#ambiguous genitalia

[intersex-questions]

this is going to be a very long-winded ask but I've been questioning something for a long amount of time:

i had my voice drop significantly around the time most guys in school did too, around 12-14. i found old recordings of me talking and singing and its a completely different voice, more high pitched. as far as i can remember, i didnt have clitomegaly but it was larger and genuienly like a small penis. i also had a lot of body hair but no facial hair afaik, and super oily skin and acne that wasnt caused by what i ate . i had super heavy painful periods though that sometimes left me unable to function at all and brought me into the ER once and got me declared anemic, just to elaborate on how bad it was.

i spoke in past tense because i'm transitioning and have been getting testosterone every 3 months for 2 years now. i did notice i responded really fast to the first dose already, i almost immediately grew facial hair before my second dose and had my voice drop even more, outside of the usual clinical curve of change. while i know it depends on the person, it was very fast. i also cant shake that it might be PCOS since i wouldnt know if there is a spectrum to hyperandrogenism that would leave you still having heavy periods while also experiencing those changes. i haven't had my period ever since starting testosterone so i wouldnt know what would still be visible down there if i'd have a gynecologist take a look at it.

i know youre not a professional, but do you know off the top if there are any intersex conditions that.. well.. would describe what i could probably look into that couldve been there already pre-transition or at least could list off some intersex conditions that dont involve having internal testes or "hidden male sex characteristics" since i have had ultrasounds in my lower abdominal area a few times and i wouldve probably been told about it.

Thank you so much for sending this in. First off, I completely understand your struggle with questioning being intersex after starting testosterone. I didn't start to question my past experiences with my sex and sex characteristics until after I had started testosterone. This made figuring out if I was intersex even more difficult. Especially because, even if I was intersex, my outward intersex symptoms became "normal" for any FTM/trans+ person on testosterone.

What you describes already sounds like hyperandrogenism. Hyperandrogenism is, in and of itself, an inherently intersex experience. You do not need a specific diagnosis that has hyperandrogenism as a "symptom" nor do you need to have diagnosed hyperandrogenism in order to say you have it. Even if you are now on testosterone HRT, which makes hyperandrogenism seem more typical/"normal" for your body, that doesn't negate that it would be something your body still inherently has.

Also, I'm unsure if you mean, "I'm getting my testosterone prescription filled up every three months and am taking it for a different period of time" or, "I'm taking an injection or other form of testosterone every three months, and only every three months". If it's the latter/the second one, it very very much only further makes it seem as if you have hyperandrogenism or a variation in how your body processes testosterone. Your responses on testosterone are not typical for perisex individuals. Also, if you are on it that often because of a doctor recommendation and not a personal choice, that makes hyperandrogenism and even stronger likelihood because T is often taken less often or in lower doses for those who have hyperandrogenism but are trans+.

Also, I would like to say, it isn't entirely uncommon for intersex people who have something like internal testes to just...not be told about it. Even if the doctor(s) know. This is something often kept hidden from intersex people and many doctors will proceed to "treat" the patient (almost always unnecessarily) for their internal testes without explaining why they are doing that. I'm not saying that this is your experience, and many doctors would tell a patient, but it's important to just keep in mind that, unfortunately, doctors can suck.

Moving on from what you've described that seem like strong signs of hyperandrogenism, the fact that your genitalia are at all ambiguous also means that the intersex label is open for you to use. No one needs a specific diagnosis or anything like that to be welcome to use the label. The clitoris and penis are often more similar than people think. One way to imagine it is that the clitoris and penis are on a sliding scale, like in a character creation model, where you maybe slide the hair from long to short, or the body type from smaller to larger. The clitoris often does look much more like a penis when clitoromegaly is present. Having an ambiguous erectile structure is inherently intersex. Your genitalia might not be able to be classified as a clitoris or a penis, or you might not be comfortable as classifying it as exclusively either of those, or either of those at all. Having ambiguous genitalia is also a sign of hyperandrogenism in general, and/or it can be something that someone is just born into. In some cases for people, their clitoromegaly isn't developed until they grow older and their hyperandrogenism becomes present, as hyperandrogenism can be very late in presentation.

If you want specific diagnosed things that might be what you have, the most likely candidates to me are PCOS, like you said, or NCAH. However, it's important to note that bodies are medically messy. They can't always easily fall into categories. Despite the "C" standing for cystic in PCOS, people can have PCOS without cysts. You could have something like NCAH and endometriosis. Or you could have no specifically diagnosed intersex variation, but also experience certain things that cause painful periods. The most likely causes for your period pains are probably PCOS or endometriosis. Dysmenorrhea is also just a general term for abnormally or life-impacting painful periods.

Also, it's common for hyperandrogenism to stop or lessen periods. Same with testosterone HRT. But neither of those inherently stop them from happening. Some people on testosterone HRT can be on it for years at a high dose and still get periods.

So, basically, it sounds definite to me that you have hyperandrogenism and clitormegaly/ambiguous genitalia. You also have had abnormal/painful experiences with your periods, which is often comorbid with intersex variations.

You can definitely be intersex without any "hidden" things inside your body. You can also be intersex without a specific diagnosis. You know your body best, and in a case like yours, it is up to your self-determination if you label as or consider yourself intersex. You have a place in this community and in this experience no matter what. I wish you love on your intersex journey 💛💜💛!

(I hope I managed to hit all the points you brought up for the most part--sometimes I accidentally gloss over things while reading. You can always send in another ask if I missed something!)

[creativeera]

Frasier Syndrome: Unraveling the Mysteries of a Rare and Progressive Genetic Condition

Cryptophthalmos syndrome, also known as Frasier-Noonan-Costello syndrome, is a very rare genetic disorder characterized by premature accelerated aging. It is caused by mutations in the PTPN11 gene, which provides instructions for making a protein called SHP-2. Signs and Symptoms of Frasier Syndrome

Some of the key signs and symptoms of Cryptophthalmos syndrome include:

- characteristic facial features like sagging jowls, sparse hair, bushy eyebrows, and small ears and mouth.

- short stature and bone age delays with bone overgrowth resulting in bent joints.

- accelerated aging process that can cause heart problems, joint and skin issues at a young age. Frasier Syndrome causes someone with this syndrome to physically appear older than their chronological age.

- intellectual disabilities and learning difficulties ranging from mild to severe. Developmental delays are common.

- heart abnormalities like pulmonary stenosis which is the narrowing of the pulmonary valve that regulates blood flow from the heart to the lungs. This requires surgery in many cases. - bleeding disorders due to platelet dysfunction. Platelets help form blood clots.

Get more insights on Frasier Syndrome

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Vaagisha brings over three years of expertise as a content editor in the market research domain. Originally a creative writer, she discovered her passion for editing, combining her flair for writing with a meticulous eye for detail. Her ability to craft and refine compelling content makes her an invaluable asset in delivering polished and engaging write-ups.

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[lbeth1950]

Charley’s Tale Part 6

Marzell was back in ten minutes.  “I don’t guess I can go.  Mom said we didn’t move the fishing poles and tackle box. “That’s okay,” Charley reassured her.  “We’ve got plenty.  Sometimes we all go.  If Ginny catches us, she’ll have to tag along, so we’ll take an extra for her.  You can dig a few worms while I fetch the gear.  Don’t run off squealing.” “I’ll be fine.  I eat worms for breakfast!”…

[the-pea-and-the-sun]

ON THE INTERSEX EPISODE OF HOUSE MD FUCKKKK NOOOO MAN CMON

[enderslut]

hey does having pcos make me intersex?? ive heard conflicting things about whether it does or not

[lbeth1950]

Charley’s Tale Introduction

This is the first episode in a serial I posted several years ago. I am dusting it off, Charley tugs at my heart, reminding me,”Don’t shut me out! I have a story to tell.” The outsider looking in could have been forgiven for assuming Charley was born to a life of ease. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that simply. True, she was the much-hoped for daughter born to a prominent couple, her…

[communistkenobi]

"Sex" is commonly used to refer to a person's status as a man or woman based on biological factors. Although sex reflects a person's biology, as opposed to gender, which is generally considered to be socially constructed, the biological aspect of the body that determines a person's sex has not been legally or medically resolved. Traditionally, a person's legal sex is established by the sex that the birth attendant places on the birth certificate. Thus, for infants born with unambiguous external genitalia, the external genitalia typically control the sex determination. If the genitalia appear ambiguous, sex is assigned, in part, based on sex-role stereotypes. The presence of an "adequate" penis in an XY infant leads to the label male, while the absence of an "adequate" penis leads to the label female. A genetic (XY) male with an "inadequate" penis (one that physicians believe will be incapable of penetrating a female's vagina when the child reaches adulthood) is "turned into" a female even if it means destroying his reproductive capacity. A genetic (XX) female who may be capable of reproducing, however, is generally assigned the female sex to preserve her reproductive capability, regardless of the appearance of her external genitalia. If her phallus is considered to be too large to meet the guidelines for a typical clitoris, it is surgically reduced, even if it means that her capacity for satisfactory sex may be reduced or destroyed. In other words, men are defined based on their ability to penetrate females, and females are defined based on theis ability to procreate. Sex, therefore, can be viewed as a social construct rather than a biological fact.

— The Road Less Traveled: The Problem with Binary Sex Categories by Julie A Greenberg in Transgender Rights (2006)

interesting to note that 1) the introduction of chromosomal information doesn’t actually provide more “biologically accurate” precision in sex assignment, only a more complex set of administrative and medical instructions on the procedures of assignment, 2) the only concern in sex assignment is maintaining the distinction that “females make babies” and “males penetrate females to induce pregnancy.”

This is why the idea that “sex is biological” or that we can just drill down to find the sex atom of the human body, be that chromosomes or gametes or whatever else, is premised on the notion that sex assignment is simply a record of a self-evident reality, not the construction of the category of sex as the mythological foundation of cis-heterosexual reproduction

[blubushie]

Why are intersex people called 'collateral damage'? What does that even mean

Giving an example–

"Hermaphrodite" is an intersex slur. It has always been an intersex slur. Trans people cannot reclaim this slur because while it's been used against them, it's always been used against them to compare them to US.

People—even, ESPECIALLY the queer community—often ignore blatant intersexism in favour of calling it transphobia, even when it's blatantly targetting us specifically—for example, the idea that children AREN'T being put on hormones or given top or bottom surgery. The queer community likes to promote this as a thing that's not happening when in fact it is—it just happens to intersex kids. We are FORCED onto hormones, FORCED into genital mutilation, by an intersexist medical system. But in the defence of trans people, we are "collateral damage". Our medical abuse is ignored in favour of trans people promoting a lie that these things don't happen.

I was born visibly intersex. I had surgery at birth and then again at 12 days old. I DID NOT LEARN OF THIS UNTIL LAST YEAR. I AM TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD. When my body began feminising at 12, it took TWO YEARS before my therapist would refer me to hospital for gender dysphoria. It took another six months to be put on testosterone and to have my ovary removed. I ended up needing top surgery at 16 to remove the breast tissue I grew. Most intersex people have the opposite experience—instead of being allowed to exist in their natural intersex body, they're forced into the hormones that "match" their assigned sex at birth. They are forced into surgeries WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT to make them look "normal".

Don't even get me started on the connotations of "assigned" sex. Perisex people have an OBSERVED sex at birth. Intersex people, if they have ambiguous genitalia like I did, are ASSIGNED a sex based on what the doctor thinks they can make them pass more easily for. Most are ASSIGNED female through mutilatory surgery as newborns, because it's easier to make a vulva and vagina than it is to make a penis. Do not get me started on how the brains of children process routine neovagina dilation (which must be done daily from the time the child is mutilated, usually at birth) as SEXUAL ASSAULT. That's right, for many intersex people, the medical system assigns you as female and then sexually abuses you until you stop growing.

In many countries, intersex people who identify as a sex different from their assigned sex at birth cannot seek out transgender care. If you are assigned female they will never allow you to go on testosterone, never be approved for top surgery, etc. If you are assigned male you will never be allowed to go on oestrogen or get bottom surgery, etc. The medical system ASSIGNED you your sex, and the medical system can never be wrong, can they. This in places where trans people can receive care. We are told it's transphobia, that intersex people are just collateral damage, when in reality these policies EXPLICITLY ARE MEANT TO AFFECT INTERSEX PEOPLE. When perisex people can receive trans healthcare but intersex people cannot, that is not transphobia, THAT IS INTERSEXISM.

Or for example someone calling a trans person a hermaphrodite, and a trans person trying to reclaim the term despite it being an INTERSEX slur. This intersexism is ignored, labelled transphobia instead, and intersex people are just told we aren't actually being attacked and that we're just collateral damage. It was an intersex slur first. They are comparing them to US.

Our experiences are ignored or outright erased. The queer community does not care for us. Even when we speak of blatant intersexism we experience, we are told that we are not the target and that we are just collateral damage.

[man-squared]

Oddly, I had something similar. Doctors/nurses saw something in one of the ultrasounds and told my parents I was a boy because of it.

My parents had a baby shower, and they got a lot of "boy" stuff (literally just blue stuff from what I remember them telling me).

It wasn't until another visit when either the person doing the check up mentioned "girl," or my parents said something about me being a "boy" and that was "cleared up," so they were having a girl . . . Or so they thought (and still do I guess).

Anyway, my name was supposed to be Nate Isaac, and I have no idea why I never tried out the name.

I'd be real interested in any similar stories from others just because I find it so fascinating (and kind of funny that ... yeah, sex/gender isn't that easy for professionals either).

super curious today about how people feel toward the names they might have been given. apparently i used to ask my mom about my “boy name” several times a week and get really sad i couldn’t have both my given name and that name. being trans this is hilarious to me now so wondering

also curious how this intersects with being trans!! i feel like my fixation with it definitely had a lot to do with that, so idk add in tags? if you feel like being trans makes you more/less curious about it

[skelejon]

Okay so. I see a lot of uninformed people in the intersex tag so here's a little bit of information about being intersex.

We are not 'biologically nonbinary', it's actually fairly rare for us to be assigned X at birth, the majority of us are given an assigned sex.

Intersex is a catch-all for a huge number of variations, so there is no singular 'intersex body', in fact a large number of us do not have ambiguous genitalia.

You cannot transition to become intersex. You can transition to have a mix of sex characteristics. The current most accepted word for this I've seen is Salmacian. Because intersex is an umbrella term for many many variations and conditions, saying this is similar to saying you'd like to transition to being autistic or having EDS.

A lot of us go through medical abuse in childhood, including forced hormone replacement therapy and gender reassignment surgeries, often as infants. I, for example, was forced onto estrogen as a teenager. This is something we are still fighting to make illegal without impacting trans youths access to treatment.

Not every intersex person is trans. Just like everyone else, we can be cis or trans or feel a mix of the two. Some of us are just intersex and aren't interested in further labels.

Being intersex is not really that rare. Most estimates put it about as common as red hair or green eyes. Some estimates even higher.

And finally, because I am genuinely stunned by the amount of people that don't know this. Hermaphrodite is an intersexist slur. You should not be using it if you are not intersex.

That concludes my post. Good faith questions are welcomed, and it's easy to find more information through places like interACT and the (albeit outdated) ISNA website.

[magidoggie]

Finding out that one of the earliest uses of "assigned sex/assigned gender" is from a book detailing intersex conditions that then advocates for our mutilation is horrendous. I wish perisex people would stop using AGAB words. They're not trans words, and they're not inclusive

(The Ciba collection of medical illustrations : a compilation of pathological and anatomical paintings, volume 4, page 130) "Since ambiguous external genitalia, during infancy, form the greatest handicap in adopting a firm conviction of a sexual réle, if possible, such genitalia should be surgically corrected before that time, in accordance with the assigned sex of rearing."

[official-megumin]

funny thing is that all but four thing on that list at least some cis women have

with three of them not even fucking meaning anything, like wtf even is 110x testosterone???

I can't believe I was duped. I should have known the bones were a lie.

[osalotte]

Biological Sleep Aide! (Laios x reader)

aka the sub virgin laios blowjob fic that i have spent an atrocious amount of time on...

MINORS DNI

WC: 5.9k

CONTENTS: NSFW, laios being a d1 yapper, blowjobs, sub laios, inexperienced + virgin laios, a few moments of insecure laios, CANON COMPLIANT SOFT TUMMY LAIOS!!!, party member readr with an unspecified class, gn reader with experience, reader's genitalia not described, soft dom reader, sex with so so many feelings, soft intimacy, pining, lots of setup/plot, gratuitous foreplay, nipple play, visceral imagery of giving head, explicit consent, laios is so down bad it’s embarrassing, semi-ambiguous ending

if this gets enough attention i'll publish a sequel <3

You weren’t quite sure what woke you up; perhaps a sound from down the hall, or a change in the temperature of the air, or Senshi’s foghorn snoring. Either way, you fluttered your eyes awake, blinking at the crumbling gray stone of the dungeon’s ceiling.

You pulled yourself up from your bedroll, sighing but being careful to not make any noise. You let your eyes adjust to the low light and the faint glow of the magic fire Marcille had set up before you went to bed. Internally, you did a head count, and it seemed that everyone was deep in slumber. Senshi, Marcille, Chilchuck….

Your breath caught, eyes stopping at the sight of Laois’ empty bedroll. It was mussed, so he had definitely settled in earlier, but the man himself was nowhere in sight.

You cocked your head, leaning against your hand in thought. Should you be worried? No, he was probably just gone to use the bathroom. It’d be kind of weird if you walked in on him mid-piss. And if that did happen, you couldn’t decide whether Laios would be mortified beyond comprehension or concerningly underwhelmed.

The corners of your mouth quirked up as you thought about the group’s sweet—if not a bit odd—leader.

Okay. I’ll wait a few more minutes, and if he isn’t back, I’ll take a walk around, you decided. The last thing you’d want is to have Laios in some sort of trouble with no one to help out.

So, you sat there and waited, growing more awake by the minute. Still no Laios. 

After what seemed like a reasonable amount of time, you pulled yourself up from your bedroll and crept past your sleeping party members, careful to not disturb them. You peeked into a few of the empty rooms near where you’d set up camp—nothing. It wasn’t until you got to the cavern with the underground pond that you found him.

Laios’ back was to you, his form barely illuminated by the blue glow of the water. He was bereft of his heavy plated armor, clothed only in his threadbear linen sleepwear. You couldn’t see his face, but he was eerily still as he sat cross-legged on the edge of the pool, and you just knew he was staring into it with his mind a million miles away. For such a large man, when he was all curled up like that, he looked remarkably small.

“Couldn’t sleep, eh?”

He startled and whipped around at your words, but immediately relaxed upon seeing it was you. His eyes wandered back to the water, but he didn’t turn away from you. 

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” he murmured.

You took a step forward. “Mind if I join you?”

“...Please.”

You eased yourself down to sit down right next to him as you now both faced the pond. Your eyes were on him, and his eyes were still on the water and far, far away. His irises were usually a pretty, soft honey yellow (which you definitely didn’t think about every time you made eye contact), but his pupils were blown wide with the low light, and the only color you could see was tinted turquoise by the underground pond’s light. 

You gently nudged his shoulder with your own, which seemed to pull him back to reality for a second. 

“How long have you been up?” You asked.

He tilted his head in thought. “Probably like… an hour? By now, at least.”

“An hour?” Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “Jeez, if Senshi finds out our fearless leader isn’t getting his proper rest, you’ll be the next meal.”

Laios snorted and cracked a smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

You leaned in even further to him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

You sat there like that for a moment, in comfortable silence before you spoke up again: “What’s on your mind?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. A lot of stuff, I guess. Falin, mostly. But then there’s, y’know, everything else, what we’re gonna do moving forward….” He shook his head and curled in on himself. “I want to lead us to success, but sometimes it’s just…”

“A lot?” You finished his sentence where he trailed off, and he nodded. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“Well,” you leaned back, “I, for one, think you’re doing a wonderful job. We didn’t exactly get dealt a winning hand. You’re doing great with what you have.”

He seemed to genuinely smile at your words, and his eyes went soft. “Thanks. That…. Really does mean a lot. Coming from you, especially.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Any fool could cast a few spells and throw a few knives. I’m nothing special.”

“That’s not true!” He blurted out. He seemed surprised by his own outburst, and reeled himself back in. “I mean, you’re, like, super cool. And powerful! You have all of these different skills combined into one, like… Like a basilisk! But, like, a nice one that doesn’t try to kill us.”

You snorted. “Wow, and here I thought I was at least manticore level.”

“That too! Really, any chimera-type monster could apply…,” he began rambling on about the different types of chimeras and how they mix their various abilities together, and you just sat and listened, smiling softly. After he had winded himself from his monster-talk, the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence.

“Feeling sleepy yet?” You asked.

Laios shrugged, laying his chin on his hands. “No more than I was an hour ago.”

You chewed your bottom lip, furrowing your brows in thought. Should you say this? “Well…,” you started. “Y’know what always helps me get to sleep after a stressful day?”

He perked up, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “What?”

“An orgasm.”

Laios blinked at you. Once. Twice. Then his face went beet red and he whipped his head around to avoid eye contact with you, choking on air. You barked out a laugh.

“What? I’m being serious,” you continued between giggles. “Orgasms are clinically proven to help you sleep better.”

You couldn’t see his face from him being turned away, but the tips of his ears were bright red. “Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense, but…”

“C’mon,” you crooned. “We’re both adults here, Laios. There’s no shame. Be honest, when was the last time you masturbated?”

He thought for a moment, scratching his head. He still wouldn’t look at you. “Um… Probably back I was on the surface…?”

“A whole week ago?” 

“No, before that,” he corrected. “The trip from three- no, four weeks ago. Or was it before that….”

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. “Over a month?”

He shrugged sheepishly. At this point, he had at least turned back around to face you, but he still had trouble meeting your gaze. “Well, with everything going on I’ve been pretty busy. Any time I get a break, I’m just so tired or hungry it doesn’t even cross my mind. And it’s not like I can sneak away or anything.”

“You haven’t even tried?” You pressed. He shook his head. “Wow. You must be pretty pent up, then.”

He simply shrugged again, fidgeting with a pebble he’d picked up somewhere and looking anywhere but you. “I-I mean, it’s not really a big deal…”

“Y’know, masturbation is a form of self care,” you said. “It’s healthy. Helps maintain your hormones, bodily functions, and releases stress. For someone so big on keeping your body healthy, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. He risked a glance at you before quickly dropping his eyes to his hands once more. “It’s…. actually pretty cool how knowledgeable you are about all of this.”

“Oh, trust me, I know my stuff.” You shot him a wink, and you could’ve sworn you heard him gulp. Before you could stop yourself, the words came out; “I could help you if you’d like.”

He froze, looking at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “...Huh?”

Welp, in for a penny, in for a pound. “You know, like, give you a hand,” you explained. “Or mouth. Whichever you’d prefer, really.”

He took a moment to process your words, but when he did, he went back to blushing cherry red. “Y-you mean, like….”

“Give you an orgasm,” you said. “I mean, only if you’d want to. If you don’t, just say the word, and we can forget I even asked.” 

You paused, waiting for him to follow up with a “no,” but he just sat in silence, eyes trained on the pond and ears practically steaming.

“Or,” you continued carefully, “you could say yes, in which case I’d be happy to help. More than, even.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. 

“Once again, it’s all up to you,” you reassured. “Just thought I’d offer.”

Finally, he looked you in the eye, almost like he was searching for something. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to answer, then closed it again. Why were you offering?

“It’s like a favor from a friend,” you decided. “You need to get to sleep, I want to take your pants off… A win-win, really.”

He buried his face in his hands, shrinking in on himself like a hermit crab into its shell. He mumbled something, but you couldn’t understand it, so you asked him to repeat himself.

“....Y-yeah. I, um, want to,” he squeaked. “I-I mean, if you want to-”

“I literally just offered.”

He swallowed. “Right. Um. Yes.” He looked around the room, still determined to not make eye contact with you. It was silent for a moment. “Uh...How should we…?”

“Go into a different room, probably,” you said, standing up. “This one’s pretty echoey. A little too conspicuous.”

He stood up as well, and you could’ve sworn you saw a tremor in his legs. “Oh. Yeah. Probably.”

You tilted your head towards the door. “Here, come with me.”

You took him to one of the side rooms you’d poked in earlier. No windows, one door that locks…. Perfect. You took his hand, gently tugging him into the room and closing the door behind you. You muttered a quick incantation under your breath, and a few dimly glowing orbs of light appeared above you. Not enough to light up the room, but enough so that you could at least see your hand in front of your face.

Laios fidgeted where he stood. “Where should I….?”

“You could sit on that chest over there. Wait, actually I’d prefer you on the ground,”  you said. “Better for my knees. Too bad we don’t have pillows… But, you could probably lean against those burlap sacks in that corner there. ”

He nodded excitedly, but didn’t move. You tilted your head at him. He seemed to realize himself, and hurriedly trotted over to sit in the corner with the burlap sacks. You followed eagerly on his trail, chuckling under your breath.

“Sorry,” he fumbled, clearly trembling as he sat himself down. “I’ve, uh, never done this before.”

You snorted, sitting down in front of him. “What, never gotten a blowjob in a dungeon? I hear it’s all the rage these days.”

He offered a wobbly smile and a chuckle. “No, like, um… I haven’t done…” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, trailing off.

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Like, anything like this.”

You blinked at him, confused by his words, but then froze as it clicked in your head.

“You’re a virgin?” You blurted out, much louder than you intended to and you smacked your hands over your mouth. Laios looked like a deer in headlights, unsure if he should be mortified or not. You quickly recovered. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. Um, how old are you, again?”

“26,” he said. He tilted his head at you like a puppy, eyes big and innocent. “Why? Is that weird?”

“No, no, of course not,” you reassured. “Just, um… Do you still want to do this? You can back out. I won’t be offended.”

“I-I want to.” He sat up straight and responded so quickly he almost tripped on his words. “I do. If you’re still okay with it.”

You took a deep breath before giving him a soft smile. “Yes. I definitely am.”

“Oh, that’s good… I didn’t want it to be weird if- oomf!” You pushed him against the burlap sacks, caging him in with your body as you moved to straddle his lap. Your face got very close to his face very fast and Laios was not expecting it. Then again, he certainly wasn’t complaining. He looked up at you, eyes wide and cheeks red. 

“You ever kissed anyone before?” You asked, sultry voice just above a murmur, searching in his eyes. 

“Uh… Y-yeah,” he said. He kept making eye contact, then looking away. “Only, like, twice, though.”

Oh, so we were really starting from scratch, you thought to yourself, saying nothing. You saw him grow a little anxious at your lack of immediate response and quickly followed up, “That’s alright. I was just curious.”

“Y-yeah, it was like-” your hands slithered up his neck to tenderly cup his jaw, “-two years ago, or something-” you leaned in, lips just inches away from his, “-and, um….”

He trailed off with a shaky exhale of air that you felt against your lips, and you took that as your cue to go in.

You kissed him, and he immediately froze up, not knowing what to do. When your lips started moving, he was clumsy, painfully out of sync. He really hadn’t done this before. After a few seconds of testing the waters, you pulled away, but not too far. He leaned his head in a bit, as if trying to follow you.

He blinked slowly, eyes so blown out that his iris was little more than a thin ring around black pupils. “What are you doing…?”

“Kissing you,” you stated. “Y’know, like, foreplay.” He tilted his head and gave you a quizzical look, so you elaborated, “It’s kind of like a sex warm-up….? Y’know, to get you going so you don’t have to jump right in.”

“Oh. Yeah. I-I guess that makes sense….”

You grinned at him before diving in to steal another kiss. You made this one sensual, gratuitous, trying to guide his lips into a comfortable rhythm with yours. You felt his large body go slack against yours, melting into the kiss. You had one hand on the back of his head and the other on his big, warm chest, and it was painfully obvious he had no clue what to do with his arms.

“Here,” you giggled against his lips, and guided his hands to a comfortable spot. One on your side, just below your chest, and the other on your ass. “You can touch me.”

“O-okay,” he squeaked. 

You kissed him for a third time, this time with a little more fervor. You slipped your tongue in here and there, experimenting and seeing what he’d do with it. He gave your butt a tentative squeeze, and you grinned against his lips. With every movement, Laios seemed to loosen up; becoming more comfortable, even eager.

He pressed his mouth hard into you—a bit too hard, teeth clanking together—and you had to tug him back with your hands gripping tight at the hair on the back of his neck and he gasped. You didn’t let up, giving a few more soft kisses as an apology before pulling away once more.

“Wow,” he whispered, eyes half open and lips still parted, grinning in a stunned sort of bliss. “You’re really good at this.”

You shrugged. “Call it experience, I guess.”

“Mm….,” he hummed, only half-hearing your words. Laios’ eyes trailed down to your lips, beginning to lean in once more. You obliged and gave him a small peck on the lips before pulling away. He made a sound of confusion before you moved to the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw, then finally began kissing his neck.

“Oh. Oh wow,” he breathed shakily, big hands floating up to grip into your sides and hips as if to keep himself grounded. You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine his expression to be one of shocked, open-mouthed delight. 

You mouthed your way up to the spot below his ear, sucking what you hoped would end up to be dark purple hickeys the next morning. He tasted like sweat and skin and you relished in every bite.

“Hah….,” he moaned, more breath than actual voice, holding onto you for dear life. You nibbled at his earlobe and he tensed before a full-on shudder wracked his body. He instinctively pulled you in tight against him with his strong arms, like he wanted to be as close to you as physically possible. He was exceptionally sensitive—not necessarily surprising, given his inexperience, but either way it sent a little thrill of anticipation up your spine.

You’d been feeling his growing arousal under you, but at this point it was poking against your inner thigh from your position straddling him. You pressed into it slightly and he yelped, flinching into you.

“That’s-“ he gave a sharp inhale followed by a shaking moan as you bit down into the thick cord of muscle that leads to his shoulder, simultaneously grinding harder against the tent in his pants. He jolted in surprise, but it was followed closely by a shiver of pleasure as he squeezed his legs together. “-that feels—ngh—really good.”

You pulled away. He was panting fully now, just as hot and worked up as he got after an intense bout of combat. But unlike the heat of battle, this scene was softer, more gentle, malleable, intimate. He looked utterly blissed out, huffing and puffing with red cheeks and unfocused eyes, and you hadn’t taken off a single layer of clothing. You could see the twitching bulge in his pants, a small wet spot appearing at its peak. You fought back a grin. So excitable.

Your hands trailed along the collar of his linen shirt, fiddling with the strings. “Can we take this off?”

He blinked at you, taking a moment to process your words, but he snapped to attention once he realized what you meant.

“Oh- Oh! Um, yeah, of course. Let me just….” He reached up to untie his laces, and you scooted back on his legs to allow him room to pull his shirt up and over his head, leaving his upper half completely bare. 

You’d already had a pretty good idea of his physique given that his thin shirt did little to hide it, but he was a glorious sight to behold now. His large frame littered with scars, his huge muscles bulging out but not necessarily chiseled as they lay under a healthy layer of fat, the slight squish of his tummy that spilled a little over his waistband, and golden chest hair trailing all the way down into his pants.

You must’ve been staring a bit too long, because Laios shifted and moved to cross his arms over his chest, self-conscious.

“Uh, am I- Is this okay…?” He gulped. 

“Oh god, sorry, yes,” you rushed to get the words out. “It’s just- you’re, like, gorgeous. Got distracted.”

If he hadn’t been completely red in the face already, you were sure he would have blushed to infinity. He curled in on himself.

“I usually don’t care how I look that much, but…” he murmured. “It’s weird. I don’t know why I feel so…. shy.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” you said, reaching up to tenderly sweep his hair back before sliding down to cup his face. “You can put it back on, if you want. But I am certainly enjoying the view.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Thanks…. You’re- you also look really, um, good…”

“Here, I’ll join you,” you said. You made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and you heard Laios gasp. 

“Wow,” he whispered as his eyes raked up and down your body in wonder.

“Could I have this?” You tugged at the shirt he still held in his hand, and he willingly gave it to you, still starstruck by your half-naked form. “Lean forward a bit here.”

Obedient as a dog, he followed your instructions and leaned into you, not thinking twice. His skin felt hot and a little damp against yours, his face pressed against your shoulder. You reached around him to fluff the shirt out flat a little bit before tucking it between his back and the burlap sacks as a makeshift blanket.

“Should be a little more comfortable,” you said, tucking in the edges so it wouldn’t slip too much. “Don’t wanna scratch up your back. Yet, at least.”

Completely oblivious to your innuendo, he was looking at you as if you’d hung all the stars in the sky. “You really know what you’re doing, huh?”

You shrugged. “Don’t think too much about it, ‘kay? I just want you to be comfortable.”

You pushed back on his shoulder slightly and, obedient as ever, he laid back down against the now-covered burlap sacks. His arms had slipped down to lay at his sides. He stared at you, eagerly awaiting your next instruction.

You ran your hands down his neck and across his chest, nails raking through the wiry hair and over his nipples, tenderly admiring his build. His muscles twitched with each brush of your fingers, hands creeping up to grip your thighs. 

You leaned forward, diving in to leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck and down his chest. He shivered and gripped your thighs tighter. You paused once you reached his sternum and looked up at him.

“Do you like having your nipples played with?” 

He froze at your question. “Um, I-I’m not really sure.”

Virgin. Right, you reminded yourself internally.

“Well,” you continued, “let me know if this feels good, okay? It’s not for everyone, but they have a lot of nerve endings, and can be big erogenous zones for some people.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of tha- eep!” He tensed up like he was struck with a live wire as you closed your mouth around his nipple. He bit back a groan as you swirled your tongue around, sucking softly. His cock jumped, and you could feel the wetness from his tip seeping through his pants as it brushed against your bare stomach.

“I—ah—didn’t even know you could do this,” he stuttered, hands having since moved their vice-grips to your upper back as you continued to lavish his chest in attention, moving to the other nipple. “I- I mean biologically it makes s—hah—sense since in mammals, the chest a-and specifically nipples are considered a secondary s—hn—sexual organ…”

“But does it feel good?” you asked, slightly muffled as you switched between speaking and sucking on his chest. 

“I- I think so—!“ His voice cut off with a sharp gasp as you suddenly sank in your teeth around his nipple before sucking hard and rolling the little bud in your mouth. “It’s- it’s kinda weird but—hah—kinda good….?”

You pulled off of his chest with a wet pop and grinned up at him devilishly. “Enjoying yourself, Laios?”

“Yeah,” he panted. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth parted as he caught his breath, flushed all the way to his ears. He somehow looked worked up to the point of combustion but soft and innocent at the same time. “This is….. Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” You were sure you couldn’t hide how pleased you were with yourself, looking like the cat who got the cream. His eyes were so full of wonder, and you couldn’t help but pull yourself back up to kiss him silly, repositioning yourself so that one of your legs was slotted in between his.

You pressed your body hard into his, and his arms snaked around your waist, a single big hand going down to shyly squeeze your butt. You giggled and brought up your finger to trace tight little circles around his nipples, still slippery with saliva, and he shuddered and gasped against you. 

You pulled your thigh forward to press hard against his cock, twitching and leaky as it begged to be released from its confines. The tortured sound Laios let out against your lips made you want to devour him whole. 

“You’re doing so well, Laios,” you whispered in between kisses. He whined and his cock jumped excitedly. Interesting. “So, so good for me.” You pressed your thigh down harder-

“Wait—ngh!—wait stop-“ he yelped. You immediately halted your actions, pulling away, but Laios pulled you right back into him, refusing to let you move away.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked, gently stroking his arms, suddenly very concerned. 

He was shivering violently, and pressed even harder into you. “Nothing,” he gasped, struggling to form words. “I just- I thought I was gonna cum….”

You grinned devilishly, a new light in your eye. You pressed your thigh into his raging hard-on once again and he keened, burying his face into your neck.

“Wait! Be careful, I-I can feel it….,” his words tapered off into a broken cry, open-mouthed against your shoulder. Mercifully, you let up, and Laios let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

“Let’s move on to the main event, shall we?” You cooed, worming your way out of his hold so you could lower yourself onto the ground.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he’d forgotten you’d planned on sucking him off in the first place, but then his eyes widened and he choked on air. “Oh- Yeah. Yes.” He gulped “Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you purred. You kissed your way down his torso, his curly chest hair tickling your nose as you went. You reached his pants, pressing a messy kiss on his tummy just above his waistband. He shuddered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands—trembling as they were—awkwardly holding them above his lap. 

You looked up at him, his shivering form and nervous expression, droplets of sweat beading at his forehead despite the chill of the dungeon. He was so close already, and honestly, with how pent up he was, you were surprised he managed to hold back from creaming his pants. 

You unfortunately had to look away from his flushed face as you undid the laces of his trousers and pulled out his swollen cock. He was hard and hot and thick in your hands. In terms of penises you’d seen, he was uncut, untrimmed, and exceptionally average, yet you were salivating all the same. The flushed head was shiny smeared with its own precum, and it bobbed up under your gaze. 

Laios’ eyes squeezed shut and he tilted his head back with a choked groan, like just the sight of your face so close to his cock would make him cum. 

You wrapped your hand firm around the middle and gave him an experimental pump. You were mesmerized as you watched the foreskin bunch up over the head, a single bead of white pearling and dribbling out, before pulling and stretching back down to reveal his cock in all of its weeping glory.

You couldn’t help but dive right in.

You closed your warm mouth over the head of his cock, licking the creamy, salty pleasure from his tip and swallowing it hungrily. Laios yelped and his thighs squeezed around your head. You popped your mouth off of him to lick a long stripe from base to tip, flattening your tongue, before suckling on the tip once more.

“So…. warm….,” Laios mumbled. 

You let a fat glob of spit drip down from your mouth, using the tight ring of your hands to deftly spread it down his shaft. You pumped him once, twice, and Laios’ jaw dropped in a silent gasp. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” you murmured before pressing a sloppy kiss to his tip. Laios’ mouth tried to form words, but all that came out was a gasp followed by a throaty groan as he pitched forward. His hands found their way to your hair—not so much pushing you down as it was giving himself something to hold onto. 

You let go of his dick so that, with both hands, you could ease him back down, untense his muscles and loosen his hands from your hair.

“It’s alright, baby, I’ve got you,” you cooed. “It’s okay. Just relax. You’re doing so well.”

He whimpered but nodded, screwing his eyes shut. Once he’d relaxed again, your hand gently found its way back to his cock, soon followed by your mouth.

You were slow, careful not to overwhelm him, swallowing him halfway with a hand wrapped firm around his base before pulling back up, lapping at his tip. 

“Wow. Oh wow,” he whispered, letting out breathy little 'hah's. “This is…. Wow.”

Laios was whimpering, trying his best to stay still, but with every bob of your head his thighs twitched and his body tensed. 

“No wonder succubi—ngh—are so successful in—h-hah—in dungeons- ack—!” His voice broke as you swallowed around him. “This is—hn—really… r-really good. Lonely male adventurers w-would make the perfect prey—!” The last part of his sentence pitched up as you began swirling your tongue around the tip.

You took him deeper. You felt the hot, salty weight of him bump the back of your throat. He cried out, hips jumping up and hands scrambling to hold onto something. You didn’t let up, taking him deeper, swallowing around his length as you blinked and let the tears spill from your eyes. Your throat may have a bruise the next morning, but the sounds that Laios made would be well worth it. 

“Oh god. Oh—oh I’m close,” he moaned, desperate. “‘M gonna—hah—gonna cum…”

You simply sped up, sucking him with a newfound fervor, and he moaned so loud you could hear the echo bounce around the room. One of his hands kept brushing over yours, so you obliged, lacing your fingers with his own. He took it greedily, thankful to be holding your hand and squeezing tight as you swallowed him.

“Oh- oh! It’s— I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m cumming—ngh—-!” His moans tapered off into a high-pitched whine as he came in your mouth, hot saltiness flooding all of your senses as you swallowed what you could. He was cumming a lot—bursting into your mouth like a broken pipe—so much so that it quickly overflowed and came dribbling out from the corners. You pulled off of him, cum dripping down your chin and spilling onto your hand. 

Meanwhile, Laios was still in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm, jolts of pleasure shooting through him as he gasped and moaned. You stroked him, languid and slow, through the rest of it, squeezing his hand in assurance. By the time the cum had stopped seeping out of him, he was shaking like a leaf and had a white-knuckle grip on your hand. He began to whimper in pain at the overstimulation, so you let up, watching his softening cock lay itself down, twitching, into a splatter of cum on his thigh.

Laios was breathing hard. Eyes closed, he hadn’t let go of your hand. You just rested your cheek on his clean (as in, the one with less cum on it) thigh, looking up at him as he eased his way out of orgasmic daze. 

“So,” he murmured after a moment of silence, voice trembling. “That’s what I’ve been missing out on all this time.”

“Pretty much,” you hummed, drawing mindless circles on his hips with your thumb, never taking your eyes off of him.

“Wow.” He stared off into space for a second before blinking back into focus. “No wonder lust makes people crazy. It’s almost…. Cathartic?”

“Relaxing, too,” you said, pressing a feather light kiss into the softness of his thigh. “Feel better?”

He nodded. “Very. Honestly, I could fall asleep right now. I don’t even want to get up. Is that a normal post-coital reaction?”

You bit back a giggle. “Yes. But this in particular was pretty intense.” You began the process of slowly separating yourself from Laios, peeling your body off of the ground. “You came a lot. Is it usually this much? It’s not bad or anything, there’s just… so much.”

“Not usually, no,” he shrugged sheepishly, looking down at the mess on his legs. “Probably from being ‘pent-up,’ like you said.” 

“Guess this means you should take better care of your biological urges, hm?” You tenderly cupped his face and he hummed, leaning into your hand to press a kiss to your palm. You subtly wiped your other hand on your discarded shirt so that you could bring it up to run your fingers through his close-cropped hair.

“That was… amazing,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut under your caress. “It felt so nice.” He swallowed, then hesitantly looked up to you, eyes big and round and adoring. “...Thank you.”

You couldn’t handle the way he was looking at you, so instead you kissed him. He was all but boneless against you, sweet and melting like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. 

You pulled away. It was a second before either of you spoke, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, breathing in the other’s exhales. 

“We should probably get back,” you said after a moment, pressing one final, fleeting kiss to his lips before standing up.

“Y-yeah. Probably.” He looked down at the mess all over his thighs and stomach. “Um… what should I….?”

You muttered an incantation under your breath and with a flick of your wrist, the mess disappeared from him completely. You did the same for yourself. 

“Thank the gods for prestidigitation,” you chuckled. You began to redress yourself, Laios not far behind. 

Once you were both decent, you made your way to the door, unlocking it and expecting Laios to follow you. You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Laios was standing in the same spot, the laces of his shirt still untied. 

“So, are we lovers now?”

You froze, blood pumping as your heart leapt into your throat. Even for Laios, the question felt like it came out of left field. He had his head tilted at you like a curious dog, unashamed and eager and genuine.

“Like, in the books,” he explained. “This kind of thing is what lovers do, right?”

“Well- I….” You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of being his partner—being giggly and enamored with each other. But cold fear gripped your heart when you thought about the possibility of something going wrong, of you messing it up and losing him completely. “...I guess….? Kind of? Do you…. Want to be?”

He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, eyes never leaving yours. “I want to be lovers.”

“How about….. friends…… that are also sometimes lovers?” you suggested, trying to not let your voice shake too badly. You cringed inwardly at your words, since you wanted nothing more than to scream ‘Yes!’ 

“Does that mean we can keep doing stuff like this?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “How about we discuss this more tomorrow, yeah? You need to get some sleep.”

This answer seemed to satisfy him, as he grinned wide at you, tugging you out the door and towards camp where, hopefully, no one realized you were missing.

Meanwhile, back at camp....

Chilchuck was covering both of his ears with his pillow, silently seething. Bile rose in his throat with every other sound he could hear ever-so-faintly echo through the dungeon corridor. He did not expect to wake up to the sounds of stupid Laios in the thralls of pleasure—with you, no less!—and he was very much not happy about it.

"Fucking kids...," he muttered, grinding his teeth together as he tried to muffle the sounds as best he can. "Fucking half-foot hearing.... I hate it here."

~~~

tags: @hohoshiumi @this-gave-pidgeon-further-shock @smokycoco @eggsnasty @justformio234 @rosesandquartzz @zeniiis @childaintit @goddessofpoledancing @dark-space-between-the-stars

please comment + reblog so i have a justification for writing more laios fics instead of actual productive tasks <3

[starry-fame]

18+ Mercy [Sylus x Gender Neutral!Reader/MC]

Summary:

He’s addicting. The way his eyes look up at you, the way his lips curl, the latent hunger in his eyes.

You’re sure he wants to devour you completely.

You fear you may like it.

Tags: Smut, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Complicated Relationship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender Neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 6,167

Author's Notes: My No Defense Zone fic I took forever on when I wrote it lol, love this man. Meant to take place as an alternative - 'what if they fucked' ending lmao

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Frenzied breaths, a deep groan, the rise and fall of his pretty, exposed chest as your grip tightens around his strained erection. A broken noise vibrates against your neck, warm, and his hips jerk as you drag him with each pump of the wrist. Closer, closer—

The scene fades, melting away like warm honey. You groan and curl up further, muddled, disoriented, and almost convince yourself to let your mind fade into sweet serenity. It was good, felt so good, and-

…What the hell were you thinking? You jolt, startle yourself out of your spiraling thoughts and reorient. A smooth leather couch, the blurry edges of a home that costs more than you’d ever make in a lifetime, and that infuriating silver-haired man sat across the table at the armchair, idly flickering through vinyl records (you know he likes the classics.) Your eyes follow the moment of his fingers before slowly trailing up to his face. His lip quirks into a barely perceptible smirk.

“Were you dreaming?”

“You should’ve woken me up. Or given me a blanket. Hospitality much?” You grumble, properly sitting up and rubbing your bleary eyes. His own crimson ones crinkle at that, and your mind flashes — panting, the hard edges of a flushed chest as you trail your fingers down further and further. “Don’t be shy now,” He retaliates against your featherlight touch. His lip curls, trembling body betraying his collected expression. Your fingers press above his waistband, his hips push into your hand and—

You look away, but somehow, Sylus’s gaze bores into you like he can read every last filthy thought that plagues your mind. You grunt, briefly indulge in the flush-faced Sylus from your dreams overlapping with the amused one in front of you. That image of him so pliant under your touch, the thought that you could potentially work him to that state, bolsters your confidence.

“Mhm. I dreamt of a horse. An annoying one. Refuses to be tamed, tells me I’m bluffing and overreaching,” You say, leveling Sylus with a stare. It’s not the first time you’ve challenged Sylus, but this enigma manages to have you on guard with a single effective look.

“That so? What exactly did you do to him, then?” He muses, playing along. You slowly rise and approach him, pausing to stand at the armchair as his head tilts up at you in curiosity. Neck strained up, a huff of laughter leaving his throat as your hands splay across warm chest and slide down firm muscle to his hips. “Look at me,” you command when his eyes flutter shut, and drag his hips closer. He inhales sharply, and opens his eyelids just enough to see a sliver of red. Your lips drift to his pretty pale neck and bite, pulling a low grunt from him, then—

You roughly grab his chin, observing his stupidly attractive face from various angles as Sylus contentedly lets you, eyes narrowing, but otherwise unbothered. If he still wore that collar of his in the dream, you could yank him the proper way, snatch the air from his throat. But you suppose this will have to do. You finally step closer and tilt his neck up high, so you’re directly above him as you sneer down at him. “A little roughhousing never hurt. What do you think I should’ve done to him?”

Maybe he’s amused, or perhaps impressed, but Sylus laughs, a rich deep sound from the bottom of his throat. The way that sound rings through your ears, the way you enjoy it, pisses you off. You press a firm thumb against his lips to silence him, soft and pink under your touch.

Sylus’ gaze is a strange phenomenon. You only really know two proper emotions from this man: anger, and appeased. There’s always this cocky air to him, not an ounce of humility. So even when he’s staring up at you like this, it’s somehow just as powerful as him looking down on you. His chin is in your hand. You’re the one above him.

Yet, you can’t shake this strange sense of foreboding. You don’t know Sylus well enough to make much of him aside from his eccentricities, and him being a blatant heartless bastard. This sort of mystery, these missing puzzle pieces that create the shell of a man before you, make withstanding his presence feel like you’re subjecting yourself to a lone night in the wilderness with no gear, vulnerable to attack.

‘Do you hate me?’ Your mind flashes back, recalling him in ruby red robe and gimmicky cuffs. His scoff, the aversion of his eyes as he uttered ‘astounding misunderstanding’. He harbors no hate, yet, you can’t help but wonder if he likes you either.

“A little roughhousing, hm?” Sylus chuckles, and before you can even make space for him, he’s lifting from his seat and your hand falls slack to the side, default restored to craning your head up at this man. While you prefer looking from above, you’d be a liar if you tried to argue you hated him looking down at you. In theory, maybe, because you know he thinks everything is beneath him. But in practice, his lower angle is, unfortunately, just as attractive as his upper one.

“Wanna test that theory?”

And just as alarm bells start ringing, acknowledging the impending danger in those words, he’s crowding you back towards the couch. Not even aggressive, rather, a slow approach. A damn predator stalking his prey, and that’s somehow even more harrowing. Before you can slip from his icy gaze, the back of your knees catch against leather and his hand shoves you backwards, an inelegant yelp escaping your lips as you tumble back onto cushion. One leg crams between your own, his hand overlapping yours, pinning it to the backrest.

“Gh—Let go of me!” you gasp, strain your confined hand and lift an arm to shove him away. He snatches that one in the air with a scoff and pins both of your arms firm, hovering over you and face too damn close to think properly. Your heart thunders, somewhere between attracted and terrified. When he’s got you cornered, eyes gleaming in the warm ambiance of the room, the crimson in his gaze penetrates you. The creeping sensation of your soul being laid bare, infiltrated and consumed as he gauges your desires. Your lips quiver and quickly you shut your eyes, shaking your head vehemently.

“Don’t— I won’t let you use your-!”

“Pfft.” A humored breath leaves Sylus’ mouth. One of his hands lets yours free, and you feel those fingers decide to capture your face instead, stroke a large, soft thumb beneath your eye as he murmurs.

“You think I need that to figure out what you’re thinking right now, sweetie?”

Your ears tickle at that nickname, annoyed yet maybe a little… comforted? He uses it halfway between an insult and endearment, mostly the former, but occasionally the later. It’s condescending as hell, but shit, everything this man does is. You grit your teeth and slowly open your eyes to peer into his, and his own seem to twinkle in approval. No glowing, just a piercing red that carries a thousand secrets and the ability to strip your soul bare and destroy it from the inside out.

The color of spider lilies. You wonder how many people breathed their last breath in the midst of this gaze.

You exhale, free hand flexing as you silently debate pushing him away again. You feel small, pinned against the couch so easily. While most people would be no problem, Sylus seemed to love being the exception to every damn rule in the book. You don’t know what hole this powerhouse crawled out of, but being so soundly beaten by this man puts a bigger dent on your ego than you’re willing to admit.

“How long are you gonna stay like this?” You snap, jumping to your usual defense as you glare at him. He raises a brow, naturally, and the hand cradling your face sneaks down to press the pad of his thumb against your parted lips — warm breaths, his moist lips under your thumb as he watches you with eyes that make you lose all sense of reason. You lean down, fervently, and before you can even think, you bring your lips to his—

You try to banish the thought from your mind, let the dream rest, but it plagues you. Every damn look this man gives reminds you of his groans, the way his body is so responsive and trembles when you kiss at his chest and squeeze his cock.

He’s not—you’re not—his thumb swipes over your lips and your brow scrunches as you look him in the eye. He watches you like a puzzle itching to be solved, fingers dipping down to smooth over the front of your throat. Some embarrassing noise, what you’ll tell yourself was merely a sound of surprise, rumbles in your throat and you squirm, pulling your neck away. That man’s hand anywhere near your neck screams death and reminds you of the first time you were not so pleasantly held by it. You try to escape his touch but he stubbornly keeps his hand there, stroking it with a gaze you can only describe as ‘fascination’.

He watches your pulse, enthralled — and that look narrows into something else. Something you refuse to put a name to before his eyes flicker back up to yours. He chuckles, leans real close so his face takes up your entire field of vision.

“Scared, doll?”

Doll. Porcelain. Fragile. Easily manipulated and broken. You might just hate that nickname the most.

“Of—Of course I’m not,” you lie through the skin of your teeth, biting your lip to fight the strange foreboding welling in you. He’s stroking one of the most vulnerable areas of your body so gently and it fills you with a mix of apprehension and something very, very different.

“We can stop. You can ride home on that bike of yours. Word of warning, fuel’s low. Might break down on your way back,” He whispers, no, fucking purrs in your ear and holy shit, what the fuck. Your body trembles to that and of course he notices and snorts. There’s no way in hell, no way you’re gonna let this man press you against the couch and fucking terrify you one minute and arouse you the next. Hell, maybe you’re still both. The hand stroking your neck could easily crush it on its own, let alone Sylus’ evol.

Fuck, this isn’t—this wasn’t—

“You…!” You hiss, his hand goes from your neck to your collarbone, warm, big, and the feeling makes you shudder. You shake your head, almost in denial, and begin stammering.

“You’re a prick..!”

“Oh?” He hums, and the hand enveloping yours begins stroking the back of it

“And cruel. And heartless. And way too damn cocky, you really need to be humbled, and—“

You hear that gorgeous laugh right beside your ear as he leans down, face disappearing into your neck with strands of silk hair brushing your chin. Warm breath lingers, and you gulp but don’t let up.

“Someone really oughta put you in your place, knock you down a peg so you’re not so—mmm!” You can’t swallow down the gasp that leaves you when warm lips press against your pulse. His kisses trail along your neck, like a fire, and your body curls up as your free hand clings to his sweater. Fuck, feels good—and he’s nipping and sucking so sweetly you know it’ll for sure leave marks, that asshole.

“Such a noisy little kitten,” he chuckles, the noise makes you whimper and cling to him tighter, drag him to you. He pleasantly complies, presses his chest against yours and nudges his knee against your open thighs. His fingers sneak in your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck completely so all you can do is weakly complain as he makes a perfect mess of your throat. Pays special attention to suck where it makes you sputter, soothing with gentle bites, his warm tongue.

“What are you, a vampire?” You hiss, quickly dissipating into a sigh when he knows just the right place to put his lips to make your body tremble. His breath, mouth, lips, so warm, so so warm, and then his kisses are trailing up to your jaw and—

His lips hover. So close and so perfect over yours. There’s a fire in his eyes, a heat that burns in them and makes your entire body feel alight. When you open your lips and they nearly brush his, you feel your face warm and quickly turn your head away to avoid his mouth, lips trembling. You can’t even look him in the eye, fidgeting with his shirt as you purse your lips. It’s not like it’s anything special. Really—but somehow a kiss to the lips feels more embarrassing, more intimate than anything else he could do in that moment.

He laughs at your avoidance, strokes your cheek and places a kiss right where his thumb was seconds ago.

“Aren’t you cute,” he teases, and you wanna glare and refute, but your words always catch in your throat when met with those striking eyes. He turns your head to him, his mouth quirks up, and he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. Too soft and too sweet for him. It’s so uncharacteristic you can’t even think properly. Foreign, unbeknownst, yet eerily familiar.

There’s no deeper meaning behind his smirk, his lips. He’s just teasing you, getting a rise out of you, yeah, because he’s Sylus and Sylus is an asshole, always. And of course this asshole is kissing your cheeks and your nose and your forehead and you don’t know what to do but quiver in his hold, breathless and mind blank. It feels almost akin to affection but you know the words Sylus and affection can’t exist in the same sentence.

“To think this is all it takes to make you compliant…” he murmurs in your ear, and before you can finally find the words to snap at him, his lips are firm against yours. Bold. Your neck strains against the backrest as he presses deeper and gently coaxes your lips open, warm tongue brushing against yours. He tastes refined, like the wine sitting on the table, and his scent envelops you as you feel him everywhere, hands on your face and your own, body against yours, mouth on yours and the smell of expensive ass cologne — bougie Dior or some shit. You sigh and pull him closer, bite at his lip and groan into his open mouth. He openly accepts, low rumble in his throat as he pushes right back, pauses for a moment of respite before sinking in again and kissing you breathless.

His fingers wander, rough, and release your hand to catch at the hem of your shirt and caress your trembling waist. He watches you, eyes reflecting an unspoken question. It almost infuriates you how pissed you would be if he stopped at this point. You scoff and avert your gaze, lips glued shut even as you cling to his shirt unrelentingly. You hear him laugh, low, and he slowly, achingly lifts your top up and over your shoulders, ensures you’re bare from the waist up in one fell swoop.

The slight chill makes you shudder, while Sylus’s hands take this time to roam your frame. Curl against your waist and thumb at your abdomen, which makes you tense and feel a sweet tingle run down your spine. The warmth in your core, the heat between your thighs bolsters when his lips catch at your collarbone, and kiss a path down to your chest. He’s gentle, a soft pressure and warm tongue as he drags a slew of kisses to your nipple — then he catches it in his teeth and you tense with a bitten back whimper, giving his shoulder a reprimanding push. He has a nasty habit of biting. He merely laughs and spends his time there a moment longer, sucking and holding you as your hips roll against nothing, aching. His fingers dig, as though to punish you for wanting so much so soon — like he wasn’t the reason for it in the first place.

There must be something about Sylus, something about him that just makes you lose your sense of reason. Somewhere between conscious and subconscious. Because it’s almost like a tiny part of your mind — no, even deeper, some fragment of your being buried deep and away, wants to push through and melt beneath him completely. And it’s the complete antithesis to the active part of you that wants to give him a hard time and wish eventual hell on him as retribution for his sins. It’s weird—wrong, and yet you cling to him like he might disappear into stardust if you let go.

“You want me that bad, sweetie?” He murmurs against your chest, shifts down to kiss right below your sternum, and you move your hand to tug on his silver strands in retaliation. A sharp breath leaves his nose, and watching his face scrunch, slightly twist with parted lips, you feel satisfied. He’s addicting, the way his eyes look up at you, the way his lips curl and the latent hunger in his eyes.

You’re sure he wants to devour you completely.

You fear you may like it.

He does everything with intent, a purpose. He doesn’t just touch you to feel, he touches to elicit something, to receive. You jumping into his hands as they cradle you at the pinch of your waist, you throwing your head back when he teases this sensitive bit of skin just above your waistband, some incoherent murmur when he kisses at your navel. He keeps his lips there, presses his thumbs just below and the sweet tingle makes you whine, your body tense as you try to avoid looking too desperate under him.

“Not enough, hunter? Need more?” His voice is deceptively sweet as he mouths above your waistband, dips his thumbs inside. You sigh — you don’t know if it’s from his lips or his voice, and turn your head away as he watches, amused. If he wanted a verbal response, he sure as hell wasn’t getting one. But you think he knew that already. He laughs, pops open the button of your jeans, and you lift your hips as he takes his agonizing time dragging them down.

“Such an eager thing,” he soothes, kissing your temple and not so shyly pressing a hand between your legs. You hiss and your needy hips jerk into his hand, while his deep voice speaks pleasantly into your ears. “What is it? Want my fingers? My mouth?“ His hand strokes, gentle, too damn light, and you’re shamelessly rolling your hips into his touch, dragging him by the shirt and holding him close as you get off with his hand, dizzy.

“Off. Take it off already,” you grumble against him, feeling some module of defeat, but your desire damn well overrides your pride at this point. You tug at his shirt, insistent, and he chuckles before complying and lifting it well and off.

Seeing his nude body shielded only in a towel once before doesn’t make the sight any less novel. Sure, dripping wet is a whole other thing, but just the thought of this man stripping for you and you alone at your request has your mind in shambles. You let out a solid stuttered breath, and immediately lean forward with your hands drawn to his chest, like a magnet.

Fuck he’s ripped, like a statue, feels stupid perfect under your touch. You hear what sounds like a quiet, breathy noise followed by a soundless laugh. You glance up to look at his face, a subtle amused pleasure and it immediately overlaps with the dream that inhabits your mind. You want — you need— your fingers trail down, and he shudders so beautifully, like a work of art, lips parted in a breathless moan. His sculpted abs tense and tremble under your touch and suddenly you wanna do anything, everything to him.

And before your fingers can dip lower, he’s shoving you back, pinning your wrist to the couch and capturing your lips silently. The noise that leaves you is almost as embarrassing as the way your body throbs so bad your mind grows hazy. Not fair. So not fucking fair. This kiss is deep, no, rather, a myriad of kisses over and over. Slow and steady to desperate and raw, always leaving you wondering which he’ll do next. He completely swallows any noises you could make, holds you in place so he can completely dominate. It’s stupid hot and you need him so goddamn bad. You know you’re an aching mess and there’s an embarrassing wet spot staining the underwear he left on you.

“So touchy. This how you tried to tame the horse in your dream, hmm?” He groans into your mouth, handsy all over. The more he kisses you and the more his fingers make you quiver, the more your mind goes blank.

“I-It’s—“ you try to speak, but his lips envelop yours to shut you up. One moment you’re melting against the couch, the second two strong hands hook around your thighs and you gasp as you’re hoisted in the air, automatically wrapping your legs around him to steady yourself.

You try to pull away in pure shock, grab your breath and comment, but his fingers dig into your scalp and hold you as he walks with both your mouths preoccupied. You pathetically rock into his body, seeking any form of stimulation you can manage, he can give. Instead of the bedroom like you expect, he steps back and impressively rummages through his bag on the circle table with one hand, before backing you against the large glass window. It’s cold, you wince and he thumbs your cheek to soothe.

“Sylus—I—“ you paw desperately at him, body trembling as your thoughts border on blank from the way this man kisses you and the way you flutter in response. He presses a soft lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away, watching you with dark eyes, that beautiful ruby leaving you speechless. You pant, heart thundering, and clench at his shoulders for purchase. “I’m… fuck…”

“You’re adorable when you’re like this…” He says, as though it’s a regular occurrence (you suppose it will be from now on.) You gulp and try to steady your breaths and heart that just might burst, and he’s settling you down gently. His thumb tugs at the waistband, hands dipping into your underwear and against your sensitive waist before pulling them down. You try to ignore the way you’re immediately dripping when they’re off. He takes a moment to openly admire you, eyes drinking in the sight of your swollen arousal. His thumb brushes just above and the proximity makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Like this, all for me.” It’s like a praise, and your eyes zero in on the transparent bottle in his hand. So that’s what he grabbed from his bag. He uncaps the bottle and douses his fingers without reserve — eyes flickering up to you. You fight the embarrassment his shameless gaze brings you. The anticipation that makes you throb. When he’s done, he places the bottle aside and leans down to press a light kiss to your lips.

“Relax, sweetie,” he murmurs, half teasing, half… sweet? Before you can think further on it, his hand’s already found its way between your legs and you brace yourself against the window. He bends to mouth at your neck, slow and sweet, while he swirls before pressing a thick digit in. With lube, it slips in smooth, though far thicker and deeper than you’re used to. You sigh as his other hand decides to join in and tease swollen flesh, soft strokes in time with the way he slowly teases his finger in and out.

“Sylus…” you hold yourself steady around his neck, quickly adjusting to the new pressure inside you as the strokes with his other hand ease you in. You rock into his touch, needy, and he meanly moves to pin your hips to the window instead, holding you in place while you whimper from the loss of his touch. For all that you want, Sylus only ever wants to give what he allows you to have.

“So greedy. Don’t you know you shouldn’t ask for too much at once? Lucky for you, I don’t mind indulging you every once in a while,” he chuckles — which is funny, he’ll indulge you any day of the week. Hell, pampers you even. But then he’s slipping in a second finger and your words are gone before they ever had a chance to formulate.

Your hips tingle as he drags them in and out, wet. He moves back to kiss your lips, goes at them again and again like he’s unable to get enough. Sylus is a kisser, you learn. Part of you always thought kissing was deliberately off the table for him. But the way his lips move, how damn sensual he is, and the perfect way he knows to suck on your lower lip is so good you can’t imagine him being anything else. His fingers curl deep inside and you whine, a jolt of pleasure running through your already burning body. Your body naturally rides his fingers, chasing that feeling, the way he can press against your walls so good. Makes you tremble in pleasure as he whispers quiet praises against your lips on how good you’re taking his fingers. They move and stretch, relaxing you, opening you up for him, and you can’t help but wonder how Sylus fucks as you’re hazy. Does he hold you down and pump into you mean and rough? Slow and sensual? Does he like to tease, to give, or to take? All three? Quiet whimpers leave your mouth and he’s adding a third finger the same time he goes back to stroking you.

You try to be good, to keep your hips nice and still for him. You want him firmer, harder, want to feel his touch burn on your skin for days and leave you dizzy at the mere thought. The dual sensation makes your legs tremble and it takes steadying your hands on his shoulders to keep from stumbling as he thrusts and pleasures your swollen flesh in tandem.

“Sylus… I’m… I’ll…” You try to warn him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as you whine and quiver, his fingers insistent and hand skilled. He chuckles in your ear at your stumbled words, and fuck that makes you even more weak in the knees. The pleasure radiates from your hips all throughout, tingling, building so good and so quick. It almost surprises you how soon you’re desperately squeezing him and letting out quiet whispered noises as the build up finally overflows. Your body trembles, wrapped around him as you pulse around his fingers and against his hand, soothed by quiet praises while he strokes and finger-fucks you all throughout it, leaving you squirming when the feeling borders on unbearable.

He gives you reprieve, kisses your temple while you quiver in his grasp and try to steady your heart that’s thundering so hard you feel it in your throat.

“Knew you’d look just perfect like that,” he says, and you give him a weak squeeze in response. If you let go of his neck, you’re certain you’ll collapse on the spot.

Thankfully, Sylus, if anything, is perceptive. He wastes no time undoing his pants and moving his briefs just enough to release his eager erection, lined just with your abdomen. Naturally, you have to look, and shit. You figured he’d be something considering his damn size, but seeing it against your body makes you wonder if three fingers can even remotely compare. You tremble — maybe anticipation, maybe nerves, and comply when you’re lifted and pressed against the window so your jelly legs are given a break.

His lips mark up your neck beautifully — you can’t imagine what sorts of things you’ll need to wear to cover up the next week or two, and you subconsciously tense when you feel him slide himself between your legs, flesh sensitive and wet. His eyes lock onto yours, hot. Being so scrutinized when so helplessly at this man’s mercy makes your skin burn.

“Hm? What’s with that look? Want something?” Sylus meanly asks, and you hate the way your body responds to those words, throbs, and you watch him with a look of quiet, embarrassed defeat. Maybe you’ll have Sylus at your mercy one day, but today is not that day.

“Why are you so damn big…” you grumble, like you aren’t looking at him with heart eyes. That draws a throaty laugh from him and he leans close, lips settled right at the shell of your ear.

“So it can fit perfectly between those pretty legs of yours,” he says, and right then he uses a hand to steady his erection just where his fingers made you come undone, making you scoff and squeeze him tight.

“Perfectly isn’t how I’d describe your size in proportion to me,” you mumble. Perhaps feigning an attitude can help distract you from your nervous anticipation. Your body’s throbbing, begging, empty from his fingers and aching to be filled even after you just came.

“Really? Guess we’ll just have to see about that,” he whispers, light and teasing. In the same breath, you feel him slowly slide into you, arms supporting your legs as you sink onto his cock. You grip at him with a rushed moan, Sylus letting out a choked groan in response. You tremble, fight the urge to tense as you stretch around his size. Fuck — he’s so damn thick and fills you so much it aches. You whine and grasp at him with the effort to adjust, weakly murmuring curses.

“Dammit—shit, ah…” you choke and squeeze him close, burying one hand in his pale silver hair, and digging your shaky fingers into his shoulder. “S-Sylus…”

“That’s it, sweetie. Just like that. You can handle it,” he murmurs, tone so sweet for such mean actions as he pulls out and pushes in deeper, bottoming out. This position has you exactly where he needs you, makes you accept everything he has to offer. He’s so deep and you can feel him twitch inside, thick, an inferno, makes you sigh with each movement. He watches your face — this asshole, he likes seeing you whine — and let out a weak noise as he grinds, hips flush to you, before starting to thrust at a deep, slow pace. The warmth of his skin contradicts the coolness of the glass behind you, and you vaguely wonder how filthy your combined silhouettes must look in the distance.

It’s hard to explain the well of emotions inside you aside from pure lust. They blend together, a chunky, complicated mix of very degrees of pettiness, anger, mild fondness, and a deep-set longing you can’t pinpoint the origin of. Your body takes this longing and turns it into need, holding him to you, absorbing his warmth inside and out.

For a moment, you want to tilt your head and kiss him. You squeeze him harder instead.

You quiver around his length, each thrust accompanied by deep pleasure and a dull, pleasant ache. Sylus rewards your strain around his cock with his lips on yours, deep and devouring, stealing your already thin air. He guides you so easy, holds you up like it’s nothing while his steady thrusts slowly gain on speed. This position easily lets him slide against you in the perfect way that makes you cry out weakly, back arching. The pleasure is numbing and he brushes that area over and over, adamant on making you lose your sense of reason.

“Look at you. You handle me so well, sweetheart,” he speaks against your swollen lips like a dirty secret, panting against you as his thrusts hit the perfect spot every time. He handles your legs with ease and fucks into you harder, meaner, like he’s trying to bully these pathetic noises out of you. You whimper and claw at him, toes curling, feeling him swell as skin slaps against skin every time. His face is flush, eyes look at you like there’s no one else in the world — the only thing that exists is you a mess from his cock. His thrusts are as dizzying as his gaze you feel you can never escape, eyes half-lidded as he watches you take all of him. Your body’s a beacon of pleasure and your hips roll against his, rocking in time, wanting more, never enough.

“Please… please-fuck, Sylus… ngh…” You gasp, squeeze his hair tighter, and he fits his lips against your brow to murmur, “as you wish, sweetie.”

His hips are relentless, he stuffs you full of his cock every time and rolls his hips just the right way to make you sweetly numb, to fill you with that deep-set pleasure from within. His hair sticks to his brow, pants leave his body as his darkened eyes admire your sheen in sweat, rasping form. Fuck — he’s so — you need — he kisses at your neck and the sensitivity almost makes you sob.

“You’re shaking… you gonna come for me again all pretty?” Sylus breathes in your ear, you groan and clench him tight, making his hips sputter a moment. He smirks and picks back up his usual pace in response. You indeed feel your entire body quiver around him as the feeling grows more and more. Fuck you’ll — you — you can’t even say a word of warning as you’re suddenly letting out a choked sob, unable to control your tremors as you climax, body taut, tense. Sylus fucking you throughout only makes you whine and whimper as the feeling prolongs, white and hot. You’re so beautifully sensitive and rendered completely speechless, thoughtless. Sylus lets out quiet grunts all throughout, his own hips trembling, but pace unbroken.

Even when you come down Sylus doesn’t relent on his thrusts, he’s persistent if anything. At this point tears are pricking your eyes as you squeeze him tight, shame lost. “Please, please Sylus, fuck I can’t — please come,” you beg, sensitive, shaking, swollen, and Sylus laughs softly as his thrusts come in mean, hard, and fast.

“Mmm… How could I refuse such an earnest request?” He hums and holds you firm, his own forehead pressed against the window. It warms your ear and fogs the glass as his hips snap against yours, more erratic, your body bounced along with his rhythm and so damn sensitive you fight the urge to cry. Quiet grunts leave him, he’s more vocal, more open, and his large hands squeeze your thighs as he gasp and twitches. He buries deep and spills, releasing a pleasant groan right into your hot ear. He’s so close, feels so alive under your fingers and inside you, his heart an impossibly fast rhythm that puts yours to shame. You feel every throb, and you moan weakly as you��re held up, body swallowing every last drop. When he pulls out of your swollen hole, you feel the strength leave you and his cum drip down filthily.

“There you are, sweetie. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he soothes, and holds your weak body up with the same ease he had the first time despite the time elapsed. This kindness feels as wrong from him as it does right. When you weakly rest your head on his shoulder to look at him, his sweet eyes return the gaze, appeased. He carries your limp body to the couch and settles you down gently, swiping a thumb across your slick forehead. “You had quite the workout,” he comments. You glare and push his shoulder away, earning a chuckle.

“Aw, don’t pout.”

“Next time…” you hiss, holding a finger up to him. ‘Next time’ implying this will be regular. ‘Next time’ implying Sylus is not only the fearsome Onychinus leader you’ve been made to deal with, but is now a man you fuck (and something… more?) on top of it. “You’ll be the one at my mercy.”

Sylus blinks, tongue lax as he observes you in mild surprise.

Then, his face melts into a soft grin.

You’ve seen so many new expressions from Sylus today, it’s like you’re meeting him again for the first time. He grabs your hand and gently interlocks your fingers, watching you with a look you can only describe as ‘affectionate’.

It makes your face burn.

He adjusts his hand so he’s grasping your palm, and he drags yours to his lips, dropping a soft kiss on your fingertips.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

[nanamis-bigtie]

Out of Words

Character: Nanami Kento Reader: afab (aka reader with a vagina; ambiguous body descriptions, neutral words used regarding genitalia with an exception for word “cunt”) CW: explicit nsfw content, PWP, one shot, established relationship, plus size reader, vaginal sex Word Count: 1k Synopsis: Just Nanami asking his plus size partner to ride him. And being in awe. Based on prompt 13 from this list. A/N: The original version got deleted because I have quite...complicated relationship with this text. But encouraged by my partner I eventually decided to put it back into the wild. So, enjoy! maybe for the second time if you already saw it aklskljjhd jjk masterlist // ao3 version

"Ride me."

It slips past Nanami's lips almost unwittingly, like a voice speaking straight from the depths of his subconsciousness. The rhythm breaks: the both of you are utterly confused in the best, most excited way possible, almost frozen in place for a few, heavy seconds. 

He releases your wrists, suddenly realizing he held them so hard there will be bruises shaped like his fingers, then shifts his body to the side, pulling yours with himself. You squeeze thighs around his hips for leverage and balance, and he can't help letting out a little, breathy groan of appreciation. He loves the softness, the rolls forming on them flush to his body, the yet tentative moves as you're looking for the most comfortable position for your knees. It's just the beginning and he's already entranced by the feel and views.

From comfortably nestled in pillows, your legs wide open to fit his wide body in between, you're above him now, in your wonderful glory, in power and control over him. As you ease into the new situation, your weight gradually presses close to his hips until you settle on the angle you like. Nanami clenches teeth, an inch away from successfully catching a moan; he's much deeper in your now, squeezed tight by your slick, hot walls, and sentenced to obediently awaiting your moves. 

The fear of accidentally hurting you, prior stirred by your wrists, fades now. He grabs your hips with all he's got for your—not to hurry you up nor to pull you closer, but to feel you, to sink his fingers into your softness and to feed his eyes with the dip of your silhouette around them. 

You shift on him for the last time, balance grabbed and checked, and lean slightly to the back, your eyes closed as you sink into the sensation. You start slowly, almost too slow for the both of you, either shy or testing the new waters. Nanami holds his breath back, irrationally worried a draft of air might interrupt you; his nails scratch deep at your skin, vertical lines right next to your stretch marks. He's going to kiss them with care later, insatiably sipping on your warmth, but now nothing can peel his attention away from desiring you. He's addicted to the sway of your hips, to the bouncing rhythm you soon pick up, to the flow of your body on top of him. 

Nanami can't possibly grow tired of the sight of you in your naked glory. Since the day he's been graced with it for the first time he only grows more and more hungry. He loves every inch of it, whether you love it yourself or not, and usually doesn't shy from praising and adoring it—but now, with you bouncing on his cock, something keeps his words in check. Everything he feels like saying seems inappropriate, too simple and too vulgar. All he can do is to stare, eyes wide open in wonder, lips heavy of breath, and hands full of your curves. He lets them wander at times, to knead your ass or to support you at the waist, but every time the sensation grows too strong to handle, and he returns to your hips in hurry. It can't end like this, not now, when he's still starved, when he knows you can still show him more. 

A rumble of your name follows an especially bold move of yours, and Nanami claws at your thighs with desperation. You've caught him off-guard this time, with his hands out of control when you suddenly clenched hard on him, squeezing him deep in your hot slick. He has to close eyes, to spare himself at least the delicious views, but the feeling is right there—your tight cunt, your big and soft ass, your thighs tensing under his fingertips and pressing flush to his sides.

"Fuck—" He desperately tries to keep his hips in check, fights with each desperate attempt to jerk up, fails. "Holy shit—"

He's ready to beg you to slow down and show him mercy, equally ashamed of himself and turned on by the thought alone. You coo something about him squirming and twitching but he can't quite tell words from the stream of your voice. Blindly, he reaches up, hands stopping before they can reach your middle and pawing at your soft tummy. Again, you speak to him, but he's deaf in his pleasure, maybe if he opened his eyes—

He can't open them. If he does, it's the end. If he sees you, messy, disheveled, tired and so beautiful, he won't be able to last any longer. If he takes one more peek of your body bouncing on top of him, of you using him to your pleasure—

"Kento—" You beg him first, your voice drenched with ecstasy and breaking.

Nanami can't resist such a melody. He snaps his eyes open as if under a spell.

Your name dies between slurred whimpers when his hold tightens, clawing its way into your skin, and Nanami, early, way too early, caves in to pleasure. Eyes plastered to your bouncing tum and his hands sinking in it, now determined to not miss anything if it's bound to happen anyway, he joins the stuttering rhythm of your hips, just on time to push you into orgasm. A few thrusts later, stirred by the tight spasming of your cunt, he follows suit with a loud, the loudest this night, groan. 

For a moment, reality around slurs too, and when he regains control over his senses, Nanami finds you in his arms, nestled on top of him, sweaty and breathing heavy. He runs hand up and down your back, smiling at the feel of rolls and softness underneath. 

Your body presses his tight—and yet again Nanami reasserts himself his life truly wouldn't be the same if cruel fate ever took this blessed feeling away from him.

"One more time?" He whispers, lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I'm not quite full of you yet, my love."

[brusquette]

I don't understand how people are posting things that are so plainly conspiratorial.

I came into this space largely because the needle moved so far in trans issues that even the nomenclature TRAs originally invented, sex vs gender, female vs woman, was considered offensive to the same crowd. I came into it because I saw that 'transwomen' as I got to know more and more of them still exhibited all of the problems of men. I came into it because even extremely delicately saying so and so *may* retain some misogyny from male socialization was enough for a ban hammer, in an era where to be a trans woman you don't even need to take HRT or cross dress and there are 'butch lesbians' who present entirely male that we can't say have male privileges or experienced male socialization.

But mostly the thing is people who were reasonable, and could see these things but still accepted trans individuals...started to not be able to see these things and trust the word 'TERF' as an immediate shout down they didn't want to be associated with.

It is a shame to see that same thing happen in this space but with women doggedly he/himing someone who was raised their entire life as a girl, who if they have committed a wrong has only done so by continuing to take advantage of an unfair advantage they have but whose birth defects are not inherently worthy of shame or derision. And in doing so these people are actually reinforcing many of the harmful myths perpetuated by trans rights activists about body parts and puberty of DSD individuals.