‧₊˚── 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟓: 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎
‧₊˚── 𝐃𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐬!𝐊𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 - 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦
Word Count: 2.3k Content/Warnings: top!deimos, bottom!reader, dom!deimos if you squint, sub!reader if you squint, gn! reader (no pronouns used), reader has female anatomy, sex work/prostitution (reader is a pornai in ancient greece), orgy, dub!con b/c deimos is terrifying and because of the nature of reader's job A/N: surprise, surprise... the deimos fic is my longest kinktober fic yet. also- this is like... a dash of exhibitionism in the midst of a whole lotta me just thirsting over deimos, to be honest. sorry not sorry. also also; deimos is evil! let's not forget! this fic is morally grey because i like evil women. sorry not sorry AGAIN!
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
Your hands are far too shaky as you tilt the jug of wine over the cup below it.
You had been hoping to dodge this cup tonight, but considering your luck, you figured this moment was inevitable.
Still, that doesn't make you any less terrified.
Not of the cup, of course.
The cup's owner, on the other hand? You're afraid you'll piss yourself before you can finish pouring her a drink.
You've only ever heard stories of her- golden armor glinting and covered in the blood of those who dare defy her. Body littered with scars of battles that should have been her end. Stare hardened, expressions hollow, eyes dead.
She's devoid of a soul, some say.
But her wine needed refilling, and you were the only one left to do it.
The rest of the pornai- tonight's entertainment- were otherwise… occupied. You had been warned of the debauchery that would surround you as soon as the hour grew late, but you're jarred just the same.
It's all a bit much, really; grunts coming from your left, moans coming from your right, and the cup's owner straight ahead, staring you down as you knock it over.
A sharp gasp rips through you, your eyes wide in horror as you scramble to place the amphora down and pick up her now-empty cup. You spew apologies, keep your head down, and try to blink away hot tears before they fall.
You're in the middle of yet another, "I'm sorry," when,
"You're pretty."
Your eyes shoot up before you can help it, and now, you're face-to-face with Deimos. The Cult of Kosmos's very own living weapon, lounging on the sofa in front of you, appraising you with a lazy grin. One arm rests against the back of the sofa, her head nestled against her knuckles.
You don't have time to find your words before she continues with more of her own.
"You're lucky for that, too," she continues, leaning forward to pluck a berry from the bowl on the low table you're kneeling in front of. "Otherwise, I'd be very angry that you just wasted my drink."
She speaks playfully, but you know she once had a servant's tongue cut from his mouth for daring to steal a cup of her favorite wine.
This woman angers easily, and when she is angered, she is violent.
But you didn't expect her to be so beautiful.
"I-I know," you stutter. "I really am sorry. Terribly so. Allow me to-"
"You're new, too?"
She interjects again with her observation.
"I am, yes," you confirm with a shy nod. "I apologize that it's so obvious."
"It is," she blunty states.
And then, she holds out a hand, suspiciously inviting.
"Stand up. Come 'round."
Your own hand still shakes as you place it in hers, eyes glued to her in apprehension as you slowly rise and make your way around the table.
"Sit," she commands.
You make a move to take the place beside her- but, then, she's shaking her head with a devious smirk.
"Mm-mm," she hums.
She spreads her legs and pats a strong thigh.
"Right here."
You freeze for just a moment, but gather yourself and sink down onto her lap just as quickly as you remember that Deimos's orders are to be followed without hesitation.
Your knees shift on the cushion beneath them, your hands tentatively finding purchase on her shoulders.
"…Like this?" you whisper.
"Like this," she nods. "Very good."
At first, you reckon that it's the initmacy of this position that makes you feel as if all eyes in the room are on you; but when you steal a quick scan of your surroundings, you find that tonight's guests are eager to see who Deimos has deemed worthy of her attention.
"You're tense," she notes.
"I'm sorry," you quickly reply.
"Do you always apologize this much?"
The question catches you off guard. You aren't really sure how to answer, so you're relieved when she speaks before you have the chance to.
"Don't apologize again. If it's the spilled wine you're worried about, know that you're about to make up for it."
A chill runs down your spine.
"Are you afraid?" She tilts her head.
You exhale shakily. "I don't know."
A playful smile tugs at her lips as her hazel eyes scan your face. You're not sure where people got the idea that Deimos's eyes are dead.
In them, you see only fire. Raging and wild.
"Are you afraid of me?" She probes.
You aren't sure whether or not she wants honesty. She's known to be so volatile- so easy to set off- that you worry any answer you give will be the wrong one.
You dare to share that with her.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say," you shake your head, body adjusting awkwardly.
Her arms move from where they were resting on the back of the couch, her hands settling on your hips.
"I want you to tell me if you're afraid of me," she repeats.
And the gods-honest truth is…
"I know I'm supposed to be."
She quirks a brow, prompting you to continue.
"But… I don't think you're going to hurt me. I'd like to think you aren't, at least… though I know you could."
She seems pleased with that answer.
"Are you attracted to me?"
This question needs no consideration.
"Yes," you breathe.
"Good," she nods. "Can I fuck you?"
Your eyes go wide.
"Right now?"
"Not right now. I'll warm you up before I'm inside you."
You can't help but chuckle, though you know that laughing in Deimos's face is a death wish.
But, she thinks you're pretty. Her amused smile says she likes your laugh, too. Your luck is looking up tonight.
"No," you smile, "that's… not what I meant. I just mean… here?"
She scoffs and waves a hand in the air, gesturing toward the godsdamned orgy happening around you.
She's witty. Quick. And really starting to grow on you.
"Fair," you nod.
"May I, then?" She purrs.
"You needn't ask. I'm here for the taking."
Something flashes across her face. Something akin to disgust.
"I don't take my women."
That, you don't expect. Perhaps it's because she's a woman herself, that inflicting herself upon another is a line she won't cross. Still… you're surpsied. Pleasantly so.
"I'm sorr-"
She cocks her to the side. A warning. She'd told you not to apologize again.
"I'm…" you have to swallow another one. Finally, you opt for, "Yes. You can… fuck me."
You're pinned underneath her gaze for long enough that a, "please" escapes you.
The wolfish grin that stretches across her face goes straight to your core.
"Come here," she nearly growls, grabbing the back of your head with a large hand.
For a woman as privy to agression as she is, Deimos's kiss is remarkably tender. Her lips are soft, warm, slow-moving against your own. Her tongue against yours doesn't feel like an invasion, but rather, a practiced dance. Her hand in the hair at the nape of your neck doesn't pull or tug; just cradles, steady and grounding.
By the time she pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath labored, your body buzzing.
She brings a thumb up to wipe at the spit pooling on your lip, and without thinking, you suck.
Her eyes go wide as your lips wrap around the digit, your cheeks hollowing and your toungue swirling.
"You're dangerous," she chortles.
You remove her thumb from your mouth with a pop.
"Says the war weapon," you muse.
"A good tongue is far more dangerous than any blade I've wielded," she quips.
You giggle as you lean in to kiss her again. She straightens up to meet you in the middle, one hand kneading at your hip, and the other making its way underneath the fabric pooling at your thighs.
You suddenly pull away, bracing yourself with a hand against her breastplate.
"I don't know if I'm wet enou-"
"I know," she assures you. "Take your time. I just want to feel you."
You attempt to bite back a whimper.
Your attempt is rendered useless when she presses two fingers to the aching bud of nerves between your legs.
She leans back with a smirk, letting her fingers dip down into the ample slick you said wouldn't be there.
You can't help but rock into her fingers, gasping nearly every time their tips prod at your clit.
A sudden squeeze on your hip halts you.
"Are you trying to keep quiet?" Deimos asks dissaprovingly.
Your face burns. You almost apologize.
"I don't want to… make a scene."
"And I want them to know that you feel good," she suddenly jeers. "They know better than to say a word about it. Let them hear what you sound like."
It takes concious effort to let yourself go like that in this circumstance. Not because you're uncomfortable; on the contrary, in fact- you're a bit more thrilled by the prospect of people seeing that Deimos chose you than you thought you'd be. But this is still only your first symposium. She knows, that, too. It's why she's patient as you work up your rhythm again, thumb rubbing soft circles into your hip as she waits for what she knows will be music to her ears.
The grin of approval on her face when she finally hears it makes your heart wrench in a manner completely unexpected.
As the overhwhelming urge to do whatever it takes to maintain her approval takes over you, you find yourself wondering why anyone would ever bother standing against her when she makes obedience this tantilizing.
Your grip on her shoulders tightens as you rock back far enough that her fingers nearly slip into you.
"Can I?" You plead, brows knit together in pleasure.
"Take whatever you want, agapi."
You? Taking Deimos?
You'd laugh if you weren't busy sliding onto her long fingers and choking on a moan.
"There we go," she purrs. "That's it."
Your body calls all the shots for you. You prop youself up with your hands against her breastplate. Your hips roll against her, languid and filthy. Your head lulls back, your eyes flutter shut, your jaw goes slack.
And the mewls that pour from your lips?
Every head in the room turns to seek out the source of such unbridled noises. This isn't a performance- not like the other pornai are offering.
This is real, and you're so lost in it, you couldn't give a damn who bears witness.
it isn't long before you topple over, burying your head in her shoulder, too wrecked to keep up the pace you've set.
"You gonna let me help now?" She chuckles.
"Please?" You pant, wrapping your arms around her neck.
She wraps hers around your waist, holding you tight to her chest as her fingers begin to plunge in and out of you. She works slowly at first, searching for what makes you keen; and when she finds it- quick, shallow strokes with her palm grinding against your clit- she's relentless.
She's perfect.
"Oh, fuck," you whine, "right-" a gasp, "right there… please, please don't stop, please don't-"
"I'm not going anywhere," she says, her voice low.
Gods, her voice is gorgeous.
She's gorgeous.
You want to see her, you think. Need to see her.
You manage to push yourself up to face her, just enough to rest your forehead against her own as you rapidly approach your release.
"I'm gonna come," you pant, nodding against her.
"Let's see it," she smirks. "I bet it's so pretty."
You nearly fall back onto her shoulder, but her free hand grabs your jaw before you can, holding you in place.
"I said," she grits, "let us see it."
You clamp down around her fingers, eyes squeezing shut as your wanton moans finally cease. With the breath stolen from your lungs, all that manages to escape you is a squeak as you twitch uncontrollably atop her.
"Let them hear, you" she warns. "Take a breath, and let them hear you."
You frantically shake your head. "I can't," you mutter. "I-"
She sits up straight, pulling you in by your jaw.
"Take a breath," she repeats sternly, "and let. Them. Hear. You."
A loud sob of pleasure wracks through your body, and she leans back with a victorious grin, fingers still pistoning.
She's long since worked you through your orgasm when she finally relents, your coiled mucles finally relaxing. As soon as she pulls her fingers out of you, you fall against her chest, her breastplate cool against your burning cheek.
The hand covered in you stays put on your thigh, while the other traces mindless patterns on your back. She says nothing as you catch your breath- just sits and waits, far more patient than you've ever heard of her being.
When your eyes finally flutter open, you find that most of the room has cleared out.
You shoot up, eyes going wide as you realize you'd definitely fallen asleep against Greece's most feared.
"Easy," she whispers, her own eyes going wide as you jerk awake. "You alright?"
"I didn't mean to fall alseep. Was I a bother? Did I keep you from leaving?"
"No," she shakes her head, "it gave me an excuse to send the guests home. You needed the rest, and I wanted the quiet."
A small, surprised smile appears on your face.
"You didn't answer my question," she continues. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," you quickly nod. "Quite. Are you?"
Her eyes narrow for a split second.
"Do you stay in Korinth?"
Deimos, on the other hand, doesn't have to answer questions unless she wants to.
"Yes," you chuckle at her diversion.
"Have you ever been to Athens?"
You shake your head. "I haven't. I've never gotten the chance. That's where you reside, yes?"
"Where I reside?" she echoes incredulously. "It's where I rule."
You avert her gaze with a shy smile in exchange for an apology. She grabs your chin with her thumb and pointer finger, tilting your face back toward her.
She wears a warm smile now. One you didn't think was possible for a viscious warlord.
It suits her.
And she says that Athens will suit you.
──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──
Taglist: @lonerslug, @glassesnoraenjiz, @0ngeeked, @graciedollie, @lilredbird101, @rawrspacecat, @ash273819
