#600 followers challenge

[sirowsky]

Hey, babes!

Apparently, I'm just shy of 600 followers, and true to tradition, that means I'm doing another prompt challenge!

And since it's October, I thought of maybe turning this into a Halloween themed challenge? I mean, why not 😊

So, if you wanna help me celebrate:

Pick one or more of the prompts below, or make up your own.

Let me know if you have a specific Pedro character in mind, otherwise I'll pick whichever one I feel is the best fit.

Either comment on this post with your picks, or send me an ask.

My goal for this challenge will be to try and write short stories, 600 words or less, which I already know I'm gonna fail spectacularly at 🤣 but it'll be a good exercise anyway!

Thank you to everyone who follows me and/or reads my stories, I will love you forever whether I know you or not. ❤️

Now let's have some fun!

Did you hear that?

What's with all the candles?

You're supposed to carve the pumpkin, not crush it.

It's so dark outside...

Why are you covered in sparkly pink dust?

I want to believe.

I never should've listened to you.

Is that a carousel?

Don't go in there!

Did your brain fall out somewhere on the way home?

I don't know what happened.

How did you do that?

This is stupid...

Let's get the hell out of here.

I swear I'm not drunk.

God, that stinks!

Well, that's not worrying at all...

What happened to the toaster?

You scared the shit out of me!

Can we just go home and have sex now?

That's all I can think of right now, but like I said, feel free to hit me with whatever else you can come up with!

[justanechoflower]

For the 100 Faces meme I'm thinking having Temmie with the expression at G3 would be pretty funny

If that's already taken, then perhaps Riverperson as G4?

(Honestly this is my only one who sent something so you're fine 👍 Thank you for the request!)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[pretzel-box]

if you are still taking requests could you do the opposite spin off where we the experiment like Sebastian of having a shop as for Sebastian being a prisoner who enters the reader shop?

Payment recieved

Words: 1k

Tags: Reversed roles, inhuman reader, human!sebastian, slight fluff, sebastian is still grumpy

authors note: Wrote it on my phone! This was actually requested by two people so I finished it now.

"How much?" Sebastian glanced up at you, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. Your eyes followed his gaze, realizing he was referring to the jacket you were wearing. It was a brown leather jacket lined with cozy alpaca fur, keeping you warm ever since your body had stopped producing its own heat. The jacket wasn’t particularly important, but you enjoyed the comfort it provided.

You had known Sebastian for a while; he always wore a grumpy expression and often greeted you with sarcasm when he entered your shop. "How much?" he repeated, this time with a hint of impatience.

You blinked, scratching behind your ear fins with a free hand, and smirked. "600 and a smile."

Sebastian hesitated, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. He was used to bartering, haggling, and the occasional hostile negotiation with you, but this was different. A smile? That was new.

“600 and a smile?” he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. His usual grumpy demeanor was momentarily replaced by confusion, as if trying to gauge whether you were joking or just odd. He looked at you closely, taking in your strange, inhuman features—the ear fins, the scaled texture of your skin, and the way your eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the shop. Despite your otherworldly appearance, there was something oddly comforting about you, something that made him relax just a little in your presence.

You nodded, your smile widening just a bit. “That’s right. A fair trade, don’t you think?” Your voice was light, almost playful, as if challenging him to go along with your terms. You tilted your head, the movement causing the fins on the sides of your head to twitch slightly.

Sebastian frowned, glancing down at the jacket again. It wasn’t just that he needed it—the halls of this facility were unforgiving, and his own clothes were worn thin from constant wear. It was more than that, though. This jacket seemed different, not just because of its quality, but because it was yours. He knew you valued it, even if you pretended otherwise.

But a smile? It was a strange request, one that felt more personal than the usual business interactions he was accustomed to. Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his cheerful disposition, and smiling wasn’t something that came naturally to him. He was a man of few words and fewer expressions, and the idea of smiling just to get a jacket felt… uncomfortable.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” His tone was less accusatory and more resigned, as if he knew he was about to lose a game he never intended to play.

You simply shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, your eyes never leaving his. “Completely serious. You want the jacket, right? Well, I want to see that grumpy face of yours break into a smile. It’s not every day I get to see something so rare.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, but there was no real malice in his gaze. It was a challenge, one that poked at the walls he’d built around himself. He could just walk away, keep his pride intact, and find another way to stay warm. But something in your relaxed, confident demeanor made him hesitate.

Finally, he let out a low grunt, something halfway between annoyance and reluctant acceptance. “Fine. If it means getting this jacket, then fine.” He looked down, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself for an ordeal.

Then,slowly and awkwardly, he tried to smile, hoping it was enough.

It wasn’t much—more of a twitch at the corners of his mouth than an actual smile, and his eyes remained as stoic as ever. But there was an effort, a hint of something softer beneath the layers of his usual gruffness. It was brief, almost too brief to notice, but it was there.

You watched him with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, your own smile widening in response. You would never say it but his smile made your heart skip a beat. “Not bad, Sebastian. Not bad at all.”

Sebastian’s face quickly returned to its usual neutral expression, though a faint flush colored his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me the jacket.” He stretched out his hand, wanting you to hurry up already.

You chuckled softly, unzipping the jacket and sliding it off your shoulders. The cold immediately hit your skin, but you barely noticed, more focused on the small victory you’d just won. You handed the jacket to him, your hand brushing against his as he took it.

“Take care of it,” you said lightly, but there was a sincerity in your tone that made Sebastian pause. “It’s seen a lot, that jacket. It deserves someone who’ll appreciate it.” It was one of your last personal items you owned.

Sebastian nodded, slipping the jacket on. It fit him well, and the warmth was immediate, enveloping him in a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked at you, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t used to kindness, especially not in a place like this, and the way you treated him—like an old friend rather than just another customer—left him feeling off balance.

“Thanks,” he muttered, pulling the collar up to shield his neck from the chill.

“Anytime,” you replied, your smile still lingering as you watched him turn to leave. “And don’t be a stranger, Sebastian. My shop’s always open.”

As he walked out into the dimly lit corridor, the warmth of the jacket spreading through his body, Sebastian found himself thinking about that brief, awkward smile. In the end it was more than worth it because he was warm and he knew basked in the slight confort that it gave him. The smell of your scent going up his nose, making him feel grateful for your presence. With that, he crawled through the vent with your image in his mind.

“YOU FORGOT THE KEYCARD, SUNSHINE!”

[woaza]

Delico's nursery with a S/O who speaks another Language.

Paring(s) : Dali D. x Reader, Henrique L. x reader, Dino C. x reader, Gerhard F. x reader.

Synopsis : They were unsure how the children would take to their new mother but the children start to speak their new wife’s native/second language. Seeming to start to grow closer together. (I love this trope sm)

Word count : Over 2k (Each part is a little over 600.)

Warning : None!

A/N : The Gender isn’t specified but heavily implied maternal figure. Not completely based cannon because I just erased their wives/moms, but yk that’s just how we roll. Plus there is a total of like eight DN fanfics on here so I’m doing my best to supply. I picked languages at random, I’m only fluent in English and I’m learning Italian. Other than that this is Google translate. If there is a typo feel free to let me know!

Dali Delico. (French)

After Dali’s late wife passed away it left him a single father. After that it was hard to connect to anyone about his loss. It was traumatic for him to say the least but following his late wife’s wishes he chose to be an active father. Which was a bit strange for a man of his position to say the least. He was overwhelmed with his duties, grief, and children.

That is until he met you who was like a breath of fresh air. As much as he loved his late wife, their marriage was almost pearly political. He thought that eventually he’d remarry another woman and set another alliance. Which he does but he couldn’t be more lucky. You. He first met you at another ball, normally all the same faces but he didn’t recognize you and he knows he would’ve recognized a face like yours.

He fell first and fell harder, a true companionate marriage. It didn’t take long for him to make himself your husband. What came slower was him introducing you to the children. Ul was no problem, you cooed and smiled at the baby but Raphael was more challenging.

It had now been a little over a month since you moved in. It was Mid spring, all the flowers blooming and cute baby animals being born.

The moon was only a crest this night as Dali was awoken to the sound of wailing. Ul was crying, Dali peaked open one of his eyes. Not lifting his head from the pillow. Checking to see if you had heard the baby, you hadn’t. He sighs a bit before he gets out of bed. Making his way to the crib lifting Ul up and rocking him in his arms gently. Which did help calm him down but the tears didn’t cease.

“Lait! —Lait!” Ul started to repeat the same word, Ul was at the age when he began to babble and say small words. Yet this word… or noise was new to Dali. He was far too tried to really think about what Ul was saying, After a small moment he sighs and simply checks his diaper and upon seeing it clean assumes Ul just wants some milk. After that Ul falls right back to sleep and Dali is able to climb back into bed with you. Now with a satisfied sigh he pulls the covers over himself and pulls you close to him.

The next morning he had some duties to attend to but was home by lunch. He was quick to look for you and the children. Then much to his satisfaction finds you with both of the children by the large fountain. He starts to walk across the court yard. Before he opens his mouth to speak he hears Raphael and it catches him a bit off guard.

“Bébés canards!” He says his small cubby hand pointing to the small ducks and their mother bathing in the fountain together. You smile and nod you head. “Oh oui! Ce sont des bébés canards très mignons!” Raphael seems to somewhat under stand, he smiles and nods leaning onto you and grabbing ahold of your skirt as all three of you stare at the ducks.

Dali can’t help but smile, happy to see you bonding with his (your) children.

Henrique Lorca (Spanish.)

Raising Twins was a handful, in which he had no part in. Henrique didn’t lean one way or the other. Yes he loved his daughters, but he was also nobility and did very little to help actually raise them. A head pat and a hug when he had time. Yet at his grown age he couldn’t change a diaper if he had to. He believed he was far above that kind of behavior. The head of house Lorca changing a nappy? Be realistic.

For men like him he was never really taught a deep parental connection. Like how his Daughters are now he was also raised by nanny. But unlike parents, nanny’s are forced and paid to be with you. They will care about you and grow connected to you but it just will never been the same a your parent.

When he got married to you, he was over the moon. You were so beautiful and lovely conversation. Next thing you knew you were living in the Lorca manor. You yourself were a busy lady, now with the title promotion of being the lady of the house. Doing your best to keep up with Henrique. What he didn’t do was properly warn you about was His two daughters.

It wasn’t that the two girls were bad and you needed to be warned, it was how little he mentioned them before your wedding. It was a bit concerning. But you still couldn’t be more happy with getting the title of Step mom. You almost immediately jumped into the role, Lucia and Elena couldn’t be more happy with their new mom. You played and spent decent time with them. While Henrique still was more or less absent. It wasn’t until The whole situation with Dali did he really start to notice his two children.

It was late in the evening. Well past Supper when he came home, he was exhausted and tired. All he wanted to was to find you, rest and bathe. He walked to your shared chambers just to find you absent. He quirked a brow at the empty room, it was so late where could you be?

“Where is my wife?” He stopped a nearby maid, who quickly told him you were putting the twins to rest. He rolled his eyes, not a job for someone of your status. He marched over to the twins room, as he got closer he started to hear something. With each step he got closer it came more and more clear.

Clear as day he heard a soft melody “Hija del corazon- ” It was your voice and the twins singing along. “Deja ya de llorar, Junto a ti yo voy a estar.” The hallway was dark besides the moon shining through the windows and the dim light of the room, you and the twins were in. He got closer and peaked through the crack in the door. He watched as You pulled the duvet over each of them.

“Buenas noches.” a gentle smile crossed your features. The both looked up at you at yawned a bit before they responded “Buenas noches mamá.” Something about the moment made his heart swell.

Dino Classico (German)

Classico absolutely had no part in his son’s childhood up till this point. He could care less in much honesty. Theodore was a child from one of his past marriages. One of his failed wife’s, a woman who couldn’t handle him. A women who wasn’t fit to be his wife. This was Dino’s Mentality, which for better or worse is really bad. It made him a horrible husband and an even worse father. If he couldn’t bring himself to love his wife, whom would be his lover.

Then it was no surprise to see how he interacted with his child. Poor Theodore, an over independent child. Growing more and more like his father by the day.

He was a cold and callous man. Every marriage he has had was strictly political. Each wife had to take certain steps and follow rules. Sleep in different room, dress the way he wanted, and speak the way he wanted. He never has felt a deep love or passion. He just wasn’t very interested in such things.

That was all true, and still is for the most part. He still ignores Theodore but his views on how to love may have changed. As you liked to tell him “Change can be for the better.” He for the most part didn’t like when you said that. He preferred tradition, change was a hassle and took time to get used to.

Though each day at a time you take to changing your cold husband’s mind. You’ve made remarkable progress as-well! He even likes to share a room, he says it’s simply because “Your the only wife who’s been able to meet my expectations.”. Which yes could be true but you knew deep down he truly loved you.

Today was a cold winters day, A routine day. Nothing out of the ordinary. He woke up and left to deal with some Vlad Agency business. Upon returning home normally he is greeted by you, which he believes is a must and only what he deserves. Yet today you are not by the door. Only the maids and butlers great him back.

“Where is my lady wife?” A scowl across his face as he speaks, a butler is quick to tell him you are with Theodore. He can’t help but be a bit confused. With Theodore? What reason could you have to be with Theodore, there was simply nothing of discussion between the two of you. He never cared if Theodore liked you or even if the two of you had a relationship.

He quickly made is way to Theodore’s small private room, it wasn’t a play room. No, Theodore was more sophisticated. It was more akin to a study room. He opens the door to find you and Theodore sat at a table leaned over a book.

“Son, wife.” He says firmly, both of you look up from the book. You smile and Theodore gives a respectful nod. “Neither of you greeted me upon my arrival. What is the meaning of this?” He was displeased and it was clear.

“I’m sorry Husband, me and Theodore must’ve gotten caught up in our studies.”

“Studies?” He said quickly not even giving you time to breathe. “Why yes, our studies. Theodore has-”. Before you could finish he cuts you off lifting his hand and with his other pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have little care for such things, don’t make the same mistake tomorrow. As of now I need you to come with me. I have actual important matters to discuss with you.”

“Yes of course.” You quickly stand up and push your chair in. Your gloved hand was gently placed on Theodore’s shoulder. “Wir werden unser Studium bald fortsetzen.” He smiled at this and nodded his head “Ja, bitte. Das uh, würde mir gefallen.” This made Dino’s eyes widened. His pride wouldn’t let him comment on it. Refusing to give the child even a spec of attention.

You and him quickly exit the room. “You know you shouldn’t give the boy any attention. If he wants to learn another language I’ll pay a tutor, don’t waste your time.”. Politely you shake your head. “He’s my son, I wanted to.” Dino felt confused, why were you so kind and patient? He couldn’t help but be a bit enamored by it.

Gerhard Fra (Hindi)

Lord Fra wasn’t present at all in young Angelico’s life at all. As a matter of fact. Angelico rather annoyed him. What reason could the boy possibly have for talking to him? He had a nanny and anything he could ever realistically want. So why was this child so persistent on his garnering his attention. Children often made him angry and that fact never changed even after he had his own. Taking care of you children is low class.

Gerhard had more important goals, he had a reputation. Which he was determined to uphold. A long list of things he had to do each day and childcare wasn’t even on the list. Like his father and his father’s father they left the duties of childcare to their nanny’s and servants.

He was capable of love, he understood it. More or less and simply put he just didn’t want to give it. Believing that he had better areas to devote his attention to. Fatherhood was unnecessary for a man of his class. Why parent when you could pay someone to do that for you?

One thing he did have time and attention for was you, his newly wed wife. He loved you deeply and was completely enamored by you, it was almost hard for him to stay calm around you. To keep his dignity. Don’t get lord Fra wrong he did keep his manners about him. Yet you were so gorgeous and he had fallen completely for you. He couldn’t help but want to hold your hand or kiss you maybe in times when it would be deemed inappropriate.

Lord Fra and you, lady Fra sat in the parlor. You were sitting on a couch while he sat in a nearby armchair. Sipping on tea and talking, he loved talking with you. You were so intelligent and genuinely interesting. Dispute his work ethic Gehard always seemed to make sure to make time for his wonderful wife.

As you sit there the door opened with a slow creak. Angelico’s small face looking into the room. Gehard sighed a bit but before he could speak or dismiss the boy, Angelico quickly walked towards you. “maan, madad karo!” The young boy said running to your side. Which was a bit alarming. Where had the boy learned that? Did you teach him? Surely you hadn’t?

“Madad karana?” You repeat looking at Angelico. Gerhard grows silent watching the intercation. “Haan madad karo.” He says his small hands gripping onto the fabric of your dress.

“Angelico, do not pester my wife.” Lord Fra says firmly, done with Angelicos behavior. “No dear truly it’s fine, if you’ll just excuse us for moment.” With that you and the young boy left hand in hand leaving Gerhard in the parlor all alone. He sat there pondering on what he witnessed. A feeling of jealousy started to bud in his mind, which he desperately tried to push away. Him lord Fra Jealous of a child, let alone his own. That is ridiculous, but the way you held the boys hand and immediately locked your attention onto to him. It stirred an unknown feeling in him. Yes he was jealous of the boy taking you away from him but it made him think of his own mother.

How wished that she had cared half as much as you do. It was bitter sweet to see his wife be so maternal to his child.

(This is my first post on this account and my first Fan-fiction. I did my best to learn common curtsy for fan fics, but if I mis-tag something please tell me. I’m learning and appreciate your patience.)

[saintgoths]

ꜱᴍᴜᴅɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀꜱᴄᴀʀᴀ

ADA WONG, BELA DIMITRESCU, ELLIE WILLIAMS AND LADY.

THANK YOU FOR 600+ FOLLOWERS NOW HERE'S SOME WLW ACTION.

WARNING - NASTY SEX, STRAP USING, BITING, TRIBBING, PUSSY EATING, MUMMY KINK, 69 AND SCISSORING.

P!LINKS!

ADA WONG

You hadn’t remembered the last time someone else had made you feel like this, and you had hated the fact that the only person who could reach so deep inside of you and have you craving for more was the same woman you had sworn off from not seeing.

Ada Wong.

The mystique, the enigma.

The woman you had an on and off relationship with, the same woman who’d leave for weeks without saying another word to you, disappear into the world as if she was mist, a woman made of the very same air you’d choke on whenever a thrust from the toy she had worn had pummelled deep inside of you, she had you in a twisted position, face down and your buttocks staring up at her while she smoothed her hands against your skin before she had left it with one last slap.

You had jerked once you had felt the connection, teary-eyed as the strap vibrated against your walls, you had shuddered and flinched every time you had felt the tip of the cock lick deeper inside of you, you didn’t know what you were saying and didn’t realise how much you had cried in bliss. Your mascara smudged and voice trembled as she pulled you into a fountain of orgasms, Ada’s voice talking to you as she purred how much of a good girl you were, always coming back to her and being the adorable pet, you had silently promised her to be.

“Yes!” You had foolishly cried out. “Yes!” You had now been vocal on how you had belonged to her, Ada had known that side of you would come out soon, how slick and tactful she was, as if she was in your mind stroking and egging you on to point out how much you were hers.

“Good girl, say it again for me, say that you’re mine,” Ada moaned as she could feel her high attempt to cut through her, she had tucked her bottom lip behind her teeth, the pearl of her cunt slick and swollen as the vibration of the adult toy pulsated and quivered against her skin, she had rolled her eyes back, her slender digits caught up in your hair as she pulled herself closer to her, her naked chest against your bare and glossy back as she continued to pump the cock inside of you.

Her lips quivered before it had been pressed against your shoulders, she had left sloppy kisses against the wings of your body while she could feel her motions become more jerked. “Ada!” You had cried out, “I’m gonna---oh!” You squealed as your cunt tightened around the object, your body had trembled while your nails dug into the damp bed sheets, as your back had arched deeply as your juices painted the cock, you could feel Ada’s teeth dig into your shoulder, leaving her mark as she muffled her cries, her cum staining the strap that she had pulled out of you.

She had rolled to her back as she released a big sigh while she turned off the strap, you had laid beside her, eyes trained on the ceiling that had dimly lit the area, arm above your head while you had barely looked at her, though, had been aware with how her dark eyes focused on you. “Gonna leave now?” You whispered and as kickback, you felt the way her body shuffled on bed, in thought that she was getting ready to leave, you had been surprised when she wrapped her left arm around your upper torso,

“No,” she replied as she left a kiss against the sharpness of your jaw. “I think I’m gonna stay.”

REFERENCE

BELA DIMITRESCU

She had stared up at you, fingers stiff against your hips while her eyes glinted in a humour that had challenged you, she had known what you had wanted, what you had desired and she had brief moments of giving it to you, and you were so close to it. As if you were a naïve child pointing your hand towards the sun claiming you almost caught it, dominance.

Her citrine coloured eyes had been shadowed as the slick wetness of both of your cunts had shaded above each other, you had licked the back of your lower teeth, you had known she had also wanted it, wanted you to dominate her the way she’d handle you, so you had taken it, had pressed yourself against her, and had watched the way she had moved.

Bela didn’t close her eyes but you saw the way her eyes adjusted as she held back a moan. So, you had leaned forward and kissed her, both of your blood-stained mouths mixed with each other as the sweet aroma of the scarlet liquid had trembled a moan out of her. You had been smooth with the way you wrapped your hand around her neck, there had been a soft heat, as if fire had been slowly melting an ice cave, you had slipped your tongue inside of your mouth and she had gasped, her hands slipped to your buttocks.

You had moved yourself forward and as an echo the slimy and sticky sounds of both of your mixed nectar had been pronounced, she had shuddered, there had been a small fight in her as she gently bucked her hips forward, but you had pressed her down while you had kissed her hard. A high moaned had passed through her lips as you had begun to pick up the pace, her eyes now shut as she had taken in the pleasure that had shifted between her thighs, she had squealed in your mouth as your swollen pearls circled around each other, and once she had tilted her head back, you had attacked her neck with kisses.

You had nibbled and sucked as you could feel her tight cunt throb against yours. “Yes, right there!” She cried out, her moans reflected against the walls, her cries in scales higher compared to her natural tone, thus you had smirked, you had been rough, but there was still an essence of care with the way you had touched her, the way your hands cupped her breasts and circled her inflamed nipples as her back drowned against the bed, she had shook against you and her positioned her hearth in a better angle, she had wanted more, she had wanted it harder, and you saw it with the way she had looked at you.

With much lust and hunger, you had now had both hands wrapped around her throat as you continued to fuck her. “Like that baby?” You had questioned, your inquire enough to have her look at you with doe eyes, eyes she would barely look people with, just for you.

“G’nna cum! Oh baby! Oh!” She screamed as she curled her toes, “Gonna cum!” She echoed as her juices squirted out, her nectar had drenched the both of you, aimed in distances she’d never thought she could do, you had continued to move, adamant to let her go you had chased for your high and pulled your head backwards as you had grunted in inconsistent patterns while Bela continued to cry in bliss under you. “Yes!” She quivered as she could feel herself release one last time, with you, she had orgasmed again before she collapsed her limbs against her bed.

You had smiled while you pulled your used cunt away from her, had pressed your mouth against hers before you had spoken. “On a scale from one to ten, how angry is your mother going to be with me?”

Bela had smirked at you before she replied. “A thousand.”

REFERENCE

ELLIE WILLIAMS

She had been so ludicrous, desperate and empty when she didn’t have her face between your thighs, she had tried. Tired to stay away from you but you were a Siren, a Lorelei, Lilith herself.

She had moaned as her hand coated her soaked cunt that she had circled with the weight of her fingers while she had also tasked herself to suck and lick the small ball that had gently perked up from your small meaty fleece Ellie had captured her mouth with.

Your hips had gently thrusted forwards, hands curved around the arch of the kitchen island you had sat on. Its once cold platform warmed by the heat of your skin and the friction you had caused whenever you had moved your hips forward to press your cunt further against her face.

Her green eyes open as she looked up at you with loving eyes, and as she used two of her digits to slip inside of her tight hole, Ellie had rolled her eyes back while she had encouraged you to bounce on her face. “Mama, come on,” she whimpered before she kitten licked your clit, and in response to her name-calling you had moaned just as you slipped your fingers into the messiness of her hair, guided her on where to move her pink lips and where to inhale you.

You had felt it, the sweet stinging need to release on her face, but you had held it back and choked back a cry when you felt the texture of her tongue slip inside of you, her eyes still open as she watched the way you had fondled your breast, the way you had rocked your hips forwards to bounce on her small meat. “So good, fuck Ellie!” You had wept and as she had hummed against your heat, the smooth vibrations flowing through your body. Frantic, Ellie blinked towards you as she quickly grabbed your other breast.

Like a juvenile, was what Ellie had been, with the way she had suckled on your clit, bounced on her fingers and played with your breast with her other hand, she was like a thirsty mammal, and when she had closed her eyes and had curved her fingers against her sweet areas, she had then climaxed around her digits, her nectar spilling against the ground while she slipped out her fingers and used both of her hands to spread your legs further apart.

“Fuck! Ellie!” You had cried as you could feel yourself begin to shake; eyes drowsy as the second warning of your body wanting to cum zapped through your figure. “Ah-fuck!” You had cried out just as you lurched your body forwards, both of your paws deep into her tied locks as you had finally cummed into her mouth and like the hungry dog she was she had inhaled all of them, licking every inch of your ambrosia as much as she could and once, she had finished, she had pressed her chin against your leg.

There had been a certain look on her face, a look of happiness, and as you had sighed, you returned her smile, Ellie had then spoke. “Did I do well mama?”

“Yeah,” you had breathed. “Yes, you did.”

REFERENCE

LADY

You had lost how long it had been when both you had Lady had started kissing, and you had forgotten how you even made it into the room, all you had known was how much you had wanted to taste her, how much the both of you had wanted to taste each other, it was like your minds were connected, how the two of you were in sync. You had each other hands between each other’s thighs and the two of you had licked each other’s tongues, as if the moment you two would let go of each other you’d both disappear.

“I love you,” Lady breathed before she walked you to the bed, both hands clasped against both sides of your face as she had then pressed you against the soft bed.

It wasn’t long until the two of you had peeled off each other’s clothing and positioned each other’s hearths above each other’s faces, you had been quick to press your tongue against her slit, her taste had been hot and tangy and the simple aroma of her nectar had driven you crazy, you had moaned, your body tight as you could feel her the balance of her tongue stroke your sex, the both of you rolling your hips as you had both chased your high.

Quick, you had thrusted your tongue inside of her, aided her to bounce on your tongue, the slight effort had pulled an fiery string inside of her, and her moans began to get higher in a preposterous scale, her moans twisted into a nasally cry as she could feel herself suck her stomach in, she had lifted her mouth away from your cunt, her eyes were rolled back as she could feel herself quickly orgasm inside of your mouth.

Embarrassed, she had turned to you. “Sorry,” she had muttered and moved, you had shook your head.

“Don’t apologise,” you said before you kissed her again, and cheerfully, Lady had pushed your body against the bed.

“Then let me make it up to you,” she whispered before she crawled up your figure just as she had tucked her bottom lip behind her teeth fore she cupped the back of your knees with her palms. She had positioned herself above your sex before she started to rub her pussy against yours, and with a short sigh, Lady had fluttered her eyes shut, her dainty hands wrapped around your ankle as she slowly picked up the pace.

Her lips had shuddered as her clit smothered against yours, she had closed her eyes before she tilted her head to the side. “You feel so good baby, ah,” she had whined and as kickback you had watched how she quickly moved with your glossy eyes, you had watched how she worked her body, her waist, had stared at the curve of her hips and perk of her breast as she bounced against you, both of your cries intertwined with each other as the wet friction between the two of you had built up.

“You’re so beautiful,” you had muttered before you had reached for her breasts, watchful with how the short strands of her hair had bounced and swayed at every movement of her thrusts, you had circled the pad of your fingers against her nipples and lustful, she had bent over and kissed you again, the strokes of her need to orgasm once more had pulsed through her body and she had held it back, but it had been a terrible but wonderful pain, holding back her nectar and continue racing for yours.

She had lost herself inside of you, breathing you, taking you in when she licked your tongue again, you had gasped and whimpered, as you could feel yourself cry, she had felt so good, you had felt so good, the enlarged bud of your clit stroke and humped against hers, you had traced your fingers against her jaw, shadowed every inch and edge as you could feel yourself want to climax, the two of you in a pool of such intense pleasure that there had been a loss of words, just the mere gasp and moans and the strong staring in each other’s eyes.

The moment one of you had eventually spoken was when you could feel your body tremble, inflamed with bliss and thrill as it took over your body. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You squealed and with flush, Lady laughed through your mouth, stubborn to pull herself away from you, obsessed with idea of being connected with you eternally.

“Cum with me,” she lustfully suggested and once more, her distinct cries commenced again, shaking and jerking against you as her sticky honey spilt against your body, mixing with your amrita that quickly poured out, with a relieved sigh, she had fallen against you.

“Trish is so going to make fun of me,” Lady said before she folded herself off of you.

With a smirk you had agreed. “Yeah, you do moan really weird,” you said and with a short slap against your forearm, Lady clicked her tongue.

“I hate you.”

REFERENCE ONE

REFERENCE TWO

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show Part 5

Masterpost

I just spent an unnecessarily long time making A Quiz so I would have questions and answers ready to go, only to not put any of them in. And spend a ridiculously long time doing math because I had to redo it like three times. Numbers are not my strong suit. In any case I now have a fully functional Jeopardy game and the next part.

~~~~~

It’s a close race. They were equal on the mountain track and neither really got sidetracked by Skulker on such a straightforward route. They made it to Zone Two almost even, but Jason almost immediately falls behind as Skulker hits him with a paintball. Being shot at shocked him more than anything, but realizing it was paint, he stopped trying to avoid it and just kept going, letting his armor deal with most of it. Skulker got bored and quickly went after Johnny instead, who got irritated and started a shouting match with Skulker as he drove. The different terrains meant they had to keep slowing down and speeding up, and Skulker got bored with the paintballs and started throwing water balloons instead. This was more annoying for the drivers because the water made the sand and mud trickier to drive on. Both Johnny and Jason both got their bikes temporarily stuck in mud and had to drag them back out while Skulker cackled above them. 

Zone three allowed Jason to catch back up to Johnny. This was what he was used to and he was able to go faster with more confidence. Johnny and Jason separated after Skulker shot a net at them both. And they found each other again on a straightaway leading to the finish line. It was close at the end, but Jason managed to pull out ahead. 

They shook hands at the finish line, walking back into the main room together. They separated when Johnny left to go back to the stands, followed closely by Skulker. 

“Wonderful race, very intense, great driving all around.” Danny says, very entertained. “Well earned win, Jason. I’ll remind you this is what you have currently.”

“What letter would you like to guess?”

“I’ll take I.”

“Another vowel, very good.” Danny waves his hand again. “There are two I’s!

“The next challenge is trivia, which will be played by Red Robin as he is the only one who has yet to participate in a challenge.”

A new podium appears on stage as Danny’s podium rotates so the two are facing each other. Red Robin walks up to the new podium.

“ The theme is SPACE!” Danny is so excited he is practically bouncing. A jeopardy-looking game board appears on the screen. “ You have 6 categories, all space themed, they are:  Earth, Other Planets, Space Numbers, Stars, Other Space Entities, and Spacecrafts! There are 9,000 possible points, you need to get at least 7,500 in order to win! The game can stop as soon as we’ve reached that number.”

Red, being Red, decides to do all the hardest questions first. He starts at the bottom left corner, gets the first question right. Tim thinks since he got the hardest one he could probably finish out the Earth category pretty easily, so he goes down the list and gets them all correct. 

With 1,500 points he decides to start the next category with the hardest question as well. This is his first wrong answer. He starts going up the list, and gets the 400 incorrect for this category as well. Danny is disappointed. The rest of the boys are infinitely relieved that Tim is the one doing the trivia part. They probably would have lost already. 

Tim does get the rest of the ‘Other Planets’ category correct and moves on with 2,100 points and 6,000 points left on the board. He decides to start ‘Space Numbers’ with the 100 point question and keeps going, acing the whole category. He now has 3,600 points. With 4,500 points left on the board he needs 3,900 more points. This means he can only lose 600 more points. He aces the ‘Stars” category, then moves on to ‘Other Space Entities’. He misses the last question, leaving him with 6,100 points and 1,500 left on the board. Tim can only afford to miss the 100 point question, so he decides to start at 500 and get it over with.

He continues until he reaches the 200 point question. If Tim answers this one he will win, and he does so correctly the screen changes to shoots of confetti.

[shadysubject06]

SO THERE'S A LOT OF YOU NOW

I had originally planned to have two different prompts for this event, since the last time I looked at the follower numbers we were at 486. I was like "oh, it'll be a 400 and 500 event!" And then I woke up this morning and saw we were at 700. So. Maybe I'll plan some stuff for 500, 600, and 700 later. But in the meantime, this is the 400 follower DTIYS!!! Use the tag #SS06DTIYS (that's a zero not an o) and feel free to directly tag me in the post so I can see and share your work!

Thank you so, so much for joining this weird, wild ride! EDIT: There is no due date!!! All of the October drawing challenges are coming up soon so I don't wanna make anybody feel pressured or rushed. Feel free to do this whenever and however you'd like!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 2

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of... Sex..aftercare..limits..NDA..discomfort...virginity..masturbation..anxity, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), food, kissing, making out, Joel starts to get a little obsessive or toxic THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A mysterious message and a weekend away with the man who just bought you for a VERY large amount of money. What could go wrong?

WC: 5.9K

A/n: Thank you for all the love in the first part. My question for you all is, what do you want to see happen next? Any theories? Or expectations?

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

The initial bid was quickly followed by a murmur of excitement. "$600," someone called out confidently. You scanned the crowd, noticing the bidder: a sharply dressed woman with an air of authority. 

"$700," another voice chimed in, this time from a man in a sleek, black suit, his demeanor cool and composed. The numbers climbed higher, each bid like a jolt to your already racing heart. 

"One thousand," a younger man with a mischievous glint in his eye offered, leaning forward in his seat.

The bids continued to rise, the energy in the room intensifying with each new number. "Five thousand," declared a distinguished older gentleman, his silver hair gleaming under the lights. 

As the auctioneer teased the crowd, "Ten thousand, do I hear ten thousand?" you felt a wave of nausea. Your heart was pounding, and your stomach was in knots. The bids climbed higher and higher, the room a blur of faces and voices.

"Twenty thousand," someone else from the crowd stood up. "Thirty thousand, do I hear thirty thousand?"

You felt sick as the numbers continued to go up. Your heart was in your throat, and you felt dizzy and lightheaded. "Fifty thousand," the auctioneer's voice teased the crowd, sending another ripple of excitement through the room.

"Seventy thousand," a man in an extravagant velvet suit called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

As you tried to stay coherent, the numbers continued to climb. "One hundred thousand," someone else bid, and your anxiety spiked. 

"One hundred and twenty thousand," the auctioneer prodded. 

A tall man from the back corner suddenly stood up, his voice cutting through the chatter, "Nine hundred thousand." Your stomach flipped upside down. The man exuded an air of confidence and power, his presence dominating the room. His gaze was intense, filled with hunger and determination, and he seemed to linger on you.

Just as the bidding war was getting more intense, another man jumped up, his voice commanding attention. "One million dollars." He looked directly at the first man, his eyes full of challenge.

The crowd began to stir, eager to see what would happen next. "One-point-seven million," the first man replied, his voice steady and confident, his gaze still locked on you.

"Two million," the second man countered, raising an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm.

Suddenly, the room fell silent, everyone holding their breath. The auctioneer looked around, gauging the tension. Then, the first man spoke again, his voice clear and decisive, "Three million."

The second man's eyes widened in surprise, realizing he had been outbid. He shook his head in defeat, stepping back into the shadows. The crowd erupted in applause.

As the auctioneer declared, "Three million is the winning bid, going once... going twice... sold!" a sense of relief washed over you. But then, you heard the voice again, familiar and unsettling. It was Joel. 

Faith hurried to your side, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "You should be careful around Joel," she whispered. "He's intense and not someone to take lightly."

Joel walked up to the stage, his presence as commanding as ever. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours. You took his hand, and he helped you down from the stage with a surprising gentleness. His grip was firm, yet reassuring, and you found yourself leaning into his strength as he guided you through the crowd.

He guided you towards a table nestled in the quieter corner of the room, where a man awaited, already rising to his feet with a welcoming smile. "Hi there, I'm Tommy," he greeted, extending his hand in a gesture of hospitality. His demeanor exuded a relaxed charm, a stark contrast to Joel's intensity, and his eyes radiated a genuine warmth.

"Hi," you replied, your voice a bit shaky as you took his hand. Joel pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity. Joel then settled into the chair beside you, his arm draping casually over the back of your seat. You could feel the heat of his presence, both comforting and intimidating at the same time.

The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but at your table, an awkward silence stretched out. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, Faith's warnings echoing in your mind. Joel's intense gaze didn't waver, and you struggled to find your voice.

"So, uh, do you come to these things often?" you finally asked, trying to break the ice.

Joel's lips twitched into a slight smile. "Not really," he replied. "But when I do, I make sure it's worth it."

You swallowed hard, his words hanging heavily in the air. Tommy, sensing the tension, leaned in slightly. "Don't mind Joel," he said with a chuckle. "He's always been the strong, silent type. I'm here to make sure he doesn't scare you off."

You managed a nervous laugh. "Well, he's definitely... intimidating."

Joel's expression softened a bit more. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I just... I knew I had to have you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you, there was something undeniably captivating about him. "Thank you," you said softly, unsure of what else to say.

Tommy cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You glanced at him, grateful for the distraction. "I like reading, mostly. And I used to paint a lot before school got so hectic."

Joel's interest seemed piqued. "What do you paint?"

"Landscapes, mostly," you said, finding it easier to talk about your passion. "I love capturing the way light changes everything."

Joel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I'd like to see your work sometime."

Before you could respond, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room once more. "And now, presenting number 14, starting bid at $500."

You tensed, recognizing Faith's number. Joel's hand tightened slightly on the back of your chair as both you and Tommy turned your attention towards the stage. Faith walked out with confidence, her eyes scanning the crowd with a boldness that made you proud and anxious at the same time.

Tommy leaned closer to you, his voice low. "That's your friend, right? Faith?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and worry. "Yeah, that's her."

Tommy's gaze lingered on Faith for a moment, then he glanced at Joel. "Didn't you buy her once?"

Joel’s expression darkened slightly. "Only once," he confirmed, his tone cold. "She knows how to put on a show. Knows how to please the crowd."

Tommy smirked, his eyes fixed on Faith with a calculating glint. "Think she’s worth another go?"

Joel’s eyes followed Faith's every move, his jaw set in a hard line. "Maybe. She’s got her uses."

You felt a wave of discomfort wash over you at their callous remarks about Faith. She was your best friend, not just a commodity to be traded. The casual way they spoke about her, reducing her to mere utility, made your skin crawl. You tried to mask your unease, but it lingered in your expression.

The bidding for Faith started off slow but quickly gained momentum. You could see the determination in her eyes, matching the rising excitement in the room.

"One thousand," someone called out, followed by another bid of "Two thousand."

Tommy seemed to be considering his options. He glanced at you, then back at the stage. "She's a hot ticket. Could be a good investment."

Joel watched the scene unfold, his gaze never leaving Faith. "She can handle it. She’s been through worse."

The bids continued to climb, and you could see Faith holding her ground, her composure never wavering. Suddenly, Joel’s voice broke through the din. "Thirty thousand," he called out, his tone calm but firm.

You stared at him in surprise, and Tommy chuckled. "Looks like Joel’s interested."

Joel met your gaze, his expression unreadable. "Just making sure she has a fair shot," he said, but there was a protective edge in his voice.

"Thirty-five thousand!" someone else shouted, and you could see the tension in Joel's face.

"Forty thousand," Joel countered, his tone unwavering.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Fifty thousand," he said, raising the stakes.

Joel's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "Sixty thousand."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the competition. "Seventy thousand."

The auctioneer's voice cut through the room. "Seventy thousand, going once, going twice—"

"Eighty thousand," Joel declared, his gaze locking onto Faith.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ninety thousand."

Joel's expression darkened, and you could feel the tension between the two brothers. "One hundred thousand," Joel said, his voice low and dangerous.

The auctioneer's hammer hovered in the air. "One hundred thousand, going once, going twice—"

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Tommy interrupted, his tone smug.

The room fell silent, and Joel's eyes burned with a mix of frustration and resignation. The auctioneer's hammer came down. "Sold! Number 14 for one hundred and fifty thousand!"

Tommy looked satisfied as he watched Faith being led off the stage. "She's going to be quite the addition," he said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Joel's hand tightened on your shoulder, his expression hard. "Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Tommy laughed softly. "Oh, I do. Trust me."

As the room settled back into its buzz of conversation and anticipation, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He took the folder, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he said with a small smile, opening the folder and beginning to review its contents. You tried to focus on the conversation with Tommy, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel's attention on you, mingled with the echoes of Faith’s words in your mind.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, watching Faith being led away. "She’ll make someone very happy tonight."

Joel snorted. "She’s got a reputation for it. Knows how to work the room."

Tommy glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Think your friend will be okay?"

You nodded, trying to muster confidence. "Faith is strong. She knows what she’s doing."

Joel's hand slid from the back of your chair to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don’t worry. She’ll adapt. They always do." His words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down your spine.

Tommy smirked. "Well, let's see how long she lasts this time."

As the conversation continued between Joel, Tommy, and yourself, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He accepted the folder, his fingers briefly brushing yours. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he remarked, opening the folder to review its contents. You couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay within, and why Joel seemed so focused on them.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself from the table, his eyes still fixed on Faith as he made his way over to her. You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach at the thought of Faith being in his hands.

Turning back to Joel, you couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bid on her?"

Joel glanced up from the folder, his expression guarded. "She's an interesting choice," he replied cryptically, his tone giving nothing away.

"But why her?" you pressed, needing more than just a vague answer.

Joel hesitated, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Let's just say she's caught my attention before," he replied evasively.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Whatever Joel had planned, it was clear that Faith was at the center of it. But as you watched Tommy approach her, you couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a dangerous game, with no way out.

Joel seemed to sense your unease, and he leaned back in his chair, studying you thoughtfully. "You seem nervous," he observed, his voice low.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Joel nodded in understanding, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's a lot to take in," he agreed, reaching for his glass and taking a long sip.

As he set the glass back down, he glanced at the folder in his hand. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said casually, though there was an undercurrent of dismissal in his tone.

You watched in silence as he stood up, the folder tucked under his arm. "Take care," he added, before turning to leave.

A wave of relief washed over you as he walked away, though it was tinged with a sense of apprehension. 

As Joel got up to leave, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity mingled with a tinge of anxiety. "Wait," you called out before you could stop yourself, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

He paused, turning back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Yes?" he prompted, his tone tinged with a hint of impatience.

You hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. "How... how am I supposed to get home?" you finally blurted out, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead.

Joel's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "That's not my concern," he replied cryptically, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. With Joel gone, you suddenly felt very alone.

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension as you glanced down at your phone. The lobby furniture wasn't very comfortable, but you preferred it to the makeout sessions and almost porn-worthy sounds emanating from the ballroom where the auction had ended. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low murmur of intimate conversations, creating a strange juxtaposition of luxury and lewdness.

A message flashed on the screen from a number you didn't recognize, adding to the unsettling atmosphere of the night. "Did you get home safe?" it read, the concern evident in the sender's words.

"I'm nowhere close to home," you replied, your response tinged with hesitation. Who could be reaching out to you at this hour, and why?

Almost immediately, another message popped up. "Need a ride?" it asked, accompanied by a link to a ride-sharing app. Your instincts urged caution, but the uncomfortable ambiance of the dimly lit lobby made you consider the offer more seriously.

"Who is this?" you typed, fingers hovering over the send button. You needed to know more before trusting a stranger.

"If you take the ride, I'll pay for it. And I'll call you to tell you who I am," came the prompt reply, offering a small glimmer of reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

You put your phone down to think about how reckless accepting the offer might be, then considered the cost. The Uber from campus to the venue had already been $50, split between you and Faith. Did you really want to spend more money? No.

"Fine," you sent the message quickly, trying to commit before you could second-guess yourself.

Twenty minutes later, one of the workers caught your attention. "There's a cab for you, miss." You smiled at him and made your way outside, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. This was definitely more than the $50 you and Faith had split for the ride here, you thought as you opened the car door.

You got comfortable in your seat and messaged Faith that you were leaving for the night before your phone rang just as the car got onto campus.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Hey, sweets," came the familiar southern drawl. It was Joel.

"Joel?!" You stopped in your tracks, a mix of surprise and apprehension in your voice. "How the hell did you get my number?"

He chuckled softly. "It was all in your file, remember?"

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. He was right. "Did you get home safe?" he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

You sighed. “I'm walking there now.”

His tone changed as he continued, “Walking? I got you a cab?”

You smiled at his concern. “Relax, I'm walking to my dorm.”

“Are you close?” he asked.

You clicked the button to the elevator. “Yeah, just about to head up. So, why did you bid on me?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you stepped into the elevator.

Joel's voice was thoughtful. “You caught my eye. There was something about you that stood out.”

“Stood out how?” you pressed, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Hard to explain,” he replied. “But I felt like I needed to know more about you.”

You smiled, feeling a strange mix of flattery and suspicion. “Well, now you know I like to paint landscapes.”

Joel laughed softly. “Yeah, and I'd still like to see your work sometime.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out into the hallway. “Maybe someday,” you said, walking towards your dorm room.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” Joel said, his voice steady and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a student, obviously. Trying to make ends meet with a couple of part-time jobs. I like reading, painting, and trying to keep my head above water with school.”

Joel listened intently. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, but it keeps me busy,” you replied, unlocking your dorm room door and stepping inside.

“What about you?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

Joel sighed. "Not much to tell. My brother and I run a high-earning contracting business. It keeps us pretty busy, moving around a lot."

You sat on your bed, kicking off your shoes. "Sounds exciting. What kind of contracting?"

"Construction, mostly. Big projects, high stakes," he replied. "We take on jobs that require precision and a lot of planning. It's demanding but rewarding."

You leaned back against your pillows, trying to relax after the chaotic night. "It must be nice to see something you've built come together."

"Yeah, it is," Joel agreed, his tone softening slightly. "There's a satisfaction in creating something lasting."

There was a pause, a moment of comfortable silence, before Joel cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you about something."

You tensed, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Some things came up in your file," Joel began, choosing his words carefully. "Things I think we should discuss."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Like what?"

Joel hesitated before speaking again. "It mentions you're a virgin."

Your breath caught in your throat, the bluntness of his words hitting hard. "Why does that matter?"

"It’s part of the agreement we entered into," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I want to talk about what that means for both of us."

You sat up, heart pounding. "I don't understand."

"I'd like you to come over to my place for the weekend," Joel continued. "We can go over the contract, and I can answer any questions you have. It's important that we’re both on the same page."

The suggestion hung heavily in the air, the implications clear. You felt a mix of fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite identify. "This is all very sudden," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Joel replied gently. "But it’s important. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything. That you understand what's expected."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I come over... what happens then?"

"We talk," Joel said simply. "We figure out what this means for us. And we take it from there."

The weight of the decision pressed down on you. The night had already been overwhelming, and now this. But there was a part of you that was intrigued, that wanted to know more about this enigmatic man and what he wanted from you.

"Okay," you said finally. "I’ll come over this weekend."

"Good," Joel replied, a note of relief in his voice. "I'll pick you up on Friday evening."

Thursday night, your phone buzzed with a message from Joel. You opened it, heart pounding, eager to see what he had to say.

"Hey, I wanted to give you some more details for this weekend. I'll pick you up at 6 PM tomorrow evening."

You read the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Another message followed.

"Pack enough clothes for a couple of days. Casual is fine, but bring something nicer for dinner. And anything else you might need to feel comfortable."

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly. "Got it. Anything else I should bring?"

A few moments later, Joel's reply came through. "Just yourself. And an open mind."

You set your phone down, the weight of the upcoming weekend settling in. You began to mentally prepare yourself, thinking through what to pack and what to expect.

The next day passed in a blur of nervous energy. You spent most of the afternoon packing a small suitcase, carefully selecting clothes that fit Joel's description. Casual wear, a nicer dress for dinner, and a few personal items that you hoped would make you feel at ease.

As the clock approached 6 PM, you found yourself pacing your dorm room, second-guessing your decisions. Your phone buzzed again, breaking the cycle of your anxious thoughts.

"I'm here," read Joel's message.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your suitcase, and headed outside. The evening air was cool against your skin as you spotted Joel's black Ford F-150 parked near the entrance. He stepped out as you approached, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours with a steady gaze.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, trying to muster a smile.

He took your suitcase and placed it in the bed of the truck, then opened the passenger door for you. You slipped inside

As Joel started the truck and drove away from campus, you stole glances at him, trying to read his expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken questions and possibilities.

"Do you have any questions before we get there?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

You thought for a moment, then decided to voice your concerns. "What exactly are we going to discuss?"

Joel's eyes flicked over to you briefly before returning to the road. "We'll go over the details of our arrangement, make sure you understand everything. And I want to make sure you're comfortable with the terms."

You nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with his straightforwardness. "And... what happens if I'm not?"

"Then we figure it out together," Joel said firmly. "This is about making sure we're both on the same page."

The city lights gradually gave way to the serene, picturesque landscape of the countryside. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and tranquil lakes, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

Eventually, Joel turned onto a narrow, winding road that led to a secluded lakeside property. The house that came into view was stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance. Nestled among tall trees and overlooking a pristine lake, it felt like a world away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Joel parked the truck and helped you with your suitcase, guiding you to the front door. As you stepped inside, the warmth and comfort of the house enveloped you. Hardwood floors, large windows, and tasteful decor created an inviting atmosphere.

"Welcome to my home," Joel said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Let me give you a tour."

He led you through the spacious living room, with its cozy fireplace and plush furniture. The kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and a large island. Joel showed you the dining area, which offered a breathtaking view of the lake through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"We'll have dinner here later," he said, pausing to let you take in the view. "It's one of my favorite spots in the house."

You continued the tour, passing a home office, a library filled with books, and a den with a large flat-screen TV. Finally, Joel led you upstairs to the guest room where you would be staying. The room was beautifully decorated, with a comfortable bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom.

"Make yourself at home," Joel said, setting your suitcase down. "Dinner is at 8 PM. Please put on something nice; I want to discuss our contract in a more professional way."

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Thank you, Joel."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time to settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

After he left, you took a moment to unpack and freshen up. You chose a dress that you hoped struck the right balance between elegance and professionalism. As you prepared for dinner, your mind raced with questions about what Joel would say and what the future might hold.

At precisely 8 PM, you made your way downstairs. The dining table was set with care, and Joel stood by the window, gazing out at the lake. He turned as you approached, his eyes taking in your appearance with a brief but appreciative glance.

"You look lovely," he said, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you replied, taking your seat.

The table was set perfectly, with red roses in the center adding a touch of elegance. Joel's seat was at the head, and yours was next to him.

“So, what do you think?” Joel asked, watching as you took a sip of wine.

“Of the house?” You giggled for a moment, setting your glass down. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

Joel smiled. “And the food?”

You glanced down at your plate and took a bite. “Oh, shit.” You hadn’t expected it to taste so good.Joel had prepared: a perfectly seared filet mignon, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus sautéed with garlic and lemon zest. The flavors were so rich.

Joel's smile widened. “Eat up. We’ll go over the details once we’re done. Oh, and that’s going to be your only glass of wine tonight.”

You looked at Joel, puzzled. He quickly explained, “You’re still only 20, and you need a clear head. The wine’s just to take the edge off.”

Joel took a sip of his own wine, and you let your mind wander. The meal was mostly silent, the clattering of plates being the loudest sound in the house. Faith had talked to you last night and helped you pick out your dress. She and Tommy were doing well, and she used her contract to help explain what yours might be like.

The first document was what you expected: an NDA agreement. It was short and to the point.

The second form you picked up was different from what Faith had described. Instead of being a "down and dirty" list, the title read, "Contractual Agreement of Limits Between Dominant and Submissive."

“So, don’t be scared or intimidated by the second form,” Faith had said. “It may sound daunting, but it’s just to make sure you’re comfortable with what will happen. I can help you through it. The rest, well… you and your Dom will be having lots and lots, and I mean lots, of experimental sex.”

You gasped and playfully hit her. “Not for my first time, right?” you asked, anxious.

Faith laughed and gave you a teasing look. “Not right away. But if your Dom wants to do that, it’s up to them. It’s all about consent. And don’t worry, you’ll… you’ll have fun. I promise. And if you need more time to be ready, there are plenty of ways to experiment and get comfortable. Just remember, you always have the right to say ‘no’ and stop the session. Your Dom is there to make you feel pleasure, not discomfort.”

Back in the present, Joel watched you with a calm intensity as you finished your meal. he stood and retrieved the vanilla folder. He opened it and laid the documents on the table. 

“First, the NDA,” Joel said. “It ensures that everything we discuss and do remains confidential.” He slid the paper and a pen toward you. After reading it carefully, you signed and handed it back.

“Now, the contract,” Joel continued, placing the more detailed document in front of you. “This outlines our arrangement, including boundaries, limits, and expectations. It's important to be thorough so we’re both on the same page.”

You scanned the pages, your eyes catching on certain terms and conditions that made you blush. Joel patiently walked you through each section.

“Section one covers our roles. I’ll be the Dominant, and you’ll be the submissive,” he explained. “This section also outlines the responsibilities we each have.”

“What if I’m not comfortable with something?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Joel’s expression softened. “That’s what section two is for. It lists hard limits—things you absolutely don’t want to do—and soft limits—things you might be open to exploring over time.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but reassured by Joel's explanations about safewords and aftercare. Suddenly, something washed over you, and you stood from your seat. Taking his and your plates, along with the silverware and glasses, you moved toward Joel's kitchen. He followed you, confused.

“Hey? What's the matter?” he asked.

You smiled at him and grabbed the other dishes left on the table. “The table's dirty. That's no way to do business,” you joked as you began to wash the dishes. “Do you have a garbage disposal?”

Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. He reached over to grab a towel, gently drying your hands and ridding them of soap.

You sighed. “I'm a virgin.” Joel looked into your eyes intently as you continued, giving up on formality. “Fuck, Joel, I'm nervous. I'm not even sure if I want to have sex. The closest I've gotten to having sex is my vibrator.”

Joel let go of your hands. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the counter.

“What?” you asked, surprised.

“Sit.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” And with that, he kissed you.

His lips were firm yet gentle against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened as his hands found their way to your waist, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. You could taste the lingering wine on his lips, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

Joel's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them, allowing him in. The kiss grew more intense, more demanding, as his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body reacting to his touch in ways you hadn't anticipated. The sensation of his tongue exploring your mouth, combined with the heat of his body pressed against yours, ignited a fire within you. You felt yourself melting into him, your previous nervousness beginning to dissipate.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you charged with electricity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah. That was...”

“Intense?” he finished for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Tonight, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.”

His rough, calloused hands slid up your dress, sending shivers down your spine. "Unless you want to try something..." he murmured, his voice low and tantalizing. You blushed, biting your lip as you looked up at Joel.

He pulled you in for another deep, passionate kiss before moving to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to the parts of your skin that weren't covered by your dress. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs gently. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Shh... trust me," he whispered, his hands wandering under your dress to pull down your panties. He slid them into his pocket with a mischievous grin before returning his attention to you. His lips brushed over your calves, teasing you lightly as you bit your lip in anticipation.

Joel suddenly lifted your legs over his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your clit. The sensation made your legs tremble, the warmth of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Without holding back, he began to explore you with his mouth, his tongue lapping up every drop of your arousal as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You moaned, your head falling back against the cabinet with a soft thud, but you didn't care. When Joel paused to check if you were okay, you grabbed his salt-and-pepper hair, pushing him further into your pussy. He gripped your legs harder, his tongue moving faster as your moans grew louder.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, panting as your orgasm built. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, and you finally came on his face. Joel let your legs slide off his shoulders, wiping his mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Dessert was good," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Instead of responding, you swiftly pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The night had only just begun, and you were ready for whatever came next.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. Scooping you up in his strong arms, he carried you princess-style up to the guest room where you were staying. He set you gently on your feet, his touch lingering. "Use the bathroom," he instructed, his voice firm but caring.

You nodded and went to the bathroom, the cool tile floor grounding you after the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. When you emerged, you found Joel had set out your pajamas neatly on the bed. Next to them was a note in his bold handwriting: "Forget the contract. I have something better in mind."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the note, a blend of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you.

[el-jarado]

Turning some Epic AUs over in my head, and one that's appealed to me is Odysseus and the boys actually succeeding in the wind bag trial only to fail to make it home anyway because Odysseus has not yet learned you don't win god games, you play them helplessly until the god decides they're done with you.

Odysseus listens when Aeolus presents their game; the bag is a tool, not the game itself. He's being challenged to a battle of wits; he boasted mere moments earlier to his shaken men that he led 600 men to battle and none of them died there, but he's lost men since then. Is he a good enough captain to know how the men he has left will act when besieged by rumor?

And Odysseus rises to the challenge, greeting the difficulties with open arms like Polities would but remembering to use his wits. He has Eurylochus assemble a team to guard the bag; as the good man he wants to be, he soothes a moment of doubt with a gesture of trust, setting to work mending the cracks in his friendship with his brother. As the cunning man he is, he sends a message to any other doubters in the crew that he and Eurylochus are on the same page, and everyone else should be following their lead. He keeps his eyes on the men Eurylochus trusts with the task; they have been honored by his gesture, and so have motivation to deserve it...and quietly, Odysseus makes sure he knows who's guarding the bag and when, and they know he knows. Anyone who betrays them will be found out swiftly, and Odysseus sleeps soundly knowing his men will want to live up to his faith in their loyalty, and fear carrying the blame and facing the consequences if they don't.

The whispers on the wind are wily, but Odysseus is wilier, and bit by bit he stokes optimism in his shaken crew. Morale improves as they get closer and closer to Ithaca, and maybe Odysseus's assurance teeters on hubris; he does not correct the men when they start to laugh and joke again, saying to each other their Captain can even outwit the gods. He needs them to believe that; not forever, just for a few days. Just until he gets them home.

Odysseus lives up to his new ideals, and leads from the heart even as his guile tries to make sure of things. He plays Aeolus's game and wins, but as Ithaca approaches, Eurylochus's words ring true; don't forget how dangerous the gods are. As Ithaca comes into sight, Aeolus's business with Odysseus and his men is finished.

Poseidon's, however, has just begun.

Amusing the wind god for ten days has done nothing to calm the fury of the sea god, and Odysseus suddenly finds himself on the losing end of a game he didn't even know he was playing. Poseidon sent the storm to crush them and block their path, and when Odysseus's scheme stilled it, Poseidon lay in wait should the storm win free. Had it been released, he was ready to drown Odysseus's fleet wherever it landed, but with the storm still trapped, Poseidon watches and waits until Odysseus is in Ithican waters before rising from the sea to have his reckoning with the man who blinded his son. Odysseus won the god game, but Athena is not watching over him and Aeolus has neither the power nor the inclination to stay Poseidon's hand. Odysseus's only prize for winning the game is that all of his subjects can watch Poseidon make an example of him and his fleet.

Odysseus has let his men believe he can outwit even the weather, even the gods themselves; he had to, to make sure they would not be led astray by rumor on the wind. Now, however, the truth is laid bare; Odysseus floats in waters he has long considered his, only to find they owe their true loyalty to the angry god tossing the fleet about like toys. There is no strategy that can calm or trick Poseidon, no attack that can drive him away, no way to evade him. Odysseus stares at the shores of Ithaca; he could swim there if the waters were calm, but with Poseidon's will set against him, his home might as well be on the moon for all he can reach it. Somewhere, he knows, Penelope and Telemachus are rushing to the shoreline, and he has no way to escape the doom that has found him there.

No way, except one. No way, except for the winds he was warned would blow him halfway across the world if he let them free.

Odysseus looks at the god looming above, taking his time in the role of executioner; he looks at the bag that is his only way out. He looks at the shores he has thought about every day for the last ten years.

"Please don't make me do this, don't make me do this."

[sirowsky]

5. Why are you covered in sparkly pink dust? + Dieter Bravo

Super fluffy, happy, cute one with Dieter, his wife and their adorable 3 year old son happily celebrating his wife's niece's quinceañera, please?

I'm so sorry if my earlier reply made you feel like I don't wanna write your request, that was not my intention 🙏 I just wanted to let you know what my limitations are with those characters and that subject, so that you know not to expect a brilliant story.

The whole point of a challenge like this is for me to write whatever my readers/followers want me to, even if it's not exactly within my comfort zone. So, if this is what you want, then I will happily do my best to write it 😊

(I only ask that you don't expect a tela novela, because that is sadly beyond my skillset 😇)

[justanechoflower]

I see...we have a tie...that is...PERFECT! We needed and have our top two, winning hand in hand and skipping gaily through a meadow singing "Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows!" What a beautiful pair! They genuinely sound fun tho. And one of them i was rooting for so I'm happy :3)

For the first one you may pair an expression from this sheet:

You may choose any Undertale or Deltarune character. It could be for the tsundre cactus or Sans' pet rock for all I care. Around 10 requests will be accepted, no repeat faces but for characters I don't care. (Might end up more or less depending on the # of requests I get or time preferences.)

Please send requests as asks! The second event I'll come up with on my own since it is an original comic strip.

[linahopeeeee]

Just The Tip

ღ Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x reader

ღ Summary: Izuku promises to just put the tip in

ღ Words: 600

ღ Notes: what is this? It probably sucks but I’m bored and high so I’ll give it to you guys anyway 😌

MDNI

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“please bunny? just the tip I promise, I just really need to feel you” your boyfriend Izuku begs. Your best friends Katsuki and Eijirou are having a housewarming party tonight to celebrate the house that they just bought together and the two of you are already late.

“cant you just wait till we get home later?” you question from your spot in the passenger seat, your checking to make sure your lip stick isn’t smudge.

“besides you always say just the tip” you start, lowering your voice to make yourself sound more like him “and its never just the tip” you finish.

“I know but it’ll really just be the tip this time, I’m so hard it hurts, you wouldn’t want me to be in pain all night would you?” he uses his best puppy dog eyes against you, bottom lip poked out into a pout.

“fine, you get five minutes and I swear if I see even a drop of cum on my dress you won’t be getting any for the next week” you warn him, already taking your seatbelt off and climbing into the backseat, a smirking Izuku following.

Your sliding your underwear down your legs and tossing them somewhere in the front as Izuku pushes his pants down his thighs, stroking himself a couple of times before he’s lining himself up at your entrance.

“fuck” he grunts as your tightness swallows him greedily, he smirks to himself at how wet you are for someone who didn’t even want to do this, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he uses his thumb to collect some of your slick, bringing it up to your clit and rubbing precise circles, he only has five minutes to get you to cum and that’s a challenge he’s willing to accept.

“fuck z-zu” you stutter as the tip of his cock brushes against that spot deep inside your walls. Your hands get tangled in his curly green hair, as you pull him down, lips sucking roughly on his neck, a small hickey forming instantly.

“god you’re so tight” he groans as his lips find yours in a heated kiss. You’re so lost in the pleasure you don’t even care that he’s ruining the makeup it took you half an hour to perfect earlier, all you care about is the familiar tightening in your stomach, walls clenching around Izuku.

You can tell he’s close too, with the way his cock keeps twitching inside of you and his thrusts are getting sloppy.

“where do you want me to cum?” Izuku asks, lips against your neck, teeth softly grazing the exposed skin.

“i-inside” you moan when he brings his hand back down to flick at your clit, as he releases inside of you, painting your walls white.

After a quick mirror check to make sure you both look okay, your walking hand in hand to the door, smiling when Katsuki opens it up, he has an annoyed look on his face when he spots deku but breaks out into a grin when he notices the mark left on his neck.

“next time you have sex with your girlfriend in a car, you probably shouldn’t do it in someone driveway” Katsuki says with a chuckle, laughing harder when he sees the way Izuku’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turn red, before walking away.

Izuku stands embarrassed by the door for a couple of moments before walking the the direction Katsuki just went, happily greeting the rest of the party.

[permettez-moi]

Ranger's apprentice dashboard simulator:

🦊 theonlyguythatmatters

I hope the Gods all come down to earth to smite us fools who dared to challenge the whims of fate

🦊theonlyguythatmatters

Sorry guys I ran out of coffee

52 notes

👤ranger-no Follow

I've said it before and I'll say it again: honey in your coffee is the only right thing in this world

🦋Will-you-Treaty-me-right

Did you have an argument about it with theonlyguythatmatters again

👤ranger-no Follow

Did I ask you

🦋Will-you-Treaty-me-right

No I asked you

7 notes

🤺TheSunriseWarrior

Thinking back to that time I stayed in Gallica and ate the best mashed potatoes of my life. Alligot? Something. Much cheese. I will miss you always

💛Jennyskitchen Follow

Boil 600 grams of peeled floury potatoes in garlic and salt water. Mash em (keep a bit of the water in them for juicyness)

Chop 330 grammes of cantal cheese in small bits and add it all at once to the hot mashed potatoes, stir until fully molten. Add spices to your own liking

🤺TheSunriseWarrior

I love you

💛Jennyskitchen Follow

Only for you big guy

☻️wizzard-ranger Follow

Hey guys isn't this the prince

340K notes

🌟Eventuallyn

Me: maybe we should stop cursing so much around our child

My husband: it builds character

🌟Eventuallyn

My husband: the child is discovering violence

Me: what did you do

My husband: nothing yet

🌟Eventuallyn

Me: why is the child screaming like this

My husband: the child discovered violence goes both way

🌟Eventuallyn

Me: do you sometimes think we're doing wrong by our child

My husband (lovingly): have you met the child? I think it would be impossible to do right by the child

23 notes

📅YourDailyDoseOfRecentHistory

Did I ever tell you guys the story of how a bunch of horses got stolen from a Temujai army, and somehow no-one noticed or cared

🦋Will-you-Treaty-me-right

No please do tell us

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[marshmellin]

He Always Gives You One (1) ☝️

Explicit content under the cut. Rated S for Smut, 6.3K words, Gil-galad x unnamed woman, 2nd person POV, no use of y/n or female's name, bratting and spanking

You jutted your chin out and took in a large breath, leaning forward so your breasts pushed against the solid muscle of his chest. “Are you unable to come up with ideas on your own, High King? Do you not have a plan? You have had me dressed and dragged to your quarters hours before a ridiculous, boring formal dinner party and you do not yet know what you wish to do with me during that time?”

Oh, that one was risky, but you let it linger.

Tags: Truly porn without plot, bratting and brat taming kink with Gil-galad as a soft!Dom. Includes elements of playfully saying "no," or being 'mouthy' with Gil-galad, but consent is clear and behavior is consistent with typical light bratting. Includes fingering, light spanking, and giving minor commands to the woman. No beta, we die like Valendil (forgive me for that last tag)

Note: I meant for this to be like...600 words of soft!Dom Gilgadaddy headcanons and here the fuck we are. Not a bad place to wind up, honestly.

Again: explicit content under the cut. Mind the tags.

//

Despite being the king of the largest realm — Elven or otherwise — in Middle Earth, Gil-galad often finds himself not being listened to. Whether it's pushback from his commanders or his advisors or the other rulers and realms around him, he spends most of his days compromising with others. Negotiating something necessary and  important into something almost-but-not-quite-what-he-wanted. 

Gil-galad finds this extremely frustrating.

He is also mired in a constant cycle of pleasantries and curtsies and polite gestures he is required to make on a near-daily basis as High King, regardless of how he feels or whom he would prefer to spend time with or if he would simply like a break from the constant churning demands of what is proper here and what is an insult there.  

Gil-galad finds this extremely frustrating as well. 

Which is why he has taken so much pleasure in his relationship with you. 

Because Gil-galad also finds you to be very, very, very frustrating. You also do not listen to him. You also angle for him to concede compromises in ways that you should not ask for. You also wheedle and argue and push back against his wishes and commands and requests. You ignore what he is and the power he wields as a king. Intentionally. Every time. 

Yet with you — unlike all the other duties Gil-galad must attend to, and all the other compromises Gil-galad must make, and all the other concessions Gil-galad must agree to — he chooses to call for you instead. To focus on you. To talk you down. To make you sing for him. 

To tame you. 

Every time. 

And every time he controls the way he spends his evenings with you, gently chides you to follow his wishes, plainly tells you to stop fighting and give in as he discovers new ways to make you come apart… you both win. 

It’s a game you play very willingly. 

So when he sent a note that requested you come join him in his chambers, you scribbled back a hasty, impertinent, “Why? Try harder, Ereinion, I am bored,” and made the courier complete his circuit back to Gil-galad for the sixth time that day. 

When Gil-galad told you over breakfast that he would very much enjoy your company at a formal dinner that evening, you told him no and challenged him to make you go. You said you did not want to. That you will never want to. You said he can not make you, that you won’t do it. That he did not decide. 

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow and warned you once — he always gives you one (1) — his voice low and rumbling in his chest. “I am pleased to hear that you will attend with me.”

You raised an eyebrow and shook your head firmly, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him. “You heard no such thing from me.”

“I do not suggest you test my resolve on this request, clever one.”

You decided instantly that you will, in fact, test his resolve on that request. So when the evening came, you sat rigidly at the end of your bed in your own chambers, fully dressed from head to toe for a formal (and boring) dinner event. You had prepared hours early and you had been ready to go to him at least an hour ago. But you intentionally had not joined him in his rooms at the time he requested. 

The time he requested so that you could spend time together before you attended this boring dinner. 

You knew he would not allow you to ignore him for long. The thought made your thighs clench. 

Gil-galad sent exactly one (1) courier with exactly one (1) note. In the king’s own very neat, precise handwriting: “I wish to see you before dinner. My request requires no further discussion, and therefore the courier will not return with a message for me, no matter how often you ask it of him. Come to me now.”

That tempted you — he knew it would, because that is why he wrote it — and you immediately asked the courier if he would take a note to Gil-galad in return. The elf looked half-frightened and backed his way out of the room, shaking his head and muttering something about troop reports. You watched him spin to the left and march quickly toward Gil-galad’s chambers. 

Reports, indeed. 

When the two guards came to your quarters exactly five (5) minutes later, they found you at your self-appointed place at the end of the bed, sitting with your hands on your lap. Fully dressed with nowhere to go. They asked for you to follow, saying High King Gil-galad urgently requested your presence, if you would not mind following them to his quarters. 

They asked politely, but the set of their jaws suggest it was not a request from Gil-galad, but a command. 

You acquiesce for the first — and you know not the last — time this night. 

When you arrive, Gil-galad opened the door and waved away the guards before guiding you into the room by the arm. He was very gentle. He was very quiet. And for a moment he gazed down at you with a mild look of disapproval etched on his handsome face. He even tsked gently as he brought his hand up to cup your chin, nudging you to look at him and meet his gaze. 

You very pointedly rolled your eyes. 

“Did you lose track of time after receiving my message?” he asked slowly, his voice dangerously low. “You did not come to me when I called for you.”

A warrior and a gentleman, you think wryly. He is giving you room to apologize. To blame your petulance on a mistake or confusion. 

Gil-galad always gives you one. 

“No, I did not lose track of anything, Ereinion,” you said casually, pulling yourself from his hand — that took more willpower than you wanted it to for so early in the evening. You strolled past him toward the large windows facing west. “I’ve decided to make you make me. It will give you something to do with your day. You seem to have too much free time and nothing to do with it.” You leaned against his desk, your hands propping you up, fingers curling around the edge. 

Gil-galad tilted his head, the spark in his eyes at your combative attitude the only sign that confirmed he very, very much would like you to be an absolute brat right now. You’re happy to oblige him. 

“‘Make me make you,’” he repeated softly, taking slow, determined steps toward you. Gil-galad’s frown deepened. “Tell me, clever one,” he commanded softly. “How did you expect me to make you obey?”

Obey was a word he knew excited you very, very much. And it was also a trap. There was never a time this question was not a trap. Sneaky, handsome bastard. 

If you told him what you were thinking — all the wonderful, exciting ways he could “punish” you for being mouthy and make you obey him...he would know you want it. It would not be a punishment if you wanted it. And therefore, he might not give it to you. He would hold back. To teach you not to be mouthy again. 

But… if you told him honestly how much you want him to show you he is in command here, how much you’re being mouthy simply because you want his full focus, then he may decide to give you what he already knows you want. To teach you that he will always take care of you despite how mouthy you get. 

Gil-galad had done both to you before in equal measure. He had shown you, quite thoroughly, that both routes had merits.

Trap.

Gil-galad took another step forward, pinning you to the desk as he loomed over you, hands clasped behind his back. If you both breathed in at the same time, your breasts would brush his chest. Or, at least, against the eight layers of fabric on his chest. His voice was still low, and his motions unhurried. Unconcerned. A patient man dealing with an unruly woman in his spare time between managing a kingdom and a war. 

“Tell me,” Gil-galad commanded again. Not a note of impatience in him, despite the tone of authority. “I remain confused. How did you expect me to make you, a grown woman, obey me? You must have had some semblance of an expectation, certainly, since you seem so eager to test the limits of my patience. What did you hope I would do to you today if you did not obey me?”

You had always had a push and pull with Gil-galad when you played like this. And you could tell that tonight he needed to control more than you needed to be controlled.

You jutted your chin out and took in a large breath, leaning forward so your breasts pushed against the solid muscle of his chest. “Are you unable to come up with ideas on your own, High King? Do you not have a plan? You have had me dressed and dragged to your quarters hours before a ridiculous, boring formal dinner party and you do not yet know what you wish to do with me during that time?” 

Oh, that one was risky, but you let it linger.

His face was still smooth as he nodded, absorbing your words as though listening to an ambassador or advisor. Weighing them carefully. You cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say, “well?” 

And then his demeanor flipped and he acted as though he had just described lightning to you and you had never seen it before. “Ah-ha, I see. You have not yet accepted how this evening will proceed for you and you think you can sway me by being irritable. Unfortunate, but not wholly unexpected.” He took two large steps back — you bit back a sigh at the loss of warmth — and turned toward the very large chair in the corner of his study. “You will behave and listen to me tonight, or I will make you.”

He paused and his head cocked, evaluating you. “And we will start now. Will you follow reasonably, or will you force me to direct you through each step as though you are a living doll?”

Not an unattractive prospect. You filed that away for later. 

“Oh, fear not, High King, I would not have you waste your strength on that.” You push yourself off the desk toward him and follow. He sits down very gracefully, layers and layers and layers of gold fabric billowing around him, amusement at your — tired, stale, familiar, intentional, irrational, minor — insults. You stand in front of him, your face expectant. “And?” you ask sarcastically. 

“Please kneel,” he offered gently, as if suggesting you have tea with him. 

You snorted. “Why?” 

“Because I have asked you to.”

“Not enough of a reason. Don’t care if you asked. Don’t care what you want. I am bored and find I would prefer to return to my rooms, if there is nothing else?” You crossed your arms defiantly. Or you hoped defiantly. Your nipples were already stiff peaks, pushing through the purposefully sheer fabric of the dress you chose. 

You could talk a big game at the start, but…

He paused, evaluating you. “If you behave for me today, I will give you a gift. If you do not– ”

That got your interest immediately. “What gift?”

He leaned back into this chair — this throne in his study — you always used. Your eyes flicked down and you saw how hard he was growing under his robe. You licked your lips, slowly, just staring at his cock as though it might hold the answer to that incredibly important question. 

It did. 

“Observant, clever one, even if a tad unfocused. Perhaps you would prefer to sit on my lap instead of kneeling?” Gil-galad paused. “That is the first gift I will give you tonight. You can choose.”

You paused and just stared at him. You could see the outline of his cock under the one (1) layer of clothing left on his lap. Your thoughts were starting to turn syrupy. He was going to take you apart and put you back together tonight. The tone in his voice promised he would. 

And then you were going to have to eat salad and make small talk with ambassadors immediately after he was done with it. 

That made your thoughts even less coherent. Heat coiled in your stomach and you felt a damp trail of wetness start to run down your leg. Assuming he let you both finish before this ridiculous dinner and did not make you wait…

No, he was softer than that. Gil-galad always gives you one. 

He tsked again, dipping his head to meet your eyes, pulling you back to this moment. To him. To his focus. “Which. do. you. choose.” he asked more insistently, allowing impatience to creep into his voice. “If you do not choose, I will choose for you.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Your lap, I guess. That will at least stop you from looming over me as if your height is a bragging point. It is not, by the way.”

Gil-galad smiled softly and simply pointed at his lap, inviting you up. 

You clambered over toward him and hiked up the miles of skirts you wore, flashing him outright and intentionally as you brought the fabric up to your waist. You noticed the small — and extremely interested — change in his face when he noticed you had chosen to go bare under your dress for dinner this evening. 

He accidentally showed you he was eager. So you decided to move slowly. 

Annoyingly slowly. 

You were obeying him. He could not say you did not obey him. But you were not doing it in the way he wanted.

Gil-galad arched an eyebrow at you as you moved slowly, skirts gathered high and legs free as you inched towards him. You took your time to plant your knees on the chair, to move up, to shimmy closer to him — all incredibly unhurried. All incredibly half-naked 

He wanted you in his lap. You wanted you in his lap. So you must make it difficult for you both. That was the point. 

You made sure to scoop up your skirts several times, soft fabric hitting him gently in the face as you gathered it in your arms and settled against him. You did it again and a third time before he emitted a low warning sound from deep in his chest.  

So you lightly rustled your skirts in his face one more time. To test him. He reached for your wrists and gently but firmly lowered your hands, making you let go of the fabric and pulling your wrists to your sides. “Do not do that again,” Gil-galad said firmly. “Behave yourself and sit properly, or I will make you.”

Your legs finally bracketed his thighs and you faced him, on your knees above his lap. You knew you were ruining his robe right now because you were so wet you were dripping down your leg. His fault, really, for wearing golden embroidered fabric when he brought you here to f–

“I said sit,” Gil-galad chided, gently this time, his hands sliding up your thighs to settle on your hips. “You are an uncommonly smart woman, and yet I find myself surprised at how often you fail to follow very clear and simple directions when we are together. Why is that?” 

After a long moment of staring at him, he took the choice from you, pressing you down off your knees so you were in full contact with his lap. His length notched against you with his robe now the only thing between you. If you squirmed right, you could get that fabric to move…

He rocked you against himself once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped you, so you stretched into it, moaning louder and grinding down on his lap.  

Yep. That robe was ruined.

Gil-galad stilled and gently cupped your chin again, forcing your eyes to meet his, his other hand pinning you against his lap. You experimentally tried to rock your hips anyway, but he held you in place with one hand grabbing your hip so you could not grind against him— removing that rutting sensation from you. Limiting your options. 

One handed. Yes, ellons were generally stronger than elleths, but this was ridiculous now, Ereninion, seriously. 

You whimpered in protest. “I am not a plaything,” you managed to say convincingly, despite the deep, gnawing ache between your legs and your head chanting at you let him play with you let him play with you let him let him. “And I’m tired of you thinking I am.”

Gil-galad sighed and let his hand drop from your face. “That is not my question.”

“A pity, for it is the only answer I will give you,” you shoot back.

Tsking loudly, he shook his head.” Unfortunately, your attitude continues to leave us with fewer and fewer options for this evening,” he murmured. Broad hands slid up your sides, splaying against your back as he gently pulled you closer. 

“You claim I act as though I own you as one would a toy…” he paused as if in thought, fingers tapping against you gently. He rolled his hips up to meet your core again and you shuddered. “That I treat you as a plaything? I would disagree strongly with that assertion.” He pulled you closer to finally, finally kiss you deeply, nipping at your bottom lip, pressing you into his chest.

“A plaything?” Gil-galad echoed again, now trailing kisses down your neck. You willed yourself silent because if you moaned now, he would stop on principle. 

Gil-galad pretended to consider something intently as he played with the collar of your decidedly not-quite-opaque gown. He ghosted the back of his hands across your breasts and you nearly flushed with embarrassment at how needy your body was by now without it consulting you. 

Self-traitor, you thought as he cupped your breasts, one in each hand, and murmured appreciatively. His thumbs flicked over your nipples. 

“I understand the problem now. You view plaything as a negative term. I assure you it is not. Perhaps I have not played enough with you lately?” Gil-galad tugged on your nipples now, just this shy of too much, and your eyes fluttered shut. He tugged again hard enough to bring you forward and you rutted against his lap. The heat was building very quickly now and he hadn’t even…. 

“Do you feel you have not been properly played with?” 

You give a sullen sound of agreement and begin squirm as he continued playing with your nipples and giving you absolutely no other stimulation.

“Tell me.” He pinched again sharply before his fingers smoothed out as though brushing away the bite of it. 

“I don’t want to say it.”

“You do not have to, of course. But if you do not, we will not continue.” A harmless threat, as his hands had not stilled and he was roving over your abdomen.

“I feel neglected.” A gush of wetness between your legs as you swallowed thickly, reminding yourself not to end it too soon. 

Gil-galad growled and reached between your bodies to cup you over the skirt, his fingers pressing against you. The fabric was almost too rough against your clit and you gasped, your hands flying to his chest to brace against him. He pressed against you again, pushing a knuckle closer to your clit and sighed, looking down. “So wet you’ve soaked through your dress, but yet you are arguing for the sake of it. Tell me what you want properly or you will not get it,” he ended simply.

You rutted against him again, finding your voice, determined to draw it out. You huffed at him. “Fine. I do not feel played with enough lately. I feel neglected and you have not made time for me.” You started rutting against him out of rhythm. Mercifully, he let you, hands still settling around your hips but no longer forcing you not to move. He started rocking his hips again up to you and you moaned. He stilled immediately. 

Caught. 

“And yet, despite acknowledging you very much wish to be treated as a plaything, as a toy I spend my time to play with, you seem to think you are in charge of this evening. Mm.” The whine you made this time was not an act. “I find your attitude is in dire need of adjustment. Do you agree?”

You challenged him, fire in your eyes because you wanted to tussle with him but still lose. You were also incredibly eager to have his fingers inside you and if you pushed him hard enough he’d take you there faster. 

“I hate repeating myself, but—”

Gil-galad cut you off. “Do you agree you need to adjust your attitude tonight, yes or no?”

You met his question with silence. 

Sharp brown eyes considered you. He rocked his knuckle against your clit through the fabric of your dress again, keeping you aching and focused. 

“Answer me.”

The ache was spreading and your legs felt like jelly in his lap. That thin piece of gold brocade had already been moved aside, and you weren’t sure if you did it or he did it, but you straddled his bare cock now. Valar forgive you, but you ached and you knew a way out. 

It was to not answer him. Yet again. You had now failed to answer him correctly three (3) times in a row. 

Gil-galad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Punishment. Choose one or I will.”

A brave face. More silence. 

Four times – especially when you were this wet – was unprecedented. But you had just done it anyway. You wanted to get there faster and you could tell he did too. 

Gil-galad tsked again, ever patient but irritated. “I did warn you what would happen if you did not listen. And you did not listen.” He could not hide that his cock twitched under you.

Your thoughts felt syrupy again as he gripped your thighs and started rocking you against his length, skin against skin covered in a truly embarrassing amount of your slick. The head of his cock brushing you open. He lifted you up and for a brief, blissful moment you thought he would sink into you, bury himself so deep you could feel it in your chest. 

But no, he would not take you as a “punishment.” 

Smoothly he lifted you up and flipped you so you were sprawled face down and sideways across his lap. 

It seemed he was in the mood to give you the one thing you craved the most, the one he knew made you feel both played with and tended to, without even really asking for it. The one that would finally shut. you. up. You absolutely must not look eager. You froze your limbs — Gil-galad would notice if you were too greedy too fast. You would wait for him. 

Sternly, he began arranging you across his lap as though you weighed nothing. He grabbed your chin, still gentle but his hand had snatched out fast, forcing you to look at him. “You will count as we go. If you lose your place, we will start again. And again. And again. Until I am convinced you are listening to what I say to you.”

His hands explored you now, followed the curve of your ass down to the back of your thighs. One warm, splayed hand rested at the nape of your neck, now pushing your face toward the floor as you half-hung off his lap. You clenched your thighs together and squirmed. 

“Tell me what you heard me say.”

You swallowed again. He started pulling your skirts up, pooling the extra fabric at your waist, his other hand never leaving the nape of your neck. 

“I will not repeat it,” he said firmly, hand now cupping your bare ass, stroking down to your legs like he was petting an animal. “The longer you fight me, the longer you wait. I will finish tonight. Are you so confident I will let you?”

A shuddering breath. “I will count. If I miss, I start again.” You were buckling softly against him, squirming under his grip on both ends of you. 

“A reminder to count politely,” he said softly. “And the current count is ten.”

You cannot stop yourself. “Ten!” you whined. 

“And now it is fifteen,” he said with a frown. “Shall we begin or will you continue to add to your count? Choose carefully, knowing this is not how I hoped we would spend this evening.”

A long pause. The idea of fifteen made you moan, but more importantly, it made you behave. He was giving you what you wanted. You would do the same in return. You ached. Whatever he wanted. 

“Yes, High King. Is there…anything else you would have me do? Beside keep count?”

Gil-galad murmured appreciatively. “I love how hard you try for me, clever one. So good for me once you understand. Call me what you wish — with respect,” he added, a small tug at the nape of your neck. “Request whatever will sate you, but do not demand and do not expect anything from me. Do you understand?”

You answered quickly now as his hand continued to softly ghost over your naked ass, making your skin break out in goosebumps. Your bad behavior got you where you wished most to be. And so now you would be repentant. “Yes, High King.”

His hand lifted off your lower back — you noticed he kept his hand on your neck yesyesyesyes — and he readjusted you so more of your ass was hanging off his leg. You felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach underneath you. He gently rutted up, hips rolling to see if this was where he wanted you.

Gil-galad seemed satisfied. With one more sweep, he ensured your skirts would not fall in his way. Thick fingers pulled and pressed against you, nudging your legs apart. You were already on your toes to keep your balance against him. Now you felt very exposed, cool air fanning against the wet heat of you. 

The first crack was loud and he had not warned you that he would start. The force from it rocked you both forward and down, pressing your ribs against his cock and you heard him bite back a groan. 

The sting on your ass was just right, and he rubbed gently after, soothing away the bite of it. Heat coiled tighter in you and you bucked again. You’d come apart riding his thighs sideways at this rate. 

And it was here that you realized you had been quiet for too long. 

“On—“

“Too late. But do not fret, clever girl. We will start again. Tell me when you are ready to pay attention to me.”

Your eyes closed again and you breathed heavily through your nose. You needed to come down. He had noticed it. He was giving you the chance to decide. 

The heat ebbed, just a moment. One more moment, and then: “Yes, High King. I am ready. Please.”

“Begin counting,” he said again, warning you this time before his hand came down. 

“One, High King.” You thought the panted please that escaped you had been quiet, but Elven hearing was keen.

“Please ‘what’?”

The sound got caught in your throat as he spanked you again, on the other cheek this time, still rubbing away the sting of it. 

“T-two, High King. Please.” You were wanton now, grinding against his lap, bucking and raising your ass in the air begging for contact. Any any any contact he would give you.

“Please, what?”

“Use your ha—“ He spanked you again, aiming for the high part of your thigh. He did not smooth away the pain this time but gripped your flesh, holding you in place.

“Three, High King, please hands your please hands yes.” You weren’t making full sentences.

Hands. Use them. Touch me. What was the count? 

Gil-galad did not strike your ass this time, but gently tapped against you, cupping you in his hand and pushing against you, his fingers brushing against your clit. You let yourself moan at that. Pressure. Thank the Valar. You bit back another moan, and made your limbs still again. 

“Does that count, High King? I wish to keep count correctly for you.” You rocked back against his hand. “I will do it so well for you if you tell me, please.”

He chuckled. His fingers swirled in your slick, coating him and easing the way for him to sink one finger into you, all the way down to his knuckle. The ring he wore was cold and made you flinch. You were so wet that one finger just felt silky instead of filling, but you were happy to be touched at all. 

“Mm, I feel generous tonight, clever one. You do seem truly repentant for your behavior earlier. Are you?” he asked softly, twisting his finger inside you. 

“Yes, High King.” You tried to rock back on his hand. You were rutting like an animal and the only reason you had not fallen off of him was the counterweight of his hand on your neck, pressing you down in the other direction while you greedily thrust into thin air. 

“Good girl. Then you may count it.”

Was it four or five? Nothing mattered as long as he kept twisting his finger. That cold ring. Five?

“Ah and now you are so cockdrunk you lost count. I will help. It is four.”

“Fou—fuhhhh.”

He added another finger without warning. Your eyes rolled back and you inhaled sharply. 

“Five, High King. Could I please have more of your time this week? I was wrong to be so rude. Let me make it ri—“ 

He pulled his fingers out and smacked your ass again, just as hard as the first time, and did the same soothing motion with his hand. You could feel your own slick now, cooling against your skin, transferred from his fingers. His hand slid down your ass again, so soft, until he came to your core again. He slid a hand between your legs and flicked a lazy finger over your clit. You jumped in his hands and moaned again. 

“Focus,” he reminded you softly. “What is the count?”

Your brow furrowed. “S-six, High King. Let me.” Six? Six. You rocked against him again and you could feel how heavy his cock felt underneath you. He was holding back quite a bit to give you this.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Let you what? You are not speaking in full sentences, I’m afraid. I do not follow you.” He smacked your ass again, overlapping with one of the others, and you fought to lift your head from the sting and pleasure of it. His hand kept your neck down and he moved his hand from your ass quickly, leaving you to sting and squirm. 

“Seven. High King, let me taste you?”

He spanked you again, softer this time, and spent longer kneading your flesh after. “Clever one,” he said firmly, hand pressing on your upper back now. “Be more clever. What do you want?”

“Eight, High King,” you said crisply, demanding yourself to focus, refusing now to be distracted. He would start over if you didn’t focus. “Let me suck your cock, please.” 

You felt him twitch under you. He paused for a moment, brown eyes searching your face after he had once again grabbed your chin. He was considering it. You might be able to talk him into it. 

You started babbling. What was happening was not happening fast enough and all the thoughts in your brain had turned to liquid. “Or you can take me however you wish or I will get on all fours or—“

“After ten,” he promised, fingers grazing softly against your face. “Will you take two more for me? I will lower your punishment to ten if you promise to listen. And promise that you will not ignore my summons again.”

You nodded eagerly, yes yes to whatever he wanted. He had broken you now, and quickly, too, compared to your regular play —  and the look in his eyes told him he knew it. He looked victorious. 

You were unprepared, then, for the next sharp crack hitting your ass. He put just the right amount of heft in this one that your body rocked back and forth for a moment after. 

“Nine.” It came out as a moan. 

He chuckled. “And we’ve already dropped my title. Impertinent.”

Before you could answer, his thick fingers found you again, filling you with a delicious stretch. He curled his fingers down and your legs started jumping against his hand. You are not in control of that motion. It is all of it too much and not enough and your body does not know which sensation to chase first. 

“Ten,” you whispered, so close now to your own crest. You were on a knife’s edge and it took a lot of focus to not simply orgasm now and deal with whatever irritation it caused in him later. 

He truly did always give you one more chance than he should. 

“Was that ten?” Gil-galad asked teasingly. “How time flies,” he smiled. “I suppose we will count that as ten.” 

His fingers kept working inside you, pulling you higher. His other hand setted in the small of your lower back, allowing him to guide you back against his fingers while your body still pressed against his cock. “Would you like to come? You have done so well. I will take care of you, if you wish. I will let you come once for me.” 

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” you managed to chant out. So close. You fought between snapping your legs closed and just falling forward to raise your ass in the air and let him take you from behind while you were on the floor. 

Instead he slid his other hand under you, pressing against you from below, as his fingers stroked firmly. Your hips jerked again – the pads of his fingers were just this side of too rough – and suddenly the ache inside you twisted and came apart. You started to bite against his leg to muffle your sounds, but he made a warning growl in his chest, so you let yourself cry out as you came in white hot waves, rocking, pinned between his hands. 

You panted, chest heaving as you turned into jelly in his lap, your arms and legs limp. If not for him pinning you up, you would have slid to the floor.

Your thoughts were still a syrupy jumble, but you felt satisfied. You knew the night was not over, but at least he let you have one ☝️. 

At least he gave you the joy of that, before the salad plates and dinner conversation with men and women you do not care to meet.

After your breathing returned to normal, he lifted you out of his lap and set you on your feet, rising smoothly to stand next to you. Your legs were not quite up to the task of holding your weight, so he held you closely. “Go to the bedroom,” he said softly as he adjusted your dress over your shoulders. “We will continue there. That was the first of many gifts I will give you tonight if you heed me.”

Your brow creased. Thoughts were still coming slowly, but both of you should not have time for that. Especially since you both needed to dress again – his robe was still ruined. And yours was, too, now. “Dinner,” you said, confusion in your tone. You had not exactly looked at a clock while he was fingering you but surely…“Don’t we have to go to a formal dinner, Erienion? I do not want to go. That is what started this.”

Gil-galad laughed richly. “Any dinner with a king is a formal dinner. We have nowhere to be tonight but with each other.” His arms slid around your waist and you could feel how hard he still was against your thigh. 

You blinked up at him and he smiled back. “Really? No formal dinner?”

His sharp brown eyes flicked over your face and he sighed, pulling back from you slightly to point toward the bed. “No formal dinner. And this is why it is always much easier if you simply listen to me and come to me when I call you…You would be made aware of these facts much earlier if you were less petulant.”

So you had all night together. He planned that from the start.

Sneaky. Handsome. Bastard.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and stopped moving. Gil-galad tugged on your wrist one (1) time. “The bed, melethnín,” he rumbled gently.

You say it before you can stop yourself.

“No. Make me.”

// Author's Notes: "elleth" and "ellon" are just elven terms for females and males. The last name he calls her, melethnín, means "my love." I think. If it doesn't, don't come for me, it's what I mean to say and you get the vibe. Clearly accurate Quenya translations were not -- not -- the point of this.

//

Like this work? Check out more 🔥 practice smut 🔥 I wrote for upcoming chapters of my Gil-ga-daddy fix-It fic here: "Simple Release."

Note: This is practice smut, written in preparation for the four smut scenes planned in my Gil-galad x OC elf fic, Star and Stone. If you like this, check it out: Chapter 1, Between the Mountains and the Sea

[navybrat817]

“Behave, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you now.”  with Nick Fowler please 🥰

Love this! Thank you for submitting a prompt. Went a little dark with this. ❤️

Snow Globe

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader

Summary: Nick thinks snow globes are beautiful, just like you.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, NONCON/DUBCON, cockwarming, possessive behavior, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Set in the same AU as See Through You and Home Video. And a small submission to @thebasementspouses 's Christmas Challenge with Nick and Snow Globe. ❤️ Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

You peeked up at Nick where he sat on the couch and studied his handsome face. He was in a good mood today. Maybe because he got to sleep in a bit and cuddle with you. He didn't even bother getting fully dressed once he got up. Just put on a pair of boxer briefs and insisted on the two of you staying in.

As if you had a say in the matter.

He chuckled when you let out a hum of confusion. “The snow globe, sweetheart,” he smiled, picking it up from the end table beside him. He gave it a small shake to draw your attention to it more. “See? Beautiful.”

You stared into the snow globe, not at all enraptured like when you saw them in stores or homes. A souvenir like that should have enchanted you with the lightly sparkling snowflakes and glitter. The ethereal vision only served to remind you that looks could be deceiving.

Evil can be beautiful.

Nick Fowler was living proof.

“I thought maybe we could start our own collection,” he continued as he set it down and brushed his fingers along the side of your throat with a soft smile. “Doesn't that sound nice?”

You blinked once. Again, you had no say. You could argue with him, sure. But who knew where that would lead? Nowhere good.

And you didn't want to go down the hard path tonight.

“Fuck, your mouth really does look beautiful stretched around my cock,” he breathed, his fingers drifting along your neck again as he rolled his hips up. “Breaks my heart when you try to fight it, but you aren't fighting now, are you?”

You exhaled through your nose, the urge to gag rising. It was only a few minutes ago when you felt the weight of him slide across your tongue, but it felt more like hours with the slight ache in your jaw. The tip of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat and you willed yourself to stay still and focus on breathing.

At least he was kind enough to give you a pillow for your knees.

“Of course, you aren't. Because as much as you fight it, you love it when I fill you up,” he smirked as you shivered, a darkness settling over your heart. He made you feel good physically every time he took you, but you couldn't let pleasure wear you down. Could you? “And I really do love filling your holes.”

You almost wished he'd stop talking. If he did, you could allow yourself to drift away. You wouldn't disappear into a daze completely, but you could retreat into yourself for a short time and deny that you belonged to him. Which was precisely why he kept speaking.

Nick wouldn't allow you to leave him, even if it was just in your mind.

And with his cock in your mouth, he wouldn't allow you to talk back.

“It’s okay to like being mine, sweetheart,” he whispered.

But why should you like it?

He let out a sharp hiss when your teeth grazed him harder than he liked and gripped the back of your head in a warning. “Behave,” he said in a low voice. “I wouldn't want to have to punish you now.”

He kept you on his cock when you tried to let up, not allowing you any reprieve. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you met the burning azure of his gaze, his eyes so dark they were almost black in the dim light. It was like looking into your own twisted snow globe.

You were trapped.

Forever.

I love him. I can't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi