#cw minor exploitation

[2802t]

lee taeyeon, a comprehensive career timeline (debut (2016) — 2019), pt. i

2016

the first year of indigo's lifespan feels a little bit like something taeyeon only half-experiences, but that probably has more to do with the sleep deprivation than the objective surrealism of it all. overnight, it seems, he's catching kids in the hallways at school taking pictures of him through classroom windows, whenever time allows for him to physically show up, swarmed by people in passing who might have otherwise only spared him a glance. on-screen, when the music videos and performances have all been done and dusted and they're marketing themselves on variety shows, he's not entirely sure what he's doing, but it seems to be working. he's naive, gives too much of himself over for consumption, and it leaves too little room for separation between lee taeyeon, the person and lee taeyeon, the face of indigo. he's loved, undoubtedly, and rises to a level of popularity that no teenager is equipped to handle, but he's so incredibly tired that he doesn't even have the bandwidth to process it. they're four releases deep before the end of the year. taeyeon keeps going.

he doesn't think he ever cries quite as hard as he does when their work pays off in recognition during award ceremonies. it all happens so quickly and maybe it's awe, dread, on tougher days, that washes over him when he realizes that it's only just begun.

highlights: album of the year, artist of the year, best male group at multiple award shows; record amount of music show wins with growl; special host on multiple episodes of weekly idol

2017

still rookies, despite the massive success they achieved so early on, the year after debut becomes one crafted with the intent of solidifying their position as a critically acclaimed and highly anticipated boy group among a growing sea of competition. as the face of the group and the de facto representative in all matters not covered by their leader, taeyeon is held up, bounced around from place to place for everyone to see with "indigo" in massive letters across his forehead. of course, he's not always alone, oftentimes appearing on variety shows and at brand events alongside another member, but when he is, it feels intentional. for half the year, there's hardly any schedule that management says "no," to, the rare occasion being conflicts with group promotion. he takes his job seriously, shoves any wayward stress to the deep recesses of his mind, eats when he can and puts a smile on his face because it's the least he can do.

every day he's reminded of how many people would kill to be in his position, would kill to be any one of the members, and aren't your members working hard, too, lee taeyeon? should the world stop turning for you?

there are ways around exhaustion, humanity. he learns.

highlights: law of the jungle, music bank mc, host of mbc gayo daejejeon, various one-off variety show appearances and commercial brand endorsements, first solo magazine cover

2018 - 2019

if you were to ask taeyeon what these two years of his life encompass, he'd probably answer with something like in-flight movies and falling asleep during english classes, but, to the common outsider, 2018 and 2019 are the years that truly globalize indigo. they also happen to serve as a point in time where all pretenses are abandoned and taeyeon's impending adulthood makes him free game.

publicly, he gets painted as a noona lover, scripted to flirt with women twice his age on tv shows, fully grown into his looks and unprotected in all the ways that matter. he doesn't think much of it, not really, flirting has always been apart of the job, but then his body becomes the focus. he's pushed to diet, told to cut down on how much he eats to chisel out; told to work out so he'd be toned enough to wear flowy shirts and crop tops. as much as he's always been, he is commodified and rebranded, an early pivot from the charming, mischievous little boy he'd been thus far to a man.

he has an early birthday. they celebrate with blood sweat and tears.

highlights: lyrical and compositional credits on wings album (intro: boy meets evil, lie, MAMA, cypher 4, 21st century girl), cast as "ato" in the miracle we met, viral fancam

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 — 𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆. ˒ ⊹

syn. you think jealousy is a good look on aventurine. too bad he has to remind you that you belong to him, and him only. (1.8k) pair. aventurine x f!reader cw. jealous aventurine my beloved / fem-aligned reader / pet names used: pretty girl, doll, angel, princess, good girl / oral (f!receiving) / fingering / teasing and begging / prone bone / spanking (like.. one time) / p in v penetration / creampie / multiple rounds are insinuated. teehee. love, oak! loooorrrrrdddddd aventurine. i've been obsessed w him since he was mentioned in topaz's quest ♡. about to start the penacony quest now, i'm literally buzzing w/ excitement over seeing him!!!!!!!

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

aventurine thinks he can be a little bit... petty, sometimes.

but of course, who wouldn't be, when one sees some random stranger putting their hands all over what's theirs?

so obviously, aventurine does the one thing he does best.

put on a show.

"hey, pretty girl," aventurine drawls, sidling up to you as he slides an arm around your waist. the grip he has on your hip is near-bruising, the only indication that he was currently ticked off. "you tired of this bar yet? i'd like to leave soon." his voice is a soft croon as he brings his lips to your ear, warm breath brushing the sensitive skin there. "i've got better things for us to be doin' in mind."

you gasp, playfully slapping his chest. your attention is completely off the man you were just chatting up, and aventurine shoots him a lazy grin. the man merely grumbles and leaves.

it makes him feel pure satisfaction, really.

aventurine turns you in his grip so that you're chest to chest with him—forces you to tilt your head back to look up at him. he smiles prettily down at you, as if he weren't just scheming to whisk you away from all the attention you were just receiving.

"better things, huh?" you say, glossy lips forming a matching grin to his as you look up at the blond. "like what? that man was just about to buy me a drink, you know. how're you gonna make up for that?"

he nearly lets his perfect mask slip—a twitch of his eyebrow is all you notice. but he tilts his head, looks down at you with those pretty lavender eyes of his.

"oh doll, if you wanted a drink, why didn't you just say so?"

your eyes gleam with mischief. you trail your fingers up his chest, your lips pursing in a pout.

"it's more fun charming a guy into buying it.." you sigh dramatically.

"who says you haven't charmed me?"

"no one. everyone knows i've already got you wrapped around my finger."

he can't argue with that. no, he can't argue with the irrefutable truth.

because you do. he's wrapped around your pretty little finger, and you know it. you exploit it. he doesn't mind, though.

aventurine doesn't deal with what doesn't pay off. and in the end, a pretty thing like you always does.

so he smiles again, tilting your chin up with a gloved finger. he lets a little bit of the hunger he feels shine in his eyes—he basks in the way your eyes shutter, your red-painted lips parting slightly.

“how about this, then—will you let me charm you, pretty?” he purrs, thumb coming up to gently tug at your bottom lip.

your throat bobs as you swallow. a shallow nod of your head follows—as much as he’ll allow while he grips your chin.

“good. you know how great i am at making your dreams come true, don’t you?”

there’s no room for debate there, nor does he give you any; aventurine’s smug demeanor is never undeserved, if the way he has you grasping the sheets of his bed later is concrete proof of that.

“’venturine,” you whine, back arching off the ruffled white sheets of the bed, “please, need you inside me, noooow.” the last word comes out in a long moan as his fingers stroke just the right spot inside of you. a flick of his tongue against your puffy clit draws a cry of pleasure from your lips.

he hasn’t even taken his clothes off yet, and he already has you a mewling mess for him. again, he feels that familiar sense of satisfaction flow through him.

aeons. he loved seeing you so debauched, flushed and squirming beneath him as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you.

“c’mon angel, one more time for me—you can do it, can’t you?”

the low drawl of his voice is drowned out by the lewd squelch of his fingers inside you, constantly moving and stroking your walls in just the way you liked it. at this rate, you were going to go insane, but you feel your climax cresting, rising up and up and up, until it comes crashing down with a particular crook of his fingers inside you. he doesn’t let up, doesn’t grant you any mercy as you sob and convulse with pleasure. “’venturineee!”

finally, finally, he stops, withdrawing his fingers (his sleeve is completely soaked with your essence, he notes smugly) and rising after a swift kiss to your sweet pussy. you lay there, a puddle of nerves still buzzing with pleasure.

the clink of his belt and the rustle of fabric falling to the floor, and then you’re being maneuvered so gently, rolled onto your front with large, gentle hands. there’s a pillow being slid under your hips, another for your pretty head, and then you feel the bed dip with the weight of aventurine settling into place right behind you.

you let out a soft cry as you feel the blunt head of his cock rub against your still too sensitive cunt, his hands gripping the plush globes of your ass as he spreads you for him. he loves the little sounds you make as he teases you, dipping the tip in but never quite going any farther than that.

no, he wanted to hear you beg for it.

“what do we say when we want something, princess?” aventurine hums, drawing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, achingly slow.

“oh,” you sigh sweetly. “need you to fuck me. please, ‘ven, need it so bad.”

your plea is like sugared candy on his tongue, a torturous substance he’s addicted to as he allows himself to slowly sink inside you. he takes his time—you’re whining and squirming beneath him, and he has to hold you still with firm hands—but only goes as far as an inch, shallowly moving his hips.

“like that?” he asks coyly.

you look over your shoulder to glare at him. at the nasty look you shoot him, his eyes narrow; he lifts a hand, only to bring it down on the sensitive skin on your ass. you let out a yelp.

“now, now, only good girls get what they want. you’re a good girl, aren’t ya?”

you respond with a desperate whine. aventurine knows when you’re reaching your limit though, and like the good person he is, he’s decided he’s had enough fun torturing you. besides, he’s nearing his own limit—the walls of your cunt just feel so delicious around him—and it’s taking a willpower of steel to not pound you into oblivion right then and there.

aventurine sighs dramatically, hands drifting up your spine, ghosting along your back. he likes the way you shiver beneath him, completely helpless to his whims. he’s quiet for a moment, drinking in the way you’re breathing harshly beneath him as he lets himself dip a little further into you, and then: “alright, i’ve teased you enough. you’ve been so good for me.”

the words are like music to your ears—as well as the only warning you receive before he’s gripping your hips, lifting and adjusting you so he hits just the angle he knows you like, and he starts a brutal pace that rips a harsh moan from your lips.

he’s absolutely unforgiving in the way he fucks you, but he knows it’s just the way you like it. searing, molten heat flows through your veins with every stroke, nerves like lightning as you’re overwhelmed with the all-consuming sensation of aventurine all over you. it’s not just the way he fucks you—the way he presses his chest to your back as his hips rut into you, the way he has you completely pinned, rough hands spreading you oh-so perfectly for him, the way his lips press to the nape of your neck, his breath ghosting along your skin as he groans, right up in your ear.

“fuck—you’re so fucking tight, pretty—yeah, you like this, don’t you? can feel you clenchin’ around my cock.” he makes a point to thrust his hips especially rough at the end of each sentence, coaxing a long, desperate moan from you. you’re mindlessly babbling at this point, barely able to form a coherent sentence as he fucks all sense of sanity from your head.

and when he snakes a hand around you, brushing down your navel towards the apex of your thighs, you let out a broken sob as deft fingers find your clit. paired with each perfectly aimed thrust, you’re coming undone beneath him in a matter of seconds, walls convulsing around him.

“where do you want me, angel?” aventurine coos in your ear. his voice is raspy, lust-drunk and breathy as he struggles to hold himself together, to stave off the orgasm he knows is imminent.

“inside,” you gasp out. “wan’ it inside!” your words slur together as he fucks you through your own orgasm. you feel electric as his hips start to stutter, your only other hint that aventurine is close, so so close, and you want him falling with you. so you clench the delicate muscles in your pelvis, walls fluttering around his cock so perfectly, it feels like life and death and infinity and oblivion all at once.

he presses deep inside you, holding you so tight to him as he cums, hard, just the way you wanted him to. you clutch the pillow under your head to ground yourself, muffling the moan you let out as his hips twitch and then eventually pull away, drawing himself out of you. the sensation makes you hiss softly, displeased at the empty feeling he leaves you with.

aventurine smiles at the sight—of you, blissfully fucked out on his bed, hips still slightly raised from the pillow as his cum drips out of you. it might’ve been obscene to some, but he was so utterly fucking obsessed with you that really, it’s got him ready to go for another round.

he only gives you a moment to catch your breath.

then you’re being flipped over, aventurine slotting himself between your legs, his already hard cock pressing against your messy cunt. he smiles down at you, a purely predatory look in his eyes as his gaze meets yours.

“don’t tell me you’re tired out already, princess,” he drawls, basking in the way your sleepy eyes widen with shock. “you’ve gotta cum at least a couple more times before i’m satisfied. i’m gonna make sure my name is the only one you remember, ‘kay?”

and as he slides into you, torturously slow, you realize that you might just be in for a long night.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[withlove-xixi]

— LAIOS NSFW THOUGHTS: laios x reader

ᥫ cw: nsfw, petplay, dom/sub, praise ★ laios appeals to me w the many possible sexual exploits he could be into #tbh — MINORS DNI! —

im sorry, i cant get it off my head .. he'd ... be really into petplay i think. he wouldn't be too ashamed of it too, in fact he's be pretty eager about it. he'd be on all fours and you could already see the imaginary tail eagerly wagging from behind him, and its endearing really. laios would love it if you pet his head or scratched his belly or even just combing through his hair. he wouldn't be against wearing a collar or some ears and a tail to complete the look (though i don't think he'd like being caged or leashed so much. something about feeling constricted too much freaks him out)

he's got that dog in him, what can he say?

oh he would absolutely melt too with praise. anything to let him know he's doing a good job, that you're feeling as good as he is. he loves it, before anything, it's reassurance, a sign to keep going or to change his pace/angle. he knows he's not the best at reading people, so something as simple as telling him how good it feels is enough to keep him going and going. though, immediately after reassurance, it's the unexplainable twist in his gut when you tell him these things. he just loves being called a good boy. argue what you want about if he'd growl or if he's whimper because the correct answer is he'd do both. i dont think he's particularly noisy in bed, but definitely he will make noise and when he does it's so obvious because he's just so loud. it's a bit jarring sometimes because he could be almost silent, save for deep breaths and pants, and suddenly a canine-like growl or whimper would escape his lips.

i like to think he's more or less quiet because he's just too focused on the act. any noise that slips out is simply primal response, written in laios' dna to respond so instinctively.

he's like petnames too! he finds a certain intimacy in the act. he loves calling you by them too, though they're quite unorthodox, things like "my wildflower" or "cheesecake" (since it's his favorite food!) he's definitely tried to call you by a monster's name ... and as sweet as the sentiment was, it wasn't something that lasted too long.

ohhh and back to petplay, laios loves being called "puppy". it's cute and honestly, he kind of is one, is he not?

i think laios can be a bit too excited sometimes too. it's easy for him to get carried away with things he wants to try or do, so you'd have to repeatedly ground him back to what's happening or what's reasonable. though it's not always a verbal cue. you could kiss him gently or pat his arm and he'd get the message, he'd slow down and give you time to breathe and stuff.

idk i think laios is a really sweet guy. similar to my falin nsfw thoughts, as much as he wants to try these new things, it's more out of curiosity and comes from a certain air of innocence. a lot of those things are new therefore something he must try lol. its endearing, it really is. but like his sister, i think he can be a bit timid about it. if he mulls it over too much, he'd end up shyly asking you about it, if it were something you were comfortable with or something you wanted to try. otherwise, he'd be asking you pretty directly, something straight to the point and along the lines of "i want to do this". that being said, i think laios could easily be coerced into trying things. you dont even need to bat your lashes or plead, if you play your cards right, you could instantly spark his curiosity and get him ready to take of his clothes.

oh but laios .. wouldnt be the best at aftercare. dont get me wrong, he tries his best, but somehow he feels a bit lost on what to do. on instinct he goes on autopilot, picking up clothes from the ground, handing you yours, getting dressed and preparing to sleep. but something sweet he does is talk to you though he'd do that regardless of sex. just something short and sweet before you go to bed, in a way, its his way of showing his love and care for you. he listens to what you have to say, he tells you something in return and then its off to bed with you both. it's nice especially if you two have finished doing something nasty, it's a slice of domesticity after something that feels so carnal and it's truly heartwarming.

[pigeonpeach]

More Arlecchino Husbandry!

Cw: implied violence or possible violence: FMAB reader! Reader is called mother! Slight yandere themes (not full on though)

summary: continuation of Arlecchino Husbandry with more of a domestic focus

To say the children were estatic to know you would be a permanent member of the house hearth and you are officially their mother is a understatement. They threw a party. Even those you haven’t raised and were already grown when you arrived can recognize your importance both to their siblings and to their father: needless to say you essentially have alot of bodyguards now. Each of those children are determined to keep you safe, both out of devotion and gratitude and because it was Arlecchino’s orders to do so. And so on.

As for Arlecchino she’s quite happy to have you. She keeps you in her office on your downtime, sat nicely on her lap as she goes through paperwork so your presence can keep her calm. Occasionally she’ll press a kiss to your neck. In moments like these you two often don’t speak, rather you may be knitting or reading s book or writting ideas down for fun activities for the kids.

Arlecchino despite her deep affections fory you however is a possessive lover at her core. You’re just so fragile in the grand scheme of things. The children are protectors but if another harbinger decided to pursue you there is little they could do besides awkwardly stand by you. She knows her colleagues too well. She knows they’ll see your big heart as a weakness of hers. She knows you’re her weakness now, and in the eyes of the other harbingers it’s something they could exploit if necessary. So she simply refuses to bring you around them. Besides very few are even good company. The only harbinger you might see is Childe when he is visiting fontaine. He’s friendly to you but respectful knowing the Knave likely wouldnt like it if he was flirty with her beloved. Even so all it took was seeing him in your general direction to make her tense. Shooting him a dirty look as she quickly pulled you to her side and cut the conversation short.

In that case Childe just got glared at and scolded because he is a harbinger, she can’t kill him for something so minor. But if it was someone else who doesn’t have that sort of protection then there’s no guarantee she won’t. I wouldn’t describe this as yandere but simply a part of her job. Again you are her weakness, she cannot risk people possibly taking you from her or using you to get to her. Because that is a legit fear for her to have. So everywhere you go a underling accompanies you. Often the twins. Lynette and Lyney because they’re quite sociable and its easy for you to forget they’re your bodyguards. The children actually are very eager to accompany you because such trips are often like a day out with their mom. Its not uncommon you’ll treat them to lunch and or go shopping with them. This actually works as well because it helps you blend in easily amongst the crowd too. Sometimes you’ll bring one of the actual children with you as a fun activity to reward them for hard work. Often times you take them to get some toys or something special.

These trips are great as well, your motherly demeanor towards Lyney and Lynette often does scare away suitors but if it doesn’t Lyney is quick to intervene. And if the suitor gets aggressive from their rejection then its nothing they can’t handle. If the guards aren’t available then they could always just… kill them you know. Granted you often discourage that with the excuse of wanting to avoid legal troubles. But its a possibility.

Arlecchino herself hardly takes you to balls, she is fiercely loyal to you still, even refusing to dance with others for respect for you. This is both because the kids don’t like when you leave, and again: she doesn’t want you to become a target or too infamous because of her. She wants to keep you safe and protected.

As for gifts you can trust she won’t let you down there. She is a incredibly observant person. She knows the exact flavors, styles, items, and colors you would like. She studies your tastes diligently. It also helps she has dozens and dozens of little informants who also know your tastes. If she notices you seem overworked she books you a luxurious spa session. If she notices you’re a bit insecure them she’ll make it a point to hold you and kiss each curve and crevice of your skin. She knows you don’t have extravagant tastes but you do like things of quality and meaning. And her gifts do have meaning. If you like knitting then she’ll purchase a set of the most soft and vibrant wool. If you like reading then she’ll keep an eye on exclusive or high demand books to get you. if you’re a artist then you can guarantee you’ll never be short on paints and ever work will be framed and displayed proudly.

Also in terms of gifts you are utterly spoiled not just by your husbandwifey but your kids. They bring you trinkets and souvenirs from across the world. Often based on things that remind them of you.

Arlecchino however is a busy woman. As a harbinger she deals with stressful situations and stressful meetings. And as her new bride you do have the expectation of tending to her. My advice is to simply let her lay her head on your shoulder or lap. Embrace her gently and don’t ask for details. More often then not she cannot tell you what exactly has happened but it’s usually frustration from dealing with the other harbingers. Usually the males. You’ve heard her grievances and slander of each male at this point. If you really want to help her relax then just smile softly and nod along. Your compliance and obedience is a well needed relief to her. Then tell her good news of the kids, how their skills have improved, etc.

When you’re upset on the other hand, maybe shaken up from a failed kidnapping/assassination attempt you can bet she’ll come to you quickly. She’s wiling to ditch a meeting if she thinks its that severe. Before she gets to you however, you can bet the kids will also comfort you. Often holding you and fiercely protecting you. When she gets there they leave to give you two privacy and to stand outside to make sure no one comes by. Upon which she will hold you tighter than you’re used to her. Her nails almost digging into your skin as she breathes heavily. She waits till you’re collected to ask for details and assures you the perpetrator will not be spared or shown a slight of mercy. All those involved will be hunted down and eliminated. Until then she will personally keep you by her side. With a voice surprisingly shakey, a sound only you will hear and ONLY you: she proclaims her utter devotion to you. She proclaims that she loves you in a soft voice. This softness and weakness is a rare sight, its only done to comfort you and when she’s quite alarmed herself.

[maximotts]

she hates her ⁘ w. maximoff x n. romanoff

brainrot is real and dangerous! This time it manifested in the idea of an enemies to lovers WandaNat AU in which sorority president Wanda and fraternity president Natasha simply can't stand one another, but Nat finds Wanda's weakness and exploits the fuck out of it. I'm planning to write more of them so I hope you all love these sillies in their enemies phase! P.S. if you know why I named this AU what I did, you're a real one 💖

Seven Things AU. masterlist :: Natasha lives to annoy Wanda so naturally, she plans the Spring Barbeque Night on the lawn of Wanda's sorority without asking and counts down the seconds until she comes down to complain

wc: 4k cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters. sorority!Wanda x fraternity!Natasha. smut. oral (n receiving). strap on sex (w receiving). cum strap. copious insults/hate sex. rough play/manhandling. overstimulation. degradation/humiliation. nat has a seriously filthy mouth and calls wanda lots of names. internal discussions of aftercare.

Wanda hated Natasha Romanoff.

She hated her messy red hair and the cocky way she walked around campus, how unshakably full of herself she always was, no matter how much of an asshole she was being any given moment. And she was constantly an ass, a chronic headache from the first day Wanda met her last year…

Currently Wanda hated Natasha’s heavy boots kicking her knees apart each time she moved them together even an inch.

“You want to get off on sucking my dick so bad, it’s pathetic.” Nat couldn’t stop her long groan and didn’t want to, grip tightening in Wanda’s loosely curled hair as she inched her strap further down the other girl’s throat.

If someone told her last month she’d have the most annoying girl she knew knelt in front of her like this, Natasha would’ve laughed them off; they could barely coexist in a room for more than a few minutes without one of them going off on the other.

They’d found a compromise in fucking each other speechless; mostly Wanda who, for all her holier-than-thou attitude towards the other woman, found herself repeatedly powerless for hidden quickies with Natasha.

Wanda could only claw at Natasha’s thighs, any possible harm dulled by the denim jeans Nat didn’t bother removing. She’d add how stupidly brutish Nat was to her ever-growing list of grievances if it didn’t turn her on so damn much.

The moment the fabric of her harness brushed Wanda’s cheek, they both shivered.

“I’m gonna assume no one’s managed to fuck this pretty mouth of yours this deep yet,” the redhead ground her hips against Wanda’s face slowly, letting her head roll back against the door, willfully ignorant to any discomfort the girl before her endured, “or maybe you’re too much of a bitch for anyone else to bother trying.”

Natasha let up and Wanda growled, disgusted gaze glaring daggers at her tormentor. “You don’t have anyone else to screw with, or have all the girls in town grown tired of your womanizer routine?”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up.” Shoving her forward was all too easy with Wanda caught off guard, burying her tip at the back of her throat so roughly Wanda gagged. Nat drove her hips back and forth at a brutal pace, laughing at the brunette’s sputtering, “That’s it, choke on my cock…”

The two were both too stubborn to break eye contact, Wanda’s wide green eyes watering with embarrassment and Natasha shamelessly getting off to her struggle.

She fucked her steadily, both hands now fisted in Wanda’s hair, the poor girl’s face growing pinker every second as she fought to hide just how much being used like this turned her on. It was no use, the sticky mess of the sorority president’s lip gloss and spit leaving kisses on her fraternity counterpart’s harness, sending Wanda into a dizzying frenzy of arousal that wrenched in the pit of her stomach- and lewdly dripped onto Natasha’s boot.

Oh how Natasha wished her phone wasn’t discarded on Wanda’s nightstand; she’d give anything to have photo evidence of their university’s golden student drooling on her strap and trying desperately to rub herself on her laces. “I bet if I shot a load down your throat you’d cum on the spot… wanna try?”

Nat finally let Wanda take a breath, yanking her away in favor of taking the thick toy in her hand, tapping the head onto the brunette’s already waiting tongue as she nodded desperately. She hadn’t bought this toy for anyone particular, never got much use out of it until she stumbled into Wanda’s secret a few weeks ago; now it was quickly becoming her favorite possession.

An accidentally perfect object to drive Wanda insane.

“Are you gonna let us keep our party on your lawn?”

The question snapped Wanda back to attention, suddenly aware of Natasha’s ulterior motives. There was a strange pang of hurt she felt, only for the briefest of seconds, to know what she was being used for, but it quickly morphed into keen anger. “Absolutely not! Go camp out with someone who actually likes you.”

“Stubborn bitch,” Nat muttered, knocking Wanda backwards. She was unsteady enough for her back to hit the floor with a painful thud, wincing as she met the hard wood of her bedroom. Admittedly, maybe that was a little too harsh, Natasha’s hand reaching out to inspect the girl before she caught herself, remembered who they were to one another, and her originally thoughtful touch became a slap for Wanda’s calf.

In an instant she was kneeling, dragging Wanda’s strawberry printed pajama shorts off to get a good look at her handiwork. They were still new to one another, having only really fallen into rage-fueled quickies, this was Natasha’s first time seeing the full effect she had on Wanda and damn if it wasn’t more intoxicating than all the beers she’d drunk tonight combined. “Pretty mouth and pussy, no wonder I’ve heard you’re good to fuck around with.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, doing her best to tamp down how hot she felt being openly inspected like this, ignoring the sparks she felt as Natasha’s hands parted and pawed at her bare thighs. “Don’t be gross, you pass yourself around more in one weekend than I’ve done my entire life.”

“So I know what I’m doing, Maximoff. Don’t forget I almost made you cum without a single touch just now.” If she cared enough Nat would’ve asked her how many people she actually had been with. Wanda had a reputation for being a tease of epic proportions, flirting cruelly with no intent of following through or, if you’re lucky, getting you off, but for as much gossip Nat heard, she couldn’t think of anyone who could say they’d slept with her.

In truth, the girl was picky, refusing to let anyone get farther than she thought she’d enjoy just as much as they did. Unfortunately Natasha not only met that standard, but rose far above it— the only reason she tolerated her insufferable nature each time they ended up like this. “But I didn’t finish, so get on with it. You’re already starting to bore me- ow!”

The last thing Wanda expected was a slap, stinging and wet, between her legs.

“Whenever you speak, you bore me, but I’m still here…” Her strap slid through the other girl’s cunt effortlessly, the weight of it offering the barest bit of much needed friction, but where Wanda raised her hips, Natasha held them down.

When the tip rested at Wanda’s waiting entrance, the shallowest of motions left her biting her lip to keep from begging. She couldn’t admit how badly she wanted this, how intensely she fought not to wrap her legs around Natasha and take the whole of her all by herself, to sate the persistent empty feeling she’d had since Nat pulled their hips together down on the lawn… “And you’re only here to get the answer you want so go ahead, try and convince me.”

Nat was too selfish to give Wanda time to adjust, pushing inside inch by inch while the girl below her gasped and balled her fists at her sides, too arrogant to grab onto Natasha’s stupid toned arms. But bottoming out felt like mutual heaven and as Wanda felt that cool, rough denim rub under her thighs, she gave in and let her legs clamp about her waist.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Nat muttered, drawing out slowly just to surge forward, quickly setting a pace so brutal Wanda couldn’t hope to keep up. “Would’ve let you use your fingers before if I’d known…”

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, eyes fluttering closed. She hated having to get this from someone she couldn’t stand, body betraying her in the presence of the person she wanted to be miles away from, but she forced her brain to submit along with the rest of her, taking her pleasure in a world where Natasha wasn’t a daily thorn in her side.

She needed to feel overwhelmed, overtaken, out of control— Natasha was the only person bold enough to give her what she was after. And she planned to use it to her full advantage. “No? Does perfect princess Wanda need to be fucked like a filthy slut?”

The woman was a mess of moans, doing her best to ignore Nat until calloused fingers gripped her jaw and yanked her back to reality. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me fuck you dumb.”

When their eyes met again, Wanda’s pupils were blown wide, flushed cheeks pinched together under Nat’s grasp, “I asked you a question, answer me or I’ll leave you here and let everyone outside know you’re locked in your room with your fingers deep in your tight cunt, dreaming of my dick.”

Natasha really wished Wanda wasn’t so fucking pretty with her breathy pants and tousled hair framing her face like a halo; it made sex so much harder not giving the girl exactly what she wanted. “Just fuck me, Romanoff. You have a party to get back to.”

“I do? So you’ll let us stay?” Wanda nearly threw a fit when Natasha stopped again, the thought of being denied twice in one night enough to leave her whining. She was someone people rarely said no to, things simply fell into place for her as she wished, but challenging, thick-headed Natasha… dealing with her was akin to rolling a boulder single-handed.

“Yes, yes fine! Keep your crappy party! Let me cum and you can stay the night for all I care-“ Her eyes were wide open now, focused enough to take in Natasha’s shit-eating grin before she pounded into her once more, faster and more determined now that she’d won.

The redhead never had trouble in bed, satisfying whoever she fell into bed with effortlessly; she was reluctant to admit it’d grown repetitive. So when she ran into a drunk and mopey Wanda stumbling down the hall of her fraternity a few weeks back and cornered her with intention to mock her nighttime walk of shame, Natasha was morbidly curious to hear her confess how sexually unsatisfied she was with such plain honesty.

She couldn’t have predicted Wanda ever being in her room, much less sprawling on her bed like she belonged there and bemoaning her plight. “Is it so hard to just cum on my face? You’d think they’d be excited, but nooo all I get is ‘are you sure that’s what you want?’ Of course I’m sure!”

Natasha was so rarely speechless, but of all possible statements, she’d never expected that one.

Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if Wanda’s guard wasn’t lowered by alcohol. If Natasha hadn’t been standing at the foot of the bed in gray sweatpants that so poorly hid the strap she’d been packing, matching sports bra showing off her toned stomach while she proudly proclaimed she’d have no issue granting Wanda what she was after. If Wanda hadn’t crawled across the mattress to Nat and kissed the taut skin right below her navel before taking those cotton pants between her teeth and pulling, staring Natasha down with a ferocity she never imagined would make her feel anything but a primal rage-

But that night played out as it did and now they were here, another evening spent indulging each other in acts they couldn’t ask of anyone else.

Wanda didn’t announce how close she was, didn’t give Natasha the satisfaction of knowing just how good of an orgasm she’d given her— the woman above her still knew. She’d heard Wanda cry out for her before and she’d already come this far: Natasha wouldn’t stop until she had Wanda begging. “You’re supposed to say thank you when I’m nice to you.”

“In your dreams, playboy.”

Fighting words were routine, but the glob of spit landing on Natasha’s cheek colored her vision red. For a moment, the tension in the air felt too thick, bedroom eerily quiet as Nat’s grip flexed into the plush thighs spread before her, clenched jaw only accentuating her dangerous glare. Maybe Wanda would be afraid if she hadn’t hit the exact nerve she’d aimed for.

“Brats like you never behave for long, huh?” Dragging Wanda across the floor, Natasha rammed into still recovering sex, cupping the back of her knee and forcing her leg into her chest while the other stayed trapped against the wood. The new angle was deeper than Wanda had ever been treated to and her choked sob alone almost made up for Natasha being spit on.

Almost.

“Always such an insufferable… ungrateful…” She grumbled, losing her train of thought as her focus dropped down, suddenly fixated on the now drenched toy at her hips stretched around Wanda’s tight hole, ever growing mess close to dripping onto her ass.

Wanda wasn’t new to people staring at her, most days it boosted her already impressive confidence levels, but the way Natasha watched, always sizing her up like prey to be hunted and devoured, that was different. When she wasn’t looking at her with apathy it was contempt, anything to remind Wanda she wasn’t infallible as she thought she was, but this —Natasha so obviously getting off to her, so desperately rocking her pelvis against Wanda’s whenever she bottomed out in search of friction— made the brunette feel craved.

“What’s the matter, run out of insults?” Nat hadn’t noticed her mouth hanging open until it felt dry, snapping out of her lustrous thoughts to lick her full lips. Seconds from verbal retort, she decided on a better course, one equally as selfish as Wanda’s earlier orgasm: she could very easily knock the girl down some much needed pegs while making it worth her time.

“Just wondering how a spoiled little cumslut like you thinks it’s in your best interest to mouth off.” Wanda didn’t have time to be taken aback, Natasha’s sudden change of angle driving her round tip into that elusive spot deep inside over and over; she cursed her drunken self babbling to her rival that she was the only person, including herself, to find it.

“Shit, Romanoff, slow down-!” She thought for sure Natasha wouldn’t remember, had her pegged as the type of lover who had to learn everything over each time, but no, Nat was the opposite and now she knew too much.

“Shut your mouth and play with your tits.” The command was blunt, powerful enough in its delivery that Wanda didn’t question, shaky hands sliding under her shirt while she struggled not to finish her second time unexpectedly early.

She was slow in her touches, too slow for Natasha’s energetic pace, and the loose cotton fabric hid the view; two things Nat instantly got tired of. “Get your damn shirt out of the way, and I don’t want any of your silly shy shit- I told you to play with them.”

Wanda would kill Nat if she ever told a soul she whimpered, would deny having clenched around Nat in response to her exerting control… still she wrenched her shirt over her head as quick as she could and her hands flew back to her chest. She forced her eyes to stay open, smugly committing the sight of Natasha panting in time with her thrusts, light green eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers teasing her dusty pink nipples into hardness.

“You’re such a creep, I bet you’ll be jerking off to this for weeks,” she mumbled, pinching the sensitive peaks between her thumb and forefinger, moaning louder than intended as she matched Natasha’s motions.

Nat huffed, couldn’t bother denying that yes, she would definitely be thinking about Wanda spread wide open and touching herself for a long time. Her partner would to, though, mind wandering to Natasha ordering her around next time she found herself alone and needy.

Wanda made the mistake of watching Nat’s tongue swipe over her lips, traitorous brain wondering what the smooth muscle would feel like instead of her chilly fingertips, how warm and wet her mouth would be if she ever dared to suck—

This time when the dam broke, she was too distracted to censor herself, back arching and body trembling uncontrollably. If Nat’s focus had lapsed for just two seconds she would’ve missed Wanda utter her name, soft and breathy, syllables stuttered as if she pronounced it for the first time. “Aww poor princess, was that too much for you?”

“Go fuck yourself…” The words were weak, embarrassingly so, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to laugh at her attempt.

“Already working on it, smartass,” Nat didn’t falter for a second through Wanda’s second high, meeting wave after wave as the girl finally stopped pretending she didn’t want this just as much and raised her hips with each thrust.

The redhead had long since made a mess of her own underwear, sticky wetness coating the base of her strap to aid her now desperate grinding into Wanda, rubbing her neglected sex against the textured silicone. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when Wanda insisted on mewling so maddeningly, freshly manicured nails digging into Natasha’s sides as she fought overstimulation.

“You’re being too rough-!” Wanda couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice knowing once again it was Natasha who’d rendered her so vulnerable, but this was always her favorite part, being used and treated so carelessly; the thing she and Nat never properly talked about, but knew she needed.

“But I’m so close, don’t you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt?” Nat taunted, bending over so she could kiss Wanda’s temple. “I think you’ve almost been a nice enough fuck tonight to earn it.”

“God, just do it!” Nat was humping against her so hard it hurt, but then the dull sting ebbed in place of a new sensation -two deft fingers rolling over her swollen clit- and Wanda could only briefly process she was well and truly done for before her mind melted away.

“So demanding for someone so needy… try asking nicely.” Fortunately for Natasha’s rapidly approaching orgasm, Wanda didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, submitting with a barely audible please. “Please what, you know what I wanna hear.”

Wanda could slap herself for being so weak later, maybe when she took a shower and realized how she actually loved being made to beg so helplessly. “Please Natasha, please please, I want you to cum in me!”

“Good girl, there’s those perfect manners,” Nat came with a series of grunts, jerkily rutting while she filled Wanda like she’d been thinking of doing since she stomped out of her house and tried to break up their party.

She’d been so angry, shouting and pointing her finger in everyone’s faces, treating her and her friends like they were rowdy kids. The others mumbled apologies, deferring to Wanda like the figurehead she decided she was, but Natasha loved a challenge, especially one she’d planned on having after purposefully planting themselves on the sorority lawn. Nat wasn’t scared of Wanda, not before this arrangement and certainly not after; now she knew exactly how to fix any argument that popped up.

When Natasha finally pulled out, there was a dampness to the front of her shirt and jeans and again, she wanted to reach over for her camera. Instead she settled for sliding her hands to where Wanda was red and oh so wet, abused hole fluttering as their combined arousal leaked out. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste on the floor, two fingers collecting what’d escaped and, much to Wanda’s exhausted surprise, pushing it back in.

“I’m too sensitive for that…” Twisting away was futile, Natasha still firmly planted between her thighs. She had half a mind to kick her until she saw Nat’s free hand angling her cock down, painting Wanda’s lower half with thick ropes of cum while her thumb nudged her hardened bud, and dull throbs of new arousal twisted her stomach into cramps. “Stop-!”

The pleasure in it was fleeting, the pain of exhaustion winning out, but it wasn’t until she sobbed pitifully that Natasha finally glanced up at Wanda’s anguished face and backed off. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine…” Wanda refused to entertain the idea that any bit of Nat’s concern was real; if she dwelled long enough, she’d ruin her afterglow with too many conflicting thoughts. It didn’t matter if the redhead actually cared anyways, her touch, now slowly smoothing over Wanda’s sore hips, started to burn as Wanda came back to her senses. “Just get your hands off me, idiot.”

Natasha could’ve pushed and maybe if it was someone she was supposed to care about she would’ve, but her worry swerved towards brushing off Wanda’s rejection, defaulting back to what they did best: hate each other. “A greedy whore and a squirter, probably a crier too if I bed you on the right day… better hope your secrets are safe with me, princess.”

Her heart dropped thinking about her sex life becoming the latest gossip, but she could only feebly push her away, head twisting to the side just so she could look anywhere but Natasha and her insolent self. “Well you’ve got to have some kind of funny story to tell everyone when you go back the party. I know you’re always low on those.”

Eventually she managed sitting up, stretching out her back and arms, inadvertently giving Natasha one last unobstructed view of her before retrieving her discarded t-shirt and putting it back in place. “Or you could crack open another beer and share how you drool like a baby every time you see my tits, that’s a conversation starter for sure.”

Needing a soft surface for her now aching body, Wanda clumsily climbed into bed, unceremoniously using Nat’s shoulder to lean on as she maneuvered. True, Natasha tended to kiss and tell, but something about doing the same to Wanda felt wrong, at least to be as detailed as she typically was. Maybe it was just the pride she got from being the only person Wanda’s actually fucking; she wanted to keep that for herself.

“Could always come back downstairs with me and we’ll tell them together.” Natasha didn’t need much clean up, zipping her jeans back and standing awkwardly next to Wanda’s now prone form. Neither of them knew how to handle the ‘after’ yet, Nat’s tendency to check in on even her most casual of partners always ignored by Wanda who knew she’d undoubtedly needed that care but couldn’t stomach the possibility of being one in a string of partners.

So they avoided it as much as possible. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever be seen anywhere with you, playboy.”

Wanda felt a different kind of yearning just then, one that dared her to give Nat the option to stay and her cheeks flushed all over again. Her solution was rolling over until her back was to Natasha, steeled herself to stay that way until she was left alone.

Nat sighed, long and audibly irritated, pondering the pros and cons of offering to do something together up here, a calm, private thing where she could sate that instinct to watch over Wanda without explicitly doing just that… but it’d require admitting she wouldn’t mind hanging out with Wanda and she did not want that.

“Sorry, I should’ve said if you wanted to take a night off of being an impossible bitch, you can actually try to enjoy yourself.”

The door closed behind her and Wanda could breathe again, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She felt empty and not only between her legs; unfortunately for Wanda, Natasha was no longer around to take her frustrations out on. “Stupid asshole..”

Eventually her night ended dangerously close to feigning some illness to lure Natasha’s attention back when she fell asleep and Nat’s, uncharacteristically leaving her party alone with the excuse of having forgotten her phone on the Wanda’s nightstand. She certainly didn’t use the opportunity to see Wanda again, surveying her sleep before pulling a blanket over the brunette’s shivering form.

[solarstqrs]

᯾𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍᯾

paring: t!f ceo yae x fem reader

cw: implied sexual work realations implied exploitation implied blackmail degrading mocking heavy teasing threats lingere semi public sex implied blow job spanking gagging blindfolds pure smut porn with some plot implied jealous sex implied creampies dumbofication implied freeuse implied edging

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Yae miko was…a powerful person dont get yourself wrong she was pretty and looked nice at those news outlets smiling gracefully acting like a sweet sweet angel yet you let her stuff your face with her giant dick as punishment as a news reporter trying to uncover her secrets by acting like her secretary. Your lucky your pretty otherwise she’d break you even more.

Atleast you could use your looks to please her. “Atta girl those investors could hear you…and you know what will happen if im upset whore.”

she smirked against your ear…she was so slow so so so slow you felt your walls collapsing and twitching around her unconsiously

Honestly you hated her. You hated the way she smiled and greeted you, Hated the FACT she will never stop with her irrataiting smile. She’s always lurking with her purple eyes always peering at you, smiling every single time and not even that! Her voice sugar coated with lies unfolding yet…You still wanted to lick the wrapper you still were addicted to her taste. Her efforts. Her addiction.

You’re uncanny, you hate her yet you cant stop running back fufilling your needs with her. Her sharp claw like nails wipe your lips; already bruised from her lipstick.

“I’ve got you all dirty…” she feins in fake sadness already…She’s speaking like she cares, Acting as if she was sweet as candy but she was conniving and scheming like a asshole. Already her newely (not really) founded smirk plastered her face again watching your pathetic form.

“fuck..off.” you replied expecting it to go unheard. Oh you poor soul her hand gripped your cheeks tightly

“pathetic cunt. You think ill be kind even if you sound like a ditzy slut right now?” Yae had this look it was terrifying and you even put on her favourite set of lingere. She still was never gonna be fair to you no matter how you tried to please her “Answer me do you want eevvveryone to know how much of a whore you are for me?” her voice was soft as silk but let out so many profanities.

all you did was nod she knew you couldnt say anything against her afterall she wasnt the one getting fucked against the table where buisness deals happened just then. Knock. Knock she smirks she knew her oppertunity was here

“better fucking answer.” she drew closer blowing at your ear

“y-yes who is this..?” you tried so hard you did but she didnt see it so she stopped doing everything letting a small whine erupt from you atleast not loud enough

“Hey? is this room free yet..?” a familar buisness investor replied the one who made eyes at you and shyly blushed at you everytime in every meeting

yae watched in annoyance this is what had her worked up aswell

“w-well not yeag” your voice now gagged from yae’s fingers making it more difficult to answer

“you…okay?” he spoke softly

“mhm nofing to worray abour” you answered muffly “buft eafing”

you heard a sigh before the man walked away before yae pulled her hard length out legs still shakey

“yae..?” you could only ask in some concern

“turn around.” is all she could answer before making you face her and picking you up and holding her in your arms

before fluidly shoving herself inside and fucking you quickly

“i bet he cant do this can he? i bet he cant make your holes fucking spasm like this.”

all you could do was convulse and cover your mouth legs shaking as tears threaten to fall

“i fucking bet he wouldnt even have the balls to go raw like me and leave a nice gift.” she stopped for a minute before taking off her tie and tying it around your eyes so you couldnt see

“i’d hate to see my good slut cry over that guy.”

she misinterperts your actions actually crying over how good she made you knocking the living fuck out of you

“fucking say it say im better.” only moans and stuttery whines left your throat as you held onto her desperatly

“such a good good fucking whore.” she kept speaking so softly aswell being so angry yet so calm biting down you ever so slightly she licked it always fox like her personality

“say it. say you need me.” she softly spoke her constant clingyness now rubbing ever so clearly

her dick started twitching god you didnt even realize how full you were only thinking it was from what you ate today she started pushing relentlessly before pulling out leaving you whining for release

“fucking paticence ill do it again.”

she turned you around, leg open fucking you again spanking you

“do you think you fucking deserve to cum after getting me worked up like this? Oh no, No you fucking dont.” she roughly spoke now pulling your arms up above your head

“i am not letting you finish at all tonight and if you do ill have my way with you till im bored got it?” she threanted to break your wrists by this point and all you could do was nod while moaning

“thats not a proper answer, well?”

“y-yes god fuck yes please m’sorry m’sorry yae” you repeated sobbing softly as she kissed your tears away

“good girl better listen” you already felt that knot exploding this did not help

the spanks didnt stop everytime you felt that knot grow and tighten up again you felt a slap on your arse as a small threat to listen all you could do was comply until you were allow you spill everthing on Yae’s dick

“thats my girl…atta girl your being so good for me you can finish pretty.” she finally let go of her anger finally your legs convulst and you got to finish finally

“good girl.”

[1eoness]

CHANGE.

cw: re4remake leon... just a lil more rude than usual. covers very sensitive topics: theft and surrogate prostitution (not mentioned), SUPERRR NOT CANON.

nsfw cw: DUBCON i think? (always practice safe and consensual sex) (slight-enemy smut idfk) dom!re4remake leon kennedy x sub! fem/afab-reader. size kink, creampie?? spit kink?? squirting?? mild degradation, pet names, feminine terms... straight up porn tbh i dont even know BRUHH WTFI DONT EVEN KNOW THE THINGS I WRITE

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

synopsis :

your job is simple. as long as you exploit and delude the men at the top of the social pyramid, ada sponsored you with her safety and training. though, your naivete made it easy for ada to convince you that you weren't just some dirty pawn stationed in a particular estate—which happens to be leon's next mission area.

when he encounters you to perform your arrest, leon prays to any god up there that he has the patience not to mess you over for turning into the person you've become today.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

"— just listen to me, damn it!" leon scolded as he tugged onto the metal that strung your cuffed wrists together, cutting your retorts off with your abrupt grit of pain. your insistence of denying his chances without hearing him out made you more irritable than you already were. "you have no idea what you're carrying. you're gonna start a fucking epidemic if you take that anywhere near ada, you understand?"

it was understandable. you were carrying a formula. some unethical, potent 'opium' derived from a variant of the t-virus. freshly baked by some ex-umbrella geeks, it was marketed to be an effective drug, planned to be distributed to some sort of paramilitary in spain to modify their strength to inexplicable heights (which was proved to be false, yet some arrogant virologists insisted it had potential, so unethical 'scientists' wanted to get their hands on improving it). that's all you know about it, anyway.

leon's true nature behind his words rooted from the fact that he was fucking worried for you and it's not only because of the position that ada put you in right now. that enigmatic woman, treating you like some guinea pig and you couldn't even see it. it surprised leon that you were even alive.

leon knew you way before ada discovered you in that dark junction, before you dropped out of police academy without a word and went back to your old ways of 'getting through life'.

leon was your role model. he was the first one to make friends with you while you stood 'incompetent' in that academy.

but people dug their eyes in you because of your history. all it takes is a few facebook searches and some names for the other fellow cadets to define you using your past. and when the awareness rose to leon, he was the first one to defend you.

the eidetic memory of you; you were sat on a hall bench with his jacket hung loosely over your dropping shoulders, gripping an unopened water bottle that turned lukewarm. your fingers felt numb from the tremors of anxiety, and the broodingly saddened look in your eyes.

he was knelt in front of his dear friend, trying to reassure you that people can change, and you were already making those efforts. his thumbs held your palms when with a serious tone, encouraged you into promising him that you will never change; because you are a sweet girl and you never deserved to be shamed for something you thought was your survival. within this promise, he also promised you that as long as you kept your self-faith you will never go back to what you hated being. you should've seen how genuine his smile look when you chuckled sheepishly, the flush on your cheeks earning a double reasoning.

and now, it pained him more to realize that he regrets not making another promise, one he held back from saying that night. don't leave him.

a very selfish, unwarranted yet passionate part of him believes that you'd been so cruel to him, abandoning him like that. and now you want to leave again?

now you're being reprimanded by the cop who you looked at like he was a hero.

where was the bright cadet in those eyes, the one that looked up to him?

and it was just great of you to articulate further on how much he underestimated your stubbornness."i'm slowing you down. if it's not me (who will escort the sample), it's gonna be ada. you thought she was a one-man job? that you can somehow negotiate with her because you guys fucked once? my god, have you ever changed?-" out of being so naive? but the words don't follow because he knows you were going to say it.

leon's hand slid from your back to grip harshly at the back collar of your shirt, lifting your chest up from the table abruptly. he locked eyes with you, hidden tension bubbling the air like odorless toxins. he scoffs, and his low voice turned deliberate as he tried to spell the irony out for you. "ada. doesn't. work with people. she uses them, and you're not some 'special exception'."

and it's true, he knows it all too well..

"she uses... people like you." you were quick to correct him indignantly with a struggling breath. leon knew nothing about you and ada. ada was like a big sister to you. she taught you what you couldn't learn at police academy. she understood where you came from, and she knows the lowest moments in your life. but leon knew all of that too, didn't he?

"you know why?"

he scoffs. "enlighten me." and there was a subtle increase of tightness in his grip, eyes narrowing down at your bent-over body in anticipation.

"'cause you're a fuck up, kennedy."

upon hearing your quips, he thought maybe he should add a small noise of pain to it, because he flushed you further against the surface with a force that hinted irritation. he had enough of this pointless hissing. "listen, y'little bitch..." he gruffed with the mere frustration surging his voice. he's probably never addressed a woman like that, but oh, how people can shift within the span of their emotion. "you have the sample, now tell me where it is. and if you have it, then you know what to do."

leon wasn't confident that you had the item on you, knowing ada was most likely using you as a decoy. he didn't want to hurt you. even if you've looked like you've changed; to him, you haven't..

of course you were holding the "formula", leon was just dumb enough to think you actually had it on you. your eyes fluttered before you laughed emptily in heavy breaths, peeking over your shoulder whilst he did not let up on you. your torso was starting to fucking hurt. but so was your pride. "then come get it, rookie." you baited.

you ignited an internal burn he didn't even know he had. one that reached the peak of its abrasion.

"..fuck you." he growled inaudibly before you yelped, feet off the ground. and fuck ada, too.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

if you were gonna keep acting like a brat, he was going to fuck you like one.

his hand came behind your head, locking your hair in a tight grip while you felt his tongue glide against yours in a messy kiss. an overwhelming amount of affectionate frustration surged as he propped you up firmer on that desk. he ate your whines as he tired your damp mouth out, the rising feeling of grudge-rooted sexual frustration pining somewhere inside him hotly.

"why do you hate me so much, mmm?" he gasped quietly for a breath, his hand letting go of your hair and holding both sides of your hips, hastily pulling your pants up mid-thigh. he needed to be inside you, he just needed it so bad..

"cause you're .. hhah.. y-you've become too cocky f'your own good, kennedy-" leon scoffs at the sight of you drooled up with the trails of mixed saliva. you're sure that's not you? you could've fooled him, you were fucking sopping—trails of your essence sticking to your underwear. it made him moan low in desperation. he wanted to lick it all up. "is that right.." he muttered with utter lack of amusement as his cold thumb glided over your fluids absentmindedly, spreading one fold apart slightly to get a better look. his eyes soften, breath hitching knowing it's gonna feel so good inside you.

"d-definitely too cocky!-" you insisted with a contrast whine that emitted from your sweet voice, expecting him to start off with letting you adjust to his tip first. but you're hopeless for thinking leon would ever go soft on you just because you only remember the "naive" version of him years ago. people change, right?

you were suddenly squirming when you felt him fill and thrust into you thickly, humbling your little cunny as it pulsated. dumb little bunny, leon thinks to himself, watching you start to fluster and retort weakly beneath him with your ankles on his shoulders.

his hand comes up to your head, smacking your cheek swiftly. "shut up. shut the fuck up." he growls, eyes narrowing mildly, holding your cheeks with one hand as he pried your little mouth open. his thoughts were so guiltily dirty, wondering how cute your throat would look filled with his cock. he'll have to try another time, though, wouldn't he? for now his ring and middle finger deliberately slide into your tongue, savoring the minor 'hhnnn' that lolled out of your sticky tongue as your eyes peered up at him glassily.

the words 'fuck me' were written all over your eyes when his gaze locks down to yours. and could he resist such a pretty baby?- why were you so pretty?

it's a shame that you made so much effort to treat him indifferently, calling him by his last name and all...

your vision felt cloudy given that you were full of leon. but you catch glimpse of the way he smirks at himself before he leans down much closer to your face, folding your legs over and not giving a fuck if it hurts. the simple shift in angle had you crying out as his tip grazed over the right spots.

he spits a string of saliva down into your forced-open mouth, hoping it would furtherly aid in getting you to shut up over something so trivial. "so fucking dirty..." his fingers gently traced your bottom lip while he whispers with mock-disgust, yet it's laced with affection- a twisted pair of feelings that has him needing you at incalculable rates.

his hands come down to the exposed flesh of your hips, fingers dipping into your skin as he holds you still on his girth. it felt even better when you could feel his bulging size rub up inside you hastily— the way he was fucking you fervently and not letting you get away. you're never fucking leaving his sight, or his mind.

"h-how's this for.. uhh-..nngh.. being cocky? huh?" he groaned roughly after stammering with the embers of his frustration. leon's frustrated that he can't speak without stammering, so he takes it out on you with punishing thrusts that have you sobbing louder, mending his ego by ruining yours. he's stripping your pride away with each push into your sweet spots.

you gave in, vulnerable as you started to blabber from the way you were getting your breath knocked up. "hnggghh.... ahh!-.. l-leon!~ n-not there!-"

"there it is.." he mutters to himself sweetly mid-fucking-you-full. you're finally talking to him properly, how cute.. "more, baby?" he taunts with a struggling moan but he doesn't let you react; the only reaction he wants is you reducing beneath him, proving it by his fingers bruising your skin as he rammed into you in a desperate pace. "ngghh uhh.. fuck-" he whines loudly, your hole squelching uncontrollably as he fucks the juices out of you with every sweet drag of his sensitive shaft.

you turn him so soft he hates you for it.. he has such a soft spot for you, doesn't he?

"fuuck, this pussy's.. so good.." his eyes were half-lidded, moaning adorably before whining about the fact that he's about to spill a load inside you. "f-fuck, 'so good, please- mnnnnghh- aahh!~" his voice wavered, still driving his cock into you as he breaks through his limits and makes himself whimper gently, tears softening his eyes.

oh but his poor baby, creaming around his shaft so quickly and relentlessly, only to continue being rutted into like a little toy ♡. he coats your sweet little hole with his cum, flooding and painting it all over as his tip poured deep inside of you with a thick, milky warmth that pooled on the varnished wood.

you weren't even speaking anymore, your words melting on your tongue. he doesn't understand a damn thing you're saying but he doesn't need you to speak, he just needs you to feel good.

"fuck... uhhhnn!~.. fuck me, please, baby.." he blathers before he found himself whining at the way your cunt pulsates, eyes teasing at you subtly while he holds your cheeks together in his domineering hand. he doesn't even pull out much, just shoving and grinding his girth into your creamed-up cunny and making you endure the crushing pleasure. his hands scramble to push against the back of your thighs, folding them to let him fully fill up into your already deflowered, milky vulva.

"n-no, g'nna- leon!" your mind goes into total shudder as your back arched, having him hold your hips in place as you started to gush all over his stuffy girth.

"ohh, mhmm.. that's it, sweet girl.." leon knows you feel good, seeing you cry flusteredly while he still thrusted in you to lengthen the feeling of you cumming. he tore at your pride, pulling out the vulnerable version of yourself he hasn't seen in a long time. especially when you reach up for him like you wanted a hug. that did it for him.

he leans down to pick you up, your legs dangle tiredly around his waist. he's sorry to whoever's bed it was that he laid you down on. he whimpered softly into the fabric of your shoulder while trying to regain his stability. you could faintly feel him pepper tame, short kisses on it mindlessly.

he nuzzles into your skin. "you wanna be a good girl f'me?" he murmurs into your neck breathily.

"mhmm.."

"then get on your knees." leon lets go from holding you—letting you scramble onto all fours.

he stuffs himself back inside your sensitive hole like he's aching for it, making you wail with struggle. with your legs aimlessly sprawled on either side of him, he makes sure you don't stray from him by holding your hips again. the flesh spilling between his fingers as he pulls you closer like he's scared you'll run away. his hips move irrationally, wanting to make sure he's hitting it good, all the right spots again, just for his baby. he's so sensitive it starts to throb, masochistic urges as he overstimulates himself ceaselessly.

"hhhngh... you can't just.. come around- and then leave- like it's nothing!-" leon babbled whiningly between his forceful thrusts, his pace increasing with incessant speed. you could feel his fingers nimbly moving through your scalp, leon's hand holding the back of your head down onto the fluff surface where your cute little cries of pleasure went in vain.

you couldn't take it but leon made you, his constant rutting inside you even after cumming doesn't pause. he's suffocating this way but he doesn't even care. he's so loud behind you, fucking into your messy cunt like it hurts real good.

his attention is divulged slightly when he sees a little glow on the pocket of your shirt. how didn't he spot that? his hand snakes over your breast, fingertips swiftly snagging the high-tech vial and shoving it somewhere in his remaining clothing.

you yelped. ada was going to kill you. "h-hey!-" he notices you trying to look behind you but his hand is quicker, turning your head forwards with a gentle grip of his hand. he muffled your face into the sheets with the force of his hand holding your head, and he snaps his hips faster just to have you all adorable and crying for him again. "y'c-can't take tha-" oh, but what were you going to do about it?

he starts deliberately making up mistranslations of what you wanted to say. "mm, what's that, sweet girl? you want more?... oh, i know, baby, oh shh.. i got'chu, you're so good, huh? uhhuh.." he encouraged amidst fucking you back into a state of distraction, a hazy smile to himself while he considers his mission accomplished.

[leggerefiore]

whenever you find yourself with some time would you be willing to do nsfw cyrus hcs? and/or steven stone? i have it bad for twenty-something men with blue-gray hair and you write cyrus so well <3

cw: 18+ content, AFAB reader, gen sexual hcs,

characters: Cyrus, Steven Stone

Minors DNI

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The Galactic Boss struggles to comprehend sex for the most part. Does he feel arousal? Yes, naturally. Does the urge strike him to go find his partner and have a round occur to him? He would prefer to just have a quick jerk off session and get back to whatever he had been doing before the need had arisen. Yet, it was not easy when you were around. Suddenly, your own needs came into the fray. Cyrus truly struggles to overcome this at times, afraid that he will underperform for you or simply worries too much in general. Being naked is such a vulnerable state, he truly prefers not to be, but you clearly enjoy his body.

☄️ Cyrus admittedly hesitates to initiate or reciprocate due to the feelings of it all. Sex can be purely physical, but not with someone he cares about. Your arms and legs can wrap around him when he is on top, or your hands press against his chest when you ride him. The touch… it all feels too intimate for him. He truly feels like he does not deserve it, but dares not say a word when your pleasured sounds echo around the room. Eventually, he loses himself in the throes of passion and lets the physicality take over his worries for feelings.

☄️ His usual locations for sex are almost entirely at home, but he does have moments where you end up pinned against his desk being rutted in by a frustrated Galactic Boss. There are few places he really feels comfortable having sex. The idea of anyone seeing him, and you for that matter, in such a vulnerable and compromising position truly distresses him. Though, at home, he does not do it anywhere too odd. Never in the kitchen, too worried about germs. The couch and bed are his favourite spots. You popped on some lingerie to tease him while visiting him at his office, you may find yourself pressed against the starry skies of his office wall depending on how wound up he is.

☄️ Cyrus has no idea what he is doing when it comes to giving head. Honestly, he is horrible and will not do it. He also struggles to receive it, as he completely has his mind go to the fact you have been eating things. You will have to brush your teeth for him to even begin to agree. Though, he might agree depending on his mood. Usually, it will be a no. Basically, no head for and from Cyrus.

☄️ Cyrus is a switch, but not in the traditional sense. He vehemently refuses anything related to anal (his paranoia about germs rising up again), so no pegging him. He also is not exactly a sub while being ridden. There is always some distant sort of control understood by you both. His hands will hold your hips as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your moans sting his ears while he lightly bites at your collarbone. Nails digging into his back barely register with the sheer amount of pleasure. Though, he also certainly tops. The feeling of his desk pressed into your stomach as he ruts into you from behind is not uncommon at all. Any knocks on his door go ignored as the roughness of his thrusts grow, and he hits deep inside you.

☄️ The blue-haired man does not really have any specific kinks. Well, not any that he would care to name and acknowledge. Certainly, he shows a certain leaning towards being praised by you, however. It is very subtly and something that can be overly exploited. But, your words about how good he is making you feel or how wonderful he is make him suddenly need to work harder to please you – to meet your standards. He definitely leads to being dominant as well, but not anything domineering. Cyrus just prefers to have more of a sense of control.

☄️ The Galactic Boss honestly has low libido. He never thought much about it until it came to meeting his partner in the middle with the sex. If you have more than him, you likely will end up having to do much of the work since he just struggles to catch up to your needs. He does want to fulfil them usually, but he has moments where he offers a vibrating dildo he made for you and dips. Cyrus is difficult to arouse, too. The best way might be to use a few praises smartly on him and some well-timed affection. Suddenly, he is more agreeable and interested. A hand comes to rest on the inside of your thigh when he finally surrenders himself.

☄️ Dirty talk from his is honestly rare. He does not like to talk much during sex, since he tries not to force himself to think too much about everything that he wants to fret over. Sporadically, though, he does. His arms locked around you while you ride him in his lap, he pleads barely above a whisper, “Beloved… More.” You are much too eager to meet his simple quest. Or better, when he has you under him pressed against something and completely bottomed out inside you, he suddenly mumbles out, “Your body is so close to my idea of perfection… No other being could ever make me feel as you do.” He then picks up his pace, desperate to hear more of your lovely sounds.

☄️ His sexual “no 's” are pretty simple. He hates the idea of public sex, and he is not into any kind of impact play or choking. He just… cannot. That is not an appropriate way to treat a loved one, even if they consented. As stated, he does not feel comfortable with anal. Asking that of him will result in a firm no and plain refusal. Daddy kinks are also out. Does he look like your father – actually, don't answer that. He is only twenty-seven and calling him that is honestly repulsive to him. Not opposed to being called master, though. It might make him think of his subordinates, though. Otherwise, he is pretty good with most things.

☄️ His aftercare sucks. He lays there dead to the world, post nut and then gets up to take a long shower. You may join him, but it will absolutely not be anything sexual and be entirely focused on just washing off all the fluids from sex. Cuddling does not really usually happen, but there are a few times he makes an exception. There are few words spoken, too. Give him time to recover, he struggles with strong emotional states. He does care; he is just overwhelmed.

💍Steven Stone💎

🪨 He is pretty casual when it comes to sex, actually. Is he super experienced? Well, not overly so, but he is also not a virgin. As a champion and an heir to a company, Steven was not above having one-night stands and flings. He definitely had stopped after getting with you, though. He does feel a bit embarrassed to tell you about some of his past experiences.

🪨 Steven enjoys numerous things about sex. Being close to his lover, the overwhelming nature of it, how it acts as a bonding activity. He could go on and on about it. His positions are almost certainly quite plain. The chair position, cowgirl, missionary – He prefers facing each other. Watching how you react to him thrusting into you is part of the fun, and his expressions when you grind down on him certainly are absolutely worth seeing, too. His hands do always seem to be on you as well.

🪨 His locations for sex are pretty normal for the most part. When he is home, it is nice to have intimacy with you. The sounds of the waves lapping on the shoes of Mossdeep certainly add a lovely ambience. Hotel rooms are also quite common due to his frequent travelling. There is something thrilling about getting together in some of the more luxury places that he stays. When he was Champion, he also was not above having you visit him in his chambers for a round when it was horribly slow or in his office. Of course, the most debatable places are in caves. A few times of him fucking you above some stones and gems that he found absolutely beautiful were definitely not the best choice, but he was strangely infatuated with the idea.

🪨 Steven is pretty good at head and loves to do it. There is no sight more enchanting than Hoenn's pretty boy champion between your thighs. His light hair is surprisingly soft as it tickles your skin. The flat of his tongue presses right up against your clit just right to make your toes curl. His steely eyes stare up at you as he enjoys your reactions. The steel-type trainer does enjoy receiving, but not as much as giving. His hand rests on your head as your tongue swirls around his cock head Then, a lovely groan leaves him when you bring your lips to take his dick into your mouth. He is pretty easy to please, honestly.

🪨 Steven is also a switch, but he does not really skew any which way in dominating or being submissive. He likes to work with his lover on whatever they want for that particular session. The blue-haired man has been laid out on the floor of the champion's room while you rode him. You bouncing up and down on his dick left him completely wordless. His groans echoed off the wall to a point that he was worried Drake might pop in to check on him. Then, there are times he has had you pressed against the wall of a cave. Steven rutted into you as your walls tightened around him. His rings dug into your hips when he held on to you tighter. So, the trainer definitely works with whatever his partner wants.

🪨 Kink wise, Steven is also pretty vanilla. He certainly is willing to try a thing to please his partner, but he himself barely has any requests. The few he does have are weird. He loves to gift you jewellery with stones that he adores even more. Wearing them during sex triggers some odd ferocity in them as he watches them dance on your body. It probably is a unusual marking kink, but it seems to be more focused on the stones more than anything.

🪨 Steven's libido is pretty average. Not too high, not too low. He can easily meet whatever his lover's level is, whether they need more or less than him. After all, he does enjoy sex in general. Though, an issue might arise with how busy his schedule gets occasionally. He would try to make up for it whenever he could, though. It is really easy to get him going. You could boldly walk in front of him nude but with a few of those aforementioned accessories on, or you could just run a hand down his arm and mess with his rings with a few choice words. As long as he is not busy, he is down for a quickie.

🪨 Steven does not do the best dirty talk, but he may very well try. Nothing degrading, that is not something he likes, but he tries to focus on praise and compliments. “Mmm – yes, please more, it's so good,” he babbled out while your hand gripped his cock just perfectly. His eyes rolled back as he gripped his hand tightly. Or when you had him pressed against those fancy hotel sheets and his hands desperately held your hips, “My gem – you feel so good! You're more wonderful than the strength of a Carbink...” He always somehow manages in a random rock comparison, too.

🪨 His sexual “no 's” are pretty simple. He does not really like any kind of impact play or choking, so that is out, nor does he like a daddy kink or really any authority kink for him. Might be into playing along with his partner a bit, but not letting it completely overtake things. He does not truly want public sex (excluding caves). Degradation is out. He is pretty simple.

🪨 For aftercare, Steven does quite well. After you both come back down, he offers a bath to you and likely will join you to help scrub up together. He also loves a nice cuddle session afterwards and may even order take out if it worked up an appetite. He literally will probably do whatever you want to do to unwind. So, just ask away.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Heaven Sent You to Me

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.8k

TW/CW: umm we all know Greek Mythology is like screwed up right? So there’s mean patriarchal men in this, a bit of power play between Apollo and reader, innocence!kink, oral (f!receiving), PinV sex, loss of virginity, talk of pregnancy

A/N: YES I AM AWARE THAT I SHOULD BE WRITING THE MORE THE MERRIER OR ANSWERING THE OTHER 87 ASKS IN MY INBOX BUT MY MUSE IS FICKLE OKAY? She said “Oscar as Apollo or no words at all” so here we are 🤷‍♀️ I watched The Two Faces of January last week and kept thinking that Oscar looks like a Greek god and @lovely-cryptid ‘s greek mythology AU lives rent free in my head and I couldn’t help myself…

Also the title is a lyric from an Ariana Grande because I have fully reverted ten years writing a Greek Mythology AU for my fandom du jour with a song lyric title bc I'm ~artsy~

You should have known he was a god. The way his fingers seemed to fly over the strings of his lyre. That enchanting, mellifluous voice. The smile that shone brighter than the sun itself. You’d encountered him in the woods behind the temple consecrated to him for Zeus’s sake.

Though who could blame you for assuming he was a mortal man? What would a god, an Olympian, want with you – an unimportant peasant in a small, unimportant village? He’d appeared to you as a mortal, a beautiful, alluring one, but a mortal. In fact, he’d been rather short in stature. Apollo’s affairs and exploits were famous, nay infamous, and even now it seemed impossible to reconcile the man who had spoken to you with such sweetness, who had wrung ebullient laughter, as well as previously unimaginable pleasure, from you was the mighty god you and your family had worshiped since time immemorial.

The revelation that you had lain with the god of light, music, medicine, the averter of evil, had been one that raced your head endlessly over the past few days, but it never failed to send a shiver down your spine. You instantly conjured the broad, chiseled planes of his body, so starkly contrasted with the gentle way he’d made love to you. When you revealed that you were a virgin, he was tender with you. Fragments of memories flashed in your mind’s eye but the one that oddly lingered the longest, and the most vividly, was the sweep of his thick, dark lashes across his high cheekbone when his eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as he met his release. He had been the portrait of pleasure and beauty. You were truly a naive fool for not realizing the divinity in front of you in that moment.

“We must pray that you conceive,” your mother had declared. “You have already secured our family great status, but a demigod? Dmitri, can you imagine?”

Despite her praise, your cheeks burned in shame when she turned to your father for his reaction. You detested how openly and calculated this very intimate, typically private event in your life was being discussed. No one was supposed to know. Yet your sister had found the blood stains on your chiton while laundering it, and she’d coaxed the details out of you.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered.

“No.”

Her brows furrowed, “But you bled. It always hurts. It hurt my first time.”

“I…I don’t know. It didn’t. There was a–,” you blushed bright red and lowered your voice even further, “–a stretch, but it was pleasurable. I didn’t notice the blood until you did.”

Your sister was not willing to let it go. A trait among the women in your family that you’d failed to inherit.

“Well, how large was he?”

“Caris,” you urged her to stop. Yet, you knew your plea was useless, so you quickly approximated your lover’s size with your hands.

“Oh that definitely should have hurt!” Caris squawked in disbelief.

“I’m not talking about this anymore!” you proclaimed.

And that really should have been the end of it. Yet when you, Caris, and your parents made your weekly tribute at Apollo’s temple the following day the priests and acolytes were all abuzz. The god had appeared yesterday.

Initially, you had been as exhilarated as the rest of them, yet your stomach dropped and face blanched as the priest who had seen Apollo described him. Inky curls, olive skin, dark eyes with a strong brow and prominent nose. The god possessed an undoubtedly commanding presence, but there was a playfulness, an exuberance to him.

You and Caris traded bewildered glances. The priest’s depiction of Apollo matched up rather perfectly with Phoebus, the young man you’d stumbled across when you’d decided to take a walk through the forest rather than immediately returning home after your visit to the temple.

“It’s him,” she asserted lowly as you all headed back home.

“Shhhh,” you tried to speed up and away from her, a stupid idea because Caris had longer legs than you. When she inevitably caught up with you two seconds later, you insisted, “Don’t be silly.”

“Apollo is the god of healing and diseases. Is it really so far-fetched to believe that he could minimize any pain for his lovers? Especially the virgins?”

“Caris! Enough!”

The vehemence of your demand had caught your mother’s attention. While in the moment you were able to extinguish any suspicions she had, eventually Caris’s big mouth betrayed you. You had expected her to rage. To punish you. You, an unmarried, unbetrothed woman, had engaged in an activity that was the most important gift in your dowry to your future husband. You readied yourself for the insults and reproaches your mother would hurl at you for becoming damaged goods as a marriage prospect.

Yet, she all but kissed your feet when she found out. She rejoiced, then immediately marched you back to the temple to meet with the clerics. That was when the humiliation began. You were examined to ensure that you had in fact been deflowered. As if that hadn’t been degrading enough, you then were stripped and prayed over for hours, leering men begging Apollo for a sign to confirm that you were indeed the one the god had chosen to ravish. The manner in which the priests brusquely groped and prodded at you couldn’t have been more different than the way the deity himself had treated you, the god they claimed to serve.

When a sign didn’t immediately appear, doubt had set in. A mortal woman winning the attention of their patron god was the most momentous thing to happen in your village in generations, so if you were lying? Eternal shame. For you and your family.

You were kept overnight in the temple in a nicely appointed room, but forbidden to see anyone. You cried yourself to sleep, yet much to your relief, at dawn, Apollo provided the confirmation the priests needed and you were allowed to go. Of course, by the time you returned home, everyone knew.

After having a bit of time to contemplate it, you realized that it wasn't so much the fact that every single person in your life began treating you differently that unmoored and overwhelmed you, it was how swiftly it had all happened. It hadn’t been your choice.

You were required at the temple daily now for rituals. Thankfully, the fact you’d lain with a god disqualified you from becoming an acolyte, you were still needed for “veneration” purposes. You soon deduced this meant that the priests simply wanted to keep you around to curry favor with Apollo.

You hated it. You were the only one present in the chamber currently who had ever meaningfully interacted with the deity, yet you were reduced to a glorified altar ornament for their rites.

The only way to weather these hours-long sessions was to recall what brought you here in the first place. You retreated into your memory of that fateful afternoon when you met Apollo.

It’d been a beautiful day, and you were more at ease in nature. The hustle and bustle of the village and the imposing columns of the temple felt suffocating to you.

You’d heard him first before you saw him. The most beautiful music wafted toward you. You couldn’t have turned away if you’d wanted to. It was as if the mixture of the melody he played and the tune he sang had entranced your feet to carry you to the source of the sound. You hadn’t heard the song before, but inexplicably, it had an odd air of familiarity within your ears.

The sight of him initially seemed to be a joke. He had to be a mirage of some sort. A song so gorgeous coming from a man who was even more dazzling? Had you tripped and hit your head on your stroll from the temple? Surely you were dreaming.

His song ceased when he sensed your presence.

“I’m sorry,” your apology tumbled from your lips at once. “Please don’t stop on my account, I didn’t mean to–I’ll leave. I apologize for intruding.”

Before you could tuck and run, he called to you.

“Don’t! There’s no need.”

You froze, and slowly pivoted back to face him. He’d gotten closer to you, which was terrible for your clarity of mind. In addition to his good looks, he radiated an irresistible air of power, and his proximity only compelled you to submit to it more.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, the man before you turned boyish and shy before he queried, “Would you like to hear more?”

“Please.”

It was the first time you were treated to his smile. It reduced you to a blushing fool with a startling amount of efficiency.

He motioned to a nearby boulder for you to take a seat on. You obeyed instantly. He took his place on a nearby log and resumed plucking at his lyre.

His song was haunting, beguiling, and hopeful all at once. His voice lilted over the lyre’s strings. He sang in a language you didn’t understand, and couldn’t begin to identify, but you were captivated all the same.

You were slightly embarrassed, though not at all surprised, that there were tears staining your cheeks when he concluded.

He grinned dopily when he saw you dabbing at your eyes, “That bad, huh?’

“Stop,” You chuckled through your tears. “You have a gift.”

He shrugged off your compliment with a frustrating amount of nonchalance.

You needed to know more about this mysterious man. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m merely passing through.”

“Are you a minstrel then?”

He smirked as if you’d said something inadvertently humorous to him. “I suppose you could call me that.”

“Well, what should I call you then?”

“Phoebus.”

“Have you traveled much, Phoebus?” you inquired.

“I have.”

“Could you tell me about the places you’ve been? I’ve never left this utterly boring village.”

“I will, if you tell me what keeps you here. Is it your village’s association with the deity?”

You cocked your head in confusion. It was an odd question to you. You strove to answer diplomatically, “While I wouldn’t say that Apollo is driving me away, I wouldn't say he’s keeping me here either.”

Again, that secretive little smirk tugged at the corners of Phoebus’s quite luscious mouth. “I see. He’s vastly overrated isn’t he?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far to say that!” you attempt to course-correct. “We’re blessed with his patronage.”

A mischievous glint danced behind Phoebus’s dark, magnetic eyes. “Say no more. Now, where do you want to hear about first?”

He proceeded to regale you with tales of the most wondrous places. Of seas and mountains and monsters and the divine. You got lost within his stories. You wished you could live within them.

It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to accompany him on a stroll when he suggested it. Typically warnings would blare in your head - you must not stray any further with this handsome stranger, he could sully you, or worse, harm you, but you felt entirely safe with Phoebus. At the time, it had been impossible to put your finger on why you’d felt so. Now, it was abundantly clear: you’d been in the presence of one of the most powerful creatures in all of existence. Still, he chatted and wandered with you in a remarkably similar manner to mortal men your age.

When you two came across a river and Phoebus proposed a swim, your cheeks had burned with sheepishness. He hadn’t mocked or derided you, he simply offered to turn away while you undressed and submerged yourself into the water to afford you some modesty. However, Phoebus hadn’t been quite as bashful as you had been when disrobing. In fact, the flourish with which he all but flung off his chiton led you to believe he wanted you to watch him, rather than avert your eyes like you immediately did once you realized what he was doing. You hadn’t been quick enough however, and had caught a delectable glimpse of his toned chest, thick thighs, and what you deduced was a well-endowed groin.

You only dared look back up when you heard the splash signaling his entrance into the river. He resurfaced with his black curls matted and slicked back against his skull, an impish grin on his lips. He reached for you and you floated to him without hesitation. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, even though you two were the only people around for at least a mile.

“You may,” you granted him permission in a similarly hushed tone.

Your lips drifted together, and then it was as if you had become a feral animal let out of its cage. You couldn’t get enough. Your lips moved against his ravenously, your legs wrapping around his torso on instinct when he moved toward the river’s bank. While the press of his arousal against your hip was certainly a foreign sensation, you weren’t afraid. He deposited you on the warm silt for a moment before retrieving your tunic and laying it under you, a makeshift bed for what was about to come.

It was then that you confessed. You didn’t know what to expect once the words left your mouth - judgment, indifference, a perverse excitement - but Phoebus smiled softly, and nodded his head, as if he’d expected it.

“Then I shall show you how beautiful pleasure can be,” he vowed.

He took his time, dipping his head between your breasts to mouth at your pert nipples, then lower to between your legs. When the tip of his nose drew a featherlight line along the seam of your sex, you gasped. You may have been a virgin, but you weren't totally naive. Caris had been betrothed recently and regaled you constantly about her rendezvous with her soon-to-be husband, but she had never mentioned this. It was as if Phoebus was sending you flying through the clouds, straight to Olympus, with only his tongue. Your fingers had wound into his damp curls to hold on for dear life as you fell apart for him.

It wasn’t until your pleasure crested that he slid a thick, suspiciously uncalloused finger through your folds and pressed it inside. He cooed comforts to you when you tightened around him, your body’s first reaction to try and expel the intrusion. One digit became two, and after a while, he guided your hand to manhood, showing you how to grip him, coaxing and coaching you on how to bring him back to hardness.

Caris had always advised you to shut your eyes and not to look at a man’s member for too long, since it wasn’t the most pleasant of sights. She was wrong in this instance. Every bit of Phoebus was mesmerizing, and his erect cock was no different from the rest of him. His encouragements echoed in your ears as if he was speaking them to you in the present.

“Yes, that’s it sunshine,” he’d panted, “You can grip me tighter, oh, that is lovely. You are a fast learner, aren’t you? I’m going to make you feel so very good.”

Becoming one had been the most intense sensation you had ever endured. It was all too much, yet you wanted more. You keened when Phoebus had draped your legs over his broad shoulders to penetrate you deeper, your skin suddenly feeling too tight. It was too much, it was too much, you’d chanted to yourself. Phoebus’s girth was unrelenting, but at the same time you never wanted it to end.

Your lover was an attuned one, so when he observed that the position was perhaps too vigorous for his little virgin, he’d rolled you over so you were straddling his ample hips and speared on his desire.

“Here, grasp onto my shoulders,” he instructed you, “so you can control the depth and the pace, yes?”

Phoebus had long fucked the words out of you, so your reply came as a breathless, frantic nod. You wished to thank him, truly, you couldn’t have asked for a more considerate man to share this with for the first time. Instead, you did as he said and found a tempo and pattern of undulating your hips against his that suited you.

Phoebus couldn’t help himself, he began meeting your pelvis, thrusting up into you. You howled in pleasure, and his gaze instantly searched out yours to confirm those were good sounds instead of pained ones. He didn’t look away once he had found the answer he was hoping for in your eyes. Those deep brown irises had bore into yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more convinced you were they held galaxies.

You were so caught up in Phoebus’s gaze that you didn’t notice he’d snuck a hand in between your bodies until the pad of his finger connected with your sensitive bud.

“There you go sunshine, let go for me, you can let go.”

You felt as if you were going to explode out of your body as Phoebus continued to repeat those sweet-nothings as if they were a prayer.

“Let go for me darling, I know you can, let go–”

“You may go.”

The high priest's imperious tone snapped you out of your reverie. No longer were you in the forest with Phoe–Apollo, but rather the towering temple consecrated to him. Your relief that you could leave superseded your annoyance at being interrupted. You desperately needed to return to the privacy of your bedroom for a bit of self-relief.

Perhaps it was because you were in such a rush that you didn’t initially notice him as you flew out of the side entrance of the temple. It was his voice that stopped you.

“You’re not with child.”

“Holy Hera! You frightened me!” You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart.

“So you can stop fretting." Clearly, Apollo wasn’t particularly remorseful about the scare he'd given you. "Though to be honest, I’m surprised you’re relieved. Most women, beings far more divine than yourself, are usually thrilled to carry my offspring. They clamber for the chance and flaunt their bellies if they conceive.”

“I…I could not withstand the attention, I do not think. Nor the pomp and the responsibility.”

“The priests would help with the burden.”

“Yes but the child’s father wouldn’t,” you pointed out. “As great an honor to mother a demigod would be, I would prefer a…someone to experience it all with.”

Apollo nodded. “That I could not give you.”

“I know,” There was no resentment or disappointment in your voice. “I would never expect you to.”

“That must be why I yearn for you still,” Apollo mused, “why I cannot stay away.”

“I...my family is expecting me.”

Apollo was not accustomed to being refused. He fixed you with a look of amused incredulity after you spoke.

“I do not want them to know. Or anyone for that matter.” You realized how ungrateful you sounded. To spurn a god was to write your own death sentence. “Not that I don’t desire you, or that I wish to disregard your desires–”

“You want me all to yourself.” When you opened your mouth to amend his statement, he stopped you. “It’s alright. I want you all to myself too.”

“You have me,” you averred. “However, when the priests and my mother get involved…”

“I understand. I do not wish for fanfare either.” He pulled you close to him. Your breath hitched at the press of his hardness into your hip through both of your chitons.

Your mouths were millimeters apart. Instead of closing the distance, you asked, “Why did you tell me a false name when we first met?”

He smiled that bright, beatific grin that warmed you from the inside out. “I suppose for the same reason that you want to keep this a secret. If you believe your family is meddling, then mine is…”

Apollo didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. You giggled, a sound he much enjoyed. At last, he captured your lips with his. Kissing Apollo melted you, you became a molten, liquid being when he pressed his lips to yours.

As transcendent as the kiss was, the god could feel that you were holding back. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

You were not proud of the flip your stomach did at the pet name. Once you regained control of yourself, you replied, “Nothing, nothing at all. Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize, simply tell me what is bothering you,” he countered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

When you hesitated, his fingers tilted your head up so your eyes met. “I won’t be angry.”

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your complaint. It was funny, you’d spent your entire life beseeching Apollo for this or that in the temple, yet when he was standing right in front of you, eager to know what troubled you, you couldn’t find the words.

“Why me?” It was a deflection from Apollo’s question, but still a valid inquiry.

He chuckled. “You’re asking me to apply logic to attraction, something inherently instinctual,” Apollo pointed out. “Though if I had to try to put reasoning to it, I would say it was because you are kind, beautiful, you have a tight, juicy little cunt…” he cupped your mound to demonstrate his point. You gasped at the contact. “...and when I’m with you, I feel the most like a mortal that I've felt in decades.”

Mortal? Was that a bad thing? Were you unintentionally insulting the deity?

Apollo was quick to assuage you, “I enjoy it, sunshine. The immediacy, the urgency. It’s refreshing. You’re refreshing.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. You sought to return his kind words but what was there to say? It was obvious why a mortal such as yourself would fall for a god.

“Now, I won’t ask again. What vexes you?’

“I…after we…our first meeting,” you struggled to select the right words, “the priests wanted to corroborate that we’d lain together, and their methods were…they were not very gentle.”

Your lover’s eyes turned stormy. No sooner had you told him did a crack sound from what you guessed was inside the temple.

“No, please! Don’t hurt anyone!” you begged him just as swiftly.

Apollo’s face softened slightly. “Even after they violated you, you show them compassion. I swear to you I won’t, however, I must ensure that you, and by extension, myself are treated with respect.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. Gods were not known for their mercy, so the fact he was willing to compromise with you at all was a victory.

Apollo pulled you into another kiss that stole your breath. “If I cannot have you now…then tonight. When the moon peaks in the sky.”

“How will I find you?”

A smirk played across his lips. “Don’t fret, sunshine. I shall ensure it.”

A/N: Sooooo…what do we think?! 🫣 A little more flowery than my usual but I just had too much fun with this and now I have ideas for a few installments 🤦‍♀️

READ PART TWO

Tagging a few folks who might be interested:

@bitch4marvel @luciannadraven33 @oof-its-roobi @twwcs, @ninebluehearts @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction , @romanarose @dameronscopilot

[ghostisun]

Gospels

cw: smut (m x m) - minors dni; poly!ghouls (but there is only one main pairing explored); size kink; D/s (includes hints of subspace); male anatomy; mentions of squirting (stares at u guys bug-eyed); unrealistic and gratuitous sex // 994 words (read at ao3)

an: uhh first official smut work. im so nervous putting this out :< but uhh yea! hope u guys like it ^v^

There are many things Dew told them not to talk about—his apparent size kink so happened to be one of them.

Don't mind the fact that they're all into it, Dewdrop still refuses to admit that he’s got it. He refuses to admit that he mewls at being manhandled, his body locking in pleasure when he is picked up and fucked against a wall. He denies the way he slips underneath the fog when they have him on his back, his knees pressed to his shoulders, exposing all that he is to his mates who bear down all of their weight onto him.

He cums just like that—eyes rolling to the back of his skull, jaw hanging open for a soundless moan.

It is the sexiest thing ever, so of course they decided to see what else of his size kink could they exploit.

Currently, and no shock there, it were Mountain and Aether who could make him squirt, his cock leaking and his walls spasming around theirs as he whimpers and whines because they fucked him stupid. Because they hit somewhere just a little deeper, snug against the muscles of his flesh, and turned his brain into a little mush.

It makes him choke, his words gurgled.

He is so, so beautiful like this—his spun gold hair is sticking to his sweaty, flushed skin, and his lips are so kiss-swollen and spit-slicked.

“Shh,” Aether croons.

He has Dewdrop for today, and the others are left to hear and scent the peaking pleasure of their little firefly.

He pulled Dewdrop to his lap, the smaller ghoul’s back pressed flush against Aether’s chest. Dew’s naked, shivering, stuffed, and Aether is still fully clothed—a power play, one that had Dew hissing at him only to end up like this.

His legs are thrown over Aether’s, the tips of his toes don’t even touch the floor—this was actually what silenced Dew’s angry burst. He balked at the simple way that Aether reminded him of their size difference, of how greatly he outmatched Dewdrop, and he went putty. Shivering. Brain turned off as he pawed at the side of Aether’s leg because he still refuses to beg.

That’s fine, Aether didn’t need him to. After all, there were many more ways to render Dewdrop into a sobbing mess, and all it took was to strip him off his clothes and fuck his cock into Dew’s already leaking hole.

“So warm ‘round me, petal,” Aether murmurs, before leaning back into the cushions, body sagging into it in comfort. It jostles the two of them, driving Aether further into Dew.

The new breach has Dew warbling out a whimper, his breath rasping out in wheezes as pleasure razes him. He clamps down on Aeth’s dick, his body lifting as he squirms, toes curled, and his head falling into the soft pudge of Aether’s chest.

He is crying, outright sobbing at the overwhelming euphoria filling him up. Sharp nails dig into the flesh of his thighs, tearing the skin open—more bruises; more proof of how good they’d made him feel.

Aether goes cross-eyed himself, his breath turning into a gritted hiss at the tight clench of Dew’s walls. 

Satanas. 

Dewdrop is a marvel. He is a freakish accident because Aether knew, even when the denial was strong from Imperator, that the ritual forced onto Dew was intended to burn him into nothing. There were precedents of this ritual of course, but all the ghouls forced into it had died. They were not banished to the pits, instead, they perished. Not even their remnants remained. 

(Omega had warned him that the Church held no affection nor respect for their kind. It took Dewdrop’s elemental change for it to truly sink in.)

But their starfire survived. Amidst all odds, Dewdrop had gritted through the burning of his flesh and the emptying of his element, and forged himself into something extraordinary. He is a miracle.

And Aether could not fathom how blessed he is to have Dewdrop as his mate. That this little star is his.

“Fuck, Dew,” he moans, guttural, his hands tightening around the fire ghoul’s waist. He is so overwhelmed with his emotions, pleasure and affection and lovelovelove are all blending together. He staggers at the intensity of it all, the storm raging on in his chest.

His tiny mate is squirming, calling his name and yowling with pleasure, and Aether keens. He is so in love. So addicted.

Amidst the pleasure, he maps his hands—big and callused—along Dewdrop’s body. He traces the supple flesh, quintessence seeping into his touch as Aether loses his hold on his element, before his hands fall on top of Dew’s belly.

Aether stills, tamping down on the jitters that are racking his own body. He clears his mind, forces himself to focus because here, right here, is where he and Dewdrop are the closest.

“D’you feel me here, love?” Aether asks, his voice rumbling from his chest and reverberating into Dew’s back. He hooks his chin on the fire ghoul’s shoulder, his eyes flicking down to gaze at the flushed body of his mate. Pre- beads on the slit of Dew’s flushed cock, pearly and pretty, and Aether vows to get down to his knees and lap it all up later. Much later. Because for now—

“A-Aeth…” Dew mewls, too overtaken with his ecstasy to notice.

To feel what it is that has Aether’s heart hammering. So Aeth takes pity on him.

He puts pressure on his hold, his hand slowly digging into Dew’s stomach. Dew’s breath hitches, his eyes peeling open. Clarity seems to seep back into him, holding him suspended just for a moment as Aether pushes and pushes and—

“I’m all the way here, Dew.”

Dewdrop cums, just like that, with Aether’s name spilling from his mouth. 

Aether pets him throughout, whispering promises of filth and care into Dew’s ear because they’re just not done yet. 

The rest have yet to join them, after all.

[finniestoncrane]

To Use And Abuse

Dano!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2k Part 2 Here! commission: eddie breaks into the apartment of his no.1 fan to test how much they love him 🐀💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: humiliation/degradation, dubcon if you consider the fact he broke in, public sex/streamed sex

The notification lit up your phone. You hadn’t quite been aware of how dark it had become around you as you stared blankly at your TV until the sudden flash temporarily blinded you. But you could forgive the brief headache it caused when you saw what the notification was for. The two words that were sure to make your evening, regardless of what the day had been like, what your plans were, or where you were when they flashed up on the screen.

Incoming Stream

Luckily, you weren’t exactly the most social these days. It was hard to keep up with friends, or even make any, in Gotham. And those that you could get close to were always the first ones to leave. If you were lucky. Otherwise, it was a never-ending succession of funerals, where you were so numbed by constant grief that it was impossible to cry. No friends, Gotham had taken them from you. But luckily, one man was seeking revenge on your behalf. On everyone’s behalf, actually.

Shifting from your sofa to the second-hand and cluttered desk in the corner of your studio apartment, you set yourself up on the kitchen chair that you used for work. You could feel your heart rate rising as you waited for your shitty laptop to come to life, the browser already opening on the login page for the stream you were so excited for. And after a few moments of darkness, there he was. Dimly lit, covered in his mask and glasses. Commanding your attention. The Riddler.

A moniker he had only come up with the week before, it suited him so well. Gotham’s newest vigilante, a man who worked in puzzles and hints, a man who was a problem solver, not one who created them.

Giddy with almost schoolgirl glee, you leaned your elbows on the desk, your chin in your hands, and sighed as you stared at the screen. You were enthralled by him. In love with him really, or whatever was closest to love that you could experience with a stranger through a monitor. So much so that you could picture yourself, filtered in rose hue, a delicate glissando playing from nowhere as you drew a heart around his face with your finger. It felt like a sickeningly sweet moment from a romcom each time you were graced with the honour of listening to one of his sermons. All you wanted was to offer him your adoration and praise.

So, as you did each week, you began to type your feelings into the chat.

Your sermons mean so much to me. You’re truly like a preacher. You speak the good word. There is no God, there is no Gotham, only The Riddler. I worship you. I want to praise you at your feet. You’re our saviour.

Was it overkill? Maybe. But you were desperate for his attention. And not once had he ever given it to you. Others had been given a shout out when they had something to input, but your zealous and continued support and love were overlooked. It was becoming disheartening, but you were far from giving up. If anything, it only made you want him more.

And you knew how ridiculous that was, but far be it from you to care. Not now, not after months of dedicated lust and desire. Even after the stream had ended, you stayed on the site, staring at the empty, black screen. You could make out your reflection. Pathetic, desperate, delusional maybe. Scrolling through the chat, you scowled at the accolades and compliments that were delivered to everyone but you over the course of the brief time that he had been on the screen.

Eventually, you decided to close the tab, instead reverting to your second favourite hobby of scouring through articles about him. His exploits, so much speculation about his identity and his meaning, his future and the potential behind him, comparisons between him and the Batman. So few pictures of him outside of some lazy screencaps. But you were happy to stare at them for hours. You had, in fact. By the time you looked at the clock at the bottom of the screen, two hours had passed.

Reaching up to stretch, mindful of your horrid posture, you were caught on the inhale of a yawn as two hands reached around you. One clamped your mouth, stifling a quick to form scream, the other pressed tight to your sternum, keeping you still.

“You’re shorter than I imagined. Exactly as pathetic as I thought though. Your living arrangements almost make mine seem pleasant.”

You recognised his voice instantly, your ears and brain immediately catching on, your heart following quickly behind as its pace quickened, blood pumping vigorously, pulse insane, breath shallow and ragged.

“Oh my god… is it really you?”

He let out a soft giggle, his fingers tensing where they held you.

“You tell me, sweetie.”

Letting go of you finally, he watched as you sank into the chair and fell to the floor, clumsily pulling yourself up to stand in front of him. You couldn’t tell what his expression was below the mask, but you could only imagine it was a cruel grin from the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses.

“How… How did you… my door was locked… There was no information on my account… Everything was behind so many layers of security.”

 “Oh-ho-ho! You silly thing. Did you not realise I’d find you?”

“How… How did-”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot! That’s how. Did you really think you were protected by your pathetic security measures? That site was my kingdom!”

His voice flitted from the tones of anger to a lilting tune, as he delivered the next words in a taunting singsong, wagging his finger with the tempo of the tune.

“And I know everything that goes on in there.”

As you stuttered over confusion, trying to decide if you were more scared or more excited that the object of your obsessive desires was in front of you, he shook his head and sighed.

“Not quite the welcome I expected, a bit of a let-down like everything else in this world. I thought you said you wanted me here?”

He was stifling a giggle, his voice pitched high and strung with giddy glee.

“You do want me here, right? You weren’t lying? Because, heh…” the brief pause that he took to scoff, a derisive laughter that seemed to come from a place of sincere contempt, had you trembling slightly. Whether with anticipation, excitement or genuine terror you couldn’t be sure. Likely all three.

“…you know how I feel about liars!”

The sharp increase in volume was unexpected, but it was the way that he grabbed your waist and pushed you against the wall that made you choke on your breath. The gasp brought sharp and freezing cold air into your throat, not quite reaching your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a deep heat spreading through your abdomen, a distinct throb in your clit as you fought the urge to toss your head back and beg him to take you there and then.

Staring back at him, his eyes glinting, the only part of his face you could make out, you bit at your lip. Hidden behind the thick material was a hidden stranger, someone you might never know. He could be anyone, and the thrill of mystery had you salivating. You instinctively leaned into it. He was so unpredictable, committed to danger. There was no telling how wrong this could go if you displayed your desire to submit to him. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I-I’m not lying… I do want you here. I’m glad you’re here!”

Taking note of the tone in your voice, he felt his heart flutter. You weren’t lying, you were sincere. And you were his for the taking, as evidenced by how desperate you looked, how wide your pupils were, the way your chest heaved, back arching against the wall towards him.

“Then show me.”

His leather-gloved hands were on your shoulders, pushing you to your knees, and you followed easily putting up no fight. Once you were on the ground, you stared up at him expectantly, ready to obey his next command.

“Bow down then, worship me.”

As you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, you felt the sudden pressure of his weight between your shoulders. He pushed you down further, your chest and stomach flush with the ground, his heavy boot refusing to let up.

“Lick them.”

You looked up at him, expecting to meet his eye, the view blocked instead by his cell phone which pointed down at you. It was difficult to avoid the lens as it focused on you, recording your sudden flushed cheeks and trembling lip.

“Show them all how great you think I am. Lick my boots, that’s what you’re all about, huh?”

He watched you staying there, completely still, clearly in need of some more encouragement.

“Or are you suddenly so shy?”

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, straining his ear towards you, placing a hand behind it dramatically.

“Hm? I can’t hear you, little princess. Speak up. Or start licking.”

Still unsure of what to do, your mind telling you to hold off a moment longer, your body trying to follow his demands with foolish zeal, your hesitation brought out a softer side of him. With the camera of his phone still pointed directly at you, he lowered himself briefly to you. His gloved hand brushed your dark bangs away from your face briefly, his wide eyes fixed on yours as he thumbed your cheek. And his voice was surprisingly gentle and cooing, in contrast to the sickening words that it spoke.

“Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the stream. I’m sure they already think you’re a pathetic little slut, you don’t want them to think you’re an idiot too. Or are you? Are you just a stupid girl whose desperate cunt gets hot and wet and throbs at the first sign of a man who takes action?”

You could feel yourself nodding, agreeing with him despite your own morals and ethics shouting against it.

“Well, that’s good news then! Be the stupid little bitch you are and start. Licking. My. Boots.”

You looked directly into the lens of the camera before lowering yourself, determined to give them a show. Committed to letting everyone, not just the Riddler, know how keen you were to please him. And staring into his eyes, you pressed your tongue out, mouth wide and ready. And finally, you let the tip flick over the toe of his boots. A sensation he surely wouldn’t have felt through the thick material, but which made him throw his head back with a sigh regardless.

With a moan, you covered more of the surface area in your saliva, satisfied, body aching with want as you listened to his breath hitch. It stopped suddenly though, his head lowering back down to catch your eyes, his hand on the back of your head, pulling you up.

“See? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. That’s a good, stupid, pathetic girl. And who do you worship? Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir.”

As you nodded, he mimicked you, his nods more frantic, almost cruel in the way he seemed to be mocking you. Soothing over your cheek with his hand before slapping it twice, you could see the edges of his mask shift as he smiled wide.

“What a good little bitch you are.”

Hooking his thumb over your bottom lip, he felt his chest hitch as you began sucking it. Clearly well trained, even if he had no part in it. There was a lot to you that he was keen to explore, physically and mentally. There was every chance that you would make the perfect subservient captive, a plaything to relieve his stress at the end of a busy day of his own brand of vigilante justice. His disgusting, pathetic slut. His to use and abuse. And you’d probably thank him for it. The thought of which sent a twitch through his cock, which had begun to harden the minute you had opened your whorish mouth and done exactly as he’d commanded. If only the rest of Gotham would bend to his will so easily.

[stopscammingartists]

Floraverse + Glitchedpuppet's Abusive History Masterlist

General Good Sources:

The House That Monsters Built

7 Part documentary series on Glitchedpuppet, PMD-E, and Floraverse's troubled history of child exploitation, animal exploitation, and abuse.

floraverseisacult.com

An overview of on Glitchedpuppet, PMD-E, and Floraverse's troubled history of child exploitation, animal exploitation, and abuse but in a website format. Includes sources to back up every claim made, examples of how Scenes are a toxic practice, and an explanation on Floraverse's cult tendencies.

A Timeline of Events

A general time line of Glip's informed complicity in Marl's sex crimes against animals and children. If you don't want to spend a lot of time reading about this, then this post is the one to click on.

Names / Pronouns

Glitchedpuppet / Glip / Papayakitty / Ash - They/Them

Eevee / LexyEevee / Veekun / Squishfox - She/Her

Pengosolvent / Pengo - He/Her

Opa / opaopa13 / Tem - He/They

Iz / Woz / W0z / TanukiBathhouse - They/Them

Samaelbretondragon / Samael101 / Sunbe - She/They

Marl Sexually Abused Minors & Animals

[cw: Beastiality, Pedophilia]

➳ Lain's Story

➳ Rootie's Story

➳ Chat logs between Marl and Big Fluff

Glip was Aware that Marl was Sexually Abusing Animals

[cw: Beastiality]

➳ Marl convinced Glip to be filmed engaging in beastiality.

➳ Marl convinced Glip to engage in beastiality a second time.

➳ Exty had informed Glip that Marl showed them pornography of their pet dog Apollo in 2013 after Marl cheated on Glip with Exty.

➳ Eevee was likely aware that Marl was sexually abusing the family dog Apollo and children in her IRC too and choose to protect him.

➳ Apollo was walking around their home with mittens on his front paws, a common practice to prevent a dog from scratching someone when mounting.

Weird Zoophilic / Pedophilic / Sex Pest interest Glip + Eevee has shown

➳ Glip has a grooming fetish for showing children pornographic content by an "experienced person" and "innocence being broken".

➳ Glip's cat Twigs would try to essentially perform oral sex on them and this happened enough times that Marl became jealous of the cat. During PMD-E, there was a marriage arc & Porn between Glips self insert character and a Persian named after Twigs.

➳ Eevee avoids labeling her fetish game as a fetish game and advertises it to the Floraverse server full of minors.

➳ Glip has drawn feral porn and references photos of animal genitalia for their porn art.

➳ Eevee's weird ass decade long tendency of "accidentally" defending child porn, incest, and zoophilia.

➳ Glip believes that people can "let themselves be raped" and is sympathetic to the rapists in these situations. Glip described a character who was bound and gagged without consent, who states outright 'This is not what I came here for' as an example of a character who "let themselves be raped."

Other examples / stories of people being abused or berated by Glip or their inner circle

➳ Opa - at the time 37, convinced a 19 year old Jolly to move across state lines to live with with him. He exposed his genitalia to Jolly within a week of them moving in. Opa ended up evicting Jolly leading to Jolly attempting suicide twice.

➳ Rina's zine on how they where abused by the Floraverse community. Talks about how Iz/W0z ("The Predator") groomed her and created a visual novel depicting her COCSA story and her being raped by a doll.

➳ Pengo, Phoebe, and Japhet berated bring-out-the-dead over the span of several days, almost causing Boo to attempt suicide.

➳ Glips tendency to depict cruel caricatures of people in their webcomic.

➳ Pengo and Glip ganging up on and harassing someone in the server over sharing a personal poem.

➳ Kasran berates Bex for recognizing they where being abused and leaving the community & Glips caricatures of Bex that where put into Floraverse.

➳ Pengo harassed someone and initiated a server dogpile - bullying them for making a joke about banana juice.

➳ Roleplaying a court-hearing to humiliate and ban Nichole.

➳ Pengo and Glip ganging up on and harassing someone for not roleplaying properly in the community.

➳ Eevee refers to 2 of the children Marl sexually abused (Lain and Big Fluff) as just 'kiwifarmers'.

➳ Glip and Pengo berated someone for being uncomfortable that someone who doxed them was allowed in the Floraverse community.

➳ Floraverse admin samaelbretondragon / Samael101 / Sunbe / Creator of So Sorry in Undertale is complicit in the sexual abuse of children and minors - and so is a lot of the fatfur community, frankly. They collectively run goth_gator off twitter using right-wing and transphobic arguments, while sending him gore, for speaking out against the sexual abuse of children.

Glip is extremely cruel to victims of abuse when the abuser is someone they like

➳ Glip & Eevee slandered Lain over the span of years and called them a "fucking parasite" because the 13 year old spoke out about Marl sending her photos of dog genitalia - while knowing Marl was a zoo. [cw: Beastiality, Pedophilia]

➳ Glip thinks Opa shouldn't have called 911 because Jolly, the "deadly parasite" attempted suicide and "who cares if the deadly parasite dies". [cw: Suicide]

➳ Glip happily hosts the visual novel Iz made of Rina's COCSA that depicts them as a doll and gets raped on their porn site. They also lie about this visual novel being about Rina's COCSA story and being about Rina despite Iz admitting to both being true. [cw: Rape]

[critterkiddo]

⚠️ CW: mentions of CSA, grooming, CSEM ⚠️

A moderator of Oddballs, Dave @str1derpunk, @davetastic, @illpunk or @/turntechgodhead was caught with CSEM exploited from 3 minors he was groomimg. His now ex roommate has kicked him out but of course did not pursue any legal action, Dave has been out on the streets since April 11th. Testimony from the ex roommate will be below.

[ramu-ego]

(nsfw) EROGENOUS ZONES :: xfemdom!Reader

@kisa-rae oh I'm gonna include Ego in this but also totes exploiting your man in this one ♡ - askbox open cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, aged up, sexual themes word count: sloppy character headcanons character(s): Jinpachi Ego, Gin Gagamru, Hyoma Chigiri, Itoshi Rin, Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage

DNI :: minors, blank blogs + m!Reader blogs

NECK NECK NECK NECK-

why else do you think it's shaved so neatly all the time?

the nape of this man's neck is his mortal weakness in every life he's ever been born into

just so you understand....it's his neck

kisses on the back of his neck while he's working, eating or literally anything else will immediately turn this man on

absolutely weak for things to happen behind him and simply scrape your nails up his shave or curl your fingers around his throat just to rub your thumbs up the back of his neck has him dropping whatever is in his hand

this extends generally to his shoulders, his ears, running your fingers through his hair too

kiss the back of his neck and you better expect to have the rest of the day off because he's not letting you tease him

take care of this man's needs or he'll make it your problem if you kiss on him like that or touch him in general

CURSED BONUS: his ankles, his feet in general are a ticklish but kiss or touch his ankles during intimate moments is as bad as kissing the back of his neck

thighs

THIGHS FOR DAYS

grip them, squeeze them, kiss them, bite them; literally any touch on this man's thighs is the express button to fucking

you just going to be cute and tuck your hand in his thighs when you're sitting out on a beautiful winter day?

think again he's hard the second your fingers curl into the thickest part of his thigh

straddling and grinding on his thighs are just as much of a rush for him as it is for you

has a preference for his inner thighs to be touch but there's a secret second spot if you grab right under his ass leaves him weak in the knees

cover em in hickies by the way it's his favorite trophy to wear into the locker room

CURSED BONUS: the space right between his shoulder blades, he can't touch it but if you drag your fingers down it during sex he will almost always blow his load

most the time they're covered but...EARS

ear lobes to be more precise in fact

why else do you think he keeps them covered all the time?

talking/whispering/kissing around his ears is a surefire way to remind Chigiri that he can still paint the inside of his pants with cum

absolutely loathes being tickled for the most part but his ears are on another level

that level is connected straight to his dick and no matter what he cannot avoid it

especially fond of dirty talk in the most hushed voice you can manage

nasty words and your breath tickling his ear can take any situation from tepid to steamy

CURSED BONUS: the back of his legs are nearly as ticklish as his ear but grope them firmly to get the best reaction, preferably while he's on his stomach so he can't get away from you

HIS MID SECTION

from his navel to the small of his back, a complete 360 around that toned core and you will find Rin's absolutely most sensitive area

special dedication to right under his belly button or right above his butt will have him drooling in no time

this is why massages are doubly dangerous for him

touch or tickle doesn't matter bc your hands on his waist makes Rin loose his fucking mind even on a good day

kiss the small of his back while he's face down and this pro will curse you out until he can't breath because he came all over what's under him

grip his sides while he's on his back and watch him utterly go some place else for a good five seconds because of it

CURSED BONUS: his scalp is ridiculous and playing with his hair without giving him more will in fact create the crankiest brat in the world

this lazy shit's cliche but with a twist

THAT NECK but you need to do more than just kiss it

tickling kisses and light touches are alright but throw in a little roughness around the edges to how you do it and that's got him putting down the phone

if Nagi's sitting down and you casually slip your fingers around the back of his neck (even if it's innocent while you tell him or Reo something) he will immediately put the game down

we're talking full on trained dog behavior

rub your thumb over the side of his neck if you're just casually resting your hand there and he can't focus

yes he will expect you to notice when he's dead silent and not looking at his phone screen if you happened to touch his neck

choking him is on an entirely different level for this man

CURSED BONUS: his hair and no that's not exactly his scalp it means his actual hair, twirl it around your fingers and give it a tug leaves him like a mutt on a leash ready to follow you

Reo will adamantly deny this but also demand said touch in the greediest of ways when you do

nothing compares to this man's NIPPLES

his chest in general is overly sensitive compared to most people

the area around his nipple, under his breast, the sides leading up to his armpits, all of it will and does make him squirm

exceptionally fond of faint touches that are drawn around the area in question

safe to say his areolas might in fact be the most sensitive thing on him and a light touch has him begging shamelessly in thirty seconds or less

CURSED BONUS: not far off from his bingo card, this man's under arm/armpits send him to dizzying new heights if you touch them right

[durrtydawg]

any headcanons on Sam & somnoph1l1a? worried that i'm the only one that thinks it's hot :3 (love ur writing, chica)

Ohhh, anon, you are NOT alone.

Not headcanons, but here are some thoughts i've had regarding Sam returning from a trip and feeling a little... needy.

Somnophiliac!Samuel Drake x F!Reader

NSFW request

CW: 18+. poorly written soft somno smut drabble under the cut & minor cnc <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Sam can’t deny that he’s been deprived of all sorts of creature comforts for weeks. Despite reluctantly being reeled back into the dull thrum of domesticity, the sight of you fast asleep, legs and blankets tangled in in a cozy mess while you softly snore through the slight pout in your lips is something that he’s craved more than any treasure. 

It’d be completely fine if he just… slipped into bed beside you, leaning up on his side as he takes in the sight of every curve, every dimple, every freckle on your body that he’s missed oh so much.  You’re sleeping so soundly, it'd be rude to wake you up and regale you with anecdotes from his latest exploits, though, it surely wouldn’t be a problem if he just edged a little closer, just to stroke that stray strand of hair out of your closed eyes- It'd be fine if he lightly pressed his nose against the crook of your neck to breathe you in for a moment… you do share this bed, after all.

Your scent is enough to send his mind reeling and his blood pumping. So, he kisses your skin; tenderly, sweetly, slowly enough that each peck remains almost silent as they fall in a trail down your neck and onto your shoulder.

Maybe it’s the cool night air drifting in through the window, or maybe it’s just the feeling of his lips on your skin, but the stiffening of your nipples, clad only by one of his many stolen t-shirts, fails to go unnoticed, and an experimental tracing of his fingertips over the fabric isn’t the most absurd idea in his head.

Neither is rolling up the shirt in its entirety, exposing your breasts enough to caress, lap at, and nibble in a way that makes you sigh softly, even in your unconscious state. So soft, so pliable in his hands; a complete contrast to the cold rigidity of the firearms and ancient masonry that he had grown accustomed to over past weeks.

He really ought to stop there, but the sight of your plush thighs softly squeezing together, and the parting of your lips as your body unknowingly reacts to the sensations sparking through your chest all simply spur him on just a little more. He wants to feel you up more. God, he wants to fill you up. 

Sam’s got you right where he wants you- all worked up, brows furrowed as your body absentmindedly responds to his touch, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you roll onto your front.

His boldness overpowers the last of his restraint as his fingers pulI aside your underwear, deftly and delicately gracing between your folds, scooping up the developing slick as crinkles of something akin to frustration form on your brow. A soft whimper from you is enough to render him primal. Bolder still, he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, sliding them slowly down your legs, eyes flitting back and forth between your sleeping face and your thighs as he presses soft kisses onto the backs of them. 

He’s obsessed with how pretty you look. How peaceful and how oblivious you are to your own arousal dampening your core. He’s literally throbbing with want as he looks at you, desiring more than anything to bring you over the edge without you even knowing.

So he gives into that desire, gently spreading your legs so you’re perfectly exposed to him as he kisses your neck and whispers something teasing about how wet you are, all before sliding into you slowly, trying so hard not to stir you awake just yet. God, you feel so good squeezed around his thick cock, and as you writhe ever so slightly, he has to fight back the groan trapped at the back of his throat. His movements are slow- just enough to stretch you open without waking you, but enough for your hands to tighten their grip on the sheets strewn around you.

He gently presses his weight down, arms snaking around you to hold you in place beneath him, and this is when he finds nothing more arousing than the thought of fucking you awake. Seeing the adorable confusion take over your sleepy expression, followed by the rising of heat in your cheeks as you realise what’s happening, only to be stopped from speaking by the moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips as he takes you harder. 

So when you finally do wake up and this exact sequence of events takes place, you aren’t even given time to moan out his name before he covers your mouth, muttering a “Shhh, it’s just me, Princess. It’s okay,” as his other hand props your hips up at an angle at which he can hit you deeper. “Just looked so… pretty- couldn’t help myself.” He growls into your ear, your eyes squeezing shut as his movements elevate in aggression, just how he knows you like it. “Atta girl, just take it for me, huh?”

Your muffled grunts and whimpers gradually increase in pitch as his hand moves from your hip in search of your clit, and before you know it your climax crashes over you, your pussy spasming around him as he keeps you held down. Your pillow muffles your rasped cries as he continues to repeatedly bury himself into you, eventually letting out a heavy grunt as he cums, filling you up as you lie face-down in an exhausted, post-orgasmic daze. In a daze of his own, he pulls you onto your side, keeping himself nestled inside you as you both get your breath back, your thighs twitching as his seed threatens to spill out and onto them.

With a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck and a whispered praise or two, you both fall asleep again. God knows, he’ll probably be hard again before you wake up.

[throwaway-yandere]

Saudade (Yandere!Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader)

A/n: it has been 500 years since I turned off my brain and wrote something out of pure passion lmao dimitri my beloved &lt;333

Unreliable Synopsis: Circumstances won't allow you to be around the crown prince of Faerghus' side, and it wasn't as if you want to be near him either after allying with House Gloucester. Besides, if there was one person you want from your past back, who else would it be other than your old womanizer best friend? (Cw: yandere themes, violence, war)

commissioned by: @poptartsthings (holy sht thank you for making my first commission to be dimitri fic aaAAHHHHH--)

“You should just send them your letter– say that you’re sorry.”

"Uhuh, but what if he doesn't remember me anymore, Raph?"

"Well," Raphael placed both his hands behind his head, lolling back as he reeled a fish in. "There’s just no way. Based on your stories, I think he’s in love with you, (Y/n). You can't just ignore him forever, ya know?"

You raised an eyebrow, "yes, I can. It's not like there are tons of situations where I need to interact with the crown prince."

"Okay, true... But maaaaaybe you can try eating lunch with him!" Raphael brushed against your shoulder "There's nothing that can get people to open up like a good meal together. Maybe you can steal a seat– oh, and sneak in his favorites on his plate too."

You chuckled softly, "I think that method only works on you, Raph."

"Nonsense!" He said, shaking his head earnestly. "It also works on my baby sister!"

You snorted.

Your housemates are endearing. Truthfully, you never would have expected that it's comfortable in the Golden Deer. Your heart desired to become a Blue Lions graduate like your parents, but familial circumstances or lack-there-of forbade any opportunity. Had life been easier on you, your dorm wall would've sported your family’s blue flag.

And not Gloucester’s.

Since your parents perished in what is now known as the “Tragedy of Duscur”, Count Gloucester assumed responsibility of being your legal guardian. Your parents had always thought of Lorenz’s father as a close ally. Plus, this arrangement was better than living up the frigid north with estranged minor noble relatives who gave you an even more colder shoulder.

However, thread any less carefully around the Alliance, and you might find yourself under his conservatorship forever. You just have to thank the Blue Sea Star that you didn’t bore a crest lest you’d be engaged to Lorenz. Uncle Erwin is a wonderful father to him and he doesn’t treat you with malice either— but of course, he keeps an eye open to morally gray opportunities to exploit your title.

And that includes listing your name amongst the Golden Deers.

At first, you were hesitant in showing that you're an “outlier” in class, but it seems you fit the mold quite easily. Too easily. Not because you had been accustomed to their social norms, it is more like the fawns are oddballs themselves. The youngest was an enchantment waiting to explode, your largest was a total muscle-head, the house leader has a screw loose when it comes to strategic retreat and poisoning, and the rest are just as eccentric.

No one cares if you told them you have an affinity for theater here, and spoilers: they really did not give a damn. Except for maybe when Ignatz genuinely went "oh, that sounds wonderful, (Y/n)!" before the conversation digressed about Leonie's mismatched socks she bought on the market.

Oh, but Raphael and Claude did care when they found out that you might've had a long but faded friendship with at least four of the Blue Lions. Compared to Claude, you trust that Raphael comes from a good place whenever he brings them up. Since he and Ignatz were childhood friends who slowly grew apart, he has your best intentions whenever he suggests something that could reignite your relationship with either Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, or Prince Dimitri.

Claude, on the other hand…

The house leader first emerged as a shadow, then he sat down and squeezed between you and Raphael, with his arm encircled around your waist. Claude's apparent lack of etiquette went unmentioned by either of you (you suspect Claude is part-Almyran), but you do intend to ignore him later like your "foster brother" does.

"Trading secrets about Prince Dimitri, are we? Won't ya invite poor me along in your little secret meeting?”

You sighed tiredly, "Claude–"

"I was just kidding. No need to give me that face," Claude raised his arms defensively. “My lips are sealed— I never heard a single word between you two, promise.”

The deers were a little leery of your prior association with the crown prince of Faerghus. Claude, who frequently pries into everyone's private affairs, persistently diverted your focus to the Lions. In fact, he once burned your favorite book to forcibly draw your attention to the library so that you'll share the same room with Dimitri. Talk about extremes, really.

But you did notice that there's something off about Claude this time.

“So what brings you here? There’s no way you’ve come here to fish.”

“Yeah, no…” He cringed. “I’d rather do the eating part.”

“Haha, you get it, Claude!” Raphael said before the two men shared a crisp high-five.

Ah, these fawns…

You sighed, “can we skip to the part where you explain why you’re sitting beside me right now?”

“Sure. Leonie wanted me to tell you that Lysithea told her that Lorenz was told by Prof—”

“Do you not know the meaning of “skip”, Riegan?”

“Nah, course I do,” Claude smirked. “It’s just fun to tease people who live in House Gloucester.”

“Sothis, have mercy.”

“As I was saying, Lorenz was told by Professor Byleth to tell you that Sylvain is now part of the Golden Deer.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“… What?”

There was no dramatic gasp. Nothing sensational or derogatory comment was elicited from impetuous lips. You simply blinked and said the words "what? as if it were a simple joke. Claude needn’t explain that those were facts. Based on how he approached with worry written on his face that he failed to hide from you, he wasn't jesting.

You're reluctant to speak with Sylvain. You last spoke to him in earnest four years ago. Don't get it twisted, you do want to get back in touch with that philanderer's good graces, but where would you even start?

Dear Sylvain, I’m sorry for ignoring your letters? Dear Sylvain, I’ll reimburse you for all the theater tickets you gifted before without my consent? Dear Sylvain, I’m a garbage best friend?

… Knowing him, he’d likely frame that letter with careful preservation while the ink from his heaps of love letters faded inside his shelf collection. If you were to send similar letters to the other two, Felix would train to become a mortal savant and burn the letter out of spite, and Ingrid would have simply torn them up.

“WOAH!!!”

Raphael's chest caught your attention for a brief moment, and you quickly avoided him, concerned that those wooden buttons will suddenly protrude into your eyes. Your housemate captured the fish without even feeling his buttons tear apart from his outfit.

Goddess Messenger.

That’s quite an expensive catch right there.

But it felt like an omen for something.

“… I’m heading back to my dorm room.”

“Want us to go with you?” Raphael offered, but he reeked of fish.

“No, I’ll head there alone.”

Claude tilted his head, “Sylvain is probably there, you know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I’m tired.”

“I just can’t run away from the lions anymore.”

You should’ve taken your words literally.

Instead, the phrase "I need to get over this, fast" resonated in your thoughts, and you bolted as soon as the impulse to settle everything fueled your anxiety. You should have cared if someone got in your way, but you didn't.

“Ngh—” you flinched, bumping into someone’s back. “Whoops— sorry about that—”

You froze as you looked up.

Great. Just your luck.

“… What is there to be forgiven, (Y/n)?”

And of course, he called you by your first name. Your arguments against Raphael were demonstrably false. A futile hoax. Why even try to imagine that he might have forgotten about you?

Dimitri smiled softly, his eyes crinkling in delight. You gulped shakily.

After all, how can the crown prince ever forget his first love?

Now that you took a good look, his hair was much shorter than how it used to be and he grew positively taller. It’s a haircut you took a while to get used to, especially since you recalled how his hair used to hover near his shoulder. Not that you didn’t know about any of this information already. It’s just that you had to reassess those facts after seeing him up close. Perhaps a bit too close for comfort.

If only your last memories with him were as pleasant as his face.

He wanted you as his consort, but you had nothing to offer him. No land, no worthy title befitting for a king’s spouse, and no true inheritance in your arsenal at age 15. But when one has less to lose, they become more introspective. While clinging to Sothis' statue and pleading for life, they gain wisdom. Unlike the prince, you were not naive to what could befall the kingdom if you were to marry him. Instead, you sought asylum by knocking on Uncle Erwin’s door with the few loyal servants to House (L/n) left, and he accepted your offer after days of consideration.

His name will be tarnished as a young traumatized prince who copes by spoiling a love unrequited. But most of all? The loss of his friends and family would’ve developed his separation anxiety towards you more if you stayed.

The prince was something of a doormat teenager. He begged and nearly cried when you had accidentally slipped out that you’ll be allying with House Gloucester– but stopped his outburst the moment you chewed him out with hurtful phrases. Dimitri clung onto you like an affectionate pup and if his childhood self could latch on for the rest of his life, he would in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was the side-effect of being his first friend. He had always been a genuinely kind person, but he was always so caught up in whatever happened in the past.

Was it rational or heartless to leave him and the rest of your companions behind? Likely both, if you were to ask El.

That doesn't mean you don't occasionally catch a glimpse of him at the officer's academy. It's hilarious how, after Dedue performed his duties as a vassal, Dimitri now had to cope with a situation that was identical to yours. A "protector" so dependent… it was as though you were watching the prince try on your shoes. Your “you don’t have to shield me every time we go to the training grounds” line became His Highness’ catchphrase towards his retainer. And you’re not sure what to feel about that.

Was it comedy or plain karma? Likely both, if you were to ask Claude.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you bowed. There would’ve been more eyes on you inside the cafeteria if you hadn’t. Gossips of lese-majeste would’ve stirred even Lindhart awake. “Do you require something from me?”

Formal.

Too formal for him, but not formal enough for you.

Dimitri's brows wrinkled, and you briefly saw his lip tremble. His hands were behind his back, and one of them was discreetly and firmly gripping his wrist. That man had a pained, speechless expression on his face, and you don't hold him responsible when words fall short.

But when words do fail, you wished he could just stop talking whenever he feels overwhelmed.

“I…”

I miss you. So much.

You didn’t need to hear it to know what he wanted to say.

Princess Edelgard was right, Dimitri is wholly predictable.

He cleared his throat, ears turning red.

“It had been so long since we had last spoken, has it not?”

“It has.”

“Around 4 years, so I'd say.”

“Hmm. So it has,” you doubt he noticed how your words were curt and redundant, since he's too busy trying not to melt. “So it has.”

“Are you enjoying the Golden Deer house, s-so far?” Dimitri manufactured a smile. “I’ve heard you and Lorenz made for a wonderful tag team at the last House Tournament.”

Bullshit.

He didn’t just “hear” about it.

You saw him cheer for you giddily in that tournament.

There is nothing he can conceal from you. If he were as cunning as Claude, it might take you some time to discover who was responsible for leaving sloppy, "anonymous" love letters inside your dorm. There were also petals tucked inside. Pink camellias, a sign of longing.

“It’s a feat not worthy of your praise, your Highness.”

Seriously, you don’t want to hear him flatter you anymore.

“Simply untrue,” he shook his head earnestly. “I’ve also heard that—… Y… You are fond of Raphael. As a friend— of course. It’s relieving to know that you have many companions from different walks of life— which is to say, I approve of whoever you talk to, but—”

You’re not deaf. You noticed how much his words were about your relations with others. There’s no other interpretation to this other than jealousy.

Still, his face was red. He must be too caught up in the joy of talking to you that he didn’t care for how envious his words sounded. You laughed curtly. You want to remind him the reason why you left, but you can’t explain a thing despite desperately wanting to, just like him.  

Dimitri wants you back, so much so that he's stuttering in every sentence.

But you didn’t reply to his ramblings. Save for the cafeteria hall’s chatter, it was silent. You’ve long accepted in your heart that your family is dead and you ought to coast forward. 

And there’s no future where you will cut through a path beside Dimitri. 

Besides, House (L/n) had histories of trading tactics with Leicester, and you cannot discount how people refer to your blood as sheeple with its loyalty. It’s a double-edged sword, one you’d utilize well if you close your eyes right now and ignored the heartbreak and yearning in his eyes.

And so, you closed your eyes.

“My apologies, I’m in a hurry so I’m afraid I have to get going. Farewell, Your Highness.”

Dimitri's eyes widened, trying to reach for your arm.

“(Y/n), please wait–”

But you were already gone.

“Hey there, (N/n)!”

It was only when you heard a familiar voice did you open your eyes again.

An attractive and familiar young man lazily leaned on one hand on your door, completely blocking your dorm room. “Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you just going to ignore me for the rest of the school year?”

He’s here.

You steeled yourself.

“Gautier…” You exhaled.

“Oof, “Gautier”, they said,” he frowned. “Not a single “I miss you, Sylvain”? No “gosh, sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long, I was just too shy to admit that I was wrong!”?”

You chuckled nervously.

“Perceptive as ever, I see.” But you weren’t wrong. Becoming a Golden Deer was the right path for you.

“Not perceptive, but hopeful really,” Sylvain shrugged. “Based on that reply, I’m glad my wishful thinking was spot on. You do miss me.”

“I do, but I now just realized I’m not prepared for this conversation,” you said, surprised by your upfront and composed anxiety. That talk with Dimitri seriously drained all the energy you garnered earlier. “Can we do this later?”

“No can do. I shall allow you passage if thee speaks from the heart,” he teased with his signature ladykiller grin. “Go on, say it~”

You sighed, burlesquely exasperated.

The two of you adore theater, so talks like these were commonplace. He’d mask his flaws when confessing sins in this manner, but you prefer to hear his real justifications. In any case, this is just another conquest for him to gad off and hunt some girls in another house— and your new professor is undoubtedly a sight to behold.

“Oh, Sylvain, mine dear friend, thou art missed for nearly half a decade, but mine fear did not condone myself to reach out.”

Like two birds of a feather, you also similarly mask your sentimentality.

Funny how you can easily say you miss Sylvain, but not Dimitri.

Sylvain smiled. Genuinely, this time.

“Good.”

The resolution was surprisingly fast. You were willing to bet you both anticipated a serious confrontation– a meeting that feels like a long-awaited class reunion after a war or so. But no.

The two of you are still flawed yet perceptive idiots after 4 years of not talking.

You both laughed in unison.

What were you worrying about anyway? You knew that at this point if Sylvain was angry at you for leaving, he should have grown tired of that emotion.

His primary grudge had always been the crest system, not you.

You should've had this talk earlier, he's the only one in the Blue Lions you were sure won't blame a crestless noble like you for those circumstances.

“Now move, Gautier.”

He stepped aside smugly.

…

You opened your mouth in surprised indignation.

“Why does my room look clean?”

“I had Mercedes help me clean it up the moment I took a look inside. Seriously, I can’t believe you managed to live in a complete pigsty—”

“It’s like you want to sour our reestablished friendship in under 5 minutes, Sylvie.”

“...”

“What? Too old to be called Sylvie nowadays?”

“No, keep calling me that,”

Sylvain never stopped smiling.

“Oh, and by the way? I miss you too, (N/n).”

“… There you are.”

As soon as Sylvain left the hall to your dorm, he was greeted by the sight of the crown prince lingering in front of the stairways. Unlike Sylvain, he was not leaning on anything while waiting. The prince stood straight, dignified.

Then again, Sylvain knew his royal motivations lie in jealousy— and that’s far from “dignified.”

Sylvain can tell from his stiff stance that Claude was particularly touchy-feely earlier, which was exactly why he requested Lorenz to relay the message instead rather than the house leader. His Highness must’ve seen how close you sat beside Raphael and then Claude. The Golden Deer's leader knew Dimitri was obsessed with you— he probably intended to provoke him for the upcoming Battle of Eagle and Lion. It didn't help that Dimitri had his eyes on you, always. If not him, then Dedue.

Not that Claude's scheme will work. Dimitri was satisfied just to see you smile, even when it pains him to acknowledge that it wasn’t for him or because of him.

Sylvain is an exception to that rule.

Dimitri had a cold glint in his azure eyes, but his gaze all but glared at Sylvain. He had a smidgen of control, for now. But it’s not long until what Sylvain had prophesied about the crown prince quipping a remark or two about staying away from you will occur.

“Waiting for me to explain my random decision, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I simply liked standing here but sure, Sylvain! I’d dearly love to know the rational thought behind switching houses out of the blue. It is not as if Felix and Ingrid were worried about you,” Dimitri generously gave his princely smile.

Sometimes, Sylvain forgets it was physically possible for someone so austere with himself like Dimitri to say something laced with malicious sarcasm. But Sylvain knew Dimitri stood there because he was still worried about his friend, even when he pretends to be unbothered.

Like bread and butter, Dimitri and forced positivism complement each other disastrously well. The Blue Lions often caught him murmuring things like "I'm delighted (Y/n) is making new friends" or "I hope Claude continues to treat them well" despite having a glum expression on his face, obviously bottling up his envy. Felix finds it as easy as breathing to call him out on this behavior: "Why bother stalking them when you can't handle the envy you feel when they hugged Lorenz or held hands with Marianne? ”

His Highness never answered that question. He thinks had kept his feral thoughts at bay most of the time and will continue to do so.

Still… Raphael, Claude, and then Sylvain… Dimitri can’t catch a break.

Why do all these men keep approaching you?

Will you never recognize the perpetual anguish that befall him the moment you didn't reach for his hand and took Count Gloucester's that day? Have you no sympathy for the man that promised your protection— for the boy you trained and sneaked out when you thought the king wasn't looking? Whenever he wakes up the following morning without you, do you not experience the same emptiness and loneliness that he does?

Was it because he is a "troubled prince" nowadays?

Was it because he couldn't taste anything anymore?

Why did you eat saghert and cream with Ignatz instead of him at the cafeteria?

Why did these men have to ruin the one taste he can recall?

He lies awake every night to the sound of phantom screams from fallen soldiers, friends, and family against his hand-covered ears.

But you were his solace. His “God/dess”.

And just like with the Goddess Sothis, he lacked the means to grasp your hand...

If only his cold hands could wring those men's necks as well...

“... Do you really want to know, Your Highness?”

It took Dimitri a while before he snapped out of his trance. His voice dipped low, his breathing uneasy, and his eyes lacked focus.

Sylvain looked at him with pity Dimitri wished you spared him instead.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “It shall help our friends put their minds at ease.”

“Well, well, you're sure it's not because you'll miss me?”

“Sylvain.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” Sylvain dreamily gazed up at the sky and boldly proclaimed:

“The new professor was hot.”

“Sylvain!—”

“Calm down, Your Highness! That was just a joke.”

Unlikely.

“I joined because (Y/n) is there.”

Dimitri froze.

The meaning behind those words could either be tolerable or impermissible enough to make the prince push Sylvain to the training grounds without remorse.

Sylvain’s not going to try and suddenly woo you now, will he?

You did grow more gorgeous after four years after all…

But Sylvain can't have you— Dimitri might just lose it. Out of everyone on campus, he refuses to let an adamant skirt-chaser take you.

“… Elaborate.”

“Elaborate? What’s there to elaborate?” Sylvain crossed his arms behind his back, now back to his laissez-faire attitude in life. He cackled to himself, absolutely unrepentant. “Is it bad that I want to reunite with an old friend? You know, before they were your friend, they were mine. Don’t forget that we’re both older than you, Dimitri.”

Multiple considerations led to why Sylvain chose to frolic with the deers rather than squander the school year at the lion’s den. One of these includes avoiding Ingrid’s nagging— he can’t be bothered having a pegasus pecking around while he galavants with (unfortunate) women.

But most of it boiled down to reunite with the one platonic relationship he missed.

Sylvain became Dimitri’s ally through you. Had you not approached Sylvain and Dimitri during one of King Lambert’s birthday celebrations, they wouldn’t have initiated a friendship through a children’s version of a bergamot tea party away from drunken nobility. More opportunities to befriend the prince would’ve likely presented themselves through Ingrid and Felix, but that memory of tiny cups and tea-stained shoes was special because it had you.

Because you were smart and kind enough to drag Sylvain out of his older brother’s schemes of public humiliation under the guise of being “invited” to an audience with royalty.

You were more of a sibling than Miklan ever was.

“By two years,” Dimitri stressed. “You’re only older than me by two years.”

“Your point? Doesn’t change the fact that compared to most students this year, we’re one of the older ones.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Age was one of Dimitri’s insecurities. It cannot be helped— if he were only older, people would’ve listened to his testimony for the people of Duscur more seriously— if he were only older, he would’ve had control over his uncle—

Dimitri’s knuckles grew white underneath his gloves.

If he were only older, then maybe you would’ve stayed by his side.

“What a lark. Are you attempting to compete on who had a better relationship with (Y/n)?”

“No, Your Highness, YOU are.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized that those pointed words he spoke aimed towards himself like a misthrown javelin.

"Let’s be honest, Your Highness. I’m saying this as a friend, but you could be a bit tone-deaf and insufferable around them,” Sylvain deadpanned. “You had some serious attachment issues and you never listen when they tell you to stop with all those creepy comments about protecting them forever.”

“Is… Is that so?”

Dimitri muttered to himself while looking at his shoes, sounding almost broken. He had doubts, but Sylvain’s words practically cemented that you’d be unwilling to spend time with him again.

“Besides, if this were a competition, you lost the moment I waited at their dorm.”

The prince’s head snapped back up like a confused puppy.

“Why is that?”

What a horrible thing to ask.

“Because (Y/n) just told me that they missed me,” Sylvain smirked.

“And if you were there, you could’ve heard them call me Sylvie too, just like the good old days.”

Since that talk with Sylvain, Dimitri wanted to make you as lonely as him.

Oh, how he badly wanted to whisk you away from that house– oh just how much he wished he could force you to wear his cape– to wear the color of the lions.

But none of that matters now.

You look prettier when doused in splattered red.

The soil sipped the blood that drained from Ignatz's head. It reminded you of the time you asked the painter if he could use blood as a dye. If he were to watch this scene, he would've waxed poetic about how he will be simply returning his life to the earth, but the beauty of death is lost on you. The gravity of war weighed far more than the theatrics of what-he-would've-spoken.

It’s been five years since the war started.

You had lost your voice two years ago the moment Dimitri kidnapped you on your expedition to Garreg Mach— you’ve mistaken him for a bandit and in a blind rage, he dealt a massive blow to your neck. Dimitri didn’t mind that you had lost your ability to speak he seemed to relish that you’re similarly deformed. He romanticized both your disabilities often. A “God/dess” who couldn’t speak and a “boar” who couldn’t quite see. What a royal pair indeed…

You can’t say your prayers now, but you hoped thinking about praying for Ignatz was enough…

Ignatz should've turned 22 this year. Based on the way he last behaved, he didn't seem prepared for this war and had been misplaced by Professor Byleth.

You’ll never be able to eat saghert and cream with him again.

You can't remember what tactic you used in this battle. Was it Felix who was assigned to stick ten feet away from you who had slain Ignatz? Or was it Ingrid who rode her pegasus to stab the sniper in a suicidal fashion?

This entire battle is a blur. You can no longer stand straight and aim your sword reluctantly toward anyone.

Why can't everything go back to how it was before? Why can't you just fish at the Great Bridge of Myrddin with Uncle Erwin again?

You wobbled down the grass as a wyvern obstructed your view with its proud albino scales cruising the sky. Claude sits atop, his face stony through a nearly unrecognizable expression of placid anger. His emerald eyes inevitably met yours.

You didn't stand with your sword supporting you, and he didn't draw his bow either. Instead, before leaving to find the bright red target everyone called an "Emperor", Claude mouthed words that only you two could understand. You uttered nothing in response. Even if Claude were to succeed, his scheme would be futile.

Sylvain can’t save you from Dimitri.

Like a fairytale, it begins and ends with the crown prince. It always had.

But if Dimitri was the protagonist of this story, then pray tell, what does that make you?

A damsel in distress?

The king's court jester?

All you ever wanted was for House (L/n) to survive, to preserve your family name and dwindling territory against House Charon. You desired the opportunity to emulate your father. A fearless front-liner and a skilled tactician.

However, you have not taken any real action to end this war. You moved like a weak infantry, unable to maintain balance on one leg or call out for upcoming danger.

You just can’t run away from the lions anymore.

"Get up."

You couldn't move, mortified.

His Highness is back.

"I said GET UP!!!"

His iron-like hands yanked your hair up, and you felt some of it weeded out by his sheer brute force. You wept immediately but held back tears. Despite your commitment to keeping your composure, he had torn away what little hold you had left on what you call "stability." Your knees shook as his tall figure began to drag you away. Each step felt more jagged than the last. Your heart beat erratically as you worried about toppling down– and when you inevitably did, he was there to pick you up.

For Dimitri, this situation was advantageous. Most Golden Deers are here, which meant he had opportunities to route them all. He had already stabbed Ignatz, incessantly. Each draw of his lance— each crack of the artist’s glasses and bones— rejuvenated whatever youth war had stolen from him. The future king of lions couldn’t stop grinning maniacally as his eyes lay upon a deer’s corpse. It was as if his sense of taste was coming back. All of his soldiers and classmates were too terrified to stop his senseless slaughter. If Gustave did not scold him about the oncoming army, he would’ve continued damaging the corpse senselessly.

But it’s only a matter of time until he shoots for the leader of the herd as well.

He still hasn’t forgiven him for using his beloved against him back at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge. Once they’re out of the picture, then it’s only Edelgard left who he had to worry about— but until then, he’ll have to take the deers’ lives for stealing his beloved away.

Shame that Lorenz had yet to be found.

"Tch. Fool."

He cradled you like a bride but gripped your jaw like a hostage. Dimitri's current appearance is much too different from what he used to be. Sweat and blood had greased up his unruly hair, and the blue cloak that was slung over his shoulders was much dirtier.

"I command you to eat."

It was almost sweet. Almost kind when his voice softened for just a millisecond. Almost touching how his one eye gazed upon your sunken features with disdain.

But your appreciation for it all vanished the moment he robbed something from Ignatz's corpse.

"Eat."

He shoved onto you Ignatz's last bloody loaf of bread. It was hard, yet soaked.

Your throat couldn't express how terrified you were upon holding it.

"Gone deaf as well, have we?"

He pushed the bread closer to your chest, effectively crushing it against you. Dimitri breathed against your ear.

"I SAID: EAT.”

Your tears and Ignatz's blood salted your food.

The bread tasted just like the ones Raphael's family had in their inn.

Ignatz… He probably got this from Raphael… Which means he's in Gronder as well…

You sobbed as you took a feeble bite.

Please… Please be safe, Raphael.

Dimitri saw your struggle. He saw your continued concern for those who were after his life and yours. Why do you spare sympathy for the bodies that got in the way between you and him? They did not warrant those tears. The weak must fall— even he too will join them someday.

And so, Dimitri closed his eye.

You’ve gone fragile in his arms, and that was not spoken in a romantic sense. He had fractured your right leg enough to make you use your sword as a cane, yet he insists on dragging you in combat. Time and time again, he forces you to witness what he is capable of and more till you’re unable to write complaints.

Dimitri wanted to reassure you that you’re on the right side of history.

That you can cut a path beside him— you just weren’t trying hard enough before.

And it was a challenge the prince can’t easily scale. You never showed your appreciation for longer than a minute. When he learned how to dance begrudgingly with El after she had poisoned him with thoughts that he could use her teachings someday to dance with you— you dared to ask Sylvain out during the White Heron Cup. When he tried to give you a more fancy dagger as well during El’s parting, you admired Sylvain’s coincidental parcel of theater tickets and tea leaves instead.

Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain—

It was always Sylvain.

His entire body shook from laughter. You shriveled in fear as his voice echoed throughout the battlefield.

The beast put you down underneath a tree's shade that he deemed as safe.

… and kissed your forehead.

“I can see him approaching us.”

Dimitri cooed mockingly.

“Shall I decapitate and mount that filthy rat's head on a silver plate?”

You didn’t need to hear him utter his name to know he was referring to Sylvain. It was tempting to challenge him on how he could say such a thing about someone who had once been a friend, but that inquiry wouldn't help. Dimitri cupped your face and wiped your tears away with his rough and heavy hands. You flinch so easily nowadays.

How adorable.

Five years ago, you won't move a muscle whenever he kissed your forehead good night.

Five years ago, he worried about accidentally waking you up and exposing himself for breaking into your dorm so often just to drop his unhinged love letters.

Five years ago, watching you rest allowed moments of respite.

However, it didn’t invigorate him as much as your tears did now.

“Fret not, my fellow monster, I shall fetch it for you,”

He tightened his grip on his areadbhar, scanning the right field. The lance's crest stone glowed, and there was no looking back after that.

You’re here now, and he will NEVER let you leave. He won’t have a repeat of what had occurred when Count Gloucester was present around nine years ago or so. He’ll protect you this time, and it no longer mattered to him if he were a corpse or a monster in your eyes. It mattered not that he no longer slept. He intends to keep you alive and by his side, just like what he had promised in his childhood.

You can't even begin to imagine how much being away from you ruined him.

He had reached the point where he will kill everyone that tried to touch you, and he won’t have someone else do it, too.

Was this love or obsession? Likely both, if you were to ask Lady Rhea.

But what does Rhea know about Dimitri’s mental state anyways? She’s been missing for years now, she might as well be dead to you.

Without thinking, you grabbed his cloak. He patted your head but his eyes were locked on the cavalry unit from afar, and the dark and sinister smirk on his face solidified your fears.

Sylvain approached faster, and you did your best not to cry.

If he dares to fight Dimitri in the state he is now, then he might as well be a dead man walking too.

You wished you didn’t have to join the Golden Deer house— you wished Sylvain didn’t follow suit— and you wish you didn’t leave Sylvain behind. You did not doubt that if it hadn’t been for you, Dimitri would have concentrated only on Edelgard and joined forces with Claude to eliminate her. It would have given this historical period a more coordinated scheme. History won’t have to remember you as the catalyst that made things worse.

"(N/n)!"

You heard Sylvain yell from behind Dimitri, which only made your heart ache more.

It's been years since you last heard his voice again.

Dimitri took your warm hands and brushed his cheek against it, no matter how obvious it was that your eyes yearned for someone else’s touch.

He looked at you with such a soft gaze that you nearly forgot the monster he had become.

“Once we hang his head on our bedroom wall, you have no right to complain about missing “Sylvie” ever again, my beloved.”