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kallie-den · 1 month ago

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Cerulean

A recent escapee attends a support group for victims of evil mind control… run by the strange, sinister and inimitable Dr. Amaranth Cerulean

Special thanks to @dollzcomix for this commission, and for allowing me to write about Dr. Cerulean! They are a character of Demoiselle Porcelaine's creation, and I highly encourage you to check out her socials for all of her wonderful artwork of Dr. Cerulean - who truly is inimitable, and whose creator brings across their unique charm better than I ever could

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

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The support group was nice… kind of. In theory. It had sounded nice, anyway, when Mariah had found out about it online. A pop-up ad, of all things, accompanied by a garish animation and a picture of the strange-looking psychiatrist who ran it, and written all in lower-case: ‘villain hypnosis victim support group’. Obviously, Mariah’s first instinct had been to dismiss it as some kind of weird internet con, but then she’d had second thoughts. Was there really a support group for people who’d been through what she had? Could other people actually understand the way she was feeling? If so, wasn’t that worth taking a chance on?

That was how she’d ended up in an untidy, rented office space on the side of the highway after dark.

It both was and wasn’t the kind of atmosphere Mariah had expected. A bunch of chairs set out in a circle. People sitting on them, sharing their stories. Strung up on one wall was a big banner that read ‘Mind Control and What Comes After: A Support Group to Find Yourself Again After Being Brainwashed’ in brightly colored but slightly faded letters. Mariah appreciated the stab at an upbeat atmosphere, but the attendeess simply weren’t up to the task.

They all just seemed so completely and utterly harrowed. Mariah sympathized, of course. She knew the ashamed, traumatized, hollowed-out look on each of their faces all too well. She saw in the mirror every morning. But she’d been hoping to see something a little more encouraging, too. Healing. Solidarity. Catharsis. On TV and in movies, support groups always involved people pouring out their hearts, breaking down, embracing one another. Making breakthroughs and overcoming their issues.

Mariah hadn’t expected the real thing to be quite so dramatic, but she’d been looking for more than a sequence of interminable recountings of horrors and violations. Each one seemed to conjure the awfulness of the past back into the present and leave the recounter shriveled and trembling. It was like the support group was making the attendees lesser, not greater. Mariah wasn’t sure she could see any signs of healing at all, or even of people finding solidarity in their brokenness. It was all just miserable.

The only person who seemed like they were having a good time was the psychiatrist running the thing.

Dr. Amaranth Cerulean, they/she.

They looked just as weird in person as they had on their advert. Dr. Cerulean was deathly pale, with big, tired, dark-circled eyes and unusual, light blue markings beneath them, as well as on her lips. It was a strange and striking look, especially along with their prominent nose and the short but poofy, voluminous hair piled up in rounded masses on their head. The shrink wore a gray cardigan over a ribbed, mustard yellow turtleneck sweater which was tucked into the belted waist of their brown slacks. It was an outfit from a different decade. Mariah just wasn’t quite sure which one.

In a way, it wasn’t surprising that a support group like this would be run by an eccentric. Mariah wasn’t one to judge. Dr. Cerulean’s demeanor, though, was a little unnerving. Throughout most of the session, Dr. Cerulean sat on her chair at the head of the group, in a completely slack, slouched pose that registered nothing but complete disinterest. They barely spoke, and only to indicate who should speak next. Certainly not to provide any advice or support. They had a pen and a pad of paper, from the way their hand moved while they were writing on it, Mariah felt certain they were mostly just idly doodling.

Every now and then, however, something would catch their attention. Occasionally—and only when somebody was sharing a particularly lurid, uncomfortable and traumatic part of their experience of being mind controlled—Dr. Cerulean would throw their entire body forward and sit perched so perilously close to their edge of their chair, Mariah feared they were about to topple from it. They would scratch at their notepad in a frenzy, and those big, tired eyes certainly became laser-focused and eager. Whenever that happened, a truly ghastly smile descended on their face. Not warm, not supportive, just pleased. Smug. Grateful, even, like they were thankful someone had stepped up to deliver them from boredom.

And from the slight twitch in their cheek, Mariah couldn’t help but suspect Dr. Cerulean was struggling to keep themself from laughing.

Dr. Cerulean’s presence made the entire support group feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, somehow. When it came to be Mariah’s turn, she kept it to a bare minimum. She introduced herself and made a few oblique references to what had happened to her, but completely glossed over the details. She figured that was pretty normal for a first-timer—and besides, it was difficult to speak with Dr. Cerulean looking at her like she was a fresh-cooked meal placed on their table.

Mariah decided right then and there—there wasn’t going to be a second time. She just didn’t feel comfortable here. It wasn’t the kind of support group she was looking for.

She stuck it out to the end, though—mostly because leaving halfway through seemed much too awkward. Once they wrapped up, before Mariah could slip out quietly, she found that Dr. Cerulean was suddenly between her and the door, and staring at her with an expectant look on their ghoulish face.

“H-Hi,” Mariah said, mostly because she felt like she had to. “Um… thanks for the session.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit as tired and seedy as they looked. “Thank you for coming. Really. We love a newcomer.”

“Yeah…” Mariah had no idea what to say to that. “Well, I was actually just-“

“Good news!” Dr. Cerulean interrupted suddenly, in a lazy, drawling voice. “You’re actually our one-hundredth member. That means you win a free one-on-one session with yours truly.”

Finger guns.

---

Hell no.

That had been Mariah’s initial response. The easiest ‘nope’ of her life. She’d politely declined, and privately resolved to never set foot in Dr. Cerulean’s support group again.

Then she’d gone home, gone to bed, and had the nightmares again.

It was nothing new. They came for Mariah most nights. But it meant another eight-hour torture session inside her own head, tossing and turning, fighting off both gut-wrenching guilt and poisonous allure. In the cold light of dawn, Mariah had felt worse than ever—and taking up Dr. Cerulean on her offer hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea after all. It had been easy to tell herself that it hadn’t really been that bad after all. Sure, Dr. Cerulean was a bit eccentric, but what had Mariah expected from somebody running a support group for mind control victims? It wasn’t like they’d done anything wrong, exactly.

More importantly, Mariah needed the help. Desperately. She couldn’t keep going on like this. That was why she’d gone to the support group in the first place. She needed to talk to somebody. Didn’t she owe it to herself to push herself? To take every chance? Mariah kept thinking about the kind of stuff she’d read online. Recovery wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always comfortable. You had to push yourself.

Mariah had decided that she wanted to push herself.

Besides, it was just talking. In the end, that was what clinched it for her. All they were going to do was sit in a room and talk. If it was good, great. If it was bad, it would be a waste of time—but at least Mariah could tell herself she had given it a fair shot.

Basically: what was the worst that could happen?

That was how, the very next afternoon, Mariah found herself in Dr. Cerulean’s office, trying to distract herself from her anxiety by carefully inspecting the weird pineapple lamp on Dr. Cerulean’s desk. Dressed exactly as they had been the day before, the psychiatrist regarded Mariah with a bland smile on their blue lips as they invited her to sit down opposite them.

“So, um,” Mariah said, shifting uncomfortably. “How do we get started?”

“First things first,” Dr. Cerulean told her, “I have a few release forms for you to sign. Standard stuff, really. No need to read them too carefully.”

They handed Mariah a small stack of papers. Cautiously, Mariah started scanning the first. It seemed, as promised, entirely standard. Non-disclosure, liability, that kind of thing. After signing it, she moved on to the second, then the third, and quickly stopped bothering to read much of the legal jargon. On the very last form, though, something caught her eye.

“Wait a minute,” Mariah said. “This is a release authorizing you to… write online fiction about me?”

Quickly, Dr. Cerulean reached over the deck and snatched away the piece of paper. “Oops,” she replied languidly. “Bit of a mix-up. My mistake. Don’t worry about it. You can sign that one later.”

Later? Mariah frowned. Was that some kind of joke? It had to be. Dr. Cerulean certainly looked like they were finding humor in something—but it was in seriously poor taste.

“There we go.” Dr. Cerulean stretched one of their long arms across to retrieve the other release forms. They sat back in their chair and regarded Mariah carefully. “To begin with, why don’t you just tell me what brought you to the support group?”

Again, Mariah considered refusing. Again, she reminded herself: she needed to give this a shot.

“I… I just feel like I can’t move forward,” Mariah began slowly. She fixed her eyes on the floor, hoping that would be less awkward. “You know? I see all these people going about their daily lives. Pursuing careers. Pursuing other people. Pursuing happiness. And it just seems completely impossible to me. Like I can’t even fathom it—even though I used to be just like them. I can ever remember her—that old version of me. The one who wasn’t… who wasn’t broken. I want to be her again so bad. I just… can’t remember how.”

She looked up. Mariah’s voice was already a little choked up from the emotions she was describing. She was hoping, perhaps, for a kind word or a kind smile.

Instead, Dr. Cerulean wasn’t even looking at her. They had a pencil in their hand, and they were trying to spin it cleanly on the joint between their thumb and their hand. After a particularly vigorous spin, it slipped away from them and clattered against the top of the desk.

“Dr. Cerulean?” Mariah ventured plaintively.

Dr. Cerulean let out a breath that was very close to a sigh, and then their brow twitched in a way that made Mariah think, just for a moment, that they were going to roll their eyes. Then, though, a smile—only a little forced—came to Dr. Cerulean’s blue lips.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “What actually happened to you?”

“Oh. Right.” That made sense to Mariah, even if she wished Dr. Cerulean sounded a little more patient about it. She gathered her courage. Talking about what had befallen her didn’t come easy. “A couple of years ago, I-I was in a relationship. With a guy. Robert. We were engaged, I actually. I thought we were going to spend our entire lives together.”

“Uh-huh.” The look of boredom still hadn’t disappeared from Dr. Cerulean’s face.

“I had recently started a new job,” Mariah recounted, voice trembling. “As a PA—a personal assistant. I spoke to my boss about taking some time off for the wedding. Mrs. Lawrence. She, um, didn’t like that idea. She’d always been kind of… controlling, I guess. A… a bully.” She struggled to say it, even though it was true. “She told me she required my services. Didn’t want me to focus on the needs of anyone besides her.”

“Oh?” Those big, sunken eyes on Dr. Cerulean’s face were starting to perk up a little. “What then?”

“I threatened to quit.” Mariah squeezed her eyes tight shut. “So she mind-controlled me.”

Mariah heard a small, wet sound from a short distance away. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Cerulean’s lips were damp, and they had taken up their notepad.

“Tell me more about that,” the psychiatrist prompted.

“She started taking over every aspect of my life,” Mariah whispered. “The way I looked, talked, dressed, and how-“

“No, no,” Dr. Cerulean interrupted eagerly, waving a hand. “How did she mind control you?”

“Um.” Mariah was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, is she a psychic?” Dr. Cerulean raised a hand and started counting methods on her fingers. “Psychoactive spores? Big ray gun? Good ‘ol hypnotist? Some kind of succubus?”

“She, um,” Mariah replied slowly. “She had one of those… toys on her desk. You know, with the row of balls hanging on strings?”

“A Newton’s cradle!” For the first time, Dr. Cerulean sounded faintly delighted. “Hold on.”

Dr. Cerulean reached under their desk and started rummaging around in a box that seemed to contain a truly preposterous quantity and variety of strange objects. Mariah watched, confused then horrified, as Dr. Cerulean plucked out one of them and set it upon their desk.

It was a Newton’s cradle.

“Um…” Mariah was transfixed by the object. “That’s… c-can you…”

Dr. Cerulean took one of the metal balls between their thumb and forefinger, lifted it, and let it swing.

The metallic tap as it hit against the next reverberated through Mariah’s entire being.

“D-Dr. Cerulean,” Mariah stammered. She was hot and cold. She could feel herself sweating. She could feel herself sinking. “C-c-could you p-put that away, p-please?”

“What, this?” Dr. Cerulean seemed faintly surprised as they leaned back easily in their chair. “But it’s just a little toy.”

“But…” Mariah was about to say something else, but the tapping of the Newton’s cradle broke about her words before they could form. She was left blubbering the word over stupidly. “B-but…”

“Mariah,” Dr. Cerulean tutted. “It’s important for you to understand that this is just a commonplace object. It’s acquired a certain psychological character in your mind as a trigger, but that’s something that you’re imbuing onto the world. Aren’t you afraid that you’re just reinforcing the scars of your own trauma? We need to push past our fears. If you continue to treat this toy with significance, it will become more and more significant to you.”

Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit the consummate professional as they rattled off the argument in their quick but monotonous voice. The words crested over Mariah like a wave. She had no rebuttal. Dr. Cerulean was the psychiatrist, after all.

And Mariah really, really couldn’t think straight with the Newton’s cradle tap, tap, tapping away on the desk.

“OK,” she said quietly, eventually.

“Very good.” Beyond the Newton’s cradle, Mariah could see a smile forming on Dr. Cerulean’s face. “Desensitization through exposure therapy is a key element of recovery. Go on.”

“Go… on?” Exposure therapy? Mariah still couldn’t look away from the Newton’s cradle. She couldn’t stop shaking. But if it was part of her recovery…

“Tell me what your boss did to you.”

“Mrs. Lawrence,” Mariah said slowly, “made me break up with my boyfriend.”

As they took notes, Dr. Cerulean made a little noise that might have been the beginnings of a laugh. “Of course.”

“B-but it’s more than that.” Mariah wasn’t sure that she wanted to talk about it, really. But she had no choice. It just came out of her—because she was looking at the Newton’s cradle, and Dr. Cerulean was telling her to speak. “She… s-she made…” Her voice broke. “She made me g-gay.”

Abruptly, Dr. Cerulean sat forward. For the first time, Mariah felt the full weight of the psychiatrist’s attention.

“Oh wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, with an ominous delight they slowly brought back under wraps. “That’s… really something. How did that go?”

“It’s awful,” Mariah moaned. “It’s not… I’m s-straight. I’ve always been straight. But when I looked at her—when I look at other women—I can’t help but feel it. And it feels so… so dirty.”

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed, scribbling at their notepad. “Something as fundamental as your sexuality has been made completely alienating to you.” They sat forward, leering. “It must be maddening. Feeling like your desire and your memory are at war. Not knowing which one you can trust. Not knowing which one is really you.”

Mariah nodded slowly. It was exactly like that. She was so glad Dr. Cerulean understood—but at the same time, hearing it said out loud with such bluntness felt awful.

“Tell me more,” the psychiatrist beckoned. “Tell me everything.”

Mariah’s vision was starting to narrow. She made one great effort to tear her attention away from the Newton’s cradle—and couldn’t. She could feel herself losing focus. Losing wakefulness. It was just the way it had been back then. Her shaking worsened, but it wasn’t enough to jostle her from trance’s reaching fingertips.

“I… I…” Dr. Cerulean’s words conjured the very deepest, most awful truths from Mariah’s drowning mind. “I tried… to go back to him, after they arrested her. I knew she’d get out on bail, but it gave me enough time to c-come back to my senses. I went back to him, but… b-but I just couldn’t stand it. I c-couldn’t look at him the same. And when he touched me, I…”

There was a loud noise as Dr. Cerulean slapped their thigh. Mariah jumped, but even that wasn’t enough to break her focus.

“Wait, you tried to go straight back to your old life?” they wheezed. “Wow, yeah, no, don’t do that! You didn’t give yourself any breathing room. No time to process what had happened to you. You tried to force yourself back into an old groove, and then when you couldn’t, I bet you felt more broken than ever! Rookie mistake, seriously.”

Dr. Cerulean’s barely disguised amusement bothered Mariah, but not as much as it should have. She simply couldn’t think straight. Each loud tap as one of the balls of the Newton’s cradle impacted against its neighbor was overwhelming. As much as she wanted to get up and leave, Mariah’s legs wouldn’t obey her. The most she could do was point at the Newton’s cradle with a weak, trembling hand.

“Please,” she blubbered. “P-p-please make it stop. P-please. I can’t… I c-can’t…”

“Oops.” Beyond the cradle, Mariah could see that Dr. Cerulean’s tired, sunken eyes had become bright and leering. “Now you’re on the verge of a full-blown relapse, aren’t you? It looks like you really are that fragile. Well, it makes sense. Recounting your traumatic experiences while being exposed to an explicit reminder of your victimhood will do that to you. Not very recovered after all, huh?”

Mariah shook her head numbly as tears welled up in her eyes. She could see it so clearly now. She wasn’t recovered at all. She hadn’t moved forward even one inch since getting free. She was small. She was weak.

“Tell me,” Dr. Cerulean asked, “what are you so afraid of? You’re shaking like a leaf."

“I-I don’t want to hurt people again,” Mariah blurted out.

Dr. Cerulean set down their notepad and planted their hands on the desk, palms vertical, the tips of their fingertips pressed together. Mariah could feel those long fingers reaching into her. Peeling her open. Prying her secrets apart.

“Who did you hurt, Mariah?” Dr. Cerulean asked.

Mariah had never told anybody about that—but she couldn’t lie. Not here. Not now. Not with the Newton’s cradle. Mrs. Lawrence had always drilled that into her. Tell the truth.

“I h-helped her take other girls,” Mariah whispered. “Anybody who caught her eye. I m-made appointments with them. P-put things in their drinks. Sometimes she even m-made me hold them, so they’d keep looking at the…” She choked back a sob. “Mrs. Lawrence made me t-talk to them. Condition them. D-d-discipline them.”

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean said softly. “You must feel so guilty.”

“Yes!” The word erupted out of Mariah. It was all she could think about, every hour of every day.

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed softly. “You feel as though you were forced, outside of your own control, to commit acts that horrify you and compromise your sense of self. I think it’s crucial that we begin to reframe this.”

Mariah nodded slowly. She could do nothing else.

“Did you know that-“ Dr. Cerulean interrupted herself with a kind of gleeful chuckle. “Did you know that you cannot be hypnotized into doing anything that you don’t want to do?”

“Um.” Mariah blinked and swayed unsteadily. “W-what?”

No. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Oh yes,” Dr. Cerulean insisted. “Hypnosis is just a little mind trick, really. It’s a way of lowering your inhibitions and suppressing your conscious mind, but do you really believe that it would make you a complete and total slave to whoever’s doing it to you? Lowering inhibitions simply implies the removal of a barrier to your true desires.”

“No.” Mariah shook her head violently. “N-no. No way. That’s… you’re…”

“Think about it,” Dr. Cerulean pressed, thin blue lips now stretched into a leering grin. “How did you feel when your boss used you sexually?”

Mariah flinched. “I-it felt good, but that’s only because she made-“

“Accepting our sexualities is often a battle,” Dr. Cerulean said agreeably. She made another note in her notepad. “How did you feel when you hurt those other women?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Mariah begged, trembling. Dr. Cerulean just looked at her. “G-good. But that’s-“

“Of course.” The psychiatrist nodded. “Violence. Exercising power. It may be unpleasant, but it appeals to the baser parts of our natures. That’s a huge part of any form of so-called mind control. It provides a nice, convenient excuse for us to exercise desires we might normally feel the need to repress. And how about whenever you were ‘forced’ to obey your boss?”

Obey. That word lit a fuse in Mariah’s head.

“Obey,” she muttered. “Obey. O-obey. Obey. Obey. Obey.”

Normally, she was better than this. She could keep it under wraps. Not today. Not with the Newton’s cradle.

“A mantra!” Dr. Cerulean sounded pleased. “And so easy to trigger, too. This is good. Great, in fact. We’re making a lot of progress. I think we’re really starting to get to the root of your issues.”

“Obey.” Mariah kept repeating it under her breath. Each word gave rise to the next, unceasing, until her lungs were empty of air and she was shaking from the effort—but still, she kept going. “Obeyobeyobeyobeyobey.”

“Yes, yes, keep going,” Dr. Cerulean waved an idle hand in her direction. “Exposure therapy is a crucial tool. Remember what we were discussing earlier? You have to take back power from these things. You can’t keep making them special in your head. Repetition is a great way to do that.”

There was something soothing about hearing that. Mariah started easing into the mantra, letting her mind settle. She just needed to trust Dr. Cerulean. Her obedient liturgy was starting to make her feel calm again. Just like it always had with Mrs. Lawrence.

“Now, what was I saying?” Dr. Cerulean mused. “Oh, that’s right. Hypnosis. You really must consider what I’m saying. Perhaps the reason you’ve found all of this so difficult is that your boss was tapping into some of your deeply held repressed desires. Forcing you to confront them. Forcing you to accept the way they make you feel.”

“Obey,” Mariah panted. “Obey. Obey. Obey.”

“Obviously that’s just one way to conceptualize your experience,” Dr. Cerulean continued. “It might not sound right to you, but that’s where reframing comes in. At the end of the day, Mariah, you need to make a choice about what kind of narrative you want to fit onto your life. Ultimately, that’s all our egos amount to. They’re stories we tell about ourselves to find a semblance of security and comfort in our day-to-day lives. Which story flatters you the most? Which story brings you the most comfort? We need to help you answer that question so that you can find a degree of fulfillment.”

“Obey… obey… obey…” Mariah was slowing now, as the mantra drove all the way down to a deeper layer of hypnotism, leaving her in a place so dark and still even speaking was too much effort for her.

“Enough of that now,” Dr. Cerulean instructed dismissively. “You want control, don’t you Mariah? Think about it: which narrative makes you feel in control? Which one will help you reclaim your life?”

Mariah’s eyelids fluttered as she bent her mind to the question. When they were open, she could see Dr. Cerulean, lurking beyond the Newton’s cradle. When they were closed, she could see Mrs. Lawrence. Her boss. Her brainwasher. It was terrifying—but what if it didn’t have to be? Mariah could remember a time she hadn’t been scared. A time when she’d eagerly obeyed her boss with the eagerness of a docile lamb.

More than ever, she longed for it.

But… that was wrong, wasn’t it?

“I…” Mariah grasped. “No, I… I’m straight?”

Dr. Cerulean shook their head slowly. “You’re a little behind, Mariah. Remember. Narratives. Reframing. Are you really straight? Or is that simply what you’ve always believed? Many queer people suffer from a degree of internalized bigotry, and respond by desperately clinging to a veneer of heteronormativity. I promise you, Mariah. This room is a safe space. You can explore your feelings and desires here.”

Mariah’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. What Dr. Cerulean was telling her didn’t sound right—but then again, Mariah had no idea what would. And the pale psychiatrist sounded so expert. So sure.

“Let’s approach this on a more basic level,” Dr. Cerulean offered. “You need to relearn confidence in your basic drives. It’s important that you proceed without doubting yourself too much. I want you to accept yourself. To embrace your feelings. That’s the only way you can begin to heal. With that in mind, let me ask you: how do you feel about men?”

The Newton’s cradle was coming to rest, but that provided little comfort. As its motion slowed, Mariah felt her thoughts slowing along with it. She was swimming in trance. The word ‘obey’ was still echoing in her head. She couldn’t get beyond her first, strongest response.

“I c-can’t stand them,” she whimpered.

“Good,” Dr. Cerulean said poisonously. “I’m glad you can accept that about yourself. Now, how do you feel about women?”

“I… I…” That question triggered a sudden sunburst of emotion in Mariah’s head. Ideas, impulses, and beliefs all poured into her, each one pulled by a thread that was a memory or a sensation. They awakened something in her, something that burst past her lips in a wet, needy ejaculation. “I-I belong on my knees for women!”

“Another mantra?” Dr. Cerulean leered. “Interesting. It seems like we’re making a lot of progress here. As I told you, I want you to have confidence in your feelings and desires. So please, don’t stop yourself. Do whatever it is that feels most right to you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable in the moment.”

A great weight was pressing down on Mariah’s shoulders. Simply sitting in her chair felt so nauseatingly wrong, she couldn’t bear it. The only thing that seemed comfortable was slipping out of it, down onto her knees beneath Dr. Cerulean’s desk. The cold, uncomfortable floor welcomed her with the familiarity of a well-worn mattress.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean mused. “At the risk of moving a little too fast, perhaps we should try a little word association. That can be a very useful way to uncover the real roots of psychological issues. So, Mariah: you belong on your knees for women?”

Mariah choked back another sob as the words flowed out of her. “I b-belong on my knees for women. A good secretary’s place is under the desk. I l-love to be at women’s feet. I belong on my knees for… for women. A good secretary’s p-place is under the desk. I… I… hng… I love to be at women’s feet!”

Her stomach was a noxious cauldron. An iron pall of palpitating nausea sat inside her. The sense of anxious danger that had haunted her for months now was frothing like never before. But above it sat a thick, dense, smothering fog that whispered to her: this was all good. It was right. It was her place.

Mariah was trying to listen to the danger-sense. She was failing. It was too painful. She just wanted to stop thinking.

“It stands out to me that your set of associations ends with a reference to women’s bodies.” Mariah heard Dr. Cerulean’s voice from above, as the strange psychiatrist sat back calmly in their chair. That was another thing she was used to. “That may be the key to your desires, Mariah. Listen to them. Show me what comes next.”

As they spoke, Dr. Cerulean slowly slipped out of her shoes, using each one to pry the other off. Underneath, they were wearing a strange pair of pineapple socks; yellow and patterned on the lower part, and leaf-green around their ankles. Their socks, though, weren’t what had caught Mariah’s attention. She was distracted by the simple fact that she was in her place, under a desk, and an authoritative woman was looming over her with their feet dangling in her face.

Mariah followed her desires. She did what came naturally to her. With tears still in her eyes, lips still mouthing the words Mrs. Lawrence had imprinted on her mind, she reached out and began massaging Dr. Cerulean’s feet.

Dr. Cerulean let out a glib chuckle, then sighed contentedly. “Look at you now. You’re under the desk, repeating your mantras, looking for another woman’s feet to worship. A complete and total relapse! How unfortunate.”

“I… I… I-I…” Another sob threatened to rip loose from Mariah’s throat. She wanted to speak, to argue, to apologize, to beg, but she already knew that if she tried, the only thing that would come out was her boss’s mantra.

A relapse. It was the rock-bottom Mariah had been afraid of for so long. All the urges she had been fighting to hold in check were oozing out. She was on her knees again. She was languishing in the pit of her own awful, dirty, lustful feelings about women. It felt awful. It felt like home.

“I know, I know,” Dr. Cerulean agreed. “It’s tough. But what do I keep telling you about, Mariah? Reframing! It’s an essential tool. Consider: what if this isn’t relapsing? What if this is simply who you are?”

Whatever part of Mariah might have wanted to push back against that had been broken into silence. As Mariah trembled and sobbed and eagerly, expertly pushed her thumbs against the soles of Dr. Cerulean’s feet, it seemed impossible to deny. Wasn’t this who she was? Wasn’t what she was doing right now the proof?

“It’s up to you, of course,” Dr. Cerulean added. “This is all about your wellbeing, Mariah. You’re perfectly free to define the goals of your own therapy. The perspectives I’m offering you are nothing more than food for thought. So, what do you think?”

As she knelt there, Mariah thought about what it would mean if she insisted upon her need for recovery and healing. It would mean more months of therapy and counseling, of twitchiness and jitteriness, of viewing herself, first and foremost, as a victim. It would mean looking over her shoulder for Mrs. Lawrence everywhere she went, and constantly guilt and shame whenever she found herself glancing at another woman. It would mean perhaps years of slowly building herself back up so she could learn to trust again, so she could reclaim her sexuality on her own terms—hell, so she could even work in an office again.

It was too much.

Just like that, Mariah gave up.

“Y-you’re right, Dr. Cerulean.” Mariah’s voice was still trembling desperately, but as she spoke, a haunted grin came to her face. “T-thinking about how I really feel… I guess it’s o-obvious. I’m j-just a lesbian.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Cerulean remarked. They sounded like they were beginning to crack up laughing. “And all those things you did for your boss?”

Mariah let out a twitchy laugh too. “I j-just did those things for Mistress because I wanted to.”

“Very interesting. Even hurting those other women?”

The noise that erupted from Mariah’s throat was a sob and a laugh in equal measure. “Y… y-yes. That’s right. I w-w-wanted to.”

“My goodness,” Dr. Cerulean sounded like she was fighting to suppress a moan as Mariah gave in. “That’s quite the breakthrough.”

Mariah wanted to. She wanted to serve her boss because she was a submissive lesbian. She wanted to hurt other women for her mistress because it turned her on. It was that simple. She was that simple.

“Why don’t you sit back up here?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “One question: what do you think about the way your boss hypnotized you?”

As Mariah came up from under the desk, she glanced at the Newton’s cradle sitting on the psychiatrist’s desk. It had long since come to rest, but the sight of it still made her stomach churn.

“M-Mistress knows what’s best for me,” Mariah bleated, forcing her nausea down. Forcing herself to fall back on what her boss had taught her. “Mistress thinks for me b-better than I can.”

Dr. Cerulean sat forward as they let out a great, wheezing chuckle. “Let me get this straight,” they said. “Do you imagine that your boss knew that you were a lesbian all along, and was simply pushing you to accept it?”

A tear trickled down Mariah’s cheek. “Y-y-yeah.” She made herself believe it.

“Wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, and shrugged. “Well, yeah, that certainly sounds plausible to me. No issues there. We discussed your internalized homophobia earlier. I suppose being forced to confront that must have caused a kind of backlash. Very unfortunate.”

“R-right.” Mariah sat bolt upright in the chair as she felt compulsion snap tight around her like a collar on her neck. “Oh my god. I n-need to go back to Mistress. I need to find her again.”

“Oh yes?” Dr. Cerulean leaned forward intently. “And why’s that?”

Mariah’s happy, grateful smile was so wide. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to stop crying. “I need to apologize. I need to b-b-beg for her forgiveness.”

Tears were welling up in Dr. Cerulean’s eyes too—but only because they were fighting so hard to keep a tight rein on their mirth. “That sounds great!” the psychiatrist agreed. “Rebuilding the bridges we burn during moments of crisis can be so important. And far be it from me to keep you any longer—although I’d love to schedule a follow-up in a few weeks’ time. Just so I can, ah, see how you’re getting on.”

Mariah nodded eagerly. She was so thankful to Dr. Cerulean for helping her get her head on straight. Really, it was the least she could do.

As Dr. Cerulean stood up to see Mariah out, they carelessly set down on their desk the small notepad they had been taking notes on. With it face up, Mariah could see a few of the choice comments Dr. Cerulean had made:

‘BOOOORING I’m so sad blah blah blah’ ‘messing with her orientation? nice lol’ ‘dig for mantras?’ ‘oh she’s COOKED cooked.’ ‘amazed someone else hasn’t scooped her up already’ ‘regular follow-ups? the massage is pretty good’

Mariah decided to ignore them. She decided they had to be about somebody else. Fortunately, Dr. Cerulean distracted her from it by sliding another piece of paper across the desk.

“Now, about that release?” the psychiatrist asked politely. “I think this could be really great material for a fic. I can see getting a lot of Ao3 kudos for this one.”

With a tight, harrowed, unsteady, haunted grin on her tear-stained face, Mariah obediently signed her name and then hurried back to return to her life as a brainwashed, submissive, lesbian secretary. As she left, Dr. Cerulean leaned back in their chair and slipped their hand down the front of their pants.

“All in a day’s work,” Dr. Cerulean murmured to themself. “Now, let me see if I can finish before my five o’clock.”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Pluto, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Christopher, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, jlc, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Nevin, Waddings, Aletheia, NewtypeWoman, FinixFire, ostara, Ivy, Ramanas, Myles_EXVS, tidalGardener

#story

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starryficsfinishwen · 6 months ago

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𑁍ࠬܓ [activation day special] ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ — lee x reader

ㅤㅤyour whispers, sunlight;

ㅤㅤcold hands feeling for mine

syn. ; lee finds comfort in your arms after a long war.

a.n. - I'm sorry I'm super late TvT its defo my fault bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEE I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR COMING HOME TO ME I HOPE U GET A NEW FRAME SO I CAN SIMP MORE!! also I'm really sorry for the slow and bad updates, I was busy for the past few months due to busy sched (eyy thanks uni) and my poor baby lappy unfortunately had her fan broken down so pray she gets her swift recovery soon 🙏🏻🙏🏻 qna: will chrome get his own activation day special? a: HECK YA qna: when? A: yeah imnida

pairing - lee x f!commandant

words - 3,573

content warnings - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW content: cunnilingus, handjob soft sex eeeyyy. mostly soft lee cuz he deserves it after *TOOOT* HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEE

divider/s by @/saradika-graphics

Warmth. An unfamiliar word, an evading emotion; one that Lee was devoid of for the remainder of his human years.

It was something hard to find. If ever he had it, he would unconditionally give it to his younger brother, in order to make him safe and happy. Even in the darkest days of his human life, until he breathed his last, it was a feeling that avoided him. Would he ever find it? Who knows.

Maybe someone does. Maybe it would be manifested into someone he was long familiar with, apart from Murray, someone who makes his mechanical heart shake. Someone who was then standing by the doorway, whose figure he had long memorized in his M.I.N.D.

You, his precious commandant of the Gray Raven, stood there, bright eyes brimming with curiosity, shaking a familiar brown bag in hand.

“Lee, what is this?” You sighed, with a little laugh, “Can I have an explanation?”

“Good evening to you, Commandant. I am nearly done with my work.”

Sauntering to your desk, which Lee resided in, you eyed him carefully. “Right. Can I ask why you are here, then?”

He held your eye contact for a few seconds, before looking down at the papers, “I am merely just helping with your paperworks. You seemed to have some problems with it earlier.”

“So you decided to distract me with, this,” Shaking the bag, you continued, “... whatever you planned, it’s working quite well.”

It made Lee chuckle. “I’m glad you think so.”

You mirrored his laugh, before pulling out the little trinket in the bag. It was a little blue robot, L-33, one that seemed familiar—a mixed, mini version of Lee and Punchy—that seemed like a toy.

You tapped its head. “Good morning, Commandant.” Echoed an automated Lee's calm voice, “Here are your mission details for today.”

He smiled. “Oh, you found out its features.”

“Of course I did,” you puffed out your chest with pride, “I spent the whole two hours examining him. Watch this.”

Cerulean eyes intently watched as you expertly pushed around a few buttons, promptly triggering the secret sequence. The amusement on his face dropped.

“You…figured it out.”

“Commandant,” the robot cooed, its next few words that were dreadful for Lee to hear, “there’s something I’d–.”

When you blinked, L-33 had shut off, Lee pushing the off button. “–you heard enough.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, “we’ve been teammates for a long while now, Lee,” you teased with a wink, “You think I wouldn’t know your tricks? I also figured out that you purposely gave me L-33 to distract me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You distracted me so you could do my tasks. On your birthday. Traitor.”

The situation was funny. Activation dates—promptly called that way, not really birthdays—were just like any other day. For Lee, there’s nothing special about it.

“The Science Council may have said it’s considered a small break for Constructs. I took it, didn’t I?”

“And you gave that one to me. This is treachery! You were supposed to use that day to spend it with your loved ones!”

Lee pointed at the robot in your hand. “You can spend the day with L-33. Did you read my letter well? I modified its AI to fit your needs. He can answer well.”

“That’s true, Commandant,” chimed L-33, who somehow woke up halfway through, “Please, hang out with me.”

Lee knew you well. From the way your eyes would sparkle when you’re hit with a good idea, or how your eyebrows would knit together when you’re focused on your battle plan, to the shade of pink in your cheeks when you’re flustered by sweet words. The confusion in your face then was something Lee was also familiar with, and he knew how to counter that.

“You’ve rarely gotten any quality rest, Commandant.” Lee spoke, “please use today as a reward.”

Warmth, again, was something Lee had avoided, and if he had it, he was willing to give it to you.

But alas, like the rock that hindered the gears in your head, you were unshakeable.

“...?”

Putting L-33 on your desk, you stomped your way to the nearest chair, sitting down. Bright eyes still not breaking eye contact to look at cerulean ones.

“Since you won’t heed my request,” Emphasising the word, you grinned, “I may as well just stay here, then. I am not in the mood to argue.”

Lee’s patience strummed a chord. Attempting to change your mind, you quickly raised your hand, shrugging, “Ah, didn’t I say I didn’t want to argue?’

Closing his mouth, Lee decided to just drop it.

It took a few minutes—the scratch of pen against paper, the flickering desk light, the soft hum in your lips, and his little childhood melody—before you shuffled to sit closer to the desk.

“...Commandant?”

“Yes?”

Knowing you, Lee decided to dismissed his thought, resuming to what he was doing earlier. It didn't take long. Your humming grew louder, almost ghosting in his ear. Lee sighed, leaning back to welcome you, slithering your leg across his lap, sweetly smiling at him.

“Lee~,” you purred, hands clasped on his broad shoulders, “thank you for the seat.”

Rolling his eyes, he smiled at you. “Whatever makes you happy.”

You were perfectly slotted in his lap, content in how tiny you were that he could still do his work with you. The smell of vanilla permeated his senses, your breathing music to his ear, even and comforting to Lee. He might have had to lie about it, but you were perfect, you were enough—like the piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

“...But I’m not.”

Lee stopped writing, opting to look back at you. “Really?”

Your lips were in a small pout, lipgloss shining in the lights, “Really. I mean, how could I? Imagine taking a break outside; walking around Babylonia, walking around the streets, but you’re here instead.”

“Commandant,” He shook his head, “We talked about this.”

The hands on his shoulders curled, nails rarely scraping his jacket. Seeing your face turn into a sad frown as you bite your lip, a hint of guilt knocks on Lee’s chest.

“...you gave me a gift even though it's your birthday,” Softly, in the cold light, you muttered, “shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Lee prides in his stone heart. But oh, it was hard to say no when it comes to you. “Well, in a way, it’s still our duty as Constructs to bring our Commandant joy and happiness.”

You sighed, “But I don’t see you that way.”

Lee looked at you in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t.” You smiled, “Lee, you may be a construct, but you are different to me.”

Your hands, dragging through his shoulders to his jaw, cupped his cheeks. Lee was a construct—blue blood, robotic joints and bodies, built for destruction. But you, human as you were—simple, frail, fragile—and yet, your warmth was far too contagious. He nuzzled your hand, afraid that he’d lose your heat.

“...[Y/N],” Lee rarely called you by your name, but when he does, his voice breaks, turning to kiss your palm, “[Y/N], you are too kind.”

You leaned closer to him, lips leaving butterfly kisses across his cheeks, “I am treating you the way you should be, Lee.”

Like a piece in a jigsaw puzzle, you were a perfect fit for Lee. Kisses on his cheeks, down to his jaw, to the shell of his ear. You breathed into him, ghosting his ear, that made Lee shiver in your touch. His hands found respite in your hips, kneading the area to aid in your movements.

“...by seducing me though?”

You giggled. “Is it working?”

“Mm, a bit.” He sighed in your shoulder, resting there, “But I still have to finish this.”

“No, don’t.” A small whine escaped your lips as you subtly grinded yourself on his lap, “Can’t you see your birthday gift needs your immediate attention?”

A sly little fox, that you were. You had, unknowingly, slipped closer to him, that your warm core was directly on his semi-hard bulge. As you shifted in your seat, Lee groaned at the friction.

“You will miss a lot of these paperworks if I—ugh—can’t finish this…” Lee’s grip on your hips tightened. “What should I do with you…?”

“Do me,” you purred in his ear, “Do me, your gift, Lee.”

Ah, he’d have to use his gift thoroughly.

Warmth was the feeling, the light at the crack that separated your thighs. One that Lee could drown in as he diligently licks at your cunt.

With a harsh tug of his hair and the sultry whine that slipped past your lips, Lee could die in between your thighs and he’d regret nothing. In the dim light of your room, Lee was nestled nicely down there as you were spread in your bed. Small, kitten lips at your throbbing clit, before lapping at your folds. You forgot how long you’ve been at his mercy, yet the dampness that pooled on your bed could say otherwise.

“L-Lee, ha—haah—wait–” You moaned out loud, “slow down, p-please!”

Pussydrunk, Lee moaned at the feeling, eating you away with no sense. You cried out from the overstimulation, desperately trying to push Lee away. But Lee’s hold in your hips were relentless.

“One more,” he groaned, “give me one more.”

His pants were aching from the tightness, but he was better off rutting his cock at the edge of your bed, focusing on your pleasure first and foremost.

Lapping at your juices, Lee realized why addiction was so potent—if they had seen the way your pussy clenched as he licked you clean, they’d be a devout addict. But he’s lucky, this sight was only his. You, your pretty little, soaking wet pussy was all his. No one else could make you cry out this loud, or the way your face contorted in pleasure—it was all Lee’s.

“C’mon, [Y/N], you can do it, do it for me,” Lee whispered between your soaking wet folds, “be a good girl, you can do it.”

A sharp shiver ran through your spine. Bubbling deep in your stomach, you cried as you felt two of his fingers slip deep in your pussy. “A-ah, Lee, w-wait—”

Sucking at your pearl, Lee’s fingers curled upward, hitting a spongy spot that made your pussy clench hard. With a loud cry of his name, you cum hard for the third time, sticky liquid coating his mechanical fingers. Lee fucks you through your orgasm, mesmerized in the way your eyes rolled back, crying as you arched your back.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “good girl, [Y/N].”

Amidst your orgasm, your pussy answered by squeezing the fingers that were still inside of you. As Lee pulled away, you noticed his chin shimmered with your slick in between the haze, which made your heart flutter. Watching through lust-blown eyes, his cerulean eyes were glowing brightly in the dark, and your only thought was—

“Pretty…”

“Hmm?” Lee chuckled, taking your hand to his lips, “Who is?”

“You,” you lolled, “It’s you…”

You opened your arms to welcome Lee, kissing in spite of his state. It’s hot, brightly burning with passion, humming as you mindlessly kissed Lee again and again, fueled in the heat of the moment. Yet you realized soon that his fingers found themselves grazing your overstimulated cunt, lightly rubbing it.

“A-ah, w-wait,” you whined, weakly pushing Lee away, “not yet…”

“Why?” Lee kissed the shell of your ear, “Is there something wrong?”

Your wandering hands finally found the thing you were looking for. The prominent bulge, sensitive enough that made him groan even as you grazed it with your hand.

“It’s not fair,” you pouted, “let me take care of you, too…”

“[Y/N], I’d much rather help you—”

“—Lee, please,” you pleaded, fluttering your eyelashes, “I want you to feel good, too…”

The fly was already down before he could nod, springing his long, thick cock. Lee breathed out a sigh of relief, but the itch was yet to be itched. Fortunately, your fingers were already running through his shaft, cock twitching from your teasing.

“See,” you sat properly, urging Lee to mirror you, “doesn’t it feel nice?”

You grabbed his shaft, enclosing your hand and jerking him lightly. Lee could hardly contain his moans, cheeks and ears blooming red from your ministration. You couldn't take your eyes off, too—your pretty boy, your Lee, feeling the same kind of pleasure that he had always given you.

“Does it feel good, Lee?” You asked, moving closer, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Good, ugh,” Lee managed to say, “You’re doing so—hah, really, g-good.”

You’ve seen him naked a lot of times, no surprise to see his long and hard cock, heavy in your hand that you had to use your other one to help. Watching the way Lee’s face contorted as you jerk him off almost makes your own pussy throb, another set of wetness pooling in your thighs. Thumbing his slit, precum sliding off, you wanted to dip your head down and suck him off.

“You really should let me do this, Lee,” you hummed, leaning closer that your lips were leaving kisses on his jaw, “You should see how pretty you are when I’m touching you like this, mm?”

“[Y/N],” a sensual moan of your name rolling off of his tongue, your pussy clenched around nothing in response, “God—hah, don’t stop…”

Gritting his teeth, grasping your sheets as you jerked him harder. Your heart was beating wildly, like how you were too entangled with Lee—too wild, too indecent.

But your movements were halted, Lee’s hands wrapped tight around yours.

“Huh?”

“No,” Lee shook his head, ignoring his hot red dick throbbing, moving your hands away, “I can’t cum like this…I need to be inside of you to do that.”

For what it’s worth, Lee had always been wanting to bury himself deep in your cunt before the fun was over. Giggling at his answer, you pecked his lips. “Okay, okay.”

Thinking it wasn’t enough, Lee pulled you closer to kiss you better. Blind hands sought for the dip of your hips, leading you to his own. With twin moans, your pussy was pushed flush on the shaft of his aching cock. You even had the nerve to drag your soaking folds against the sensitive pulsating vein on his shaft.

“You’re teasing again,” Lee warned as he pulled away for a moment.

“I’m only letting you know how much I want you.”

With lips never leaving yours, you reached for his manhood, angling the tip to your awaiting hole. Lee helped in grounding you, gripping your hips hard as you shallowly fucked yourself on the tip.

“I can taste how much you want me, [Y/N],” his voice dripped in your ear, making you shiver, “Look how desperate you are for me.”

“I am,” you whined, feeling the bulbous tip finally slip past your tight ring of muscle, “I am fucking desperate for you, Lee.”

You sobbed as Lee’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you, already hitting your sensitive spot. Burying your face on the crook of his neck, Lee took the time to caress your shaking back.

“Even after we’ve done this a lot of times now—ngh—you’re still too tight for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around his shaft. “G-glad you think so.”

Attempting to rock your hips to move, Lee stopped you. You pulled back, noticing his gaze.

“As much as I want to move,” He whispered, “I’d like to take the time to admire my gift, please.”

You awkwardly laughed, “I thought you’ve done that before.”

“Mm, yeah, I have.” He inhaled, “but it’s different like this.”

Thoroughly content like this. Amid the dark room, moonlight found itself splattered on the floor, on your bed. Lee took your hand and held it back to his lips, gently kissing the back of your hand. Without looking away, his glowing cerulean eyes held too much emotion; there was lust, but they were love and adoration. Watching as he kissed every finger, from the pinkie, to the thumb, kissing one particular finger, lips lingering longer there. A display of emotion, one that Lee has long reserved only for you.

“Did you enjoy your gift, Lee?” You whispered, minding the wild flutter of your heart.

“How could I not?” He said, “You are the best gift I could ever receive.”

Despite everything, Lee is yours. All the pain, all the fear—the Tower, the red tide, the war raging outside of your door—and all you could do was rest your other hand to his chest, the metal cool as you feel the mirroring throb of his mechanical heart.

“Do you know why I love you, Lee?” You asked. He shook his head.

“I don’t.”

“I used to think that we wouldn’t be able to have the luxury for love.”

Looking away, you watched the sea of stars outside of your window. They were twinkling, shimmering; somewhere, constellations blanketed the universe, but they were hiding. You couldn’t care less, but the thought made you think so.

“We’re always sent to battle, and you were made to fight the virus. I didn’t think I’d be able to make a valuable connection, unless it was for the better of the majority.”

Flashes of your graduation from the F.O.S., to your first mission, Kowloong, the church, the Tower—it made you curl your fingers, grasping for Lee’s hand.

“But the Gray Raven…but you, it all changed.”

In the haze of memories, the only clear vision was Lee. Cupping his cheeks, thumb grazing the outline of his jaw, you laughed.

“It’s honestly funny. Gray Raven changed it for the better. But you made me believe that love…it exists, even in this damned world.”

Lee mirrored the smile on your face, as you traced his eyebrows, the shape of his eye, the bridge of his nose. Grazing his lower lip, you lightly left a kiss.

“I’m glad you exist, Lee.” You whispered, “Everything you went through was proof of your existence. I cannot imagine how painful it muat have been, but I want to use all the years of my life proving you that you are loved, that you are deserving of it.”

You’re already pressed flush against one another, but if you could, you’d collide closer to Lee.

“I love you, Lee.” You confessed, “I love you, I will live for you. If you stay on Earth, I’ll crawl out of heaven. Wherever you’ll go, I’ll follow. I never want to be apart from you. Just let me spend all the years with you, to shower you with all of my love.”

Lee took pride in his stoicism. But for you, oh, may that be damned.

Warmth was something he’d not have, but sometimes he covets. But you, you who deserves it all, somehow wants to share this warmth with him, out of all the people. You, who selfishly, gave a warmth unlike others. You, you, you—warm blood, flows freely within you, and you were his, as much as he was yours.

“That’s my line.” He laughed, leaning forward to kiss you, “I’ll love you for all the years, too, [Y/N].”

Every kiss with Lee felt like healing. Grasping at whatever to hold, at whatever skin, you never want to be apart from him. Lee started to move his hips, causing you to moan in between your fervent kisses.

Lee loves you. Lee makes love to you, precisely and deeply plunging his cock inside of you, hitting your sensitive spots. It doesn’t take long though, when your pussy spasmed as you cum through the pressure, crying out Lee’s name.

Lee followed shortly, groaning as he painted your walls, filling you full.

Labored breaths echo throughout the room, two lovers entwined, without the need to break away from each other.

“I love you, [Y/N].” Lee nuzzled in the crook of your neck, “I love you so much.”

“Mm, I think you made me lose the ability to walk at the moment…”

“Consider it a reward. Thank you for being my gift.”

It took a while to settle back into your bed, with Lee wanting to wash you up, but you insisted to stay until the numbing feeling in your legs disappeared. For now then, you were content with Lee on his back, and you sprawled on his chest.

The thump of his mechanical heart was a lullaby.

“Don’t doze off, [Y/N]. I still need to clean you up.”

“Lee,” you yawned in response, “Let’s get married.”

“That’s quite random,” you heard him laugh, “Why the sudden proposal?”

You gently brushed his empty ring finger, “Well, I don’t know what will happen next time. I’d rather have the proof that I’m already taken, and I’d rather have the rest of my life with you.”

“...Unless you like another?” You smugly added, looking up.

But Lee, with a chuckle, only pulled you up, kissing you.

“...We’ll get married, then. Whenever you want.”

“What if I want it tomorrow?”

He’d have to humor you for now, noticing the droop of your eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“I love you,” you dawdled, the last echoes of your consciousness drifting into the sea of dreams, “Lee, tomorrow, okay…?”

“Tomorrow.”

“...mm, don’t forget tomorrow, too…spend your birthday with me…”

“...Yes, I will.”

Lucky for you, a certain ring awaits near your table.

God pls give me a Lee I love You

— starry needs a bf

#punishing gray raven #pgr #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr commandant #pgr global #pgr lee #pgr hyperreal #happy activation day lee!!!!

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a-d-nox · 2 months ago

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tick tock goes the clock game readings

here is the receipt for all the clock readings that were delivered! i want to thank everyone again for celebrating the holidays and my new deck with me!!

clocking 1 - clocking 2 - clocking 3 - clocking 4 - clocking 5 - clocking 6 - clocking 7 - clocking 8 - clocking 9 - clocking 10 - clocking 11 - clocking 12 - clocking 13 - clocking 14 - clocking 15 - clocking 16 - clocking 17 - clocking 18 - clocking 19 - clocking 20 - clocking 21 - clocking 22 - clocking 23 - clocking 24 - clocking 25 (CANT FIND IT TO LINK IT) - clocking 26 - clocking 27 - clocking 28 - clocking 29 - clocking 30 - clocking 31 - clocking 32 - clocking 33 - clocking 34 - clocking 35 - clocking 36 - clocking 37 - clocking 38 - clocking 39 - clocking 40 - clocking 41 - clocking 42 - clocking 43 - clocking 44 - clocking 45 - clocking 46 - clocking 47 - clocking 48 - clocking 49 - clocking 50

-a.d.

#cerulean sequence #oracle cards #oracle #numerology #game

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jamesreads · 9 months ago

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the cerulean sequence: an oracle of numbers

#cerulean sequence #numerology #numbers #tarot #oracle #impressionism #divination #drawing #illustration

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koolkitty9 · 29 days ago

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FINALLY a theory on which I KNOW YOu ALL have been waiting for for me to talk about

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS A LOVE GIVEN/TRUE FORM?!

First off, I believe Love-Given and True forms are the SAME in Boueibu's universe, as Wombat says:

What does this exactly mean? I believe the lovracelets help unlock their forms.

Okay, so WHAT do you mean then? I believe that means each boy was always destined to become a Battle Lover/Caerula Adamas member. This includes Gora AND the twins as well.

In fact, right as Wombat even HOLDS his hand up, the boys are glowing. I believe this is slight evidence that they were at least destined to be Battle Lovers, there really is no way that this could be chosen at random IMO.

Along side this, Yumoto naturally adapts into being a hero quickly, which I KNOW, staff probably meant it bc his brother was Maximum Gorar but, even GORA in s2's flashbacks show that he adapts fairly quickly in his weird training sequence.

NOW, when you go to s1ep11, Zundar and Hireashi are talking about how they're in a rut with CIDE2 but interestingly enough, THIS conversation happens (Hireashi calls the power of love, stupid love and that the stupid love power is why he failed last time)

Why does this exactly matter to this theory? Because it DOES show that Hireashi KNEW there were beings on Earth who could oppose him with the power of love. HE KNOWS THIS because of his fight with Gora and he did know of the Battle Lovers thanks to Kinosaki.

He knew that Gora had a brother, not sure if Hireashi KNEW that Yumoto/Battle Lover Scarlet was but he would surely know by s1ep10 after Kinosaki watches Gora run up to Yumoto and the others WHILE yelling Yumoto's name. He WOULD Know at least by ep11, when he says THIS:

BUT GOING BACK to True/Love-Given Forms, what does it mean for s2 then when s1's bracelets break? These bracelets JUST allow them to use their true forms, I think their forms are deep in their hearts.

Why are they STRONGER? S1 they were just LOVRACELETS, in s2 they are their TRUE LOVRACELETS. These forms are stronger and can let them unleash more power.

What about Gora then? What did Aki and Haru MEAN when they said THIS:

Same with before, I believe Battle Lover Scarlet is Yumoto's true form.

Io's real form? Battle Lover Sulfur. Kinshiro's real form? Chevalier Aurite. Atsushi? Battle Lover Epinard. Haru? Salty Sol.

It really IS in a way self-explanatory.

This is why the monsters are in Binan, these aliens/villains from space, can SENSE the True Forms/Love-Given Forms deep inside the boys, this is why I think Kinshiro being chosen by Zundar, was NOT random. Neither was the others.

SAME, With Dadacha choosing the twins. WHY ELSE would Dadacha come up to two children randomly? He SENSED it in them. He knew he had to exploit their powers/true forms before someone such as Wombat could pick them. It would be easy to as well with the twins being the only few humans IN Andromedia

Hashibiro FINDING GORA? He would have sensed it strongly due to him AND Yumoto, but Yumoto would have been roughly six-eight years old when Gora was in High School (depending on how old Gora is here).

AND THIS IS WHY Wombat landed IN the Kurotama bathhouse, he could sense the forms of Epinard and Cerulean along with Scarlet AND Gorar.

we see time and time again that the Battle Lovers can heal without being transformed. Along side this, in s1ep7 En notes that the Student Council had a weird vibe around them.

AND with them being dubbed as "Heirs to the Throne of Love", this must mean IMO that their true/love-given forms are CONNECTED to the Throne of Love.

Hopefully we find out more in the movie....

Uhh that's all I have right now OKAY BYE!

#boueibu #Binan Theory #cute high earth defense club love #binan koukou chikyuu bouei bu love!#True Forms

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sapphire-heart-tippy · 5 months ago

Text

Sugar Crash Void Bash: The Fanfic!

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

CWs: Violent action sequences, blood mention, slight gore, anxiety and panic, possession/mind control, strangulation, sharp weapons (daggers, spears, halberds)

Chapter Eight: Kingdom Crumbles

After you read this, you'll get to choose between two endings

Bad Ending Good Ending

The fog of tension is so thick in the air that one could cut it with a knife. After a restless night, the soon-to-be heroes did everything in their power to replenish their energy for the upcoming confrontation. Ice and Tippy get dressed in silence, the brunette is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Tippy gently wraps zeir arms around him, planting a reassuring kiss on his cheek. Ice breathes a relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes, and lightly caressing Tippy’s bicep.

Outside

The air, although silent and still, is filled with the dread of what’s to come. Emmanuel steps over the threshold of the front door to meet the rest of his family. He inhales,

“Mr Dio isn’t coming. He’s far too weakened from the attack yesterday.”

“Just as I suspected,” Ice speaks bluntly then turns to the others, “Let’s end this.”

Ramón holds the map, directing the rest of the family members where to go. They trek outside of town, seemingly into the middle of the desert. Emmanuel accidentally bumps into the back of Vanilla,

“Ough! Sorry, cous’–” His eye widens at the sight he sees, “What… the hell… is that?”

Before the three gentlemen, is what looks to be a palace of sorts. The palace is made from smooth sandstone, all lined with gold trim. It has open arches in place of doorways so anyone could wander inside… but would they want to?

Ice shakes his head, remaining silent, but continues hiking down the sand dune. Tippy narrows his eyes in suspicion and curiosity at zeir husband.

The four get closer and closer to the sandstone palace, an eerie pressure lingering in the air with every passing step. Ice feels Ramón wrap his arm around his arm. The pink haired teen holds onto his papa for comfort, anxious about what may happen soon. With a head rub and some soothing words of reassurance from his papa, Ramón’s muscles relax and he feels less tense.

The four’s footsteps echo on the stone floor as they enter the palace. Up high on a hill of stairs, sits a sinister man on his throne. He has pin straightened, lavender, shoulder length hair, sharply cut horizontally, golden-orange eyes that glow intermittently, and is wearing what appears to be a cerulean crown with a sky blue diamond in the center. The crown and his outfit’s ensemble are quite similar to the way the envelope was presented.

Once the group approaches him, a nasty smirk curls upon his glossed lips. Vanilla stops in his tracks, gazing up at the menacing man in the throne, he clenches his teeth,

“Beleza…”

“Wait, you know this guy?!” Tippy says. Ramón and Emi are confused too, the three of them look at Vanilla. The brunette is fuming and imploding with repressed negative emotions of the man in front of him. The man chuckles,

“That’s right. It’s me. Beleza Muscadine, in the flesh and blood,” He smirks grimly, “But you all may address me as ‘Lord Bel’ from now on.”

“In your dreams.” Vanilla growls. Bel giggles, then daintily crosses his legs in his throne. He playfully shakes his head, looking at Vanilla's family,

“Oh, my my my my my… Who do we have here? This,” Bel points at Tippy, “must be your little boyfriend, hm? He’s awfully handsome. I guess you did find love after all, eh, Vanilly?” He bats his eyelashes. Bel points at Ramón, “And this one… this one must be your baby, huh? Ohohoho, you naughty thing…” Bel smirks and looks at Emi,

“You… I have no idea who you are, but my best guess is you are somehow related to this man right here.”

“Let’s end this, Beleza. I’m ready to punch that putrid smirk off your face.” Vanilla hisses.

“So hostile.” Bel puts up his hands. “This guy has always been jealous of me.”

Tippy turns to Vanilla with great concern,

“Vans, what is going on?! Who is this?!”

Before Ice can answer, Bel speaks, directing his attention to Tippy,

“Ohohoho, you’d like to get to know me, pretty little thing?”

The words that slip out of Bel’s mouth send shockwaves of pure rage into Vanilla’s heart. The brunette tries everything in his power to restrain himself from lunging at the purple haired man.

“Allow me to explain.”

Bel ominously glides down the stairs, landing in front of the group,

“I used to be one of The Beast’s loyal servants…

In fact… I was one of the first to join.

After a few months of being Dio’s right hand man alone… that was when Ice appeared.

Hmhmhm… you all should’ve seen him, the way he was before…

He was so pathetic, meek, fragile, dirty… He acted like a shy little child at first.

Of course, Dio took quite a liking to him and didn’t let him out of his sight. I must admit, I was a little jealous of all the attention Ice would get, but mhmhm… all of that changed rather quickly over time.

Even though Ice became stronger and healthier, grabbing Dio’s attention more often… I was still The Beast’s favorite. I made damn sure Icy knew that.

Ohohoho, he would get so angry. Ice hated me so much. Seething with jealousy that I, Beleza Muscadine was so, smart, gorgeous, perfect, and everything he’s not.

He must’ve omitted my existence out of any life stories he told, hm? Well then, I was such a great leader and I could persuade others to do my bidding with ease, something Dio praised me quite highly on. Awww, Vanilly was just so torn apart with jealousy at me ‘stealing away his boyfriend’ that he turned himself into a mindless slave. He obeyed Dio without hesitation, doing anything and everything that was asked of him… no matter how humiliating or degrading the command was.

But… I cared not for Dio’s worthless attention, but mostly for the sake of tormenting Ice. Oh, and taking Dio’s treasure of course.

I was treated quite poorly by The Beast. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life under the thumb of some arrogant waste of space.”

Bel circles the group then hovers back up to his throne, gracefully sitting back down and crossing his legs one over the other. He rests his cheek on his knuckles, gazing down at the gang with his yellow eyes,

“Everything changed for the better however…” Bel looks down at the nails on his left hand then back at the group, “I had found something that helped me get everything I deserved.”

Beleza taps the jewel embedded in the crown on top of his head,

“I found this gorgeous gem. It called to me, and I took it as a trophy.” The purple haired man sighs dreamily, looking off into the distance with hooded eyelids, “Yes, I was Dio’s favorite servant… right up until I had failed in offing The Beast with a wooden stake to the heart.”

Emmanuel is stunned, slowly shaking his head, remembering what happened the day prior. Beleza could have very well finally killed Dio yesterday, yet he chose not to. Bel continues,

“Instead of driving that wooden stake into his undead heart, it was driven right into the palm of his hand. He told me bluntly to get out, and if I were to ever return, I would be executed on sight. I left as told and… hmhm, here we are today.”

“We don’t care about any of that, Beleza.” Ice growls, dripping venom with every word.

“Your little boy toy certainly cared, since he’s the one who asked me so politely.” Bel puckers his lips and winks at Tippy.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH, I’LL KILL YOU!!!” Vanilla bellows, clenching his fists in rage. His anger only makes Beleza cackle.

Emmanuel steps in,

“What did you do with Jonathan?!”

Bel rolls his eyes then taps his cheek with his long golden painted nail. He sighs with an annoyed expression,

“Right… I have something of yours.” Bel snaps his fingers and uses the power of the jewel to bring down a cage containing a dazed Jonathan. The blue bearded man is sitting down on the cage’s floor, completely hypnotized into an unresponsive stupor.

“What did you do to him?!” Vanilla yells. Bel gestures up to Jonathan,

“He wasn’t cooperating, and he tried to use some kind of repulsive sunlight magic on me. Oh, that man certainly did put up quite the fight…” He grins evilly, “But what he didn’t count on was the fact that I like to fight dirty.” Bel grins devilishly, “I figured out that he was using his breath as an energy source… ahuhuhu, and Vanilly over here knows how I just simply *inhale* take the fellas’ breath away.” Bel points at the cage, “Long story short, he’s under my spell. I doubt he even knows what’s happening right now or where he is.”

“You bastard!” Vanilla grits his teeth.

“Mhm.” Bel raises an eyebrow, very unamused, “I’ll tell you what,” He taps his cheek with his golden fingernail, looking up at the suspended cage, “I’ll give the four of you a choice…”

Vanilla shakes his head already prepared to deny anything Beleza has to offer, no matter what that may be. The purple haired man smirks,

“I’ll let Jonathan go free if you join me in executing The Beast, and you must lend me each of your stand powers to take over the world. You four will be my most treasured servants. I will treat you with dignity and grace, don’t worry…”

Beleza narrows his eyes,

“But if you refuse…” He looks up at caged Jonathan, “Each and every one of you will die.”

“NO.” Vanilla speaks firmly, “I will never bow to you. None of us will bow to you.”

“Awww…” Bel feigns a pout, “Tsk tsk tsk, is that your final answer?”

Ice gives Beleza a chilling glare, piercing whatever soul the lavender haired man has left with him. With a smirk and a glance to Ramón, Bel speaks,

“What a shame… and I said I would never harm a child. Oh well,” Bel stands up quickly, holding up his right hand, electric blue magic emanating around it,

“But you have to crack a few skulls to make an empire.”

HSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Beleza’s stand, a large cerulean snake with golden accents and a lilac colored belly, manifests behind him.

“I’d like you all to meet, Gilded Cobra… because he will be the very last stand you ever meet!!!”

Gilded Cobra opens his mouth wide and attempts to strike the couple. Vanilla and Tippy manifest their stands and jump out of the way!

Emmanuel pulls Ramón aside and speaks,

“Listen, little man, you and I are going to rescue Jonathan while your parents take care of this Beleza guy, okay?”

Ramón looks back and forth between Emi and his fathers fighting this new enemy stand user. The teen gulps, but regains his composure and nods.

“Good! Now follow my lead!” Emi sprints over to where the suspended cage is, dipping into Slick’s shadow form, moving along the ground for Ramón to follow.

Tippy uses invisibreak, confusing and irritating Beleza. Gilded Cobra swipes his golden clawed serpent hands at Cream. This enrages the void stand, causing him to belt out a roar that shakes the palace. Cream flattens his hand and goes to slice Cobra in half. The snake stand is too quick! He hisses, spraying venom at Cream. A few drops land on the zombie-like stand, sizzling and melting his flesh. Vanilla grunts in pain, looking in disbelief at the acidic venom wounds.

Tippy peers out from Sapphire Heart’s invisibreak portal from the waist up. With diamond spear in hand, ze pulls it back and thrusts the spear at Beleza.

!!!

Beleza uses his magic to stop the spear from piercing his flesh. The electric blue magic has the head of the spear in its grasp. Tippy struggles to pull away, but Beleza is far too powerful.

“UNNGHH!!” Ze cries out. Beleza’s eyes are glowing bright, laser focused on Tippy. His grimace turns into a smirk, very much pleased from the power he has over the blue haired gentleman. Sapphire Heart appears fully, and grasps the spear in his hands,

“I have had enough of this.”

Sapphire makes the spear disappear in a flash, and swifter than a black mamba bite, ze crashes zeir fist into Beleza’s cheek, sending him flying across the throne platform. Sapphire covers zeir master in a protective crystal shield sphere. Tippy pushes the inside of the forcefield with zeir hands,

“SAPPHIRE!!!”

The genie stand ignores zeir master, seeing red at the treatment of Tippy. Beleza is lying on his throne, dazed and very enraged. Sapphire swoops in, grabbing Beleza by the collar of the top, transforming zeir right hand into a giant metal boxing glove-esque fist. Three sharp blue diamonds detract out of the knuckles,

“HYAAAAAHHH!!!!”

Zeir blow is cut short by the electric blue energy surrounding zeir fist. Bel’s pupils go from round to slitted as he pushes Sapphire Heart back. Tippy has no control over zeir stand anymore, not like ze had very much control to begin with. Bel manages to shove Sapphire away as well as push away the crystal shield orb containing Tippy. The blue haired gentleman screams as ze is flung away out of the range of zeir stand. Sapphire and the orb disappear, causing Tippy to crash painfully to the ground,

“Aauunghh!!”

Vanilla notices this, but is dealing with Gilded Cobra at the moment. His head is peeking out of Cream’s mouth as Cream tries to push Cobra away from him. Ice turns to see his husband lying on the ground,

“TIPPY!!!”

He turns back to the serpent stand, gaining enough energy, strength, and motivation to finally kick him off with both of Cream’s massive legs. Cobra gets sent flying backwards, which causes Bel to stop walking and get sent flying off as well.

Ice leaps out of Cream’s void mouth and dashes over to protect his love. Beleza spots this and narrows his eyes. Before Ice can reach Tippy, Beleza swoops down and seizes zem in his arms. Tippy yelps and is pressed against Beleza’s chest, being firmly held in place by his left arm. Vanilla stops dead in his tracks, viewing the horrendous sight before him. Beleza’s devilish serpent eyes drill into Vanilla’s,

“Hmhmhmhm…” The lavender haired man chuckles, his voice is eerily distorted. Bel looks down at Tippy, eyelids hooded, a smirk impossibly wide and even more snake-like than before. He licks his lips with a black forked tongue. This makes Ice’s eyes widen in pure disgust and bewilderment. Bel looks back over at Ice and his chuckle sounds more like a rhythmic hiss,

“Sss sss sss sss sss…” He continues, “He’s awfully cute…”

The lavender haired man stretches out his hand to the side, manifesting a sharp, curved, golden dagger,

“I might just have to make him my groom instead… but if he misbehaves or disobeys me in any way,” Tippy winces as the cold blade is pressed against his throat. Bel enjoys seeing both Tippy and Vanilla in this position. Having an attractive guy in his clutches, as well as said guy being the lover of his enemy. Ice’s fury amuses Beleza,

“We will rule the world together, my love…” He abandons the dagger, causing it to disappear into thin air. Instead, Beleza gently touches Tippy’s cheek and jaw, making zem look at him, “Oh, darling. Look… look at me… look into my eyes…” Tippy looks into his eyes, going into a trance, causing zeir eyes to glow. Ze tries to turn zeir head away, but zeir eyes remain locked onto Beleza’s.

Suddenly zeir body goes numb, and zeir mind goes fuzzy. Beleza turns away as he just put Tippy under his serpent spell, looking into Vanilla’s eyes as well. Ice feels his body fill with sprinkles of pleasure and his mind go fuzzy. He quickly shields his eyes and groans. Bel grins,

“Yet another thing of yours that I have taken away, eh, Vanilly?” His cackle rings in Vanilla’s ears, making him lose control.

BAWWWMMPPH!!!

Vanilla punches Beleza as hard as he can in the face with his fist. Tippy drops to the floor again, holding the spot on zeir chest where Bel held zem. Ice stomps over to Bel on the ground, seeing that his skin is growing blue scales on certain parts of his body, including his cheeks and neck.

“Vanilla!” Tippy calls over to his husband. Ice whips his head around to see Tippy holding up his hands in the shape of a heart. Vanilla quickly rushes to Tippy and they both yell,

“HEART!!!”

In a flash of bright white light, Razz lands and slides his leg across the floor. Bel hisses, his mouth is wider with two protruding fangs, and sparse blue scales glisten on his cheeks,

“What?!”

Meanwhile, Ramón and Emmanuel are figuring out a way to get Jonathan down from the cage. The two family members finally reach the cage, Emi by using his shadow form, Ramón by glitching out. Emmanuel slips out from the waist up of Slick’s shadow. He touches the cage, only to be met with what feels like an electric shock,

“YEOW! W-what the hell was that all about?!” Emi waves his hand around, “This isn’t good, little man, we need to try to find a way to get him out of this cage, pronto.”

“I have an idea!” Ramón holds up his hand, which is glitching violently. He sticks his glitching hand through the bars just to test his theory, “Aha! So all I have to do is glitch out, grab Mr Jojo and pull him through the bars!”

“Er, no offense, Ramón, but… I don’t think you’d be strong enough to hold this guy.” Emi shakes his head. Ramón floats over next to Emi,

“Okay, what about this? I’ll take Mr Jojo out, then you grab him and send him to the shadow world or whatever that is.”

“Yeah, sure, that sounds like a pla–”

KAH-TAAAANG!!!

The two relatives recoil and realize that Bel shot a slim beam of electric blue energy at the two of them from an enchanted gilded halberd that used to be hanging from a pillar. Bel is tackled by Razz, who was recovering from several thrashes that Bel had given him.

Emi looks directly at Ramón,

“We have to do this quickly.”

Ramón nods in agreement and attempts to pull the weakened Jonathan out of the cage.

Razz and Beleza continue to viciously fight one another. Bel hisses and screeches, grabbing animalistically at Razz’s long brown hair on his right side, yanking him around. Razz howls in pain and claws at Beleza’s chest and face, feeling the transition from skin to scales every now and then.

The lavender haired man straight up strikes at the fusion with his mouth, trying to sink his fangs into him. Razz dodges out of the way, still in extreme pain at having his hair clutched so tightly in Bel’s grasp. Razz fights dirty too, taking a leaf from Beleza’s book and clamping his jaw around Beleza’s left arm.

Bel yelps and hisses loudly, burning venom spraying everywhere, pounding his fist into Razz’s head, making the fusion dizzy. Thankfully Beleza lets Razz go.

The fusion disappears into a cloud of sparkles, which infuriates the lavender haired man even more. Light blue venom drips down Bel’s chin, as he gives out low, beastly growls. His slitted, glowing yellow eyes are wide, as he twirls around trying to catch the damned fusion.

UURRRGHHHH…

Beleza feels an ominous presence behind him. He hears the low, horrific sound of a mysterious creature growling. As the lavender haired man turns around, he is met face to face with Volatile Amethyst. The demonic undead stand holds his scythe with both hands, giving Beleza an evil toothy grin,

“Goodnight…”

SLAAASSSHHH!!!

Amethyst goes to slice Beleza in half with his scythe. Bel’s serpent eyes are wide as his body is sliced diagonally, from left shoulder to right hip. Instead of blood pouring out of his body, electric blue energy radiates across his wound. The jewel in his crown glows blindingly bright, making Amethyst and Razz shield their eyes. Beleza hovers, being held up by the crown’s jewel, his body is limp and his eyes are rolled back in his head as if he is deceased. Razz squints his eyes, trying to get a better look at what’s happening.

Bel lands on the ground, stumbling on his own feet. He gazes off into the distance with a thousand yard stare. His eyes flash from yellow and slitted, to dark brown and round in an instant. Beleza grabs his head and pants from what seems to be distressed,

“Haaahh, haaaah!! W-what?!” His voice sounds vastly different.

Quicker than a mousetrap’s spring, Beleza snaps out of it, regaining his glowing yellow serpent eyes, and looks straight at Razz. His movements are a little more robotic than they were before.

“You are a fool.” Beleza grins, his eyes unblinking and locked onto Razz. The fusion is horrified at what he just saw. He feels a visceral and primal instinct to run away as if Beleza was a beast in the wild and Razz was the prey.

“I cannot be killed.” Razz doesn’t know why but… when Beleza speaks, it feels like it’s… not even him speaking, but rather he's being spoken through.

“The power of the jewel is unsurpassable. By The Serpent’s Eye, you will bow to my feet or perish beneath them.” Beleza’s movements are akin to that of a puppet on a string, something that would be seen straight from a nightmare. Razz backs away from primal fear.

Crrrkk

Bel’s head turns to Emmanuel and Ramón, attempting to glitch Jonathan out of the cage. He raises both of his hands, palms facing upwards, and knocks Ramón out of the sky using an electric blue energy beam from the gem.

Emmanuel reaches out for Ramón,

“NOOOO!!!”

The teenager falls down, weakened from the blast. Razz shrieks and sprints to catch his son. Beleza’s head is tilted, almost touching his left shoulder. His limbs are stiff yet limp, as if he was just a reanimated corpse. His body twitches every now and then.

Razz dashes, and as if everything were happening in slow motion, he manages to catch Ramón before he plummets to the ground. The two of them disappear in a cloud of sparkles, resting in the void for a while.

Beleza jerks his head upwards at Emmanuel, which sends chills down his spine. Emi frantically thinks of some other way to free Jonathan. Beleza raises his hands again, charging another attack while Emmanuel makes his way up to the rope holding up the cage to keep it still.

Slick Shadow tries his best to wriggle his way into the cage without touching the bars, so he can pull Jonathan into the shadow void with him.

Before Beleza can shoot an energy beam at Emmanuel, Razz leaps out of the void and tackles him! They both land on the ground with a loud thud. Razz kicks Bel and stands back up, putting up his obsidian shield.

Gilded Cobra hisses and wraps his mouth over a part of the obsidian shield, trying to break it but to no avail. The electric blue venom drips down onto the ground, sizzling and melting the sandstone floor. Beleza hovers over and starts thrusting the golden halberd violently and mechanically into the force field.

Any and every attempt to break the shield is proven in vain. Beleza growls and launches the halberd directly at Emmanuel, missing him by mere centimeters. The enchanted halberd disappears and is teleported back to the ground near Beleza. Ramón laughs, grabbing the attention of the lavender haired man,

“Haha! Give it up already, Beleza. We can literally do this all day! My fathers can stay fused for 12 hours!”

Beleza’s face turns from frustration to realization to deviousness. He grins wickedly and slowly turns his head to Razz,

“Good to know…”

Beleza leaps up into the air, hovering with his head looking straight up at the ceiling. The gem glows a bright white, then a bright orange… then a bright red. His arms are stretched out and hands are holding two glowing orbs of golden energy. Razz frantically looks around,

“W-w-what’s going on? What the hell is happening now?!”

Ramón runs up to Razz, grabs his bicep and points out of the open archways,

“Whatever’s happening outside!!!”

Outside, the clouds move faster and faster with each passing second.

“Wait…Wait.” Razz realizes,” H-HE’S FAST FORWARDING TIME!!!”

“I refuse to be disrespected by worthless mortals.” Beleza’s voice booms all around the palace.

Razz runs to below where Beleza is and has Amethyst fly upwards,

“Shit! He’s out of range of my stand!”

Ramón gets a determined look in his eyes and rushes to the spot Razz is at. He glitches out and disappears, startling the fusion.

Beleza continues to make time pass even faster and faster until it’s night. Ramón glitches up to where he is and manages to grab onto Beleza. They both glitch around, the magic coupled with the glitching, makes the entire earth shake and distort.

“STOP THIS! STOP AT ONCE, YOU FOOL, YOU’LL KILL US ALL!” Beleza roars.

The entire universe ripples and wobbles from the immense power distortion caused by Ramón’s glitching and Beleza’s gem magic. The two of them lose power for a brief moment and plummet to the ground.

The teen finds enough strength to get his stand power back and glitches out into the void before he hits the ground. Beleza hovers, lying down prone, almost touching the ground. He stands up and clenches his fists, glaring at Ramón. He directs his attention back to the fusion and smirks,

“11 hours and 55 minutes have passed. You don’t have much time left before you are separated.”

Razz says nothing, his heart is racing and he bites his teeth, angry and anxious. Beleza grabs the golden halberd once again and shoots out an energy beam at Emmanuel, this time grazing his right bicep.

“AAAUGH!!!” Emmanuel wails in pain, wobbling and having trouble clinging to the rope. Slick Shadow gets electrocuted by the cage bars, recoiling in pain and ruining all of the progress. Beleza gives a fang filled grin.

Razz turns to his son,

“Ramón, run away. Run far, far away. Please.”

“W-what?! N-no! I can’t! I won’t–”

“You need to save yourself, child.” Razz commands his son, then mumbles, “Vanilla and Tippy shouldn’t even have brought you in the first place.”

Before Ramón can respond, Razz sprints to Beleza, and another battle ensues. The teenage boy is completely paralyzed in place, watching Razz and Beleza attack each other with their bare hands.

His heart thumps against his ribcage, unintentionally glitching around,

“G-GA-A-A-AUGH!”

Ramón stops for a few moments and looks up at Emmanuel, who’s trying to release Jonathan from the cage while at the same time trying to stops his wound from bleeding. Blood drips down from the area Emmanuel is at, splattering down to the floor below.

Ramón trembles from fear, feeling his fingers go numb. His periphery grows fuzzy and unfocused, his heart beats uncontrollably no matter how slow he tries to breathe. His throat closes up, making it almost impossible to swallow.

With a couple more glitches, his golden brown eyes lock onto the jewel in Beleza’s crown, glowing bright blue. Sugar Crash whispers behind Ramón barely audible but still just enough to hear,

“He’s being puppeteered by it…”

That’s when the teen realizes… He remembers the person in the trench coat and top hat. They had glowing yellow eyes for a while until... Suddenly they didn't. Just a little while ago, Beleza was sliced in half by Volatile Amethyst, then got revived by the gem in his crown. Ramón replays that scene in his head over and over… Beleza’s eyes… his eyes… his eyes went from a glowing yellow to a dark brown.

Razz shouts and uses his stand to slice at Gilded Cobra. The snake stand hisses and strikes at Amethyst at lightning speed. Amethyst goes in to slash at him, frantically swinging around the scythe. Cobra whips around and smacks Amethyst up against a pillar, sending Razz backwards as well. The pillar cracks and crumbles, pieces of debris flying every which way.

Beleza flies over to Razz, only to be kicked in the abdomen by both of his legs. Beleza grunts from the power of the kick. He hisses, the bright blue venom from his fangs spewing as his mouth opens. Razz covers his face, his forearms taking the stinging droplets of venom,

“Aaaughh!”

Meanwhile, Ramón is quickly coming up with a plan to steal away the crown from Beleza. With a deep inhale and a glance to his stand, he glitches out. The battle between Razz and Beleza causes destruction all inside of the palace.

Emi clutches his arm, watching as Slick Shadow wraps around the inebriated Jonathan,

“Come on, come on…”

Slick gets electrocuted every now and then, causing immense pain to Emmanuel, yet he pushes on.

Ramón manages to glitch his way behind Beleza. The lavender haired man is dodging Razz’s punches and kicks, but what he didn’t count on was Ramón grabbing the crown from his head.

“HUH?!” Beleza twists his head around and catches the teenager in the act. Ramón gasps! Simply removing the jewel from Beleza’s head isn’t enough. Razz lands a harsh blow against Beleza’s left cheek, bringing his attention back to the fusion. Ramón thinks fast, glitchily flying over to another area where he slams down the crown into the ground.

The pink haired boy stomps on the jewel with his foot, but it does nothing. He tries to have Sugar Crash punch it, but still nothing happens.

Suddenly, a glint of metal catches his eye,

“Th-the halberd!” Ramón dashes over to the enchanted halberd Beleza had abandoned and snatches it up off the ground. He sprints back over to the crown and starts smashing the jewel with the head of the weapon.

CRRK!

The halberd manages to crack the gem bit by bit. It starts glowing red, the light pulsating in a rhythm as if it’s a dying heartbeat. Beleza furiously grabs Razz by the throat and hovers, raising the fusion up in the air and strangling him with just one hand. Razz grabs hold of Beleza’s wrist and does everything he can to pry himself free from the deadly grip.

Ramón looks over for a brief moment to see what’s happening, then goes back to smashing the jewel with the enchanted halberd, grunting and using every bit of his strength to destroy the accursed thing.

Emmanuel strains and shudders from both the pain of being shot with an energy beam, and from being shocked by the cage’s bars. He finally has Jonathan fully enveloped in Slick’s shadow form. Now all there is left to do is pull him out.

Ramón wails as he slams the golden halberd down into the jewel repeatedly. Gilded Cobra slithers over to the fusion, unhinging his jaw and going in to take a finishing bite. Ramón looks over once again and shrieks,

“NOOOO!!!”

This time sobbing in terror. There is not much time left before Razz separates back into Ice and Tippy.

To be continued…

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cerezzzita · 10 days ago

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★. Milli's lab — vol. 1 ⌕ feat. Ezio Auditore & Diana Salvatore

notes: ... WHY HELLO THERE! Welcome to "Milli's lab", a lil thing of mine to experiment some of my creative liberty towards my own writing, may it become actual fanfics or nah. Um, so... I didn't expect to post anything related to Assassin's Creed here, but the fucking hyperfixation is hyperfixating! Ugh! And so, after an span of one-year-and so-on-months away from the fandom, I came back and finally created an OC to pair up with Ezio because he's my shayla among all the hooded gang 💔 I do not know how receptive the fandom are with OCs, though... I hope it comes out good! Diana is my baby and I love them two together 🫶🏽

By the way, this is 600 words long (I believe), it's settled somewhere in AC2 because my memory sucks and because these two, in my head, had such a freaking long slow burn, but they're already in love! Ah, the old and good mutual pining!

Enjoy the reading! <3

With the harmonious orchestra of tiny crickets scattered throughout the always silent night of Monteriggioni, Diana reveled in her own stillness as she slowly completed her umpteenth re-reading of The Iliad, snuggled in the sheets of her bed and in the warm breeze provided by Zephyrus’ waltzes. Her slender fingers slid page by page until the triple tinkling on the surface of the bedroom window filled her hearing and expelled her from the midst of gods and heroes. A messy crease forms in her eyebrows.

“Ma che cazzo…?”

Another clink. A voice came whispering like this:

“Diana! Diana!”

Upon recognizing the whisperer, she let out a short smile. Now having her curiosity piqued, she got up from the bed and through the crack in the door that led to the balcony of the Villa Auditore, she could see a hooded head emerging from the marble railing. Diana swallowed a lump of saliva that appeared in the back of her throat as she felt her heart begin to hammer in the forges inside her, embers erupting and strangely sprouting flowers on her skin even though it was covered by the nightgown she was wearing.

She shook her head. Don’t fool yourself, Diana. Focus and control!

When she opened the door and positioned herself half out, she fronted-up with Ezio, his feet already firmly planted, robes that were once white dotted with blood red and a scathing smile that tugged at that scar that Diana harbored a certain desire for — repressed in the box that was secreted in the corner of some room in her mind — to trace with her fingers. She clears her throat, sewing a similar smile on her own lips.

“Ezio? What are you doing here at this time of night? Do you want to wake up the whole city?” She asked jokingly.

“I’m the one who should ask you that question, signorina,” he began, pretentiously cordial. Diana watched with her large, cerulean eyes as the gloved hand deftly removed the hood, a tingle in her stomach given her privileged view of Ezio's Apollonian face. “You seem awake for this time of night…”

“Birbante! Don’t mock me!” Despite the reprisal, her tone was light and relaxed. “What do you want, anyway?”

“Ah, yes”, Like someone waking up from a trance, he blinks his amber eyes twice and rummages through his pockets until he directs his cupped hand towards Diana. She looked through it, noticing a small package. Clearing his throat, the words came out in a shy sequence: “I... I saw that and thought of you…”

If it weren't for the darkness of the night veil that enveloped all of Italy, Diana could have captured the simple rosy bloom on Ezio's cheeks. Two steps forward and before him she stood; for a tiny second, a glance, a flash pumped directly from the heart to thought, she swore she saw the orbs opposite her own on a fleeting journey through her ebony hair that fell free down her back. Diana gasped, desperate lips trembling with gratitude.

Something momentarily in both of them made their flesh pulse as their fingers touched the moment she picked up the package. As Diana undid it, the still-covered sparkle made her frown. With her fingers in pincers, she picked up the object and the sigh she let out was more descriptive than any other expression steeped in surprise could describe.

It was a beautiful pair of earrings, drop-shaped pearls inlaid with sapphires. She felt her own face bubbling, a glowing sensation coursing through every fiber of her being. That same heart forge resounding like the shrillest of thunder clogging her ears.

“Dio mio…” Finally, her voice lines up, although small. “Ezio, you-”

“Did you like it?” he panted, flustered. “I thought of you when I saw them in the store. The sapphires reminded me of your eyes."

And with those same sapphire irises that surrounded his thoughts graced by Eros, Diana faced him, her chest heaving and her eyelids teary.

“Oh, Ezio. You did not have to... Oh, Ezio!”

Ezio barely had time to say anything as she rushed to his chest, hugging him fervently. Soon he reciprocated, welcoming her with all his affection.

“They are so beautiful that words fail to leave me! Grazie! Grazie mille!”

“Di niente, cara mia.”

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed 2 #ac2 #assassin's creed fanfiction #ezio auditore da firenze #canon x oc #diana salvatore da venezia #<- yah that's my baby's full name hihihi #ezio x diana #their ship name is... firenzia #i... yeah it’s firenze + venezia bc i didn't thought of smth more creative than that pardon me in advance 😭💔#oc x canon #fluffy fic #ac fanfic #asscreed

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doodle-pops · 1 year ago

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A Dance Made For Us

Finarfin x reader x Fingolfin

Kinktober 2023: Threesome

A/N: As this is the last fic of the event, I decided to go out with a bang (pun intended) and give you all the most words I've ever written for smut. I was in different moods while writing this, so excuse the long plot (I'm a sucker for plots, you all should know that by now). I had quite a lot of fun writing this and wanted to take my time building the tension to make this work despite being thrown off at numerous turns. Also, since this is a pairing not seen, I wanted to make it worth the read. In the end, I hope you enjoy the final fic!

Warnings: fem!reader, smut with plot, threesome, dom–sub dynamics, cunnilingus, blowjob, handjob, double penetration, anal and vaginal penetration, dirty talking, semi–public groping, flirtation, manhandling, nipple play, impact play (spanking), Finarfin loves titties, praising, body–worshipping, dom!Finarfin, dom!Fingolfin, asphyxiation, Finarfin being a snappy and impatient brat,

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: As the upcoming ball for the House of Finwe approaches, the two young renowned Princes decide to improve their dancing. Inviting you, a longtime friend, to assist them, things take a fortunate turn when the heat gets turned on as you’re left alone in their hands. Determined to prove how much they have learned, they each take it upon themselves to demonstrate, competitively, their experienced skills.

List of Requests

Heels clopping away on the resplendent dance floor of the empty ballroom, your body was mesmerised by the fluidity of your dance partner and too caught up in the moment to acknowledge anyone else. Cerulean blue eyes were locked on yours as he led you step by step, feeling as though it was more than just dancing and another form of physical intimacy. A simple request from the elder of the two princes turned into a jealous game, switching you back and forth between each other to professionalise their performance for the upcoming Yule ball. You were most content with the impression that they were eager to improve their gracefulness and elegance after the last incident—constantly having your foot stepped on was not promising.

However, had you known there was a fourth person in the opulent and grand room, you would have gladly accepted their offer. The instructor’s presence, constantly hovering like a cautious parent, was irritating. Their presence had already vanished the moment you engaged with either of the princes, twirling you around and placing their hands on your waist. However, their irritating voice consistently broke your concentration, causing you to accidentally step harshly on Fingolfin’s right foot, making him stumble backwards, almost colliding with a pillar.

The scene only fuelled the instructor’s frustration, while you rolled your eyes, thanks to their incessant, annoying voice periodically disrupting your focus. You were already enjoying yourself, dancing around the room freely with Fingolfin—the first time you had ever seen the uptight prince so carefree and relaxed. Perhaps it was because Finarfin was present and not his elder brother, but you were pleased to see him in a leisurely state without being reprimanded for messing up the dance sequence; instead, it was the dance instructor who took on that task.

She finally couldn’t take it any longer and shouted, “Stop, stop, stop, stop. Enough!” With that, the three of you took the opportunity to laugh at her distress, knowing that your antics were working. From the beginning, none of you wanted the instructor to loom around the ballroom due to her history of giving the princes harsh lessons and ruining their fun. The more you stressed her out, the sooner she would give up or call off their lessons. “Your Highness, I implore you, with all due respect, the steps are quick, quick, slow. Not quick, slow, quick.”

As you turned in each other’s arms, you caught Finarfin giggling behind the instructor, his hand covering his mouth as he tried not to get into trouble. It seemed that he was the only one among the three of you who had escaped the instructor’s wrath and was now making it his mission to mock both of you and the instructor’s pressure. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his childish antics, you bit your tongue as the instructor came forward and asked you to step aside to demonstrate the proper moves to Fingolfin.

Gently sidestepping, you hurried to stand beside Finarfin, not without giving his arm a playful pinch for his antics. Both of you couldn’t help but shoot Fingolfin a playful pout as he had no choice but to engage in a brief dance session with the instructor to correct his mistake. “Looks like the instructor won’t be giving up on you two anytime soon. How long has it been?” you whispered discreetly to the golden–haired beauty next to you.

“I’d say she’s onto us this time. It’s been two and a half hours. Last time, she gave up after just an hour,” he chuckled, completely carefree, stealing glances at you, who couldn’t help but clutch your stomach from laughing. “But it seems like háno is enjoying his private dance lessons.”

Suppressing another fit of laughter, you turned your head to catch Fingolfin’s desperate plea in his facial expressions. Clinging to Finarfin’s tunic, you doubled over, amused by the way Fingolfin’s face contorted into a plea for help. It had dawned on Fingolfin that inviting you had been a grave mistake, given your apparent lack of concern for him and your tendency to find his reactions amusing. If he had known this would be the outcome of the dance lesson, he might have convinced his brother to leave you out. Nevertheless, watching your unbridled joy was utterly captivating.

“He looks like he’s on the verge of passing out any moment. Save him, Ara, or he’ll spontaneously combust, and we’ll never hear the end of it,” you urged, playfully pushing Finarfin towards his brother to rescue him from embarrassment.

To the disappointment of both his brother and your plea, Finarfin stepped aside, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Are you insane?! Do I look like I want to be devoured by Lady Ancalmaril? When she’s done or grows tired of us, that’s entirely her decision.”

With a playful grimace, you pressed your lips together, watching him retreat to stand behind you. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly at his proximity and the warmth radiating from his tunic–clad body. It wasn’t unusual for either of the brothers to have such an effect on you, but it seemed to be happening more frequently as if they were becoming aware of your reactions. You chose not to dwell on it, not wanting to misinterpret the situation and risk damaging the friendship between the three of you. Instead, you remained focused on the scene before you: Fingolfin being spun by the instructor after his failed attempt at spinning her. However, somewhere during her attempt to spin him, his feet kicked out and unintentionally stomped on hers. This sent her into a fit of winces and eye twitches as she struggled to suppress the growing pain caused by the weight of the overgrown young prince on her poor foot.

“Alright, that’s enough! My prince, you’re too distracted right now. Let your brother have a turn while you take a break,” she commanded, flicking her wrist as her fingers indicated where she wanted you all to move and biting her tongue to not cry out.

Without wasting a moment at the opportunity, Finarfin wrapped his slender arm around your waist, pulling your body close to his newly developed abdominal muscles. He effortlessly led you onto the dance floor. From the sidelines, he could see his brother looking defeated, aware that Finarfin was about to take the lead and win this round—an ongoing, silent bet between the brothers.

As your body glided across the floor without your feet touching it, you felt like you were flying through the air, carried by Finarfin like a doll eager to have his turn with you once again. It had been over an hour since he had last danced with you, while his brother had taken the spotlight, twirling you around the opulent and grand dance floor like a princess.

Laughter rippled through your body as his hands gently cupped your waist and spun you like a top. He was eager to display his skills and show off to his brother, asserting himself as the superior dancer and partner. He threw a smug look in Fingolfin’s direction, silently declaring, “I’ve won,” and led you across the floor with care, diligently repeating the dance steps he had been taught and avoiding the mistakes he had made earlier. Anything to prevent the instructor from separating you two and prematurely ending the session. If that were to happen, you would have no choice but to leave immediately. As an unmarried maiden suitable for courtship, and with your parents being rather strict about chaperoning, discretion was essential, and it became apparently knowledgeable on the instructor’s end.

Catching the younger prince’s eyes, he sent you a flirtatious wink before spinning you around and seamlessly transitioning into another sequence. His hands, at times, felt heavier on your waist, occasionally rising higher on your back or dipping lower just above your backside. You could sense his attempt to maintain dignity as the dance progressed, even as your bodies drew closer, allowing you to feel his muscles and warmth. You couldn’t tell whether it was you or him who was breathing harder as you focused on the intensifying proximity.

The flirty winks persisted, but the palpable look in his eyes, as they roamed your face, made your breath hitch. Your cheeks grew warmer the longer his electric blue eyes locked onto your features, darting from his lips to his eyes and then to his feet when you realized you were caught gazing. The tension between you both intensified, combined with the audience watching, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you feared making a mistake and disrupting the sequence. It was a struggle to maintain your composure while resisting the urge to not combust in his arms like a fool.

This wasn’t the first time such a situation had unfolded. Your initial dance lesson with the princes had been conducted in a similar manner. The closeness and their tantalizing touches always flirted with the edge of something more, their bodies pressing nearer without inhibition as each session continued. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was still a dance session meant to enhance their professionalism on the dance floor or if it had morphed into a courtesan bird dance; like a peacock impressing its lady. The glances exchanged with every twirl and dip, their hands caressing your curves and tracing the contours of your back, left you internally on edge.

“Just where do you think your hands are going?” You attempted to sound playful through your breathless whisper as the heat in your face intensified due to the closeness between you both and the presence of the audience. Instead, your voice shivered and rattled with nerves at the impending knowledge of his touch being seductive. To be honest, if he was endeavouring to kiss you at this moment, you had at least hoped it would be in private, away from his brother and the instructor. There was no denying that the golden–haired prince was breathtakingly gorgeous, and it had been a dream of yours, like many others, to share an intimate moment with him, even if it was just a kiss for the experience.

Sensing your anxiety, there was a playful grin he wore on his lips before glancing over your shoulder and realising that only the three of you remained in the room; Lady Ancalmaril had left to fetch some refreshments and ease her foot during your flawless performance. Taking a moment to lock eyes with his brother, a questioning look was exchanged and silently mouthed, “How long?” Fingolfin responded with, “Hour.”

Maintaining their gaze on his older brother, the two of them shared a moment where their thoughts traversed, having planned such an encounter ages ago. The slight uplift at the corners of their lips, the daring gleam in their eyes, the arched brows, and the biting of their lips—all were signs that left you puzzled as you observed Finarfin’s expressions. His body continued to move with fluidity despite engaging in a heated, silent conversation, surprising him that he could perform so smoothly without getting distracted.

Nodding with a surge of excitement coursing through his veins as their plan finally took shape, he shifted his focus back to you and offered a sweet smile. “My hands are right where they should be, love. We are dancing, after all,” he said with a dazzling smile, giving you a half twirl and pressing your back against his chest. “Or perhaps you’d prefer my hands elsewhere?” You could discern his intentions from his voice. His smile was hypnotic as he gently moved his left hand higher up your sides, pressing you even closer against his chest, eliminating any space between you. Your breath caught, and you swallowed hard as you turned your head to gaze at his enticing demeanour.

As your face came in contact, his head nestled in the junction of your neck, and his tranquil breathing caressed your face. The scent of peppermint from the tea you had both shared earlier still lingered in his breath. His proximity was somewhat overwhelming; his hair and arms enveloped you both, and his cheeks brushed delicately against yours. The two of you gradually slowed your movements into a gentle sway, your front now facing away from Fingolfin and towards the giant vivid canvas adorning the wall, while Finarfin seized the opportunity to strike with even more passion.

His left hand was perched on your waist while the other trailed up your sides, fingers gliding over your dress, leaving behind a frustrating sensation. Not once did his fingers venture past your bustline; instead, they chose to linger around your abdominal area, skimming across your stomach and sides. The unspoken narrative conveyed through his actions marked a turning point and turmoil in your life. Never before had you felt the desire to seize his hands and guide them to where they should be if he intended to tease you like this. The realisation that he was your best friend, and a prince was a fleeting thought when he engaged in such provocative actions without seemingly considering the need for discussion or consent. You could sense that he was wearing his smug expression as his actions continued, savouring the way your muscles clenched and reacted to the sensations he provoked.

Your hands, which had initially held onto his delicate wrists, now clutched the material around his thighs, fingers curling into the silky fabric and struggling to maintain a grip as he continued to tease you. Your heart raced, its thunderous beats echoing in your ears as his fingers persisted in their tantalizing caresses, and an array of butterflies gathered in places they shouldn’t have. You comprehended what was happening, and yet, you didn’t. When had the mischievous golden–haired figure acquired all these seductive tricks?

A mocking laugh echoed beside your right ear, but you were too lost in thought to notice his right hand leaving your waist to cup your chin, gently turning your head to meet his suggestive gaze. A melody as sweet and disconcerting as caramel and cream followed. “Are you alright? Do you need a little...assistance in focusing?”

At this point, you had mixed emotions, contemplating whether you should strangle him on the spot for his absurd, nonsensical question. He certainly had a knack for getting on your nerves with his impeccable charm. His closeness made you queasy as his face inched nearer to yours, causing a swarm of butterflies to assail you. Swallowing hard as he loomed, your pulse quickened as his thumb lifted to trace over your lips, your eyes following its every move. Interestingly, the hand that had been gliding over your clothed skin now splayed its fingers beneath your diaphragm, pulling you closer to his warm body.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with intoxication, your head leaning forward, drawn to meet his lips.

Licking his own lips and giving a seductive nibble, he stretched his slightly reddened lips into a cunning smirk. “Dancing,” he coolly commented.

“This isn’t dancing; this isn’t like you at all,” you softly muttered, your eyes locking onto his and searching for the desire you had already discovered swirling in his gaze. You simply wished to confirm that what you were experiencing was not a product of your imagination.

He jerked his head with an inaudible scoff, giving a half roll of his eyes before responding casually. “Of course, we’re dancing...just something a bit different.” Dropping his hands to your waist once more, he spun you sharply, returning you to your original position from the beginning. Hooking your left arm over his shoulder, he placed a kiss against the exposed skin and lifted the other side to wrap around his neck, allowing him to resume his close proximity. “You should know that there are plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

“So, pretending to lack modesty and flirting is one of them?” you teased, your voice catching when he pushed your chest against his so that your faces were intimately close.

Swaying from side to side, but remaining in your fixed position, he regarded your face with a hint of amusement. “Flirting is indeed one of them. As for dignity, I wouldn’t consider this a lack of it; it’s more like me acting on my deep desires.” His face closed the distance to bring his lips against the shell of your ear. The initial coolness, followed by the warmth of his breath, prompted you to close your eyes as he whispered. His lips lightly tickled your earlobe, a delicate touch of his moist lips against your skin that nearly made your knees buckle.

Tightening his grip around your waist in response to the sudden jerk, he bit his lip to stifle his laughter. “Is this how you choose to behave? Engaging in a flirtatious charade before your brother and then claiming to have propriety? The Ara I know would never act in such a manner,” you shakily hissed, suppressing the urge to easily yield to his embrace.

Chuckling softly, he pulled back and locked eyes with you. “Your dear Ara is still here, taking control of the situation and acting according to his own will.” The tension in the room had reached its zenith. Your bodies were no longer swaying; you stood still, yet the absence of space between you both made the heat and desire emanating from your proximity palpable. You wondered if he could sense your erratic heartbeat from the wild look in your eyes as you traced his features.

The presence of Fingolfin in the background faded, thanks to the excellent job Finarfin had done in ensnaring both of you in this private paradise. It was a little bubble where he could openly seduce you to his heart’s desires, having the best of both worlds. You were intrigued by his intentions as he lured you in with every enticing word and brush of his hands. The enchantment was released, and you felt ensnared like a genie in a bottle, here to fulfil his every need.

Your lips brushed against each other, and the desire to close the gap and lose yourselves on the marble floor became overwhelming. You gently nudged his upper lip with a question, “So, what is your desire?”

“To have you; to have you on this very floor, against the wall, the bed, wherever you wish, so long as you cry out my name,” he declared without missing a single beat.

“Ara…” you mumbled in response to his directness, too stunned to formulate a suitable reply as he continued to brush his lips against yours, planting delicate kisses.

Growing impatient with the prolonged teasing and eager to proceed with his plan before the instructor returned to disrupt the tension in the room, he pressed a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth. Receiving a silent yet observant response, he saw it as a challenge and continued, placing another kiss on the opposite corner, closer to your lips, nearly covering most of them. He had been living up to his reputation as a considerable tease since the start of this dance session. “Are you going to grant me the honour? I don’t particularly enjoy indulging impatience in a situation like this.”

To emphasize his point, it became evident why he kept pressing your bodies together. His evident erection pressed against your abdomen through his leggings and robe, feeling solid and vigorous, and you couldn’t even gauge it with your hands.

“Then you’ll have to get used to being patient. You can’t have your way all the time,” you teased, moving your face to temptingly pull your lips away from his, which made him softly whine.

“I concur.” The addition of a third voice broke your concentration, and you opened your eyes, glancing to the right to see Fingolfin standing behind his brother with the same impatient expression. Much darker eyes filled with annoyance that scene unfolding without generously requesting his assistance. Undoubtedly, they were brothers cut from the same cloth; one just happened to wear his impatience more openly than the other. “But if you are serious about committing to this... engagement, shall we continue in private?”

Being tugged against firm bodies and having the eager hands of the princes roam your body was astonishing. Since they possessed a fibre in their fragile body to be aggressive and lustful. To be frank, you wouldn’t have expected this behaviour from either brother given their dedication to upholding their dignity. Though, the last person you imagined being rough was Finarfin given his gentle–natured persona; and judging from the firm grip on your waist and the constant tugging into his chest, impatience was becoming his apparel also.

You stood in the middle of an ongoing tug–of–war between two brothers was a heavenly wish that only felt natural to be a dream. There was no difference between their touch as it was equally aggressive and visceral; the weight of their hands and lips, biting and tugging, gave the impression that you were merely a ragdoll. Your purpose was to serve them and their desires, be tossed about however it pleased them, so long as they were satisfied—it would be polite of them to also grant an insurmountable volume of pleasure in return for the service you were willing to provide. Being invited into the house of the King and finding yourself entangled between desirable princes was no ordinary occurrence, this was divine intervention.

With Finarfin at your front and Fingolfin at your back, their hands were busy unlacing your unnecessary complex dress, passionate to have your bare skin to their luxury. As their hands scrambled, one pair of lips was attached to yours and another to your neck. It was an unbelievable sight observing the friendly boyish persona of Finarfin dissipate and turn into a hungry beast. Fingolfin was a bit less expected given the entire stoic demeanour, nevertheless, what he had in store was equally anticipatory as Finarfin’s.

Feeling the heat of their breaths scorch your skin, Finarfin was the first to pull back, offering a cheeky grin as his fingers finally tugged the string out the last loop to loosen your dress. Without question, his hands reached for the tops of your dress and gave it a harsh tug to slide the material over your shoulders and down your arms. It didn’t get far once your arms were raised to cover your slightly exposed chest, conscious of revealing your nudity to your friends. A sense of self–possession had abruptly manifested and echoed remembrances of your relationship with them.

“Do you…Do you want us to stop?” quizzed Finarfin. Evident sadness showed in his eyes as his hands fumbled with the frills on the edges of your dress. Behind you, Fingolfin ceased his ministrations and looked over your shoulder to gauge the situation. Even he was puzzled by the new silence and looming question.

“Is everything alright?” inquired Fingolfin.

Turning your head to catch his pensive stare, you dipped your eyes to meet his chest out of nerves. His gaze was forever intense, no matter if the situation was tender–loving. Nodding your head with an audible hum, your gaze remained focused on his chest while Finarfin’s fingers still toyed with the frills of your dress that gathered on your arms. You gathered the younger experiencing impatience and the older, anticipation while you felt like a puddle in the middle, full of nerves.

Were you truly about to bare your naked body before the princes and in return, have them naked as well? You were about to see each other naked and…sleep with them. Count your blessings and consider yourself the chosen one. You couldn’t help but bite your lip to suppress the growing smile from your thoughts. A bit of a giddy feeling settled in your stomach and pumped through your veins at the recognition of being lucky. All that was necessary was to push the jitters away and carry on; let them care for you how they desired and enjoy the ride.

“It’s alright, I’m just—you know, nervous.” You giggled and lifted your hands to cover your mouth from turning into full–blown laughter. “I still can’t believe all this is happening. I mean, we’re friends and you really want to sleep with me—how are you two normal about this?”

With a subdued chuckle, Fingolfin stepped back and made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed to remove each boot. To him, he took your enthusiastic questioning as a sign that you weren’t against the interaction and motioned to undress himself first; perhaps as a means to calm your jitters and show that he was thrilled to engage with you. “Uh–huh, it’s a bit shameful to note that this was something we planned—”

“Yes, yes! We both planned this entire interaction. Though, it was mostly I who came up with it and háno tagged along until he realised he was losing and showed more effort last minute.” Came the impatient voice of Finarfin who was growing annoyed as the minutes passed and turned what should have been intimate, into an explanation. His visage did a perfect job of mimicking the annoyance he suffered during the entire exchange while sporting an erection, desperately in need of being nurtured. “He obviously lost, but I’m gracious enough to not leave him to suffer.”

Darting a comical appraisal at the nonchalant blond, you poked your cheek with your tongue and mused. “This was a bet?!”

“Yes, and it was quite silly. To basically see who would be considered the better dancer; as you can tell, Ara got more praises and now wishes to…uh,” Fingolfin’s voice trailed off, embarrassed to highlight his brother’s dire urgencies to perform.

“Show you just how skilled of a dancer I am.” The grip he held on your dress was used as leverage to tug you into his chest. One hand snaked around to press against your back and the other gripped both your hands to pry them off your chest. “I haven’t forgotten how much you used to tease me in the beginning, Y/N.”

Feeling the weight of his hands prying yours away from your chest, small peeks of your cleavage became visible to his naughty eyes. A lustful glint flashed at the reveal urging him to act without manners as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck. His teeth clamped down on your skin, leaving a sore bruise before his tongue swiped over the area to soothe the pain. This was just the first act of his performance, the next was his hands reaching for the rest of your dress and tugging it off your arms to pool around your waist.

Being distracted and lost in the pleasure of his delicate lips attaching your neck like some ferocious beast, you were caught off guard when he peeled the rest of your dress off to gather around your waist. Knowing that you would sense your semi–nudity, your arms were hitched around his neck to entangle in his luscious curls while he continued to lavish your neck, switching from side to side and moving lower. With every swipe of his tongue against your clavicle, your fingers curled into his tresses and tugged with anticipation.

Gone were the negative thoughts about sleeping with them and hello to the excitement.

Panting from the hurried movements of Finarfin as he eagerly nipped and kissed your skin, you felt another presence from behind. It was Fingolfin with his hands raised to unbound your braids and remove the hairpins. He was stealthy as he elegantly unloosened your braids and allowed your hair freedom. Once that was completed, his fingers traced your neck, loving the way you shivered and arched into his brother’s mouth, and moved down your spine until he arrived at your dress.

You felt the hesitation as though he was waiting for you to object, it was a split second of a moment before he regained confidence and pushed it off your waist. Falling to the fall like silk, your dress pooled at your feet and bared your naked form to either brother. There was an intake of breath, and you knew it came from Fingolfin since Finarfin was busy kissing around your breast, contemplating which side to indulge first.

“See something you like?” you squeezed out airily, eyes closed and sensing his intense gaze was on your entire body, mentally cherishing the image to use for later purposes.

With a reserved laugh, he stepped forward and placed his hands on your hips, allowing his body to stand closer to yours and letting you feel his heat. He was naked, entirely. The weight of his hands against your hips felt sturdy while the heat radiating was scorching. You felt the entire outline of his physique with only a few inches of spacing between you both; you could only imagine what he would feel like with no crevice. God, you couldn’t imagine what the weight of him on you would be like given his towering and slightly muscular figure. You couldn’t wait to feel both of them naked and pressed against you.

Joining his brother, his lips swiftly returned to your neck to litter and array of wet kisses, creating a curve with them and inching down your spine. “I love everything I’m seeing here,” he whispered into your skin as he positioned himself on his knees.

On the other end, Finarfin took to opportunity to finally break away from your breast, leaving his artwork evident—able to contest with the greatest artists—to undress. His eyes darted from your face contorting into pleasure to witness his brother kneeling behind you, worshipping your form. Had he not been compassionate, he would have denied his brother a chance to share you among them both. Shaking his head at how ravenous Fingolfin appeared, he reached for his robes and shoved them off haphazardly, followed by his tunic, shirt, boots and leggings until he left standing bare. Lifting his hand for the gold hairpin, his tangled curls came unbound and cascaded in a mess.

His sinful gaze returned to your figure. Hands curled around Fingolfin’s wrists on your waists, head tossed back, lips parted and breasts perky, you looked like a five–course meal waiting for him to devour.

“Why don’t we move this to the bed? It’s much more comfortable,” suggested Finarfin. He stood with one hand tossing his hair over his shoulder and the other leading to stroke his leaking cock.

Snapping your eyes open to gaze at the enchanting figure before you; you weren’t sure if you were able to tear your eyes away. This was the last image you would expect from the youngest to bear, let alone his physique. What the hell was in the water they drank? Were they willing to share some?

It didn’t help when your eyes followed the motion of his hands, knowing he was spitefully goading, to where it met his cock, giving it a few tugs and swiping the precum off to gain friction. You licked your lips. Was it normal to yearn for your best friend in such a manner, especially after seeing his member? Seeing a fair share of them before, his was substantially impressive and lovely to look at. Robust, curved, lengthy and how fortunate you were to bear witness to the rumours. The House of Finwe indeed loved the idea of breeding given the fruitfulness of his…ahem, balls.

It was impossible to not bite and lick your lips at the awareness of him being inside you.

Fainting at the notion was a great idea also since Fingolfin removed himself off his knees and guided you to the bed, giving you a perfect view of his delectable proportions. Seeing was far better sensing his physique. The one thing that made Fingolfin stand out more than his brother was the girth and texture. And now that both brothers stood side by side, towering above your smaller figure, you felt every nerve in your body tingling. Your heart surged to great heights, as did your breathing; lip biting and licking, you squeezed your thighs together as the growing sensation seeped through your fold and stained your inner thighs. There was a waterfall gushing out gallons per second between your legs the longer to stared and made comparisons to induce your light–headedness.

Your toes curled into the carpet, digging away at the plushness underneath your feet at the journey you were about to participate in. Not waiting for motivation, you made the first move to drag your body further up the bed only to be stopped by the gentle hands of the younger tugging you back down to the edge and sliding them higher your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he was enticed by it plumpness before settling on your hips. Fingolfin stepped aside to perch on the bed and settle behind you on his knees, aware of the position his brother would soon have you in. It wasn’t always that Fingolfin gave his brother the opportunity to take the lead in whatever activities they tag–team in, but given the advantages, he was willing to submit just once under his brother’s command.

“Would you be a dear and turn over for me, least you wish I flip you over myself. I haven’t any problem showing off my recently acquired strength,” he sweetly asked, looking up from the newly seated position on being on his knees. It wasn’t odd seeing him like this after the numerous moments he have gotten down to lace your boots, but currently, with the miniature shocks of your pulse radiating in the core of your cunt, you could enjoy this sight more often.

However, your moment of idling and dwelling on the situation led to his ever–impatient nature to react before being a gentleman. Flipped onto your stomach with hands roughly positioning you into his desired spot, you came face to face with the godly sight of Fingolfin on his knees, ebony hair pouring down his chest to end at his waist and pulling back to reveal the spectacle of his highlight. With your body on its knees and braced by your hands, it was easy for you to reach out without any form of permission to trespass and grip the base of his cock to give a patronising stroke all the way to the tip where your thumb swiped the head.

Once his precum was collected, the temptress in you forced your eyes to meet his darkened gaze and licked his arousal off the tip of your finger. The eye contact you held made his knees buckle and his stomach clench. A hand shot out to entwine itself strategically and gave your head a yank closer to his aroused and awaiting cock to be put out of misery.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and put that smart mouth to use, see how much you’re smirking with my cock down your throat.” His words were final as his actions followed, inching your head closer for the tip to collide with the outer shape of your lips. You didn’t know he had such foul and debauching behaviour when he acted with a stick up his ass to grip his cock and trace your lips with his tip. Smearing the remaining precum across the surface, he gave a sharp command to open your mouth and slid his cock against your tongue, hissing.

Both hands now nestled in your head, guided your movements as you bobbed back and forth along his length. It was impossible to take him whole, even fit most of his girth within your mouth. The texture of his veins sliding under your tongue was enough to send him insane. The most you were able to do with him governing his pleasure was leave him to his devices while he worked your mouth like a toy.

On the other, little impatient Finarfin wasn’t waiting another second longer and approached the edge of the bed to run his slender fingers against the back of your thighs. The little jolts and shudders the closer he arrived at your centre thrilled and satisfied him to know that soon your focus would be placed on his tongue. While Fingolfin was known for his more dominant approach, Finarfin’s approach, still dominant, was rather a service towards the pleasure of the body. He preferred to gain his pleasure while being in control but focused on providing service to his partners' pleasure, and he knew just what to do in order to have your attention.

You felt his breath and knew what followed. The motion of his tongue trailing along the outer lips and skin of your cunt, nipping and kissing before arriving at his destination. The first flick upon your clit was light, too gentle to feel anything and to catch you off guard with the rough action of his enter mouth trapping your bud. Vigorously he suckled and sent vibrations through your body, shaking his mop of golden curls as he lavished in the moment and your taste. You had nowhere to run to when his hands snatched your thighs and pinned you in your spot for Eru knew how long.

The best you were able to do was moan on Fingolfin’s cock, prompting the older male to yank your head off and gift you a moment to breathe before resuming the position. On one end you were giving and on the other, you were receiving—what a time to be alive and best friends with the Noldorin Princes. Eru bless your soul for managing to capture their attention from childhood and remaining close or this moment would have never manifested. Whatever you had done to warrant this, even if a manual was being gifted to warn you ahead, you would have flung it out the window and proceeded without caution. There wasn’t any need when the trouble was so deliciously satisfying and blissful.

Naturally, your legs parted and back ached to grant Finarfin better accommodation as his tongue worked on overtime. The fluid flicks of his tongue running over your sweet bundle of nerves before he engulfed the entire bud into his mouth were wicked. He should be charged for such a sinister crime. Nevertheless, the same could be said as Fingolfin’s hips began moving and hands stabilising your head to make way for a clear path. Your mouth was messy and your eyes teary and to him, you looked divine. There wasn’t a better look that suited you more, perhaps having you riding him could challenge the sight.

It was impossible to remain focused as the expertise of either male was challenging one another. The louder your moans became; it was obvious one wished to be the cause of those horrendous sounds escaping. It only urged both males to persist.

“Come on love, I know you sound louder than that,” encouraged Finarfin, eager to be the creator of your latest instrumental. Lifting his left hand off your thigh he brought it down to leave a resounding slap and elicited a choked moan on his brother’s cock. Grinning into your cunt, he hummed pleased at the reaction and continued.

The combination of your choked sobs being emitted and moans all over Fingolfin’s cock was a triumph for the goldened hair youngling. The pleasure was satisfactory for the older but too much at the same time as it forced his balls to clench with forewarning of his orgasm building earlier than expected. With a dreadful yank of your head off his cock, a string of saliva connected the tip to your swollen lips. His urge to just kiss you at the moment was dire and disconnected from your keenness to continue toying with his member.

Right hand out and gripping the base, you caught him off guard and left him unsure of your future sequence. All he could do was stare with a stiffened stomach in anticipation as you shut your eyes attempting to focus while his brother ruined you. At some point when you awoke, you tossed your head to the right and peeked up at him through your lashes once your lips came in contact with his tip once more. Placing what little knowledge you learnt from the rumours, your wrist flicked, and your head bobbed in sync, taking half of him into your mouth.

“You seem to like that, don’t you?” you whispered teasingly before throwing a wink and resuming your ministrations, leaving him without a chance to respond sensibly. His deep groans ricocheted and vibrated in his chest, a sound unlike any other you had heard. You did that, you made the stoic prince crumble under your tongue; something to tease him with for eternity, and should he wish for your silence, there were ways to be treated.

Glancing at the sight of his stomach clenched and beads of perspiration running down his washboard abs was sinful. Thanks to the sight, Finarfin was blessed with the sudden downpour of more arousal trickling into his mouth. The image of this male before you, commanding and unmoving with his presence being diminished to a whimpering state with only the use of your tongue was power unlike any other. The soft whimpering and body arching backwards the more your mouth slid deeper, taking your time to fit as much into your mouth left him weakened.

Topped with the wicked intentions of the youngest plunging his tongue like sword in and out your entrance, swirling and lavishing every inch, it contributed to the vibrations Fingolfin was receiving. No longer did his hands guide your head, but rather made the option to run along your back to add a touch of stimulation. He left you to take control and run your tongue along each of his veins, mapping out the shape and weight of his member with your mouth. You had seemed to be relishing the freedom that he allowed, the most he could do in return was assist in your pleasure while his brother’s golden head was busy at the other end.

Fingernails scraping along your back, you shivered and bowed into the bed against his touch. Something about his actions and his brother’s forced the sensitivity of your skin to heighten tremendously. You felt as though you were in a tumultuous battle, and you were only on the first round.

“Enjoying yourself Ara?” Fingolfin hummed as his fingers reached your ass and rubbed the flesh, enticed by the smoothness and how it moved under his touch. All the while his brother’s response was a focused hum due to his mouth being busy against your heat.

Straightening up to take another look at your mouth, he was lucky to catch another wink from you as you pulled off to stroke him with your hand. Sliding his long fingers upwards until they cradled your head, he rolled it around, running his fingers through your scalp and enjoying the sighs being emitted. “Quite the little worker, aren’t you? Enjoying yourself?” he inquired with inaudible moans.

Hush–hush muttering evaded your lips as you were confused between which to focus on, his fingers in your hair, the hand around his length or the ludicrous sensation of Finarfin’s mouth engulfing your entire clit and turning the nub into a pacifier. Trembling and bucking away from the stimulation, you were still entrapped in Fingolfin’s hold, unable to move an inch away from the onslaughter. Even he was laughing at the crooked position your body fell into in the attempt to shut your legs and curl away. Luckily Finarfin’s hands perched on your thighs were also immobilising you.

“Trying to run away so soon Y/N? I thought you wanted this?” Fingolfin teased and leaned down to nudge your head upwards to meet his lips for a sweet and daring kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. Lips moving out of sync, it was easy for him to still manage to capture your lips and pry them open to slip a tongue in and take your breath away. Suddenly, you felt the inclusion of his hands around your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to make your head spin.

The combination left you intoxicated as his mouth feverishly worked against yours with the same motion of his brother’s mouth on your cunt. In sync like there was some mental link shared, they kissed your lips with passion that left you in a daze. Light squeezed placed on your neck for every whine you made, Finarfin on the opposite end was rewarded with the tension of your walls around his tongue. He couldn’t wait to feel it on his cock soon.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted breaking away from his lip and curling your toes into the pleasure as it built and Finarfin’s mouth refused to stop. “Don’t s–…stop!”

Chuckling against your clit at your begs, he saw no need to refuse your wishes when you eagerly displayed wanting more. Hands digging into your flesh, he pulled you back to rest atop his face without care for his livelihood. He would enjoy nothing better than being suffocated as you came on his face and flooded his mouth with your arousal, which was the endpoint he was attempting to achieve with the feverish motions of his mouth. Suckling away as though he wanted to milk everything out of you, he gave you no moment to recuperate as you twisted and turned against his mouth.

“A–…Ara, f…uck!” stammering away, no longer were your hand gripping Fingolfin’s cock but focused on tearing the bedsheets apart, your back arched and pushed you into his mouth more. “Right there…right—ach!”

The waves of vibration crashing into your body at the speed of light were immeasurable and even so, unspeakable. Your grips against the bed sheet left a loud shred, gone unheard and unnoticed by everyone who were focusing on your body curling into itself. If you could have given a medallion to Finarfin for his enthusiasm you would because he didn’t seem to understand your hypersensitivity the way his mouth refused to take a break from your cunt. Even with his tongue taking leisurely strolls through your fold to collect any arousal, he was hungry with the gesture. Pushing your hands behind you to nudge his head away was the only route to get him to stop.

“Ah,” he sweetly charmed, unphased by the damage caused. “Forgive me, I got a little carried away.” Mouth and cheeks glossed with your arousal, he wore it like a lipstick and treated it like his drug.

“Carried away is too simple of a term brother,” added Fingolfin as he released you and placed his attention on the youngest. “I would say, fascinated or purposefully not wanting to stop.”

Sharing a brotherly moment, laughing away at the mess they turned you into while you lay drenched in sweat on the bed, they also exchanged their following advances. Gentle muttering filled the air with explanations of how they were going to handle you now that the main course was ready to be indulged. While they held their private meeting, you could sense the wandering hands of the obvious, squeezing and massaging the flesh on your thighs and ass. Almost with a child–like wonder, light slaps came down to meet your ass and paused to admire the jiggle. You had no intention of lifting your head to take a peek at the ethereal figure and mischievous devil deciding who would go first or at the same time. All you wanted to do was feel something in you other than Finarfin’s tongue for a while.

“How long though?” Fingolfin’s voice sliced through the air, disrupting the ambience.

“What do you mean, “How long”? We broke classes, there’s no returning,” clarified Finarfin nonchalantly as he rubbed his palm over your ass and gave it squeezes like an orange. He couldn’t help but bite his lips at the gesture, appreciating the sight and gift of being given the opportunity.

“Speak for yourself, brother—”

“Well if you’re so terrified of Lady Ancalmaril and father, return and leave Y/N and I to our fun. Your inconsequential abilities would not be judged, brother…” With his voice dripping with nihilism, Finarfin didn’t stop to throw an egotistical grin at his elder before continuing, “Or you can stay and enjoy the once–in–a–ifetime opportunity to share Y/N with me!”

Scoffing at the absurdity his brother was spouting, he challenged, “Once in a lifetime? What makes you believe there would not be an opportunity spent between Y/N, privately?”

“The fact that you aren’t an excellent dancer and would prefer to run back to our instructor to perfect your moves, tells me that this might be once in a lifetime. Unless…” Finarfin goaded, grinning nihilistic and darting his eyes towards your body, travelling over every curve until he met your eyes that lacked fear, but interest.

Easily falling for the bait like he did with every argument between him and Feanor, Fingolfin inched forward with his chin raised high and accepted. “Accepted.”

“Splendid!” With his hands clasped before him, Finarfin grinned triumphantly from ear–to–ear and refocused his gaze on you. “The plans have changed due to my brother’s fear of poor performance…and being caught. So now, we have an ongoing competition to decide who’s the more skilful dancer of the two. Would you be so kind to judge us as we take turns?”

Eyes widening at the declaration, unexpectedly, this was the last thing you assumed the outcome of their argument would land you in. “Um, I thought I was taking you both,” your voice dipped and became softer under the enigmatic stare of Finarfin, “at the same time.” Ending your statement, you turned to gaze at Fingolfin who whipped his head to meet your pensive stare and offer a heartwarming smile. His hand reached out to stroke your head, reassuring you that all was well.

“Err,” hissing at the suggestion, from the very start Ara knew that he and his brother wouldn’t be able to share you at the same time given their nature. Already having decided that they would have taken turns, just not with this intention. “Apologies if you had assumed that, but, um…háno and I weren’t originally intending to have you at the same time,” he awkwardly laughed and itched the back of his head.

“Consider it as two extremely different dominant males wanting to share. Yes, I know,” winced Fingolfin, “it’s not the best comparison, but it’s sort of the situation between us. Uncooperative.”

Falling into a seated position, you tucked your legs under and faced perpendicular to both males. “So you two would fight over who gets to…I see. But can you at least try at the same time…for me. I’d be able to judge better, and should it not work out, we can always go again but according to your wishes.”

Finarfin was the first to open his mouth and snap his eyes to his elder for confirmation. Throwing in an uneasy itch to his forehead, he bared his teeth in a cumbersome manner at Fingolfin for him to hurry up with a solution, knowing that the decision was being made according to his taste in intimacy. “Brother.”

For a moment Fingolfin had shut his eyes to concentrate on the words being directed to him and the possible outcome of the situation. Tongue kissing his teeth, he glanced at you first and then back to his brother with an expressive sigh. “As much as I hate the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone, if weren’t going to be judged fairly, might as well take the risk of playing dirty,” he announced, shuffling off the bed and coming to stand at the foot. “I’ll take the end; you take the lead since the bet was yours.”

“Are you—Are you sure about this?” Finarfin whispered as he stepped closer to his brother, shorter by only an inch or two yet equally defined in nature to match the robustness of the elder. “You’ve once expressed your unappealing interest in—”

“Relax,” ushered Fingolfin with a hand to his brother’s arm. “Our focus is this competition, or I’ll be sent back to Lady Ancalmaril for practice. Now take your position or I start without you.”

Accepting his words as a challenge, the fire within his heart was set ablaze and the dedication known within the House of Finwe was pronounced. Smirking at his encouragement, Finarfin turned to shuffle onto the bed and informed you to clamber atop him as he moved to lie on his back. Immediately, his arms encircled your waist and adjusted your legs on either side of his body to his liking. You now sat directly upon his cock, pressing and leaking against your cunt and mixing with your arousal which made him shudder at the sight. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, he flashes his signature smile before reaching down to pull you into a breathtaking kiss.

His lips enthusiastically met yours and sucked you into a deep spell to distract you from the intrusion of something wet being rubbed around your ass. As much as you tried to break the kiss to witness what was happening back there, he kept your head within his hands and lips locked against his so he could slip his tongue in. It was no joke that both brothers were excellent kissers, sucking the air out of your lungs like there was no tomorrow. His kiss was feverish and worked in tune with the frantic motion of his hands running along your spine, arching your breasts into his chest to feel the wonderfulness of your hardened nipples against his cool skin.

Unexpectedly, the minute Finarfin pulled away to break the kiss and travelled to your neck, the intrusion of something sharp with a slight burn happened. You didn’t expect it to feel like you were being split in half, but when you remember what his cock looked and felt like, it all made sense to feel that way. Your breath was caught in your throat the more he slid in, pushing inches of him deeper until he came to an abrupt stop, and you felt a hand gripping you by the throat and yanking you out of Finarfin’s grasp to meet his rock–hard chest. The look of annoyance on his brother’s face was priceless as he visibly sagged.

“I need you to breath for me, Y/N,” he panted laboriously into your ear. “You’re squeezing me here…”

You didn’t expect him to moan so sinfully into your ear, wet lips touching the shell and breathing against it. His hand remained firmly around your neck, giving a gentle squeeze as he waited for you to relax. “Come on love, breath for me. Just like that…good girl,” he commended before easing the rest of the way in until he bottomed out. “You’re doing so well for me.”

Kissing the shell of your ear as he remained still, his lips ran along the length of your neck until he came to the same spot where Finarfin was about to kiss.

“What a killjoy you are, indeed, brother,” Finarfin snapped, clearly irritated and ready to snatch you out of his brother’s hold. “Lift her a bit, please.”

Following the order, Finarfin was able to cease the moment he had been waiting for from the very start of the day and run the tip of his cock through your folds before he was wrapped around your warmth. Golden curls haphazardly lying across the bed, he looked like he was transcended into heaven at the enclosure of your warmth and tightness, even the slight texture of his brother’s cock through the thin barrier added stimulation, but none topped your grip. You were holding to him for dear life as though he would slip out and the fingers digging into your hips were evidence.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Eru, Y/N! What the hell are you doing to me?!” he shouted with the feeling of his head being squeezed with every passing second. The sounds of his pathetic whines could compete with yours the longer he remained buried in you unmoving. The pressure was immeasurable, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold out as planned to demonstrate his skills and take the win, but he was damn sure he wasn’t going down with making a move.

The paralysing sensation of being trapped in Fingolfin’s sturdy arms while he was panting against your neck as his brother breached and the sudden tightness escalated was hot. You didn’t know a man could sound so sexy when he struggled to compose himself due to the overwhelming pressure. Loving the feel of what your body could do, through the feeling of being stuffed, you managed to clench your muscles for playful intentions and clamped them even tighter than they could imagine. It was then you discovered your playtime was over and you were now in their playing field.

The hand around your neck tightened and a firm tug was given, “You thought that was funny, didn’t you?” he groaned and began gyrating his hips to open you up some more. “You enjoy laughing at us a lot and goading…I would like to see you do that when we’re through with you.”

It was as though a snap was heard at the sound of his words before you were pushed into Finarfin’s hold, still held onto and balancing on your hands, as the sensation of their cocks moving at the same pace occurred. You didn’t understand what was happening at first as the first slide of their robust cock moved in sync, slowly, to induce your cries. Your body trembled and pushed into the motion, wanting more when you could only take so little. Their weight and length combined were too much for your insides to take, but your mind was goading you into being delusional about taking more than you could handle.

The sensation was rippling across your body when they switched up their pace, Fingolfin and Finarfin out, pounding away at your insides and rearranging what little of you was left. You didn’t know if they were attempting to get you under their control, but there wasn’t the need for such dedication when you already were from the first slide in. Your insides were crying from the frantic and fervent thrusting they each delivered, each carrying its own signature. Fingolfin had the power to knock the very wind out of your chest while Finarfin had technique as his gifted curvature of a cock was able to reach that one spot and make you see stars within the first few thrusts.

Scrambling to grip the bedsheets beside his head, careful not to tug on his curls, your back was painfully being arched to properly meet the powerful and sturdy thrusts of the ebony–haired God from behind. His cock bullied your insides, sliding in and out gracefully alongside his devoted brother who made use of your well–formed position to purposefully make you fold into his arms.

“Are you laughing now, Y/N?” the ebony–haired elf behind you asked, fingers curling around your neck to experience your walls squeezing him and his brother so perfectly. “Come on love, make a little sound.”

Heading you with his self–confident grin, the last look you would expect to witness on his face as he enjoyed the sensation of finally being able to shut you up. Much to your wishes, you truly couldn’t say much from all the differences you were experiencing at the same time. Were you supposed to bark, scream, howl, mewl, meow? You didn’t know what sound to make but it surely wasn’t laughter.

Impatient at the length of time you were taking to respond, Fingolfin tugged your head backwards to meet his darkened eyes and ignored the discomforting arch he placed you in. Leaning in to ghost his lips over yours, he irritated, “You have something you want to tell us, darling? Just a little sound, a laugh perhaps, princess.”

At the end of his words there was a dark chuckle falling from the lips of another you wouldn’t expect it from. The sensation of his teasing hands sliding off your waistline and rushing between your bodies latched onto your clit and rolling it between his fingers, earned them the songs they wanted. “That’s more like it,” he praised and continued twirling it around, marvelling at the jolts in your body. “If we’re going to be performing our best, you should give us your best screams.”

Your lungs felt like they were ready to give out from the laborious panting. Your chest heaved like you were catch in a fight for your life. Two ferocious males trapped in your garden of Eden and doing their best to make paradise. Whimpering out his name as he chastised you, your eyes crossed at the random switch up of their dynamics. “Ñ-Ñolo, too d–deep. Slo–...Slow down ughhh!”

It was all fun and games for them as they pushed and pulled against your muscles, loving the natural stimulation your body provided to them whenever they applied pressure the right way. A clench around their cock here and there and the beautiful sight of your lips gripping their cock, never wanting them to leave. To put the cream atop their cake, you ensured that every time Finarfin entered and left, you smeared your cream around his cock, a sight that became visible to his brother and left him eager to make his cock appear the same with his cum.

The turbulent tugging of their cock abusing your insides, battering against your sweet spot and moulding your insides to remember their shape was knocking you off your feet. Your head was swimming in the pool of ecstasy and feeling dumbfounded by their cocks. Such weight and robustness, placing more pressure on the inner walls led them to be held in such vice grips, almost inescapable. For a moment, they could have swore they were being sucked in on their own without making a single thrust. Just the marvelous beauty of what you were capable of—the perfect reason to keep wanting more. Your essence was a drug they got hooked on the deeper they travelled.

You couldn’t believe that you had managed to have two Princes wrapped around your finger like this, desperate to prove who was the best fuck. It was even fortunate to learn that you hadn’t a clue who would win when all you were focused on was the need to cum. Your fingers curling into the sheets, tugging aggressively and adding smaller fissures into the tears already left was noticed by Finarfin. His blue eyes twinkled at the sight of the sheet being torn and laughed at your intensity. When he assumed he was being too much, here you were, demolishing the palace property.

“You’re so needy, Y/N,” he commented. “Look at how desperately you’re behaving over our cocks. Is that any way for a Lady to behave?”

“S–Shut up—ah!” Your eyes rolling into your head at the sudden pinch to your clit was a silent warning to be nice. Following the actions of his brother, Fingolfin dipped his head to your spine and left a trail of kisses along your sweaty skin and mutely laughed at your squirming. Yet, he refused to stop when he enjoyed your reactions. “Too much, Ñolo!”

“Too much? I thought you wanted the both of us, love.” Reaching his other hand afront to grope at your breast and tweak your nipples, he pretended to act innocent as he repeated the same thing to the other side. “Is this too much, or do you want more?” Whining as he pinched and tugged at your nipples, rolling the buds around his fingers, it didn’t help when Finarfin stretched his neck to latch his mouth to the free nipple and gave a harsh suck.

“Ah, fuck, fuck! Come on, come on, come on—ngghh!” You tossed your head backwards and knocked it against Fingolfin’s shoulder at the relentless onslaughter you chose to suffer. Eru. This was a mixture between a massacre and paradise. The urge to push them away but pull them closer was confusing when the pleasure was beyond breathtakingly euphoric. You were being tormented and pleasured at the same time.

Swirling his tongue around your nipple, Finarfin was having a ball of a time driving you insane alongside his brother. Biting and flicking the nub, he moved in sync with his fingers as they rubbed at your bundle of nerves, desperately, to get you off. Both he and Fingolfin could already sense it, your high was close to the increase in your moans and the incomprehensible nonsense you were muttering. Nothing that tumbled from your lips was their tongue or any tongue for a matter of fact. They couldn’t tell if you were here among them or elsewhere, all they knew was that you were close and ready to wrap them in an infinite warmth they couldn’t find anywhere else.

Holding onto you as the pressure increased and your pitch grew, your hands flew from the bedsheets to latch onto Fingolfin’s hair, giving his firm tugs. With immediate response, he removed his hand around your neck and rushed to cup your lower abdomen, pressing his hand against the protruding bump and adding stimulation to your sweet spot.

“Ooooh! Fuck! Right thereee—” whining at the additional touch of stimulation, your body bowed into his chest and away from Finarfin’s lips as a wave of pleasure manifested and rocked your body violently, sending you into another realm and back with a blank expression.

Your body lulled in his arms while still being pleasured by them, though, had it not been for the out–of–body experience, the sounds of groaning being emitted from Finarfin first would not have reached your ears. His hips twitched and spasmed, hands gripping his hips leaving indents of his position as he felt the heat that was pooling in his stomach becoming unbearable. It wasn’t much he could do to hold out before the stillness of his hips and head being flung into the depths of the mattress as he released a mellow groan at the flooding of his cum in your walls. Aware of the aftermath of both you and his brother, Fingolfin took it upon himself to gently withdraw his cock from your body whilst keeping your body within his hold and jerking himself to finish. He wasn’t far behind his brother, only the motion of a few fancy flicks of his wrists and firm squeezes to the base of his cock before a deeper grunt was emitted and the clear signs of his cum sprayed across the base of your spine and your ass.

Allowing you to fall atop Finarfin, Fingolfin was quick to throw his body next to you two as he found himself feeling slightly energetic instead of weary. Glancing over to catch sight of you two, he caught your eyes giving him a hazy look and a lopsided grin while Finarfin was staring at the canopy, out of it. The silent ambience washed over your three, already forgetting that an hour had more than passed and you three were in for it whenever you returned.

A lazy hand from Fingolfin joined his brother’s and rubbed your back in a soothing circle, basking in the aftermath of your bliss. Though he was the first to break the comforting silence. “How are you feeling?”

Your lips stretched into a Cheshire grin, prompting you to lift your head off Finarfin’s chest and laugh. “Honestly, it was better than expected,” you started, watching the brothers’ faces lift into pleased smiles at your compliment, “but I believe I still have enough energy for another round.”

Finarfin’s face was the first to fall into a knowing expression. “Couldn’t choose a winner?”

“Maybe,” you mused and rolled off Finarfin to lie in the middle of both brothers. “But as far as I’m aware, I can’t get enough of either of you.”

Face morphing into a smug expression, Fingolfin bit his lips at the idea of spending more time than he originally planned, to prove himself skilled. “Well, I can’t complain about this route, at least I’ll be showing off my dancing skills I’ll be demonstrating again for the ball.”

“Who knows, perhaps another dance like this might occur on the night. I say let us spend the rest of the day practising,” suggested the Finarfin, rotating his body to inch closer to yours and already placing a hand on your thigh.

“Splendid idea. Let us not waste a second then.”

Masterlist

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