At capslock_zutara, there was a game for half-assed fics to be made.
jesterry made the following prompt: For some very m-rated mythological non-con lemon:
painted lady ends up tied to the tree (yay, clichés!) With the ropes from her own dress (fetish, i can smell it), a pretty horny blue spirit with his blades ever so sharp and cutting slowly through the layers of her dress.
Full moon is, of course, no help when the hands are bound, but it's soo poetic a background
This is what I came up with. I don't do non-con, so it's dub-con. Hope you enjoy. Keep in mind this was written in the space of an hour so it's quick.
"I've heard you've been causing problems for the locals. In the Fire Nation, such actions are forbidden." His voice, like silk, caressed over her skin despite being muffled by the terrifying mask he wore. She couldn't move, the decorative ropes that once bound her clothing now bound her arms above her and legs behind her. She couldn't speak, the gauze that covered her hat balled into her mouth and strapped behind her head. She couldn't bend, despite the pull of the full moon her fingers could do nothing to save her. She could see though. She could see the blue mask, the black figure and those swords, those terrible, terrible swords.
"Please?" She tried through the gauze but the words fell apart before they could escape. A single blade withdrew from its sheath. It glistened in the moonlight and her eyes widened as she watched in terror as it come closer and closer. She couldn't move. A tear threatened to escape her eyes but she wouldn't give the bastard that satisfaction. She merely whimpered when the blade sliced through the first layer, then moaned when the second layer lay shredded around her. He was careful not to harm the flesh- there would be time for that later- as his blade skillfully passed through the underwrappings. The chill of the steel sent goosebumps across her skin as he ran it over her. Pressing the broadside along her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, down her stomach, toying with the edge of her panties then slicing through them like they were nothing.
Gripping her face in his palm, he looked her dead in the eye. The red paint- the markings of fertility and fair weather- line her eyes and face, shoulders and neck. The markings that should be on the breasts are not there, he notes. "Are you frightened, spirit?" That voice, sweet la above it was sex and smoke, it made her shiver in desire that shouldn't have been. She narrowed her eyes to clearly say no, not wanting to divulge that she was terrified.
The mask hid the smile behind. She would never see the man behind it. What was it about this woman? His entire life was spent in uncertainty but with her he had confidence in all he did. He felt like a god of lust, his loins already yearning for this gorgeous bound maiden. He watched as her eyes grew in time to the hardening of his cock already straining against the thin material of his pants. The blue spirit tugged on the ropes, loosening them just enough to allow the remnants of her dress to fall away. Her body completely bared to him, blushing brightly in embarrassment and anger, limbs tied so she was at his mercy. He liked that. He liked that a lot.
Using the ropes, he pulled her down to her knees. The gauze ripped from her pretty mouth as his pants ripped from his hips. Her formally gagged mouth was filled with his cock, tears streamed down her cheeks ruining the red swirls. She tried to quell the urge to vomit as he shoved himself deep down her throat. Her brain screamed "you bastard!", the words never got past the tip of his engorged member that pistoned between her lips. His gloved fingers sunk into her hair, finally ripping her away as the urge to shoot his load got stronger. Not yet, he thought, not that way. "Does my cock taste good? Does it feel good shoved inside you? Perhaps it would feel just as good shoved in another one of your holes?" he moved her head in up and down in conformation.
"Please...?" she husked. Behind the mask, the spirit asked what she pled for, "more?" the painted lady tried desperately to shake her head away, instead she was pushed forward, head shoved into the dirt, ass up in the air. His fingers ran across the full backside then between the cheeks to play with the puckered hole, "perhaps right here would be good." the painted lady whimpered, "anything but there!"
the man behind the mask, his need building the more he played with this whore, smirked pressing against the entrance feeling it protest in return, "lucky for you I don't care for here much." he slid his feet between her knees, opening her wider for his attentions. Her precious jewel glistened despite herself and the masked man's mouth watered. He moved between her legs and lifted the mask just enough to run his tongue over her sweet cunt. It was better than he expected. His cock was getting demanding however and would not tolerate any more of this "foreplay".
The lady screamed as a finger was roughly pushed inside her. It moved this way and that, spreading her, preparing her for the inevitable. Her body slickened for the intruder, protecting itself with the fluid from the onslaught. Another finger was added, then one more. She was filled to the brim with his hand. It shouldn't have felt so good... Why did it feel so good? Her tears flowed and her voice caught between moaning in pleasure and pain. Within moments, her body exploded around the hand within her. The bastard made her come and now, mask still lifted to expose the devilish mouth, he licked his fingers clean. Her eyes darted away from the sight only to find his other hand wrapped around his prick, stroking up and down, up and down. A pearl of fluid at the tip. Why did she have the urge to lick it away? He had asked if he tasted good, and la help her it did.
Her breathing had become erratic, her thoughts frantic. She was hardly aware that her hands were free, she could bend, but why didn't she? Why did she endure this? Had he cast a spell on her? "Please," this seemed to be the only word she could say. She saw his lips twist into a cross between a grin and a growl, "speak up!"
"Please what?" his voice as slick as her pussy, as heated as her skin. Why did he have to speak that way to her? His hands crawled along her flesh, teasing and taunting, pinching and stroking. Then he drew a finger along her slit and she about came again. The bastard. "Fuck me," she cried. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."
He laughed. The asshole had the audacity to laugh at her. Well he looked even needier than she did with his member jutting out the way it did, twitching eagerly for release. Maybe she had cast a spell on him?
With a demanding roar, he pounced, shoving himself deep within her slick heat, filling her so full that she sang out in the night air. The wet slapping noises surrounded them, their grunts and groans like wild animals in heat. And they were, the wildest of animals ever to grace this planet. The both lost control of themselves, crying out to the spirits in the sky as they released. An explosion to the heavens, they were fireworks.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her in tight. The Blue Spirit, her god of lust and thievery, stroked the painted lady, his goddess of fertility and fair weather, gently, kissing her lips and cheeks. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you."
Katara smiled, "no, my dear sweet Fire Lord, it was perfect. Remind me to do the costume party again real soon. That was fun."