one neat implication of the ancient elves not really having "roads" and instead having eluvians is like
it REALLY enforces control of all transportation/security checkpoints? smuggling anything/moving between population centres would be so difficult, bc either you would have to hike through the ghilan'nain's creature infested wilderness for months to get anywhere, or you would need to somehow get past the evanuris security measures that would be controlling access to each eluvian entrance and exit...
also my hottest take is that: since dirthamen is described as being falon'din's "reflection" and may have been associated with mirrors, imo, his Unique Trick was not necessarily moving through eluvians, but tracking who/what passes through them, and being able to "see" out of them. really adds to the unsettling surveillance vibes of ancient elven society imo! plus then that adds an interesting feature of him being able to... idk. snoop on the passcodes being used? or just note who used the eluvians if they're under surveillance, and then pick them up and get the information from them to get access to their network?
This is all so fucked are they intentionally signifying that his relationship with his actual mom that gave him away to the torture labyrinth actually isn’t any better than with the torture labyrinth operator himself and has essentially the exact same manipulative absolute power dynamic that renders him disturbingly obedient that he does with Sidious or is it just sort of a coincidence that no one put any especially deep thought into it’s literally 50/50 with star wars.
Nanami had never considered himself a jealous man.
possessive, perhaps, in small ways. protective? certainly.
but jealousy? it was messy. the sort of thing that clouded judgement and made people act irrationally.
Nanami preferred facts.
and the fact was that you were free to spend time with anyone. the fact that your smile didn't belong to him. and the fact that he trusted you completely.
but why—why had he spent the last twenty minutes staring at his phone?
the photo on the screen was harmless for god's sake!
a group picture from a company dinner. you sat near the center, smiling oh so sweetly to the camera.
but the problem is there was a man sitting beside you.
nothing appropriate or suspicious. just a coworker. a coworker whose arm was slung casually over the back of your chair.
a coworker who seemed to appear in every photos your friend posted. a coworker whose name you had mentioned bunch of times this week without realizing it.
Nanami locked his phone and set it face down on the table.
he hated this feeling. Not because he distrusted you.
there was no reason for the knot tightening in his chest.
there is no logical explanation for why he suddenly found himself wondering whether you smiled that brightly around everyone. or whether you looked at everyone the way you looked at him.
the apartment door opened suddenly, snapping him out of his trance.
"Kento?" your voice drifted through the hallway.
you stepped into the living room, smiling when you saw him.
"There you are."
Nanami returned the smile automatically.
but as you sat beside him and started talking about your day, he found himself listening for one name. and when it finally appeared in the conversation? his jaw tightened.
your words faltered. "Kento?" you looked at him carefully.
for a moment, neither of you spoke.
then, quietly, you asked. "Is there something wrong?"
he met your gaze briefly before looking away.
the silenced stretched. not uncomfortable, just heavy. Nanami wasn't entirely sure how to answer.
you knew your husband too well to notice when something was off.
"Kento."
"Hm."
"You're doing that thing."
his brows furrowed slightly. "What thing?"
"The thing where you pretend nothing's bothering you."
you moved closer on the couch, turning toward him fully.
"Did something happen at work?"
"No."
"Did someone annoy you?"
"Not particularly."
"Are you tired?"
"Always."
your expression only softened.
your fingers reached for his hand without thinking. you interwined your fingers with his.
"C'mon, talk to me?"
you waited patiently, giving him space to speak.
Nanami hated that he was making this difficult.
eventually, he said, "Who is he?"
you blinked. "...who?"
"The coworker."
your eyes widened slightly. "Oh."
for several seconds, you said nothing.
then, "Are you jealous?"
Nanami closed his eyes briefly. "Perhaps," he sighed.
your expression softened even further.
you shifted closer until your shoulder rested against his.
"I found him annoying," you started. "He talks too much, he steals food, he's arrogant too."
the corner of Nanami's mouth twitched. you caught it immediately.
"There he is."
"I was here the entire time."
"No, you were somewhere in your own head."
you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.
"I don't smile because of him," you sighed. "I smile because i was having fun."
his gaze softened. "I know," he admitted.
"Then why are you suffering by yourself?"
a faint huff escaped him, not quite a laugh.
"Because," he pulled your joined hands closer. "I was hoping it would stop if i ignored it."
"Did it work?"
"No."
you laughed. "That was unfortunate."
he laughed along with you. "It was."
the knot in his chest began to loosen.
not because the jealousy had vanished. but because you were looking at him exactly the way you always had.
"quit fuckin' squirming, i'm not even halfway in." ☆
toji has never been a patient man. ever. it's why he's so careful not to end up in prison: he couldn't bear all of that fucking waiting.
he's no different when it comes to you. groans when you take too long to get ready. groans when you're on the phone too long with your friends. whines and bitches when you need an extra minute to get used to the size of his fat cock inside of you.
"you're too big, asshole," you bite, laid out on your back as you try to regulate your breathing. you've taken him to the base countless times before, but he's been away on a job for weeks and you've tightened up somewhat in the process of waiting around for him to get back. "go slow."
"i am going slow," toji makes a show of waving a hand out in front of him, for some reason. "i know what slow is. this is slow."
"what are you, a fucking Doctor Who time lord or something now?" you roll your eyes and make a point of over-enunciating: "slower."
"the hell is your problem? you were begging me for dick the second i got home. i'm giving you what you want."
"i asked for dick, not a perineal tear."
"what the fuck is a peri—" toji shakes his head. "you're making up words to make me feel stupid. i thought we weren't doing that anymore."
you consider arguing some more, but you aren't willing to risk toji getting frustrated and thrusting into you too quickly because he has the emotional regulation skills of a wooden spoon. "caught me."
"can't get things past me," he muses, inching just a little further into you. the stretch has you hissing. "too much?"
you shake your head and offer your big and stupid man a soft smile. he may bitch and complain, but your comfort will always be his first and last thought. "it's okay, i think i'm starting to get used to—oh my fucking god toji i said slow!"
toji halts his hips where he had started pushing into you even deeper. "ah, fuck this," he growls, snaking a large hand beneath the small of your back and using it to flip the two of you over like you're fish in a skillet. without letting his cock lose any of its progress inside of you, he situates your bodies so that you're seated on his length. "better? you go at your own pace."
you're about to comment on how 'your own pace' would likely result in him getting so impatient he dies right then and there on the old sheets, but the sudden addition of gravity into your bedroom activities has the air leaving your lungs.
naturally, your body sinks down on his cock little by little despite your knees keeping you upright. his strong hands gently tugging you down by the hips isn't doing much to help either.
still, progress has been made. a few rough circles around your clit with is thick fingertips and you're relaxing enough to sit almost fully on his inhumanly large cock. you really do think he needs to be studied somewhere.
"note that i'm not complaining about waiting," toji says, probably not realising he's inadvertently complaining about waiting by doing so.
you smile down at your lover nonetheless and plant both of your hands down on his built chest. "what a good boy," you grin, finally rolling your hips down against him. "being so well behaved and waiting. do you want a treat? a sticker maybe?"
"oh yeah?" toji grits, lifting his hips in a sharp upward thrust that both throws you off balance and forces his cock so incredibly deep inside of you that you might now need medical intervention to separate the two of you. "shut the fuck up."
"oh my god," you choke on your breath and wonder if perhaps you now know what an ego death feels like. "fuck, toji."
he smiles at the shocked look of pleasure on your face and repeats the motion again and again until you're too stupid to tease him any longer.
- sworn protector!gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader
synopsis. You drink wine that someone mixed with something that makes you desire touch more than all else. Touch from someone particular. You need his touch, or you’ll die. Luckily, your sister—the queen—can be quite the matchmaker.
contents. SMUT, no war au (rhaenyra is queen), reader is a targaryen princess and rhaenyra's younger sister, gwayne is her sworn protector, reader has fem anatomy and is addressed as a princess, sex pollen/fuck or die, mentions of suicide, oral (f!recieving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, p in v, finger sucking, slight praise kink, not proofread
Your body burns.
No, it feels more like if your body was actually truly burning in a fire, perhaps from that of your dragon, as if you’d told it to rain flames upon you. You may consider that option if it comes down to it. If someone didn’t touch you soon, you were going to explode.
Instead you were writhing and squirming on your bed in front of your own sister—the queen—and you would much rather be dead. She looks at you with that callous smirk, as if she thinks she knows something. Something you don’t want to tell the maesters.
“Is it poison?” she questions Grand Maester Gerardys, her arms crossed on her chest.
He nods. “It seems as so. We believe it is from the wine she drank at supper.”
“Can’t you open a window?!” you yell with a cracking voice.
Silence fills the room after the outburst. Both Rhaenyra and Gerardys glance over. You do the same once you see a smile fall over her face, one she fails to bite back.
The windows are open.
“All of the windows are open, princess,” Gerardys mumbles.
“Yes, I can see that now, thank you.” Your head falls back onto the pillow, allowing your dampened hair to reconnect with your sweaty nape and back. “Will I die tonight, Gerardys?” you question, almost joking.
“No, no, princess,” he says. “Not tonight.”
Your head shoots back up from its resting position. Rhaenyra is already looking at him, any sign of her former coyness erased from her features.
“It seems the poison was mixed with the wine,” he begins. “Therefore, unless the culprit is found, it will be quite difficult to tell whatever was infused in the drink. And given your symptoms, unless somehow magically cured, there is not much I can do.”
“Not much you can do?” Rhaenyra exclaims, her arms now at her side.
Gerardys lowers his voice and steps closer to her. “Not unless you would like me to find a maegi.”
She takes one look over at you. You look full of fear, full of suffering, but most of all—full of regret. “That wont be necessary,” she mutters. “If you’ll let me speak to my sister alone?”
“Of course, your grace.” He leaves the room. Rhaenyra watches him go, not looking back until the door swings back shut.
She makes her way to your bedside so swiftly it was as if she was running. The screech of the chair she pulls to sit on hurts your ears more than any of the conversation you had just been put through. You wish your protector was here instead. He would be able to help you. He would have to help you.
“Tell me,” she commands, already leaning forward, her hands folded in her lap.
You lift your body off the sheets, but they stick to you as you rise. “Tell you what?”
“Don’t play the fool. You know what I’m referring to,”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t, Your Grace.”
She scoffs out a laugh after that. Two of her fingers settle on the bridge of her nose. “Your condition is of your own volition. If you tell me what you drank, it will be easier for me to find a solution.”
You look at her. She isn’t smiling. There’s no hidden agenda beneath her stoic expression, none of the small facial cues you spent your childhood learning to decipher. She truly wants to help you.
And your body feels like it could give out at any moment. No, you want it to give out at any moment. You’re starting to feel nauseous.
You’ll do about anything to stop whatever you did to yourself.
You exhale a heavy breath. “You mustn’t tell anyone what I did.”
Rhaenyra lets herself crack a smile. “Gods, sister, what did you do?”
“I am unwed. Undesired,” you mumble. “I thought it clever to…”
“To what?” Rhaenyra presses, leaning closer.
You sigh and cover your face with your hands. You mutter something so quiet you don’t even hear it in your own ears.
“What did you say?” she asks softly.
“I had a potion brewed.”
Rhaenyra lets out a sharp breath through her nose. “Oh, Gods, sister—“
“You don’t understand! The Realm’s Delight, the most beautiful maiden in all of the Seven Kingdoms—you could have anyone and anything you desire!” you argue. “It isn’t the same for me. Even if it were, I don’t get to choose—”
“I’ve heard enough.” You finally remove your hands from your face, both now sheen with a layer of sweat as is the rest of your body. Rhaenyra is now standing at the edge of your bed, pacing back and forth. “When you had the potion brewed, did the alchemist tell you of any cure?”
“No…” you mumble.
“Well.” Rhaenyra sighs. She gazes over at you, but avoids your own. “I can presume what it is.”
You know what remains unsaid. It is torturous enough for your own sister to know of the humiliation you’ve brought upon yourself. For her, the queen, to be made uncomfortable by the revelation? You get a sudden urge to throw yourself from the highest point of the Red Keep. It would cure all of the emotions swirling in your head.
The writhing starts all over again. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your own body. In your peripheral, you can see Rhaenyra stop moving. She faces forward to look at you as you thrash around the mattress.
“I know what must be done,” she says. And she leaves the room.
You are left alone in your torture. Now seems about the best time to consider your future. You could jump from the window. It would be quick. You’d be remembered as tragic. Never wed, without children, lonely, jumped from her bedroom window after being poisoned—Rhaenyra would spread the word of poison. She wouldn’t subject the public to the truth.
You suck in a breath as you rise from the bed, dragging your feet to the window. The air fanning on your face makes you hopeful for about fives seconds before the sun finally catches on your skin and shines over the moisture on your skin.
The ache in your body almost certifies that you wouldn’t be able to hoist yourself onto the windowsill without some help.
Maybe your protector would help you. You could say you need more air. He certainly wouldn’t help cure your self-inflicted debilitation—he is too honorable. No—he’s too insistent on protecting your honor to do anything to you.
The door swings open again.
Rhaenyra enters first. You watch her panic once she does not immediately spot you on the bed, then watch her settle once she finds you by the window. There is someone behind her.
The person unveils themself from the shadows.
It is your sworn shield and protector. Ser Gwayne Hightower.
He steps into the room, and it is like your legs turn to water. He notices this, and dashes across the room to wrap his arms around your waist, stabilizing you. Once you are brought back to your feet, you let out a moan. It is almost embarrassing, but you couldn’t care less now.
Gwayne is touching you. Sometimes, the Gods do work in your favor. You slowly look up at him. He is already staring down at you, concerned at your condition, of course—and probably confused as to why you just moaned when he touched you—and you place a hand on his shoulder. Your other arm wraps around his bicep.
“I shall leave you to it.” Rhaenyra is out of the room with a slam of the door before you can look over to acknowledge her. When you look back, Gwayne still has his gaze fixed on you.
The contact you share feels truly breathtaking, perhaps because it is. It does feel quite hard to take in any air. You find your body inching closer to his, desperate for closer proximity. You feel your nipples, hard under your smallclothes, brush against his gambeson. You let your head fall onto his sternum, and it is then that you realize what you are doing, and immediately push away.
You stumble back to the bed, sitting on its edge, and shame washes over you. Gwayne hasn’t moved from his spot by the window. He still stares at you, however.
“My princess.” He steps closer. You hold up a finger as if to tell him to stop, and he does. “I cannot bear to see you in this condition. I only wish to help.”
“Help with what?” you breathe.
He remains silent.
“What exactly did Rhaenyra tell you?” you question.
Silence.
“Tell me. I command it.”
His gaze shifts to the ground. “Her Grace informed me of your condition.”
“You already knew of my condition. What else did she tell you?”
He looks back up at you. “She revealed to me the nature of your condition. What exactly brought it on.”
“Gods,” you mutter under your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. This cannot be real.
“How it can be cured,” he adds.
Your brows tighten. You hope that when you open your eyes again, he will be gone, and this will all have been a figment of your imagination.
When you do so, you find that this is the realest he has ever been. Ser Gwayne of House Hightower, in all his glory. He glistens in the flare of the sun. His hair, usually a light brown, shimmers auburn in the light. It looks similar to his sister’s in a certain light.
You can see the resemblance, him and his father. You would rather not, but it is there. He is certainly more alluring.
“I want to help you.” He takes a single step closer. “I need to help you.”
Your head is cocked to the side, though only out of exhaustion. It feels to heavy to carry yourself.
“When you swore yourself as my protector, I vowed that I would ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. What do you reckon this is?” you scoff out a laugh, feeling the whole situation truly ironic.
“It would not bring me dishonor if nobody discovers it.” His voice is low. He closes the window, then moves to close the other. “In fact, I swore first to protect you from any and all harm. I believe that prevails over bringing me dishonor.” You watch him then as he travels to the door. The lock clicks shut, and the sound of it travels to your core.
Not only is he able, he is willing.
He turns back to you, and you lock eyes. His brows are turned upwards at the corners—it is true, desperate concern etched onto his face. You can only imagine how disheveled you look.
You sigh, but it comes out as more of a moan, and let your head hang low.
Gwayne is across the room in a moment, kneeling down in front of you. He removes the gloves from his hands, settling them on the ground beside him, and then places his hands on your clothed thighs. The contact draws the linens slightly upwards. How you wish he would just slide them all the way up and just kiss your cun—
You close your eyes and draw in a long breath.
“Tell me what you need,” he purrs. Your eyes shoot back open, and his hands move to hold your hips. “I am yours.”
You want to. Gods, who are you kidding? You need to tell him, because he will do it, but you can’t. The words freeze on your tongue. Where do you even start?
But he is knelt before you, almost pathetic in his attempt at a remedy, so eager on helping you.
Why must you tell him?
You grab the cloth at your thighs and curl your fingers enough times until it is bunched up near your crotch. All that prevents him from laying eyes on your bare cunt is closed legs. You let them spread, gruelingly slow, pushing Gwayne’s hands from your hips in the process.
He does not look away from your face. “Tell me. Please,” he whimpers, letting his fingers graze the sides of your thighs.
You stammer, and squirm once more. “I need you to touch me,” you declare.
Gwayne nods once. “As you wish.”
And he hoists your legs over his shoulders and his face inches closer and closer to your core until his lips latch onto your clit. And finally, for once since drinking the stupid wine, you feel bliss. You’ve never felt something like this before.
It surges through your body and your entire body twitches violently. Gwayne lifts his arms up and grips your hips back again, using the hold to tug your cunt farther into his mouth. He eats you like a man starved.
You did not realize of the noises you were making until you nearly screamed, letting your head fall back. Your hands snake into his hair, pulling his head closer to your core.
He releases your clit from his lips. “Tastes so good—my princess—” his words fan over your damp slit, and he leans down to lick a thick stripe from bottom to top, collecting your arousal into onto his tongue. He swallows it with a loud gulp.
Your breath catches in your throat.
Gwayne continues his assault on your clit, sucking down hard. Your hips roll toward the allure of his lips. You are panting and gasping, hand bunching up his hair into your fist.
Heat flows through your entire body. It is a mix of the feeling you felt upon drinking that curséd wine and something incredible. True, pure ecstasy. You feel the blood of the dragon in you now. You understand it.
An unfamiliar ache begins to tighten in your lower stomach as he persists in lapping at your cunt. Nothing in your life has ever felt so good. You wonder if this is the true effect of the wine, or if it is just because it is your first time—you cannot really think about anything else. His tongue flattens and rolls against your clit and you choke on a moan.
Your muscles tense, your toes curl, and your heels dig into his back. His tongue presses and prods against you and he can feel it coming, the way your thighs tighten around him and shake and spasm.
Shudders wrack your body as you cum. He does not stop even when you do, even when your moans crescendo, his tongue still relentlessly ravishes your cunt even after you fall back onto the bed.
Finally, he lets go of your core with a wet pop.
It is then that you realize the burn has subsided. Relief washes over you momentarily.
But it returns as quickly as it went away. It flows through your body and you feel desperate for him once again.
He crawls up your body, caging you in between his arms, searching for something beneath your fucked-out expression.
“It isn’t enough—” you declare, your breath labored.
“What do you require?” Gwayne rasps, using a hand to brush your hair off of your forehead. His touch wavers in concern when he realizes the scorch of your skin.
“I need—” you paw at his clothed cock. “Your—”
“My what?” he pants.
“I need you inside,” you mutter.
Without a word, he begins shedding his garments. You were simply too dazed to admire it. Perhaps if there is a next time—Gods you hope there is a next time—you’ll get to do exactly that.
He is crawling back over you in an instant, his body bare. You run your hands up his chest, dragging the ball of your hand over his sternum. His cock hits your pelvis.
Your smallclothes, practically wet at this point, Gwayne lifts slightly at your waist. “Would you like me to take this off?” he asks.
You nod lazily.
He shimmies the linen up your body. “Sit up for a moment, sweet girl,” he instructs, and you obey.
They are finally, finally off, discarded somewhere across the room, and it feels much better being exposed than you expected it to be. There is no insecurity when you are with him. He just wants to help.
He grabs a pillow from off the head of the bed, lifting your hips up with a swift sleight of hand and shoving it under. “For your comfort,” he clarifies.
His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his elbow resting beside your shoulder, as his other hand reaches down to grip his cock.
You look into his eyes, trying to search for anything past pure devotion and adoration for what he sees before him, and failing. Your lips falter as they reach up to lock with his. He meets you halfway.
Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing his head down harder onto your wet lips. The kiss is unpracticed and messy. Has he done this before? With anyone else, you mean. You should ask once you finish.
Gwayne enters you in a slow thrust, inhaling the noise you make into his mouth. His hand, the one that was cradling your cheek, finds itself on the nape of your neck.
His lips depart from your own, and he presses his forehead against yours, looking down to watch his cock sink into your cunt. He withdraws and sinks in once more, just to see it again. And again. And again. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the torturous drag of his length into you.
Your lips are parted, throat singing moans so frequent you’d think you were performing for him. You know you are being too loud. It feels impossible to be anything but.
Those gorgeous blue eyes of his find their way back to yours. "Oh—fuck, look at you," he praises, no longer needing the arm that guided his cock into you to guide his cock into you, so he raises it up to your mouth.
His thumb glides over your teeth, and then pushes past them. You wrap a hand around his wrist and suck on the digit. Up and down, up and down, as if it were his cock. He almost freezes inside of you.
Your hand slides up his, grabbing his pointer and middle-finger, swapping his thumb out for them. You do the same to them, bobbing your head up and down, moaning around them, and Gwayne fucking whimpers.
He resumes his movements. His cock throbs, your walls wrapping around him, sucking him in like you were made for him—or more so he was made for you, because he was. He is your man. He will be your man until the day he dies.
His fingers leave your mouth, and your saliva connects to the pads of them. He takes them into his own mouth momentarily.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling his body down to connect to yours. His hand snakes between you, gripping your hardened nipple, earning a gasp from you.
“I’m yours, my princess,” he murmurs, drunk-like. “I’m yours.” And he presses his lips all down your neck, the trail all wet and sloppy.
You’re clenching around him, body spasming from under his caging hold. You feel close to a similar sort of climax that you felt only once before, just then when his head was between your legs. With each slap of his skin against yours, you are screaming. He mutters things, most you can’t quite catch, but they’re all something like that’s it, sweet girl, and let it out, my princess.
He uses his forearm to rise from the skin-to-skin contact you had forced him into. His fingers, desperate yet nimble, work themselves to the small of your back. The contact releases your skin from the suction of the pillowcase, and he lifts your hips up more with his arm now wrapped around them.
His pace quickens. You glance down, and nearly sob at the sight of him disappearing inside you.
“Gwayne?” you look back up at him. Again, he is already staring back at you, ready and willing to fulfill your every need.
“Yes, my princess?” he heaves.
“Kiss me.”
As you wish, is he would have said, if it weren’t for him immediately giving in to your wish. He kisses like he is eating you. Messy. His spit somehow finds itself all around your mouth. You don't notice that you do the same to him.
Your orgasm slams into you. It is a violent punch that knocks the wind out of you—you think you see the Stranger reaching out to you—then you feel Gwayne slow his movements and a thick liquid coat your insides. You babble incomprehensible speech as you ride it out.
“Fuck—” you hear him mutter, and pull out quickly. He runs a finger up your slit, not considering the fact that you were still beyond sensitive—you jerk back at his touch, still trying to catch your breath.
It was like all air was running from you. It probably was. You violently pushed it back out with every small inhale of it.
You finally come to, and realize he has been repeating the words fuck, fuck, fuck, since he pulled out.
“What’s wrong?” you raise a hand to hold his cheek, bringing his attention back to you.
“You don’t—” he pauses. And he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wasn’t supposed to cum inside.”
You’re still confused. “What’s the problem?”
“That is how you get pregnant.” He lets out one last heavy sigh and then falls onto his back beside you.
You turn onto your side, resting your head on one of the arms he lies beneath your shoulder, and bringing a hand up to place it on his chest. His is still rising and falling as rapidly as yours is.
Your fingers trace your name onto his chest. He is none-the-wiser, but you still smirk at the action. Your man.
“Will you ask the maesters to brew me moon tea?” you mumble.
He brings his other hand to hold yours. “As you wish.”
You chuckle breathily.
“Are you—are you cured?” he says, playing with your fingers.
“I suppose so.” You sigh. The need for him no longer thrums through you in the way that it did before.
Now you want him in a different way. A normal, human, potionless way. The way you wanted him before you drank that wine—you thought it would make you seductive enough for him. It certainly worked, you assume.
In less than a minute, you’re beneath him again, his fingers pumping in and out of you.
[𝜗℘] :: finding out that true form!sukuna had indulged in another concubine while you were gone.
tags. concubine!reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive. size diff. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. kuna’s an asshole. no part 2 :: wc. 3.3k
you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.
perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.
missing someone.
it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.
he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.
and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.
they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.
“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”
you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.
yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.
the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.
“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”
you freeze.
your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.
guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.
“what?”
you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.
so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?
of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.
you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.
“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face.
she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.
the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses. the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.
“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame.
she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it’s a dream come true.
though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.
the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.
you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.
“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare.
both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”
“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists.
you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.
you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.
maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.
a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.
although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.
he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.
“out of the way.”
you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.
the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.
you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.
no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.
“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out.
sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.
he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”
sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.
“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm.
there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.
on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.
one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.
he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.
that’s exactly what you’re upset about.
there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.
there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.
he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.
you cannot rule over him or his mind.
“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material.
he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.
you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.
“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh.
you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.
your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.
you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.
“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation.
you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.
the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru.
he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”
and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.
sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.
normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.
either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.
sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.
he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.
when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.
keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.
sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.
he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.
every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.
nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.
it doesn’t hit the same.
you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.
sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.
if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.
it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.
sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.
“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”
the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.
you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.
you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.
‘know your place,’
that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.
this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.
“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips.
he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.
“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”
another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.
it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.
“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence.
you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.
sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.
he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.
“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room.
your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.
you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.
unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle.
“fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.
you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.
you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.
you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.
meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?
his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.
sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.
he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.
sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.
he can’t do that now.
well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.
perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.
⸺ ⟢ blade x fem! reader. pussy jobs. minors do not interact. soaking with blade in the hot springs. a little teasing and such but mostly just something to feed my friends. this is a little rushed so i apologise (i wrote this with one hand honestly).
⸺ ⟢ wc. 2.1k words.
You can just about make him out even from this distance. Perhaps it’s the sheer size of him, the mass of Blade’s muscled back and shoulders easily drawing your attention even as you slowly approach him from behind.
It had been your idea, to stop over in the hot springs while you were both nearby— hoping to lose yourself in a good, warm soak after all of your muscles were screaming at you for a break. Blade hadn’t put up much of an argument about it, and perhaps it’s because you think he could do with the soak too. Either that or he was just happy to oblige your request, but you’re not curious enough to question him on it.
Not when you get to admire the way the damp press of Blade’s hair clings to back of his neck, his body sinking lower into the warm water as you feel the warm air begin to brush over your own nakedness.
You try your best to stay as quiet as possible, even as you slowly creep over the cobblestone that leads you towards where he is, hoping that you may reward yourself with a few more seconds of being able to admire him unnoticed.
But you know Blade hears you, as he always does, acknowledging you with a subtle turn of his head as if his ears are perking up at your approach. He doesn’t move nor shift though, akin to the way a predator might remain still as to not alert their pray.
But if you’re the prey, you seem to be giving yourself up quite willingly.
It only takes a few more silent steps before you come to the lip of the springs, face to face with Blade and immediately you can feel it aswell as see it— the undisguised desire, hot and earnest in his eyes as he takes you in. He’s shameless in his admiration, much as you are to him.
Every look is slow and hungry, and the unwavering admiration is enough to make you shake when you take that first trembling step into the springs to join him.
Blade doesn’t miss a moment of it, not when he can watch how the water line clings to your breasts and molds to your bare straining nipples as you take a breath in. He watches you sink all the way down into the water, until you sit on a ledge at the other end of the spring where your thighs squeeze together and make an alluring, not so mysterious y-shape hiding your center from view.
It’s deliberate on your part, the distance. A detail that you know Blade won’t stand for, especially given the way his gaze is already devouring you completely. But it gets you the reaction you hope for almost immediately; a drop in Blade’s brows, a heat of something darker in his gaze and his jaw tightens before you speak.
You wave your hand through the water, transfixed by the ripples it creates beneath your touch, the shapes reaching all the way across to your lover at the other side.
“How does it feel?” You ask after a moment, “Better?”
“Mmph.” Is all Blade offers, stubborn. But it only makes you feel all the more playful, admiring the way his broad, scarred chest rests above the water.
His voice is much deeper when it calls your gaze back, and his huge body shifts. “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” You answer too quickly, tilting your head. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
“Is something the matter with you? You’re scowling.”
It takes Blade a second to respond, you watch the lines of his neck and arms flex before he’s relaxing again, and your brows rise at him.
“Come.” He grunts, obviously unamused as he motions to a place by his side. “Closer.”
“This isn’t close enough for you?”
You swear you see the muscles in Blade’s jaw clench.
“No.” He grinds out.
“Are you sure? I thought maybe you’d appreciate some alone time.”
“Don’t toy with me, girl.”
You can’t help yourself, can’t help but rile up the same man many would consider to be a weapon because you see the way he looks at you, notice the way his heavy, half-hard cock is already twitching beneath the surface of the springs.
You could keep going for longer if you wanted, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to deny yourself of what awaits you either. Not when you can see the way the temperature of the springs have caused parts of Blade’s features to take on a pink flush, and his chest is rising and falling with his deep breaths.
It’s mouth-watering. So although prematurely, you find yourself closing that distance in only a couple of steps— perhaps driven by your own eagerness as Blade spreads his legs a little wider in anticipation.
You take your new seat by his side before giving him a look.
“Better?”
Blade returns it with one that’s equal parts unamused and full of desire before he motions with his eyes again. To himself this time.
“Here.”
And without a second thought, you do as he says.
Blade sinks into the warm water as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and climb on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his hips as you situate yourself down. Too close to his hard cock for it to be accidental, but he’s more than eager to have you slink into his lap and rub yourself against him.
His body feels like silk beneath you, water sloshing as you feel the first silky grind of his hard cock split through your folds before it’s catching on your clit, making you gasp and moan at the wet, tacky sound that follows.
His eyes all but burn through you.
“How about now?” You ask in a dreamier voice. “Is that what had gotten you so upset?”
“I have no patience for your games.” Blade grunts and grips your waist as you shamelessly rub your pussy across his cock beneath the water. “Teasing me is a bad habit of yours.”
“I thought you liked that about me.” You giggle, but it breaks off into a moan with the next clumsy thrust of your hips, the shaft rolling languidly through your split folds in a way that makes your toes curl.
It’s incredibly intoxicating, the feeling of Blade’s larger body beneath yours accompanied by the temperature of the springs. He feels so rough and safe and warm. You whine his name, nuzzling down into his damp hair and you feel his mouth catch on your soft breast as you lean yourself back to offer him more of it.
Blade’s mouth works at you tirelessly, lapping and kissing at your perked nipples until your thighs quiver, accompanied by the lurid back and forth sway of your hips in his lap as he mindlessly helps you rock back and forth along the length of him. He presses along your lips and the bump of your clit catches on his swollen cockhead, making you both twitch and your whole body jolts when he nips at your tits with his teeth.
“You’re disobedient. This will not end well for you.” He murmurs against your breasts, full of want.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into your own arm with a lazy, lewd swirl of your hips. Blade’s brows come down as his kisses find their way to your jaw, lips parting to grind out another groan and tease skin with teeth while his rough hands curl into the plush softness of your ass.
You press slow, soft kisses against his forehead, down over his nose and mouth and neck, following the valley of each scar, old and new. Blade lets his head fall back and a deep, guttural growl vibrates against your lips. “Know your limits.”
You pet his shoulders and chest, hum in question that’s way more convincing than it should be for just one sound, and ask in a sweet tone, “And if I don’t?”
“Then when you surrender it will be amusing. Do not test me.”
The depth of Blade’s gaze, accompanied the deep tone of promise in his voice almost burns you, making your pussy twitch from where you’re pressing hard against him. You moan, your toes flexing as they curl up behind you and your nails dig into his arms.
You feel his cock throb at the eagerness of your movements, and then he’s helping grind you against him again.
But it’s almost too easy for Blade to make you into a mess. To make you whimper and keen, peering at him with your forehead against his.
The soft bouncing motion of your body on his cock alongside the saccharine rub of his skin against yours makes you feel delirious. The humid air of the springs fills your lungs with your next inhale, and your breaths turn to rushing pants that make your head spin.
But you can tell that Blade’s enjoying pushing himself up against you, to help you bob and thrust across the length of his cock while you struggle to keep his pace. The catch of his sensitive head and folds of his frenulum against the plush, slick petals of your pussy makes it easy to forget about his prior warning, to ignore the way water splashes over the edge of the springs, to not be affected by what would be embarrassment if anyone were to choose tonight of all nights to indulge in a warm soak.
You feel Blade slip down low in the water, applying pressure to a different angle all while he luxuriates in simply letting you ride him and take your pleasure and give him his. All while he gets to watch your breasts bob and your eyes flutter.
But it’s all too much, too much when the head of his fat cock is pressing through your folds just right and his huge palms are grabbing at your ass to ease himself through it. His hands are pulling you apart, spreading out your pussy from behind to make sure you can’t run from your fate and it makes your heart kick at your chest, you’re beginning to feel boneless above him.
“S-slow down…” You crumble, pleading against Blade’s jugular, but your hips never stopping their hypnotic motions. His chest jumps with an inhale.
“This is what has become of you?” There’s an air of something dark to his tone, his lips smearing against your cheek as he wills your body to keep moving. “Is this all it takes to whittle away one’s resolve?”
Your choked moans of Blade’s name ratchet up in pitch, but squeeze down to a whisper, almost like your whole body is twisting up. He gathers you close and squeezes strong arms around you, you’re gripping tight to the back of his neck and hair while he’s helping hitch your hips impossibly closer to his with a slap of flesh against water.
It’s all too much, the way the tendrils of your orgasm rush towards you with reckless abandon, the pleasure mixing with the rising temperature of the hot springs only making you more lightheaded and pliant. Blade takes in the almost helpless look on your face and all but craves to devour it; mouth smashing onto yours when your head falls forward to allow him the reach.
It’s an intense haze of messy kisses and moans, hands wandering and squeezing, shared growls and shivers despite the heat. The head of his cock catches on your hole, and you moan at the way the simple contact is enough to tease you with the stretch. It makes something grasp deep and agonizing in your gut at the hint of what you could have, hunger rushing fast and quick through his blood as you feel Blade’s cock throb and thicken against you.
“Please…. I—“ Your lips curl, legs shaking as your body bounces against his, you’re so desperate for him to just slip deep inside of you.
But before you can shift your hips just enough to position yourself to allow it, Blade grabs at you— deliberately applying pressure to your clit with the next tangible press of his cock through your folds.
“Not yet.” He almost barks, voice wound tight and cock throbbing as he holds your bleary gaze. “First, I will make something else of you.”
