Universe: Black Clover
Troupe: Strangers With a Mutual Connection
2nd Point Of View
Warnings: Smut
Words: 6,592
“Surrender, It Won’t bite you! Much...”
Nozel hated demeaning himself by wearing a robe that covered his features, his lineage, and the very pride he coveted so carefully. He never thought he’d ever visit the lowest of villages in the city, never once believing he’d let grime taint his boots.
Yet, here he was; step after step, sealing away his dignity for the briefest moments, even if they felt like forever.
Having to hide the most painful secret, carving into his heart and youth as it stripped away any last vestige of what his mother had raised in him. He had become colder, disciplined, and every bit the nobleman his father had wanted. And he hated it.
Hated it as much as he hated venturing to these depths, to where he once swore he’d never go willingly unless necessity. Yet, it wasn’t necessity that drove him, it was what was once his heart.
He had become the head of his family about around the time he had become the Captain of the Silver Eagles, both honors he wore proudly. Both honors that he now can’t openly wear without being questioned on his whereabouts, for a nobleman never visits Gris.
Gris was a cold, gloomy village. It was built on the hardworking blacksmiths who kept the Clover Kingdom running, kept it sustained. Yet, it wasn’t the blacksmiths that brought him here; it was you.
He didn’t even know you—not properly, only through the letters he had found while reviewing his family’s study. It was mostly his father’s business, but for reasons unknown to him, his father kept his mother’s things as well. Maybe it was the trophy of it all, marrying such a strong leader.
But Nozel knew better than that. He couldn’t trust his father. Not with this. Not with one of the letters you had sent to his mother clutched tightly in the palm of his hand, knuckles forming to be even paler than he already was.
It was sheer luck that your name had been as uncommon as someone knowing about your village. Incredibly easy to find you, but that wasn’t what made this journey so hard.
It had been the letters he had spent the past week reading, tales of things little him had never gotten to hear from the source. From his mother. It seared through him with a burning ache he couldn’t relent, couldn’t leave without hearing it, and not just from words on a scroll.
When he had finally made it to what he presumed to be your doorstep, he had hesitated. He never felt more fragile than now. So lost, even more than he already had been.
When he did finally gather the courage once more, he pressed his knuckles to the wood of the door, pressing three resounding knocks that he knew someone would eventually hear.
“To whomever it may concern, I believe you knew my mother. I have your letters, and I demand to know what they are about.” He spoke, voice clear in the quiet of your isolated village.
It took you about five seconds for your brain to catch up with you—you never sent letters, not anymore. Not since someone dear to you had passed, so there was only one person you could think of important enough for someone to trudge their way over to your village.
When you didn’t answer quickly, Nozel’s confidence faltered, but it wasn’t the same hesitation he held at first; it was instead the familiar haughtiness of someone entitled.
It was the same face you first saw as you finally opened your door, brows tugged together in confusion as you peered at him through the sliver of space you let your door open to reveal. “Excuse me?”
”Well?” He had demanded, impatience wearing on his voice as he spoke, pointing at the very end of the letter where a name rested, “Is this you?”
It indeed was. The very same. It was surreal, almost knocking you for a loop before the entitlement he wore so carelessly broke through, removing any kind of nostalgia you wore. “So it is you, then.”
He stated it with such certainty that your eye almost twitched at the audacity before he instead walked past you into your home as if the lock on your door was merely a suggestion.
As he entered, there was an immediate difference from what he was used to. There wasn’t any extravagance in the decor, no notable pictures of family, and there was only worn furniture. Not dirty, but lived in; so unusual to the perfection he usually kept close.
It was your turn to be impatient. The way his eyes had roamed over your home had made you coil up defensively. Lady Silva had been a lady of nobility, and judging by his appearance, he no doubt bathed in the same luxury she had been granted.
Yet, instead of the kindness and warmth she wore, bearing understanding on her features, there was instead a man with unreadable eyes and a ruler-straight posture. The difference was impossible to ignore.
“I want answers,” He stated firmly. “The letters... they go back years, up until the day my mother departed from this realm. Who are you? What were you to her?”
His words were framed as demands more than questions. Part of you had wanted to snap, but it was his eyes that met yours that stopped you. They were hers; undeniably.
Nozel’s posture stayed rigid despite your hesitance, his hands clasped behind his back. It was only when he had raised a sharp brow, a gesture meant to signify ‘I’m waiting,’ that your eyes had narrowed.
“I don’t believe that tone will make me any more willing to open my mouth. I’m sure Acier didn’t raise you to be so rude.” You had almost regretted your words—almost.
They had shot a flash of irritation through him, crossing his face clearly. It stung his pride at your implication that he wasn’t living up to his mother’s standards, making him straighten, voice rising.
“How dare you lecture me on manners!” He had snapped, defensive. “You’re the one who’s been keeping secrets from my family for God knows how long. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you!”
Despite his harsh words, there was a note of vulnerability beneath the surface. Nozel was clearly grappling with the revelation that his mother had maintained a relationship with someone of your lower social status.
“Tell me the truth,” He demanded, voice more rigid as he took a threatening step close. “What kind of ‘business’ did you have with my mother? Was it some sort of illicit affair? Because if that’s the case, I demand you leave this place immediately and never darken our doorsteps again!”
You scoffed at his audacity; it had been your home he was currently in. You followed that with several steps closer up until you shoved him onto your kitchen chair, which he had happened to be in front of.
The surprise on his face was almost hilarious if it hadn’t been been for your hands planting just next to him on the surface of your dining room table, making sure your face was level with his before you spoke, cold and flat. “Don’t take that tone with me.”
Taken aback by your sudden boldness, Nozel instinctively leaned away from you, his body tensing. He glared at you, his purple eyes flashing with indignation.
“Don’t take that tone with me, either," He retorted, his voice low and dangerous. “I am a member of House Silva, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner by a commoner, no matter what connection you claim to have had with my mother.”
Despite the animosity between them.c Nozel couldn’t ignore the way your proximity made his pulse quicken. He attributed it to the intensity of their confrontation rather than any genuine attraction.
Yet, those thoughts contradicted the other ones starting to spill through. The ones that couldn’t help but find the way your brows scrunched together and the steel glare you sent his way—oh—and the way your chest heaved from the exertion of shoving him back, straining against your humble rags.
“You’d be well to remember your place,” He warned with a half-sneer, trying to regain control of the situation and his thoughts. “Now, I’ve asked you a question.”
You were unfazed by his words, instead leaning down further to meet his words with an icy stare. “So I’m going to have to do this the hard way, huh?”
You followed your words with a roll of your tongue over your teeth, a contemplative gesture you’ve had since childhood; a habit his eyes trailed over briefly before flickering back up to your eyes.
The further proximity only made your breath ghost over his face, something sweet and tangy as he felt the heat radiating off of your body—or maybe it was just him, making him fight the urge to react further. His self-control wavering under your presence.
His instincts screamed at him to put distance between you, but he refused to back down. He was a Magic Knight Captain for Heaven’s sake; his pride wouldn’t let him.
“You think you can intimidate me?” He sneered, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes flared like his rival, Fugeolean’s, flames. “I’m a Magic Knight Captain. I’ve faced far greater threats than some insolent commoner.”
And yet, despite his bravado, Nozel couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through him at your assertiveness. It was a foreign sensation, one he didn’t quite know how to process.
“Intimidate? That’s cute,” You snorted at first before swiftly leaning down and dragging your tongue over his jaw, a long stripe that glistened when you pulled back for your next words. “But my speciality isn’t intimidation...”
Your words were a provocation and a challenge all at once, and it made his breath hitch. The warm trace of your tongue's path over the very jawline that was passed through generations of nobility made him shudder.
It trickled down his spine and tingled where your lips brushed just barely against him. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move or speak.
Then, with a sharp intake of breath, Nozel regained his composure. He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled you back.
“That’s enough,” He growled, his voice low with warning. “Whatever game you’re playing, it ends now.”
Despite the sheer anger in his eyes, Nozel couldn’t help but notice the way your touch had affected him. It was a strange, unsettling feeling, one he didn’t care to explore further.
You were unfazed by his reaction; most men in his position always refuse to crack, especially when they’ve spent far too long with the power they were handed freely. And it was always oh, so fun, to break that same idea of power, shaping it to fit you.
“You have no choice, Silva. You want answers? I’ll have to fix your attitude first, and with your particular breed... you’re a visual learner.” Your foot kicks open his legs, spreading them as your hand moves to grip his chin.
A surge of indignation and embarrassment flooded through Nozel as you forced his legs to part, splaying wide open now, the robes that were once shielding the luxury of his clothes now on display.
He first struggled against your grip, but your hold was surprisingly unyielding. His face burned with humiliation as he realized the intimate position you had placed him in. So effortlessly, too. Something a Magic Knight Captain like him should have easily stopped.
“You filthy...!” He spat, his voice shaking with rage and mortification. “Release me at once, or so help me, I’ll...”
Nozel’s threat trailed off as he caught sight of your smirk, your eyes glinting with a challenge he couldn’t fully comprehend. Despite his outrage, he couldn’t deny the strange thrill that pulsed through him at your dominance. It was wrong, he told himself, but he couldn’t seem to look away.
“You’ll what? Whine and simper?” You leaned down closer, reclaiming the distance he placed as your knee now presses in between his legs. Your voice was a low whisper, “That’s my intention.”
Nozel’s breath came in short gasps as your knee pressed against his thighs, the contact sending a jolt of awareness through his body. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to maintain control.
“Tch, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He accused, his voice strained. “Well, let me assure you, this little display won’t break me. I’m not some weak-kneed fool who’ll crumble at the slightest provocation.”
Even as he spoke, he could feel his resolve weakening under your relentless pressure. Your proximity, your dominant stance, the wy your body seemed to fill his vision—it was all designed to unsettle him, to make him submit. And despite his best efforts, he found himself teetering on the brink of surrender.
“We’ll just have to see about that...” You had chuckled before leaning down, licking the seam of his lips as you used your grip on his chin to force his lips apart. Your mouth moved onto his instantly, tongue sliding past his mouth to tangle with his.
Nozel’s initial resistance crumbled as your lips claimed his, your tongue invading his mouth with a confident possessiveness that left him breathless.
He had stiffened for a moment, his mind reeling at the unexpected intimacy, but soon found himself responding in kind, his own tongue tangling with yoursin a heated dance.
As the kiss deepened, Nozel’s thoughts grew hazy, his focus narrowing to the sensation of your mouth on his. He could taste the sweetness of your lips, the slight tang of your tongue, and it ignited a fire within him that he couldn’t ignore.
His hands, which had been fisted at his sides, began to roam over your curves, exploring the soft contours of your body with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.
And it was only when his hands greedily clasped your bottom, kneading the fat of it as if he wasn’t defiling his status as a noble as he touched you like you were a common tavern wench, you gripped his hands, keeping them enclosed at his back as you devoured his lips with vigor.
With a muffled groan, Nozel surrendered to your dominance, letting you guide his hands to a halt. Your mouth pushing against his like you wanted them to mold together, barely any breath left in you.
He knew he should protest, should push you away and reclaim his dignity, but the desire coursing through him rendered him powerless to resist.
Instead, he melted into your kiss, his body yielding to your will as you controlled the pace and depth of this encounter. Nozel’s head spun, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating mix of your flavor, your scent, and the sheer force of your passion and control.
He had never experienced anything like it before, and it both terrified and exhilarated him. An impossible pull between curiosity and surrender.
Your hands, moving to make work of his clothes, thick and coarse as they separated you from touching him properly—from claiming him irrevocably. Nozel’s breathing only grew ragged at your impatience, the same controlless reaction his own body produced.
Your nimble fingers worked to remove his clothing, your touch light yet insistent. He stood still beside his deep inhales, eyes dilated and droopy as they observed you with rapt attention.
Your hands tore at his tunic, tugging at the strap keeping his torso hidden until it snapped. Neither of you cares as your hand hurriedly grasps the hem and tugs up, his own hands complicit in his own undoing as they arose, allowing it to slip off with ease.
There was a rush of cool air against his exposed skin, making him shiver. Your gaze raked over his chest, your eyes lingering on the defined muscles before meeting his own.
“You’re quite the specimen, aren’t you?” You purred, your voice husky with desire as your pupils strained with the pure concentrated attraction you felt in this moment. “All that nobility and power, coiled up tight... just waiting to be unleashed.”
Nozel’s cheeks flushed at your sultry appraisal, a mix of pride and embarrassment warring within him. He’d always prided himself on his physique, honed through rigorous training and magical enhancements, but hearing it described in such sensual terms left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.
“Unleashed?” He repeated, his voice a low rumble, and harshened with rapid breaths. “You have no idea what you’re asking for. Once I let go, there’s no telling what might happen.”
Despite the warning, Nozel couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through him at your words. The promise of release, of surrendering to his basest desires, was both terrifying and tantalizing.
He reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your skirts and pulling them up to reveal your thighs. They were soft, meaty, with fat from your hard labor, making his exploration all the more feral as his hands smoothed up, squeezing the further up he got.
He was growing dangerously close to places he’s never let himself indulge in; places he never wanted to explore before you. Your reckless demands and insults, so unbashed to his noble status.
His desperation made you chuckle, your hands swiftly moving to tie his hands behind your chair with the broken band once adorning his tunic as an accessory, now used as a restraint. Once you tied it taut—his startled grunt signifying success—was when you finally worked on his breeches.
He tugged at the restriction, rocking the chair just before your hand just barely grazed the erection that had escaped him so carelessly. It shocked arousal through him, making his hips buck up for more, a ragged breath leaving his otherwise rumbled baritone.
“No, wait...” He protested weakly, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and excitement. “This isn’t... We shouldn’t be doing this.”
His words were nothing, only attempts at resisting before his body betrayed him once more with another buck of his hips, perfectly timed as you held onto his breeches and drawers, sliding them off his hips.
His breath caught in his throat when your fingers, which had hooked around the last vestige of clothes he was wearing, grazed the sensitive part of his hip bone. He had felt the cool air instantly, making him shiver, and his cock twitched in response to the sudden exposure.
For a moment, he lay there, completely naked and vulnerable, his erection straining upward as if begging for attention. Nozel’s face burned with shame and desire, his mind racing with implications of his current state. He was at your mercy, his powerful Magic Knight persona stripped away to reveal the desperate, needy man beneath.
“Mm... so cute.” You had unconsciously bit your lip at the sight of his poor attention-preening cock, which was weeping at the tip, flushed and jutting for you.
“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re a virgin.” You let your words settle for a second. “Most nobility who have everything handed to them take e everything because they believe it is their right; if that were the case with you, you would have ravaged me the first chance you got.”
“Instead, you were cautious. Too calculating not to be untouched.” Your thumb brushed over his red tip, looming over his bare frame. “And here is your pretty cock, already leaking. That’s a tell-all sign.”
Nozel’s eyes had widened at your blunt assessment, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. He’d always prided himself on his self-control, his ability to separate lust from conquest, but hearing you describe it so candidly made him feel exposed and naive.
He tried to squirm away from your probing touch, but the restraints held him fast. A whimper escaped his lips when your thumb dug into the sensitive head of his cock, targeting his tiny little slit and leaving a trail of precum in its wake.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He stammered, his voice cracking with a mix of embarrassment and arousal as his hips bucked up despite himself. ”This is just... instinct. Nothing more.”
But even as he denied it, Nozel knew you were right.
“Oh?” Your hand slowly trailed down his underside with a soft graze of the pad of your fingers before wrapping around to start to pump, dragging your palm up and down his cock.
A strangled sob tore from Nozel’s throat as your movements started, your grip firm yet gentle around his throbbing shaft. He bucked his hips involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure only you could effortlessly provide.
“Ah! Wait—slow down,” He pleaded, his voice strained and desperate. “It’s too much.. You’re going to make me...”
But you only chuckled, your thumb rubbing circles around the sensitive head of his cock as you continued each deliberate stroke with maddening slowness.
Nozel’s vision started to blur, his lungs burning for air as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within him, threatening to snap at any moment. Making you only apply more pressure, squeezing his tip. “Just testing something...”
A sharp cry ripped from his lips as your fingers tightened around his sensitive tip, the pain mixing with the intense pleasure of your touch. His entire body trembled, his cock pulsing against your palm.
“Oh god, please...!” He begged with a sharp inhale, his voice breaking as his hips rolled into the strokes. “I can’t—It’s too much!”
But you simply smiled, falsely innocent as you continued to milk his cock with unyielding expertise. Nozel’s vision darkened at the edges, his mind clouding with lust and desperation.
He was teetering on the brink of climax, his balls drawing up tight, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer under your ministrations. You felt the twitch in his appendage, making you aware of how close he is, before you trailed your thumb up his underside, increasing pressure the further you went up.
A guttural moan spilled from Nozel’s lips as your thumb added another layer of stimulation to the already overwhelming sensations. His hips jerk erratically, trying to escape the exquisite torture, but the restraints hold him firmly in place.
“Yes, ah! Right there!” He cried out, eyes squeezed shut tight, his voice hoarse and raw. “Don’t stop, please!”
The coil of tension inside him wound tighter and tighter, until it snapped with a violent intensity. Nozel’s back arched, his vision flashing white as he came undone, spilling hot ropes of cum across your hand and your favorite dining chair. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, leaving him gasping and spent, his body limp and wuivering in the aftermath of his climax.
“Just as I thought.” You tutted, the hand that was once wrapped around his now spent cock, moves to your mouth. Your tongue swipes over the spllage, cleaning your hand and tasting him in one go. The second the salty tang hit your tongue, you moaned, “Virgin.”
Nozel’s eyes widened in shock when he finally processed your movements, watching you bring his cum to your tongue and watching the bob of your throat as you swallowed the evidence.
A mix of disgust and arousal churned within him, his mind reeling from the depravity of the act.
“Wh-what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, his voice shaky with a combination of outrage and lingering desire. “That was... personal!”
“Didn’t seem personal when you were simpering for me.” You shrugged and turned around, facing away from him as you slipped off your dress.
Nozel‘s jaw dropped as you turned around, revealing your bare back to him as the sleeves of your dress fell down your shoulders. He swallowed hard, his gaze traveled over your curves, taking in the sight of your creamy skin and the delicate dip of your hips.
Despite his lingering unease, his cock stirred once more, betraying his body’s continued interest as your body slowly revealed itself to him.
“What are you...?” He trailed off, his question dying on his lips as you bent over, presenting yourself to him. Nozel’s breath caught in his throat at the erotic tableau before him, his mind struggling to reconcile the noble Magic Knight with the ase urges now consuming him.
You slipped your skirts down your hips, the fabric doing little to hide your figure anyway, as it fell down to reveal the plump of your backside before you straightened up and kicked away the now useless fabric.
You turned back to him, sauntering over before you unceremoniously plopped right onto his lap. Nozel’s eyes went wide as you straddled him with a casual grace that belied the intimacy of the position.
He could feel the heat of your core against his still-sensitive cock, the softness of your thighs enveloping his hips. The scent of your arousal filled the air, making his head spin, too distracted by the raw musk to notice the relief of his now unbound wrists.
“Wait,” He stammered, his hands instinctively reaching up to grasp your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away. “We can’t... this isn’t right.”
But even as he spoke, Nozel’s body betrayed him, his cock twitching in anticipation of what might come next. He knew he should put a stop to this, that he needed to regain control, but the allure of your warmth and the memory of your touch proved too strong to resist.
Your hand reached up his body, from his thigh, up to his chest, and then finally resting at his throat. It wasn’t harsh, but it was there, making Nozel’s eyes bulge as it closed around him, the gentle pressure doing wonders against his rapidly beating heart.
It was then, when you had him captivated, that you slowly started to rock your hips, not letting him penetrate you just yet. His breath hitched, his pulse quickening to the subtle threat.
But it was the slow, deliberate rocking of your hips that truly stole his breath, the friction of your slick folds teasing his aching cock without fully committing.
“Ahh, fuckkk,” He groaned, his voice muffled by your grip, his own tightening at your hips. “Please—I need—”
Nozel’s words dissolved into incoherent pleas as you continued to torment him, your movements driving him to the edge of madness. He thrashed beneath you, his body straining against the urge to claim you, to bury himself deep within your welcoming heat.
“Hm?” You smirked, knowingly. You knew exactly what you were doing to him; with every back and forth roll of your hips came the desperate twitch of his cock.
“How cute,” You murmured against his neck as your lips trailed up it over to his jaw, sucking a harsh bruise into his flesh. “Good luck explaining that to your little soldiers...”
A choked sob escaped Nozel’s throat as your teeth sank into his skin, marking him with a vivid purple. The pain mingled with the intense pleasure of you grinding your hips, sending sparks of electricity through his veins.
“You... you wench!” He spat, his voice rough with anger and lust. “I’ll... I’ll make you pay for that...”
Yet, even as he threatened her, Nozel couldn’t deny the dark thrill that ran through him at the thought of being defiled, of being claimed by this commoner in a way that would shame him in front of his peers, in front of his fellow Magic Knight Captains.
It was a twisted form of revenge, one that would leave him forever changed as your tongue soothed over the mark just before you replace that gentle swipe with a sharp snap of your hips at his tone.
Nozel’s breath caught as your warm tongue traced over the hickey you had left on his jaw, soothing the sting. But the tender gesture was short-lived, as you responded to his angry words with a sharp grinding snap of your hips, your wet heat straining against his cock.
“Ah!—hah—fuck!” He cried out, his head thrown back in a mix of overstimulated pleasure and pain. “Stop playing games and just... fuck... let me take you!”
Nozel’s body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. He was beyond reason, beyond dignity, reduced to a panting, desperate animal driven solely by primal need. And yet, even in his darkest moment, a part of him still clung to the hope that somehow, someway, he might emerge from this debasement with some shred of honor intact.
You could only chuckle through your own panting, far too amused at the desperation coating his features not to before you smashed your lips onto his. You tangled your tongue with his own, creating a mess of saliva and desire.
Nozel was lost in the sensation, his resistance crumbling beneath the onslaught of your fierce kiss. Your tongues tangled in a messy dance, exchanging spittle and gasps as you devoured each other with reckless abandon.
Muted moans vibrated against your mouth as Nozel surrendered to the passion. The world narrowed to the point of contact between them, the rest fading into insignificance.
Even as his mind screamed that this was wrong, that he should push you away, Nozel’s body refused to comply. Every cell seemed to yearn for more, craving the sweet oblivion of surrender and release.
He had been so good, maintaining his noble discipline even with your sopping cunt just above his aching appendage, voicing his want for you, for your cunt as his nails dug into your hips.
You only felt it was right to reward him, so you grabbed his cock, pumping the arousal-slickened flesh of him before lifting your hips just enough to slip him into you, sealing his virginity as yours. With a guttural cry, Nozel felt your slick heat engulf him for the first time, your tight walls squeezing around his throbbing cock as you impaled yourself on his length.
The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and obsession as his virginity was taken and sealed as yours. A shudder racked his frame, his vision blurring at the edges as he struggled to adjust to the unfamiliar pressure.
He’d never imagined it could feel this good, this right, as if his body had been made to fit perfectly within yours.
Lost in the haze of the sensation, Nozel could only arch into you as he fought to maintain control. But it was a losing battle, his orgasm building with relentless intensity as you rode him with a skill that belied his lack of experience.
You shifted your hips up and down, grappling onto the nape of his neck as you threw your head back. Your hips continued their rolling snaps as his hands dug down from your hips to the curve of your ass.
He grappled onto the fat like a lifeline as each slap of his pelvis to your own—thighs to thighs—left a sharp wet smack that splashed together a growing mess at his base, and he couldn’t be any more lost in you.
Your moans echoed through the room, your pleasure palpable as you rode Nozel with wild abandon. Your head thrown back, hair cascading down your back, you seemed to revel in the sensation of claiming his virginity, of marking him as yours.
Nozel’s eyes followed the graceful lines of your neck, the delicate curve of your breasts, before locking onto your face once more. The sight of you lost in pleasure, your features contorted in ecstasy, was almost enough to push him over the edge.
“Fuck,” He gasped your name, his voice strained with effort to hold back his impending climax, wanting this to never end as his face fell forward to your sternum, curving his back as one hand kept your backside and the other curled into your hair, holding you right on him as his hips rolled up desperately. “You feel so... so fucking good...!”
Nozel could feel his resolve crumbling, his body tensing as the first waves of his orgasm began to crest once more, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t let this end. So, despite the ache in his whole body, he mustered up that Magic Knight strength and flipped things.
He kept his hold on your ass and the back of your head as he swiftly stood up, until he finally had you on your back; your dining room table now a makeshift bed.
Your surprise was only short-lived, and your protests died in your throat when his hands took your thighs and shoved them against your chest, keeping them spread just enough to see your face contort before he ran his tip over your folds before slamming in.
He already said he was going to find a way to come out on top—to reclaim his dignity, and when your thighs had trembled, even just briefly, when you rode him, he took that as a sign and shifted dynamics.
He had you in a mean mating press, not even logistically aware of the position’s significance or performing abilities—only in the way it restricts you and keeps him on top.
So when you let out the filthiest whine, walls fluttering around him so prettily, he could only slam into you harder, faster. Nozel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he pinned you beneath him, his muscles burning with exertion, but his determination unwavering.
The dining room table creaked ominously under your weight, but he didn’t care. He was in control now, and he intended to keep it.
He growled out your name, his voice thick with both exhaustion and triumph. “You thought you could break me? That you could... reduce a Silva to nothing but a trembling pile of wanton flesh?”
His thrusts became more forceful, each one a declaration of dominance, a reminder of his status and power. Even as his body screamed for relief, he pushed deeper, harder, ensuring that you understood who was in charge.
“This is how it ends.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice low and dangerous.
You didn’t even care at this point, too wrapped up in the way this new angle presses his mushroom tip right to your cervix, giving it kisses every time he bottoms out. It’s a constant source of pleasure that has you whimpering out the most debouched pleas.
“Fuck! Please... don’t fucking stop,” You slurred out from beneath him, eyes squeezed shut as his shaft massages your walls deliciously, and fills you up just as nicely.
Nozel’s breath hitched as he felt the exquisite pressure of your tight walls contracting around him, the new angle sending ripples of pleasure through his body. Each thrust brought his cock into contact with your deepest parts, the sensation unbearable in its perfection.
“Y-you... you’re killing me,” He rasped, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back. His hands dug into yourthighs, gripping with white-knuckled intensity as he drove into you with relentless precision.
“But I’m not stopping,” He added, his voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. He could feel the tide rising, the inevitable climax approaching with terrifying speed. Yet, even as his body begged for release, he forced himself to continue, to savor every second of this victory over you, over himself.
Your body coiled tight as his words, and broke just as fast. It was a sharp spike that pulsed your walls around his shaft, trying to suck him in as you cried out, your release swelling around him.
Your thighs shook with the aftermath, back attempting and failing to arch, only being able to let out a pathetic whine as your head lolls back.
Nozel’s vision blurred the second your body convulsed beneath him, your tight walls milking his cock with a desperation that sent shockwaves through his entire being. A guttural roar tore from his throat as he felt the last vestiges of his control shatter, his body surging forward with a final, powerful thrust.
“Ah! Shit,” He shouted, your name falling past his lips as his seed erupted inside you with a violent intensity that left him shaking. For a moment, everything faded—the throne, the title, the burden of nobility—as all that remained was the raw, unfiltered truth of their union.
Breathless and spent, Nozel collapsed atop you, his forehead resting against yours, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
Your body twitched as your shared release spills out of your already full cunt. It makes you whimper at the sensitivity, but your eyes are drawn to the sight anyway.
Nozel's body trembled as the aftershocks of his orgasm coursed through him, his cock still buried deep within your quivering pussy. The sticky evidence of their union seeped from you, pooling beneath them, a testament to the violation of his dignity and the conquest of yourwill.
He lay motionless for a moment, catching his breath, his mind reeling from the sheer intensity of what had just transpired. When he finally lifted his head, his violet eyes locked onto your face, where a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction played across your features.
“You…” He began, his voice hoarse, but the words failed him. There was no triumph in his victory, no satisfaction in having reclaimed his pride. Only the crushing weight of what he had done, and the realization that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.
Nozel's fingers curled into the fabric of the table as he tried to steady his breathing, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. The weight of what had just happened pressed heavily on his chest, a leaden burden that no amount of noble bearing could dispel.
“I… I shouldn't have…” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the usual arrogance stripped away by the raw reality of your encounter.
For the first time in his life, Nozel felt utterly powerless—not in the physical sense, but in the emotional and moral one. He had always believed himself above such baseness, above the petty desires of commoners. And yet here he was, sprawled across a peasant’s table, his seed spilled inside a woman he had never properly known, his dignity shattered like glass.
His hands trembled as he reached for his crumpled trousers, pulling them up with stiff, mechanical motions. The weight of his own actions settled heavily on his shoulders, each movement a silent acknowledgment of the irreparable breach between them.
He spoke your name, his voice devoid of its usual hauteur, replaced instead by something dangerously close to regret. “This… this cannot happen again.”
He rose unsteadily, his body still humming with the echoes of their union, and stepped back, as though distance alone could erase what had transpired.
The nobleman in him demanded that he walk away, that he pretend this had never occurred. But the man—the man—knew better. Some wounds did not heal with time, only with silence.
“And do not… do not speak of this to anyone.”
Yet, even as he said those words, you knew that it wouldn’t be the last time you two met. Not when your fates are intertwined, certainly not with his seed trickling down your thighs, and the Lady Silva; Acier, was the lone instigator, but the pull—it belonged to them.
Masterlist.
Masterlist.blackclover
June 1, 2026. PST: 11:10 PM.
