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brayneworms · 7 months

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two for the show | mammon

kinktober day six. collar + leash.

word count. 3k

content. MINORS/AGELESS DNI, smut, collaring and leashing, light petplay, mammon is called 'pet' and 'good boy', kissing, praise kink, brief crying, anal fingering, sub!mammon + dom!reader, gender neutral reader, safe sane and consensual.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

"This is humiliatin'."

You don't necessarily disagree—it sure is humiliating, just not for you, so you can't quite bring yourself to care as much as you probably should. Still, you're feeling disagreeable tonight. Maybe it's the weeks' worth of frustration eating away at you, or the stress of not having gotten enough sleep over the last three days, or maybe you're just sick to death of Mammon's whining, so you don't rise to meet him halfway.

Just this once.

You level him with a pointed look. "Humiliating would be making you walk around like this. We're just in your room."

A red blush melts over the tanned skin of his cheeks, and oh, isn't that interesting?

Mammon kneels on the floor, wearing a disgruntled expression and a collar. Attached to the collar is a leash, which is casually looped around your closed fist. They're both made of baby-pink leather, sitting lurid and pretty against his tawny skin. It's unfortunate how good he looks with them, actually, the way the juts and veins of his throat disappear behind the thick band. A dainty silver heart adorns the front, practically begging for you to slip your fingers under and tug.

"Stupid Asmo," Mammon growls. "Stupid bet, stupid Demonus—"

"Stupid you?" you quip, then immediately retract it when you see the glower on his face. "I'm just saying, it's not like Asmo tricked you into agreeing. You're the one who had to make it a bet."

"'Cause I thought I'd get money," he whines. "Sweet, sweet money! Now this... that weirdo and his perverted mind."

You hum as though giving this some thought. "And me? What about my perverted mind?"

Mammon chokes on his own spit. "Wha... um... y-you—"

"Better yet," you say thoughtfully. "What about yours?"

"Mine?" Mammon echoes, ostensibly outraged. Two dark spots of colour burn bright on the apples of his cheeks. "Now I know you're crazy. What are ya—"

You tighten your fist 'till the leather creaks, and you tug. Hard.

Mammon's whole body jerks forwards towards the bed, and at the same time and airy groan spills forth from his lips. He braces his body against the edge of the mattress, large hands flying forward to grip the wooden frame, and then he looks up at you. His eyes are wide and round as the Grimm he covets so much, his cheeks perfectly scarlet above his open wet mouth.

"Wh—what are you playin' at?" he croaks. "Stupid human..."

"Y'know, you call me that a lot," you tell him conversationally, and scoot to the edge of the bed. Mammon audibly swallows as you kick your legs off the side, one on each side of his body, pushing into his thighs. His spine straightens ever-so-slowly, pushing his chin up to meet your eyes. "It's just—sorry. If I'm such a stupid human, how'd you end up here?"

"Wha—" Mammon licks his lips nervously. "What do ya—"

"You know. On your knees in front of me." Your hand loops through more of the leash, shortening the distance between your fist and the collar. "It's just—you know. If you're such a big, bad demon and all, and I'm just a stupid human... it shouldn't even be possible, right?"

"C'mon," he says weakly. "Ya know I didn't... 's not like that..."

"Oh, no?" Your brows knit together in such a cruel parody of concern that Mammon feels his stomach lurch. He absolutely should not be enjoying this as much as he is. But everytime you talk down to him like he's actually beneath you, he can feel a sort of film slipping over his brain. "You wanna know what I think?"

Mammon gets the vague sense that his question is rhetorical. He nods anyway, quick, instinctive. He can see all the shadows in your mouth when you smile.

"I think the reason you're here right now," you murmur. "Is that you like it. You like being under my control. You like when I tell you what to do. And you like kneeling on the ground for me, waiting for me to decide when you're worthy of being acknowledged. Isn't that right?"

Yes. "No!" he blurts out, so hot that he's starting to sweat. You look so sexy, all mean and sadistic leering down at him. Those piercing eyes, that little half-smile, like you can see right through him. Mammon shudders almost imperceptibly. He feels like a bird caught in a cage, and he likes it, and he hates that he likes it.

You consider this. "Oh. Okay. Well, then good news. I'm officially ending your punishment early."

Mammon looks at you blankly. "H-huh?"

"Yep! You can unfasten the collar at the back. Just be careful not to run into Asmo so he doesn't know you skimped out on your loss," you wink, and throw yourself back onto the bed, turning your attention fully to your DDD.

Mammon stays right where he is, dumbfounded. "Th—that's it?!"

He knows he's boned when you give him a sly look out of the corner of your eye. "I'm sorry," you say all innocently, and Mammon nearly curses. "Was there something else you wanted?"

Oh. You're fuckin' evil.

It's so, so hot.

He makes an unintelligible mumble.

You cup your hand to your ear. "Hm? Sorry, did you say something?"

Evil. Evil. Evil. "Pick the stupid leash back up, then."

Your sweet smile is all cavities and no sugar. "What's the magic word?"

Goddammit. "P... please?"

"Good boy!" You clap your hands together in ostensible delight, and Mammon shivers form the roots of his hair to the pits of his stomach. The way you sort of... coo at him. It should be disgusting, it should revolt him. Instead he can feel himself stiffening in his jeans. You lean over and kiss him on the head, pick the leash back up and wind it around your fingers. "That wasn't so hard, huh?"

"Human," Mammon whines, eyes screwed shut against this all-encompassing humiliation. "Please..."

"Come up here," you mutter fondly. Mammon scrambles so quickly that he trips over his own shoelaces and rises, blushing, but there's hardly time to be any more mortified than he already is before you're pushing him backwards onto his bed and climbing on top of him. His brain abruptly short-circuits; fuck, okay, okay—

"Breaths, Mams," you remind him gently, toying with his earlobe. Mammon sputters, turning away from your burning stare.

"Breathin' just fine," he mumbles, like you're not on top of him, silhouetted by his slick colour-changing lightbulbs like some freaky kaleidoscopic angel. Blue to red to green to purple, and you're backlit like a stageplay. A fuckin' violent one where everyone dies.

"You look so pretty," you croon, and Mammon's heart drops to his stomach. The slow, silk-soft tone of your voice is sending all his blood rushing to the wrong place. The right place? He can't decide. He hates how pliant you make him feel, but the truth is he's barely scrounging up the energy to put up much of a fight at all. You're gonna get sick twisted ideas about his psyche at this rate.

You might start to think he actually likes being bossed around by some naive little human.

As if.

"Come off it," he says weakly, fighting the urge to hide his face.

"Nah, it's comfy," you reply without a beat, and Mammo groans. He's definitely at least half-hard now, and with his shitty luck you can probably feel him pressing up against your thigh. "Want me to help you out with that?"

Mammon shoots you a surprised, suspicious look; it's not the first time he's suspected you can read his mind. He tucks his chin against his chest and nods.

You roll your pretty mean mean mean eyes. "Come on, Mams, meet me halfway here." A finger under his chin, guiding him back to look at you, and Mammon can't breathe. He's suffocating under you, but in a sort of nice way, a way that makes him feel a bit less like himself, also in a sort of nice way. He doesn't know. It's confusing. You do fucked up things to head. "Good boys use their words."

His throat sticks. For a moment he imagines he'll tell you to piss right off, you uppity human, he's the Mammon, okay, so he doesn't need you clambering all over him and telling him what's what, right, so you can very well just—

"Pleaaaase touch me, yer bein' so mean," he whines, lower lip wobbling. "I'll be good, okay, I'll be real good so just s-stop teasin' me already and just—"

"Okay, okay," you giggle softly. "Don't strain yourself. You sound so pretty begging for me, Mammon." Your hands on him, finally, gliding up under his shirt and running over the warm skin there. Every callus and ridge on your skin catches on a ribcage and he has to bite back a desperate groan each time. You waste no time pulling his shirt up and off, though you have to do some careful maneuvering to get it over the leash which leaves you both laughing weakly.

You press kisses to his collarbones, his neck and chest, and it's nice, it's real nice and he has a fleeting thought that he could probably do this forever and it would be cool, like, he wouldn't ever even have to eat again or nothin' if it meant this was his morning noon and night. But every brush of your lips against his sensitive skin is making his cock twitch in his jeans, and he's so fuckin' hard now that it hurts. He makes a whimpery, pathetic kind of noise when you press a carefully orchestrated kiss to the skin under the collar.

"Don't worry," you hum, lips and then teeth skating over the skin of his naval. Mammon tosses his head back against the comforter with a moan. "I'll take care of you. My favourite pet. Promise."

Pet. The word ricochetes through his body like a bullet, setting every nerve it hits alight.

Your hands on his belt buckle makes a small, panicked noise escape from somewhere in his throat, and whilst your hands occupy themselves you lunge forward to kiss him. Mammon groans, melting back into the covers as you kiss him stupid, his hands flying up to cup the back of your neck, the side of your face. The hot flash of your tongue in his mouth distracts him enough so that he barely feels the flash as his jeans are yanked down. It's only when your pinky finger slips under the waistband of his boxers that he drags himself back from the kiss with a shaky gasp. Blown eyes follow the taut line of your arm to where it rests on his pubic bone.

In your eyes is taunting, but there's also a question. "Still okay?"

Mammon feels the strange urge to cry. Damn you, bein' all sweet. The way you can turn it around on him makes him feel so lost sometimes. He likes it when you get a little mean, sure, loves the darkness that blows your eyes and the mean steely smirk that makes your face look, just, so much sexier—but Mammon loves you. And he loves you 'cause you're patient with him, 'cause you're kind. And 'cause you love him too.

He hides his face in his elbow and says "If you don't touch me in the next thirty goddamn seconds I'm gonna lose my fuckin' mind."

A giggle, and the tension breaks. "Alright, alright, you big baby." He gasps, spine arching off the bed when you pin his erection to his stomach. "Just lie back like a good little pet and trust me, 'kay?"

You peel off his soaked boxers. Mammon waits, tense, for your fingers around his cock, or your mouth or something but when nothing happens for a good few seconds he cracks open an eye tentatively. You're leaning away from him, facing the bedside table. His stomach twists once he realises what you're looking for.

Ohhhhhkay, okayokayokay—

You turn back with a bottle of lube that's—actually, it's going dry at an alarming rate. Mammon can't quite bring himself to feel embarrassed about it, especially as he watches you deftly uncap it and coat two of your fingers.

"What's—" Mammon swallows hard. "What's the, uhh... what's the plan?"

"You're gonna cum on my fingers," you say matter-of-factly, tossing the lube aside. He goes to reach for it, to stow it away, but you tap his hand away good-naturedly. "Don't. Might need more later."

That promise slips low and heady into his gut, and he swallows and relaxes against the comforter. You grip one of his taut thighs in your hand and prop his leg up, then slip your hand between his legs. He makes a high, shivery noise as your fingers brush teasingly over his dick, collecting the pre already leaking enthusiastically from the tip, but you keep going, lower, lower—

Mammon grunts as he feels your fingertip circle his hole.

"Relax, baby," you murmur, pressing feathery kisses to the knee of his crooked leg. "Doin' sooo good for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," he whimpers. "Mhm, yeah."

"Yeah," you affirm, and slip the tip of your finger inside. Mammon breathes out quick and hard, but it doesn't hurt—not at all, really. There's a familiar stretch, but no burn, no ache. "That okay?"

"Y-yeah," he mumbles, wiggles his hips experimentally. "I can—you can put more."

Achingly slowly, between breaths, kisses, and more feather-light touches to his cock that have pleasure sparking bone-deep, you ease your finger in to the knuckle.

"Doesn't hurt," Mammon pants. "You can—can ya—"

"Alright, pet, I got you," you murmur. Two fingers is a stretch but God, God fuckin' dammit, once they're in Mammon feels like he could weep, and once they twist expertly inside him and find that tough spot a few inches in he damn near does.

He arches off the bed with an exceptionally embarrassing noise. "F-fuck, oh holy shit, fuckin'—do that again—"

"Don't forget your manners." You give your fingers a warning twist that has him whimpering. "I don't wanna have to train you all over again, baby."

"S—fuck, sorry," he babbles damn near incoherently. "Just please can you touch me there again, okay, please 'cause it feels so fuckin' good, you feel so fuckin' good, baby, angel, please."

Your fingers slip in and out, push against that spot inside him that makes him feel like he's gonna burst out of his own skin, and Mammon moans, and your fingers slip out for a moment and before he can do so much as growl in frustration you're drooling more lube over them and you go back in with a third.

He feels so fuckin' full and so weirdly brainless, like you've pushed all the common sense out his head to make way for your stupid good fingers. As though you've read his mind, they start jackhammering his prostate like you've found a goddamn doorbell, and his moans get pitchier and wispier until he's almost wheezing.

"Babe," he almost sobs, "Oh, fuck, yes—right there, right there, don't stop pleasepleaseplease don't stop I feel so—"sob—"so fuckin' good, I—"

"Shhh, it's okay," you soothe, and finally your other hand comes up to wrap around his cock and Mammon keens. Your hand is a loose fist, your thumb swiping at the head in a move that makes his whole buddy judder and he arches into the touch and away, it's so much, it's too much—

"'M gonna cum," he gasps out brokenly, hips bucking up into you, spine so bent it nearly aches. "Fuck, sorry—fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Good boy," you whisper. "If I can just—"

Your hand leaves his cock, and Mammon opens his mouth to ask what you're doing when you seize a handful of the leash Mammon had almost forgotten was there, and you tug so hard that the leather constricts around his throat and and his head snaps up to meet the crush of your lips.

Mammon cums so hard that he sees stars.

He always thought that was some sorta exaggeration, but look here, ladies and gentlemen, come observe the great Mammon flat on his back with his eyes rolled up into his head, panting like he'd run a goddamn marathon with your fingers still buried inside him. Tears spill over his lashline as his orgasm rips through him, and he cums with a strangled "Fu-uck, love you, I fuckin'—fffuckin' love you, fuck—"

When he can breathe again, approximately a minute later as you carefully ease your fingers out of him, you kiss his lips tenderly and tell him, "I love you too, Mams. Just in case it wasn't clear."

"Mmmn," he grumbles. He feels the bed dip and your warmth leave him and his stomach drops, goes cold. He fists a hand in the fabric of your shirt. "Wh—where d'ya think you're going?"

It's meant to sound aggressive but it comes out more sad. He has to fight back a drowsy wince.

You pet his hair. "Just getting a wet cloth to clean you up, baby."

"Later," he grumbles, and tugs you back down. You sigh and pick up a dirty shirt from the unofficial laundry pile beside his bed and clean up his stomach and your hands before tossing it back into the basket. You make a mental note to bury it under other dirty washing so nobody catches a glimpse of it.

Once you lay back down, Mammon twists his body and jams it up against yours, his head wriggling onto your chest, arms so tight around your waist you think he's afraid you'll slip away.

You bring a hand up to his hair and play with it absently. "Want me to take the collar off, now?"

Mammon pauses. "...'S fine for now," he sniffs.

You bite back your grin as you feel him slip into sleep beside you.

#🫀.scribes #obey me x reader #obey me smut #mammon x reader #mammon smut #dom!reader #obey me x dom!reader #mammon x dom!reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #swdom x reader

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Three

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Before you read this chapter, I want to tell y'all I am perfectly aware of how messed up this is. But if the male writers of Game of Thrones can show graphic depictions of sexual assault and get away with it, why can't I show something messed up but empowering? They literally showed sexual assault as a good thing because the trauma can "empower" a woman. How about a girl finding strength in her body and pleasure? Now, let's traumatize these men back. >:}

Also, I find it a bit humorous that the reader is wearing something like this during this entire chapter. Also, I made a playlist of songs that I listened to while writing this story.

Chapter Warnings: minor x minor sexual situations, CNC, we do not follow SSC here, folks. (safe, sane, and consensual.)

Aegon led you up a dark sandstone staircase worn from thousands of years of use, turning his head back periodically with a wide grin. You knew he was leading you to the Streets of Silk, where the high-end brothels were, not the type Ma ran. It was something interesting you found with Aegon, how he chose to forgo the upscaled silken sheets with finely dressed whores that most of the High Born frequented. But he, the first-born son of King Viserys Targaryen, First of Men, King of the Andals, and Protector of the Realms, choose to sink his royal cock into the cunts of lice-ridden women. You did not mind Aegon choosing something as malapropos as that, for if his tastes were better, you would have never met him.

"Come, little one, we are nearly there," he encouraged, squeezing your hand briefly and kissing it. The simple act made your cheeks hot, a hue of red blooming from your nose to your ears as your short legs struggled to stay in step.

You felt giddy with a man's affection, a feeling you had not experienced in many years. Ma had never let you grow close to a person near your age, always promptly snatching you away and telling your acquaintances to "get lost" or deal with the consequences. No child had ever dared to become friends after that. You had only Madam and the Ladies of the House until the unsightly curly, white-haired prince made his appearance.

Aegon led you down sharp turns and uneven ground, squeezing your fist every moment he felt you got too far behind. Despite the fast walking, his legs were shaking, his knees nearly buckling under him when his shoe got caught on a loose rock. You chuckled when you helped him up. His excitement was contagious. You could not help but feel the same, your cloaks billowing out behind you.

"Where are we going, my Prince?" You asked sweetly, biting your lip in anticipation. Aegon noticed you didn't use the title as an insult this time but as a... flirtation. Were you flirting with him, he wondered.

"Have patience, little one; we are only fifty paces away," he chortled, stopping for a moment and patting your hand in reassurance.

"I find it peculiar that you know the precise distance," you jested.

Jested? Jested! Aegon nearly died from happiness at the realization. Someone, who had no incentive to be kind to him, was treating him like a friend. Like he was not the royal cunt drunk fuck-up everyone claimed he was. You were so beautiful, kind, and innocent. And best of all, you were his. None of the other Targaryen knew of your existence, other than Daemon. Perhaps if his family had known about you, bastard or not, Aegon could have been betrothed to you and not that half-wit bug-obsessed sister he now called wife.

Aegon supposed things did happen for a purpose, though. If you had been raised as part of your actual family, you would most likely feel the same as all of them about him. You were too perfect, sent from the Gods, plucked from the very clouds he prayed to and placed into his wanting, needing lap. An angel finally leading him out of the purgatory he called life.

"We're here," he stated in finality, gesturing for you to look at the building.

It was much larger than Ma's. Whereas hers was built from solid oak wood and a straw-thatched roof, this was constructed from a smooth stone. Burnt steel braziers with yellow-orange flames lit the dark entrance, dancing off of Aegon's pale, veiny hand as he knocked. A woman with deep midnight hair cascading down her exposed tanned skin opened the door, hugging the frame as her golden dress did to her curves. You could see Aegon's purple eyes blown with lust as he drank her in, unabashedly wetting his lips.

She smiled, perfectly white teeth showing through her painted lips as she did the same to Aegon. More likely sizing up the potential profit in her head rather than his appearance. Then she looked at you, her smile dropping and full black eyebrows furrowing. You didn't know whether she was displeased at another woman being here, somehow seeing you as competition, or because you seemed so young. Being sized up as if you were any predator unnerved you. You were just a daughter of a whore, raised on moldy bread and stolen apples, not someone to be seen as a rival. You hid behind Aegon, intimidated by the beautiful woman's stare, and tightened your grip on his hand.

He chuckled, more at the fact you were so intimidated by an older woman's disapproving glance you sought him for protection as if he wasn't the very thing that brought you into this situation.

"Do not worry, sweet thing; Mila will not hurt you. The bitch's bark is worse than her bite." You were surprised by his brazen disrespect for the woman who might service him tonight, but she didn't seem fazed.

"This is not the first time you have brought another with you here, your grace, but never one so young, so..." Mila sucked her teeth in disapproval, raking her eyes over what she could see, "so inexperienced." Her insults upset you, and you moved from behind Aegon.

"Do not take age as a lack of experience, woman. I grew up with the sounds of women moaning and men begging to cum. It was my lullaby."

You brushed past her, deliberately bumping your shoulder into hers as you entered the brothel. You didn't need to look at her face to know you got a reaction from her—Aegon's snickering as he followed in after you were assurance enough. He knew that small demeanor could not last long, not in his hatchling.

Music filled the brothel, and the soft murmurs of people chatting amongst themselves melted into the songs, creating a gentle hum in the air. All you could see was gold. Gold walls, chairs, lounge seats, gold pitchers, and chalices of Arbor Red and green liquid as people flited along the main room. Shiny curtain dividers of the same palette divided private rooms as you entered further, the moans and pants becoming louder. Three more women came up, all dressed in varying shades of cream, tan, and gold, taking your cloaks and giving you and Aegon goblets.

It was nice. You could understand the appeal of a man such as Aegon devoting their time to a place like this. They treated you like royalty even when you were not. You were not used to being the one dotted on, usually watching from afar before Madam snatched you away and locked you in your room.

"My Prince," the lithe blonde one said, eyes a stormy grey as she bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you again. It has been so long." She took his hand, leading him to an empty bench as the second girl ushered you close behind. "And I see you have brought a guest with you." Her voice was tight as she addressed you, pursing her lips in an almost pity-like emotion.

Aegon released a breathy laugh, moving his fingers to lace with yours, smiling. "Yes, she is my companion for the evening. I expect her to receive the same treatments you would give me, as she is an extension of my crown tonight."

The girls shared a look, expressions, and wordless conversations thrown at each other before they decided to nod and smile.

"Of course. Whatever our Prince desires shall be given," the brunette nodded. "What shall we get you started tonight, your grace? Wine, mead?" She asked.

Aegon grinned to himself, flipping through all the options of alcohol he could choose for his hatchling, then let out a puff of air with his decision. "The Green Fairy, I would like to start with that, wench."

This time, you could understand the expressions on the ladies' faces. They looked shocked, worried, and scared, even for you, at his drink of choice. They both nodded, not protesting his request, as they got the drink. When they returned, they were holding a different set of glasses. They were crystal, intricate designs that blew into the stem as they set the supplies down. The pitcher was also transparent, and you could see a deep emerald liquid. It was unfamiliar to you, having grown up with mainly bottomless red and purple drinks.

"What is The Green Fairy," you questioned Aegon, leaning closer to him so the girls couldn't hear.

"That is the common name for it, little one. It is called Absinthe, and it is absolutely delightful," he assured you. You hummed, shifting your body centimeters away from him, still nervous.

You continued to watch as the whores sorted the supplies. It was entrancing, a ritualistic setup for something as simple as a drink, gathering ornate spoons with holes in them and pouring the green contents into the cup. It seemed like something a High-Born would drink, so you were not surprised that Aegon chose it. The blonde gathered another pitcher, this one not from the same set, and asked Aegon how he would like it.

"You know how I like it, Carmilla," he retorted, and she gave a slight nod, getting a small wooden stick and lighting the tip on it with a candle flame.

She brought the stick to the Absinthe, creating a burst of fire before it disappeared as Aegon put his palm over it. You stared in awe, your mouth agape as he brought the glass to his nose, removing his hand and inhaling the vapors with a moan before swinging it back. He slammed the empty cup on the wooden table, grinning like a madman at the burn in his throat. You could tell he loved the feeling, a blush creeping up his neck to his ears from the heat.

"And how would the lady like it?" Carmilla asked, gesturing to you.

"I-" you began to stutter, but Aegon came to your rescue.

"The classic way. We would not want to scare my sweetling off from the drink, now, would we? She is not as well versed in The Fairy as I am." He playfully nudged your shoulder, making you giggle. You were sure your skin matched Aegon's, heat covering your entire face and ears with embarrassment. After you just went and said something to Mila, he said something like that.

The brunette grabbed the fancy silver spoon, placing a sugar cube as she poured the Absinthe over it, the liquid running through the holes and into the glass. She repeated the same process as she did with Aegon, grabbing a wood stick but lighting the sugar cube instead of the drink. You watched it carmelize, burning the alcohol off for a few seconds as she slowly poured water over it, careful not to go too fast. It was so beautiful, so mesmerizing, watching the browned sugar slowly melt into the cup. Drip, drip, dripping down until it was dissolved.

Aegon paid no mind to the show before him, staring intently at your whole face. Watching your mouth, brows, and nose scrunch up as your eyes danced across the scene, taking in the unfamiliar experience.

Once all the sugar was gone, you looked at Aegon expectantly, waiting for him to tell you what to do. The realization that you were looking to him-- him to guide you, made his cock harden.

Oh, his little dragon. The things he could show you.

"Drink it, little one," he urged, eyeing you with a jerk of his head. You gave him a half-hearted grin, unsure about the drink. You've, of course, had alcohol before. Most of the time, water was unsafe to drink unless collected from wells or the skies. You had it for almost every meal. Still so young, you did not like the taste but knew the necessity of it. You brought it to your nose, taking a whiff and recoiling your head in disgust, grimacing.

Aegon studied your face, watching your thoughts show themselves. It smelled like madness, reckless abandonment traveling inside your nostrils and bursting into your head, yet it was cool, calming, like the steel of a blade unsheathing from its scabbard. It is... an extraordinary thing.

Adorable.

He repeated the same motion, wordlessly telling you to try it anyways. Well, if Aegon could drink it without so much as a reaction, you could, too... probably.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself as you flung the glass into your mouth, gripping the stem as the alcohol burned your tongue and throat. At first, it wasn't bad, a savory flavor hitting your taste buds, like the herbs a tavern would smell of, but then, everything else came crashing, nearly making you spit out the liquid. Your body heated in embarrassment, tucking your chin to your chest as you tried to hide. Everyone at the table laughed, the two women who were less than enthused about your presence shrieking, gaining the attention of the other patrons in the main room.

Aegon refused to let you wallow in shame as he grabbed your wrist, yanking you up as he cheered. "She's done it," he yelled, looking at the several dozen pairs of eyes trained on you. "Well done, little one!"

The others couldn't help but gather in the celebration, walking closer to the group of you and congratulating you on whatever. Most were too drunk to care, just happy to be around the excitement. You could not help but laugh along, enjoying the attention, something you never got with Madam.

"Another," Aegon shouted as the women repeated the same ritual.

What felt like moments later, you found yourself lying between Aegon's legs on a private bed, your back to his chest, his fingers playing with your frizzy hair and tracing up and down your arm. The room was hazy, but you didn't care. You were too far down in the feeling of his touch. You sighed into him, your glass replaced by some Dornish wine instead of The Green Fairy. You could not feel the burn anymore, tipping back the red drink, some slipping past your lips and down your throat. Your motor skills were sluggish, but your senses were heightened, hearing, feeling every sound and touch, nerves of fire through your body.

Serval women lay next to you, sleepy from the festivities or drunk like you were. Aegon had the tolerance of ten men. You found out after ignorantly challenging him to a duel of cups, which of course, you lost, much to your chagrin.

You hummed softly as Aegon slid his fingertips up your bicep to the base of your throat, wrapping them like a necklace. It tickled that area of your body unfamiliar with touch as you leaned your head back on his shoulder. The whites of his eyes were nearly bloodshot, staring down at your face with blown pupils. You had not realized how attractive he was until now, the yellow light from the torches shining behind him like a halo. He looked ever the prince. You lifted your arm sluggishly, trying to reach for the crown of light but stroking your fingers through his short curly hair instead. It was an acceptable replacement, you decided, closing your eyes to feel the strands between your digits.

Aegon leaned his head closer, resting his forehead on your furthest cheek, his nose poking into the other. You were content with the connection, nearly falling asleep until you felt his hand slide up your neck, gripping your jaw to be level with his. Your lips parted, struggling to breathe through your nose at this angle. His eyes flickered at the movement, then back to yours as you blinked slowly.

You realized too late that he was kissing you, his wet mouth pressed against yours, his tongue feeling it. It felt so lovely, a pleasant tingle traveling to your stomach as you slid your hand further into his hair. Aegon could feel the hot air leaving your nose faster, tightening his grip on your jaw. You whimpered into his mouth, the slight pinching uncomfortable but not unwelcomed.

Everything felt... heavenly. Aegon's touch was a gift from the Gods, one you accepted with open arms as he trailed his free hand down the front of your dress, pressing into the small space the fabric dipped between your legs. A jolt of ecstasy went through your body, causing you to part from him as you hiccuped a moan. He repeated the motion, pressing what felt like a button harder, making your eyes roll back into your head.

You knew there were ways to pleasure a woman other than penetration but did not understand the anatomy of it; perhaps this was what they were talking about?

Aegon continued pressing, now rubbing in tight circles as your humid breath covered the vellus hairs on his face, moving your hips to seek more friction. You were raised in a brothel. You knew about sex, practically an expert by the time you were ten and one, but the logistics were lost. As a child, you had a curious mind like any other, sneaking peaks through keyholes at the working girls at Madam's before she would grab you by your ear and haul you to your room. It was natural how your body reacted to Aegon, and you did not mind it.

"Aegon," you breathed against his skin, your eyes half-lidded as he kissed your neck. He hummed, nipping at the skin as you squeaked.

"You sound heavenly," he whispered, rubbing himself against your back.

"It feels..." You trailed off, losing yourself in the pleasure.

"Tell me, little one, tell me how you feel." Your back arched as a loud moan filled the small room, causing some guests to stir.

"It feels so... so good," you cried, rutting your core onto his fingers. He chuckled into your shoulder, nipping your collarbone as his free hand laced with yours.

A woman opened her eyes, disturbed by your loud noises, but she didn't seem to care, rolling onto her other side and going to sleep. You bit your lip, embarrassed that something so intimate, which was supposed to be done in the privacy of only two people, was in the middle of an audience.

"Do not silence yourself, my little dragon. Let them hear you roar."

You were lost, lost in the sea of alcohol and ecstasy Aegon had rowed you out too. The brackish waters pulled you under, and you struggled to fight them, running out of the will to do so. A tear leaked from the corner of your eye, running down your temple and into your hairline. He kissed it away, licking his lips and groaning at the salty taste.

Gods, he wanted to come so badly. He wanted to sink into your virgin cunt, tearing your maidenhead as your blood coated him, spilling his seed inside you. But despite what his family said about him-- despite what everyone said about him, he could be a good man—a good man for you.

"A-Aegon, it is happening." You knew what was coming, but not the name for it, not what this little death was called. "It-it's happening."

"Shh, shh," he brushed the strands of your dark hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, squeezing your hand in reassurance. "Let it happen," Aegon soothed, "let it happen."

You shrieked, allowing the waves to drag you under, consuming every fiber of your being with pure, unfiltered pleasure. Your crushed his grip, your hips moving wildly and burying your face in his neck while you cried. Having your senses heightened and stoked simultaneously was too much to handle. Aegon held you the entire time, pulling you out from under the ocean as air finally filled your lungs.

Your body shook, soft mewls escaping as the aftershocks wore off. You hated it but loved it. You wanted it again. You finally understood Aegon, why he sought out pleasure the way he did, for if it always felt like this, you would too.

"How are you, sweet thing," he asked, moving his hand between your legs and your face, cupping your cheek.

You couldn't respond, only groaning as your eyes closed. Aegon laughed, pulling your body on top of him as he laid back down on the sheets, head resting on the pillow. You felt yourself falling asleep.

"Thank you," he spoke quietly. You had never heard a man thank a woman for giving her pleasure. You turned your head, questioning his gratitude. He gently placed your head back on his chest, and you did not protest, too exhausted from everything that had happened.

Aegon's cock was in pain from the denial of your touch, silently begging for you. It had been problematic throughout the entire day, never ceasing the constant pumping as you explored the city. He had no idea how he managed to control himself for so long. Self-restraint was not his strong suit, but you changed him. You made him different. Aegon wanted to defile you when he saw your sticky fingers steal a bracelet off a noblewoman's wrist.

But you were precious, his little dragon, and you could not force a bond with a dragon no matter how much one willed it. It must be the dragon's choice.

Master List of Series

I hope y'all don't hate me for this chapter...

Thank you for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlyka, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid

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serpentinegraphite · 4 days

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So, first off, this is not an attempt to kink shame (dubcon and noncon are great!) but I do keep seeing a thing in fics (I do NOT see this irl in kink spaces nearly as often) where like. A character will interrupt the flow of the scene to check consent

And I don't mean in an "are we still green?" Or "what's your color?" kind of way, but I mean. The author has tagged the fic and indicated via prose and/or author notes that they are doing their Due Diligence to make sure this fic is Righteously Consensual from top to bottom, No Question About It

And a character will ask for full sexual consent either directly or indirectly or renegotiate the boundaries of the kinks being practiced AFTER the sex acts have already begun.

Here's the thing: horny brain isn't great at making decisions! irl in kink spaces, there's often a lot of emphasis on negotiating BEFORE the scene begins, perhaps even with a space between negotiation and the scene if it's with a new/unfamiliar partner (maybe it's a few minutes while things are set up, maybe the partners negotiate a day or more in advance! It depends!), and not changing the parameters of the scene after someone is already horny or god forbid already in subspace.

Again, these are perfectly fine rules to break in fiction, when the author is aware of it (most characters are not going to be fully familiar with safe, sane, consensual practices and the traffic light system, nor would we want them to be!) but I'm increasingly finding fics where the author DOESN'T seem aware, which takes a normal fic (in-character, with reasonable but perhaps even somewhat dubious practices, which the author isn't emphasizing or preaching about) into Red Flag Territory (a character, OOC, yanking me out of the scene to behave like a PSA about consent instead of conforming to the horny tone of the scene, and perpetuating unsafe practices anyway)

If you are writing a master manipulator or someone who wants to have a gotcha, you totally said it was okay on a character they are trying to bone (which is well in the realm of non/dubcon) that's fine! This PSA is not aimed at you. But if you are trying to write someone who Cares Strongly About Consent, then perhaps be more aware of when is an appropriate time to escalate the situation (sexually speaking) or ask for consent!

#like you don't see this shit in the sex pollen tag!#those folks know exactly what they're doing and they're having a great time #and i don't want to call anyone out specifically because like. this is a multi fandom issue #and i see it mostly in fiction space #written by people who are probably not active in their local kink community #but i did just see a really egregious and specific example which triggered this rant I've been sitting on for a WHILE #like. people who are writing heat fics also typically know! if the sub is gagging for any phallus it's not the time to ask for consent!#they're well past that point!!!#it's the fics in between that think they're doing uwu soft romance with a bit of spice #that don't know how to warn for shit and make me very concerned for their safe sex practices in the future #this is 10000% more egregious if you DO write a character who is keenly aware of SSC practices #if your character goes to kink dungeons or has opinions about the traffic light system #they probably should know not to fuck with renegotiating mid scene #this has been a psa

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h-doodles · 4 months

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BREAKING MY SILENCE!!!

sorry im late but i was spamming one bestie with some more analysis thoughts on the borb while half scrolling through my fyp bc i do curate my experience ya know. BUT YOU GUYS. EVERYONE TAKE SEVERAL STEPS BACK AND A DEEP BREATH.

@oneginn I get your point and your post and I respect that, and I personally apologize for the boundaries that were set off with regards to some of my reblogs! I do recognize romanticizing toxic behaviors is BAD and a point of extreme concern, especially in real life! HOWEVER, at the same time, like you said! exploring and liking the darker themes are a thing, and fundamentally, people expressing their thoughts about it is part of the process, especially when writing about it in fiction. I believe that as long we do recognize the proper warnings AND DO give warnings, it's perfectly sane for people to post whatever in our personal blogs. Not to mention that while fiction has the ability to influence reality, some times fiction IS just fiction, and saying this from a place of love: IT'S NOT ALWAYS THAT DEEP. Sometimes the girlies just want some unhinged absolute gratitious smut, some girlies want the most heart wrenching traumatizing angst, some people want the most rancid and unhealthy parts to see how worse they can go, and some girlies want the soft slice of life absolute peaceful fluff AND that's why fiction is great, it can contain ANYTHING! Of course, it is still important to keep a critical lens on everything we read, but it's also important to keep in mind that it's a space where people can explore their boundaries SAFELY.

@shortstrawberry GIRL. when you said that i couldn't help but agree for a hot moment, bc EVERYONE needs a chill pill. But at the same time the arguement that it's just fiction isn't gonna cut it, bc there are too many flavors of fiction for people NOT to react. Thus, my earlier statements: that Fiction is a safe place to explore one's thoughts, no matter how dark it gets, but at the same time we have the responsibility in learning to recognize that there are still certain critical thinking we MUST do in order to properly handle such things. Not everyone is comfortable in what we create, and thus warnings need be applied. But otherwise, it's free real estate!!!

ALSO ough what anyone writes OR creates doesn't reflect their mental health or mental state!!!!!!!!! please you guys. sometimes exploring the possibilities is just that. EXPLORING. it doesn't mean the creator is a monster or a freak for making it. all content is a piece of artistic rendition, and just because the message is unpalatable to your senses doesnt mean it's garbage, nor of need to be censored. If you don't like it, simply click block and go!!!!!

As for the rest of the reblogs in the respective posts. Y'ALL. you dont WANT to start the kinkshaming discourse. But i'm on the side of NO kink shaming. As long as it's safe, sane, and consensual, who are YOU to judge the people involved? ... Don't forget the roots of the queer community. Our lifestyle was just kink to the majority then, and still is perceived by many conservatives as such. LEARN.

#i might have lost all braincells needing to type this out while monitoring the replies but dear miranda you guys.#personal.txt #resident lover

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jodjuya · 6 months

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One of the best genres in fiction is the noir-core convergent evolution collection of profoundly alcoholic, utterly dysfunctional, dangerously unstable, tormented, and wildly out-of-control chain-smoking renegade super-detective geniuses named Harry who cause ludicrous amounts of property damage in their obsessive and self-destructively-reckless fixation on Solving The Case and Getting Their Man, NO 👏 MATTER 👏 WHAT 👏 IT 👏 TAKES 👏

Irrevocably anguished in equal measures by the scumbags that he couldn't put away, the innocents that he couldn't save, the systems that failed him, and the dame that broke his soul, it's been 0 days since his last internal monologue, 1 day since his last fistfight, 2 days since his last sleep, 4 days since his last shave, 8 days since his last shower, 16 days since his overdue rent was due, and 32 days since his last bender.

COUNTERBALANCE WITH SAFE/SANE/CONSENSUAL SIDEKICKS TO TASTE

Shown here:

Lieutenant double-yefreitor Harrier "Harry" Du Bois, of the video game 'Disco Elysium'.

Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, wizard and private investigator, of the 'Dresden Files' series of novels.

Inspector Harold "Dirty Harry" Francis Callahan, of the 'Dirty Harry' film series.

Norwegian police officer Harry Hole, of the eponymous novel series and film adaptation.

(I discovered this guy exists only, like, an hour ago, but I'll be damned if he doesn't fit in perfectly right alongside the rest of these Loose-Cannon Lawmen)

"Dirty Harry" came along first, so I suspect he set the mould and the other three are in homage to some degree or another... 🤔

#harry du bois #harry dresden #dirty harry #disco elysium #dresden files #harry hole #blorbo #noir

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dewedup · 10 months

Text

satanic wiles (rain ghoul!reader)

She thought the water ghoul was to be her saviour, but maybe he was just the devil in disguise.

Or the band's assistant gets into a sticky situation and Rain comes to her rescue, but not before taking advantage of her predicament.

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Rain x reader

Fandom: The Band Ghost

Words: 2,770

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Ghouls are not human, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Nameless Ghouls, Restraints, kind of?, Reader is stuck, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, no beta we die like Nihil, Dewdrop Is A Little Shit (Ghost Sweden Band), Praise Kink

Read below the cut or AO3 link

“Fucking Dewdrop,” She muttered for the third time as she tried in vain to free herself from the amp that was currently holding her hostage. If Dew didn’t spend the majority of rehearsal tossing picks at Swiss and Phantom, she wouldn’t have had to run backstage to a crowded storage room for more, because he couldn't possibly use the perfectly acceptable picks Rain had offered.

Brat.

After diving headfirst over the backup amp, she found the discarded pick bag underneath some extra cables. It was just within reach, her fingers brushing the velvet sack containing the answer to her errand. Being a newly assigned assistant to the band had many perks, like getting to hang out with the ghouls whom she had gotten to know quite well back at the Abbey, and the opportunity to travel the world with the band as they performed rituals wherever the clergy wanted. But it also meant being sent on scavenger hunts for things that should really have been placed in a more convenient location, perhaps beside the stage? Instead, she’s stuck here in a dusty storage room that everything without a home got tossed into when they arrived yesterday with the tour bus.

In hindsight, maybe she should have opted for a t-shirt and jeans to run around and perform her endless tasks, instead of the skirt and corset that called her name this morning. The corset was currently caught in a mounting mechanism attached to the 3-foot-tall amp she was precariously teetering over, her feet dangling uselessly over the edge. If she tried hard enough, she could stretch so the tips of her boots brushed the cement floor beneath her. Not nearly enough leverage to try and free herself.

She flinched at the sound of the door opening behind her, cutting through her thoughts as it swiftly swung shut. She heard the sound of a lock being thrown into place.

“Who’s there?” She raised her voice slightly to be heard from behind the equipment she leaned over. A deep chuckle hit her ears; her eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to place its owner. “I’m so glad you can find the humour in this situation. How about helping a girl out?” She tried, wiggling ineffectively.

“I came to see if I could offer you a hand, but it looks like you’ll need a bit more assistance," She smiled slightly at the playful tone in Rain’s voice. Of all the ghouls that could come to her rescue, he would be the lesser of evils. If Dew saw her now, she wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks, probably the entirety of the tour, no doubt with pictures to add to her embarrassment.

“I found the picks, but the amp wanted to get acquainted with my top,” She explained dejectedly, her feet kicking slightly to further her struggle. An involuntary shiver ran down her back as Rain’s hand ghosted along her exposed thigh, resting at the top of her leg. His touch burned her skin, igniting a fire in the pit of her stomach at the way his fingers felt against her flesh.

“Satan himself has graced me today,” Rain mumbled, growling softly as his fingers splayed across her pale skin. She swallowed hard, a damp patch forming shamelessly in her underwear at the tone of his voice. Rain sniffed the air, groaning at the scent of her arousal. Damn if this isn’t the hottest thing to happen to me, she thought as her body reacted pathetically to the ghoul behind her. She squirmed as his fingers moved under her skirt to flirt along the edge of her panties. Thank Lucifer she had the inclination to wear something with lace this morning.

“Colour?” Rain demanded abruptly. Fuck. She jolted as his fingers danced atop the thin fabric separating him from her embarrassingly wet entrance. She whined pathetically as his hand pulled away from her and he repeated his question again, the word pushing through his gritted teeth.

“Green,” She begged pathetically, trying in vain to raise her hips up, desperate for more contact. Rain wasn’t cruel, as soon as the word left her lips his hand was back, immediately pushing past the annoying barrier to run over her slit. He collected her wetness as he circled the edge of her clit. The seconds it took for him to move a finger back over her entrance were agonizing, pulling another embarrassingly needy whine from her lips. He chittered sympathetically as he pushed a single digit in, curling it once he’d gotten down to the knuckle, making her clench around it hungrily.

“So fucking good for me,” Rain praised as he started to move his finger, letting a second digit join to stretch her open further. She moaned as his hand moved with vigour, caressing her from the inside.

“Rain,” She gasped at the feel of a third finger, a pair of lips attaching themselves to her neck. His hand continued its mission to reduce her to a pile of whimpers and cries. She couldn’t recall him taking his helmet off, but the brush of stubble on her bare neck burned her skin sweetly. His scent invaded her nose, petrichor and salt, filling her head with images of what the ghoul behind her looked like behind the mask. She wondered briefly if she begged enough would he flip her over and fuck her while she drank in his features and committed them to memory, able to glimpse exactly what she could do to him, as if his rough voice wasn’t indication enough.

The sound of a zipper sent a tingle of excitement down her spine, the electricity of the feeling fraying her already high-strung body. Rain’s belt buckle clinked as it met the same fate. His pants were no longer a hindrance. She longed to get down on her knees and take him into her mouth. She wanted to see the look on his face as she used her mouth and tongue to take him apart. But the only sight greeting her eyes was the traitorous and long-forgotten velvet pick bag. Would the other ghouls come looking? Surely Dew had reached the end of his current supply of picks and was probably wondering where she had run off to, nearing the storage room only to catch her needy moans and whines as Rain undid her with his skilled fingers.

The thought of being caught was enough to send her over the edge she was already so close to, her orgasm taking her by surprise as she cried out and clenched hard. Rain cursed under his breath as he pulled his hand back, smacking her dripping center lightly. Her depraved mind imagined his fingers coated in her slick wrapping around his cock, sliding and spreading it so that he glistened with her fluid. She could almost come again at the thought of him raising his hand to his face, his tongue darting out to sneak a taste.

A sudden presence at her entrance ripped her from the images her mind had conjured. Rain teased her, rubbing his cock up and down her slit, pressing slightly into the sensitive bundle of nerves above.

“Colour?” His voice was like syrup, sliding over her ears and sweet on the tongue. She bucked her hips slightly, trying to put him exactly where she wanted, earning her a slap to the ass. “Words darling, I need to hear you say it." His mouth was back to her neck, peppering light kisses along the exposed skin, pausing at the junction of her shoulder to nip playfully. Just a phantom touch of his teeth, sharp fangs grazing the skin slightly. Fuck, she wished he would bite down with force, leaving her with a mark to memorialize this scandalous moment. Her silence wore thin on Rain’s patience, his teeth coming to bite a little more forcefully, a sweet, little cry falling from her lips.

“I could always just leave you like this,” Rain threatened softly, his hand wrapping carefully around her throat to pull her head up, creating an uncomfortable but not unwelcome position with how her upper body was still attached to the amp. “Dripping and needy, begging for my cock. I wonder who’d find you next, if they’d fuck you as good as I would." He paused his rambling as she squirmed under him, a pool of warmth flooding from her at the thought of another ghoul taking advantage of her current circumstances. His hips jerked slightly, surprised at the scent of her fresh arousal. “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He hissed. Another pass over her slit had her seeing stars.

“Green,” The plea barely left her lips before he pushed in completely, bottoming out inside of her.

“Good girl,” The praise fell from Rain’s lips with a groan. He brought his face to her neck, running his tongue over the overheated skin as he stilled, giving her time to adjust to his size. He was bigger than she expected, filling her with a slight burn that soon turned pleasurable as she got used to the stretch.

“Shit Rain, please fuck me,” She moaned as he listened to her plead, slowly starting to move within her, dragging back, almost pulling completely out, before slamming back in. The edge of the amp dug into her waist with every powerful thrust, pushing the air out of her lungs and creating a dull throb of pain. Rain seemed to acknowledge this, his hands leaving her neck to grip her hips tightly, lifting her slightly up to match his movements and avoid the amp. The angle this created had Rain brushing against the spot that made her see stars with every thrust. If she had use of her legs, they would fail her instantly from the amount of pleasure she was being given.

Rain kept a steady pace, relentlessly pounding into her as her hands roamed desperately to find purchase somewhere. Her nails dug uselessly on the surface of the amp, most likely leaving some incriminating scratch marks. Like he had a direct link to her train of thought, Rain shifted positions, pushing in until he was flush against her, hands leaving her hips to grab both of her wrists and yank them behind her back. Her walls squeezed around him as he transferred both of her wrists to one hand, using the other to snake between her and the amp. A chuckle came from deep in his throat as it found its intended destination.

He teased her clit as he ground into her, circulating his hips in tandem with his fingers and pushing her over the edge of another mind-blowing orgasm. Rain groaned as he fucked her through it, her cries completely unmuffled and announcing their activities to anyone in the immediate vicinity. She wouldn’t be surprised if the fans waiting outside for the front of the pit could hear their favourite bassist bringing her to another climax.

Rain’s hips stuttered as his growing knot began to push against her entrance. She’d never needed something more in her life than to be stuffed full of his cock and knot. She pushed back eagerly but Rain’s hands moved to grip her hips hard, stilling her movement.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you’ve never taken a knot before,” Rain let out a soft groan as she tried once again to impale herself on him.

“Ask me for a colour,” She demanded breathlessly, clenching down on him with anticipation.

“W-what?” Rain stuttered, his head swimming in the sensation as she squeezed around him again.

“I said ask me for a fucking colour,” She spat, not even having the decency to be ashamed of how badly she needed this, something she’d never experienced.

“Colour?” Rain breathed out, his grip on her hips tightening to an almost painful level.

“Green, holy mother of Satan fucking green, Rain. Please knot me, fill me up, I need you." She begged, and Rain really didn’t need any more convincing. He proceeded to fuck into her, slow and shallow at first, before he began to pick up speed. He brutally thrust until his knot pushed its way in, her opening stretching to an almost painful width to accommodate him. Rain released a primal growl as he spilled his seed deep within her, hitting places she was sure no other man had managed to reach. The pleasure from the overstimulation and pain wrenched another climax from her, a strangled cry leaving her lips at the assault on her senses.

Rain slumped against her, pushing her body into the amplifier. He leaned up to kiss and nibble at her neck as he waited for the swelling of his knot to go down. She melted into him as he moved his hands over her body. They stayed like that, connected in the moment, until Rain chuckled softly.

"What?" She questioned, turning her head to look at him but was met with his hand on her chin, keeping her gaze firmly away. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple in apology, but didn't allow her to see his face.

"I won the bet." He spoke the words like a coveted secret, and she supposes it is, since she had no idea what he was talking about. The confusion must have been evident in her body language, as Rain elabortated. "Dew bet the band that he'd be the first to taste you, see you unravel beneath him, to hear the sounds of your pleasure..." He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

"So that's all this was? Some stupid bet between you guys?" She couldn't deny the pang of hurt that echoed in her chest. Here she was, having one of the best sexual experiences in her life all because Rain wanted to brag to the band. She felt like a pawn in their game. All her feelings of passion and pleasure were nothing more than a way for them to prove their manhood. She felt traitorous tears pooling her eyes. Rain once again read her like a book, his head pushing into her neck as he purred softly.

"Don't be absurd," He admonished gently. "I've been drawn to you since the moment I laid eyes on you. But while this is has been a fantasy come to life, I admit I will get some sick pleasure in seeing the look on Dew's face when he catches a sniff of my scent all over you." She blushed at the thought, now knowing the ghouls would be able to smell exactly what had taken place in this storage room. It sent a thrill of excitement down her spine, and she had to agree that she was interested in the reactions of his fellow band members.

"I don't suppose you'll make good on your threat from earlier and leave me for the next unsuspecting victim to stumble upon this room?" She still felt slight arousal at the thought of being used by another ghoul, but she was tired and would love to not be stuck in this position any longer. A quick shower and a small nap before the show tonight sounded ideal.

"I think you deserve a reward," Rain chuckled, pulling back and stepping away from her completely. She whined at the loss of his touch, the sound of his belt buckle clinking back into place echoing through the quiet room. Within a few seconds his hands were back around her, lifting her up with one arm. His other hand came underneath to detach her corset from where it was snagged on the amp. He continued to raise her up and over the amp, her hand snatching out quickly to grab the velvet bag that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

When she turned around in his arms she was slightly disappointed to see his helmet back in place. But the black mouth covering was bunched around his neck, exposing the lower half of his face. Her free hand lifted to run over his stubble-covered cheek. Rain moved a hand under her chin, tilting her face up so he could lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips, his helmet clumsily bumping her nose. They both pulled back chuckling.

"Shall we return those to their rightful owner?" Rain questioned as he moved to open the door for her, motioning down the hallway as a mischievous smirk spread across his lips before he put his mouth cover back in its intended position.

"I'd love to," She replied, stepping out of the room with anticipation of a certain fire ghoul's reaction.

#the band ghost #Ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #rain ghoul x reader #rain ghoul #gloom writes

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vaspider · 1 year

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I’m an aroace proshipper. I have trauma relating to kink, specifically bdsm. (Abusive ex partner who pretended it was kink, yadda yadda)

I feel weird when tagging #tw kink because I know to a great part of the queer community and historically it is a significant part of our culture. I don’t shame kink, I am full well aware kink relationships are often the most healthy. I know especially power-dynamic kinks can be a relief and make relationships more healthy.

I am fully aware the principles of safe, sane, consensual should be widely taught and are quite essential as well as the open communication kink necessitates. Which is just one more reason kink relationships are more healthy and honest than your average vanilla relationship.

None of this changes that I personally have trauma-association and may get triggered if I’m concerning myself too much with kink-heavy (specifically power-exchange) subjects.

I also run an education/ activism blog focused on aro/ ace/ apl/ tertiary attraction which I keep mostly seperate from my proship-views but even there I feel guilty for tagging content warnings relating to kink.

I suppose I just want you to tell me it’s alright I keep tagging #tw kink if I reblog memes.

Look.

Some of my triggers are perfectly mundane things. I've asked for people to trigger tag certain bands for me in the past.

You can trigger tag anything, and it's not wrong or a judgment for you to do so. I'm not saying that, like, the Beastie Boys are terrible because hearing them reminds me of one of the worst nights of my life. I'm just saying that... I would like to be able to make the choice on whether or not to engage that content (or would have, back when it was really triggering for me. That night was 20 years ago, and I'm mostly over it now).

You're not a bad person for tagging something, but if it makes you uncomfortable because you feel like it's conveying some sort of judgment call on your part, perhaps you could tag it 'content warning' or 'content notification' instead? Would tagging it 'cw kink' or 'cn kink' make you feel better, and less judgmental? If so, that's a perfectly cromulent alternative. A content warning or content notification could be as simple as 'hey, you might not want to open this on the subway, or if your kids can read it,' and that might remove some of the emotional freight that 'trigger warning' seems to be carrying for you.

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rachelsfav-queer · 5 months

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So just checking, Wednesday is an adult in your baby Wednesday things? I'm trying to not judge but I don't understand, it sounds intriguing but it's non-sexual content? So does Wednesday become a child mentally while being stuck in an adult body?

I've only seen daddy and mommy used in sexual context so I'm trying to learn

Ah yes! Thanks for asking!

So, there’s a thing called age regression or little space. It’s basically the willful regression of one’s mind to that of a younger child. Age regressors can regress to any age but typically it’s ages ranging from 1 to around 7/8, at least to my knowledge. In many cases, it’s a coping mechanism for people to get another chance to be a kid after dealing with a childhood of trauma. For myself, that is what age regression is used for as I had quite a lot of trauma for a lot of my life.

As for the sexual themes, age regression is strictly non-sexual. There is such a thing as “age-play” but that is distinctly different from age regression and it’s not actually a kink explored in VampRavenWolf, at least not yet, so I won’t bother to explain the differences. If you want to know more, I suggest you do some research of your own! But age regression, there are zero instances where there will be any sexual content attached to Wednesday’s little space.

That is because, as said before, age regression is willfully regressing to a younger age mentally, and therefore, when regressed, a “little” cannot consent as they do not have the mindset of a grown adult. But, that does not mean that while not regressed, the person cannot have sex. As long as it is safe, sane, and consensual, an age regressor can still have sex outside of their little space.

As for the use of Mommy and Daddy, yes it’s used in a sexual context quite often and it’s used in that context in this ship at times, but they’re also just a title used for the age regression part of this ship. Another part of age regression is having a caregiver or someone who will look after the regressor whilst they are in little space. They’re not required and some people can enjoy little space perfectly well without any caregiver, but it can help for a lot of people to feel the experience of someone caring for them and loving them as they may not have been able to experience as a child. So, a caregiver acts as just that. They give care to an age regressor to help bring them comfort while in little space.

And a caregiver can have any sort of title, but Mommy, Daddy, or Aunt are the most common ones. It’s up to the regressor and caregiver to decide whatever makes them both happy.

And finally, yes Wednesday is an adult in this ship, as is Enid and Yoko and Bianca. They are all STRICTLY 18+ as I personally do not write ANY sexual content where minors are involved, EVER!! It’s why my blog is strictly 18+ and I will not hesitate to block minors, or ageless blogs attempting to follow me!

Thank you for your question, and thanks for trying to understand instead of just assuming!

#anon ask #ask answered #vampravenwolf #baby wednesday #agere wednesday #consent #age regression

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anabsolutemyth · 10 months

Text

Training Lee Taemin

Session One: Pegging and Exhibitionism

Characters/Pairings: Taemin, Reader / Taemin x Reader

Content: Pegging, mild exhibitionism, light kink. Male submission/femdom. Due to later (planned) chapters, Reader uses she/her pronouns and has breasts and a vagina. 18+ only.

Word Count: 2325

You sat the strap down on the desk just at the edge of Taemin's vision and walked over to him, placing one hand gently on the small of his back. He had started to get hard, clearly turned on by the thought of being seen, something you'd keep in mind.

You let out a quiet sigh as you collected yourself. The nerves had crept up on you unexpectedly as you prepared your apartment for tonight's client. It had been years since you had felt this way before a session; a little on edge, tapping your fingers against your desk, foot bouncing to a silent song in your head. Of course you knew that you shouldn't feel this way, after all, a significant portion of your clients were very attractive, successful people in the entertainment industry, but this one had got to you. You reminded yourself however, that in this situation you were the one in a position of power, you were the teacher. That is how you brought your nerves under control.

The buzzer for your intercom went off at five to six.

A visibly nervous Taemin entered your fourth floor apartment. Unlike some of your other clients he had managed to follow at least one of your instructions: he was wearing a comfortable pair of blue jeans and a loose black top. After you greeted each other you spent the next 15 minutes or so on the sofa going over the basics: proof that you were both clean, letting him know about the CCTV both out-and-inside of the apartment (for everyone’s security, deleted nightly unless a client wants it saved), the basic tenets of “safe, sane, and consensual”, signing off some paperwork. Then the most important question.

“Did you decide on a safeword?”

“Daegu,” Taemin replied, surprisingly sure of himself.

“Good,” you said, scribbling his safeword in your notebook, “for future reference mine is ‘Boston’.” You smiled gently across at him, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you tonight.”

With your client appearing more comfortable you decided it was time to properly start the first session. He watched you as you stood up, placing your notebook on the desk across the room and taking a seat again in a stylish office chair, legs crossed, your eyes settling on him. The distance between you changed the atmosphere in the room.

“Up,” you commanded.

Taemin stood up without hesitation and you gave him little time to think, before asking him to take his place in the centre of the room, facing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over Seoul. He was too far back from the window to be seen, or to see the streets below, but you wanted to make him aware of what the evening may hold. After a few seconds you got up and made your way over to Taemin, loving the way his eyes followed you, anticipating what you would do. You circled around him once, slowly, looking him up and down as you went.

“Top off, Taemin.”

He pulled it over his head which revealed a burning heart tattoo on his forearm and what looked like a floral piece on his hip, pretty decorations for his immensely attractive physique. Bulkier and less defined than his Danger days, but a perfectly toned dancer’s body.

A gentle tug on the waist of his jeans, “And these.” Off they came, along with his boxers, thrown towards the sofa.

You stood back a bit to admire his body for a moment, taking in the soft definition of muscles beneath his smooth skin. As your eyes travelled lower you noted that Taemin was a bit of a shower, nothing pornstar-worthy, but a good few inches for you to play with. Part of you hoped he was a bit of a grower too.

Visual inspection over, it was time to get ready.

"I'm just going to grab some things I need for this session, wait for me by the window, Taemin."

As you made your way to the hall leading to the other rooms, you could sense that Taemin wasn't quite doing what he had been told. Popping your head round the corner you could see him closer to the window but still far enough away to be hidden.

In a more demanding tone this time, "Closer Taemin-ah, I want to show you off."

He obeyed, moving so that he was little more than a few inches from the glass. Heading back down the hall to gather your things you wondered if Taemin had seen the tinted glass in your apartment before he came up, the kind that affords the occupants privacy while still allowing the outside to be seen. Judging by his hesitation to be right at the window, you assumed he hadn't noticed it. All the better for his fantasy.

Returning to the living room with your strap-on and lube, you reminded Taemin to use his safe word if he needed to stop, or 'yellow' if he was getting close to his limit. After a nod of affirmation from him, things got started.

You sat the strap down on the desk just at the edge of Taemin's vision, picked up the lube that was sitting there, and walked over to him, placing one hand gently on the small of his back. He had started to get hard, clearly turned on by the thought of being seen, something you'd keep in mind.

"Lean forward, brace yourself against the window."

He did so, arms steadying him against the glass, the position making his back arch ever so slightly to showcase his ass. A sharp breath left him as you let cold, silky lube drip down from the bottle to the cleft of his ass, gradually making it's way between his cheeks and over his hole. You squeezed some more onto your fingers and set the bottle down.

"Have you been penetrated before, Taemin?" You asked, letting your fingers explore.

Clearing his throat, he answered, "Yes."

That was the answer you wanted to hear, it made things so much easier. You continued talking to Taemin as you slid two of your fingers up and down the velvety trail of his ass.

"You like the idea of being watched then, Taemin," you said ambiguously, somewhere between a statement and a question.

"I don't-" Taemin tried to choke out a response just as you pressed a finger past his tight, slick hole.

"I left you alone, naked and soft, in front of a window for a few minutes and came back to you nursing a semi. What else could have caused that, Taemin?"

You moved your finger in and out, working his body open slowly. After a moment you added a second, speeding up slightly, twisting your wrist and spreading your fingers out to loosen the man up for your strap. Taemin was starting to enjoy himself, soft hums of contentment bouncing off the window pane. Before Taemin had a chance to speak, you continued provoking him, "All of those people down there, any one of them could look up right now and see you on display... and you love that, don't you?" He moaned as you took his stiff cock in your free hand and jerked roughly up his shaft.

"Yes..." he trailed off, whining when your fingers rubbed against his prostate for a second.

"Good boy," you scoffed, loosening your grip on his cock, "honesty suits you far better than trying to be coy."

You removed your fingers and left Taemin to put on your strap.

It was a simple thing, looking almost identical to a jockstrap but with the addition of some buckles and an o-ring at the front, and the sleek black dildo you had put in it. For the first session you erred on the side of caution and chose a slimmer one, nothing big or fancy or ribbed for his pleasure, just the basics.

The fabric tightened on your hips and thighs as you adjusted the buckles to size, securing the harness. You definitely did not want a loose harness to make you slip up during your first session, especially after feeling so nervous earlier in the day.

Taemin glanced round as you walked back over to him and his eyes widened when they drifted lower on your body, noticing the toy that was going to be used on him. It was quite common, in your experience, for men to act like this the first time they were pegged. Most of the time it wasn’t the penetration itself or the size of the toy that made them nervous, after all, the majority had at the very least experimented with toys themselves. It was the power exchange that set them off, the thought of being taken by a woman. Subversion of society's standards of who should be the giver and the taker.

Once you reached him his head was bowed.

Nervously, Taemin let out a breath as you placed a hand on his hip, lining up to enter him. With one hand around the head of the toy, you pushed gently against his hole, letting it stretch a little around the silicone, then pulling back before pushing in again, this time getting past the resistance. Taemin choked out a quiet moan when his rim popped around the head of the toy as it entered him.

You didn't give him much time to get used to the feeling, slowly pushing further into him, pulling out to the head and sliding back in. A steady pace had been set, one that was matched by a steady stream of satisfied noises coming from your sub after a few minutes of being fucked.

You let your hands wander over his skin; up his wide back, down over his ribs and round to chest, one hand stopping to play with one of his nipples, tweaking it between your fingers, while the other continued down his stomach, resting just above his cock. You didn't want to spoil him with too much stimulation, so you left his dick untouched but gently caressed close enough to tease.

Whimpering, Taemin begged, “Please, faster... harder, I need more."

As tempting as his plea was, you kept rolling your hips into him lazily and slid your hand up over his stomach, away from where he wanted it most.

"Argh, fuck!" he growled desperately, "Touch me. Please!"

You'd toyed with him enough with the slow pace so you picked it up, grabbing his hips in both hands to slam into him hard and fast, the sound of slapping skin and lube filling the room alongside Taemin's deep groans.

Between breaths you spat out a response to his needy outburst, "You'll come from my strap alone or you'll not come at all, Taemin."

Taking your hands off his hips for a minute, you spread his ass to watch as you kept thrusting into him. He took the strap so well and you looked forward to seeing just how much he could take. You let go and gave his ass a slap before slowing down again, rolling your hips to aim for his prostate as you started taunting him.

"One of your fans could be walking past right now, wondering what their little Taeminnie is doing, but if they just looked up they'd know exactly what you were up to."

The words were getting to him, his breathing becoming erratic and heavy, his moans merging into one. You kept pushing, thrusting deep and hard again, wanting to see and hear him fall apart.

"What a beautiful sight you'd be for them. Skin flushed and glistening, your leaking cock smearing pre-cum on the window, ass filled and a face painted with fucked-out bliss."

The moans were almost constant as you thrust into him hard and fast, building in volume, speed, and pitch before ending in a breathy, wanton crescendo as he came untouched, white streaking across the glass. You held his hips, slowing your pace but continuing to fuck him through his orgasm.

Moans had faded to breathlessness, his cock dripped the last of his cum onto the floor, and you massaged up his back with one hand as you gently pulled out from him.

"God," you said, breathless, "you took that so well Taemin." You undid the straps around your thighs, set the toy down over on your desk, and headed down the hall to grab a couple of damp cloths. Taemin was a picture of embarrassment when you returned, standing with his back to the window.

"Uhh, I..." he started, eye contact all but impossible, "I'm sorry about the mess." His eyes briefly darted to the cum-covered window and floor.

"If I didn't want you to come on my window, believe me, I wouldn't have let you." You handed Taemin the cloth and let him clean himself up while you sorted the rest. You told him what to do as you finished up, "Lie yourself down on the sofa, just on your front."

Taemin did as you asked, albeit looking a little puzzled as you disappeared down the hall. When you returned, you had a tub of body butter with you.

You perched on the edge of the sofa by Taemin's thighs and spun the lid off the tub, letting the delicate scent of coconut float through the room. Taking a small scoop from it, you started slowly and gently massaging it into Taemin's skin, soothing the redness left by your grip and thrusts earlier. His eyes had drifted shut, lying with his head on his arms.

You worked the balm over his hips, across the small of his back, and over his ass and thighs.

"Did you enjoy yourself Taemin?" you asked gently.

"Mhmm," he replied, no more than a murmur.

"Was there anything you didn't like?"

His response was muffled by his arm but you managed to make out, "I loved it all."

"Good, I'm glad," you said with a smile.

You gave his backside a gentle pat, got up from the sofa and asked him to get dressed. After checking that he hadn't left anything behind, having heard about his reputation for losing his phone, you sent him on his way, telling him that you'd get in touch soon to arrange the next session

#shinee smut #taemin smut #kpop smut #taemin x reader #t:fic #t:writing #g:shinee #m:taemin

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jedifighterpilot2727 · 7 months

Note

Not me thinking about Kara gently hooking her thumb in Lena’s open mouth, both gasping against each other’s lips as kara makes love to her 😭😭 yeah I’m all in favor of you writing this one first 🥹

I'll be perfectly honest, I can't remember the exact scenario that this ask is referring to, but this visual has been stuck in my head for weeks, so I had to do something with it! This is also in the spirit of some of the more . . . shall we say . . . salacious prompts and headcanons I've received, I hope it lives up to expectation!

FRIENDLY REMINDER that sexy times should always be safe, sane, and consensual! And you should also only have the kind of sex described here with someone you trust and who wouldn't actually hurt you or abuse you. Sex can be like a really vulnerable thing, and Kara and Lena have had plenty of previous discussions about hard and soft limits, and even thought they are VERY angry at one another, neither of them are in any real danger and they both know it. Also, AFTERCARE doesn't take place in the text of the story, but it is EXTREMELY important and does happen with Kara and Lena in this particular setting . . . eventually.

Anyways, I feel like this one needed a disclaimer lol.

Fragile

If the ride up the elevator to the penthouse takes forever, then the biometric scanner at the door somehow takes even longer.

When she built the damn thing, she built it for protection, not for speed, but as she waits on the iris scanner to process through the one million specific data points that make it practically unhackable - even by Lena herself - she finds herself rethinking her priorities.

Because right now she needs nothing more than to be inside her apartment, locked away from the world.

The penthouse was her one solace.

Her one impenetrable place.

Everywhere else had been invaded.

By the media, the DEO, Lex, Cadmus, you name it.

But here, here was safe.

Luckily, Kara will be held up at the DEO debriefing that Lena had run out on for at least another hour or two. By then, Lena will have had time to scrub Kara's biometrics from the apartment entry software and fully lock herself in her apartment.

Her own little fortress of solitude.

She almost laughs at the irony.

She's too angry to laugh, too hurt - too angry at being hurt.

How dare Kara - how dare Supergirl, for that matter- call her out for her 'reckless behavior' in front of Alex and the other DEO agents.

Her plan was well calculated, and she was very aware of the risks she was taking by going through with it.

Besides, she made it out with barely a few bruises.

Only because Kara rescued you. the traitorous part of her brain unhelpfully adds.

The locks on the door finally click open, and she lets herself in, fully re-engaging the security protocol behind her.

Lena is well and truly pissed.

She doesn't remember being this pissed in a long fucking time; and she's certainly never been this pissed at Kara.

How dare she?

Really!

Of all the nerve!

To try and publicly admonish Lena for something she herself would have done - has done - time and time over.

Just because she's Supergirl, she thinks she can be all self righteous and holier-than-thou and you know what?

Fuck her.

Fuck her and her stupid cape, and her stupid heat vision and her stupid flying and her stupid fucking hair and . , ,

"Yeahhughh!" Lena shouts, slamming the control panel of her security system closed. There, let Kara try to get in now.

Good fucking luck.

Unless she just decided to use brute strength and force her way in.

But Lena had just had to listen to a thirty minute lecture about how perfect fucking superheroes never do anything "unethical", so that would be a little out of character, now wouldn't it?

With a few quick switches, she brings down the bulletproof shades down over the floor to ceiling windows looking out over National City. After only a moment's hesitation, she also brings down the lead shades she'd installed.

Let Kara wonder what she's up to and worry about her.

Serves her right.

With one final look over everything to make sure she's locked in tight, Lena heads to to the kitchen. There's a bottle of Scotch with her name on it, and she thinks it's high time she indulges. She even goes for one of those fancy circle ice cubes that her chef insists make everything a 'designer cocktail'; but after she pours a couple of fingers into her favorite glass, something stops her.

It's Kara's voice in her head - because of fucking course it is - asking tentatively if maybe she should talk about her problems instead of trying to drink them away.

And you know what?

Fuck that, because the memory of Kara is quickly ushered along by one of her therapist - and she is not in any sort of mood to be thinking about therapy of all things. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she pours the amber liquid down the drain with a scowl.

Damn it, if Kara can ruin a good glass of Scotch, then she can ruin just about anything

With a huff, she heads to her master suite, because if she can't self harm with alcohol then she can at least take a scalding hot shower. And maybe that's not exactly healthy either; but Kara's voice in her head is silent at least, and besides, she needs a shower. She knows that her hair is a mess and she's pretty sure Alex was crinkling her nose in disgust whenever Lena stepped upwind of her at the debriefing.

Guess entering the alien ship through the trash chute wasn't her most hygienic option; but hey, it got the job done at least.

She turns the shower nozzle on as hot as it will go, and then waits for steam to fill up the bathroom before she sheds her clothes and steps in.

It's only a few minutes before her skin is red from the heat but she feels marginally better; the smell of lavender and mint permeating the bathroom.

When she eventually becomes numb to the sting of the water, she turns the knobs in the other direction until she's being blasted with water so cold that it almost feels like she's doing one of Alex's ridiculous ice water plunges.

She washes her hair twice before she's satisfied enough to move on to conditioner, and she alternates the water temperature between the two extremes at least four times; that and the extra attention from her loofah leaving her skin feeling tingly and raw.

As she stands in front of the mirror drying her hair with a towel, she has to admit that the shower was definitely more productive than the drinking. Plus she still has a clear head and all of her faculties.

Faculties that she can use to plot petty revenge on her girlfriend.

The thought gives her pause.

Was Kara still her girlfriend?

They hadn't exactly broken up, but they hadn't exactly talked either.

Well, besides Kara having the audacity to call her attempt to save the world 'hare-brained' and 'borderline stupid'. But now Lena has effectively taken away Kara's keys to her apartment, and it's not like Kara has bothered to try and come by anyways.

Maybe they were over.

Good riddance, in Lena's book.

She didn't need Supergirl, or Kara Danvers. Or friends for that matter. Or the DEO, or game night, or Kara eating ice cream with her at three in the morning when she can't sleep or -

She doesn't need any of it.

She was doing just fine on her own.

Just like she was doing just fine on that alien ship before Kara came to 'rescue' her.

Angrily, she yanks a hairbrush through any tangles the conditioner left behind, and throws on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

But damn it if it isn't one of Kara's t-shirts that she accidentally pulls out of the drawer.

She doesn't realize it's Kara's until after she's pulled it over her head ,and even though tears sting her eyes at the realization, she doesn't take it off.

It's one of the plain white v-necks that Kara likes to hang around the apartment in, and it's slightly too big for Lena. Muscles and aggressive lounging have stretched it out, and it's soft almost to the point of threadbare.

Fuck it.

It's her shirt now.

She's claiming it.

Not in a 'steal it from your girlfriend to be cute' way, but in a petty theft kind of way.

Hows that for 'unethical'?

She'll just tell Kara to add that to her long list of crimes against humanity.

She pads into the living room, frowning when she sees the blinking light on her security camera monitor. Who could possibly be bothering her now?

A quick look shows that it's not the lobby camera but the balcony camera, and she flicks the feed over to see Kara - Supergirl - hovering outside.

She should have guessed, really.

Of all of Kara's annoying qualities, tenacity was certainly one of the top five.

Kara's gaze shoots to the camera, almost as if she senses Lena watching her.

"Lena, I know you're in there." Kara's voice is pleading, but Lena makes no move to answer; instead shifting her attention to her cuticles. She could really use a manicure, and she makes a mental note to text Jess later.

It's a long moment before the camera's speaker sounds again.

"You took my biometrics off of the balcony door lock."

. . .

"I'm going to assume that you took them off of the inside door as well, because you're nothing if not thorough." Kara spits the word out like it's derogatory, and Lena can't help but feel a spike of sinful pride.

The silence lasts a good five minutes this time before Kara speaks.

"Damn it, Lena! Let me in!"

There it is.

The anger Lena's been waiting for.

Normally Supergirl stays so calm and proper, but occasionally, occasionally, she lets that Kryptonian temper fly.

Lena allows a hint of an evil grin before she shuts the camera monitor off and walks to the refrigerator. Just because she can't use her fancy ice cubes for whiskey, doesn't mean she can't use them in a sparkling water; because nothing says 'gloating super villain' like a bottle of water that costs more than Kara makes in an hour.

So, she fixes another glass with ice and pours the water in until the bubbles almost spill over the top. Then she takes a long, refreshing sip - letting the hint of lemon-lime in the effervescence tickle her nose.

You're not a super villain. You're not a villain at all. the voice in her head reminds her.

The thought should bring her peace, but instead it only infuriates her more. Just because she chooses to do things differently than Supergirl doesn't mean that Kara gets to guilt trip her about it.

She does a lot of good for this world.

A whole hell of a lot more good than anyone in her family has ever done bad; despite Lex and Lillian's best efforts. She's more than made up for her family name, and she's more than proved herself an ally to Supergirl, and how dare Kara try to make her feel like anything less.

She drains the glass before slamming it down with a little more force than necessary.

Fuck.

Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

She braces herself against the kitchen counter, staring blankly past the glass doors of the cabinets at the cups and bowls meticulously stacked inside.

She's not sure how long she stands there before a loud crack from living room snaps her attention away. She turns to see Kara standing just inside, the remnants of Lena's door lock dangling from her fingertips.

Lena clucks her tongue.

"Well, well, well; Supergirl breaking and entering, aren't you just the little deviant."

Kara's eyes are flaming with anger, and Lena's half surprised that she hasn't been melted into the floor with heat vision.

After a long staring contest, Kara walks towards Lena's work bench in the corner and tosses the pieces of door lock on it.

"Right, cause I'm just Miss goody-two-shoes."

"If the shoe fits." Lena smirks at the cleverness of her own pun, but Kara's scowl only deepens as she stalks into the kitchen.

Her gaze darts around before settling on the empty glass on the counter and then the still open bottle of Scotch. She gives Lena a hard glare.

"Really, Lena? You leave me outside so you can what? Get drunk and ignore your feelings?"

Kara's voice raises as she speaks, and the end of the question comes out in a bellow; Kara's face red and angry as she reaches for the bottle of Scotch and pitches it across the kitchen.

It shatters against the countertop, and once again Lena's finds herself grateful that she always invests in durable building supplies.

Normally, Kara would look petulant after any sort of outburst, but in this case it's seemed only to fan the flames of her ire. Her entire body is shaking so much that she's practically vibrating.

Years of dealing with the Luthor family drama is the only thing that lets Lena look unbothered, despite the discontent in her chest.

"I was drinking water, actually, but thank you for getting rid of the rest of the bottle, I'm trying to cut back."

Kara almost has the decency to look scolded, but it fades quickly.

"You are . . ."

"What?" Lena snaps.

"Completely infuriating."

"You just can't stand it that I can fix things without your help, can you? It really gets under your skin that I can do just as much good as you without parading myself as some sort of paragon of honor and justice."

Kara barks a laugh.

"That's what you think this is? You think I'm upset because you're trying to do good? Every time you go off on one of your hare-brained schemes -"

"There's that word again, you know you'd think for an ace reporter you'd have a broader vocabulary." Lena can tell by Kara's shift in posture that her words hit home, and she allows herself a moment to gloat before Kara's steely blue eyes settle heavily on her and she feels the breath seep out of her chest.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to make me angry." Kara's voice is dangerous and low, igniting something in Lena - a feeling she can't quite place.

In an odd sort of way, It feels good, to have Kara angry at her.

To have Kara expressing something instead of that stone cold facade she'd held at the DEO. Lena craves it, needs it.

Needs something to distract her from the aftermath of delayed panic and guilt that's starting to overtake her.

"Maybe I am."

Lena knows what she's doing is basically like dangling raw meat in front of a bear and daring it to chase after her.

Kara studies her for a long moment before lifting her gaze away. The silence floats around them like a fog as Kara stares off in the distance - her stare fixated on something that isn't really there. Her fingers drumroll heavy on the counter and the durability of the quartz counter top is tested for a second time that night.

Lena can see the muscles of her jaw clenching and unclenching, teeth grinding together so harshly that she briefly wonders if the creation of diamonds would be possible under such conditions.

After a few long, tense minutes, Kara's gaze settles back on Lena and she shifts under the weight of it.

"Do you think," Kara takes a slow step forward before repeating herself. "Do you think I do it for you? Do you think that when you recklessly throw yourself into danger that I just drop everything and rescue you, for you? Do you think you're so important that I just risk everything for you?" She's close enough now that her breathy laugh ghosts over Lena's face.

"I'm a very . . . selfish woman, Lena. All those times that I threw caution to the wind, that I risked the very fate of the universe in order to save you - I did it for me."

Kara's gaze is threatening to burn a, (quite literal), hole in Lena's skull and she can't help but take a step back. Only, Kara follows, and now Lena's boxed in between her and the counter. The exact definition of a rock and a hard place.

"Do you know why, I always rescue you, Lena?" Both her tone and the fingers tracing Lena's cheekbone are overtly tender, but right below the surface is an edge of sharpened steel.

"Because I have lost everything , and I will not lose you." Kara's hand drops to Lena's neck, thumb pressing harshly into her bottom lip.

It's some sort of animal instinct that has Lena tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck like a dog to its alpha.

Kara's eyes study her face for a long while, as if she's cataloguing every detail for her sketchbook later.

Lena uses the opportunity to analyze Kara.

Her blonde hair has been washed of the grease that had been streaking it earlier. and she smells faintly of ozone and unfallen rain, and Lena wonders how much time she spent circling in the atmosphere before she decided to stop by for a visit.

Long enough to get pissed, by the look of barely concealed rage on her face.

That's ok, Lena's pissed too; and she's never been one to back away from a fight.

"If you would just listen to me -" Kara starts but Lena's already heard enough.

"You mean if I would just shut up and do what you tell me."

"That's not what I said."

"But that's what you meant, isn't it? That your life would be easier if I would just fall in line and do things the Supergirl way. Spoiler alert, Kara; the Supergirl way isn't always the best way."

With one last, defiant meeting of their eyes, Lena sidesteps out of Kara's reach and uses a broom to start sweeping at the remnants of the broken Scotch bottle on the floor.

She can feel Kara's eyes on her, but she very pointedly ignores her, choosing instead to keep her back positioned to the superhero.

When the majority of the glass is scooped up and deposited in the trash, she reaches for a washcloth, wetting it in the sink before turning her attention to the shards of glass on the countertop, carefully wiping them onto the dustpan.

"Lena."

The plea in Kara's voice is evident, but Lena still ignores it, forcing herself to stay focused on the task at hand.

"Lena."

This time Kara is more insistent, and her hand reaches out to rest on Lena's shoulder, but Lena shrugs it off with grunt.

Before can even process what's happening, Kara is spinning her around; pressing Lena's hips hard into the counter with her own, bending her backwards until her head is trapped against the cabinets.

Kara's laugh is dark.

"Do you even realize how fragile you are?"

Lena can't deny that Kara's aura is a little frightening, and her hands scramble for purchase on the counter, looking for anything to give her leverage. She feels the fragment of glass under her finger like crumb a split second before she registers the prick of pain.

"Shit." she jerks her hand up, trying to examine the wound, but Kara intercepts it, closing her fingers around Lena's wrist in a bruising grip. Lena's tries unsuccessfully to snatch her hand back, but Kara doesn't relent; her tone mocking as she smirks.

"See? Fragile."

"Stop that, I'm bleeding."

"What, you don't want me to clean up your mess this time?"

Lena just thought she was mad before.

If looks could kill, then Kara would certainly be dead from the daggers that Lena is shooting into her skull.

Before she can voice a come back, Kara's lips close around the tip of her finger, sucking away the dark red droplet of blood so she can get an unobstructed view of the wound. It irritates Lena to know that Kara can hear the uptick in her heart rate just like she can hear the way Lena's breath catches in her throat at the intimate action.

Kara's eyes narrow as she examines Lena's finger, and Lena knows that she's using her x-ray vision to check for hidden injuries.

Hidden injuries.

On practically a fucking paper cut for gods sake.

She uses Kara's distraction to successfully jerk her hand away, but in less than a split second, she's been recaptured and whisked to the sink. The water is cold as Kara holds the offended finger under the stream, and Lena can't help but roll her eyes.

Just like Kara to be over protective and smothering - a fact that's even more evident when Lena feels the rush of wind as Kara super speeds to the hall closet where the first aid kit is kept and returns with a bandaid and antiseptic in hand.

Kara's look dares Lena to argue with her, and Lena chooses to pick her battles.

So Lena holds still as Kara cleans and dresses her wound, minor as it may be, green eyes attempting to bore a hole from one side of Kara's head to the other. Finally, the job is finished, and Lena turns her glare to the bright yellow bandage around her finger.

She huffs angrily.

"Kara this is fucking ridiculous, I'm more than capable of - "

The sound of a fist connecting with the wall startles her, and she looks up to see Kara hulking over her - eyes dark and cheeks red.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Kara glowers, and once again her hand settles on Lena's neck. This time, her thumb gently massages at Lena's pulse point.

Lena knows, knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Kara would never hurt her; but her point is loud and clear -

If she wanted to, she could.

The realization sends a shiver down Lena's spine as her eyes shutter closed. She swallows against the pressure on her throat; and when her eyes reopen, Kara is closer than before - blue eyes harsh and glinting as she dares Lena to resist.

Lena doesn't exactly fight her, but she doesn't back down either. For a few long, tense moments, their breath mixes in the air between until Lena isn't quite sure if it's Kara's imposing presence thats leaving her weak in the knees or if it's too much carbon dioxide from their shared air.

"Do it." she dares Kara in a whisper.

"What?"

"Don't play stupid." Lena's voice is raw and broken with emotion, and again she swallows pointedly against Kara's grip; never breaking eye contact.

"We both know you want to hurt me."

Kara doesn't respond verbally, but her fingers flex against Lena's neck.

The tension between them is tight, like a bungee cord about to break; and Lena isn't sure if the resulting snap will bring them crashing together or send them falling apart.

"Do it. Show me you're the only one who gets to break me apart, Supergirl."

Kara's reaction this time is instantaneous.

She lifts Lena effortlessly onto the countertop, stepping between her legs as Lena's head and back slam into the cabinet.

"Fuck." The word is barely spoken before Kara swallows it - teeth clashing against Lena's as her tongue lays claim to Lena's mouth.

The kiss is hot and heavy and possessive, and if Lena thought she was low on oxygen before, she's running on fumes now; her breath panting at every split second of relief she's given from onslaught of Kara's lips. The hand on her hip is bruising, and the hand on her throat moves to fist in her hair. It's too much and not enough; and her own hands are against Kara chest - pushing her away or pulling her in, she isn't really sure which.

Before she can process what's happening, her sweatpants and underwear are yanked off and thrown across the room, and she's hissing as the coldness of the countertop meets her bare ass. Kara makes quick work of her stolen shirt, Lena's negligence at putting on a bra after her shower leaving her nipples peaked and aching as they're exposed to the air.

Then Kara is pressed against her, the material of the super suit rubbing against Lena's still tender skin. But, Kara is warm, so warm, the heat radiating off of her like a furnace; and Lena tugs her impossibly closer, ankles locking around her waist. She shivers as er cunt rubs agains Kara's pelvis, the one place of connection where Lena is hotter than Kara.

"Fuck." Lena repeats, only this time it comes out half slurred, Kara's tongue thick in her mouth.

She should really be careful what she wishes for, because Kara shifts and the hand that was on her waist is now inside her - three of the fingers, anyway, judging by the stretch. It hurts, but she wants more, something inside of her needing to feel Kara's raw power. Kara may need to see that she's the only one with the power to destroy Lena; but so does Lena. Whether she admits it or not, today's close call has left her frightened and vulnerable, and she needs reassurance that Kara will always be there to save her.

So she clutches at Kara, one hand gripping her cape and one on the elbow of the hand that's inside of her, the seam of material that loops over Kara's palm chaffing at her sensitive skin while Kara thumbs her clit. Kara's fingers slip almost completely out before they piston back in, knuckles slamming in so hard that Lena feels her pelvic bone jar with the force.

She's losing all aspects of higher brain function; the only sounds she's capable of making are keening half syllables of desperation. The hand in Lena's hair applies a steady pressure, pulling her back until Kara has easy access to her neck. Lena know as soon as those warm lips give way to teeth on her collarbone that she going to be relegated to high collars for a least a week to hide the bruising.

Kara leads a wet trail down Lena's chest, her fingers never slowing their violent rhythm. As her lips close around Lena's nipple, encasing it in a warm, wet heat, Lena feels her brain short circuit. There's nothing but white hot heat behind her eyes and down her chest, exploding out of her center.

She can feel the wave of orgasm cresting already, and tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Kara must feel her start to tighten because she pulls her head back from Lena's chest and releases her vice grip on Lena's hair. That hand moves instead back to Lena's neck, and this time the pressure isn't merely suggested - it's real - leaving Lena gasping helplessly for air as she chases her release. Her eyes roll back in her head and the rollercoaster is just about to come crashing down the hill when Kara's hand moves again to, (almost gently), cup her chin before her thumb hooks into Lena's panting mouth and pulls their foreheads together.

"Look at me when you cum." Kara growls, and Lena has no choice but to obey. Their eyes meet in a storm of blue and green, pupils wide with lust and fury. The sight is enough to send Lena past the point of no return and her body shakes uncontrollably as her cunt spasms around Kara's still thrusting fingers, her slick spilling into Kara's hand.

She might black out, she's not entirely sure; but when she comes back to her senses Kara's forehead is resting on her shoulder, and her fingers are still thrusting inside Lena - albeit at a much gentler pace.

"Kara." she chokes out in a strangled cry, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her release.

"I've got you, I've got you." Kara promises fervently as she slowly withdraws her hand from its ministrations and scoops Lena up into a bridal carry.

It takes all of Lena's strength to wrap her arms around Kara's neck; but then Kara's lips are on hers, soft and gentle this time. It's easy to lose herself in the kiss, the emotion, the perfect bliss of Kara's embrace. At least until she feels Kara's lips curl in a smirk and she pulls back to see her girlfriend sporting a very self satisfied smile.

Something is triggered in Lena at the almost gloating expression on Kara's face.

Despite the emotional and physical high she just experienced, she can't help but feel a sense of wounded pride at the fact that Kara, in essence, won.

Yet again, Kara gets to play the hero, swooping in and 'rescuing' Lena at the last minute; carrying her distressing damsel off into the sunset.

Lena levels her gaze at the superhero.

Kara coming away from this feeling like the victor?

That, that simply won't do.

Luthors may lose, but Lena - Lena never does.

Whew! We all need cold holy water showers now! There will most likely be a part two to this if reception is good.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #fanfiction

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magnetictapedatastorage · 6 months

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thoughts on f/f couples that practice kink in as “safe/sane/consensual” a way possible? do you think both parties being women changes anything due to power dynamics or otherwise, and do you think a certain amount of kink is excusable/can be non harmful when again performed by women for women, even if it’s not necessarily in line with standard feminist beliefs?

i think it's perfectly fine. after all this time, i've realized lesbians have been the subject of so much self-over-analysis and shame no matter what we do. so whatever lesbians want to do with each other is perfectly fine by me. and yes, i think a homosexual couple has less of an inherent power imbalance (in terms of literal strength as well as being believed by police) than a heterosexual couple, therefore the risks are smaller.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 8 months

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hey it's high-fructose-jay-syrup again. I sent the original question off anon because it's not something I'd feel particularly awkward about anyone connecting to me, but then sent the followup ask on anon because I figured the ask not having gone through had something to do with me sending it off anon lmao (which apparently it did, since you did get the anon ask)

anyhoo. wondering if you have any insight on the line between masochism and self harm? I am realizing that a lot of my prior exploration of that area of kink had more to do with a desire to Feel Something than pure enjoyment of pain (which often resulted in me continuing despite being unsure about my comforts) and I think most of it was not a good idea to be doing and may even have been somewhat traumatizing. so now I'm understandably pretty wary about exploring that field again (I mean I'm wary of sex in general thanks to Trauma TM but yk, someday when that's no longer the case), and wondering if you have any thoughts on how to tell the difference between something that involves pain but is completely safe and enjoyable, and something that is actively damaging and needs to stop, *especially* given the phenomenon of sub drop.

thanke! happy late birthday!

hi not-anon,

this is a very interesting question, and I'm afraid it's not one that I'll be able to offer a very solid answer on. the line between masochism and self-harm that you're seeking is a thin and wavering one, and exactly where it lands varies heavily depending on the individual. there's a pretty excellent book called Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose that I thought of immediately while reading your question; in it, author Leigh Cowart examines their own experiences with ballet, eating disorders, and kink as well as people who partake in pain-seeking activities like eating record-setting amounts of painfully hot peppers, taking part in body-breaking ultramarathons, and flinging themselves into frigid waters on purpose. I think it's very notable that many of the people they talk to discuss former addictions that were much more actively detrimental to their quality of life than their current pain fix; sometimes it's not a matter of "I'm not hurting myself at all," but "hurting myself eating peppers will fuck me up a lot less than hurting myself with alcohol."

if you think about it there are dozens of activities that can simultaneously get a brain pumping dopamine and set off our pain receptions. pulling from just two of my own experiences, I love the pain of a needle when getting a new tattoo, and I love how wrecked my body feels after a couple hours of bouldering - and yes, both of those come with a drop afterwards! does that mean they qualify as self-harm? I don't think so, no, but I can also easily see how either could slip into that, if I were to start pushing my body regularly beyond the threshold of acceptable pain into something more than I can comfortable handle. the problem is that, as I said, that line isn't universal, and sometimes the only way to find out for sure is to push a little too far and see what happens.

it's also worth pointing out that, in terms of sexual masochism specifically, the idea of anything being "completely safe" is a discouraged by a lot of people within the community. this is a large part of RACK, or risk-aware consensual kink; substituting the "safe" in "safe, sane, and consensual" with an acknowledgement that sex involving acts of physical violence, no matter how well-negotiated, cannot ever be 100% perfectly risk free, and that this is a risk that participants must either be willing to accept or not engage with. to my thinking, at least, being risk-aware also means knowing the emotional harm that you would be making yourself vulnerable to by participating, and taking responsibility for that by not seeking out potentially harmful situations.

(safe, sane, and consensual has been reevaluated and contested in other ways in recent years; I wrote more about that and its history here for the curious.)

it seems clear that you're aware of which side of that line you've fallen on in the past, and I'm glad it's something you've been able to recognize and change your behavior around, as it sounds like avoiding SM situations entirely is great for you right now. I don't know if you're on a break from sex altogether, but if you are feeling wary about it, then it certainly couldn't hurt. it bears mentioning that even the most vanilla sex on earth can be (and often is) a form of self harm as much as kinky sex; as always, the thing that matters in the context and the experience of the individual involved.

in regards to any kind of sex, my advice is generally pretty blunt: if you're not sure whether or not something will fuck you up, don't do it. why would you take that risk? there are plenty of spaces in our lives where we have to put up with things that suck, but when it comes to your sex life that shit's completely customizable. skip the things that you're unsure about, focus on what you know works for you, whether that's vanilla sex, kinky sex, or no sex at all.

#sex edventures 2023

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absolutebl · 2 years

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Thoughts on Why Safe & Consensual Sex Is So Rare In BL

This comes out of an ask who wanted to remain anonymous.

Specifically we were discussing Rain & Payu in Love in the Air whom we admit are hot and seem to honestly enjoy each other, and did feature (briefly) a condom (although not enough time to put it on) but no verbal consent, safe words, or lube.

I would likely it to be so perfectly and sublimely clear to all reading that lube is a matter of safety with a-play. Okay? It’s not optional.

Leaving aside the issues with kink (but not really) non-con and dub-con in BL, because I’ve chatted about that before i wanted to noodle on just safe sex as repped in romance dramas in general (or not, as the case may be).

Honestly, I think this is a problem not just in BL but in all romance, much of Hollywood and also the literary side of the equation.

The fact that they struggle just to showcase verbal consent as sexy (which it is) and safe sex as sexy (which it is) shows a profound lack of imagination and is backwards (to say the least) and probubly quite damaging.

Some romance novelists are taking strides to correct for this but it is... rare in % of product produced no matter what media or genre you are in. In matters of cultural honestly TV always lags behind literature by 5-10 years, and international industries are going to be even slower for reasons of culture conflict.

Lack of depictions of SSC (safe, sane, consensual) sex is primarily an issue that comes with misogyny (in BL the seme/uke being code for male/female) and the male "taking what he wants because he’d just so overwhelmed by desire" being conflated with "sexy." The more patriarchal the dominant society the less we see consent and safe sex represented in pop culture (if at all).

There’s a narrative flaw with preparation as well (condoms, lube, other forms of protection) because it indicates premeditation (characterization). The narrative wants the seme to be spontaneous and swept away by his desires, the presence of a condom under such circumstances indicates he either thought about it before and thought the uke would be easy, or was prepared to do it with someone else (gasp). So the narrative can color preparation as a character flaw. (There are ways around this by having the crass/spunky bestie tuck a condom into his trusty tote see Pond in LBC, or have him leave in the middle of hot & heavy to go running arounds drugstores - rare but more common in het dramas.)

There will be additional cultural components in play. Cultures with dominant religious and nationalistic agendas that are pro childbirth, for example, will rarely show condom use. Those where a man having to glove up is associated with “limiting manliness” or somehow “impinging upon control of identity,” the same again. In parts of the world where condoms are associated with gayness and disease control it can have a detrimental effect on use in general, since to use a condom is to be tied to gayness and uncleanliness. (A marketing and messaging problem. Look into some of the research on convincing doctors to wash their hands, for example. Sigh. Podcast No Stupid Questions Ep 116: Do People Pay Attention to Signs? is tangential to this.) This also will have to do with the presence or absence of socialized medicine.

A zeitgeist change needs to happen, much as we saw happen with smoking (in some parts of the world in the late 90s - early 2000s). When neglecting to positively showcase safety in pop culture is actually seen as disgusting or unhygienic (or better: low status, inferior, weak, taboo) the more likely safe sex is to happen. (There’s not enough psyche work done in intentionally instilling disgust, if you ask me. Probably because it infringes on religion’s territory.)

It’s best to attempt to instill a visceral gag factor response if at all possible.

That said, Japanese cinema still loves to show a hot man smoking - clearly thinking it subversive and sexy.

As Oscar Wilde once put it:

“As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always be regarded with fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar it will cease to be popular.”

This essay could have been better said if I cribbed from him,

“As long as risky sex is regarded as wicked, it will always be regarded with fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar it will cease to be popular.”

Also, ya know what, I’m gonna call fanfic on their shit too. It’s on you as well, you slackers. Get your sex right, especially if it’s why people are reading you. Take this as a challenge. What, you think it’s too hard to write safe sex as hot? Are you lily-livered or just incompetent? Do better.

And you know why you should? Because your shit is free and you are doing it for fun. There’s no barrier to entry, therefore most anyone globally can read it, and therefore you owe MORE to your readers, and the next generation of fic authors and sex havers out there, not less.

“Barrier to entry.”

Heh heh.

So clearly as far as I am concerned, the battle, it persists.

Older post here with some earlier BL that depicts safe sex.

This post dated Fall 2022, I’m hoping things change, but I am not responsible to update or keep track of stuff after this date.

(source)

#safe sex in bl #or not #thai bl #japanese bl #love in the air #safe sane consensual #barrier to entry #Oscar Wilde #romance tropes #romance narratives #secret crush on you #love by chance #You're My Sky #Dark Blue Kiss

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