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propertyofwhitney67 · 2 months

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Not So Bad

M!Whitney x AFAB!Reader

TW: smut, breeding kink, lying about being on birth control, smoking

Words: 600

Note: Based on Vrel’s answer that Whitney would dislike breeding kink at first. Also this ask gave me the inspo to keep writing this.

Thank you guys so much for 400 followers!! <3

“No.” Whitney angrily answered, tired of me asking him. He took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke toward me. Despite his irritation, I could see lust in his eyes.

I waved the smoke away, “Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” I tried convincing him. I’ve been at it for a while, hoping to whittle down his resolve. “I’m on birth control.” I certainly wasn’t, but that’s part of the fun.

“Of course you are, you’re a slut.” He rolled his eyes but thought it over, “Fine.” He put his cigarette out in the ashtray on his bedside table before pushing me down on the bed and making out with me, he tasted of nicotine.

I gasped as I felt him reach under my shirt, groping my chest. “Whitney…” I mumbled against his lips.

“Shut up.” He bit my lip and pulled back, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it aside. “That’s better.” He smirked and cupped my breast, “Maybe I should breed you, you’d be hot knocked up with my kid.”

I felt my body heat up at his words, I want nothing more than to be bred by him. I whined lowly and reached for his sweatpants, “Please…” I was weak for him.

He grabbed my hands and pinned me to the bed, “Impatient slut.” I huffed, pouting like a child. “Keep that up and you get nothing.” I scrunched my nose but nodded, “Good.” He released his grip, trailing his hands down my body before stopping at my waist. He rubbed circles on my hip before pulling down my pants and underwear in one movement, revealing my wet cunt.

I moaned as he brushed his thumb over my clit, “Whitney, please…” I begged him, just wanting him to fuck me already. “I need you.”

“I know.” He smirked cockily and continued rubbing slow circles on my clit, taking his sweet time and drawing it out.

I was at the edge of climaxing when he stopped, “Why?” I whined and threw my head back on the bed.

“Be grateful for what I give you, slut.” He smirked and pulled down his pants revealing his hard cock, precum beading at the tip, “Only a slut like you would want to be bred.”

“You want it too.” I said teasingly, “You can’t lie to me.”

Without warning he thrusted deep in me, “You don’t know shit.” He didn’t bother waiting for me to adjust, “Fucking slut…” He grunted between thrusts.

I dug my nails into his back, “Shut up and breed me.”

He all but growled, “Oh, I’ll fucking breed you.” He quickly put me into a mating press, causing me to gasp and moan. He set a fast pace, seemingly lost in the heat of the moment. Forgetting all his qualms about breeding me. The sound of skin, grunts, and moans were the only sounds heard as he furiously fucked me.

He’d already pulled three from me but I could feel another orgasm fast approaching. “Whitney!”

“That’s right, scream my name.” He grunted and with one last thrust he came inside me again.

He rested his head against my forehead as he slowly let my legs go. I was sore and my legs were probably bruised but it was well worth it. “See? Not so bad.”

“You lied, didn’t you?” He said as if he already knew the answer to his question.

At least he didn’t sound mad, I thought as I chuckled and nodded. “I did.”

He smirked and kissed me, “Fucking slut…my slut.” He whispered the last part but I heard him perfectly.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

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neet-elite · 1 month

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↳ EVENT 06. M!Kylar (Incest)

Pairing: Big Brother M!Kylar / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,509 Warnings: incest, bath sex, yandere, creampie, cockwarming, stockholm syndrome, riding, breeding Prompt(s): 07 — incest Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: i dunno what inspired me to take a softer approach to this request, but i've been enjoying writing the really loving requests... so i hope that this is still enjoyable !! i also think kylar suits this prompt the most, so it was super fun to explore!!! tysm!

After a long, exhausting, and humiliating day of school (or as Kylar likes to affectionately call it, imprisonment), there is simply nothing better to cap the awful experience off than to indulge in some alone time with his favourite little sister. His only little sister, the light of his life, the sole joy he experiences in this shitty world and his shitty life. To say that he relies on you for all of his comfort and happiness would be an understatement— he saps it. Leeching off of you from the moment he enters home, calling out for your attention before the front door is even closed. And the fact that you're none the wiser only encourages him to use you some more, forever pushing you to your limits to hopefully break you in as his own.

And tonight is no special exception. Away from prying eyes, in the safety of four thin walls, he begs for your affections once again. Dragging you into his room to spend the night together, just like always. And it's comforting to know that even after all the bullshit bullying he has to endure during the day, he can always count on his precious little sister to make it all worthwhile. God, he'd go through near death beatings daily if it meant he got to wrap his arms around you at the end of it all, nice and snug and soft, pretty little sister in his arms for him to coddle and coo at. Because he loves you so much, he's willing to endure whatever it takes to keep you out of harms way; so much so that he willingly puts himself into dangerous situations just to make sure you don't need to leave your shared home for any reason.

The world doesn't deserve your kindness. The town is unworthy of your cuteness, undeserving of your sweetness. Or; perhaps he's just being a selfish big brother, right? Keeping you all to himself, locked away in his tower for self serving reasons.

Like to be the only one to hear your barely audible little whimpers, how soft and pretty you sound right now, especially when his knuckles brush against your wet cheek and you shiver into him. Fuck, feels so good, doesn't it? He knows he does, playfully biting down on his bottom lip— unchecked confidence flowing through him now that he's only with you. It's funny, actually, how no one outside these four walls would assume just how cocky he can get, reserving that side of himself just for you. It's only fair, he thinks. He gets to see sides of you that no one else does, and in return, you receive authority over every aspect of your life, all in an effort to keep you safe. An innocent enough want, though he's well aware of just how degenerate he can get. How far he can twist relative honesty.

It's the least he could do for you, considering all you've got to do is exist and he's happy. Do you even know the things he goes through for you? How much trouble it is to actually keep you healthy and secure? It's like keeping a pet, only more rewarding when you take hold of his hand, little fingers locking with his own before dipping them back under the water together.

So cute! You're so fucking cute it pains him, heart hurting at the way your silky skin rubs against his own, tits pressed snugly to his chest, secured only by the warm water surrounding him. The skin on skin contact just gets to him— it's one of his favourite ways to spend time with you. Naked, bare, ignoring the moral implications of playing with his baby sister in such a disgusting way; he plays with you in far worse ways anyway. But the connection coursing through him, from your fingertips to his own, is unmatched. Causes his cock to tremble inside of you, his eyes instinctively rolling and then squeezing shut at the tight fit inside of your cunt.

It's bath time! he'd ordered you once home, pants already tenting from the way you excitedly started running the water at the mere mention of some valued bath time with big brother.

C'mere, sit on my lap he'd encouraged you once getting in the too hot water, but a little burning isn't gonna stop him from hanging out with his baby sister, now is it?

Wanna sit on it? he'd asked you once feeling you squirming around, wiggling your baby sister butt on his fat cock like routine. It's not the first time he's impaled your angel cunt in the water, and it certainly won't be the last. A regular enough occurrence at this rate that he knows cock is what you're after when he mentions bathing— not that he's any better, looking forward to getting you wet in the bath just so he can shove his dirty big brother cock inside of you again and again— routine.

It's only natural, he thinks. Given that you're disallowed from seeing anyone else, let alone any other suitors, that you'd want to explore things like sex and orgasms with your big brother. Which is luckily all according to his plan, to seclude you enough to make you think that it's your choice to date him. Greedy cock twitching inside your pretty little hole as you idly rub a thumb up and down his held hand, allowing him to slide down the tub just a little to reposition his cock at a better angle inside of you. If he keeps you all to himself like this, leaving you no other choice but to date and fuck and kiss and marry your big brother, then he can die happy.

"What did you do today?" He mundanely asks, but it's more of a grunt than anything else. Winded by the unfairly tight squeeze of your cunt, wrapped sooooo nicely around him, God, he'd kill for that cunt, yknow?

You take a second to answer, clearly preoccupied with not shifting around too much as he feels you tense up on his cock at the sound of his voice. Pretty baby, big brother will always protect you, okay?

"The usual," you yawn, and he has half a mind to pull out of your pretty pussy to instead stuff your open maw full with cock. "Mostly waited for you to get home, Ky."

Oh, how the affectionate nickname you've taken to calling him goes straight through him, fat beads of precum staining your insides all gloopy as a proclamation of love. His pretty little stockholm sister, are you even away of the things you do to him? How the banality of it all, taking a simple bath with you, is the lewdest part. Cock pulsing against your squishy insides while your tits ride against his chest, primal need dictating him to let go of your hand in favour of placing both hands on the small of your back. A little pressure added there to really make you feel the weight of your words, and by extension, the weight of his cock.

Your reaction is immediate, a sharp little squeak that he wants to force out of you again and again— but there is joy to be had in taking things slow, too. Like how when he lifts a hand up to your soaked hair to pet at, he's privy to the view of your wet cat like stare back at him, pretty pout and all. He leans down, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as a reward for being so cute for him. "Don't you get bored of waiting for me every day? Aren't you doing something else?" He tests you, resting his chin at the top of your head to force you into listening to how hard his heart beats for you; in time with how fast his cock pulses with need.

"I— No... Seeing big brother again is my favourite thing!" You protest, and it's difficult to remain in his calm, cool, and collected big brother composure when you're whining so prettily for him like that, a little moan at the end from the way he rolls his hips against your own in the face of your absolute devotion.

Perfect, he thinks. You're already his, so he can do whatever he wants to you, right?

And while having you cockwarm him is one of his favourite pastimes, he'd be lying if he said he could do it all night. Much to his disappointment, though he tries every single bath time to do just that, your high pitched gasps and sweet little sighs coax him into movement without fail. A gentle back and forth to begin with, moving you up and down his cock with ease more so than moving himself— you can always count on big brother, okay?

And yet, domesticity calls to him. Begs to keep the slow pace, to let you hump him mindlessly once he's kickstarted your movement. You're a good girl, you know to keep moving, yeah? A simple up and down while he twirls your wet hair, gently cupping the back of your head with one hand, the other finding home on your ass to pinch and tug on your cheek. There's not a thought to be had in that dumb little sister brain of yours, is there? And there better not be, given how hard he works to make sure that there isn't. Rock hard cock stroking your insides gently, at your own pace, a satisfied hum escaping him when you huff and puff up and down his length.

"Good answer— ah—" he rewards you with a rushed moan, wrapping his body even tighter around you to get as close as possible to his little sister, wanting more than anything to melt into you, become so connected through the leaking precum dirtying your insides that all you can think about is him— because all he can think about is you, it's only fair! Even if you've proven yourself thus far to surround your world with him, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of you. Convinced by your devotion to thrust his cock up just a little, enough to knock you off balance and further into his greedy hold. "Waiting for big brothers cock?" He urges you to continue, to fuck his perverted length faster, fuck yourself stupid on big brother, okay baby?

You let out a muffled mhm!, moaned directly against his chest, heat rising to his cheeks from how cute you can be when doing something so immoral. You actually enjoy fucking big brother? Gross, he sneers internally. Only, the fact that you take part and also relish in something as vulgar as this tugs on his heart. Has his mind reeling with affections for you, grabbing a greedy fistful of your ass to aid in your bounces up and down.

Water splashes around him, the pace of your tiny humps quickening the harsher he grabs you. To the point that he has to use both hands on your pretty body, literally picking you up and letting you drop back down on his cock with insatiable need.

"Fuck, I can't— you're too good at this." he half laughs, sinking further into the water so as to allow you enough room to properly straddle him, every bounce you make on his fat cock leaving him more than a little breathless as he struggles to keep up with your thirst. Chest tight with the sight of you indulging yourself to his cock, using him just as much as he uses you on a daily basis. Oh how he loves it, to be at the receiving end of your adoration, your warm cunt sucking him further in with ever fuck, prompting his hips to hump upwards out of sheer desperation to match your sibling fucking energy.

Greedy as he is though, his hands settle possessively on your hips. Aiding in your movements in a selfish manner, forcing you to grind your puffy clit against him every time you slam your ass back down against his lap.

More than anything he strives to make you happy. Everything, literally everything he does is for you. Guided by your smile, aided by your laughter. He loves you so much, didn't you know? It's why he's helping you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, thoughtlessly thrusting in tandem with your humps, moaning out for you just as much as you sob his name. Over and over, his favourite song.

And like the good big brother he is, he knows when you're close. Takes over the job of fucking when you grow too weak to continue, despite the water splishing over his face. He'd drown if it meant you got to cum, honestly.

Rather than state the obvious, he focuses solely on helping you get there. Cooing and tutting and staring at your scrunched up pretty expression. He'll have to give you so many kisses afterwards for allowing him the privilege to see that cute face later on. Helping you grind your hips down on him in a way that his groin rubs your clit just the way you like, preferring to keep you seated there as your nails dig into his chest for slippery stability, taking to fucking his cock as deep as possible from your stationary seated position. He's barely moving, relying on the twitches and throbs of his cock inside for stimulation. But fuck— baby sister cunt feels so good, how your insides squirm around and suck his cock off so well, pretty whines spilling for him in abundance.

He stares at your face, only so that he can watch you fall apart on his big cock. Because the cut off sob you let out, followed by a gasp of his name before your moth falls open in a silent beg is so cute, fuck, he can't stop himself from cumming too. Not when your hole wraps tighter than ever around his intrusion, bullying his way inside your cunt to shoot his load as deep as possible, aiming to breed his baby sister bitch as payment for sticking by him when no one else would. Promising a future you've yet to learn about simply because you're too cute to hold back, painting your insides sticky white to mix with the bath water when he inevitably pushes some out with deep thrusts.

Gushy little cunt, still spasming around his length when he's done filling you up. It's a good thing you're in the bath with him after all, quietly cooing to you in soft privacy to get up, let him clean you while you're here. There's no one here to tell you how wrong it is for him to not only breed your cute hole, but to also clean it up afterwards with his fingers sneakily entering to scissor around a little.

And he hopes to keep you this way. Dumb, obedient, and oblivious. It's when his favourite little sister is at her cutest.

#500 event!#kylar the loner #kylar smut #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

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alexysmugg · 3 months

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pairing : m! kylar x reader (you pronouns used) warnings : kylar, basic yandere themes, nude(?)

minors do not interact, go away shooo

imagine asking kylar to borrow his laptop so you could make a school assignment on it, but one thing you didn't know was that he has a secret folder with more than one thousand photos he took of you. he pounder to backup it up in a flash drive before lending his laptop to you, but he would be lying if he said he didn't want you to discover this dirty secret of his— and it's not like nobody knew about his obsessions towards you.

so you soon enough found it. but instead of being scared or grossed out, you're turned on; even you can't explain as to why. nonetheless, an idea pops inside your brain: add more photos and videos to his collection. some lewd selfies and even a video of you touching yourself and moaning his name. obviously you would 'hide' it between the others and wait till he finally notices them.

giving his laptop back, you can only hope that he'll find it one day and have enough courage to speak about it with you.

#degrees of lewdity #kylar the loner #kylar dol #degrees of lewdity fanfic #dol fanfic #. writing #this bitch has a whole ass manor there's no way he doesn't has one (1) single laptop

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cyrassol · 11 months

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Sometimes Eden thinks things he shouldn't think. Feels things he shouldn't feel. He doesn't ever share them, though, because that's just not who Eden is.

Sometimes he remembers the beginning, the very first time he met you. He remembers you trying to resist the inevitable, doing your best to punch and scratch and kick and bite, and he remembers that your best wasn't good enough. He remembers subduing you was easy, and he remembers that he wasn't gentle. You had to learn, and pain is the best teacher of all.

"These woods are dangerous. You could have gotten hurt," he'd said afterwards.

I did get hurt, is what your vacant eyes and tear-stricken face had said when your mouth didn't.

But not as bad as you could have been. I'm protecting you, he'd wanted to reply, but right then his mouth hadn't moved either.

You agree with him now. But sometimes, late at night with you sprawled across his chest, he wonders if he agrees with himself.

He wonders if you would have loved him if he hadn't made you. Sometimes the question keeps him awake long after you've fallen asleep. The question distracts him just as he's about to pull the trigger on a target, the question sours the sweet moments when you look at him with nothing but softness in your eyes.

Sometimes, you wake up in a cold sweat and look at him with the same eyes as in the beginning, and the question returns again.

"Please, Eden," you always pant as he rams into you while your climax approaches and sometimes, for a moment, his mind flashes back to when you'd said those words while begging him to stop.

Sometimes Eden thinks things he shouldn't think. Feels things he shouldn't feel.

He doesn't ever share them, though. Because he can't risk those thoughts becoming yours too.

#just a lil drabble #bc the brain worm wouldn't shut up #eden the hunter #degrees of lewdity eden #dol eden #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #dol fanfiction #dol fanfic #cyra attempts writing

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 months

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Tumblr Story: Reformed Bully

Note: For @dollya-robinprotector. Since you’re going through a rough patch, I thought some fluff would work in easing the stress.

Very light FGO/Passing Days-DOL crossover and all. Based heavily off this one ask and this comic that led me to meeting you, Dollya. :) Written as thanks for talking with me and bonding over the FGO gnomes.

Was listening to YOASOBI’s Idol when writing this. And Dr. Stone’s One Small Step.

Now if y’all excuse me, I need to sleep. More hematopathology work tomorrow.

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By the time Vy had noticed the door show up in her room, she wasn’t surprised anymore. It even decided to appear once she had finished packing up the latest batch of magic peanut butter cookies for the Servants, but compared to the previous door, this one had—

“A silver handle…?” Unlike all of Chaldea’s sliding doors and the previous magic entrance that led to another Master’s world, this door looked almost ordinary, its white oak furnishings and matching pale silver doorknob making it look like it came out of a Home Depot. Even when compared to the white walls of her room in Novum Chaldea, the newest entryway looked… mundane. In spite of its faint glowing too.

Vy considered. Glancing down at her bags of cookies, one in particular stood out to Vy’s eye. It was a bit lopsided from including some of the bigger cookies of the batch, not to mention the rather crooked purple ribbon bow, but it was… it was apparently glowing the same faint yellow as the new door.

With one last look at the door, Vy felt herself smile wryly. “I guess… if this is glowing too… might as well try and take a chance as long as I’m not gone for too long, right? Just have to wear the right Mystic Code…”

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“Nngh…”

“…Oh dear,” Vy said for herself when stepping through the magic door. What waited beyond it was a grassy hill, a single tree overlooking what looked like a farm, and a single man lying in the grass, asleep with—with actual tears in his eyes. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he was suffering from a nightmare in spite of the warm atmosphere around him, but add in the light thrashing and the sweat beading his forehead, Vy knew she couldn’t leave him be.

The blond fringe of hair hiding one side of his face away from view was the last nail in the metaphorical coffin. If his hair was ginger-colored instead of blonde, then—

I want to help this person just like I help Robin.

It was why Vy kept the one bag of cookies from Chaldea nestled close to the chest of her Decisive Battle uniform, slowly getting to her knees and reaching out with one gloved hand.

“Sir,” she whispered softly, patting his shoulder as gently as she could. Her ponytail could be pushed over her shoulder later. Right now, someone was suffering, and— “Sir, please wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

“N-Ngh—” The man groaned, nearly slapping her hand if not for Vy moving it out of the way just in time. “Lya—! Lya, I’m s—!”

“Sir,” Vy spoke more firmly, worry leaking into her voice before she realized it as her fingers reached up to pinch at his cheek. Sitting down on her knees, she said, “It’s alright — it’s over. It’s time for you to come back to reality now.”

The blond man got up with a start once her pinching registered, blue eyes wide with shock and tears once his spine made an audible crack from sitting up so abruptly. Vy immediately took her hand back, schooling her panic as best as she could once he looked at her past the haze in his blue eyes. “Lya—!” he blinked. “You’re… you’re not Lya.” His brow furrowed almost immediately, a glare settling in his eyes as he took her in. “Who are you, where did you come from, and when did you get to this farm?”

Typical, Vy thought. Outwardly, she did her best to smile placatingly, shrugging her shoulders. “Good morning to you too, good sir. I’m Vy — consider me a passerby who came through a magic door and saw someone crying in their sleep and therefore couldn’t leave them alone,” she said, pointing at her own eyes past her glasses to gesture to her newly awake companion. The “magic door” part of her statement wasn’t a complete lie, but it was enough to wipe some of the apprehension off of his face. “I’ve had experience with waking up with tears in my eyes, see.”

“…Oh.” And as soon as he said it, the man raised one calloused hand to wipe at his face, the tattooed wristband on his knuckles shining a darker shade of black with the droplets sticking to his skin with the motion. “…Did I look that much like shit?”

“Not as bad as someone who’s had the life literally burned out of them, no.” Vy said immediately, the image of the many victims of Camelot Gawain's Excalibur Galatine coming to the forefront of her mind before she pushed the thought away. That sight was just plain disgusting. “It could’ve been worse.”

Now the man was looking at her with a completely new face. “Burned?”

She smiled and offered the bag of cookies in her arms to him instead. “Yep. I’ve seen worse than someone crying in their sleep, so you have nothing to worry about,” she answered in regards to his unspoken question, shaking her head. “Enough of debating the ‘worse’ in looks. Would you like some cookies? I have a bag right here for you.”

“…Cookies?” The man wasn’t staring daggers at her at least, but he still looked wary. “You made them?”

“With just peanut butter, eggs, and sugar, yes. They’re supposed to be ‘magic.’” Vy felt herself smile a bit wider once she could see the curiosity start to dawn on the man’s face. She offered the bag to him again, lopsided purple ribbon bow and all. “Don’t worry, I didn’t poison them and I taste-tested them beforehand. It just looked like you needed something sweet to work off the nightmare, sir.”

The man glanced at her, then at the bag in her hands, and back at her. “You… You don’t even know me,” he slowly choked out, a large drop of a tear forming in the corner of his visible eye as the blue of his iris widened to reflect her image. “You only just… you only just stumble on me, and you just—”

Vy wasn’t sure whether to smile or just wait. She decided to opt for both while adding in an extra shrug of her shoulders.

“I…” The man choked again, shaking his head while scrubbing at his face with his hand again. The tattoos — he had more on his other hand and even his neck — all of them looking like shackles to match his voice coming out vulnerable and raw-sounding once he said, “I hurt the woman I love. I hurt more than just her. I-I’m still scared I could hurt the family she gave me. So then, why would you—”

“What’s wrong,” Vy said quietly to cut off the self-deprecating rant, “with wanting to help someone, then?”

The man fell silent, the tear in his eye slowly growing big enough to streak his cheek as it then fell to the grass between them.

With a bit of mustered courage — from Mash, from Artoria, from Achilles, from Robin — Vy smiled a bit wider as she reached over with her left hand — glove, lotus-shaped Command Seals and all — to wipe at the man’s exposed cheek. “Hurt is just gonna happen, sir. That’s just how life is,” she said in a softer voice, ignoring the wetness starting to spread out against the fingertips of her glove as she rubbed his cheekbone as gently as she could. As Da Vinci might’ve done in her place, as the Eternal Genius. As Dr. Roman might’ve done in her place, as a medical professional — as a living human from King Solomon’s remains. “And even if I don’t know what happened to hurt you so much, what matters now is how you move forward in the face of all of it. And if you’re waking up like this, crying and worrying about how to treat the person you love even after you hurt her, I’d like to think you’re walking in the right direction.”

The man half-snorted, half-sniffled, but he didn’t slap her hand away. Instead, he weakly leaned into her palm, his other hand coming up to weakly grasp at the bag of cookies sitting between them. “…Huh.” A weak laugh leaves his lips, blue eyes teary still as he closed them for a shaky inhale of breath. “Guess I’m more fucked up than I thought, listening to a stranger and taking fucking peanut butter cookies from them.”

“I’m not a stranger when I previously said my name, sir, not to mention I offered the cookies in the first place,” Vy said plainly, but she still smiled at him. It was the least she could do. “And really — we’re all struggling in life. Might as well start somewhere. So.” She pushed the cookies into his shaking palm, forcing as much cheer into her voice as possible. “My name is Vy. What is yours, sir?”

The smile he gives her in that moment makes her think, Robin, again. Even with the ear piercings and the tattoos, his face looks bright for the first time ever in the sunlight peeking past the tree hanging over them and the farm sitting far away. “…Whitney. It’s… it’s Whitney.”

“Well then!” Vy hummed, making sure to pat his wet cheek a few more times for good measure before lowering her left hand to take his in a squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Whitney! Hurt and all! I have some time on my hands being a passerby, so why don’t we chat for a bit? Hopefully get the tears out of you too!”

Because when barely anyone outside of Mash and the Servants — Robin especially — reached out when she woke up crying, the least Vy could do was make sure no one else could have a repeat experience.

#mastersona vy #whitney the bully #gift things #writing #unedited #fate grand order #degrees of lewdity fanfic #no 18+ stuff here #just fluff #and comfort #long post #text post #from one artist to another #dol homestead au

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thedarkonesposts · 11 months

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I could talk about Kylar all day so here’s part one of god knows how many of random Kylar headcanons. Feel free to add your own or discuss mine! I love to chat.

Random:

- He knows how to play piano, his parents made him learn when young but he never really enjoyed it so he stopped once they transformed. He still remembers a good deal though

- He doesn’t have a mirror in his room due to being extremely insecure, he even removed the mirror from his bathroom- and covered most of the others in the house to avoid having to see himself

- He has bad social anxiety and hates going to crowded places. He does better in quiet outdoor places as opposed to indoor ones since there’s typically less people.

- He has adhd, borderline personality disorder, an anxiety disorder, likely autism, and severe depression.

- He loves to read romance novels and imagine himself in them, the sappier the better.

- He had a crush on Sydney as a kid.

- Human death has stopped bothering him, he’s quite desensitized to gore, violence, and death- unless an animal is involved. He’ll have a full nervous break over seeing a dead animal.

- Stutters and struggles to pronounce certain words. Has a little bit of a lisp that absolutely isn’t helped by how soft his voice is.

- He loves dating games / visual novels, he religiously plays free otome games and models the mc after himself

- He’s trans ftm and despite his stature passes very well. Most people at school just think he’s a runty effeminate boy.

Appearance / body headcanons:

- Kylar has a million nervous habits, his fingers are always chewed up. Nails bitten, skin peeled, it’s an awful nervous habit that he tries to combat with bandaids but ends up just moving to a different finger as soon as access is lost. He picks at his skin a lot too, any little blemish will be picked so badly it becomes a crater and scars.. and He has a *lot* of scars. Self harm ones, accidental ones, ones just from picking and such. Most of them are on his hands, wrists and thighs but he kind of has them all over. he’s a biter and chewer too. His lips are always dry so he chews the skin off, his lips are always cracked and bloody, he doesn’t care though.

- He’s 4’11” but looks even smaller due to terrible posture, he’s always hunched over.

- He’s physically very sensitive but his neck, thighs, and hands are his most sensitive areas.

- He has terrible eye bags all the time and looks tired- unless manic.

- His pupils dilate easily so he often has huge blown out pupils.

- His hairs wavy/curly but typically greasy so it never quite looks right. It’s always messy and knotted- sticking out every which way.

- He’s extremely pale, bordering on looking sickly. He blushes and also bruises extremely easily- something as simple as grabbing his wrist will bruise.

- Has very bony knees, fingers, and hips

- Most of his clothes are stained, he rarely if ever does laundry and leaves his clothes in piles around his room to grab and wear when he needs.

- A lot of his clothes are also ill fitted and huge. He’ll only wear long sleeves even if he’s alone at home, big sweatshirts and hoodies are the most comforting option for him so he usually wears them every day- even hot days.

- His shirts have all had the end of the sleeves chewed on, hoodie drawstrings too.

Affection headcanons:

- he likes neck and cheek kisses the best.

- He loves to lay in his partners lap, or vice versa.

- He will constantly draw and write about his partner, it’s an easier way to show love than verbalizing it. He struggles with words so poetry or art serves to close the gap.

- He uses a lot of pet names, he’s awkward and stunted with verbal affection but pet names come easily, as does praise.

- Napping / sleeping together is one of his favorite things.

-he licks a lot. Just randomly licks and bites partners to show affection

Kink headcanons:

- He has a size kink, he likes being smaller than his partner- especially if they take advantage of that difference in size.

- he prefers to be submissive, and has a naturally submissive personality, only being dominant when it’s out of rage or delusion.

- He really likes praise but also degradation. He’d personally only praise- borderline worship partners but enjoys either when done to him. It does also depend on what’s being said. For praise he likes anything but for degradation he likes things about his size, his intelligence, and his sexual experience. He hates to be degraded for his looks, or degraded in a way that compares him to others- he’ll get legitimately insecure.

- blood kink.

- Likes to be called pet names, kitten, baby, literally anything soft and affectionate will make him weak.

- He’s into a lot of things he would do while hysteric, but wants them done to himself. Being kidnapped? Turns him on. Being tied up or kept in a cage? He’d be in heaven. He has a huge thing for power imbalance and wants to be helpless

- Rapekink,,, goes both ways.

- Breeding. Obviously.

- He likes saliva a lot. Spitting, messy kissing, licking, saliva being shared in any way really does it for him

- He’s very open to experimenting with kinks, will try anything honestly.

Potentially triggering / dark headcanons:

(Tw: eating disorder mention, drug abuse, unhealthy habits, Sa)

- he abuses prescription meds he’s on, intentionally od’s on antidepressants for the forced mania it gives when depressed, takes too many anxiety meds to black out, will use anything recreationally if given a chance.

- Kylar has a really weird relationship with food. He either doesn’t eat or eats an insane amount of unhealthy food all at once, never an in between. In general he only really eats junk food and only knows how to cook because he thinks it would impress others. Half the time he doesn’t have the motivation to actually make himself something, the other half he’s just not hungry. he started intentionally restricting food when he was younger but never really was able to fix his relationship with food and hunger, he also struggles with body image so gaining weight scares him.

- Kylar was sexually abused when younger leading to a lot of his issues, his bpd and hypersexuality developed mostly as a result of the abuse.

- He equates sex to love, he doesn’t understand that there’s a difference and they can exist without each other. To him sex is the ultimate act of love because that’s what he’s been taught- so he constantly tries to have sex with his partner in order to validate that. He’ll get extremely anxious and upset if turned down, because he feels like the other person doesn’t love him. He also won’t say no, no matter if he wants it or not. Consent is a weird topic with him and he has little to no actual understanding of it. To him if you love someone you have sex with them, no matter what.

- He gets really bad depressive episodes when he isn’t manic, withdrawing from his hobbies and sleeping most of the time

- Has a drug problem. (Have a more in depth post abt this specifically)

#kylar the loner #tsefried rambles #sydney the fallen #sydney the faithful #dol kylar #degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fanfic #headcanons #kylar headcanons

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p3achysuki · 1 year

Note

How do you think Whitney would react if they saw the PC (considering they can get possessed by the Ivory Wraith) walking around at night because of the Ivory Wraith?

He’s so confused at first, he didn’t know you’d be the type to stay out late whatever though it only meant he could go harass you. He hides in an alleyway waiting for you to pass by as his friends laugh and snicker from afar waiting for the whole scene to unfold, when Whitney sees you he quickly grabs your hair and pulls you back into him, “what are you doing walking around late at night slut?” Whitney was going to make another remark until he saw your eyes, why did you look like that? So… emotionless? Were your eyes always a dark red color? You don’t respond to him, instead you break out of his hold on you and continue to walk to where the ivory wraith was taking you. Whitney goes to grab you again until you smack his hand away, he wasn’t pissed that you did that. He just found it odd even his friends stopped laughing, “Leave.” You warn him as you try leaving again, but Whitney doesn’t allow you to. “What the fuck is going on with you?” You struggle against his hold, but Whitney doesn’t let go. He notices you slowly come to stop though he feels something wet drip on his arm, that’s when he realizes your crying.

“Whitney.” Your voice sounded meek as you said his name, he doesn’t scold you or yell at you. Instead he tells his friends to piss off and puts his sweater around your shoulder, he lets you hold his hand as he walks you back home. He doesn’t know what the fuck happened to you, but he won’t pressure you into tell him.

#dol #dol headcanon #dol headcanons #whitney dol #degrees of lewdity headcanon #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity whitney #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity

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rootedshrew · 27 days

Text

more rambles too my friends but with robin and kylar. this is also valley like dol so I thought I could share here.

written terribly ofc as just rambling but aye-

they call them OCS because the overall story is basically not dol at all and I'm eventually gonna have to seperate them but it's just for fun so aye

kylar isn't really obsessed with ken (PC) in this but I wanted a different reason for why he is so infatuated with PC, it doesn't fit the cannon of PC staying in orphanage but in the story, her and robin are seperate at around 10 as she's put into foster homes.

vauge Sydney mention too but that's a whole different story

#dol sydney #dol kylar #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #kylar the loner #dol robin #robin the orphan #degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity pc #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity #rambles

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yuwawawa · 2 months

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Robin POV of what if Robin know PC since childhood, but the PC he know and the PC that we start playing is different in soul(?).

And there's the fact I'm lost not knowing which way to go the first time I play it. I just want to think a prompt how to hurt baby Robin, and I like childhood friend that not end well.

=======

"Here! Ring for our promise! With these we're always gonna be together!"

Isn't that what you said back then as you put the flower ring in my ring finger, and I put one in yours too?

Then Why…

Why are you talking to them with that sweet voice like that…?

Why are you smiling so lovingly like that to them?

Since when did that smile you always show only to me shifted to them?

Why-...

.oOo.

I still remember your smile back then

As I teach you how to make a flower crown for the first time

When the one you made still not strong enough to hold it shape

Until you can make it strong enough to hold its shape

And called my name happily because you finally did it

It was long ago

Many years before

We were small

I'm sure you have already made many since then

But why?

Why are you back to like you never did this before?

Weren't we making it daily when the flowers bloom for years?

And we also make some Pressed bookmarks and flower pouches with it too

There's supposedly some in your room that you display because you say that it's precious

But where has all of it gone?

Why do you look like you've never been here before?

The way to the park where we sell hot chocolate together in winter

If you turn left there's a beach where we sell lemonade

And then there's our school just straight from the park

The way to the forest

The way to the movie

Why…

Why do you look like you forget about it?

Who are you?

What are you doing with them?

Where do you hide them?

Why do you look like them?

How do you make everyone else think that you are them?

When are you gonna give them back?!

GO AWAY

GIVE THEM BACK NOW

DON'T USE THEIR BODY AS YOU LIKE

DON'T TAINT THEIR BODY LIKE THAT

WHY DO YOU MAKE EVERYONE ELSE DON'T NOTICE YOU TAKE OVER THEIR PLACE?

WHY IS IT ONLY ME THAT NOTICE IT?

WHY-...

Why only me…

It hurts…

my chest hurt…

If it's this hurt…

Please…

Please just make me not notice it too…

Please...

Just make me forget...

#robin the orphan #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol fanfic #dol fanfiction #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #i don't know wtf i'm doing #imagine seeing robin screaming as he cries

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darkkalendas · 2 years

Text

SCENE III: perdition

warnings: blowjob, semi-public, use of words as slut, doll, femreader, fingering, leash and collars, pet names. originally published by me on ao3.

summary: now that you're whitney's girl, you must be ready for any type of game he has ready for you.

“Aren’t you gonna obey me, pretty?” his tone is low, and he throws the cigarette away, still with the smoke on his mouth. He gets closer, releasing it slowly against your face, the scent you’re starting to associate to love. He looks so handsome like this, with the leash on his hands and one of his brows raised in expectation. His shirt is still unbuttoned from the math class’ make out and his blonde hair falls without order on his face. He’s demanding an answer. The first times, you would have fight back, but now.

Now it’s another game.

"Or what?" you ask. Your breath collides with Whitney's lips, as he licks them, with a grin appearing behind his tongue. His grip on your hair isn't strong, but yet it has your head inmovilized. Your lips are curved on a superiority smile that Whitney doubts between taking away with a kiss or a spank on your ass.

"Asking for the consequences of disobeying your owner?" he moves your bangs, revealing the "Property of Whitney" tattoo on your forehead. God, it never failed to make him hard. His calligraphy on your body, marking his territory forever. Damn, a collar and a leash isn't enough. He needs to fuck you in every public space he finds. Show every single asshole of this city to whom the pretty girl belongs to. Still, he keeps the grip on your hair, loosening it, letting your kneeled body get closer to his sat one. Your lips are so close, tempting him so well, so plump and pink, so glossy, so kissable. You're the strongest drug Whitney has ever tried, and the first one he's begging to get addicted to.

"First, disobeying me would mean..." his eyes scan the park, the fountain, the bathrooms, the thread of benches in front of him. "That I would throw your little body to that exact bench and fuck you senseless."

"Is that supposed to be a punishment, sir?" he doesn't know if it is the tone, the burling smile or your hands sneaking near his bulge, but those damn words make his hand take you softly by the neck, pulling your face so close to his that your lips collide when he talks.

"Listen, slut." his tone is husky and low. The way his thumb caress your scalp sends shivers down your spine, making you purr in pleasure under his lovely gaze. “I’ll make your legs tremeble and edge you once and once again until you’re anything but whimpers and pleads for me to make you cum, alright?” You can distinguish the playfulness, the joy, the love, the things he’s never repressing around you now that his feelings turned out to be reciprocal. Your shirt is wet from the soft rain, and his hair lets little drops fall on your skin. Goddess, he’s so full of lust for you, so needy, so fucking horny every single hour of the day.

You made something on him. He never goes to class, never, why the fuck does he now enjoy math class? To put his cheek on his palm and see how cute you get when your answer is correct? To make out secretly while the teacher is not looking? To grip your legs under the table and end making you ride him on the bathroom? There’s something changing him and, for the first time, he likes it.

He likes the kind of person you’re turning him into. Slowly, with your nails gripped to his heart, crawling towards a place that has been waiting for you. He cares for you, so deeply that he doesn’t mind to hurt or pass above anyone to keep you safe. He demonstrated it, already, kicking that asshole’s ass at the orphanage and helping Robin and the other orphans without even asking for it. You discovered that, under all that façade, there was just a broken child that wanted, for once, someone’s attention. That’s why he had that shitty attitude. He just wanted someone to look at him.

And, out of everyone, you did.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be able to stop when you’re inside me.” you whisper, as your fingers press his bulge stronger.

“You think I have the same autocontrol than a doll like you?” he asks, jokingly offended, and a moan scapes his mouth when you open his fly, fingers quickly inside to touch him above the underwear.

“No.” you say, hands now accomodating his pants while your face gets closer to his crotch. “You have even less.”

With that being said, you slide your tongue on his underwear, following his cock’s shape from outside. It's so lewd, so fucking naughty to see you kneeled, leaving threads of spit on his black boxers, looking at him from the ground directly in the eyes, that he feels like he has a godess between his legs. His moans sound heavenly for you and his fingers caress your hair as you keep spreading saliva on his underwear. He doesn’t want to fail his own believing about autocontrol, but damn, you’re making it hard for him. Right now, he just wants to take his underwear off and thrust in your mouth until he releases down your throat. Just the thought makes his cock twich cutely under your mouth. “Suck it, please.” he asks, playing with some locks, with that lusty, half-closed eyes look you love to see on him. “Be a good girl for me, hm?” Your cheeks blush at the pet name he uses. “Come on, don’t be timid.” He takes his pants down and his boxer, letting his cock free under your hungry gaze. “Get closer and do what you’re best at, slut.” With a movement of his hips and a tug on your leash, he rubs his tip on your lips, spit serving as lub. You timidly lick his tip, slowly taking more of his head on your mouth until he takes both your cheeks, thrusting inside your mouth with a long moan escaping his mouth. Looking down again, he looks at your eyes, teary because of the intrusion, and he soflty slides his thumbs to dry them, lovingly making circles on your cheeks when he’s done. You bob your head slow, adapting your mouth and your throat to him, and he tries to keep his hips quiet. Of course he does, trying not to fuck your mouth and destroy you. He tries just for you, but it doesn’t seem enough when his hips start a slow up-motion against you. The piercing on his belly button shines with every thrust he gives up, hands still on your cheeks to keep your head in position for him to fuck.

“Fuck, my girl has to be the best giving head in all fucking town.” he whispers as you try to follow his pace with your mouth, tongue sliding around his tip and hands massaging his balls to stimulate him. He moans again, one of his hands fastly travelling to his hair, messing it before going back to your face, your pretty and cute face he feels so nice ruining. Your breasts move along your body, free because of your open shirt, and he’s able to see a timid hand running down your skirt to get in between your legs. He would pay to be the fingers fucking you now, but, godess, your mouth feels too good for him to move. He’ll take care of your dripping cunt later, but he’s the one giving you pleasure, not yourself. “Put your hands on my thighs and don’t move them from there.” he demands, serious, while your throat gags trying to keep him in. Obeying, you grip his pants and start again with the bobbing, spit falling from your mouth and ensalivating all his shaft, making it even more and more enjoyable for him.

He never gets tired of you. He could just take you home with him and make sure you won’t leave the bed for a week straight. He has so many fantasies he would like to make true with you. In the shower, the kitchen and the mall. The rooftop of the alleways and Bailey’s office. Oh, god, he has such a fantasy to fuck you on that asshole’s room, to make you his on every single corner to make you forget what he did and replace all the bad things with pleasurable memories.

His mind goes back to you when you slide your fingertips on his base, caressing up and down, follwing your mouth to give some love to all the parts you can’t reach. “Damn, baby.” he whispers again. His gaze, totally soft and focused only on you, follows his fingers, caressing your hair. As he keeps looking at you, his moans get faster, hoarser, more intense. His hips move on their own and you try your best to keep the gag reflex out of the way, feeling him near to his release down your throat. With a last hard thrust and the hottest moan you’ve ever heard, his cum slides down your throat, the image of you swallowing it being a reson to get him hard again. He leaves your mouth, still twiching with pleasure as he makes you stand up, a violent kiss against your lips, tongue invading your mouth and hands rubbing and touching and exploring every single inch of you. He parts, heavy breath getting mixed with yours as his forehead rests on yours, a side smile appearing on both your mouths. He sighs, hand slipping into your skirt, touching your uncovered and already wet folds.

“You’re gonna be my perdition.”

#whitney x reader #whitney x you #whitney x y/n #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #whitney dol #degrees of lewdity x reader

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mermi3 · 2 months

Text

Picrew concept for child!Charlene;;;; (age 7-14ish) girl omg the picrew that I used for this was so scary😭😭it's I think by ghostpiko? I don't read Japanese, but I gotta put down the TW for g0re..... god i fucking hate visual g0re i was shaking as i was making her😭😭😭

Will be posting plot concept/prologue soon?? If not adult! or young adult!Charlene...

Additionally because i'm still very new to dark fic writing, i'd really appreciate some tips! As in, housekeeping stuff as a tumblr writer, as I'd prefer not to accidentally trigger anyone w my writing🥹

ALSO THIS WILL NOT INVOLVE INC3ST OR P3D0 (at the very least, in a romanticizing lens of either one). The central relationship is a love triangle between Bailey, Charlene, and Eden. Angsty stuff uwu

#degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #eden the hunter #morgan the sewer dweller #degrees of lewdity fanfic #if i can't even make a remotely violent picrew how on earth am i gonna be writing this fic...#writing help request #tw: abuse

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propertyofwhitney67 · 4 months

Text

His Gift

M!Kylar x F!Reader

Words: 553

TW: smut, dubcon-ish?, breeding (it's Kylar what did you expect),

Note: My first ever Kylar fic and I was far too ambitious and made it smutty. This should never see the light of day...

I felt something holding me as I woke up in a sweat. I froze in fear and looked over to thankfully only find Kylar. I petted his hair, slowly waking him. “Good morning.”

He smiled and held me tighter, “Good morning, my love. Happy Valentine's Day.” He kissed me, his teeth clashing against mine painfully. He still had learning to do on that front.

When I pulled back from the messy kiss, I noticed my window was wide open. I looked down at Kylar, “How did you get in?”

He looked a little sheepish at first, “Through the window.” He explained, slowly gaining that crazy look to him that I loved so dearly. “I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.”

I chuckled and kissed his cheek, causing him to blush. “How thoughtful of you. How about I give you your first gift of the day?” I shrugged off the blanket and went to my wardrobe, pulling out the new lingerie I bought.

I loved watching his reaction as I changed out of my pajamas and into the lingerie. His eyes were wide and he was fidgeting, wanting to get his hands on me. I twirled and posed for him as he sat on the bed, “What do you think?”

He continued to fidget and blush, “Y-You look beautiful, my love.” He reached out his small hands to touch me, he couldn’t keep them from shaking. “You always look so beautiful…” He got lost in admiring my body, his hands resting on my hips.

“I got them just for you,” I whispered and took his hands off my hips, pushing him back on the bed and hovering over him. “Now for your next gift.” I unhooked my bra and tossed it to the side. He tentatively reached up, grabbing my breasts and squeezing them with his small hands.

His breathing became heavy as he continued groping my chest, “Please…take it off.”

I pulled back and laughed at how pathetic he sounded, “Lucky for you, me being naked is a part of your gift.” Just to tease him, I slowly stripped off my remaining lingerie.

“Stop teasing…” Kylar whined and reached out to pull down my panties. I playfully smacked his hands away, causing him to get angry. He frowned and ripped the rest of the lingerie from my body. He then pinned me under him, he’s strong when he gets like this.

He kept me pinned with one arm and with the other freeing his cock from his pants. “Kylar…” I trailed off. He ignored me and rubbed the head of his cock against my entrance, collecting my wetness.

He moaned like a pathetic virgin as he entered me, “You feel so good…” He couldn’t hold back for long and began to thrust in and out of me. “You’re going to look so beautiful pregnant.”

I clenched around him, his words affecting me. “Fuck…breed me.” He began to thrust furiously upon hearing my words.

“You’re perfect…” He mumbled, hiding his face in my neck. Occasionally kissing and biting me, but mostly just breathing heavily.

Kylar moaned loudly in my ear as he came. I laughed at how quickly he came, “You’re so pathetic.” I brushed the hair out of his face and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

#tw dubcon #tw breeding kink #dol #dol kylar #kylar the loner #dol fanfic #dol fanfiction #kylar dol #kylar x reader #degrees of lewdity kylar #kylar degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #degrees of lewdity fanfic #degrees of lewdity imagine #kylar the loner x reader #dol x reader #my writing

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neet-elite · 1 month

Text

↳ EVENT 09. M!Robin (Jealousy Sex + Yandere)

Pairing: M!Robin / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,777 Warnings: yandere, somnophilia, dubcon, creampie Prompt(s): 06 — jealousy sex + 18 — yandere Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: oh robin you sweet thing. i love taking otherwise soft n gentle characters n making them do the absolute opposite lmao, so thank u for sending this request in mwah! i hope i characterised him well enough!

Appearances are hard to keep up with when he's got you in his life. Though, all things considered, he thinks he's done a pretty good job of keeping your dumb little brain unaware of his true feelings thus far— real self locked away behind nice smiles and sweet platitudes out of necessity. Placating you until it's a good time time to strike, to get his grubby manhandling hands all over every inch of you like he fucking deserves; especially after putting up with you for so long, his whole life as he remembers it to be precise. Childhood best friends turned hopeful lovers.

And yet, he's too late. Despite all of the patient solitary wanting, fist down his pants over your sleeping frame every night, watching, waiting, struggling not to touch your most sensitive parts as you lay unaware, biding his time by instead collecting items of affection from you unnoticed, just so that his selfish self doesn't come on too strongly and accidentally scare you off. Pining in secrecy because his intentions are anything but pure, and you're so fucking innocent to him, God.

Even after all that time of him waiting— you still run off with someone else.

To who? To fucking Whitney, that's who. A shared bully figure, someone so undeserving of your kindness it's almost laughable, if only he didn't need you more than life itself. A slap in the face he intends on returning in kind tonight, sneaking his way to your bedroom early in the morning, when everyone else sleeps— careful of the creaky floorboards, he remembers which one makes the most noise— to show his beloved all about what you've been missing out on. And, selfishly, to express some of his built up frustration and downright hatred he holds for the man you've been seeing behind his back this whole time.

Because he's not as stupid as he's lead you to believe. Tapping into your precious little saviour complex as a means to grow closer to you, feigning innocence in the face of your genuine curiosity, just to play the part of your loving, harmless, childhood best friend. And it's been working, too; that's the worst part. The fact that he was so close to earning his reward, creeping into your room with slow movements so as to not wake you from the obnoxiously old hinges, so close to having you that he can practically taste you as his frame hovers over your own sleeping one.

A regular sight for him, pants already tenting just from huffing the same air as you, holding his breath for a second or two too long just to accurately hear you cutely puff out a few of your own. God, he bets Whitney doesn't appreciate you like this, does he? Bending down, careful not to fuss over you too much because you look just so cute snoozing away like that, hovering his lips mere inches away from your own for the sole purpose of sniffing. Inhaling your delicious scent like it were a drug, and it might as well be from how dizzy with desire his head becomes, cock heavy and dribbling in his pants without even having to touch you.

Does Whitney get the same way with you?

Drooling over your sleeping body, greedy paw magnetic to his cock as he starts to tug on it just from hearing you snore, blissfully unaware but oh, you make such a pretty victim. Of his love, of course. His obsession with the way your chest rises and falls in the moonlight, fat beads of precum rolling down his length, dripping down his balls to leave him feeling all gross and sticky and in love. All pure intentions here, he privately assures you.

Too many countless nights have been spent this way. Yearning for you, craving just a single taste— knowing deep down that the first bite is always the sweetest; hence why he's been waiting so long. Here, have this freshly peeled orange slice, I plucked the section by hand just for you. Except, instead of dipping your orange juice soaked fingers down his throat, Whitney has had the supreme pleasure of tasting instead.

To which he physically cringes at the mere thought of, a full body jerk back, cock throbbing in his pants out of sheer jealousy for where your fingers have been.

He's only here to take back what is rightfully his anyway. What is, and always has been, his claim. Proven by the fact that his cock twitches for you now, how it drools just from being near you.

"Shit..." He curses under his breath, still pawing away at his hard bulge, aimed directly at you. Only the barely audible shuffle of his pyjama pants every time he jerks his cock filling the room besides your own steady breathing. And then, a smile stretched his lips. Wide and toothy at the way you so easily get under his skin, how even just watching you sleep is enough to get his cock rock hard and his balls taut with seed. Wouldn't you agree that this indicates fate? That despite your affair with some bully like Whitney, the fact that he's graciously accepting your unknowing apology means that you're destined to be by his side, right?

"I still love you." Despite your adultery, he continues to smile. Interspersed with rushed gasps and sighs, an honest attempt to keep himself quiet out of fear of startling you— but don't worry. He has a lot more planned for you tonight. Best laid plans that've been years in the making.

Although, he thinks so at least. The reality of the situation dawns on him as you lazily snore that by being this close to you, one wrong move and his lips are touching yours, he can't think straight. Torn between taking things slow like he'd initially premeditated, or— go in for the kill as his prey lays bare.

A split second decision, unable to stick to fully one idea, he goes for a mixed approach. Tip toeing his way to the other side of your bed; it's not the first time he's slept over, and he'll make sure that it won't be the last either, he quietly sneaks under your sheets to snuggle his body next to your. So soft and warm you are, hair tickling his nose for him to huff at. "Fuck," He whispers to himself, fist instinctively wrapped tight around his twitching cock, fighting the urge to brutally flip you onto your tummy and pounding your shape into the bed below as fast as he can. It'd be easier if he took his time, right? Played into the tired role of sweet best friend, his eyes rolling back in spite of his attempts to return to that mindset— he can't help himself when it comes to you.

"S'all you're fault." He continues to whisper, reprimanding your sleeping body in hopes of your dumb little brain subconsciously remembering his actions tonight. "If only— fuck," he accidentally rubs too close to the sun, hips stuttering as his clothed tip brushes against your ass. He has to take a moment to collect himself, seething behind you out of utter frustration, or love? They feel all too similar to him when he's in this state. That is, when he's next to you.

"If only you didn't choose Whitney."

Deciding it's now or never simply because he's leaking profusely inside his pyjamas, surely turning them sheer with the amount of affection he regards you with, he tugs his bottoms down. No underwear to follow, free balling by your side because he wanted to fuck you tonight. Take your first time together while you remain blissfully unaware, in the most pure state you could be in. That's when he likes you best. A soft, unconscious, unwitting participant in his declaration of love. And, if you by chance wake up as he's pulling your panties down, or as he leaks copious amounts of precum onto your pretty ass, or when he gently lifts your thigh up just a little, enough to allow room for his cock to slip between, or when he takes to gliding his red hot and needy cock between your slippery folds— holy fuck, that feels so fucking good, then he's certain that he can reel you back to his side by way of some stupid friendly act. A little pout here, an eager apology there.

Regardless of how you take it tonight, you're getting his cock. He's decided you deserve to know exactly what you do to him, anyway.

The second he comes into actual contact with your untouched by him cunt he halts his breathing. Slipping and sliding along your slit feels better than he could ever have imagined, all those lonely nights spent fisting himself silly over your sleeping face immediately feel wasted. You're telling him that he could've been rubbing his fat cock against your pretty little slit like this all this time, turning your tummy all sticky white rather than your cute kissable face? Shit, he feels doubly cheated now! Silently slithering an arm under your neck for stability, the other hand resting on your hip to lightly squeeze and pinch at to keep himself grounded enough to focus on how unfairly perfect your body feels against his. The feeling of your squishy thighs unknowingly squeezing at his length causing a satisfied sigh to escape him, heart full at the thought of your unaware and naive mind being eager to please him even in your sleep. Meant to be, right?

He'll show you what you've been missing out on. Why Whitney is the lesser of two evils. Why you should break up with your sick little play pretend boyfriend and start dating him instead, like he'd intended on from a very young age.

Because yeah, he's been wanting you ever since he can remember. Humping his fat cock up and down your slick pretty slit at the memories of growing up with you. How you've always be on his mind, number one in his heart. After all this time, he deserves a fucking slice too, dont'cha think?

But fuck if you don't feel better than anything he's ever experienced before, downright ruined his fist for future fucks, determined never to use anything other than your perfect angel cunt from now on. He always knew you'd feel amazing, fucking knew it deep down in his gut. But nothing could have prepared him for how nice it'd feel to simply slip between your folds, to knock his dribbling tip against your clit over n over again just to hear your pretty little sleepy mewls.

A small laugh escapes him at your meek moans, easily hidden between the sound of shaking sheets and your squelching cunt, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to try and determine whether you're more wet from his leaking cock, or because your lewd body just wants him as much as he needs you right now.

So, could you blame him from 'accidentally' slipping into your tight little hole as he thrusts against you? Tip caught on your entrance like a beg for more, all his prayers answered the second he feels your squirmy walls accept and envelope his drooling tip, and swiftly his full fat length when he can't stop his hips from driving forward.

Which must have woke you up, at least a little. A confused mumble falling from your pretty lips as his body stills behind you, cock remaining balls deep and throbbing, pulsing inside your warm little hole with sheer need to fuck you into his shape. Carve out your insides so that no one else but him will ever fit again, made perfect solely for him, yeah?

But, after waiting for what feels like for fucking ever, his whole body shaking under the amount of restraint it takes to not fuck you into next week, he doesn't hear another peep. Feeling your body once again relax in his greedy hold, lust driven mind convinced that you must be giving him consent to continue. Because if not, then what else?

Propping one leg up on his other for better leverage, he digs his greedy fingers into your plush skin. Really dragging his nails against you— not on purpose! God, you just— "Feel so fuckin' good, ah..." he whines to himself, pouting at the back of your head with an internal promise to fuck you better than Whitney ever has; or will, for that matter. Drawing his hips back so torturously slowly that he has to let out a low whine from how desperate he is, hopeless in how much he wants to prove himself to you, needs to fuck you the way you deserve so bad, and fuck when you moan in your sleep? All light and airy, a breathless promise that he's doing good, keep going, he can't do anything other than adhere to your wordless plea. Pushing his hips forward again with a little more speed, and then pulling back a bit faster, and then thrusting into you at a much more satisfying pace— one that already has the bed creaking under the weight of his love for you, cute little cunt hugging his cock so well— fucking bitch. Should have picked him, yeah? Maybe then he wouldn't be trying to mount your ass right now, throwing a possessive leg over your own to more easily hump himself stupid into your tight little hole, the way your walls suck him in further, sucking his tip off just so well, like you were fucking made for it—

And fuck if you don't fucking shut up he's liable to shove his slick coated cock down your noisy throat like you're clearly asking for. Cute muffled moans for him to drink up, his voice coming out breathless and whiny when he reprimands you with: "Havin' a nice dream?" God you must be, from the way your insides gush around his intrusion, bullying his tip as deep as he can to try and reach places Whitney has never touched before. Hoping to stain your insides with his scent to ward off anyone else from getting too close to you, nails dragging your ass back down to meet his every greedy thrust with a wet slap! of his balls against you. Mine, he thinks to himself. Fucking mine, no one else should even think of touching you, right? My pretty pet, my good girl, aren't you? He can feel tension building in his tummy with his thoughts, huffing and puffing above you like some kind of bitch in heat, determined to mark you up from the inside out. So that even if you do wander off again, you'll be so thoroughly dirtied by his cock that no one else will even want to touch you. Wouldn't that be nice? To have you come crying in his arms, upset that no one wants you; except he does. Maybe a little too much given how frantically he thrusts into you now, driven only by his selfish need to breed his pretty girl.

Tight fucking cunt, oh my God. So good for me, doesn't this feel good? Feel better than Whitney, right? Wanna fuck you every night like this, fuck, every morning too. Wanna keep my cock permanently inside your pretty angel cunt as a reminder of who you belong to, who fucking owns her, huh? This pretty fuckin' cunt, who owns her?

"R-Robin—?"

Oh shit, did he say that out loud and wake you? Fuck, he's cumming immediately upon hearing your sleepy voice, coated in shame and misunderstanding, muted by the pillow under your pretty face. He can't stand how cute and drowsy you sound while getting defiled, pounding his spurting cock into you with fat ropes shot directly against your cervix, some of it gushing out of your stuffed hole to stain your bed sheets. Sticky insides still squirming around him as he rides your ass out silently, as if remaining quiet will somehow hide his transgressions tonight. Except, they're not really transgressions, are they?

He's only taking back what was originally his. Making sure you know your place by his side by humping his load deep into your hole even after his orgasm dissipates. Small stutters of his hips, struggled gasps for air after holding it in for so long.

"Morning, love." He sputters, back to his regular chipper self for you, cringing at the way his cock grows sensitive inside of your wanting hole. How it continues to beg for more fucks, coaxing him into circling his hips while pushed all the way to the base inside. "Did you sleep well?"

#500 event!#ooough trying to get back into the swing of things w this writing #and by that i mean write “looser” yknow?#not worry as much #about being cringe n such #simply go with the flow worry not for the details #anyway this was fun yippeee :D #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #robin the orphan smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

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alexysmugg · 3 months

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synopsis : sadism hc for DoL characters pairing : winter, harper and whitney (all guys, no mention of gendered pronouns or genitalia for reader) warnings : sadism, masochism, medical malpractice, mention of bruises, mention of orgasm denial.

minors do not interact i'll block you.

winter leans more into a discipline kink rather than hurting you because for him is sexy, it's the power of punishing you that pleases him. oh, you don't want to comply in a class activity? fine, but expect to stay after classes, your butt sore for how many times he slapped it, along with your private parts. also, he could and would use the museum items against you if he seems needed, while throwing some verbal humiliation to make you even more ashamed of your misbehavior actions.

in the other hand, harper is less open about it, falling into a denial state that this is 'just researching material to improve your treatment'— according to him, knowing your pain tolerance and how you react to it will help in your weekly sessions. but deep down he knows that he just enjoys watching you crying and sobbing while covered in bruises that he inflicted, begging for him to stop and that you reach your limit of pain. but you can take just a little more, right? and if it's really painful, he happens to have just the right drug to lessen it, what a good doctor he is.

lastly, whitney is a sadomasochist, especially with a defiant partner. you can scratch nails down his spine, shove him, even go and humiliate him publicly, but god, he's going to give back ten times worst. but you should have expected that, it's not like he was a perfect gentleman before. nonetheless, he enjoys overpowering you and watching you accept that you truly is his slut, and as much as you fight back in the end he owns you; going as far as to control your orgasm.

#degrees of lewdity #winter the history teacher #harper the doctor #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity fanfic #dol fanfic #. writing #switch whitney save meee

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cyrassol · 11 months

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HI i wrote an incredibly self-indulgent avery fic instead of drawing the requests, here's hoping folks enjoy anyway!!!

Avery x PC — who will they believe?

pc: unnamed, no Y/N either. gendered terms "woman" and "girl" used, but no mention of genitals or defined pronouns. second person POV

avery: male pronouns, amab

word count: little over 2k

content warnings: mild violence (hair pulling, not the kinky kind), "whore" used as a derogatory term once, yelling (avery is ANGRY), typical toxic dol relationships, mentions of and brief (albeit graphic) descriptions of sexual activities in dialogue

description: y'all know the scene with high crime and at least a little rage!avery where they drive you to the police station and threaten to turn you in? and defiant pc claps back? yup, this is based on that one! PC is a successful phantom thief who slipped up, and avery is none too happy about the effects that might have on his reputation

enjoy!!! likes are appreciated, replies and reblogs even more so ❤

•••••••••••••••

There's no way in hell.

"What's wrong, my little nymph?" Avery asks, a worried frown tugging at his mouth as if he hadn't parked on Barb Street, a stone's throw from the fucking police station. At least his car windows are darkened so there's no way for anyone to see you from the outside, but if a cop decides to come closer and investigate then it might all be over.

How does he know, anyway? You've been careful, you've been so goddamn careful—face hidden, gloves to avoid any fingerprints, staying out of sight from any would-be witnesses, doing favors for Landry every other week. No one should have been able to trace you, so how does he know?

And more importantly, why does he care?

"So quiet, all of a sudden," he hums, eyeing a couple of police officers as they escort someone with the same build and hair colour as you into the station. "Nervous, perhaps?"

"What's this about, dear?" you ask, tone dripping with the same insincerity, because one does not mingle with high society every weekend without picking up a thing or two.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he sighs, finally meeting your gaze. His expression and voice are perfectly composed into faux-concern, but as adept as Avery is at pretending he fits right in with the upper echelons of society, he still hasn't learned to mask the rage in his eyes. "I've tried to assume you must have good reasons each time you reject my generosity," he continues, mask briefly slipping when wrath makes his voice quiver on the word 'reject'. "But alas, it'd seem I was mistaken."

He doesn't expect a reply yet, and so you don't give him one. You've turned him down here and there for months and while it's clearly hit a nerve, it's nothing new. He hasn't told you the real reason he's mad yet.

"Instead," he goes on, just as you knew he would, "I start hearing rumours."

Ah. Shit.

"What sort of rumours?" you ask, curiosity feigned and genuine at the same time—feigned because you can already imagine what they are, but you also need to know where you fucked up.

"A phantom thief," Avery says, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. "Several of my acquaintances have been hit by this scoundrel. They say the thief breaks into a new mansion every night, leaving no trace except for emptied coffers and missing family heirlooms."

You won't lie, the way he's describing you makes you a little proud. It's concerning that your victims have connected the dots that you're a single individual, of course—the chances of you getting caught are significantly higher if they've figured out your modus operandi—but hearing yourself being spoken about in such a romanticised way almost makes you want to keep going exactly as you are.

Provided Avery's bluffing about turning you in, naturally. And if you've messed with his reputation through people somehow figuring out the girl hanging off his arm at social events is the very thief who's robbing them blind, unfortunately there's a very high chance he isn't.

"And what makes you think I'm involved in anything like that, babe?" you ask, perhaps laying it on a bit too thickly with the nickname. He's never asked you to do it, but you figured out a long time ago that hearing a beautiful woman half his age call him that always makes him preen a little.

Avery gives you a tight smile, and it's the only warning you receive before his grip on your hair turns to iron.

"Because, my little sunshine," he grits out through his teeth, "the thief happened not to notice a security camera on their latest little exploit."

"Fuck."

It comes out before you can stop it, but it wouldn't have been any use keeping quiet anyway. Not if you've been caught on a fucking camera.

"Aptly put," he says with a chuckle that's entirely devoid of mirth. "The acquaintance who caught this criminal on camera made sure to show the footage to a whole group of us as well as the police, so we'd know who to be on the lookout for."

"Surely the thief had a mask on," you say, because you did, and also because you're desperately trying to find anything that might give you the plausible deniability you need to save your ass. "And their hair was definitely hidden, too. How would they have been recognised?"

"Their identity is still unknown," he agrees, before pulling painfully at your hair to tug you closer until you're inches from his face and you can see every fleck of green and every speck of rage in his eyes. "I, however, would recognise that ass anywhere, grainy security footage or no." Avery's smile is all teeth and no warmth. "I fuck it every weekend, after all."

You breathe out slowly through your nose, closing your eyes in defeat. "And if you can recognise me, it's only a matter of time until someone else does."

"Good girl," he says, letting go of your hair. "We finally understand each other."

A few moments of silence pass by as you consider your options, and he considers you.

Finally, he turns forward, hazel eyes cold and staring straight ahead at the police station. "Tell me why I shouldn't turn you in."

Chewing your bottom lip, you study him from the corner of your eye. "... Have I ever robbed you?"

He snorts. "Not yet, you haven't."

That's good, at least you haven't made it overly personal. "To be fair, if I had then it wouldn't have been on purpose. I don't know where you live."

"Don't try to distract me," he hisses, immediately erasing any trace of mirth from the conversation. "You're a liability. Who's to say you won't get caught again? Do you have any idea what I'll go through if people find out I was the one who introduced a thief into their midst?"

You'd have robbed them regardless of knowing them or not, but saying that won't do you any favours.

"If merely knowing me is an issue, you're already in trouble," you say instead, and instantly realise it wasn't the correct thing to say either.

"Yes, brat," Avery snarls, eyes flashing. "That is precisely the problem. And right now, I can only see one way to solve it."

"Come on, they don't know who I am yet," you snap, patience running out now that you've already antagonised him anyway. "Turn me in and they'll know for sure that you've been hanging around a criminal."

He scoffs. "I'll plead ignorance, naturally. They have no reason to think I knew anything."

"I'll tell them everything else, then," you vow, because at this point you have nothing left to lose. "Every sordid little detail. They may forgive you for unknowingly associating yourself with a thief, but will your reputation survive word getting out that you approach vulnerable orphans so you have an easy target to groom into the arm candy you want? Into your perfect little sex toy?"

"Whore!" he roars loud enough for you to fear it was heard outside the car, and grabs you by the hair again. "You think you can threaten me?! It'll be my word against a random orphan's, who do you think they'll believe?"

"They may not believe me at first, no," you half-chuckle, half-gasp from the pain. "But once I'm gone and you've found some pretty little socialite to hang off your arm—because it certainly wouldn't do to hang around any more 'random orphans' for a while lest they really start getting suspicious—you know that won't be the end yet."

He opens his mouth to reply, but you don't let him, too incensed to stop now. "It won't be the end, because when that pretty little socialite is sucking your cock in my place, you can bet she'll want to see if those other rumours are true so she can tell her friends. So tell me, sir, when she runs her tongue along the vein under your dick and your eyes roll backward like I said they would, or scrapes her teeth just the tiniest bit against the tip and your hips thrust forward, just like I said they would, who then will they believe?"

For a few seconds, all that's heard inside the car is the sound of your combined laboured breathing. His jaw is clenched so tightly that it'll be a wonder if his teeth are intact after this.

You break the silence first. "Let me go, Avery."

His grip tightens for a moment, before he finally relents. He doesn't speak a word as he turns away from you, switches the ignition on and leaves the parking spot.

"The orphanage?" he asks curtly.

"No," you reply tiredly. "Harvest Street, if it's alright. Need to get some footage deleted as soon as possible."

It's not a request you'd ever risk making normally for many reasons, but these are special circumstances. He hums in acknowledgement, and the rest of the journey is silent.

Finally, Avery parks in an alley close to Harvest Street. The very last part of town that's still respectable, in case there's anyone around to recognise his car.

"Don't tell me where you're going," he says, eyes still staring ahead. "But when you're done, you're coming straight back here. I'll wait."

You grind your teeth, considering your options. He's obviously not happy and you're definitely going to catch hell for earlier, but at least he's not dropping you entirely.

"Twenty minutes, tops," you finally say, and he only nods in reply.

You're back in fifteen. Landry had cringed when you told him about the footage, and luckily you still had some favours he owed you so it didn't take much at all for him to assure you any traces of you would be gone from both police records and private security cameras by the end of the day.

"Will this happen again?" Avery asks, turning on the car as soon as you're back inside it.

"No." You'll make sure of it.

"You must be rather satisfied with yourself." His voice is calm, but when he glances at you, there's still traces of his previous anger in his gaze.

You really aren't. You got caught on camera and nearly lost both your freedom and your most stable source of income for it, as well as whatever weird relationship you two have outside of the sugar daddy and sugar baby dynamic. Avery is a nasty, angry man who thinks throwing money at people will make them love him and cares far too much about what others will say, but none of that means you want to lose him.

No, you're not satisfied at all. But you can't say any of that without reigniting his temper, and you're already on thin ice. So you stay quiet.

Until you notice you're no longer heading towards the orphanage, that is.

"Where are we going?" you ask before you've had time to make sure no panic would slip into your voice.

"My place," he replies, instantly flooring you. "After all, it wouldn't do for you to rob me next simply because you didn't know it was my house."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"Plus," he continues, voice far too nonchalant in a way that instantly snaps you back into reality. "You didn't think you were getting away with your little tantrum without consequences, did you? You're lucky I don't give up on you once and for all."

He only briefly looks at you before turning back towards the road, eyes full of rage and lust in equal measures which immediately tell you everything you need to know about what your next hours are going to be like. Possibly the next day.

"Come on, babe," you chuckle nervously, hoping to appeal to the lust you saw in hopes that it makes your punishment if only a little bit lighter. "You know whatever little socialite you found after me was never gonna feel as good as I can make you feel."

His eyes flash towards you again, but he doesn't reply—and yet that matters little, because that brief look was enough to know with full certainty that you're right. You both know damn well he doesn't want to lose you either, whether he wants to admit it or not.

Which he won't, but there's no need for it. After all, Avery's weakness has always been and will always be that no matter what words leave or don't leave his mouth, the truth never stays hidden for long once you look into his eyes.

#me? shamelessly reposting this bc the first iteration got no notes in almost 12 hours? it's more likely than you think #then again i did post at an hour absolutely no one was awake regardless of time zone #avery the businessman #avery the businessperson #degrees of lewdity avery #dol avery #degrees of lewdity #dol #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #degrees of lewdity fanfic #dol fanfiction #dol fanfic #for real pls leave at least a like if you've read and enjoyed it or i'll be genuinely really sad #cyra attempts writing

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 months

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Tumblr Story: Two Robins

Note: For @dollya-robinprotector. Because the writing urge hit and I wanted to send you something to destress. Also inspired by this comic you made on your other blog.

An informal sequel to “Reformed Bully,” basically. Because when life throws lemons, I make lemonade out of them. While listening to the song titled, My First Friend.

Stories for friends work like that. :)

-----------------------------

“Another world through a magic door, huh…?”

Vy couldn’t help but sit up in her place at the guest couch and slowly open her eyes at the sound of Robin’s voice. Even if he wasn’t her Robin, Lya’s Robin looked contemplative while taking off his apron in the now-cleaned kitchen, wiping some peanut butter off his hands with a napkin with a quiet hum. “Considering you were able to find a cookie recipe this easy to make,” he said with a soft laugh, “I probably shouldn’t be surprised at magic doors considering my sweetie’s habit of getting involved with a lot of people.”

“And…” Vy internally cursed herself for her low social battery, forcing her voice out as much as she could for Robin to notice, “who says… that habit is… a bad thing when… she still has… you, Robin?”

The brunette man turned to look at her with wide green eyes, the freckles on his face twitching before he smiles. “…That’s true,” he said in a softer voice, hanging his apron up on a nearby rack before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a water bottle. “But if you’re tired, Vy, you can use the couch to rest. You’re the guest here and you didn’t have to play with the kids.” The smile on his face widens to a grin once he walks over to place the water bottle in Vy’s ungloved hands, sitting down next to her soon after. “Though as one of their dads, I’m really grateful for your help.”

“Whitney looked… tired, y’know?” Her grip is shaky on the bottle cap once Vy twists at it to open the beverage, lifting the whole bottle carefully to drink the cold water inside for some energy. “Baking… cookies for the kids… is something I can do… considering they were curious… and I started it… by giving him some…” And sure, Chaldea didn’t have toddlers in its large roster of Servants (baby Caren notwithstanding — she was a unique case) — but her experience with kids thankfully wasn’t null and void. Plus their reactions to the “magic” of the three-ingredient peanut butter cookies were so so cute. Even recapping the water bottle in her hands after drinking half felt like an effort worth doing as she said, “So I… I wanted to help… besides…”

Robin leans forward to rest his chin against his palms, peering into her face with a curious expression. “Besides…?”

“It’s what…” Vy smiled, doing her best to ignore the urge to cough from how weak her voice felt in her throat. “It’s what… my Robin… would’ve done.”

Robin’s green eyes widened again — reminding Vy of Chaldea, of her Robin — before his brows furrowed against his forehead. “…You said that before,” he said in a quieter voice, one of his hands leaving his face in favor of reaching out towards her. Not nearly enough to touch, but close enough to the point of nearly patting her hair. “What is your Robin like, Vy? You said you saw some of him in Whit, which led you to us.”

How to respond… Vy turned her head to look at her lap, fidgeting with a hem of her skirt from the Chaldean Decisive Battle uniform. Her pockets still had some markers and her whiteboard, so—

“Vy…?” Lya’s Robin paused, a hand hovering close to hers once she put the half-full water bottle to the side and subsequently pulled out her writing set, carefully trying to uncap the nearest marker — pink this time, it seemed — to start scribbling a response.

“Energy… low…” Vy said hastily to fill in the silence, shaking her head. “Gonna have to… write to you… Robin… so excuse me.”

Past the shade of her low ponytail, it thankfully didn’t hide the understanding look that dawned on Robin’s face, his newest smile sympathetic towards her as he nodded. “You’re excused.”

“Th-Thankie…” With one grateful gulp of air, Vy wrote as quickly yet as neatly as she could, the words coming naturally to the forefront of her mind. My Robin is my hero.

Turning the board over to let Lya’s Robin read the words had his green eyes widen yet again. “Your hero…?”

Forcing energy into her next nod, Vy turned her whiteboard back to write more. I grew up with him, she “said,” doing her best to school the incoming blush on her face with a tiny cough. Whenever I was sad, whenever I needed to get away, he was there. In his green cape, whistling a tune, and hiding one eye away with his hair. Just by being himself and staying with me.

Vy wasn’t surprised to hear Robin chuckle at the word “hair” on her board once she turned the words toward him. “If your Robin has one eye hidden by his hair, I can understand why you reached out to Whit, then.”

They’re similar in some ways, Whitney and my Robin. Behavior, looks, and voice, aye. Pasts are definitely different. Vy could tell even when having known Whitney for only half of a day. They both were rough around the edges, self-proclaimed “cowards,” easy to cover up their insecurities with lies, but— In the end, Robin inspires me. He makes me feel safe. He helps me keep going. That's why he’s “Big Robin” to me.

“…Does he now?” Lya’s Robin says softly, glancing at the whiteboard before looking at Vy with a sad look to his green eyes. “Is that what a hero is to you, Vy? Someone who can be big and protect you?”

Not even the fatigue stopped Vy from hearing the longing in Robin’s voice, the lingering regret lacing his words, and she immediately turned her whiteboard back to herself to scribble a response.

I didn’t look up to my Robin just because he was big and protected me. Sure, he’s taller than me, and yes, he’s protected me, but he did more than that. Some of her “o”s looked loopy to her tired eye, but she still pointed them to Lya’s Robin for the man to read, tapping the underlined “more” with a face. Being a hero for someone can just be as simple as making sure there’s a home to come back to. A safe place to tuck away and be fine in someone’s arms. And if you’re worrying about that with Lya and your kids, Robin, I think you don’t have to.

“...Huh?” The brunette blinks at her response, and Vy smiles, lowering her whiteboard to the lap of her skirt. She knew if she spoke up, she might not be able to do the same for the rest of the day, but—

“You’re… like my Robin too…” Vy eventually croaked, keeping as much cheer as she could once Lya’s Robin gaped at her. Her hands felt a bit like lead had been injected into them, but it didn’t matter. “You both… worry about… doing enough… for the people you love… and I wanna say… you’re okay.”

“Vy…” Robin whispered, his green eyes betraying his experiences and concerns. Living as an orphan, trying to make ends meet under cruel circumstances, hoping Lya could be happy… A soft choking noise made his voice wobble once he said with shimmering wetness characteristic of tears in his eyes, “You really think so?”

Vy knew that her Robin could and would make that exact same face (especially when she pushed herself too hard). It was why she smiled at Lya’s Robin, raising one shaky gloved hand to pat his frozen outstretched one.

“I… know so. Because… because my Big Robin… taught me small kindnesses… like baking and hugging and helping… matter. So Robin… I think you’re plenty big… for Lya, Whitney, Alex… and your kids too.” A note of longing came out to grace the air between them, a cursory glance at the living room around them confirming to Vy that she was almost envious. “Having a farm like this… being able to safely have a family… not a lot of people can say the same. So… give yourself more credit. You can… be ‘big’ in your own way too. Cooking… and games… and being you.”

Especially when I know how hard it is to fight for the home you want. When the home I want is still out of reach.

It was why Vy decided not to mention the plight of Humanity back in her world, what with the Foreign God and all of her fucking bullshit, in favor of grabbing a wad of tissues from her other skirt pocket to offer to the man sitting next to her. The tears in Robin’s eyes only grew in size against his lashes, but he was smiling once he took the tissues to wipe at his face. “Th-Thank you,” he choked out after a moment, a few droplets falling to the couch cushions between them as he laughed. “I-I didn’t know I needed to hear that before I heard it.”

Vy smiled, vaguely making out a silhouette of pink starting to emerge from the hallway behind Robin before nodding her head. “Aye. That can… definitely happen… and if you can’t believe it… why don’t you ask your sweetie?”

As if on cue, flowers seem to burst open in the air. “Of course, my gentle songbird!” Lya announces her sudden entrance with a tight hug to Robin from behind, falling to her knees and winding her arms around her husband’s neck enough to make the man squeak. “Vy has the right idea!”

“L-Lya…” Robin sniffles, but he looks happier once she’s in the picture, enough for relief to spread throughout Vy’s chest as she slowly scooted a foot or so away to give the happy couple some space. “I… I really am doing enough for you?”

“Of course you are! You’re my Robin!” Lya pouts when resting her chin atop Robin’s brown hair, shaking her head. “I love you more than anything, sweetie!”

“Sweetie…”

Vy closed her eyes to the sight, already feeling a little awkward if not for the lingering fatigue still in her systems, and thus debated stepping out. It didn’t feel right to say anything with Lya already reassuring her hubby better with lots of hugs and kisses beyond her closed eyelids, so…

“Muu…?”

Her back and legs suddenly weren’t on the couch anymore. Vy slowly blinked, feeling mana carry her up into the air and barely hearing Robin’s surprised “whoa” along the way. Her half-full water bottle, whiteboard and assorted markers were floating up with her, highlighted by — by purple runes? It would certainly explain why the floating was very much gentle, but if runes were here—

The corner of her blurry vision past her glasses let her see a single glimpse of violet and green before toned, muscular arms wrapped themselves around the backs of her shoulders and the undersides of her knees, holding her in a princess carry. “I look away for five minutes,” said a familiar voice above her head, “and then I find you’re pushing yourself again, little sparrow. Past another magical door too.”

“All in… good intentions, Big Robin…!” Vy still didn’t stop her Robin from holding her close enough for their foreheads to touch, a weak giggle leaving her lips once the tip of his nose rubs hers. Mint tickled the insides of her nostrils as she said, “Didn’t use… any mana… and was… able to bake… magic peanut butter cookies…!”

“Which, little one,” Skadi interrupted with a soft clapping of her hands to dispel her wand into a flash of light (just so that Lya and her hubby wouldn’t notice, maybe?), chuckling while plucking the floating bottle and whiteboard materials out of the air to keep close to her chest for safekeeping. The smile on her delicate features looked wry and exasperated to oddly match the fond sparkle in her red eyes as she went on with, “you could have done that after taking your daily nap. I may be the last goddess of my original world, but what is it with your luck in finding other worlds without fail?”

Vy glanced up at her Robin — Robin Hood, the May King, her Big Robin — and smiled once he gave her a raised eyebrow. “I just… do?”

Robin sighed and bumped his nose with hers again. “…You worry me too much.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that, little sparrow. Just wander off with me next time.”

A quiet Ahem is what breaks Vy out of the growing warmth and surrounding mana — out of seeing two of her Grailed come through the same door that brought her to Whitney — and turning her head reveals Lya, her Robin, and a faraway Whitney all staring at her with wide eyes. Of course Robin Hood and Scathach-Skadi would stare back.

No one said anything for a good second. The toddlers could’ve woken up, Alex could’ve walked in, and yet no one would speak. That was the kind of stare-off it was.

“…Well,” Lya’s Robin starts first after the sound of a singular water droplet falling echoes from the sink, glancing at Chaldea’s Robin before awkwardly scratching at some of the freckles dotting his nose. “If this green-clothed man is your Big Robin, Vy, I can see why you love him so much. He is tall and has hair that makes me think of Whit.”

“He’s supposed to look like me?” Whitney said in clear disbelief from his place standing a few feet away in the hallway, his crumpled T-shirt and wrinkled sweats making it look like he just helped Alex in putting the toddlers to bed for their daily nap. “He’s green and… glowing.”

“Excuse me for glowing,” Robin Hood bit out past Vy’s head, and Vy did her best to raise a shaky hand to his chest to pat sympathetically. “Being magical makes me sparkly. Not like a vampire, thank god.”

“And I’m the goddess, yet can recognize the Twilight joke. Those books were not the best in regards to late-night reading.” Skadi chuckles again, and Vy glances at her just in time to catch the softer look that brushes her features as she bows her head towards the farm denizens still standing in front of them. “Excuse us for the late introductions. My name is Skadi, and the man carrying Vy next to me is our Robin. We just came through the nearest door together to take Vy home.”

“So she does have a home,” Lya muttered, enough to make both Robins and Whitney stare at her. “Was the ‘magic’ in the peanut butter cookies real, then?”

“Who knows?” Robin shrugs, but Vy knows he’s relaxing once he bounces her a little in his arms, just to adjust his grip and let her rest her head against his shoulder. The No Face May King was soft in feel against her ear, enough to be a borderline pillow and nearly make her forget him saying, “Vy — our little sparrow, has a habit of making magic. Still gotta take her back to recharge, though. So thanks for holding onto her until we could show up.”

Whitney scoffs under his breath, muttering something that Vy can’t hear, but she can see the brunette Robin lightly elbow him just past the No Face May King’s shadow as Chaldea’s Robin turns on his heel to face the door that started this little journey. Compared to its visage from her room, the magical entrance wasn’t glowing as much as before, the silver handle appearing muted to contrast the bright green grass outside and the glowing of the Grailed beside her. But—

Skadi barely gets a chance to say her name before Vy reaches out towards the nearest thing she could reach — that being Robin’s mantle collar, to tug at and eventually gesture back towards the farm denizens. “Let me…” she croaks, “say bye?”

Robin stares at her. Vy stares back. It’s not even that long, but she tries, and after a few seconds, Robin sighs, turning on his heel one more time. “Just this once,” she hears him murmur softly. Skadi opens the door behind him once he does, but it doesn’t matter.

Even with her blurring vision, Vy can still make out the primary colors of Lya’s pink hair, of her Robin’s green eyes, and Whitney’s black tattoos. And with the rest of her strength, Vy raises one shaky gloved hand to wave at them.

“Bye bye… thankie for the conversations… Whitney… Robin… if the kids ask… I’ll be back… with more cookies for them… and Lya… and Alex…! Soon soon…!”

Chaldea’s Robin scoffs softly above her head, but he still carefully walks her back into Novum Chaldea through the doorway Skadi kept open for them. And once the door closes behind them and darkness starts to overtake her vision in favor of sleep, Vy can do nothing but lean against her Robin and wonder if Lya’s Robin and Whitney ever waved back.

It was a nice dream to ponder about if they did.

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