Warnings: Female!Reader, NSFW
Translations and important notes: There’s no time for me to edit this so please enjoy before I probably regret this in the near future lol
Also please read the previous parts, this won’t make sense otherwise!
“The messengers have left,” Nobunaga announces, pouring you a cup of tea. You murmur your thanks as you take it from his hands, shyness suddenly sinking in under your skin. The thin fabric of the juban kimono you’re wearing feels a lot airier that you are used to, what with the outer layer being discarded and all—it’s as if you were naked.
But so goes the ceremony, because the deity in front of you wears similar clothing. Plain white fabric wraps around his muscled limbs and torso, covering just enough skin to be presentable but also sheer enough to reveal places that are especially… tight. You swallow your anticipation down your throat as you remember what he told you earlier.
Don’t be shy. These, he gestured to your juban sleeve, will not be needed for later.
“After the sun sets, they should arrive at your village with my message and look at the contents of the box I sent them to ascertain that you’ve been made my bride,” he begins, sipping his own tea casually. Your hands trace a part of your hair that is uneven, cut for evidence. “I have made it known that their customs will no longer stay the same.”
“What will happen after?”
He looks at you, downs the contents of his cup, and motions you to come closer toward him. You do as you’re told. There’s a letter on his mahogany desk, speaking in detail of how the head priest will no longer have the privilege to communicate with him, and all the other changes he has decided to make within his temple of worship. You see the word ‘bride’ inscribed many times within the instructions. It hasn’t quite sunk in that the bride is you.
“I shall have the village’s craftsmen engrave this onto stone, so as to not have it fade with time,” he says, gazing at the piece of paper. “But before I deliver this message, there is something else that needs to be done.”
Then he turns to look at you, a kindling fire in his eyes, and you resist the urge to sigh. The very same heat burns at the bottom of your gut—a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
“I know,” you quietly reply. He reaches for your face, thumb gently caressing the flesh of your rapidly reddening cheek. His gaze is passionate, longing, a show of all those emotions restrained by his own deep affections towards you. You realize that he has waited for so long. It’s a miracle he’s remained patient so far.
“You know, but are you willing?”
You’re not sure what motivates you to move towards him. Desperation? Submission? Either way, you find yourself situated on his lap, his hands quickly finding your waist to keep you there. Something within his eyes flashes dangerously, something ready to strike. You stop breathing. Maybe he does too, because he looks tense—within the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, he has never appeared more human than he does now. Craving, like a man starved. You feel your body growing hotter by the moment at the thought of driving a literal god into a state of such need.
“To be honest,” you begin, linking your hands behind his neck, “when I first met you, something inside of me changed. Like I somehow became awake.” Carnelian eyes never once gaze away from yours, and it normally would have shied you away from him even more, but not this time. As your voice drops into a whisper, there’s a rumble in his chest, as if there are thunderclouds threatening to unfurl.
“I’ve never felt this way before, but ever since that day, I want you.”
Nobunaga grabs one of your wrists and brings your hand to his lips, kissing and nipping at your palm. A shaky breath escapes you. The slightest of his touch brings you to heights you’ve never climbed before, every calculated slide of his tongue on your skin a drug of pleasure. He sucks on your fingers.
“It will do you good to remember those words,” he finally says, letting your index finger go with a wet pop of his mouth. “I’ll use them against you if you dare complain later.” The telltale signs of a smirk enters his face, and before he can throw you a smug look, you press a chaste kiss against his lips, murmuring voiceless against them.
With a grunt, his hand flies to the back of your head, pulling you infinitely closer. His lips mesh against yours in a sacred dance, open-mouthed and desperate for a taste of you he has longed for. As the western side of the room bleeds orange from the sunset, your eyes flow with tears, your hands slowly roaming his chest and shoulders just to convince you it’s all real. He’s incredibly warm, the sensation rolling off his skin inviting, the hand on your lower back especially so. You can hear each kiss. The sound travels down your spine each time with a jolt of arousal, settling between your thighs that already feel too hot for you to withstand. He seems to know, hand snaking down to rub against your leg while the other begins work on your flimsy clothing. He never stops kissing you.
“Nobunaga,” you gasp his name, and he groans impatiently in response. Nimble fingers swiftly untie the knot that keeps your outfit together. With a simple tug it unravels almost completely, revealing so much of your skin you immediately feel cold. Your lover doesn’t waste a single second, diving towards your neck to press his lips against you as he moves to undress you completely. Helpless, your hand scrambles on his chest, parting the collar so that you won’t be the only one naked.
He already has your clothes open right down the middle now, and the notion of modesty disappears from whatever consciousness the two of you clutch on to. Ravenous and wanting, his lips move down to your collarbone, tongue marking every inch it encounters, before finally he arrives at your breast. You feel his ragged sigh against your chest before you’re engulfed in heat—his mouth, latching onto a turgid peak like a babe, while he continues your work of undressing himself. Another easy tug and he’s already taking his arms out of the sleeves.
You watch everything he is—he is circling your nipple with his tongue, he is quickly taking his clothes off, the muscles of his arms and back rippling in the process. Heavens, he’s a deity, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he turns out to be painfully beautiful. You moan when his teeth comes into play, lightly scraping your sensitive skin, and when he uses his hand to fondle your other breast, you can’t help but dig your nails into his forearms. He chuckles, vibrations travelling from his mouth to your nipple.
Again, his name escapes your helpless lips, and it fuels him to give you more. He pleasures both peaks equally, growing rougher by the second, leaving your chest slick with his saliva and tingling with stimulation. Before you can register anything, he’s propped you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist so he can carry you to the futon in the center of the room. Somehow your juban slips down your back, leaving you completely bare against him.
He lays you down, and with a predatory glint in his eyes, he discards his own robe before joining you. The silk beneath you feels exquisite, but his body feels better, enough to make you lose whatever little sense you have left in you. Welcoming him with an open-mouthed kiss, you let your tongues taste each other as your fingers delicately explore his chest. A palm on his left rib cage lets you feel his heartbeat—fast and warm.
“Look at me,” he commands, and you can’t help but obey.
The fire in his eyes burns brighter the lower he moves. He delivers kisses on your skin—shoulders, breasts, stomach, hipbone. He sees your chest heave with each inhale and exhale, a sign that you’re aware where this is going, yet your eyes never once leave his.
He spreads your thighs and you close your eyes in embarrassment.
A finger creeps up to touch you there, travelling upwards from under, collecting your wetness until it finally comes to rest on a bundle of nerves. He presses, only lightly, but the pleasure is so overwhelming you let out a loud moan. Lust courses within his veins as he continues playing with you, circling and pressing and flicking at the sensitive nub. You are at his mercy all the while, only capable of thrashing and squirming at his ministrations.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long,” is the only thing he allows himself to say before leaning forward. His lips latch against your cunt, making you scream as his tongue immediately goes to work, replacing his fingertip. You’re reduced to a hot mess as he sucks on your clit, tongue occasionally dipping into you, while his fingers inserted to the knuckle. Your hands clutch at his hair. It’s so much, but so overwhelmingly good, you find it hard to breathe.
“Ah, ah, ah,” you moan, your hips jerking up with each thrust of his fingers, “nngh, please—”
“Patience,” he mutters, never once letting his lips leave your core. He’s panting.
“I can’t,” you reply, the thought of not reaching the edge too painful to bear, “I need to—ah, I need to cum!”
“So impatient,” comes his answer, but then he adds one more finger inside of you and his tongue encompasses your clit, delivering fast flicks, and you can feel yourself racing towards the peak.
“Nobunaga!” You wail, voice hoarse from overexertion. White fills your vision and you feel it—a coil snapping, your release spurting out from the crux of your thighs where he’s already waiting, readily drinking every single drop that you can offer. He moans loudly at your essence, ravenously devouring you until you’re overstimulated and clean. When he looks up at you, his chin is glistening.
“You never did keep your eyes on me,” he says, reaching a hand towards the edge of your lips and wiping his thumb against it. You’ve been drooling. A wave of shyness takes over you—how utterly ruined you must look before him right now, but there’s no time to feel ashamed, because he already has you pinned under him, his throbbing member prodding against your core. You let out a weak sigh.
He enters you in one slick thrust and you can’t help the sound escaping your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure at the same time. He’s big. The inside of your mouth turns dry even as he offers his own to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and your insides clench at the thought. He’s towering above you, strong and unmovable, peering down at you to gauge your expression. You slide your arms around his neck.
Nobunaga hisses at your tightness enveloping him. It feels too good to be true, the culmination of his long years of waiting, you and him becoming one. Just the thought of it is enough to drive him mad. Suddenly he can’t wait any longer.
A gentle thrust of his hips, and you mewl—a distinct sound of pleasure. He knows you’re beginning to enjoy this, and he’s right, because you are quickly hypnotized by the sensation blooming between your legs. Fullness. Nobunaga presses his lips against your ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe as he pants. Both your hips and his are equally eager, chasing the ecstasy that is release. Faster.
“More,” you whisper, and it’s so sensual he nearly loses it.
He urges your legs to wrap around him, allowing him to go deeper. The two of you moan in unison at the newness of it, but he doesn’t stop—he cannot. Not when you’re so hot and wet around him, not when you’re moaning his name louder with each breath, not when he’s so hell-bent on making you his. His—yes, finally. Centuries and now you’re here, in the flesh, wrapping around him like velvet. You’re his.
“I love you,” he says before kissing you again, deeper and more passionate than all the others combine, and the piston of his hips turn wild. You writhe, unable to contain the euphoria of your orgasm.
He releases inside of you just as the sun sinks under the horizon, but a glow emerges from underneath your skin and his, just as golden as daylight. Blanketed by the brightness, the two of you kiss, with him still pressing his hips insistently against yours. You feel him, hot and wet inside of you, and you feel so incredibly full you might cum again from the sheer pleasure of it. His arms move to bring you against him as he gently rests his weight on top of you, not wanting to let go just yet.
“Finally,” you hear him sigh. “You’re finally mine.”
Those words alone are enough to make your heart feel incredibly full, so you lean forward to kiss him, soft and gentle on his lips. He reciprocates, and when you part, the glow fades until it disappears altogether, leaving you and him alone in the room. Nobunaga almost reluctantly unsheathes himself, and you feel his juices and yours leaking out of you—perhaps you’re turning into something indecent, because you immediately sense the arousal travelling up your spine.
“Happy,” you answer, combing his hair back to reveal more of his handsome face, “but I was hoping I could return the favor somehow…”
He catches the implication, and the smirk he sends you makes your heart jump. “It’s only nightfall. We have until dawn.” His hands sneak up your chest, moving to fondle them again.
