Prompt Meme: NSFW Prompts

[wotanon]

General Rules:

1. Don’t be a dick.

2. No kink shaming. People like what they like.

Requesting Rules:

1. Submit a prompt here for nsfw fics. You can do this on or off anon.

2. Please include the characters or pairings you want to see in the subject header, as well as a kink or situation.

Example: Pythia/Exael; college roommate AU

3. In the body of the post, you can go more into what you want from the fill, but try to give the writer some wiggle room.

Example: I’d love it if this fic could be fluffy and cute. Bonus points if Exael asks Pythia on a date to the ice-skating rink during the winter holidays!

4. One request per submission, please! If you have more than one request, post them separately.

5. Try to warn for any potentially triggering content.

6. Don’t forget to fill out requests, too!

Filling Rules:

1. Please reply directly to the request with your fill. Fics and art are both okay!

2. Please include the word Fill and the title of your fill in the subject header of the reply. If the fill is multiple parts, indicated the part number.

Example: Fill: And They Were Roommates (1/3)

3. Please warn for any potential triggering content.

4. Try to make sure you’re giving the requester what they wanted. If someone asks for arranged marriage, don’t spring vore on them without warning, and vice versa.

5. If you have a great idea that you really want to run with, but it includes other kinks or situations that were unasked for, you can reply to the person who requested and ask if that’s okay before you start writing.

6. When you’re finished filling, please consider submitting your fic as fanmail to the involved characters!

Comments

Chain of Command (1/1)

[(Anonymous)]

It was the kind of game where the mood afterward is celebratory not because nothing bad happened, but because it could have been so much worse. Despite Griffin's best efforts, somehow there's still an army's worth of spaghetti, and Yvette was kind enough to stop by with a generous number of bottles, so friends have been popping in and out all night.

The party's winding down, though; Nitro turned in for bed, Gold left with B, and Nemesis was last seen disappearing into her room with Req. Shrike tucked a blanket over Griffin an hour ago, who once again has not nearly learned his limits. Shishiou has wandered off yet again, probably to turn up sitting upside-down on the ceiling somewhere, so it's only Harpy just finishing puttering around inside, cleaning things up.

The three older adults have retired to the patio with a bottle to share; Cardigan leans their head on Amaranth's shoulder as Shrike refills their glass.

"Come sit over here," says Cardigan, patting the space next to them as Shrike turns to return to her seat. "You don't have to exile yourself just because we're on this bench. Right, Amaranth?"

Amaranth smiles, her expression wry. "Honestly, we shared a room for a week; I shouldn't think I wouldn't mind."

"If you say so," says Shrike, and reaches to fetch her glass from her former seat before joining them. "I don't want to impose."

"You're never imposing," says Cardigan, as she sits, and snakes an arm around her waist.

Shrike flushes a little bit, and not just from the alcohol; she's probably the most sober person here. Not that she minds the physical affection, but having a bit of a cuddle is a little different when Amaranth’s here. She feels like she ought to be asking permission, or something.

But, on the other hand, she's tired, and a little tipsy, and it's been a long stressful day, so she leans into it. It's nice, being held.

Amaranth looks over at Shrike with a little concern etched into features. "It's a little warm still to be wearing a jacket, isn't it?" They're right by the fire, too, but Shrike had sort of been banking on no one asking about it.

Cardigan's attention is on her suddenly, too. "Those markings aren't still bothering you, are they?"

Shrike curls in on herself a little, and shakes her head. "They're not getting worse."

"Shrike," says Cardigan, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. "Take the jacket off."

The thought of refusing doesn't really cross her mind; she just shrugs out of her uniform-issue jacket, leaving only the sleeveless undershirt. The black marks wind around her wrists and up her arms; one disappears below the undershirt's neckline.

"This isn't all of it, but it hasn't gotten worse—"

Amaranth reaches out to run her hand across the lines on Shrike's arm, and Shrike almost flinches away, but the touch is gentle, and warm on her unnaturally cool skin. "It does seem like it's just markings…"

"Seizing the opportunity to touch those muscles, Amaranth?" quips Cardigan, though they're taking the opportunity to prod suspiciously at the marks as well, and Shrike feels her cheeks flush.

"Insolence, Cardigan," Amaranth retorts, dryly, raising both her eyebrows. "I'll have to reprimand you for that. Shrike at least knows how to behave in the presence of a superior officer."

"At least?" Shrike mutters.

"Well," says Cardigan, batting their eyelashes up at Amaranth, "you know I'll gladly submit to your discipline. Sir."

It seems like it's high time to make her exit. Shrike moves to make her excuses about heading to bed and stand, but Cardigan's hand snags her wrist.

She looks over, blinking, not quite understanding.

Amaranth leans forward, chin in her palm. "Why don't you stay this time, soldier?"

---

It'd be a lie to say Shrike doesn't know why she agreed to this; she's good at taking the path of least resistance, and when that path once in a blue moon leads to something she wanted but thought was impossible—well.

"Waiting for orders?" says Amaranth, over her shoulder, unwinding her light wrap shawl; they've all gone back to Cardigan's room for privacy, but now that they're all here, Shrike's frozen next to the door, unsure what to do with herself. "I suppose you… do seem like the type who might like that."

"Amaranth," Cardigan says, with a gentle tone of exasperation.

Amaranth looks back at Shrike. "Am I wrong?"

Shrike shifts her balance a little bit, from one foot to the other. "It's—no, you're right, actually," she says, after a moment. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and looks away. "It's, um… actually kind of relaxing?"

She's not sure if Cardigan is going to argue, considering Cardigan's push for her to have things like opinions, but they seem to accept that explanation, at least, with a smile. "People like what they like in the bedroom. I've definitely seen more niche interests."

"Well, while I finish getting out of these layers—" Amaranth loosens the tie from her hair, and slipping out of the straps of her dress. "Cardigan, please have this soldier strip down and submit for inspection."

Cardigan grins, and turns their attention back to Shrike. "Well, Shrike, you heard the general."

Shrike feels a little like her heart skipped a beat, and goes lightheaded for a second. She can feel the flush spreading across her body, but for better or for worse, the only motivator stronger to her than embarrassment has always been being asked to do something.

Her jacket's slung over her right arm; she loosely folds it before setting it down on the floor next to her feet. Methodically, she strips out of her clothing, setting it down into a neat pile topped by the coil of her belt, the military tidiness drilled into for—who knows how long, but long enough to be so second nature she did it from her first day here.

"Hm." Cardigan circles her, wearing a thoughtful expression as they scan her from head to to. They reach out to touch the black lines themselves, tracing them from her wrist to her shoulder—and then this time over the ones that run across and between her breasts, three loops around.

Shrike shivers at the touch, even as Cardigan carries on inspecting the rest of her skin. Cardigan runs their hands over her scars, with a particular fascination. "You really weren't exaggerating when you said you had a lot of scars, back when you were new." They run a fingernail over the largest one, the gruesome line over her midsection, with almost reverent interest. "Do you know how you got this one?"

"Not yet—Commander," she adds, borrowing Intensity's nickname. "Though—I doubt it'll be a story with a happy ending."

Across the room, Amaranth finishes undressing, shaking her long black hair free; Shrike sucks in a breath as she turns around, lean muscled and lovely, the scar that runs almost across her entire front shining slightly. Amaranth crosses the room, and slips an arm around Cardigan's waist, pulling them close. "Well," she says. "What's your evaluation—" A slight smirk springs to her lips. "Commander."

"Fit for duty, ma'am," says Cardigan, sketching a loose salute.

"Well, I'll be the final judge of that," says Amaranth, reaching out to run a hand down Shrike's jawline; Shrike almost jumps at the touch. "It's your turn to strip down, Cardigan."

Cardigan doesn't waste time getting to work stripping out of their own uniform, but Shrike's distracted; Amaranth teases little touches down her jaw and neck and over her arms and breasts, and then gives a rather firm squeeze to her ass that makes her squeak slightly, and she can hear Amaranth chuckle from behind her.

"Yes," says Amaranth, tracing a fingernail up Shrike's spine in a way that makes her both stand at attention and shudder, "well done, soldier." She turns her head. "Cardigan?"

"Ready when you are."

Cardigan is, well—perfect, with a lean athlete's physique and skin unmarked but for the souvenirs of recent games; it occurs to her that despite sharing a dorm, it's not close quarters like she's been used to in the military, where there's barely any privacy at all between comrades, so she's never seen Cardigan unclothed before.

They look like they're waiting for questions—perhaps used to it—so she just says, with a slight smile playing on her lips, "Perfect as anticipated, Commander."

Amaranth's hands come to rest at her waist. "It seems we're all prepared. Cardigan, come sit with me, if you would," she says, crossing to the bed, and gently leading Shrike along with her. "And Shrike—"

"Yes, ma'am," Shrike says, quietly.

"If it's a task you feel equal to—I'd have you kneel and take care of the Commander."

It's an out, if it's not to her taste—but Shrike takes a deep breath, and then nods crisply. "You can count on me."

Amaranth pulls Cardigan to her, as Cardigan takes the seat next to her, on the bed, and brings them in to an immediate passionate kiss, lips parted, one hand combed into their hair. Shrike beats down a flush of embarrassment—after all, they've rather crossed the boundary of public propriety, now, and kneels before Cardigan's knees.

Shrike takes their shaft in hand, stroking lightly at it with one hand to familiarize herself; Cardigan is warm, and their skin is soft. She brushes the pad of her thumb over the tip, where a little bead of moisture has begun to form, and above her, Cardigan makes a small muffled sound of surprise, and one of their knees jerks upwards. Responsive, certainly.

Leaning forward, she licks her lips once over, and takes the head in her mouth, circling it with her tongue. Cardigan's still muffled by the kiss, but makes a low moan in the back of their throat, their hands digging into the soft skin of Amaranth's breasts.

She takes that as a signal that she's doing all right; she runs her tongue over the head once more, and slides forward to take more of Cardigan into her mouth, hand loosely gripping the base of the shaft. Cardigan's hips start to twitch, slightly, into her movements, at first in time with her strokes, and then pushing the tempo forward.

Next to her, Cardigan's free hand slides down between Amaranth's legs, stroking upwards over her folds with a slightly wet sound, and Amaranth gasps; Cardigan's hand works a quick rhythm over her clit, and her knee knocks against Cardigan's, in her haste to spread her legs wider.

Shrike's patient—perhaps to a fault—but even she can feel the heat and wetness between her thighs as the tension between all of them ramps up. Cardigan's cock pushes harder back into her mouth, and she can tell they're close; she tightens her grip, giving firmer and firmer strokes with her hand as well.

Cardigan finally shudders bodily, and a warmth fills Shrike's mouth; she swallows hard, and tapers off her strokes and pulls back. Amaranth's kissing from their forehead down to their jaw, and smooths the hair back from their face.

"Shrike," says Cardigan, their voice impressively clear for just having come off of that, "come on up here."

She unfolds, stretches a little, and then obliges; she's barely just perched on the bed when Cardigan leans over and kisses her on the mouth.

"Oh," she says, except the sound is swallowed by Cardigan's lips on hers, and then they're both falling forward into a pile with Amaranth.

Amaranth tangles her legs with Cardigan's, drawing them close together; "They won't be entirely satisfied with just one round," she explains, "and of course, I can't let them have you all to themselves. That really wouldn't be fair at all."

Cardigan comes up for air, and Amaranth takes the opportunity to scissor their legs together, to grind her sex against theirs; with one hand, she pulls Shrike closer to her, too. Shrike realizes somewhere in here her braid's come undone, and Amaranth weaves her hands through the now-loose, bone white hair contrasted against her own rich black tresses.

"The kissing game was fine," she says, "but it really is a little better in private, isn't it?" And Shrike can't help but agree, as Amaranth pulls her in for a kiss of her own, firm and confident, nipping deftly at her lower lip in a way that makes Shrike feel boneless.

Amaranth is not the sort of person to be rough, but she is aggressive, and as she and Cardigan thrust against each other with more and more intensity, she pulls Shrike tighter and tighter to her, moaning into her kisses. Shrike's tensed like a wire on a harp; between Cardigan and Amaranth, she wants so badly to be touched, and slips her own hand between her legs to work off a bit of the tension to find that she's already soaking.

Finally Amaranth cries out, and Cardigan groans not long after; their movements slow, and Amaranth lies back, propped against the back wall. "Mm," she manages. "Well. The work isn't quite done, so good thing we've got stamina."

"No, it isn't," Cardigan agrees. "After all, good service in the line of duty needs to be rewarded. Right, Shrike?"

"Oh," says Shrike, as Amaranth moves to press her down onto the bed.

Cardigan's at her side, running their hands across her skin—this time more than just light touches, hands dragging over her breasts in a way that makes her back arch. Amaranth stretches out, straddling Shrike from above—lips at the tender skin of Shrike's neck, and one hand between her legs. She runs her middle and index fingers the length of Shrike's slit, and begins teasing circles around her clit.

"Ah—ah, that's—" Shrike gasps, but she's not even sure how she wanted to finish the thought, and it's gone. Her lips part, and she feels like she can't catch her breath. Cardigan's mouth closes over her nipple, tongue teasing at the peak, and she can feel Amaranth's feather-light kisses along her jaw, occasionally punctuated with the scrape of teeth, and it's overwhelming.

She feels like she could come from just this—her breaths come as low moans now, her legs spread wide, her forehead slicked with sweat. Someone—maybe Cardigan?—teases at her entrance with a finger, and slides one, then two inside.

Shrike gasps, and her hips buck harder at feeling them inside her, at the brush of fingers across a sensitive spot. Her gasping rises to practically a scream as she comes, shuddering, grasping at Amaranth's shoulders above her.

They all collapse together into one sweat-soaked pile, Amaranth on one side of her and Cardigan on the other—Cardigan wrapping an arm around her, and Amaranth petting her hair as her breaths even out and she manages to collect herself enough to speak again.

"Well," says Amaranth, sounding pleased. "I hope you'd say we exceeded expectations tonight as well."

"Top marks," Shrike manages. "I'm not sure it could get any better, honestly."

"Well," says Cardigan, brightly, "that sounds like a challenge for next time."

Re: Chain of Command (1/1)

[(Anonymous)]

BELATEDLY this is ok for fanmail if you would have gotten this