#a violet unplucked.

[newbornwhumperfly]

however the hour may call…

CW: fantasy racism, self-hatred, self-harm, low self-worth

a small ficlet for @much-ado-about-whumping’s d&d character - lander krusk lackman, a self-hating half-orc with the worst self-worth (he needs therapy yestersay but will he get it? why would he when blatant abnegation works just as well!)

title insp. by “staying alive” by mary oliver

(“there are the stubborn stumps of shame, grief that remains unsolvable after all the years, a bag of stones that goes with one wherever one goes and however the hour may call for dancing and for light feet.”)

~

Lander doesn’t drink - never amongst company, anyway.

He swallows back his flicker of desire for some mulled beer or even a little ale to shave off the edge of his nerves, singing like a sharpened blade. He’d never compromise his control like that, especially not now: not when the needling eyes feel like flies crawling over his body, when whispers trail him like shadows.

He fights the urge to rub at his eyes lest he draw attention to his weariness, blinks rapidly against the wavering lines of bodies, narrowing his focus to a tapestry, some sprawling orchard sewn in crimson and gold thread. Lovely human figures gather fruit prettily, a delicate dance as he sees here in this grand ballroom.

Not an orc in sight, of course. No sooty stitches cast a figure like him in such a fairytale scene. He sips at the cold water in his goblet, washing back bitter taste in his mouth - his body runs warmer than most humans to the restrictive brocade itches against his skin.

The cut is too small for him but the tunic was a gift waiting in his room - he strains the material, hulking shoulders and arms pulling at the seams. It is made for a different body than his own but he knows better than to complain. It’s not anyone else’s fault that his bones are too bulky. That the delicate, embroidered periwinkle (when he favors dark palettes) is garish on him.

He steadfastly ignores the ridiculous sensation of being strangled when the collar shifts against his throat. He needs to focus on his duties. He must travel to some nearby country tomorrow, at dawn. A dispute amongst local merchants has halted cider production and his father’s business associate is...displeased. Solving this will fall to Lander.

His throat tightening - as does his hand around his goblet - has nothing to do with his neckline, stomach twisting when he thinks of how...delicately he’ll have to persuade here, with those who won’t take kindly to...someone like him showing up. Some are angered by his family crest and fine armor, others by his inhuman appearance, many by the marriage of the two he represents wherever he sets foot.

Hopefully, the graces of the local lord will reap him favor enough to smooth his visit over with the locals. The slender, haughty man had seemed amiable enough - had grasped Lander’s hand with more than merely the tips of his fingers, had bestowed him with a cordial smile that had loosened the knot in Lander’s chest a fraction. The man had even said - though he was likely to...“forget” the arrangement - he would pencil Lander in for a dance later that night.

It was a gesture that warmed Lander - most did not show such courtesy to him. Lander swallowed against the sting of memory where the host had deigned to practically shun his presence altogether.

Lander will need to set things back on schedule sooner rather than later (by which is meant, as soon as Lander can accomplish it). His pulse pounds in his temples when he recalls the missives he has left to pen, left piled neatly on his desk. In his preparations for the party, he’d forgotten- He squeezes the cup and the gemstones dig grooves into his palms, little aches which pin his mind back in place.

They’ll all have to be written and sent out by page tomorrow - Lander will perhaps be able to retire a little early so he can get an hour or two of sleep. Unless he skips his morning regimen of strict exercise, he might get more chance of rest.

He has been...tired, lately. If he finessed negotiations quicker, more efficiently, then he might have more time to sleep. His duties should always improve, of course...even for selfish reasons.

If he wants to sleep more, he should focus on getting sharper, working smarter (not harder, as his father once reprimanded, but to him smarter has always been harder), getting more results, before he lazes about.

But he doesn’t want to think tonight of papers, of orchards full of apples unplucked, of lips curling or fists gripping sword pommels firmly in his presence.

Lander’s bleary gaze is drawn, a lodestone to the gleaming gold silhouette of his host. Every tongue of flame in the room dapples Lord Ambrose - the elegant gestures of his slim, beringed fingers as they lift a palm to his rosebud mouth for a kiss or gesture with a glimmer of jewels in the telling of a tale. His slight, willowy frame carries the lace and ribbon and velvet of fine breeding on his form like he was swaddled in it. He tosses his head back elegantly at some joke, a soft tinkle,silverware on china, and his gilt waves of hair ripples around his delicate shoulders.

Lander thinks of his unwieldy palm, large and heavy, with the tapering nails bluntly trimmed to stave off claws. He thinks of Ambrose’s fingers within that palm - a flat gray stone pressing a blossom.

His gaze blurs.

He is seized suddenly by the brief, mad longing that he could be like these others, if only in looks. Beautiful. Light. Those with silky locks coiffed with fine oil that has never made his coarse black hair turn sleek, he will never have a head that shimmers like a raven’s wing under firelight.

Like bristles on a coal brush, a hairdresser sighed, her disappointment spiking through Lander’s teenaged heart. She couldn’t do anything with his hair, just shore it down flat against his scalp, as usual. Can’t do anything pretty with this mess, I’m afraid...

He knows he will never hang on anyone’s arm, too heavy, too…much. Certainly not with the whispers that chase him around the room, his tapered ears echoing every little murmur as clearly as if spoken aloud to his face.

Looks like a half-drowned corpse...

They should keep it on a leash, for heaven’s sake...

Keep your swords close, lads, don’t wanna see what happens when he’s on his liquor-

A sharp crunch snaps his attention away from the tension coiling through his veins and when he raises his eyes, he catches a shadowed glimpse of himself in the firelit panes. A few nearby guests are staring at his back, their warped expressions of wariness, haughty contempt, and bemusement reflected alongside his own visage.

His breath snags in his throat.

The glass breaks of his face between wrought-silver lattice, where he sees the separate pieces of himself shining back. The hoary skin, dull as ash, darkened like storm clouds with a flush around his neck and cheeks, the points of his devilish ears now going nearly cobalt. His jet-dark eyes are narrowed into a glare,black brows furrowed, mouth twisted. And- and the cup in his hand is dented, gone concave, little fissures splitting across the silver engraved flowers, torn up, ruined-

Lander’s stomach drops out. He’s frozen, gone sick, cold, tendrils of ice flooding through his chest, his legs and arms, heart a thudding frigid fist against his ribs. He wants to explain himself, to plead that he’s not angry, he truly isn’t, he knows how to behave properly-

But his tongue sticks to the roof of his bone-dry mouth, limbs stuck in place, and the guests turn demurely away from him, leaving him staring at himself.

His hands are shaking, he realizes, his breath threading thin and shallow from his lungs, fire in his flesh, ice in his blood, he- he needs to get control of himself. He can’t cause a scene.

In a daze, he sets the damaged cup on the table, slipping from the room, near the walls, like a rat, some pest sneaking away from where it’s not wanted, from light and cheer and polite, decent company. His feet lead him to a narrow corridor, private, tucked away behind columns.

Breathing heavily, Lander’s hands fumbled - graceless, foolish, meat-handed oaf - with the laces of his trousers, slipping them down to his knees.

In the dim torchlight, he gazed down at the strap, thick coarse leather studded with rows upon rows of spikes snugly cinched around his upper left thigh. The tight embrace had helped hold him in check - in his proper place - for years now. Nights like this one...rattled that restraint. Required fresh application. Discipline requires constant attention, after all. And he’s nearly slipped tonight - he cannot afford to slip.

He’s ashamed when his hands fumble once, twice when working the buckle open. He hurries with peeling the belt free, hissing, nearly a growl, at the throbbing ripple and the cool air of the corridor licking at the marks, it hurts, his small cry of pain was too near a growl, he needs to get the belt back on before he allows his hurt to be stoked to a fury-

Looping the device around his unmarked right thigh, he tightened the belt with a savage twist, buckling it shut before he could falter.

Agony stabbed through Lander’s leg and he bites his inner cheek to smother a cry. Copper floods his tongue as the jagged edges of his shaved tusk snags the flesh and the metal taste is bright, a spark against the dull, welcome throb when the dull spikes dig into the tender flesh.

He knows the grey skin will swell, color black and violet, rage restrained beneath the pinpoints of bruise, where his wrongness can bleed beneath the skin. Where it doesn’t make a mess of things.

He’d been too indulgent - allowed his emotions to swell too close to the surface. Shame simmered in his belly, a useful burn, cleaning away the other useless feelings that threatens to flood his body and drown him, smother anything worthwhile.

He fights the belt another notch, as close as he can make it without risking limb damage, and drags his pants up around his hips, laces them with brisk efficiency.

Lander sets his jaw rigid, his shoulders and spine as straight as a sword, and slips back into the gathering. He does not limp. He does not wince, despite the flares of fires spiking to his very bones. He is polite and diplomatic and lets the throb find a rythm with his heartbeat, the ache just as natural, just as innate.

Lord Ambrose does not dance with him after all, curtains his gaze with golden fringe but does not touch Lander throughout the night. That is fine - the belt would make him a poor dancer.

Just one more prevention on a thing he has not earned and shouldn’t have wanted in the first place - but when he slips, such steps keep him in line.

Just as well, Lander thinks, the burn in his legs dragging his mind away from the wrench of his heart. It is just as well.

~ wow, this was so much fun and i wrote it in a day so! be kind please xppp

[cosmosfated]

   His phone’s screensaver blinks back a cacophony of color at him, the stark white of the time reading a simple ‘14:20PM’ at a click of a button.  His eyes are blank, almost empty of emotion, as he reads the time again and again and─

   His eyes slip shut as he stands up, putting his phone in his inventory after making sure none of his friends had been expecting a text from him.  He takes a few steps forward in order to pick up the watch he’d put down some distance away from him (he didn’t want it to go on the fritz while he was sleeping... and besides, it was an oxygen mask and now he has something of a life raft) only to find a flickering, glitching screen alerting him to... huh?  Incorrect method of ejection?  Did something drop out of his Inventory?

   Forgoing his reach for the watch, he looks around at his feet.  At first, he assumes that it’s just a glitch and it’s making him do weird things.  Blame it on higher forces, that always works.  But then he sees ...

   His whole body goes rigid.

   The Graveyard Flowers.

   In the Inventory, they would be invisible (at best) or intensely glitchy (at worst) to those who haven’t already seen them in their natural, unplucked state in The Depths.  He never did use them back when he was given them to help with sleep, he just got lucky for a night thanks to his sister.  But he has Pho’ now.  Pho’ and Ian, to help him get some sleep.  It’s not foolproof, not by far, but it does help...

   He kneels down to pick them up, but before he can, he remembers it.

   The nightmare that made him get this bundle of flowers.

   It isn’t as if he’d forgotten it.  Lately, he’s been seeing it more and more often.  That nightmare brought more fuel for his mind, terrifying him so much that he can barely toy with his gifted coin without freezing in place and dropping it on the ground for a moment or two.  He never shows this, not in the way that people would view it as terror.

   People view it as viciousness, from him, cruelty.  His words are less like honey and more like venom.  Less like bandages over a cut, and more like aggravating an already open wound.  His actions are not considered tired and soft, not anymore.  He’s seen as erratic, crazed.  Perhaps on some level, that’s not wrong.  A madman has a tendency to do exactly that:   seem and be crazed.  They do not see the fear of a Mage unsure of his next step, they see the fury of a man betrayed by those he once loved.  They do not see the terror of a child pushed to tears at the thought of losing family, they see a Hunter aside the people he once fought against willing to do what has been done to him in the name of revenge.

   The hand that was moving to grab the flowers instead curling into a tight fist alongside the other hand, knuckles blanching as his fingers tremble.  The awful cold of metal against his skin, claws digging into flesh, isn’t enough for him to lighten his grip on nothing.  Even when he feels the warmth of blood trickling down his palm and decorating the metal and gemstones he adorns himself with isn’t enough.  His voice is caught, screams redirected into his scarred skin and broken bone.

   Ten minutes pass, but it feels more like years, centuries, a brand new eternity of silence.  Silence gone unheard, so loud and yet─

   He loosens his grip and opens the palms bloodied and shaking.  His bones welcome the relief of the lack of pressure, and he’s made all too aware that the pressure he puts on his bones, on his skin, on himself is nothing compared to the pressure that the multiverse, that it is putting on him.  This is nothing, compared to it.  Compared to there.  This is a pinprick of pressure compared to what he knows will eventually come for him and those in his family.

   But they’ll damn him sooner than he’ll be caught unprepared.

   Sleepless violet eyes settle on the flowers, and he picks them up gently.  Some of his blood gets on the stems and a few of the petals as he brushes off some dirt from them.  He then stares at his left hand, head tilting curiously.  Hmm...  He’s not normally one for messy rituals─ that’s more of Ian’s gig─ but maybe...  Maybe his spells are missing a more physical component.

   [ Bloodied Graveyard Flowers ] added to Inventory.    [ Bloodied Graveyard Flowers ] relocated to [ LAST RESORT ].    [ LAST RESORT ] total items: 2.                                Save changes?                    [ ♥ ] YES                       [ ] NO                                            ...                               Changes saved.

[yansgalore]

plump, soft thighs-!

sub! silver and afab! reader.

warnings: smut, wet dreams, thighs, foot play, reader is like...idk??? not dominant but like????? yeah

[p.s: I am just a horny virgin man I don't know how this actually works]

silver who loves thighs. he's veryyy subtle about it, but when he rests on your thighs, he falls asleep in 3 seconds flat and is difficult to wake up.

imagine dressing up in thigh highs and short bottoms- shorts, skirts, you name it- that only shows a sliver of skin for fun, and then coincidentally crossing paths with the knight.

there's this very intense gaze on you all of a sudden from silver, his aurora eyes boring into the inch of skin revealed by your clothing. even if you didn't talk to him, just waving hi to you in passing, it'll stay fresh on his mind for hours, no, days after that.

if you're close, he might try asking you to wear something like that again. if you ask him why he'll uncharacteristically stutter, something like:

"you... look good in them."

-

your foot palms the bulge in his pants, his eyes glazing when he looks up at you. you look so ethereal, the light shining behind you like a halo.

he rests his head between your thighs, moaning when you press down hard on his shaft, leaking precum. he feels his face grow warm when your hand gently guide his head towards the middle of your thighs, softly squishing his head- a complete contrast to your onslaught against the head of his penis.

"can i take my pants off... please..." he remembers to ask for permission, a little bit of drool slipping out when you direct mean touches towards it.

"of course you can." you permit, and he hisses when it hits the cold air around him.

wordlessly, he begins pressing kisses against your thigh, diving into your underwear until he reaches your pussy. he pushes the measly fabric aside, hot breaths panting against your glistening clit.

his arms wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you closer as he directs small, hesitant kitten licks against your flower, moaning at the taste. you taste so good, he could cum just from eating you out.

there is no rhythm, each of you going at your own pace, determined to make the other feel as good as they have done to you.

silver sucks against your pussy hard when you press against his foot just right, a climax about to reach its limit. he doesn't tell you when he's coming, only gripping your thighs and eating you out with much more vigor than before.

the only telltale sign you get is the wet, sticky cum that gushes all over your socked feet, its juices covering the entirety of it.

silver is met with the same, with the sudden pressing of your thighs as a warning when slick covers his face abruptly. well, not that he minds.

hesitantly, he pushes himself of off you, your juices sticking against his face in long strips as he dazedly look up at your blissed out face, pleased at his handiwork.

"you made such a mess down here..." you lift your leg covered cum, pressing it against the side of his face. "clean it up."

a dark flush spreads against silver's cheek, but he obediently obeys, licking the semen off your foot until not a speck is left.

"good boy." you coo, angling his face up so you can congratulate him.

he moans into the kiss helplessly, tongue deftly obeying your orders as you take the lead, only separating to breathe in some air. his eyes are half lidded when you swipe some cum of his face, only for him to drag your thumb back into his mouth, never breaking eye contact.

a grin is painted on your face when you coo.

"wanna go again?"

-

gh!

he wakes in a rush, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness.

what the hell was that?!

he silently groans when he feels his pants getting wetter, a hot flush spreading against his cheeks. how is he going to face you now...?

[yansgalore]

implication of sex, sub! silver, dom! gn reader, use of pet names (baby, daelin'), characters are over 18, established relationship

silver groans when he lift his ass from the bed, only to find they ache from the pounding you gave him last night.

his cheeks redden when he remembers the way he desperately calls for your name, your cock/strap sinking into his wet walls as you whisper the filthiest the things he's ever heard into his ears.

"baby?" silver flushes at the nickname, but hums to tell you he's awake. "you up?"

"mhmm."

"hi, daelin'." you press a soft kiss against his forehead. "sleep well?"

"hmm..." he tiredly raised a hand to circle your waist. "'s good."

"yeah? I'm glad. here, I'll help you get up." silver flushes a dark red at your suggestion, choosing to stay in place instead.

"I, um..." silver buries his head into his pillow. "I can't."

"can't - oh." you pause at the implication and gently brush your hand against his ass. "I must've gone too hard last night, huh? sorry, silver, i didn't mean to."

"it's okay." silver flushes red. "it felt.... great... "

silver watches from the corner of his eye as the lust from last night sparks back alive. "does it~? wanna go again?"

"no-! not now..." silver grows red.

"so, later...?" silver can only groan at your suggestion, which you softly laugh at.

"I'll just tell Lilia you "trained" too much last night." you suggest, giggling as you watch his ears burn bright red.

so cute.

[yansgalore]

don't keep me waiting, please.

pairing: yan! malleus x gn! reader warning: implied kidnapping, toxic relationship, delusional love

"My lord."

The dark fae turns around, meeting the eyes of one of his faithful retainer, Silver. Aurora eyes matching green ones.

"Yes?" Malleus' voice resonates through the empty Diasomnia dorm, the sound of lightning and raining surrounding them. Yet, the two paid it no mind.

"Do-" Silver catches himself, hesitance found in his eyes as he continues his question. "Have you seen Yuu?"

"The child of Man? I have not." Malleus answers quickly, shaking his head, his tone uncaring and bland. "Do you require something from them?"

"No, no...nothing. I thank you, My Lord." With a bow, Silver leaves. Malleus quickens his pace to his room and locking it when he enters.

"Yuu." Malleus calls to the body on his bed. No response. He smiles. They must still be asleep.

Malleus undresses himself, sliding into a loose robe and climbs onto the bed.

"Treasure." He hums, laying next to Yuu as he lifts a lock of hair from their face, caressing it softly "There are people looking for you."

He grumbles. "What need do they have for you? You are mines, are you not? Even Sebek has questioned me about your whereabouts. It's most frustrating."

"Well," Malleus starts with a soft smile. "My dear- no one will be looking for you anymore when you're with me in Briar Valley."

Together, forever, whenever you need me.

"My darling, my treasure." Malleus smiles softly against your shoulder, drifting into sleep with you, intertwined even in the land of dreams. "You're mines."

"Forever."

[yansgalore]

silver thirst

silver listening to one of reader's confessions like

"i want to fuck tongue fuck silver's ass and stuff him w/ my cum so it'll get full and i also want to fuck him until he can't walk anymore and-"

"TMI PREFECT GTFO"

and silver's just so turned on by it that the next day he arrives in the ramshackle just so, so horny and ready to be fucked, so when the prefect answers the door he just

pulls them in for a kiss and reader, obviously, having a crush on silver, starts making out with him, and i mean seriously making out. like there were tongues, then reader's hands are cupping silver's ass, and silver's moaning at it all, gripping their hair.

they seperate for a bit and silver goes "i heard what you said about me, and i... i want you to do... what you said to me..."

then they go to the bedroom and silver, by himself, goes to the bed, lays face down, ass up, and takes off his pants, letting it pool at the ankles. it's already dripping wet with the lube silver put on himself, just before coming here and it's dripping out, and its dripping even more when he starts lightly shaking it, all the while looking back at reader.

"please... f-fuck me... fuck my pretty little s-slutty hole," silver burns at the words he's saying- he's heard it from somewhere, and it sounded okay to him, so- "with your cock a-and fill me with your- HNGGH-"

reader's already against silver, cock up against his ass as silver nods enthusiastically about what's to come.

"that desperate for my cock huh?" silver nods. "already ready with a toy."

"please put it in. please please please-" silver's rewarded with reader slowly sinking his massive fucking cock in and when he's done, silevr can barely talk.

it's so big and so full and silver swears just by him putting it in its already arranging silver's insides to fit around this gigantic cock.

"sho... full... sho... ahh-" it's just a little movement, but silver's already cummed. he probably doesn't even register it cuz of how big reader feels.

he presses against the cock in his stomach and hisses. "it's sho, sho big... you're g'na fuck my inshides,"

"I am, beautiful, I am."

then reader taes it all out, and rams it in, and silver couldn't be happier. his limp dick, now getting harder, slaps against silver's thigh as reader begins fucking the life out of silver, as silver keens and whines and moans like the common whore because its so good and he literally owuld not mind spending the rest of his days like this.

after a while, reader murmrus, "you know what?"

not liek silver can respond, but sure. "i want to see your face." so reader just flips silver around, puts his legs over his shoulders and conitnues fucking him, all the while silver is making the lewdest expression and moans. there's drool all over his face, silver's crying, there's tears streaking down his fast and his eyes are blown wide open. the things he can chant is either "more, fas-ah-er! ah- ahh, ahhh--!!!" or empty 'uh huh's as he lets out orgasm after orgams and all this time, reader hasn't even cummed once.

silver helps, moving his hips along with reader will saying whatever comes to mind. "you're gon- gonna fill me s-shullty pussy up with your- your cum-! gonna- gonna fuck me full-"

"and not a single drop of that is going to waste-"

"all in me... all in... my hole- my small, ah, slutty hole just for-"

and i guess that must've did reader in because reader cums into silver's tummy, just like he wanted and when reader's done, stays in there, his dick acting as a plug.

and silver thinks he's done because one, that's one hell of a fucking and he's going to pass out but nope, reader puts him on their lap (somehow idk im just horny fuck off).

"w-huh? i.. aren't we done?"

"no, not yet." then reader wraps his hand around silver's dick and squeezes, and silver yelps. "y... yyou still, you still want to go-?"

"i haven't fullfilled ALL my fantasies, you know?"

and then he starts jerking silver off, all the while his dick is still in silver, so silver can feel him getting harder in him and it gets too much to bear and silver cums, for like, the upteenth time.

then as reader's about to get off, silver stops them. "w-wait, j-just stay. your cum is going to soil the sheets..."

"...just say you want it in there, silver."

"it's embarassing."

"not with the shit you said- what was it 'come fuck my pretty slutty little hole-'"

"i- i heard that from somewhere..."

"pff..."

then they fall asleep yeah ok horny spell over

[yansgalore]

posession. [sebek zigvolt]

warnings: yandere behaviour, toxic love, non-consensual touching, biting, implied drugging, non-consensual touching

it was merely a coincidence, but its a coincidence sebek is joyful for. a heavy rain was upon nrc, and the two of you just happened to get caught in it together. without any time to ramble, sebek grabs your arms, tosses his jacket over your head and makes a run for it towards diasomnia, where he lets you bathe and use his clothes for the meantime.

now, you're huddled in one of sebek's t-shirts, its hem reaching your thighs as you snooze peacefully on his bed. a delighted shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

he takes a few seconds just to stare at you, gold-glinted eyes admiring your sleeping form on his bed with his clothes wrapping around you.

with his roommates out and the malleus' portrait respectfully turned around (because OF COURSE), he joins you on the bed, looming over as his arms cage your unconscious body.

"human." he takes a few deep breaths before leaning down to sniff your neck, basking in it with delight. "you haven't the slightest clue what you do to me."

his crocodilian features are on show, scales on show and tail unwind, swishing slowly behind him. he lays next to you, putting his arm around your waist, caging you.

"so vulnerable." he murmurs into your skin, teeth on show. "humans really are lowly creatures." he sinks in, praying that the potion he slipped into your 'calming' tea worked. when you don't react, he sighs in relief, licking the new wound quickly. he continues, biting and licking your neck until you're covered with bite marks.

sebek smiles proudly at his sign of ownership, sealing the ritual with a soft kiss against your neck.

"goodnight, love." he whispers in a tone so quiet that he's not sure even he can hear it, but his heart thumps wildly at the nickname he's given you.

then, he tucks you in and leaves for sword training, giving you one last long look before he leaves.

[yansgalore]

panty stealer

yandere! ace trappola x yandere! fem! reader [smut]

he's a pervert, I just know it! he teases and degrades you and says uwah, you're useless without him, huh? and stupid, did you forget that you basically can't do anything in this world~? huh? but despite all that, he cares for you. he does, truly, just in more... roundabout ways.

somewhere along the way, he falls for you. maybe its the way you go along with his pranks and stick with him when it goes wrong. maybe its the happy, giddy way you look at him when something goes your way.

whatever it is, you got this boy hooked on you, and he's holding on like a lifeline. he's always hovering around you, and never strays far. if you're in this class he isn't? surprise, now he is- he's even next to you, ain't that nice! huh, the guy that's supposed to be your seatmate? hah, why'd you askin'? what, you don't actually care for that asshole, do you?

disgusting. a waste of space. why does an asshole like that got the spot to sit next to you?

once he submits to his more... fantastical fantasies of you, it's easy for ace to spiral down the rabbit hole of love. this twisted, maniacal, obsessive feeling he calls love.

and it leads him to your quarters. in the ramshackle dorm, where you're most vulnerable. he'd never admit it, but he's a little peeved that the grim-lin gets to see the parts of you that he hasn't.

anyway, he sneaks in nice and easy when nobody's home (except the ghosts, but he can always deal with them, no?) and quickly sneaks into your room.

now, ace isn't some porn loving freak. he wouldn't enter and just... stand there, sniffing in your scent, you know?

except he does and holy fuck don't you smell good. so fucking good. ace swears he's never felt so alive. so blissful. ignoring the tightening of his pants, ace rushes to your drawers, frantically rummaging for- ah.

he grins widely as he lifts up your undergarments, like a trophy on display. while it isn't lingerie material, it's you and that's all that matters.

ace hurries to tuck one of them into his pockets but... it wouldn't hurt to... lift them to his nose and smell a 'lil, right? I mean, so long as he doesn't jack off, it doesn't makes him a perverted little weirdo, right?

that's what he tells himself as he eagerly makes his way towards your bed, precum already smearing his pants.

god, he's so stupidly in love, and he's glad it's for you.

shlick, shlick! his hand rapidly squeezes his dick and rubs it back and forth while he keeps himself quiet by covering himself with your underwear. god, he could just taste you in his mouth!

"ah, ah...!" he moans, imagining that it's you stroking him instead of his pathetic hands, and that it's your pussy on his mouth instead of your underwear. how good, it'd be, how you'd tell him that he's a pervert, jacking off just to your scent- and he's agree, nodding frantically like the slut he is. "god, I love you, I- hah-!"

in his fervor, he doesn't notice the door opening and closing, or how you stand before him with an equally lovestruck smile on your face as you watch him desperately mewl for you.

"hah, oh fuck-!" with a scream, ace cums, bursts of white shooting out of his dick. as he slowly comes down from his high, you clear your throat.

"having fun, ace?"

ace's heart stops beating as he, frightened, looks up to see you at the edge of the bed he just cummed on. with your underwear near his mouth.

"ace." you repeat when he doesn't reply. you sigh, glancing at the underwear he used to succumb and pout. "you pervert, is it that cute?"

w-what?

"my underwear." you ask point-blank, taking it from his hands and lifting it up. it's the first pair you got when you landed in twisted wonderland, so it's been through some things. "i don't think i'd jack off to this myself."

why are you talking about this when he's cummed in your bed-!

"i'm wearing a cuter pair than that." you sit next to him, then smirk. "wanna see?"

a perverted blush blooms onto his face. so, you're into this just as much as he is, huh?

"please."

he scrambles to meet your lips, and moans when you forcefully shove your tongue in, wrapping his arms around your neck. ace already feels like cumming again, and you haven't done anything to him but make out.

as you seperate, a string of saliva hangs between the two of you and ace can't help but blush harder at the sight.

"embarrassed?" you ask, smiling as you watch his dick jump at the sight.

"n-no..."

you smile wider. never in your wildest dreams would you think that ace loved you as much as you loved him, but here he is, shyly looking away. cute.

"you sure?"

"s-shut up! just kiss me again, damn it!" he leans forward and tries (keyword: tries) to take the lead but again, you best him by a mile and leaving him moaning like a slut who hasn't felt a dick in days.

"hah, hah..." ace is a mess. his heart is completely messed up, smeared with sweat. his eyes are teary and half lidded, how appetizing.

ace leans downwards and presses his nose against your pussy, his warm breath fanning your crotch. his hands lay still against your zipper and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission.

"hmm? what's up?" you fake innocence, tapping his hands.

"you know what I want!"

"I don't~ not unless you tell me, ace. like you said, I'm a stupid, magicless human, right?" and ace burns at your request, silently cursing himself.

"can I- tch, e-eat you out- damn it, just-!" ace's hands grab the zipper, but he doesn't pull down.

"well, I guess that's acceptable." you hum in delight as he quickly discards your pants and freezes.

that's... that's his underwear you're wearing. his red boxers that have gone missing- you took it?! ace looks at you, wide eyes as you flush under his gaze.

"told you you'd like it." you smile shyly, dragging his hand towards your leaking clit.

"ah ...hah, and you're calling me a pervert." he gasps breathlessly, a perverted grin crossing his face as he tugs it down.

"I thought you liked my underwear." you fake a frown, swinging your legs over his shoulder and tangling your hands against his hair.

"yeah, yeah." ace replies absentmindedly, too mesmerized by the sight. its so wet, folds glistening in your precum. he watches as it clenches around nothing and the way you start to pant at the intensity of his gaze.

his pride shoots up when he realizes it happened because of him. him. not deuce, not that stupid asshole in your class, him.

"thanks for the meal~" he manages to say. he takes a tentative lick at your cunt, and when you hum, he goes to town.

he grips your thighs, aggressively licking your cunt up and down. you moan, throwing your head back as sinful things spilling out of your mouth like a gospel. ", mmph-!"

he solely focuses on you clit, salivating at your taste. if he had his wits at the moment, he'd compare it to ambrosia, but there's no time for similes when he's got you in front of him.

"taste so good..." he moans, licking your pussy like it's his last meal. absorbed in the pleasure, you grab his hair and push down, moaning out loud.

"yes, yes, harder- ah, god, ahhh, aceee-!" the tension in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a call of his name, pulling his hair and locking his head against your thighs.

the overwhelming pressure causes him to snap too, unwinding as he lolls out his tongue, catching most of your cum.

this is what he's been dreaming off! your cum in him, on him, everything on him!

he breathes hard when you let go, fluids sticking against his face. he happily licks it off, and an idea rings in his head.

you come down from your high and sheepishly apologize. "sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to push you down like that."

ace regards it with a kiss to your thigh. "ah, um-"

"you taste so damn good." ace sighs dreamily, eagerly licking the remaining fluids off you.

"hah- no, wait what about you? you haven't cummed- oh, uhm nevermind." you squeak as he rolls his eyes.

"stupid."

, diving down again, much to your surprise. "wait, ace, I just finished-!"

"I know, I'm just cleaning up~" he replies, licking the insides of your thighs where the cum squirted to.

he slowly moves closer and closer to your pussy, but stops at your cunt, licking until it's 'clean' and he's satisfied, lifting his head in satisfaction.

you both stay silent for a bit, trying to process what just happened. "so, are we, uh...dating?" you cough out after a while.

"d-duh-! I mean, I ate you out and everything, so...!" ace replies just ask awkwardly.

"oh... okay then, it's a deal!" you grin, giving him a hug that makes him topple down the bed.

you cozy up towards him, intertwining your legs together, uncaring if your pussy touches his cock.

"i'm so sleepy..."

"then go to sleep, idiot."

"shut up, pervert."

.

deuce finds you both half-naked and horny the next day, and screams bloody murder.

[yansgalore]

somnopholia, like they talked abt this off-screen so its all consensual, silver wearing a skirt, public sex

okayy another one im supposed to be studying but eh

silver sitting on top of your lap in the library, and as subtly as possible grinding into your crotch when your asleep. when you don't react he silently pulls your zipper down, and undoes enough of it so that your hard and massive ( i am stating this again, MASSIVE) cock springs out.

he licks his lips and slowly, sinks his ass into your cock, biting his lips so hard that they bleed. again, the belly bulge. it just turns him on so much man like to know that you're wayy bigger than him and that you could just. ruin him is so. urgh

when he's sitting there trying to catch his breath, his hands over his mouth as he's trying to moan as little as possible, the shame probably kicked in- he's in a library, with people trying to do actual schoolwork and he's here, a dick sank so deep in his ass. The skirt flutters around him, slightly covering him, but that's not going to explain much, is it?

He's debating on whether to try moving or wait until you wake up when he feels your cock twitch in him, and an involuntary (albeit) small moan leaves him. It doesn't get a few heads turning, but he covers his mouth even more, just in case.

"Silver."

"Silver, you're here!"

Oh, fuck. It's Riddle and Kalim. shit, now? How is he going to get through this without slipping up?

He eyes you in panic, but when you're still deaf asleep, he's got no choice but to face them, and the thought pervertedly turns him on even more. He can feel the strain on the panties he's wearing.

"H-hello." He manages.

"Oh, nice skirt! Did they make you wear it?"

"no, I did out of my- mhmm- volition-" breathe silver, breathe! Hold your moans in.

"I see... well, do be careful not to wake the prefect up." Riddle waves. "And be careful with how you sit. You might just crush the prefect."

"nah, he's not~"

You're awake, oh thank god-

"ah-" it involuntary leaves him when your hands make home on his waist, fingers firmly pressed against his side as you expertly start rolling your hips, just subtly enough so that HE feels it circling, but not enough that riddle nor Kalim sees what you're doing.

All silver can do is focus on not letting a single sound out as you continue to converse, even daring to settle your head on his neck, where your lips occasionally settle on his neck.

Finally, finally, they bid you two goodbye and silver is able to let out small moans to relieve himself as his hands go to the chair arms to ground himself.

"why did you- ah- talk to them while you're- hmmgh-"

"it's only polite, silver-" you say, like you're not bouncing your dick into him. "What was I supposed to do, hmm?" you lean in closely in his ear and nibble it, grinning when you hear silver's feeble attempt to stop a keen whimper from escaping.

"you're such a tease..." He whispers, cheeks burning redder when your hand make their way under his shirt , trailing his chest.

"am I?" You begin to play with his nipples, rolling them under your fingers and pinching them, taking turns with each areola. When silver's distracted, one of your hands leave to the trenches of his skirt and whole you can't see it, you can most definitely feel his cock straining in the panties.

"you're such a good boy, not taking off the panties, just like I told you. " You coo. Silver shivers at the praise, his pants deepening. Honestly, it's a miracle no one's found you both yet. Silver's state most definitely won't help to explain your situation, not when he's arching his back and throwing the dirtiest look you've ever seen on him as he pans his eyes down at his skirt then at you, begging you to lift it to see where you're both connected.

"do you want something, silver?"

"y-yes..."

"and what is it?"

"t-the thing... you know..." Of course you do- but it's not as fun if you do as he says immediately, right?

"know what? i don't- oh, you're squeezing me- i don't know, silver."

"the... the skirt... lift... lift the skirt..." he whispers a tear threathening to fall. "lift it!"

you do as he says, and his eyes haze over with lust when he sees the clear string of his wetness and yours combined. "its so wet..." he marvels at the discovery, gulping.

"then what do you say i pick up the pace~?"

"what- AH-" silver slaps his hands against his mouth when you start thrusting in harder, silver's body jumping against yours.

"w-wait, this is too obvious-"

"doesn't that make it more fun~?" you chuckle darkly when you feel his dick twitch. "see, you agree with me~"

silver's head bobs hopelessly as he helps you get off, syncing your thrusts with his.

He can feel the coiling in his stomach tighten, and you seem the feel it too. "gonna cum again?"

his ass tightens against you as answer, so you pick up the pace. silver is barely keeping his voice in, loose moans leaving him as he tries (keyword: tried) to ground himself by clutching the side rails.

your pace becomes more frenzied and soon, topples silver over the edge. "cum... ming!"

he releases with a gasp, his cum staining his panties and skirt. you come right after, biting his neck in an attempt to muffle yourself.

"h... how am I supposed to .." silver pants, looking at you hazily, cock still snuggled in him. "walk out...?"

"like this." you lift him off yourself, sliding the panties against his ass properly, before twirling him around and patting the skirt down.

"there."

"but the cum-"

"how started this, hmm?" silver blushes, hesitantly beginning to walk out the library.

you can only grin when you sees some of the cum- your cum- leaking out.

[yansgalore]

how do you want it wrapped?

[a twst wonderland yandere blog.]

So I'm 18 I can't believe I forgot that tq for the ask lmao imagine having a smut blog without age HELP

here, I mostly reblog (and on the occasion, if ever) post yandere / smut of the fandoms I'm in.

the fandoms are: twisted wonderland, obey me, genshin impact, and recently, ikemen prince. I normally reblog sub [character] posts, so block this blog if you don't want that.

there's no tagging in this block, so 😝

edit: there is tagging on this blog now, just type the first name of each chara

e.g.: sebek zigbolt would be sebek

the only tag here is for my work(s), which is a violet unplucked.

also I'm a virgin so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♂️