “Really.”

He reached out and gave a comforting squeeze to your arm. His fingers trailed the scarred flesh of your wrist – a reminder of another fault King Steven has done.

When the two men were young, Brock had been groomed to take the throne because Steven had been a sickly child. He remembered his aunt being told to expect the worst, so Steven’s father had taken Brock under his wing. He convinced himself that he would’ve been the perfect king. But then a “magic” doctor from a foreign land had been brought in and a few weeks later, Steven’s illnesses were gone along with the short, skinny prince. Steven grew to be broad and tall, towering over his cousin and a lot of other men. Brock was thrown to the side as Steven regained his proper place in the court.

He grew up with jealousy as he watched his cousin get everything that was meant for him. The castle, the title, the crown… Brock hadn’t been jealous of Steven’s wives. He had his own list of lovers and was very satisfied with the women whom he shared a bed with, but then your portrait was delivered by King Anthony Stark. The young, beautiful princess of York who got to be his cousin’s wife – who would’ve been his wife if he had been on the throne.

“Of course, your grace,” he nodded.

“Is there anything else?” He shook his head and mentioned he should go for the council had a meeting in a few minutes. You smiled at him before you dismissed him, wanting to be alone. He bowed before leaving.

You thought you’d be giddy, excited upon hearing the news. Lord Pierce worked quickly, contacted the Wakanda King and negotiated you and your ladies’ safe voyage. It was all falling into place. You’d be far from Brooken so that your husband and his court couldn’t hurt you anymore and far from York where your father would’ve just sent you back to your own personal hell.

But you weren’t happy. You were taking your unborn child away from its father. You were stealing away a kingdom’s heir. For what? Because you were unhappy in your marriage? Because your husband had hurt you? They were good reasons to leave. So, why weren’t you relieved?

After long minutes of silence and contemplating, you heard a tutting. With a frown, you turned around and saw one of the noblewomen, Lady Leah Nightingale, emerge from the shadows. She had been one of the women who took back her invitation to her chateau – it wasn’t as if you had any intentions of riding off to the outskirts of southern Brooken to go either way.

“Lady Leah.” You greeted with a fake smile. She had an eyebrow quirked up with a taunting expression with her arms crossed.

“You’re a whore.” She said. Your smile immediately dropped. “I didn’t want to listen to the rumors about you and Lord Rumlow, yet here I am… Did I intrude? The moment seemed rather intimate.”

“I believe you are mistaken, Lady Leah.” You nodded. You walked past her and towards the staircase behind her when she grabbed your arm and whipped you around.

“The king will have your head for your infidelity.” She said. “Then, any lady of the court gets another chance at being queen. That crown,” she snatched the dainty York tiara off your head, “belongs to me.”

“That is my mother’s.” You seethed as you reached over and tried to grab it from her hands. It became a tug of war.

You found it ridiculous, fighting over a headpiece. Your husband had gifted you hundreds of jewels and crowns that were stashed away. You could’ve easily exchanged it for something more extravagant or expensive, but Brooken had already stolen so much from you.

She pulled so hard away from you that the crown had slipped from both your hands. It clattered against the hard floors, the aged metal splitting in half. You gasped with wide, teary eyes. Lady Leah gave you a smirk.

“It’s all yours, your majesty,” she mocked. “It was cheap like your mother… and like you.”

You glared at her, feeling all the pent-up rage bubbling to the surface. You trembled with anger, unsure of how to exert such negativity. You weren’t sure whether to lunge at her and tear the stupid dangly earrings from her ears or scream until your lungs gave out.

“Queen Margaret had more grace than you and she was older than the king. Queen Sharon was more beautiful and kind. You little York bitch thought you were too good for the rest of us. Too good for the king?” She scoffed. “No wonder he grew tired of you. Hell, I wanted to slap you the second you stepped out the carriage. I can’t wait until he kills you.” You felt your breath shudder and the tears fall from your eyes. “In fact… I’ll go ahead and do it for him.”

You frowned with confusion but quickly let out a gasp when her hands reached out and pushed your shoulders hard. You lost your balance. Your foot missed a step as you tumbled down the stairs.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The five men sat around the wooden table, the king at the head. He drummed his fingers along the wood, the rhythm helped calm him.

It had been a week since the party – since he had slapped you as if you were just a defiant servant. He felt awful the moment it happened. You had a horrified look on your face as you stared at him as if he truly were a monster with fangs, horns, and all. He felt like he was one.

After the party ended, he saw an upset Strucker to his guest chambers before nearly running to your shared bedchamber with thousands of apologizes raging on inside his mind. He had intended to kiss the cut until it healed and hold you like he did in the first few months of your marriage. But you weren’t there. So, he sat at the foot of the bed and awaited your return. He stayed up all night long, but eventually collapsed hours after the sun rose.

He hoped to waken with you curled up beside his body, but he woke up to not-so-quiet servants who were briskly removing your things from the chamber. He pulled one girl aside and questioned her. She revealed that you wished to stay in your old chambers from now on.

He thought that this was perhaps a way of punishing him, so he allowed himself to be punished. He deserved it. He knew he should not have struck you – whether it happened privately or in front of a crowd, he knew he should not have laid his hands on you in that way.

He thought that you would return in a few short days and allow him to apologize for his wrongdoing. He hoped that there was still a chance at that happiness he promised you.

But days had turned into a week and you never returned.

And it hurt him.

Lord Pierce was droning on about the absence of grain. In the past year, Baron Strucker had been holding out on the essential good. He had been giving Brooken a fraction of what he used to. So, Steven invited him to court in hopes to coax out more of the grain so that his people could eat. But with your outburst and Wanda’s rejection, the Duke became angry. Now, he was refusing to ship grain, feeding the king excuses about a wildfire and insects that ravaged his lands.

“Is there anything we can do?” He asked. “Perhaps, reach out to any allies?”

“York.” Lord Rumlow suggested. “Although with the situation at hand, I doubt the queen would be willing to ask her father to help you.” The words were meant to be a jab at the king. Steven knew. His cousin was always poking and looking for a fight.

Before the king could respond, someone burst through the doors. It was a wide-eyed Natasha rushed through the doors. Panic written all over her features. “Your grace, my lords,” she bowed, panting slightly.

“Nat?” Lord James asked, rising from his seat. “What’s happened?”

“The queen…” she said, breathless. “The queen…”

“Out with it!” Brock snapped, jumping up from his seat and walked over to the woman, grabbing her arms and shaking her slightly. James had told him to unhand her.

“The queen was pushed down the stairs by Lady Leah Nightingale… Or at least that’s what the witness had said,” Natasha explained after regaining her breath. “She’s in the infirmary.”

Steven felt the color drain from his face as he shot up and rushed past her and out the room. He heard the lady’s heels clatter against the tiles as she followed him. The sound was accompanied by heavy footsteps, that undoubtedly belonged to the other lords of his council.

As he approached the doors, he noticed a midwife – he believed her name was Jean or Joan, or something along the lines of that – walking the opposite direction in quick, rushed steps. He dismissed it before bursting through the double doors.

The doctor, Stephen Strange, who was visiting from York, had been looming over you. Lady Wanda sitting at your bedside. “King Steven,” he greeted with a nod.

“Strange.” Steven responded. He glanced over to the men behind him and asked for everyone but the doctor to be dismissed. The two ladies glared at him – he didn’t miss the way his cousin did, too. “Must I repeat myself?”

“I will not leave you with her.” It was Wanda, the shy, meek auburn-haired girl, who spoke up. She had rarely been defiant or outspoken in the ways you and Natasha were. She had always smiled and nodded, but now, she scowled at the king with her brows knitted together and venom dripping from her words.

The king sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “Please,” he asked with a lower voice. It was as if he were begging. The two women stood as they were as if to say we don’t take orders from you. “Fine. Stay.”

Steven walked closer towards you. You looked so peaceful – asleep with your head turned to the side slightly and a hand over your stomach, which protruded in the slightest bit but was still unnoticeable beneath your gown. The scar left a scabbed line on your cheekbone. He hadn’t realized how shallow the cut was.

“Is she okay?” He finally asked. “And I apologize that I hadn’t been there to welcome you to Brooken, Stephen.”

“I’m only here because her father asked me to come check on her. I am her godfather after all.” Stephen lied. Though, truthfully, he was your godfather. “She’s only sleeping for now, your grace. No true injury. The ba – “he stopped talking when he saw Wanda shake her head over the king’s shoulder. He was a smart man. He knew not to overstep. “She’ll make a quick recovery and be on her feet in a day, if not, less.”

“If she doesn’t wake?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. She will wake. I assure you.” Stephen said, confidently. He wasn’t here for your father’s bidding. He was here to inform you of your brother’s worsening condition. He believed that you had a right to know and say your farewells, but he realized that perhaps you had other pressing matters to deal with. “I suggest you get your court in order. If word reaches York about the treatment of their princess, there will be another war… And King Anthony will be twice as ruthless as he was during the first.”

Steven nodded. His eyes glued to your unconscious body. It was his fault that his people – your people, too – had been so cruel to you in the past week. Thankfully, you weren’t badly hurt in this incident, but what of the next? What happens when his own citizens become bold enough to have a true attempt at your life? It would still be your blood on his hands because he allowed this to happen.

“Let’s leave the king, shall we ladies?” Stephen asked. Although slightly wary and defiant, the two women reluctantly agreed. He listened to their receding footsteps and the door close behind them.

Steven brushed your hair gently with his fingers. He pressed his lips to your temple and to the cut before placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You head had turned, but you were still sound asleep.

“I don’t know if you’re listening. I hope you are.” Steven whispered, clutching the hand that laid to your side. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for striking you, for allowing people to disrespect you so openly. I’m sorry for calling you a whore queen, for frightening you. I… There are so many wrongdoings, so many faults. I told you before I wanted us to be happy. I wanted our future to be happy. And I failed you. I want to do better by you, to be the man that you deserve, I truly do…

“But there are things going on in this kingdom that you do not know about… I pray that you do not. My cousin and Lord Pierce are plotting against me. I know it. I want to trust you, (Y/N). I do. I want to tell you of my plans to weed out everyone who dares go against us, but I see them looming over you. I see Brock whispering into your ear. I can’t help but wonder if you will betray me like Margaret? Like Sharon? I’ve been married twice before you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it scares me because the only love I’ve known ends in betrayal. And if you betray me, I will not know how to recover.”

You were beginning to stir awake. Your eyes were fluttering open, wincing at the light. You felt a pressure in your head, a warmth radiating to your side. His words were muffled. You didn’t register anything he said. Not even when Steven whispered,

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Outside the infirmary doors, the lords had eventually dispersed. Wanda and Stephen had walked off, whispering about the secret baby that only you, your ladies, Jean, and now your godfather knew about. Rumlow and Pierce rushed off, whispering to one another about their plots. Only James and Natasha had stayed behind, standing against the wall across the door.

“Buck?” Natasha whispered. She surveyed the hallway. They were completely alone. Not a servant in sight. He hummed in response. “I have something to tell you.”

“About what?”

“I’m telling you because I trust you and because I do not trust Lord Rumlow.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You were eventually moved back to your chambers – the one separate from the king’s. You were still a bit dizzy from the incident, but you were assured you’d be fine. Jean had come by discreetly and checked up on you. She assured you that the baby wasn’t harmed and that the fall wasn’t too harsh that it could’ve caused any damage. Your godfather had also promised that you’d recover.

It became clear that Brooken did not want you here. You were in danger. Your child hadn’t been born yet, and it was in danger, too.

And like a flame that ignited in the window of the tower across from your chambers, a new hope burned through you. The signal. The confirmation.

You rubbed your slightly protruded stomach anxiously. The next night you were leaving Steven and Brooken. Forever.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america #royalty au #marvel au #marvel royalty

650 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

On my mind, in my soul - 11

Prompt: Continuing the prompts from last chapter (just because I had written so much originally that it had to be split in two parts)…but I decided to chose a new song and got help from my hubby for that. Now the prompts are: “Dangerous” by Royal Deluxe, Asgard, Loki’s helmet. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Swearing as usual (I think), the colour blue, a LOT of adult-only content! (avoid the itch - wrap the bitch) A/N: It’s been an absolute joy to watch the storm of demands for helmet-smut after the last chapter :) Please...if you like this chapter too, then reblog! Comment! Anything! Also...the art is obviously not made by me, because daymn!

Ready or not

Every ounce the man that drove you to temptation, Loki’s posture demands subjugation even if he must be weak still. Or maybe he isn’t? Studying the god, you notice a faint blue taint in his pale skin where raised markings are visible to any careful observer, proving that he’s putting on a show whether it’s for your benefit or not.

“I see you’ve been busy, my dear.” Moving his gaze to the golden headgear, there’s no doubt what he’s referring to. “I was…certain that chest had been locked…perhaps I was mistaken?”

His steps are careful, slow, but show no sign of strain as Loki walks to inspect the tools still lying by the chest. A hum reveals how impressed he is with what you’ve made do with, making you straighten up with ill-hidden pride. Adjusting his “crown” on your head, you consider the reflection in the mirror. Not bad. Sure, the dress is a bit odd in it’s foreign design, but the near-black purple silk that flows softly around your shape thanks to strategically placed golden ribbons. In fact, you decide, they match the horns very well. Flowy, long sleeves can easily hide the actions of your hands if needed, but that won’t be needed right now.

Turning fully towards Loki once more, you find him seated on the end of the bed. He’s been silently observing you as well, and a smirk hints that he likes the view.

“What brings you here?” you ask, crossing your arms below your bosom to push the breasts up towards the low neckline.

“These are my chambers,” the explanation is quiet, but his voice drops as he continues, “as are the contents.”

The low purr sends shivers through your body, and you know there won’t be anything you’ll refuse him even though you’re willing to play hard to get. “Is that so? I thought it was illegal to own people…at least I won’t be your slave.” ‘Cause I’m wearing the crown.

“My slave? No…you’ll attend to my needs of your own free will tonight,” he purrs deviously, “then we’ll see about the title later.”

“I may be benevolent…if you get undressed.”

Quirking and eyebrow, Loki doesn’t discuss the terms but merely waves a hand to magic his simple clothes away in a haze of gold and emerald, leaving him naked and very much at attention. Rarely one to ignore an impressive cock, your eyes are drawn to the semi-erection between the Asgardian’s thighs. Yes, you feel an aching need for it…but you want more than that, craving his touch everywhere on the skin. A hungry meeting of hot and cold. Past trails of kisses and love bites need renewing with a vigour that can only be found by those who nearly lost the way completely.

“Stroke yourself…my lord.”

He obeys without hesitation by grabbing the cock loosely, arm resting on the thigh as he sets a lazy pace without even once taking the eyes off you. Some incentive won’t go amiss. Reaching up under the dress, you find the delicate fabric of the underwear and pull it down. By the time it appears from under the skirts to pool around you ankles, Loki’s tongue is wetting his lips and his breathing has sped up. Moments later the tiny piece of clothing lands beside him on the bed.

“Move up to the headboard.”

Again, there’s no argument, and he’s rewarded by the golden sash that has held the dress tight around your waist. This one lands on the floor and is soon joined by the first layer of the dress (only leaving two more – Asgardian fashion is very different from temporary Earth-clothes). On his own, Loki has resumed the stroking but this time tighter, baring the dark cockhead each time his hand reaches the base. A bead of natural lubrication appears and is spread in a thin, glistening sheen.

This is how it's gonna be This is what you'll think of me

You pull at a few more ribbons, very slowly, before the most substantial part of the dress cascades off your shoulders. Gone are the flowy sleeves and the midnight-purple dabbled with gold, and you’re left in a thin shift in a ridiculously romantic lilac hue. You’d never have picked that yourself, but Loki approves, drinking in the vision of you.

“My dear,” the hushed longing transforms into the tell-tale purr, “had I know this would be my reward for sacrificing myself then I would not have waited so long.”

Head held high you cross the distance to the foot end of the bed. “Who says the reward is yours?”

You have to hold on to the horns perched precariously on your head as you climb onto the mattress, but as you settle down (kneeling or sitting on your heels) near Loki’s feet, it’s safe for you to occupy your hands elsewhere. Tracing every curve through the delicate fabric, you allow the god to admire what he can from afar. The pointed nipples are pinched and rolled through the almost transparent silk; waist is highlighted by broad strokes along the sides of the ribcage and across the stomach before you roll your hips into your own palms.

A few feet away, Loki’s ragged breath is barely muted by the teeth he digs into the lower lip even though his hand has slowed. All he can do, it seems, is to hold on to whatever is near. His grasp on the Asgardian shape is failing, causing red to mingle with the normally bright colour of his iris while the blue shade reclaims his limbs by spreading from each ridge and marking.

Bunching the skirt up a bit, one of your hands disappears underneath it with a clear destination. Although the nimble movement of the fingers is nothing by a shadow underneath the rumpled fabric, you help Loki understand exactly what is happening by rolling your hips, guiding your own fingers between then slick folds. And you do nothing at all to mask the obscene sound produced each time a finger slips past the entrance to the core or the growing moans when you tease the clit.

“[Y/N]…” the god groans desperately.

“Yeah?”

Your other hand hasn’t been idle but working your breasts and nipples through the shift. Now you slide it down a thigh and begin to collect the fabric, pulling it upwards inch by inch. It’s torture for Loki. His cock is straining and leaking precum.

“Let me worship your gorgeous body.” The offer’s breathless, making you smirk at his attempt to hide the frustration.

“Don’t want to strain you,” you mumble.

Already kissing a path up his legs while trying to control the impractical headpiece, you whine as the golden horns are stolen for you. Looking up at Loki, however, you change your mind. Fuck me. Battling colours in eyes and skin takes absolutely nothing from the sight. Sex on legs? Sure. And confident, skilled temptation too. But with that thing on his head there’s no doubt in your heart that he does command you.

Straightening up on your knees, it’s a battle to pull the shift off slow enough to maintain some semblance of control. Don’t let him decide anything…else...It lands in a heap somewhere beyond the bed. Bending down to continue the path you’d started, the kisses and bites are only interrupted the few times you have to swat the impatient god’s hands away, each time earning a growl that does nothing but encourage you. You pay particularly good attention to Loki’s hipbones and sensitive area around the cock…but you don’t touch him there.

The balls get a slow lick (resulting in a tremulous gasp) before you move on up across his chest where each nipple get either a kiss of a bite, and by the time you’re indulging yourself with the neck and chiseled jaw, you’ve come to straddle Loki…but you still don’t touch his cock.

“[Y/N…]”

“Patience.”

And I'm about to make it clear It's going down like I told ya I'm the baddest mother up in here

Lips meet, tongues dance. It’s enough of a distraction that you can return a hand to your own sex, causing you to sigh into Loki’s mouth, and as cool hands caress your shoulders and back you realize just how easily the god would be able to push you over the edge.

“My pet.” Insisting arms are pulling you closer, a bigger hand nudging your to take over the sinful ministrations.

“I thin’,” you murmur through teeth pulling at his earlobe, “tha’ we’ve establi’ed I’m no’ ju’ your pet.”

Moving closer, tilting your hips is all it take to guide his throbbing cock between your slick folds until it’s glistening. A bonk from the headgear and a tremulous groan proves the effect it has on Loki. It’s all he can do, restraining himself from rutting into you, and you see the shimmer as his Asgardian shape threatens to fail.

“I wanna fuck you, Loki,” you purr, “don’t hide your perfections.”

His eyes snap open, red outside the blown blackness of lust, making you shiver with anticipation of this wilder side of him as he grows just a smidgen in all dimension while the skin takes on the Jotun characteristics that you’ve come to love.

“There we go.”

Sure, the praise makes him smile crookedly, but the expression changes to that of slack-jawed bliss the moment you begin to lower yourself onto his length. Fuuuuck. Thick, ridged, and cold, the intrusion send shiver rolling through your body and there’s no way to prevent how hard you clamp on to him with your pussy.

Slow at first, and with Loki’s hands tight on your hips for guidance, you ride the god to the verge of the first orgasm. It becomes difficult to maintain the dragging rhythm even with your hands wrapped around the horns for support until a breathy order tumbles from you lips and Loki keeps you in place while he thrusts into you. Hard and deep, the ridges seem to slide across your g-spot with a perfection you couldn’t attain on your own, and soon you’re gasping the god’s name as your cunt spasms and your womb shakes.

“Let m–“

“No!” You’re not done with him yet, raising high enough to release his cock from your hold before you collapse onto his chest. “Not yet.”

“Then allow me to taste you, m’lady.”

How can you say no to that? Rolling off of him, you barely have time to land before his tongue weaves between the shivering folds.

Shit. The moans Loki produces should be illegal, obscene in sound as he eagerly labs at you, there’s no doubt that he genuinely enjoys what he’s doing, and each satisfied hum and groan sends vibrations into your core and still-sensitive clit.

Guiding him by the horns, you bring his focus exactly where you need it. The cold might soothe the burning ache, but there’s no respite from the feverish pleasure rolling through you. A finger, then two and then three are added to the mix and this time he’s got you arching as you practically call out for him. High-pitched and ignorant of a world outside the bed.

“Lo-LoKII!”

You can feel him smile against your core. “Yes, m’lady?”

A cheeky idea pops into your head, and you smile down at his glistening face. “You’ve been so very good, my dear,” shivering subtly from the soaring ecstasy, a pleased sigh escapes you, “I’ll grant you a wish.”

Now that gets his attention. Prowling over your naked form, he reach far enough to explore your throat and jawline with his mouth before biting gently at your ear.

“A wish…” he ponders while sending new shivers down your spine, “I should like to take you on all four. My horns on your beautiful head to hold on to as I ram into your delicious quim.”

A deep kiss seals the deal, but before you turn around, he places the golden accessory on your head. Oh, it’s like that? A golden shimmer radiated like a halo around your skull and you feel the crown tighten until it fits perfectly.

“So…perfect.” Something else than lust burns in the red and black eyes as Loki takes you in.

Suddenly, he’s twisted you around and you scramble to find purchase against the intricately carved wood of the headboard as your god slams his cock deep into you, one hand digging its fingers into your butt cheek while the other grabs hold of one of the horns. The tug isn’t harsh, but it’s enough to force your head back and spine arching in a way that present your ass perfectly for him.

Gibberish. That’s all the words tumbling from your mouth are, but the moans and whimpers are easy enough to understand and they spur the man on.

You’re already keening from the impending bliss when a cold hand snakes around your hips to find the slippery folds and the tiny nerve bundle hidden away there. A few circular rubs is all it takes before you come undone, screaming silently with pleasure.

“My…qu-queennn!”

Cold and hot liquids mix within you, taking away your attention from the sharp bite on your shoulder. Moments later, the two of you have collapsed in an ungraceful heap of tangled limbs and sloppy kisses. Somehow the golden horns disappear on their own.

“I’m gonna…gonna wear that more…often,” you manage to gasp.

The arm that ensnares you and pulls you close is still blue. Big and strong and absolutely perfect like the chest you snuggle against.

“But now we sleep, my dear.”

Get ready cos here I come I'm about to come and get me some Hot as a smoking gets

36 notes · View notes

jjbaconsumedmysoul · 7 years

Note

I really loved that Wamuu/Reader fic that you did! Do you think you could write one where the reader is a hamon user and a star-crossed relationship begins?

Wamuu x Reader (star crossed lovers): “Master” *A/n: I feel like I’m running out of title ideas 😂 ! oh well!*

The seconds ticked by slowly, and you heard no commotion from the cave entrance. You stepped out of the car and into the night air, admiring the view of the ancient Roman architecture just outside the entrance. Still, nothing. You groaned. You wanted to fight. You weren’t merely a watchdog. Caesar and Joseph and the other two had walked into the depths of the cavern almost ten minutes ago, and you were beginning to think that their power hadn’t been enough. Though Caesar hated to admit it, your power was quite a bit stronger than his, and posting you outside the cave had not been a wise decision.

But then, you heard a faint cry cut through the darkness, and your muscles stiffened as you readied yourself to enter the to enter the underground labyrinth.

However, before you could come to their rescue, a man emerged. He was massive, at least two meters tall. His body was golden and his muscles seemed to glimmer in the moonlight under a thin sheen of sweat. There was something ethereal about his strong stance, his powerful movements, and he seemed to radiate a sort of aggressiveness about him. You were entranced by his very appearance, and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of being he was, what sort of person he was. Just what was it that drew you to him?

Then you noticed the blood. Small splatters of crimson decorated his body. This had to be the enemy they had warned you of. He barely took notice of you as you crouched to attack.

Unlike Caesar with his special little bubble trick and Lisa Lisa with her scarf ability, you used Hamon in the purest form. It was your own unique skill, and none knew why exactly you had it. But you were able to slice your Hamon through thin air, almost like lightning. You weren’t extremely strong or fast or skilled in hand to hand combat, but your blasts of pure sunlight energy were deadly. As long as the enemy remained a fair distance away from your defenseless body, you were almost invincible.

You flung your whip of crackling Hamon forward at the man, striking him straight in the chest. His eyes flashed in surprise and he emitted a low choking noise before crumpling to the ground. You had delivered a blow straight to the heart, and as he didn’t even make a move to dodge, so the battle should have been over. But you stood, frozen, at the sight.

He had fallen to his knee, remaining still as the gaping hole in his chest began to patch itself up. You stared in horror as the muscle slowly mended itself and the flesh proceeded to cover the wound, leaving his chest pristine as it had been before your attack. He stood.

He was still quite far away from you, but you could feel the intimidation of his glare as he took a step closer. Quickly, you propelled a ray of hamon at his shoulder, almost as a warning shot to keep him away. He staggered backwards a bit. However, his eyes never left yours, and he took another step. You struck his thigh. He collapsed, yet maintained eye contact even as his leg smoked and shriveled. It took at least half a minute for these wounds to mend, but he studied you all the while. His expression changed from that of wrath to a sort of pensiveness. He seemed inquisitive, almost childlike as he took in your form. He began to stand.

“Don’t move!” You blurted out the words. And, oddly, he obeyed you.

“What are you?” His voice was deep and commanding, though the tone behind it was more curious than anything. “What is this power?” his stern grimace softened as he spoke. “Is this some strange new form of Hamon?” You could hardly speak. Two other men emerged from the tunnel, and you stiffened your stance again.

“Come, Wamuu.” The man in the head scarf spoke to the one kneeling before you. “This one looks small and weak. Just kill her and we’ll be on our way.” Wamuu’s face seemed to flush at the command, and he stood again to tower over you. But you could see the conflict behind his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes master,” He lunged at you, but you sent two bolts of hamon to either arm, pulling him down to your knees before you. He stared up at you in awe. “I… I can’t.” His master’s face seemed to twitch in disgust.

“Finish her. Esidisi and I will go along ahead.” He sprung at least five meters into the air, landing on a ledge of the Coliseum. The other man followed, as if it were no great feat. You wanted to pursue them, to keep track of their every movement, to stop them from leaving.

But Wamuu lunged at you again, and you gasped as his hand reached just inches from your face, parrying the strike with a quick jolt of lightning. His leg swept underneath your knees, and you fell harshly to your back. Before he could strike again, however, you used both hands to send a powerful beam of light throwing him back several meters. He slid across the ground as you panted your way to standing, feeling a sharp pain in your calf. You had never had such a fierce opponent. The adrenaline rushed through your body, your fists trembled with excitement…Were you enjoying the fight?

He charged for your midsection, but somehow you evaded his grasp as you dodged to the side and he collapsed to the ground. He hesitated as he regained his stance, slowly rising to his feet. You could see some indecision in his eyes. Consideration, hesitation. Then, his face seemed to express a sort of defeat.

You sprung backwards as he began to take a long, deep breath. Suddenly, his headpiece began to change shape. A large horn seemed to drill itself out of his head, and you felt a storm of wind begin to whip around you. Panicking, you fired a barrage of rays at his head, but each one seemed to be blocked by dangling ornaments that extended themselves to absorb the Hamon. His eyes were closed, as if he were in a state of deep meditation. His arms extended in front of him, slowly beginning to spin. You shot bolt after bolt at his forearms, and, though he winced at the momentary pain, his movements slowed only temporarily. You frantically pushed every ounce of strength you had into the onslaught of lightning, but nothing seemed to work as winds battered your face, your clothes, and left you gasping for breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as they began to dry painfully in the stinging air.

But suddenly, the storm slowed. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, to find his face just inches from yours. His hand reached for your face.

It was over. You knew, as soon as one of your enemies so much as laid a hand on you, you were dead. Your body was but a mere lump of flesh compared to the hulking physical specimen before you. You tried your hardest to send a jolt of Hamon through your flesh, but his palm cupped your cheek like there was no barrier against him. You gasped.

His grip was delicate as he turned your chin upwards so he could examine your face.

“What are you?”

You still couldn’t believe he had spared your life that day. You were terrified of telling Lisa Lisa anything that had happened that night at the Coliseum. You told them that you’d never even seen the Pillar Men, you just waited outside the cave until Joseph and Caesar emerged, wounded and bloodied. Thankfully they never noticed your heightened nervousness and the small bruises that were cropping up all over your body.

You could swear you caught glimpses of him whenever you roamed through the city. Sometimes you caught a flash of blue eyes in a dark alley, or a flash of metal jewelry as you whipped around to check the corner behind you. He never attacked. You merely sensed his presence.

And you didn’t really mind it. The Pillar men intrigued you, in a way. He intrigued you. You didn’t want to notify Lisa Lisa of his prowling the streets of Venice. And yet you wanted Kars to be stopped. So, when Lisa Lisa, Caesar, and Joseph were forced to track the Red Stone of Aja all the way to Switzerland, you stayed behind. It was a weak choice on your behalf. You knew it was weak. You knew you were a coward. But you wanted to separate yourselves from the Pillar men entirely. The best way to rid yourself of even the very thought of Wamuu was to stay behind and care for Suzie Q. That was what you believed.

You had tucked in Suzie. Though she had healed mostly, she was still a bit feeble, and you wanted to do your best to care for her. You yawned as you made your way to your own bedroom, ready to have a nice quiet night after everyone had left for the Swiss mountains. But you paused as you entered the chamber.

The doors to the balcony swung open, and a light breeze blew in from the cool starlit night outside. Your eyes widened, and gasped in surprise as you saw the gargantuan figure looming over your dresser. Your face flushed as you noticed the top drawer was open, and he raided through your various… personal items.

“WAMUU!” You shouted. You hadn’t meant to even say anything, but he quickly turned around and fell to one knee, focusing his eyes on the ground before him. You stood there for a moment, awkwardly, squirming, as he remained still. You almost let out a nervous chuckle. “W-What are you doing?” Apparently he saw your words as permission to rise and approach you, though you instinctively took a step back as his body cleared your effective Hamon range. He lifted his eyebrows in confusion, but merely remained rigid in place, as if he were waiting for orders.

“Greetings, my Master (y/n).” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at this. Your heart still pumped rapidly in your chest, but you were still somewhat thrilled to see him again.

“I’m not your master,” you tilted your head, inquisitively. “Kars is your master. And you should be with him right now. Go find the stone, Wamuu.” You took a shuddering breath as you said his name, breaking eye contact to stare at the floor. “Please, leave me. It won’t do any good for either of us.” His mouth began to form words, but no sound came, as an expression of dismay lit his face. He took another step forward, his hand outstretched towards your, but you raised your fists threateningly.

“You are my master now.”

What?

Your head felt light. You could hear the flow of blood pounding in your ears. Your fists began to tremble. What sort of trick was he playing on you?

“Wamuu, I swear, if this is some sort of joke, some sort of trap–”

“My loyalty now lies with you. When I served Master Kars,” He paused to collect his words. “I only strove to please him. I fought his battles, I obeyed his every command. But there was no meaning behind it.” You found yourself inching closer to him, so curious, so desperately curious about this being. It was clear how much he enjoyed the battle: how he craved using his strength, his power, his skill. Admittedly, that was something the two of you shared. But you had always thought he was a cold automaton, a servant of Kars who could barely even contemplate the idea of independence.

Yet here he was, standing before you, proclaiming his decision.

“I don’t have much experience with humans,” he confessed. “I never even noticed they were there until the first Hamon user stepped into my path. The were all so easily breakable,” His jaw began to tighten as his eyes flashed with memories of battle. “But you were the first formidable opponent I have had in eons. I want to learn about you, about your ways. Please, teach me.”

You were shocked by his eloquence, by his self-awareness, by the gentle soul that was masked by this monstrosity of a body. He was now too close for you to even keep your guard up, but you embraced the vulnerability. Slowly, you lifted your palms to cup his face in your hands. His cheeks flushed in what seemed to be confusion.

“What… What are you doing, master?” You reddened as well, knowing that the concept of romance was quite probably foreign to him. But if you just went for it, if you took away everything holding you back, if you just focused on the moment… Maybe he would follow along.

You gently pulled his lips down to meet yours. You could sense his tension at first: his hands lying stiff at his sides, his mouth tightly clenched. You kissed him tenderly, again and again tilting his head so you could deepen the embrace. But he didn’t respond.

You sighed a bit in defeat, as you pulled back to look at his face. He gazed back at you, his eyebrows raised, his fingers unconsciously grazing his lips where your kisses had been just a moment ago. Maybe there was some hope…

“I enjoyed that,” His deep voice was hesitant. “Master, please, do it again.” You chuckled and you could feel your heart leap in your chest at his innocent words.

“You don’t have to call me master, Wamuu.” You wrapped your hands around his muscular neck. “But, yes. I can do it again.” You leaned in, and this time was met with his own passionate touch.

His hands grasped your waist, a bit awkwardly, but you still felt your stomach flutter as his lips sucked hungrily. His body was warm and firm as you dragged your palms down his golden chest. He seemed to be following every instinct that came to his mind, as he nibbled gently at your bottom lip, licked the corner of your mouth, ran his fingers up and down your sides. His hands explored every curve, every crevice, as he pulled you close to his massive torso. You melted in the warmth and comfort of his breast, as he began to massage your scalp. A light moan escaped from your lips, but you could tell it ignited him even further as he bucked his hips against yours. You gasped.

Suddenly, he pulled away, his hair disheveled, his face red with more than embarrassment. For a moment, he merely stared, inspecting you up and down. You could see the desire, the hunger in those beautiful eyes.

“Master– I mean, (y/n). Are you sure you are alright with this? I know that physical contact is your one weakness–” You pressed a finger to his lips.

“I trust you Wamuu.”

#wammu #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #request #reader insert #i'm tired pls tell me if i made a stupid mistake

94 notes · View notes