REMEMBER TO BE GENTLE (REQUESTS CLOSED)

🔞NO MINORS🔞 Hello, I'm Raven.♎. Bi. She/Her. Aspiring (and published) writer. Please read the RULES before requesting. If you like my writing, consider buying me a Ko-Fi. Do not expect a consistent schedule as I am a mess. Same writer as @you-are-mine-and-mine-only. Do not be afraid to ask questions! (Warning: this is a side blog).

[remember-to-be-gentle]

👉RULES👈 - READ ALL THE WAY BEFORE REQUESTING

Kïnktøbēr List  Masterlist of Masterlists  BETA Coms 

                                   Writing Comissions

👉My Carrd - check here for request status👈

RULES: 

Please try to keep requests original, too many repeats and I will combine or delete them. Also, if I can't figure out what you want from a request, I will either decline or delete it, assuming it's submitted by an anon.

Everything will be written in 2nd person unless requested otherwise.

NSFW is encouraged, just tell me if you can want it or not 😉. Fetishes are fine, but please try not to go overboard or include non-kosher ones like vomit or scat. I’ve started a comprehensive list of things I won’t write for, please check it out: here. Also, it should be clear from my bio, but no minors - including characters.

Feedback is a necessary part of the writing process, any and all is welcome and highly valued. Also, I have a Ko-Fi if you feel like leaving me a tip.

For all intents and purposes, characters will be aged up to 18 or higher.

Here is a link to My Anime List in case you want to request from something you don't see below. I try to update frequently, and yes, those numbers are real.

Below is a link to the list of characters I feel comfortable writing. Do not be afraid to ask me about others though, I may have forgotten to include some. List will be frequently updated. Characters I write for.

Also, I take commissions! Please look to the links above for information. 

Here is a link to the schedule I try to write on: schedule.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Hi :)

Subject: BNHA, Enji Todoroki aka Endeavor

Title: Ride the #1 Hero!

Trigger Warning: Non con, fem dom, mind break, nipple play, blindfold, restrained, free use, biting, breeding, implied prostitution 

"Today only!" A voice blared from somewhere in the darkness. "Find out why the top hero's cock is number one!" 

Excited giggles burst through the air, Enji's head spinning as he tried to orient himself. He was blindfolded, arms bound behind his back in some kind of chair, legs open and immobile. Cold air made gooseflesh rise on his skin, a key indicator his clothes had been taken. Worst of all, he was rock hard.

He could feel his erect member standing at attention, waving and twitching like a demented balloon at a used car lot. He was so hard it hurt, the sensitive skin around his cock throbbing with need, hating the cold and seeking warmth. 

Enji struggled against his restraints but they were too tight, oddly strong for being simple rope. No matter, his quirk would burn it away but… no fire came when he called. Cold dread began to pool in his stomach. Something was very wrong. 

He opened his mouth to speak and found himself gasping as ice cold fluid was poured over his length. A delicate, soft hand stroked him, spreading the fluid around. Wait. He knew the sensation, the viscosity of it. Lube. He'd used the same kind with Rei. 

"Wai–" Enji choked on his words as his length was enveloped in a fever hot cunt. All of his self control evaporated as he bucked up, his body instinctively trying to bury himself inside the woman who'd mounted him. Every muscle in his body flexed as if his whole body was desperate for more. Enji ground his teeth, tried to regain some control but his brain was melting into mush. He couldn’t even focus his vision enough to see who was mounting him.  

"Hold still," she snapped. "Dildos don't move, they get used. Am I understood?" 

No, because what the hell was going on and no because—dildo? Had she really just called him a dildo? Enji was the number one pro hero. He wasn't a dildo for some stranger! 

He pulled on his restraints again and still they wouldn’t budge. Maybe he could break the chair then—

Suddenly the cavern of the woman’s cunt shrunk, sucking Enji with a force that had his eyes rolling back. What the hell? What the—

He came clamped in the vice grip this stranger had him in, shooting his load deep into her dark depths. 

She stilled. "Did you really just cum?” He could hear her smile as she laughed, mocking and cruel, all teeth. She grabbed his face, the tips of her manicure cutting into his skin. “How pathetic. You sure are the number one, aren't you?" 

Several other women joined in the chorus of her laugh. She wasn’t alone. That ice cold dread in his stomach deepened. Just how many of them were there that wanted to use him? And why him? 

Enji was the furthest from the type of men these women wanted. He was enormous, dense muscle. Heroes like Hawks were the most popular amongst women's demographics. He was lean, handsome, and young. Enji’s prime had reached it's peak, decline coming faster than he'd like. The, few, women in his fan clubs liked him for his domineering demeanor and physique. What could he possibly offer these women?

Even if those few women had gathered together to use him, he had no experience being ridden like this. He did the work getting all four of his kids into Rei, pinning her down and fucking her so hard she had to bit through her lip. 

He noticed then the one mounting him hadn’t released him. Enji's cockhead was still pressed firmly against her cervix. The woman rocked her hips, her sticky cunt squelching loudly as she worked him. Electric pleasure buzzed against Enji’s skin, nearly overwhelming him. It had been so long since his cock felt this good. After he got his heir, there was no more use in fucking Rei. It had been years. 

Just this felt amazing. Enji’s whole body heated as he leaned into pleasure, chest heaving to breathe through the intensity of just having his cock teased. This woman was almost too tight, her squeezes so intense his head swam. 

He couldn’t help wondering what he looked like, bound to a chair, vulnerable for use as a stranger rode him. 

Enji couldn't see it, but he could feel the line of women, their legs shifting as excitement grew in the abyss of their core. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of sick publicity stunt his agency was putting on without him knowing? It wouldn’t be the first time they’d pulled a surprise on him but nothing so intimate, or if he was being honest, illegal.

Just as suddenly as Enji felt he'd almost understood the situation, that same manicured hand cupped his balls, and his thoughts were gone. 

"What big balls you have. I heard a rumor you're a breeder, Mr. Endeavor, and from the size of these babies, I'm starting to think that's true." She rubbed the pad of her thumb in the bulbous, swollen curve of his sack. Sharp pleasure locked his muscles, veins practically bursting against his skin. Enji couldn't help groaning, his mouth open wide to gulp air. 

Just that one, little touch nearly had him cumming again. It was a miracle he'd managed to hold himself back from another embarrassingly short ejaculation. 

"You're just a breeding bull aren't you, Mr. Endeavor?" The gummy walls of the woman's cunt contracted, gripping Enji's cock in vice grip that had him bucking. She was milking him with expert care. He was so sensitive right now it was insane! Rei had never managed to rile him up like this. The woman rocked her hips with a core tightening squelch. "I bet that's all you're good for. A breeding dildo for your mistress." 

Enji opened his mouth to argue but all he could do was groan as that delicate hand squeezed his swollen sack in time with her rocking hips. His eyes rolled back. His end was coming, the need to cum balancing on a knife’s edge. He was going to cum again. Fuck.  

"Stop hogging him!" A voice cried out. "The rest of us want a turn!" 

A murmur of agreement followed. 

Just how many people were in line to ride him? The thought sent a jolt of fear down Enji's spine. And if he were being honest, that was what made him tip over the edge again. Electric pleasure frazzled his nerves as his cock burst deep into the woman’s heat. His whole body jolted, trying to shove his cock further in. The urge to groan, to lean into this glorious torture overwhelmed him. 

He could practically hear the crowd around him praising him, insulting him for being so pathetic. 

The woman on his lap laughed. “He’s twitching,” she gasped between chuckles. 

“Oh my God,” another woman chimed, “he’s a pervert.” 

Joyous laughter erupted around him, all sides of his narrow world engulfed by their mockery. 

Heat colored his cheeks, flushing all the way down his chest. 

In his whole life he’d never felt so humiliated, not even when he lost again and again to All Might in the hero rankings. For all he knew these women weren’t even powerful enough to take him on in a fight. Yet they were dominating him, using him as a fucking dildo. 

He needed out of here. Now. 

The woman on his lap pulled herself free, his seed gushing down his half-chubbed cock, still warm from her pussy. 

“Who’s next?”

Enji waited, unable to see who approached him. Goosebumps rose along his skin, anticipating who would touch him next. 

A small palm of warmth cut through the cold air, feeling his chest. Another joined it, two tiny hands squeezing his pecs, massaging his relaxed muscles down to his nipples. He opened his mouth to bark an order, to stop touching him like a girl but the woman clamped her fingers down and that bark became a whine so high he choked on it. She paid him no heed, her hot breath on his skin the only warning he got before her mouth was around his nipple. 

Enji had done that for Rei before but never had he imagined what it would feel like to have his own nipples stimulated. The strangeness of it confounded him. There was pleasure there, yes, it was just so different from what he was used. His cock twitched as if jealous and as if sensing this, the woman lowered herself to sit on his shaft. 

Holy shit she was wet. 

For a moment his mind broke, nipples swelling from abuse as the woman humped his cock in time with her stimulations. 

She kept moving, the sloppy sound of her soaked cunt so loud and needy. She didn’t stop until his was fully hard again, and even then, only took a break to suck his other nipple. 

Just when Enji thought he couldn’t take it anymore, she released his nipples to grab his dick, lining herself up to sink down as far as she could take him. If the woman before was almost too tight this woman was absolutely too much. Her heat squeezed him tighter than a vice. She moaned, stretching around him, her arousal gushing down his length. 

Those tiny hands of her felt up his abs, breathing hard as she squeezed and stroked each individual bulge in his skin, going as far as to trace the veins pressing up. When she was satisfied with touching him, feeling him, she grabbed his waist and rode him. 

The woman before was rough, and this one was gentle, taking him in only as far as an inch or two for her own pleasure. High breathy gasps escaped her each time he felt his cock head brush the soft, spongy top of her pussy. 

While pleasure didn’t overwhelm him this time, Enji found himself almost annoyed that she could only take that little of him. If he was untied he could bully his cock in to the hilt. For a moment, Enji forgot where he was and what was happening to him. He could image how easy it would be to fuck her properly, one of his huge hands wrapped around her waist to keep her in position for every rough thrust of his cock. He almost wanted it, that is until he felt her teeth in the skin of his pecs, biting so hard she’d leave bruises. 

His cock throbbed, a sudden, disastrous need to cum overtaking him. 

His hips rocked, aching for more, freezing without the heated embrace of a cunt. 

In response, the woman bit him again, lower near the top of his abdomen. 

Of course he’d been bitten before by villains desperate to escape, but never in the throws of pleasure, and fuck it felt amazing. It hurt so good that Enji wanted more. No, he needed to snap out of it, these women were using him, treating him like an object. His cock throbbed.

The woman stopped moving suddenly, breathing hard. She moved closer, pressing her body flush to his, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. In a voice so pathetic and needy that still managed to turned him on so much she said, “Please, cum for me Mr. Endeavor.”

She lowered herself roughly this time, riding him harder. She dissolved into a mess right on his lap, begging him to breed her to cum inside to fill her up. The heat of her breath on his skin, her impossibly tight cunt fighting to take another inch with each thrust. It was too much. Enji’s head spun. He groaned as he came, shooting his load straight inside of her. She followed after, squeezing him so tightly it hurt. She rode him through their orgasms, her breathing slowing until she couldn’t move anymore. 

Someone came and pulled her off, giving Enji no time between women before a new cunt ate his cock to the hilt. He was too sensitive, the pleasure painful. He grunted, trying to pull away as much as he could. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. Unable to see, only feel. 

He tried to hold onto his mind, think through the pressure but he was one man against a tsunami. It was too much to keep a hold of himself. Enji crumbled under the weight of their desire. 

Something broke inside of him. 

Any desire to preserve himself vanished, the painful pleasure so big he wanted it. He embraced it, let it drown him and he wanted more. 

Enji rocked his hips up into the woman, meeting her thrusts with his own, the wet slapping of their joining much louder than the ones who came before. 

Women laughed at him, teasing him for how easily he broke but Enji just couldn't care, not when he felt this good when his dick was swallowed by heat and his body was touched in a way he'd never experienced before. 

Each experience blended together or maybe the line dissolved. Enji felt hands all over his body, squeezing his pecs, his abs, his ass, his balls. The rhythm of pleasure engulfing his dick infinite and perfect. 

Someone stuck their finger in his mouth and without needing instruction, he sucked. Teeth bit at his ears, bruised his biceps, twisted his nipples. 

If Hell was paradise, he was home. 

There was no beginning or end to the train of pleasure running him down, each cunt the same pocket he’d do anything to break around his cock. He lavished in praise when he received it, feeling the residue of lipstick on his skin. He rejoiced at the meaner ones, scratching his sensitive skin with manicured nails. He relished bullying the shyer ones, taking control with just the force of his hips. 

At some point the line ended, or maybe Enji passed out. His head was spinning and his body was feverish. He was an edge away from closing his eyes, his mind black and blank. He could barely care about the cold evening air pressing in on him. 

Warm hands reached behind Enji’s head, untying the blindfold that had been on his face since he’d woken up. Enji was too exhausted to care that he could see, his vision swimming in and out of focus. That same warm hand cupped his jaw, forcing his face up to meet eyes as blue as his own. 

Dabi smiled down at Enji, sunset colors lighting the staples in his face aflame. “Hope you had fun, dad, because you’re doing it all again tomorrow.” He smacked Enji’s face with a wad of cash and that was the final blow he needed to sleep.

[6zk]

clark kent + fucking you in a headlock.

he’s hardly a fan of being rough with you, but clark can’t deny himself the pleasure of you like this. ass up, back arched away from his front as his bulging bicep keeps your head locked nice and close.

every time he tightens his grip on you, you tighten around his cock in turn. messy fucking girl, he thinks, drooling all over his arm and probably not even realising it—he wonders if you’d milk him for all he’s worth like this, or if you’d pull at his iron grip and beg for some sort of reprieve from his caging body as you come.

he loves you. how you feel taking his cock so deep like this, he’s bucking up into you with that seemingly endless stamina of his, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs and making you sputter these gorgeous ramblings of ‘more’ and ‘please’ and oh? have you finally found your manners?

and the closer he gets to orgasm, the tighter his headlock becomes, until you’re genuinely gasping for breath and stars are teeming in your peripheral vision and you’re coming so hard that you’re falling in love with clark all over again just for the fun of it.

and because he’s a man that, for better or worse, pushes himself past his limits, more often than not he’ll ignore your signs of overstimulation to instead snake his free arm around your front to rub lovely little circles over your clit. you can come once more for him, can’t you baby? ‘s not like you can run from his ministrations anyways, each time you buck forward you’re only pushing your face firmer against his corded arms.

[pvssylibary]

Fucking Toji while Toxic!husband naoya secretly watches, 18+ mdni.

Naoya was a globally known asshole, it was never a secret or something you didn't know but in the beginning your relationship you had a bit of hope— he was decent, had good looks with an extremely big ego but you found it somewhat endearing in a way

A lot of people could argue that you just had a questionable taste in men..in which you couldn't actually deny, especially after saying yes to his proposal just after finding out he cheated and fucked one of his servants a week prior

Yes, it was stupid but you were naive in love and you could blame it on being young with your frontal lobe not being fully developed

Now, a year into marriage with him, nothing necessarily has gotten better, it was worse actually— he'd cheat, you'd confront him, he'd say sorry and fuck you as if it made what he did any better, you wouldn't cum, and a week later the cycle would just restart.

But you didn't think you'd end up here, don't even fully remember what led up to these current events, only remembering the man introduced himself as 'toji'.

Maybe it was the few shots you had at the bar mixed with the pent up sexual frustration you were dealing with lately, but your panties were dampening the second his scarred lip curled into a smirk, the way his eyes openly undressed you while his words promised he could show you what a real man was like

You couldn't lie and say you tried to resist because you didn't, you allowed the big hunk of a man lead you out of the bar and to his car, driving you home and from the moment you unlocked the door to the house it was on.

Hands all over each other, clothes constantly shedding and before you knew it, you were laid out in a prone bone position on your couch with toji's arm around your neck in a headlock while he brutally fucked away every train of thought

"ngh~ f-fuck, s'too much", you manage to slur out in a sob, your words only being met with the sound of the constant sound of skin slapping against skin

His hips hitting against your ass with every ruthless thrust against your cervix, the pleasure so intense that it made white flash in your vision and nearly boarded on pain

"this- this is how you should be fucked", he punctuates with a particular hard thrust that had you gasping out and grasping for a lifeline

"sorry my wimpy ass cousin hasn't been taking care of this pussy, shit- but at least there's more for me", he panted out, using his arm around your neck as leverage to tilt your head back a bit to crash his lips against yours In a sloppy kiss

What you two didn't know, was that the same wimp was just around the corner, Peeking at the scene from the hallway with soft pants leaving his lips as he stroked his cock desperately at the sight

He knew that this was pathetic, that this was below him but when he heard commotion and was about to complain about the noise he didn't expect to see you —his wife— being absolutely ravaged by his own cousin.

The way you looked so utterly lost in pleasure and the way Toji seemed to fuck out incoherent babbles from your lips, it was more arousing than he'd ever admit in his life

But he still couldn't resist

The tip of his cock flushed an angry red and leaking precum, having to bite down on his bottom lip to keep quiet and not give away his position as his hand stroked up and down his length eagerly.

"t-toji! Gonna cum-", your cry sounded out from the living room, groaning out shakily and trembling as you came hard around toji's cock, you felt lightheaded from the pure force of which you came—

Your own husband also cumming and spilling into his fist while Toji continues fucking into you before pulling out to cum on your ass.

As naoya slowly came down from the high he just experienced, reality came crushing down on him all at once, in more ways than one but the most crushing one was the one that had him questioning himself—

Was he a cuck just now?

All rights reserved ©Pvssylibary. Do not repost, copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my work.

Inspired by @blkkizzat's work here btw!! Check her out, she's lovely 🤍

[tojipie]

toji loves making his crybaby gf feel good ^3^

content: smut, prone bone, headlock, sweet talking, hurt/comfort, sensitive/anxious reader

toji's nervous system hot-wires itself into overdrive the moment he hears you sniffle in the other room.

you’d had a small scuff up at work, nothing too severe. your had boss let you off scot free with a simple warning, but the fact that it’d even happened had been more than enough to sour your mood for the day.

the world was tough on a sweet thing like you. too harsh for a heart held together by the softest thread. toji always made sure to remind you of that.

he takes your head in his hands, thumbs running over the damp apples of your cheeks to calm you down.

“you wanna talk about it, or do you want a distraction, baby?”

you hiccup, pressing your palms over both eyes like it’ll keep your frustration at bay.

“i just wanna forget about today.” you sigh.

“i can help with that.” he promises.

˚ ✧ -

“come on out of there baby, you can do it.” toji taps two fingers against your temple, as if to coax you out of your own brain. “just feel good with me. don’t have to think about anything else.”

he takes you prone bone on days like these. stomach flush to the mattress while you pant, and writhe, and sink your nails into the headboard while he grunts out every single thing he adores about you.

“pretty little thing. such a sweet girl” he purrs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like an overgrown house cat. “could fuck you forever.” you shy away from the affection, burying your face in the pillow to hide the embarrassing moan that escapes your lips.

“aww, that won’t do, will it?” he jokes, slipping the crook of his arm under your chin to keep your head locked in place, sending you right over the edge and into an orgasm that startles you both.

you couldn’t do much of anything right now even if you tried. not with how deep he’s hitting inside of you. your brain feels fried, sizzling around the edges like an egg in a pan.

not only that but you feel your heartbeat everywhere. in your chest, between your legs, your fingertips.

hell, you don’t even remember what you were upset about anymore.

call it a side effect of his heavenly restriction, maybe some rare sixth sense he only really uses on you. either way, he knows you like the back of his hand. knows just where to touch you to make you forget you were even feeling down.

“show me that face, cmon.” he commands, cock rutting so deep you nearly forget what planet you’re on. “need to make sure you’re okay.”

you’re more than okay. in fact, you’d let him fuck you like this for the rest of your life if you could.

“feels amazing.” you sigh happily.

“yeah? still having a bad day?” the softness in his tone is so painstakingly real. toji wants to know that he’s doing this right. more importantly, he wants your real answer. he’ll make you feel as good as humanly possible until the hurt from earlier is the furthest thing from your mind.

you shake your head. accepting the sloppy kiss he presses to the corner of your mouth. the arm once curled around your face sits idle by your hip, fingers tracing mindless patterns into your skin.

“i’m having an amazing day now, actually.” you admit shyly, still high on endorphins and affection.

“wanna keep going?”

[remember-to-be-gentle]

How many asks do you have?

18. Not including asks/requests I've started to answer but never finished.

Actually this is wrong. Every time I open Tumblr the number is different. It might actually be 72.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Thank you for answering my ask, it sounds like you had a trying year and I can definitely appreciate that it feels like it's hard to move forward when you're trying your best but you're not progressing as much as you'd like.

I'm glad that you've gotten into a second book draft, haunted houses are fun and that you've gotten a kitty!!! 🐈

Thank you!!!! Please have a picture of kitty staring at me while I try to get her to use the litter box (not pictured).

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Now that Dabi is dead in canon, will you write a story where the reader gets the upper hand and ends his sorry ass?

I just finished the anime today.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

How are you getting on with your book?

Accidentally turned your ask into a life update.

It could be better 😅. I finished the second draft earlier this year and spent April to November querying with 0 interest. While waiting for that disappointment to roll in I started working on a new novel draft that was pretty fun, but right now I'm kinda stagnating on it and toying with the idea of a haunted house.

I joined a querying discord and got some feedback on how I'll be working on the third draft in the distant future.

I did try to work on some smut to post but being horny is such a struggle with my antidepressants. I've gone through three different medications trying to even get a little interest in pleasure. Also transitioning off antidepressants is hell. Went to the ER twice this year because of my intense nausea and even had to leave work early.

While I'm on the subject of medicine, remember that ankle injury from like two years ago? I had surgery to try and reduce some of the pain I was experiencing and it's helped a bit but this turned out to be the wrong time of year for it because the cold is terrible for the joint.

The good news this year though is that I stole a cat and she's a sweetie pie, until she decides to be a brat.

[rockstar-vamp]

[greedysadistdad]

Respectfully, I want to love you in front of people who didn't. I want them to see how much you glow when you're treated right.

[lavendervirgos]

You attract what you fear?

Well then, no please don't pin my wrists above my head and whisper all the fucked up things you want to do to me in my ear while your bodyweight on top of me prevents me from moving and you kiss and bite my neck.

[brandyrobbinsblog]

[bogactivity]

Jjk flight attendants

[bogactivity]

Hope yall like what’s served for dinner tonight

[rotworld]

3: Cupid's Arrow

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

a godling of desire leaves you with divine shrapnel lodged in your chest. if you want to get it out, you'd better ask nicely.

->explicit. contains non-con, gore, implied gun violence, mind control, obsessive behavior. also on ao3.

.

.

.

Someone saw him at the Lyre’s Club this morning. He came in for brunch with another godling. Younger, that one, with a lightning halo and storm clouds for hair, and furious. They got into it over something and all that divine rage set a couple’s eyes on fire two tables over, made them trickle out of the singed sockets in rivers of shiny vitreous sludge; their fault for staring. Got the French toast with blueberries and ambrosia mascarpone, so rich and sweet it’d rot a mortal’s teeth right in their mouth. The waiter who served that table remembers because there was a fight over who got to bring out the food. 

“I won,” he tells you, sheepish. There’s blood under his nails and the manager isn’t in right now. “Have you tried Gallery Elyse?”

You try Gallery Elyse. Never heard of it before, didn’t even know it was there in that upscale part of downtown by the designer boutique and jewelry stores, but it’s easy enough to find with the neo-Athenian pottery displayed in the front window. The receptionist is trying desperately, futilely, to look like she didn’t just get fucked within an inch of her life over the counter she’s still hunched over. Her lipstick is smeared, her lips are kiss-swollen, and her hands shake while she struggles to button up her blouse, but she still won’t let you through. “In those shoes?” she asks, grimacing like you’ve tracked reeking garbage across the polished wood floor. Yes, he was there, but no, he’s not anymore. Breezed through to buy a piece he’d been eyeing and took off again. No, she doesn’t know where he went and she looks offended you’d even ask but somebody in the gallery overhears and comes over to see what the fuss is about. 

“He went to Cloud and Cuckoo. Probably still there, knowing him.” 

Except he’s not. Just missed him, apparently, because you stumble into the mess he left behind instead: a man, delirious, collapsed against a wall and surrounded by paramedics. He’s bleeding red-gold, blood and aphrodisia, from a bullet wound in the chest right over his heart. He’ll live but he’s about to have the most intense and miserable erection of his life. They’re trying to find his wallet to call his family. He’s married; they’ll move him to the back, blindfold him until his partner can get there to keep things simple. 

A bartender steers you back outside. “We’ve gotta close early,” he says. 

“I’m trying to find Amour,” you tell him.

He looks sorry for you. “That’s a bad idea.” 

“Do you know where he is or where he might’ve gone?” 

“No.” He tries to close the door in your face but you don’t let him. 

“He shot me,” you say, a hand pressed over your chest. “It’s stuck in the wrong spot. It’s not going away.” 

“That makes no fucking sense.” 

Blood oozes from the wound and stains your shirt. The bartender’s eyes flick down and then back up to your face, his frown deepening. “Please,” you say.

He takes a deep breath. “Lotus Eater. But you really shouldn’t go. You know that, right? You know what he’s like? Have you tried everything else? Have you—”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re gone, walking as fast as you can in constant agony, the pain rippling out in needle-pulses every time your heart beats.

The bouncer at Lotus Eater doesn’t want to let you in, either, until you tug at the hem of your shirt and rip aside the gauze and bandages to show him. Three days after it happened, the wound looks grisly. Infected, probably, raw and soft at the edges, weeping pus and pinkish blood. The aphrodisia has turned a muddy bile color. The bullet is small, squeezed between two ribs and nestled in soft tissue. It’s on the wrong side; too far to the right to hit your heart. You feel it sometimes brushing against one lung.

“What the fuck,” the bouncer says.

“He’s here, right? Can I see him?” you ask, desperation edging your voice.

“You sure it was him? Blonde guy, kinda twiggy?” You must look like you’re about to do something stupid because he shrugs his shoulders and steps aside. “Party room in the back,” is all he tells you. You’re not his problem anymore. If a godling doesn’t want to see you, he won’t need to get involved. There won’t be anything left of you to throw out of the club.

Lotus Eater has the lush, ritzy glamor of an expensive cocktail lounge. The decor is wood and leather instead of neon and plastic, the lighting dim and seductive. There’s a sweet, earthy musk thick in the air from the vines that thread along the walls and dangle their heavy, flowering tendrils over tables. Each colorful blossom bears fresh fruit that is always ripe, always tempting with its glossy shine and soft, juicy flesh. 

The party room is past a curtain, down a dark, eerily quiet hallway, through a door left half-open as though you’re expected. You see a crystal chandelier; mirrors, dozens of mirrors on every wall, each in an ornate golden frame; plush armchairs and a red velvet sofa curled around a coffee table, and him. The bouncer is out of his fucking mind if he thinks you could mix him up with anyone else. That’s the exact same face you saw that day, deceptively sweet and eternally youthful with big eyes red like desire, long lashes and freckles. Those are the same flawless, flaxen curls. That’s the same dizzying contrast of cherubic features and grungy glamour, heavy eyeliner and spiked ear piercings, the teasing glimpse of intricate ink peeking out beneath his leather jacket.

On the coffee table in front of him, there’s a condensation-slicked glass of something honey-colored and a brass revolver. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. He’s looking at you. This is a godling who likes subtlety, not one who flaunts his power and divinity, and you still feel like a mouse caught under a cat’s claw from nothing but the weight of his stare. His full, pretty lips are drawn into a pout. 

“Not going to say ‘hello?’” Amour drawls.

Oh. You’re fucked. Just five words and you feel all the blood in your body rushing between your legs. He talks in a husky murmur like he wants you closer, eyes darting up and down with interest. The words are weak and brittle, caught in your throat, but you force them out. “You shot me.” 

“Did I?” he says.

He’s fucking with you. He has to be. There’s no way he doesn’t remember. “Three days ago, right outside a cafe. You missed my heart.” 

He laughs. “I don’t miss.”

You tug at your shirt to show him. Gold-speckled blood slicks your fingers. “Well, you did. It’s stuck and it’s killing me. You’re the only one who can get it out safely.” 

He smiles and the sight steals your breath. “Come here,” he says. “Sit down.” 

Nothing good comes of asking godlings for favors, but you don’t have a choice. You approach reluctantly, eyeing the other chairs, the couch, trying to decide the safest option. Amour watches your indecision with unabashed amusement. 

“No. Here,” he says, patting his thigh. You hesitate. “Or don’t.” He shrugs. “Die of sepsis, if you really want.” 

Your face heats with anger and humiliation. “That’s not fair.” 

“That’s how it is, sweetheart. I can get the bullet out but it’s a delicate operation, not something I can do across a table.” He spreads his legs wider as if you might be enticed, smiling invitingly. You just want this to be over so you swallow your pride and go to him, hesitating once you’re in arm’s reach. Amour pulls you down, not onto one leg but into his lap, straddling him. “There we are. Isn’t that better?” he coos. You’re embarrassed by how hard the words hit you, the condescending praise making your pulse pick up. “Let me get a look at you. Shirt off.” 

“Off?” you echo warily. He’s already pulling at it, eager to get you half-undressed. The cool air makes you shiver but he doesn’t let you cover yourself, tugging your arms out of the way. His thumb brushes the ragged edge of the wound, prodding gently, then pushing, then slipping inside—

You slap a hand over your mouth but it’s too late. You know he heard that soft, shaky moan. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. It’s a bullet wound. It hurts. Why did it feel good?

“That’s normal, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, it’s in there pretty deep. We need to be careful.” He strokes your thigh. “Alright, everything else off now.” This is a step too far. You stop him this time when he tries getting the last of your clothes off, pushing his hands away. He lets you do it with a fond, exasperated smile like you’re being unreasonable. “You want it out? This is how we get it out. The bullets are designed to break down, given the proper stimulus.”

“Why did you do this to me?” you ask.

Amour hooks his fingers beneath your chin. There’s something dangerous about his eyes. He’s hiding his divinity under layers upon layers of glamour but his eyes are undisguised, alluring and hypnotic. You feel your resolve weakening, cracks forming in your vehement refusal to go along with his whims, and it scares you. “Why do you think?” he asks. Godlings are fickle. It could be for any reason among millions. It could be for no reason at all. He watches you try to puzzle it out, struggling to think straight with a fog of lust clouding your mind. “See if you can figure it out.”

You don’t fight as hard as you should when he pulls at your clothes again. Something’s different about the pain in your chest. There’s heat there, a tingling sensation spreading slowly across your skin. Amour never breaks your gaze and it gets hard to remember where you are or why. He strokes your cheek, presses against your lower lip with his thumb. He smiles when you let him in, let him press against your tongue, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. Everything snaps back into focus when you feel an intrusion, unrelenting pressure against your entrance. 

“Some mortals are uniquely resistant to the divine,” he muses. “I’ve never thought about it much. There are so many of you. Why worry about an unfortunate handful when all the rest yield to me easily? I’m used to getting what I want.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re barely paying attention, more concerned with the thick, throbbing cock trying to push past your clenched muscles. Amour touches you like he’s known you forever, drawn instinctively to your weak spots. His hands roam your body with unhurried lust, caressing, fondling, smoothing over your shoulders and down your sides. He has you pliant and leaning into him before long, grabbing your hips and guiding you into a leisurely grind against him. Every movement makes you slip a little further into that mind-numbing heat. Small, embarrassed jolts of your hips turn to desperate humping, needing the pleasant friction of his sex against yours. He’s big, pierced along the underside. The precum oozing down his length is liquid gold; aphrodisia, you’re sure of it, just like his bullets. He answers your gasps and whimpers with soft, encouraging hums, his hands on your hips to keep you moving. 

“Like that,” he murmurs. “Keep going, baby.” 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t stop your hips. Everything about Amour drives you wild from his low reassurances and constant touch to how calm he is, how slow and steady no matter how needy you get. You feel like an animal, hollowed of everything but instinct and voracious need. 

“That’s right. You are,” Amour coos. He drags his fingertips up your abdomen, up your chest, slowing the closer he gets to the wound. It makes you whimper and grind on him harder. “Mhm. That’s you. A brainless little beast, like every mortal who loses themselves to lust. A rutting animal. Feels good, doesn’t it? You like being in heat?”

Your answer is a whine, a moan-turned-sob, as you go hurtling over the edge. You cum hard and Amour praises you for it, saying you’re good, so good, so perfect. He reaches between your legs and sends you spiraling into blistering overstimulation with mercilessly quick strokes, his talented fingers working you past pleasure into pain and back again. You’re still struggling to breathe when you feel him shift your weight in his lap, lifting you easily. His cock is slicked with your pleasure. This time, there’s no resistance. He sinks in deep in one slow movement and you collapse against him, trembling. You just came and you think you might again. He doesn’t let you rest.

“We’ve met before. Do you remember?” he asks. He sounds so calm, not even winded when he plants his feet on the floor and starts fucking you as hard as he can. He wraps his hands around your sides and uses you, brings you up and down in time with his thrusts. 

There’s no way everyone in Lotus Eater doesn’t hear your unrestrained moans and wails but you don’t think about that. You can’t. Amour doesn’t let you. He brings you down on his cock and slams into you, holding you there, making you writhe and scrape your nails down his chest. You beg without words, reduced to pitiful whines and whimpers. He tilts his head back and his eyes flutter shut, basking in your total surrender. 

“No. I know you don’t. But it’s true, we met before I shot you. You bumped into me in a crowd. You should’ve fallen head over heels but you just apologized and kept walking. I couldn’t believe it.” 

Would you have remembered if he wasn’t fucking your brains out? It doesn’t matter now. You ride Amour even when he stops making you, matching his merciless pace. You need him more than anything. He smooths his palms over your body, slow and worshipful, nothing like the way he drives into you hard and fast. He drinks in the sight of you with awe. 

“It turns out some of you are just like that. Immune, somehow. You’re afraid of us because you should be but you don’t fall to your knees just because we ask. We might as well be mortal, the way you treat us. It never mattered to me before, but you….”

The slightest strain enters his voice, your only warning that he’s about to cum. Amour wraps his arms around you and keeps you close, keeps you still, as he loses his perfect composure. His moans are breathy and choked. All you know is the slap of skin on skin and grasping hands and the heat all around and inside you, the breath warming your ear in a low groan as he fills you. Your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head, and then you know nothing. Amour lets out a long, satisfied sigh and sags against the armchair, running a hand up and down your back. He stays buried inside you, still hard, still cumming for a long time. It overflows, sticky warmth sliding slowly down your inner thighs, and there’s still more. You make a pitiful, broken noise when he reaches between you, his fingers slipping into the wound. Maybe you’re delirious, so overstimulated you’re starting to go numb, or maybe something’s changed again, but it’s numb. You feel dull pressure, strange tingling, and little else as his fingers prod beneath your skin.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m a sore loser,” he says, laughing breathlessly. There’s a tugging sensation, a slow drag against your insides. His hand comes out bloody red and burnt gold, a soft, half-melted bullet pinched between his thumb and index finger. “I’m used to getting what I want, and I want you. If I have to give you aphrodisia poisoning to do it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Something shifts inside of you. The heat starts to fade and fatigue sets in along with a sense of profound violation. You push yourself upright, ignoring the new ache in your lower body. Amour sighs in disappointment.

“You’re fine, don’t panic. It’s out of your system now. These aren’t permanent.” He crushes the bullet in his palm and it turns to glittering dust. “If the love isn’t real, it won’t linger,” he says quietly. He’s looking at you again. Unlike before, you don’t feel anything. No heat. No desire. You peel yourself away from him, wincing at the sticky sensation between your legs. You collect your clothes in tense silence. Amour doesn’t stop you but you feel him staring, his gaze burning into your back. 

“Am I free to go?” you ask. You have to make sure. Godlings love tricks and debts. But Amour is quiet when you look at him, frowning deeply. His disappointment is obvious. Did he really think he could do this and you’d beg to stay? He tucks his softening cock back into his jeans and leans against one armrest, glaring at the wall. Sulking, you think. 

“Go,” he mutters. So you do. You don’t look back.

You get all the way to the door before you hear a metallic clatter, a rattle, then the soft click-click-click of a revolver chamber turning.

[stormcallart]

Missed drawing Enji!