Summer Mercedes with Bi & Trans flag bracelets
Alt + transparent versions under the cut, free to use but likes/reblogs are appreciated <3
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My editing tag!
Summer Mercedes with Bi & Trans flag bracelets
Alt + transparent versions under the cut, free to use but likes/reblogs are appreciated <3
Got a request? Drop ‘em here!
My editing tag!
I get the feeling that edelgard is still cute when she cries
kind of a sequel to my Dimitri post of him listening to Phil Collins.....
Finally got the fe3h art book
Henri: Here's some milkshake for my sweet dear brother!
Hubert: wAit ThiS is sO sWeET *proceeds to enter a sugar rush and destroys the whole dining with his erratic behaviour*
Henri: Maybe 4 kilos of sugar and cream was too much...
I'm a bit rusty so I asked my friends to give me some fe3h ships to draw :D
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Relationship: Hannestra (Hanneman von Essar/Marquis Vestra) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (see AO3 warnings)
Summary: In Imperial Year 1159, young Crestologist Hanneman von Essar’s only focus is his research. That is, until Walther von Vestra appears in his office. Suddenly, Hanneman finds himself exposed to an entirely new set of stimuli: mystery, politics, and—most improbable of all—love.
Prologue/Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Legit sorry to Claude fans for IntSys giving you the most meaningless slop of a route. Literally just Silver Snow 2 but without like... a reason to work for the church. At least you got God Shattering Star and Murder GILF.
Headcanon where Felix proposes to Annette à la this video, and Sylvain is the cousin and Ingrid is the husband dragging her away.
*before the second attack on the monastery*
Byleth: “Evacuate the village! Engage all defenses!”
Byleth: *points at Dimitri* “And get this man a hair tie.”
I despise this man and his hair
I did the battle at gronder field 2 electric boogaloo last night and I'm still SO upset over Dimitri 😩 why would they DO that 😭 I know I'm playing Claude's route but holy FUCK was that brutal
Nothing makes Sylvain hotter than Felix fencing.
Part Three of 'Something Something, Fate' Universe, which includes Love, Mistunderstood and Instinctual. Those aren't necessary to enjoy the porny food. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and follow me here on Twitter!
There’s an issue, and it’s Felix Fraldarius standing right before him, tightly clad in his fencing gear.
It shouldn’t be so enthralling. Probably isn’t to most. It isn’t very sexy to be covered from toe to neck in the world’s thickest cotton. Unless you’re Sylvain because then it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. The kind of shit that haunts his worst dreams.
Or best, depending on how tired he is and how much he wants to jerk off.
It isn’t the uniform. Not really. It’s Felix and the way he wears it so commandingly. How he steps back and forth, striking out with his sabre, landing point after point. The way that it frames his perfect ass when he performs a lunge.
Mouthwatering shit, truly.
Felix wins the practice match, as expected. When he pulls his helmet off, he’s sweaty and flushed pink. Sylvain wants to devour him. He just might.
“Hey, how much time before the tournament actually starts?”
“About an hour--”
“Perfect,” says Sylvain. “I only need ten minutes.” Then he pauses, looking Felix up and down. “Maybe five.”
Felix’s gaze narrows, immediately suspicious. “Sylvain,” he starts to warn, but he stops when Sylvain grabs him by the wrist and tugs him towards the emergency stairwell at the corner of the gym.
The door’s locked, much to his aggravation. So, Sylvain thinks. It’s a college gym, nothing fancy. Outfitted for the day’s fencing tournament. It isn’t empty; quite a few people are milling about, prepping for the match and getting their things in order.
Then Sylvain settles on something that just might work and he smiles widely. Felix is going to hate it.
“What are you--”
“This way,” says Sylvain, pulling him along. Felix follows without complaint. And then he sees the bleachers and does nothing but.
“Oh, come on,” says Sylvain. “Live a little.”
“Live a little? I’m supposed to be preparing for a fencing tournament!”
“Which is why you need to relax.” Sylvain reaches out to brush his bangs back from his forehead. “You certainly haven’t lately, between practice and finals.”
“We’re students,” says Felix. “You can’t expect to fuck me all the time.”
“No, but I can dream.” Felix rolls his eyes and moves to pull away, but Sylvain stops him. “Did your stretching help?”
Felix looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What?”
“What about your warm-up? Do you feel all loosey-goosey and ready to win? Are your limbs like noodles and your mind clear and focused?”
Felix takes way too long to respond. Doesn’t resist any further when Sylvain pulls him underneath the bleachers when no one’s looking. It’s dark and musty, but there’s enough light to see exactly what he’s doing.
“See, I know you like the back of my hand,” says Sylvain, pulling him close. A hand finds Felix’s face, tipping his mouth upwards. “I can tell when you’re frustrated.”
“I think that your definition of frustrated is different than mine,” says Felix obstinately.
“No, I don’t think so.” Sylvain swoops down for a kiss and Felix responds eagerly despite his earlier protestation. Felix is the one whose mouth opens first, tongue slipping out and seeking Sylvain’s. Their teeth clack together, hurried because they know they don’t have much time before someone comes looking for Felix.
“You fuck me a few times and now you think you know all my tells,” says Felix, clearly teasing. He fingers at Sylvain’s collar, undoing the first two buttons. Slips his fingers in to splay across the skin there, scratching through his chest hair.
“That’s because I do,” says Sylvain, moving to press a kiss into Felix’s neck. Nipping at him just barely with his teeth.
Felix steps back and leans against the wall, pulling Sylvain along by his shirt. “You said ten minutes,” he says, and Sylvain’s eyes light up like he’s a kid in a candy shop.
“I think it’d be enough.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Oh. Oh, that’s what kind of mood Felix is in, competitive to a fault. They’ve made love a few times by now, just enough that Sylvain’s gotten an itch for it that he can never fully scratch. But nothing quite like this. Felix is issuing a challenge that he knows Sylvain will answer to. Down and dirty, and frankly-- surprisingly public.
This is more in Sylvain’s wheelhouse. Felix has surprised him.
“Yes,” says Sylvain, licking across the shell of Felix’s ear. “Question is, what do I get if I win?”
“My eternal praise,” says Felix. Not entirely deadpan as usual. There’s a slight hitch to his voice as he thinks about all the terrible, corruptible things that Sylvain can and will do to him.
Sylvain sinks to his knees and grips at Felix’s thighs. “How lucky we are that fencing suits are two pieces,” he says, already pulling at where Felix’s jacket is fastened between his legs.
“You’re absurdly quick at that,” murmurs Felix when Sylvain pulls the buckle apart.
“Desperation,” says Sylvain. “The best motivator.”
Felix snorts, and then hisses lightly when Sylvain leans forward and bites at his hip through the thick cotton, teasing. “Ten minutes then,” says Felix, reaching down to cradle Sylvain’s face between his hands. “That’s how long I’ll give you to prove yourself.”
“Otherwise what?” asks Sylvain. “You’ll head back out there completely hard?”
“Yes.” Sylvain looks up at him and Felix looks back down, smirking haughtily. He would, thinks Sylvain. The bastard. It wouldn’t be comfortable while wearing a cup but Felix sometimes gets off on weird shit.
Sylvain’s nimble fingers undo Felix’s trousers and slides them down in record time. Then he reaches to cup Felix’s backside through the tight polyester of his underthings. “I wasn’t expecting such tight briefs--”
“They’re compression shorts.”
Sylvain peels those off too, sliding them halfway down Felix’s legs. Then he pauses, mouth quirking into a smirk as he looks back up. “What’s this?”
Felix huffs, looking away. “Fencing is a contact sport. Did you expect me to not wear a cup?”
Sylvain can’t help but tease him about it. “Who’s the jockstrap now?” he asks, thinking about the fond insult that Felix used to peg him with.
“Two minutes,” says Felix irately. Sylvain must look confused because he continues with, “By gawking at me you’ve already wasted nearly two minutes.”
“Felix, you aren’t seriously timing me, are you?”
Felix is watching him seriously, though, his face flushed and his eyes half-lidded in lust as he regards him. Sylvain swallows thickly before turning back to Felix’s crotch, fingers sliding underneath the protective layer of the cup.
He probably isn’t, truth be told. Timing him, that is. Still, there’s a thrill to it, the kind of thing that adds a little spice to their romps. It fuels Sylvain, makes pleasure settle in the pit of his stomach. The idea of undoing Felix underneath the stands where anyone could find him.
Felix isn’t usually quiet in moments in moments of pleasure. It’ll prove to be interesting.
Sylvain pulls the jockstrap down, revealing Felix’s cock. He’s already half-hard and twitches slightly under Sylvain’s hawk-eyed gaze. Sylvain’s dreamt about this before, the absolute sordid debauchery of this kind of thing.
Never thought Felix would agree to it, but it has been a frustrating couple of weeks in regards to spending time together. Specifically this kind of thing, in a variety of ways. Sylvain misses being wrung dry, Felix leaving behind nothing by a dry husk. And the quiet morning afters where Felix is unusually soft and brings Sylvain coffee in bed.
Felix’s dick, as always, looks perfect. Entirely delectable. Smells like sweat and Felix which isn’t a deal-breaker. Sylvain wants to swallow it down without further ado, so he does. Wraps his mouth around it, fingers curled around the base as his tongue slides along the underside as he coaxes it to full hardness.
“Fuck,” hisses Felix. One hand still cradles Sylvain’s jaw, but the other moves to grab at his hair in a tight grip, fingers curling into the auburn tresses.
Sylvain wishes they could fuck properly but it’s a terrible time for that, right before a match. Later, he thinks. After the tournament he’ll whisk Felix away, won’t take no for an answer. He’ll treat him right as he opens him up, stretching him on his fingers, then he’ll pound Felix into the mattress like he’s forgotten what it feels like.
He moans around Felix’s cock at the thought, relishing the feel of his length thick in his mouth. Puts all the work that he can into bobbing his head along Felix’s dick, his hand making quick work of the part that his mouth doesn’t cover.
“What’re you thinking about?” asks Felix quietly. The hand on Sylvain’s chin moves so he can drag his thumb across Sylvain’s lips, watching intently where Sylvain’s mouth is wrapped tightly around his cock.
Sylvain pulls off, licking up the side of his dick again, jerking the rest of it with his hand. “Fucking you into the mattress,” he says with no amount of embarrassment. His tongue licks over the tip of Felix’s cock, pressing against the slit there. “Later tonight, of course.”
Felix moans softly, barely catches it by covering his mouth. His other hand still grips Sylvain by the hair, yanking tight enough that it’s just this side of painful. Sylvain loves it, loves him, adores him-- and he says so. Presses the words against the warm skin of Felix’s cock, licking his affection right across his length.
“What if I fuck your mouth instead?” asks Felix quietly. His hands have moved again, grasping Sylvain by the cheeks.
“Yes,” says Sylvain, brain short-circuiting at the idea of Felix losing himself in the feeling of his mouth. “Goddess, Felix. Yes.”
Felix hums at that, looking down at Sylvain dangerously as he hooks a thumb into his lips, tugging them open. “Open up.” It’s a small command but it packs power that rakes across Sylvain, tingling down his spine.
And Sylvain does, of course. Nips at Felix’s thumb then spreads his mouth wide. Sylvain’s hands grip Felix by the thighs. Felix guides Sylvain’s face back to his cock and Sylvain welcomes it.
It’s utterly intoxicating. The way that Felix presses into his mouth, the way that the muscles of his thighs are tightly coiled, and how they contract underneath Sylvain’s hands. Sylvain’s grip shifts slightly, one hand reaching around to palm at Felix’s ass, his fingers digging into the meaty muscle.
When Felix slides in deep, the tip of his cock nestled into the back of Sylvain’s throat, he moans. Looks up to watch Felix as he does so, to see how he responds to the soft vibrations of Sylvain’s sounds. Felix’s expression is flushed and slightly pinched, entirely at odds with the gentle way that he brushes back Sylvain’s bangs.
“Perfect,” says Felix, pulling his hips back before pressing into Sylvain’s mouth again. “You always do what I ask, don’t you?”
Always. Sylvain’s an absolute whore for Felix’s whims; how he shows up at his door on late nights and demands for Sylvain to fuck him, or even here, underneath the bleachers, demanding that he fuck Sylvain’s mouth instead.
Even if pulling Felix back here was Sylvain’s idea in the first place.
Sylvain does his best to accept his thrusts, sliding his tongue across the underside of Felix’s cock. Felix’s movements stutter and then stop, and Sylvain knows that he’s already so close. Ten minutes had been a generous bet because Sylvain originally said he could probably make do with five.
He’s right on track.
Sylvain makes his next move, settling onto Felix’s cock the furthest that he can. Swallowing him entirely down. Felix is relatively average, but even average cocks aren’t easy to take like this, and Sylvain’s eyes water slightly once his nose presses into the coarse hair at the base of Felix’s dick.
“Fuck,” says Felix in a hiss that’s way too loud for semi-public sex. Thankfully, the arena is full of noise; other fencers and newscasters, and people wandering about as they prep for the tournament. Sylvain can’t help but peer up at Felix through his lashes, moaning around his cock.
“Look at you,” croons Felix, scratching his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, pulling lightly at the curls. Trying his best to not buck into the heat of Sylvain’s mouth. “Taking me so well. All the way down, like you were made for this.”
Sylvain never thought he was made for anything until the first time he’d slept with Felix. He’d known then that this was where belonged-- at the behest of Felix and his whims, be that fucking him within an inch of his life, or dropped to his knees and swallowing Felix down like a man starved.
He moans around Felix in response, at the way Felix’s words make his spine tingle. Trust him to talk dirty like this, somewhere so public, where they’re practically on display. Felix’s words are hushed whispers, likely unable to be heard over the sounds of tournament prep around them, but it’s still enough to set Sylvain’s nerves on fire. Just the idea of getting caught, of someone finding him, prostrated before Felix, Sylvain’s mouth stuffed full with his cock, his face ruddy and red with pleasure.
Sylvain’s cock is hard in his jeans and he palms over it desperately. And Felix sees him, watches him through a half-lidded gaze that drops straight to where Sylvain’s hand is.
“Hands off,” says Felix. Sylvain whines around his dick, a pitiful sounding noise, he knows. Felix caresses his jaw gently as he grinds against his mouth, and Sylvain pulls off, sputtering with coughs.
“Felix,” he begs wantonly, squeezing Felix’s ass tightly with one hand while the other hangs above his own crotch, hesitant.
“No,” says Felix in return, “I like you this way too much. So desperate to please me. So close to the edge but never quite there. What was it you said earlier? Something about later tonight?” Felix thumbs at Sylvain’s mouth, and Sylvain sucks the digit in, lapping his tongue around it.
“It’s a nice thought,” continues Felix before guiding Sylvain’s mouth back to his cock. “You fucking me into the mattress, just like I’m about to fuck your mouth.”
“Goddess, the shit that you say,” says Sylvain, pressing his forehead against Felix’s thigh, eyes slipping closed as he just imagines it.
“Only a few minutes left,” says Felix, reminding him of their ridiculous game. “Now, do your worst.”
Sylvain does. He pulls Felix back into his mouth with renewed vigor, head bobbing along his length as he does his best to please. Felix is sinful in the way that he sounds, soft little pants, the occasional moan that he has to cut off with his hand. The way that he bites at his lip, watching as his cock disappears right into Sylvain’s mouth.
It’s nearly enough, thinks Sylvain. He can probably come just like this, entirely untouched as Felix thrusts shallowly into his mouth. A little bit forgiving despite his heavy and lust-ridden words earlier. Sylvain’s hands find Felix’s ass again, fingers digging into his cheeks, pulling at them.
Spreading them just slightly, fingers slipping between his crack. Sylvain doesn’t press into him, of course. He isn’t stupid. Felix has bouts to fence and a tournament to win, and he’d never forgive Sylvain if his horniness lost him a title.
But Sylvain isn’t a saint either; sometimes he can play his own cruel little games. Sylvain sucks Felix’s cock deep into his throat again, and a finger finds his hole. Circles it gently, prods as a small little reminder of what can happen later that night.
Felix’s thighs go taut, the muscles straining underneath Sylvain’s grip. “Shit,” he murmurs, fucking into Sylvain’s mouth with a little more force than intended. Sylvain relishes it though, intoxicated entirely by the heavy weight of Felix’s cock deep in his throat, and the taste of him.
And, you know, the whole being in public thing.
Felix tries to warn him. Does his best, blurting too-quiet words and then what sounds like his name. Sylvain never relents in his touch, never stopped sucking at him or teasing his hole. Keeps eye contact the entire time as he watches from underneath his eyelashes.
This could be the end of him, he thinks, watching Felix as he comes like this, his dick nestled as deep as he can be in Sylvain’s mouth. The low tenor of his voice as he moans, unable to choke it back or cover it up entirely. Though not as practiced as he’d like, Sylvain swallows Felix’s come with little more than a few coughs.
Sylvain’s unbearably hard in his pants, cock aching so bad he feels like it’s going to combust. But he’ll be good for Felix, he won’t touch himself.
Felix is still holding his face softly, thumbing over Sylvain’s cheekbones as he sighs contently. His legs shake with strain as he tries to stand straight on loose limbs. “I swear to the Goddess,” he finally says, brushing Sylvain’s bangs back. “You are the worst influence.”
It’s said with fondness though, and Sylvain gleams back, smiling wide before opening his mouth to show Felix that he’s swallowed all of his spend.
“Filthy,” says Felix. “But entirely expected, when it comes to you.”
Sylvain stands and Felix grabs him by the shirt, pulling him closer. Kisses him sweetly this time, not caring that he just spilled himself into Sylvain’s mouth. The kiss lingers, Sylvain reaching up to comb through Felix’s hair.
When they part, Felix laughs. “You look like you’ve been up to no good.”
There isn’t a doubt that he looks fucked out with swollen hips and his hair a mess. “We’ve been up to no good,” says Sylvain cheekily.
Felix hums at that. “You played dirty, you know.”
“Still took less than ten minutes. What’s my prize?”
Felix doesn’t immediately answer. He only looks at Sylvain, his gaze taking on a strangely loving tone to it. His hands move to right Sylvain’s collar, doing the buttons up before pressing the collar flat.
“I have a tournament to win,” he finally says, stepping back. He begins to dress, pulling up his garments as he tries to compose himself. Doing his best to look like he wasn’t just blown to hell and back.
It’s entertaining to Sylvain, the lengths that Felix will go to seem like he’s infallible to others.
“Felix,” he says, reaching out to grasp at his wrist. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”
Felix presses close, pulling Sylvain down so he can whisper into his ear. “Oh, I’m not,” he says, reaching out to cup Sylvain’s raging boner. He’s still hard and aching, still wholly unsatisfied in that regard. Felix gives him a promising squeeze, fingers ghosting along the tented edge of his cock. “We’ll finish this later, I promise.”
Sylvain huffs at the comment, dropping his head to Felix’s shoulder, whining softly at the touch. “Felix, I can’t sit through your matches like this.”
“You will,” says Felix. And he’s right, of course. Sylvain will do anything that Felix asks, especially if it means watching him compete. There’s little more beautiful than Felix doing what he does best, and that’s fencing.
“Goddess, I love you,” says Sylvain, unable to help himself at the moment.
Felix doesn’t say it back, just kisses him again, but it’s enough. It’s all that Sylvain needs.
Well, that and a moment to calm down the raging storm that’s brewing in his pants.
Felix’s name is called over the loudspeaker. They both pause and Sylvain laughs. Felix sighs, combing a hand through his hair. “Do I look presentable?”
“No, but you rarely do,” says Sylvain. Mostly because Felix doesn’t give a shit about his appearance.
Felix double checks his uniform and with one last appraising look to Sylvain’s crotch, he says, “Don’t forget-- Not until tonight.”
“Right-o,” says Sylvain. “Hands off the meat--”
To his credit, Sylvain does fantastic. Waits a few minutes for his erection to go away. Manages to sit through the entire tournament without popping another one-- which in itself is a masterful feat.
When Felix finds him after winning yet another title, he’s sweaty and flushed, eyes smoldering. He’s riding the high of his victory so hard that he actually kisses Sylvain in the middle of the arena. In front of everyone, who gawk at them before politely turning away.
Felix usually avoids all PDA beyond the occasional hand-holding.
“Sylvain,” says Felix, his voice hoarse.
“Alright,” says Sylvain right back. His cock’s already hard and waiting. “Yes, yes, alright. Let’s get you home.”
It’s a hurried affair, one that takes a little too long. They’re barely into Felix’s dorm before Sylvain’s shoved against the wall. Felix returns his earlier favor, incredibly thorough in what he does. Sylvain keens into his mouth, toes curling as Felix does his absolute best to pull him apart.
And Sylvain, as so dutifully promised, fucks Felix into the mattress until he nearly forgets his name.