#i still suck at satin stitch. i hate it

[comfortfrogblog]

spidergwen embroidery :))

i took that weird slant picture so you can sort of see the texture of this new stitch i was trying for the black, it’s called the web stitch so you can probably guess why i used it :3

[sweetcathedral]

Note: First Toji story! Your "mom" that I had in mind for this one is basically a female Nanami, and your adoptive mom. Tried my best not to get burnt out from this one, so it might sound a bit rushed and repetitive, but I’ll be taking a two week break after I post Gojo’s sometime this week (hopefully tomorrow or the day after). Enjoy !

⚠️: 18+, raw, bulge, plot (?), voyeurism/exhibitionism (phone), eating out, fingering

It was obvious why Toji was around your mother lately, and why your mother still bothered keeping him around.

“Cut the sweet talking and just say you’re broke again,” you overheard your mother say. There wasn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, she didn’t need any sweet talking for her to lend Toji money again ‘cause she was also someone without any need for attachments. In fact, your mother hated attachments, so her pretend relationship with Toji was perfect. Not only did he fuck her any chance he got, but your mother even asked if he could take you into his place until you found a suitable apartment close to your university (of course he’d be getting paid double the amount for the hassle).

“I don’t have an extra room, so take mine for now. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You sure? I don’t mind taking the couch instead,” now that you’re finally facing him, you take in the details of his gruff features, hardened by whatever work he does for a living.

“Something wrong?” he cocks his head to the side and rubs his hand at the back of his neck.

“No. Sorry, it’s just—it’s my first time properly seeing you,” you can feel the heat rise up in your body.

“Oh, I guess it is,” he walks up to you and looks down, realizing how big he is and that you’re no longer looking at him from afar. “You’ve changed from the last time I saw you though,” measuring you against him, using his hand to see where your height compares. He smelt of smoke and something metallic, a foreign scent your memory had nothing to contrast to. A dark red smear on his forearm catches your attention. You thoughtlessly brush your fingers on his arm, triggering him to grab your wrist. His eyes widened in a wilderness you’ve never seen before with a hint of panic.

“Um . . .” you didn’t know how to react.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and collects his composure back, “I’m gonna go take a shower first. Make yourself comfortable.”

The grip around your wrist lightens, leaving a red imprint that’s a bit sore to the touch.

Fuck. Toji had been too caught up with the bounty hunts he took that he forgot you were temporarily moving in with him today. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was his calendar app that reminded him, in the middle of a fight with a curse user, that he quickly finished the job and rushed back home to see you already standing at his door. Patiently waiting for him to answer the first few knocks and hesitating to knock again, which he found cute. He didn’t even have time to clean his wounds up when he snuck in through his back window.

Once Toji strode into the bathroom and locked himself in, he took off his shirt, thankful for the black shade concealing the blood slowly oozing out of his wound on the side of his torso. “Tch, for fuck sakes,” he mumbled before cleaning off the excess blood and throwing his shirt in the garbage. He thought his forearm was wounded too, the pain concealed from the rush of adrenaline he still had from running back home, but it was just the blood from his torso.

Toji wasn’t sure how to react when he’d see you again, especially as a proper person, since he has never paid any attention to you back then, until now.

“Take in my daughter until she finds her own place. She’s currently shopping for ones near her university since the other one had a person who died in the building,” your mother told him over the phone, neither sounding like a question or a demand.

“Huh? You have a kid?”

“Are you blind now too?”

“Don’t give much attention to kids.”

“Well she’s an adult now, so how ‘bout it?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Money, of course.”

“Heh, deal,” he answered, not giving much thought to the details as long as he’s getting paid for it.

“Now you’re making it sound like I’m selling my daughter off to the Devil.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“She’ll be coming over in two weeks time,” your mother sighed in relief before hanging up.

Toji pulls himself back to the present hearing the faint scuffling of your feet across the floor, probably carrying your boxes and luggage into the living room. I should help her out. He carefully lifts the towel off his wound to check if the bleeding started to slow down. He lost track of how long he’d been in the bathroom, so he went against the thought of stitching it up and just slapped on some gauze for now. It’d be suspicious if he holed himself in the bathroom for too long. As Toji inhaled his breath to pull himself together, he raised his head, losing his sense of his equilibrium.

“Shit,” he softly chuckles, seeing his blurry reflection in the mirror falling out of the frame and hitting the floor. His body goes limp as his mind slowly succumbs to the darkness, only the sound of your frantic voice through the door being the last to leave his senses.

When you finally busted the door open, Toji was shirtless and laying on the floor drifting in and out of consciousness. You flipped him over to see that he was trying to patch up his wound. “We need to get you to a hospital,” you started dialing 911, but his heavy arm stops you from doing so.

“. . . don’t . . .” he desperately said through ragged breaths before going limp again.

“Fine, but I need to at least get you to your room. I’m not strong enough to carry you,” you try to heave him up to his feet, lugging his arm over your shoulder, opposite from the side where his wound is.

Once you managed to get him in his room, you guided him to his bed before rushing through your boxes to find your medical stitch kit. Although it was hard trying to disinfect his wound before stitching him up and placing a clean gauze over it, you managed to help him dodge the hospital bills he wanted to avoid. Cheapskate, just use the money you get from my mom.

You let out a sigh, tired from the nervousness of moving into a new place shared by a man with a mysterious background, and the panic that ensued when Toji looked like he was knocking on Death’s door. Peering up at him from the side of his bed, you take in his other scars along his body; there’s a jagged one on his chest, a couple clean slits along his shoulder, and some small rigid circular ones scattered over his stomach. You lightly run your fingers over the soft pink flesh like tracing a roadmap of his past life, his scars standing out like checkpoints.

“Home. My father threw me into a . . . fighting pit,” the rough vibration of his voice startles you, breaking you from your trance.

“Sorry, I—!” you pull away, retracting your hand back. But instead Toji grabs it back, unfurling your fingers to place them back on his scar.

“Also home. A fight with my cousins . . .” he continues guiding your fingers throughout his body, dragging you from scar to scar and telling you the story of his past, like there was nothing to hide. “And finally,” he gently places your palm on his fresh wound, “. . . another bounty hunt . . .” There was a moment of hesitation in his voice, his eyes laid on your hand as he thumbs over your knuckles, twiddling with your fingers before firmly yanking you over him onto the bed.

His finger traces up the curve of your spine, the small of your back, feeling the bulge form under his joggers—nudging at the plump bulb of your cunt through the thin fabric of your satin shorts. Keeping yourself calm and collected, you push yourself up from his shoulders, his muscles tensing up from your touch.

“Toji, I don’t have money to pay you. The medical courses in university are expensive already.”

“Who said I was asking for money?” he traces down your neck with his eyes before bringing you towards him, rubbing a lock of your hair between his thumb and index finger as he kisses your neck.

“You’re hurt and acting delirious from the pain. I’ll look through my boxes to see if I still have painkillers,” you huffed, trying to fight through his strength and the aching need to continue to see through to the end. It felt wrong, but his desperate hands kept you from making the right decisions.

“Don’t leave, stay,” he whispered between kisses, now trailing down to your breasts, sucking at your nipples. The straps of your tank top and bralette slip from your shoulders as his fingers softly drag down your back, your garments now clinging to your waist. Your soft moans bounce off the walls of the room. Your fingers laced through his hair, continuing to tease your nipples and thoughtlessly riding your hips on his bulge, leaving a wet stain through your shorts and his joggers. A wave of shame clashes over your need to have more of him, but the movements of his hands, arm, tongue, body keeps you from turning back.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you moaned through huffs of breaths.

“Then, what are you waiting for? Do it. I’m right there,” he valiantly bucks his hips up, pressing his erection into your pliant cunt, holding your thighs down on either side of him.

Your fingers reach for his cock from under you, molding around the shape of him as you push his joggers further down his hips. There was already precum dripping down his cock, painfully pulsating at your soft touch. You hold the tip at your entrance, glossy and slippery from your eager juices, and slowly ease yourself onto his cock. Toji groans at your plump walls hugging him and pulling him deeper inside of you. Your body blooms into a lustful behaviour that even he was surprised in awe at the honesty, forming a bemused grin across his face.

When your hips started to tremble beyond control, Toji continued, propping himself up with his arms and careful not to bust the stitches you gave him. At this point his pain had melted into pleasure, gratefully thrusting into your cervix and feeling the satisfaction of the shape of his tip protruding from your lower abdomen. You wrap your arms around him, spreading your legs wider so as to not touch his wound.

“Ngh, I think I’m about to pass out,” you bit back a moan, struggling to keep from cramping.

“Heh, that’s cute,” he rammed himself harder into you, the sound of slapping intertwining with your moans & grunts. Your body twitches in intervals, keeping up with his rhythm, nearing your climax. Toji grasps onto you, clamping you down on him as his warm cum fills up your womb, unable to keep the excess from flowing out.

“Shit, sorry,” he reaches down to touch your vulva, the tips of his fingers feeling at his thick substance leaking out from you..

“Mm-mm, it’s fine. Infertile,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

“Did you cum yet?”

A giggle fell from your lips, “not yet—!” he flips you over before you could finish whatever you were about to say, switching places so that you’re laying on your back now. He wasn’t gonna take that for an answer cause he always finishes what he started.

“Allow me,” his head settled in between your legs, hands firmly placed at the back of your thighs. You sharply inhaled at the soft velvety feel of his tongue to your sensitive clit, and the strong feeling of his fingers pushing through your swollen walls. Your head falls back into a lustful daze, allowing him to do whatever he wants to do to you. Only the sound of your rapid breathing and cute moans fill the air of the room, as Toji satisfies himself with your lewd expressions and lolled out tongue.

“Did you make it safely to Toji’s place?” your mom asks through the phone.

“Yeah . . . everything, went well,” you bit your tongue, flailing your hands behind you to try and get Toji to slow down.

“Are you okay? You sound too out of breath in the morning.”

“Yeah—! I just, just came back for a—jog,” he thrusts harder into you, having fun watching you try to keep your composure. Ready to hear a moan slip out from your wet lips. “Anyways, I need to, to go, bye mom!” you hung up before she could say her goodbyes.

“Someone held up pretty well,” he chuckles at the nape of your neck before leaving his marks along it.

“Fuck you,” you pant, hating yourself for obliging in this situation, but loving the hard feeling of his cock splitting you apart. He hooks one of your legs up to the kitchen counter, your other fighting to stay on its tippy toes as you reach your morning climax—squirting on the kitchen floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls in your ear, flipping you over and stirring his cock back inside of you. “Get ready to go rounds with me.”

[sweetsbfreex]

poor excuse of a husband

Summary: The one where Andy dominates, Ransom has no back-bone, and you get to enjoy it all. 

Warnings: cum eating, cuckold, and degradation 

Pairing: Andy Barber (Defending Jacob) x Reader x Ransom Drysdale (Knives out).

-

You skipped your way down the steps, the sides of your satin robe flying open at your speed, when you heard the doorbell ring throughout the house.

When you finally stood in front of the front door, you tried to calm yourself down, breathing through your mouth. Bringing your hands up to smooth anything down (even though it was useless). Trying to make yourself presentable.

You opened the door slowly, coming face to face with Andy Barber. He stood there confidently. Still in his suit and tie. A briefcase in his clutch. 'Straight from work' you thought to yourself.

"Hi Andy," you smiled up at him.

"Hi baby," he smiled back at you, brushing past you, letting himself into your home. He stood opposite from you, looking up and down at your current attire, one side of his lip rising.

"Where's your poor excuse of a husband?" he asked gruffly.

You chuckled at the joke "He's, uh, upstairs waiting."

At that he laid his hand to the bottom of your back guiding you gently upstairs and to your bedroom.

Hearing the door creaking open. Ransom straightened up, watching the both of you enter the room. He could only have a straight look on his face already feeling the dominant stature of Andy radiate into the room.

"Ransom." Andy greeted smugly. "How about you sit over there" he tilted his head to the love seat of the corner of your bedroom "I'll let you know when you’re needed." You looked up at Andy, smiling at the tone of his voice.

Ransom could only nod, taking himself over the small loveseat. He sat up straight, placing one hand on each thigh flatly.

Andy let you go, setting his briefcase by Ransom’s foot. He then, not making any eye contact, Shrugged off his suit-jacket, placing it nonchalantly on his lap. Once he was done with that quickly took off his cufflinks, throwing those on top of his jacket, and finally his collared shirt and his wife beater. His toned, perfect on display for all the eyes in the room to glance at.

He strolled to the side of the bed–– Giving Ransom the perfect view–– his legs stood against the mattress, his hands holding onto the edge. 

“Kneel in front of me...And I’m not repeating myself” He only looked in front of him, tilting his head side to side, trying to release the tension in his neck. 

The last time he was here, you weren’t really listening, so into the way Andy had tranced you. He had to repeat himself several times, and he made sure he would never repeat himself ever again. Andy hated repeating himself, he told you the first night you’d tried this through. And now you knew better, almost molded into his perfect mess.

You scurried in front of him, bringing yourself speedily to the ground in front of him. Holding his thighs for support which he had shrugged off quickly, sucking his teeth. 

When your knees had finally hit the ground. Andy brought your hair together with his palm, all of it bundled up in his fist. As he angled your heads back roughly causing a low whine to emit from you. 

“Bet you wish you could control your whore like this huh?” he asked Ransom. “Now the only question is how much of a man are you really? Right?”

Hearing this only got you much hotter, squeezing your thighs together at the humiliation Ransom was most likely feeling right now and the way Andy said the words with so much conviction.

Ransom could do nothing except for letting the words sink in and keep eye contact with Andy as he berated him. Because just like y/n. He knew better. 

“Yes” he muttered venomously, having no choice but to accept it.

“I’d watch the tone” Andy corrected. “Come over here and take off my pants, once your done you can go ahead and stand behind her” he ordered.

Ransom could only walk over, stuttering, trying not to make any mistakes. When he had gotten there, he hastily reached out for the button on Andy’s lower quadrant. 

“What...Have you forgotten the rules already? Kneel” Andy seethed, not giving Ransom any time for disappointment as his palm contact with his perfectly styled hair. Bringing him to the ground, beside you, roughly. 

“I’m sorry” he finally unbuttoned his pants, taking his fingers to then gently bring down the zipper. Andy’s pants fell down easily, now all Ransom had to do was drag his briefs––that pooling to his feet too. Both you and Ransom coming face to face with his erection.  

“Go ahead and put those with the rest and when you’re done, take hold of her hair” he declared, stepping out of his clothes, and letting go of your hair. 

Ransom did this, with no argument; he also learned not to do that the hard way. And now he stood behind his wife, his socked feet beside each cheek of her ass. Bringing one hand to fist her hair, holding on tightly. 

“Take off the robe, angel” Andy smiled down at you.

“Okay” you responded eagerly, smiling too. Untying the bow, you shrugged off the black satin robe, letting it lay on top of Ransom’s feet. 

“Look at that” Andy started, eyeing the one piece you had bought online specifically for this moment right here. Shuddering as he brought a finger to trail along the cleavage of your breast. “Who’d buy this for, baby?” He knew the answer, but why not boost his ego a little bit. 

“I bought it for you Andy” you expressed.

“Really? Not for the douche standing behind you?” he asked, making quick eye contact with Ransom–– who so badly wanted to roll his eyes.

“No...Not for the douche behind me”

Ransom couldn’t lie, that one stung. When he had walked in on y/n searching for lingerie on the Fenty website. And he asked what it was for, she had told him it was for his and hers one on one time. He should’ve known, of course. It would’ve been for Andy Barber. 

“That’s what I thought” he smiled, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Open up”

He leant himself against the mattress, jutting his out for you, watching you open your mouth eagerly. He held both your cheeks, bringing your mouth to envelope his dick. Trying to find a pace.

“Look at her struggle to take me in, bet your husband’s cock doesn’t hit the back of your throat...Hm baby” moaning in between. 

Ransom was big, but he would never compare to Andy. And you were pretty sure he knew that too.

You shook your head, wrapping your lips around him tighter, trying as hard to keep your tongue moving.

“Guess the only dick you have is in your personality, huh cuck?” Andy chuckled at the name, knowing how much it ruffled the stitches of Ransom’s fancy sweaters.

“Yes Andy” he answered, watching the pleasure show in the expressions Andy let wash over his face. He watched as Andy clenched his together, licking his lips from time to time. He was embarrassed and envious. Embarrassed, watching his wife fuck another man–both parties enjoying it. Envious because it should be him feeling like that, but instead he was the bastard assisting the two of them. And the tent in his pants wasn’t helping.

“Move her head, make sure she takes all of me” Andy gritted, stilling his hips. 

Ransom tightened the hold of your air, ignoring the way you groaned. He extends and reduces his arm, letting your head bob back and forth like a doll. Looking down– watching the mess your mouth made on Andy’s dick.

“Just like that” Andy groaned. “Good thing your useful for something”

And it went like that for a few seconds, until Andy brought his hand to the back of your hand holding you still. All you could feel was the two different hands on your head holding you still, the stuttering of Andy’s hip under your palm, the way his cock had throbbed in your mouth, and the way his cum had splashed around your throat. 

When Andy rode his orgasm out, finally calming down. His attention focused on the small hands tapping against his thighs. He pulled out your mouth, slowly, some of his speed getting on the side of your mouth.

“Good girl, know you swallowed it all right? Cause you love to make me happy?” he asked swatting away Ransom’s hold off of you, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Yes Andy”

“Go lie down on the bed” he told you, bringing a thumb to wipe both sides of your mouth. You went on your bed, laying on your back, waiting eagerly for Andy.

Laying there while you watch Andy walk in front of ransom, forcing his thumb between Ransom’s pursed lips, slapping the side of his face lightly. The picture turns you on more.

Ransom suckled on Andy’s thumb, licking it clean. But moaned softly at the surprising feel of Andy’s free hand groping him softly through his jeans. He moaned out, bending over slightly, thankful for the minimal amount of release. 

“Get her ready for me” He stated, squeezing Ransom one last time before picking up and opening the brief. 

Inside there lay a bunch of toys, ropes, and anything else he needed for days like this. Looking over everything he decided on the vibrator. 

All while that happened. Ransom sat beside you, keeping one hand to restrain a leg, while the other used a thumb to rub your clit softly. Dragging back and forth ever so lightly. It wasn’t enough for you as you whined out for Andy. Wanting him now, knowing he could fix you so quickly. 

And when he finally turned around, you only moaned louder, but only because you could see him inspecting the hot pink vibrator in his hand. 

“Andy I’m ready! Please!” you fussed, reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Remove your hand from her cunt and hold her hands above her hand” he told Ransom, standing himself between your open legs. 

“Andy” you whined again, feeling Ransom take your wrists into his clutch, scooting himself farther back on the bed, and laying your arms flatly above your head. 

“Here” Andy spoke, laying the vibrator in Ransom’s hand “You use it when I tell you” he finished, not giving a second glance to the face Ransom pulled. 

Andy maneuvered up to lay a bit higher on the bed roughly, setting his knees on either side of your figure. His stance perpendicular from the mattress.

You gawked up watching Andy stroke himself between your legs.

“You want it don’t you?” you nodded quickly, answering him quickly. He pushed into you just a bit, observing your reaction. 

“Yeah...Only I could fuck you this good right”

You nodded again, just the tip giving you enough pleasure that you couldn’t speak properly. 

“Not even his fucking fingers could get you like this could they?”

“No Andy” you whimpered, half from the comment and half from the push into you.

“Tell him no one can fuck you like Andy can, tell him  how much of a poor excuse of a husband he is with the way he’s sitting there like a loser watching his wife get better dick” he gritted, demanding you– never asking you–– thrusting all the way into you sharply. 

You turn your head upwards towards Ransom’s looming physique, his clutch on your wrists tighter.

“Only A– ooh” You felt a firm slap on your thigh, the heat and sting mixing together piquantly, but you knew it Andy’s way of telling you to get back on track. 

“Only Andy could fuck me this good! He’s better in every way! A better man than– ohh” you gushed, interrupted by the calloused, hand on your neck. Andy had stopped you, squeezing the sides of your neck, your hands flying to his forearms. Head thrown back, now looking at the wall behind, and mouth wide open. 

Ransom sat there ashamed and embarrassed, wanting so badly to ram into you mercilessly just to let you know who was really in charge, but he knew it would only be Andy. Andy ruined you and he knew from the first night after Andy left, you had quickly told Ransom you had a quick phone call to make–– but even he knew who was at the end of the call. 

And you knew you were ruined by Andy, When you had accidentally moaned out Andy’s name instead of Ransom. You were only left confused when instead of pulling away, confused. Ransom had rutted into you one last time cumming extra hard that night. But you two never talked about that night, brushing it past you both. 

“Good baby. Use the vibrator!” Andy bellowed towards Ransom, roughly grabbing Ransom’s hand, bringing it to your clit. 

Ransom quickly switched it on with his thumb, circling the head of it around you slowly, watching the way you keened up. Your body arching up and down at feeling.

“Look how well she’s taking me” Andy smiled, slamming into you. This caught Ransom’s attention. Shifting his eyes so he was examining the way you let Andy slip in and out of you. His mouth falling open at what he was watching, breathing roughly, wanting so badly to also get some type of release. 

The smile widened as you shouted, trying as hard as you could to release your wrists from the holds of Ransom. Wanting so badly to push the vibrator off of you the vibrations getting to be too much. 

“Andy” you moaned out, pleading for him.

“Turn it off and go sit over there” he told Ransom, stopping for a minute, watching the way Ransom had shuffled back, his back against the headboard. “Clean it up” he commanded. You both observing the way his eyes had widened–– this was a first. 

Moaning at the way Ransom lifted it shyly, his tongue laying flat against it. Cleaning it swiftly, as he twisted it around like an ice cream on a cone.

“Look at that baby, look how pathetic he looks drinking up all of you” And he did, looking like a pouty kid who had gotten the wrong flavor by accident but had no choice to finish since they had begged for it in the first place. 

Ransom had wanted to look away from Andy terribly, the smug look on his face riling him up a bit more than usual. 

“Tell her how it tastes, cuck” he said it venomously

“It tastes good...tastes sweet” he tells you quietly.

“She didn’t hear you! I’ve let you have pass after pass tonight, I’m not in the mood”

He repeats himself again, loudly and clearly, making eye contact with the both of you. 

“Let’s finish you off baby” Andy breathes out into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there. Before he brings one hand to each of your knees, ushering them to settle over his shoulders. Lifting the bottom half of you for his better accessibility, as he fucks into you barbarously. 

You took it all missing nothing but this, as you bring your hands to his arms, fingernails digging deep. 

“Andy! Andy! Andy!” you wailed.

The sound of your incessantly blubbering got Andy to growl into your neck. Taking one hand off your thigh to cock your jaw towards Ransom’s shuddering figure making sure Ransom heard all of this perfectly. And he did perfectly minus all the slapping of the skin.

“Who’s pussy is this?” Andy asked.

“Andy’s!” you whined you, extending your hand to clutch onto the sheets below you. Watching the way Ransom moved his hand around, trying hard to keep it away from the throbbing area. 

“That’s right!” he growled back “Who can only make you feel like this?”

“Andy!” Now you brought your free hand towards the one grasping your jaw. 

“Who’s the most pathetic person in here?”

“Ransom!” you were almost there and you were pretty sure Andy knew it too. 

“And who married the most pathetic excuse of a husband, man there is”

“Me!” you whimpered out, your body staggering from the force of it all. Your body limp and twitching, mind dazed, as Andy had got himself there. Coming into you and grunting in your neck roughly. His hand softening his hold on your jaw. 

Andy slammed at you one more time before he laid beside you, bringing his arm over his eyes. As you laid there your feet floating off the end of the bed, your chest stuttering your orgasm still having it’s small effects on you. 

“Clean us up. Her first”

Ransom quickly kneeled himself between your legs, dragging you closer to the edge. He did as Andy ordered. Bringing his face closer to your center, entering two fingers in you. Trying as much as he could to scoop out whatever of Andy’s out.

His nose touches your clit, a low groan emitting from you, as the feel of his fingers go in and out of you slowly only bringing you closer to another. As ransom licked around you first, bringing his other hand to pull one side of your outer labia to the side and once he was done went to the other side. 

It was a routine, knowing it’d take awhile for Andy’s viscous speed to exit. 

Then he had finally lapped at your cunt, rolling in the way you had moaned out.

Andy laid still, moving his arm away from his eyes, stealthily watching Ransom clean his wife eagerly. His head and tongue moving up and down. Hearing how Ransom had slurped all of Andy’s cum out of y/n. 

“Tastes good huh? Slurping it like a bitch in heat”

“Yes Andy” he answered before going back in for the last few licks, licking his fingers clean before moving between Andy’s toned thighs. 

‘Yes Andy what?”

“I’m like a bitch in heat”

Ransom quickly used one hand to hold onto Andy’s thigh for support while the other brought Andy’s cock up that was, before, laying against his chest. 

Ransom started at the tip, earning a groan from Andy, giving it kitten licks. Tasting–– once again–– his speed and the perfect mix of you on Andy. Finally getting the tip clean he quickly went as far down onto Andy as he could swallowing up around him. The rest he had licked up or used his finger. 

Once that was done Andy had gotten up, taking the vibrator as he put in his brief, pulling his clothes on like it was nothing. And was just buttoning his pants ,but stopped when he felt the air behind him shifting, turning around he was face to face with Ransom, looking down a wad of cash was in his hand.

“Here’s for the month, see you next time” he said, with no specific emotion. 

-

I literally have no words,,, uhh hope you enjoyed lmao. I finished this in one day and this became the longest thing i’ve written i––

[spitpr1ncess]

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 3 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

                                                   (not my image)

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

Gentle rays of sun push through the curtains that protect you from the outside world, they fall like precious feathers across your sleepy face, you rouse from your restful slumber and bring yourself to open the curtains fully, letting mother nature embrace you as you appreciate another day alive. You have an alarm clock but you find the natural light is much more kind to you. You take a deep inhale and breathe life into your lungs, you close your eyes and scrunch them as tight as they will go as you exhale, letting any tension and anxieties about the day evaporate.

You set about making your bed, the beautiful ivory sheets are pulled taught and your duck down pillows plumped, you fold your nightdress and set it down on the chair next to your window. A few years ago, Boss had bought you a record player for your 18th birthday, and it was crisp mornings like this that called for some soft, classical music. You place a record down gently and lift the stylus, as it makes contact your room is filled with ethereal sounds, you hum and dance around slowly, opening your heavy wooden wardrobe to pick something out that will adequately satiate Boss’s hunger.

You hold up a few lingerie sets in front of your nimble body and stare into the mirror, you’ve lost a significant amount of weight the last few months, you notice your chest has all but ceased to exist at this point, Boss will not be happy about that. You decide on a soft cream set, a corset that pinches your waist in and pushes your chest up to its maximum capacity, with beautiful satin panties that you’ve altered yourself. With your weight loss, a lot of the clothes you wear leave you swimming in them, you stitched darts into the front, pulling them in and creating a feminine silhouette that accentuates your barely-there curves.  You pull a pastel pink silk gown over your arms and set about applying a little make up. Pinching your cheeks and lips to draw the blood to them, you give yourself a natural blush. You pull a dark brown pencil through your brows, add white to the waterline of your eye and brush a few strokes of mascara over your lashes, finishing with a little clear gloss on your lips. Last night you’d painted your finger and toenails a soft cream, you add some pearl earrings and the necklace that Boss had given you when he first took you on.

You give yourself the once over in the mirror, making sure to not look too close, you figure that you don’t look as exhausted as you usually do, and for all intents and purposes, are ready. You wait. Its ten minutes to ten, when Boss is due, you sit patiently on the edge of your bed, your heart hammering in your chest, you’d stopped the music a few minutes prior, you know Boss likes silence, and you want to appease him. You roll your pearl earring between your index finger and your thumb anxiously, you hear the gate buzz and Jools answer. It’s a few moments before you hear his heavy footing stalks toward your door, you glare at the golden door knob, it turns, painstakingly slow. He knows you’re apprehensive and he likes to remind you of that. The door finally pushes open, assaulting the empty space between it.

You stare at him, he looks you over. He looks as grimy as ever, he is a short and stout man, with snow white hair and a beard to match, the golden tooth cap that covers one of his front teeth blinds you as he smiles from ear to ear, if you weren’t under so much pressure to please him, you might’ve thrown up at the sight of him.

“There’s my girl, as innocent as ever,” he looks straight through you before turning, closing and ensuring to lock the door. “don’t keep me waiting, stand up.” The instructions are clear as day, you stand on your weak legs, focusing everything you have on not letting Boss see how anxious you are. He steps toward you and reaches out; he draws a line from your bottom lip to your right nipple with his thumb. Your corset protects you from feeling his perverted touch, suddenly you are over the moon with your choice of undergarment. He picks at the hem of your pretty pink gown, he lifts it and you raise your arms instinctively, it’s soon removed and discarded on the floor behind him like a rag.

“I thought you might like this one, Sir.” Your breathing hitches as you await his verdict.

“You are right, little girl.” You feign a smile and give him your best doe-eyed look. He sighs, tired, turned on or frustrated you cannot tell, you wait anxiously before taking your next breath.

“I’m going to inspect you now, I have to make sure you are worth keeping, little Olive.” He moves to stand behind you and begins to unlace your corset. He easily removes it and places it carelessly on the bed. He steps so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, he looks down and observes you, with his hands reaching out he cups a breast in each hand. He places his thumbs and index fingers over your nipples and rolls them roughly, his cold, hard fingers fighting to get a physical reaction, you are not attracted to Boss in the slightest so it is hard to pretend you want him to continue, but if you close your eyes and think hard enough, you can just about picture somebody else, it’s what makes this whole ordeal that little bit more manageable.

“You’ve lost weight.” He observes, you panic.

“I have been working such long days, Sir, it was not on purpose, I promise.” You are apprehensive for what he will say next, to your surprise, he isn’t angered, in fact, he apologises.

“I have obviously not been supplying enough food, I will do better, and you shall have less work.” he continues his silent abuse on your tiny body, pulling your soft, brown hair over your left shoulder and continuing to roll your right nipple. He leans in and inhales your scent, you feel him let out a low growl, you can’t help the physical shudder that courses through you, you worry that you will start convulsing at any second, but Boss must have taken your shuddering as a sign to continue, something in him changes as he kicks your legs apart with his foot. Standing there in just those soft, silk panties, you are vulnerable, alone, completely at his mercy. You suck back a sob and picture all the times you have been at a mans mercy, you pray to a God that you do not even believe in that this will end soon, you are exhausted, completely shattered, absolutely broken. You just want peace.

He reaches his left hand into the front of your panties and feels your softness, “You are a good girl, keeping all tidy for me. I bet you even oiled yourself up this morning in anticipation. You did, didn’t you?” You can sense the dirty excitement in his voice, you nod, meekly in response, you have learnt very quickly that you need to sell whatever sick fantasy Boss is having to keep living comfortably, how you must remain his little bitch, to get your own way, eventually. You close your eyes and let go of any shred of dignity you were still grasping onto, you begin to grind into his hand, silently begging for him to give you something, to make him feel like you need him, he lets out low, perverted, guttural moan.

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” It’s working.

“Please Sir. Touch me, please.” A silent tear breaks loose and wets your cheek, his erection tents and you feel it pressing against the arch of your back, you dare to reach a hand behind to palm him, he moans, without warning, you feel a finger roughly enter you, Boss layers his fingers with expensive and unneeded gold signet rings and although you hate to admit it, the cool of the jewellery feels fucking good. His alien finger curls upwards as your breathing hitches, feeling the golden rings rub against your hole.

“You are as tight as the day I took you as a young girl.”, you cringe at him bringing up your broken childhood as another silent tear falls, you try to ignore his perverted comment as you continue to palm his erection from behind you, he abruptly pulls his finger out as you are violently bent over your bed, he tears your pretty panties down to your knees.

“Put your hands above your head, and don’t move them, I’m going to inspect your holes now.” You feel him as he gapes you wide open, running a finger from your sensitive clit, to your pussy, he circles it, slipping a finger in to the first knuckle, you sense the second about to plunge into you when there is a strong knock at the door.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO INTERRUPT ME.” You are frightened by how angered the man looming above you sounds. Afamiliar cold voice answers back. “Sir, it really cannot wait. Its E.S.” silence befalls your little room as the tension rises, you’re face down with your hands above your head, a finger in your cunt and your ass spread wide. You’re thankful there is a door separating you from the voice outside.

“Do not move, little girl.” You are frightened by the anger behind his words, you remain where you are, Boss stands up straight and strides to the door opening it wide.

“I will go, you are to take over here, make sure she is worth keeping, I’ll expect extensive feedback on my desk by eight tomorrow.” And with that, you hear his footsteps fade as he paces toward to exit.

-

You suddenly realise that someone is standing at your door and heat flushes to your ears, you jump up snatching what little dignity you could salvage as you speedily pull your panties back up, you protect your chest with your arms. Glaring at you, you meet the same pair of eyes you did yesterday afternoon, you are mortified, you try to say anything but nothing comes out and you stand there with your mouth wide open.

“You’ll catch flies like that, whore.” Levi retorts, this is the last thing you wanted to happen right now, or ever really. You barely have time to think before you instinctively bite back; “You’ll catch a slap if you keep staring at me like that,” you immediately regret saying anything, “what I mea…” you are interrupted as he strides toward you at a sickening pace, roughly grabbing your delicate throat, you whimper in response and a small smirk forms at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” Levi practically spits, this piques your interest.

“Are you going to inspect me, Mr Ackerman?” You should’ve closed your stupid mouth, but something inside of you wants to antagonise him, needs to antagonise him.

“If I had a choice, I’d not step within fifty metres of you.” He doesn’t hesitate for a second and you almost feel bad, but your mouth works faster than your brain.

“But you don’t have a choice, so are you going to?” He releases his tight grip of your neck and spins you so effortlessly you may as well have weighed the same as a stuffed toy, the next thing you know, you are face down in your mattress. With his palm forcing you down, he spits in your face, “you deserve nothing more than a beating followed by a rough fucking, I’ll teach you a few things about respect.” He’s angry, and you’re finally excited, you asked for something new, something different, and here it was, pinning you down and spitting in your face. Your heart swells.

You bait him, your next mistake.

“You think you’ll be able to teach me about respect? I apologise Mr Ackerman, but you are the man who just spat in my face. At least aim for my mouth next tim…” you are cut off as grabs a pillow and forces it over your face.

“I’m sick of the noise coming from you and I can’t stand the sight of you.” Levi stands up straight, letting the pillow go so it sits over your face as he removes his jacket, you hear him fold it and place it tidily on your chair, this humours you and you let out a muffled giggle. Levi pauses to look at you before he chooses to ignore you, giggling and with a pillow over your face, ass up in the air, he almost grabs it before continuing with his before task. He pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and kneels, leaning over you and removes the pillow.

“Open.” His command is simple and you immediately follow, like a little puppy, his jaw tenses as he stuffs the handkerchief in your mouth.

“I do not like you, or even respect you, but I am not a monster, so, as I inspect you, if anything makes you uncomfortable, you are to raise your hand and I will stop. Understand?” You nod meekly and hide the blush rushing to your cheeks, never in your life has someone shown you such kindness, much less someone who so say hated you.

“You’ll use your hands now and spread yourself so I can inspect you now.” He sure wasn’t being unbearable, but he sure wasn’t living up to the beating and rough fucking he had promised you, his energy had changed, he was almost soft, or maybe you’d imagined that. Levi pulls a tight-fitting leather glove out of his pocket and slips his hand into it. He steps up behind you and grasps your little legs, and like you are nothing more than a doll, lifts you up onto the mattress with the rest of your top half.

“Keep your head down but stay on your knees,” he runs his hand over your soft rump and presses the arch of your back down, “well trained pets arch their back; it gives a better view to their owners.” The way he calls you pet makes you quiver with anticipation and you feel the slick building between your thighs. Levi must have sensed it because he pulls them down over your ass, painstakingly slow, you’re sure he’s doing it do you’ll feel them pull away from the slick forming at your embarrassingly eager cunt. Letting them fall to where your knees are planted he moves his face dangerously close to your slick covered hole, you feel his warmth in places you have never had touched before. You feel his finger circle your clit, being gently with his touch, sending shivers up your spine as a result. You dare to lean back into his touch. Men never touch you this way, really its only ever you who has circled your swollen bud with your nimble fingers, chasing your own orgasm, a real orgasm, not like the ones you orchestrate for the male gaze.

You wait for Levi to say something but he doesn’t, instead, he increases the pressure to the circles he is tracing, causing your breath to catch in your throat, you let out the tiniest mewl praying that he doesn’t hear it, he pulls his hand away.

“You are not supposed to be enjoying this, whore.” You let out a defeated sigh. Levi doesn’t move for a few minutes; you blush as you feel his eyes boring into your slick covered holes, you cannot see, but he is contemplative, he is thinking, wondering. You pray that he will say something else. Once again, he does not, he simply circles your swollen lips and probes his leather clad middle finger in. You swear you hear him let out a strained breath, but you’re not sure, your head is spinning and men don’t really take pleasure in stuff like this, do they?

He pushes in again, the furthest knuckle meeting your lips, he curls his finger upwards and rubs it against your walls, you know better than to make a sound, slowly, he pulls his finger out and you cringe at your wetness, your body must cringe physically as well because Levi picks up on it.

“Do you not like the sounds? To me, it is one of the best parts. I like to hear myself playing with the holes I fuck. It is a reminder of how depraved you are, how wet you get being manhandled.” With that he forces both his middle and ring finger into you, he curls up and rubs against your walls again, pulling his fingers back out, thrusting them back inside and repeating it over. You mewl again, but this time he does not stop.

“Listen to yourself, pet.” He continues his internal assault, though usually where you hate the assault left by men, you were enjoying his, you were hungry for it.

“Can you feel it building? Inside of your tiny body? Chase the end for me, I want you to.” Levi leans in and spits on where his fingers continue to scoop out of you like he was deseeding a melon, you squeeze your eyes shut and let the fire build in the pit of your stomach, you cry louder, your breathing speeding up, this pleasing him, Levi spanks you hard, his hands are heavy, and it hurts like hell, you feel your body about to reach its peak, you’re not sure how long you can hold off.

“I’m so… I’m so close… Please.” you try to cry out, but it comes as pathetic muffles through the handkerchief Levi had shoved inside your mouth, with that, he stops dead. In what feels like a nano second, you are flipped onto your back, held to the bed with Levi grasping your neck again. He straddles you, you cannot breathe he fists your throat so tightly you fear you may pass out, but you do not signal for him to stop, not once

His eyes stare into yours, they are full of lust; causing you to wonder if he secretly was enjoying this, that he may even like you, he shakes his head as if he heard your thought, you try your luck and dare to lift your hand and palm through his jet-black hair.

“Do not touch me.” He warns as he pins your hand above your head, his eyes turn back to the cold glare you’ve become quite acquainted with, he stands up and pulls you with the hand that was pinned against the bed.

You are thrown onto the cold wooden floor and your knees echo a cracking sound as they make contact, it stings, like an injured animal you try to crawl away but Levi is hot on your trail, he steps on your leg, just above your ankle, you are pinned, you try hard to wriggle out, but he is not weak. His shoe is freezing cold on your skin, the pain is manageable as he is holding back a little but you can feel a bruise forming already.

He violently pulls his belt undone and yanks his trousers down releasing his sizeable cock from the restraints of his boxers, “You’re making this harder for yourself, just stop wriggling.” You comply, feeling tired now, your little body starting to feel the abuse given to you over the last half hour, Levi’s eyes show a little pity as he flips you back onto your front, you knowingly kneel and push your holes on display for him as he removes his leather glove, with his trousers crumpled around his knees, he lines up behind you, he smacks your bare ass a few more times before collecting your slick on his fingers then coating his straining hardness with it before he palms it himself a few times. He presses the very tip against your hot lips before sheathing himself inside you completely.

Levi is much bigger than the men you usually take and you cry out and cover your own mouth with your hand, he reaches and pulls both of your arms tight behind you, grasping them both with one of his stern hands and the other continues to assault your ass cheeks with hard smacks.

“Don’t silence yourself, I want you to serve me as you would serve any other man, I want to hear you cry out, I want to hear you beg for me, I want to hear you come for me. Do you understand, pet?” You choose to stay silent, instead spitting out the handkerchief.

“I understand that you want me to do my job, I’m not stupid y’know.” A stupid, snide remark from you as he chokes you again, his fingers pressing into your windpipe. You’re sure he will kill you if he presses any harder. Levi slaps you hard, once, twice, thrice, you feel blood pool in your mouth as you realise he has cut your lip, you don’t hesitate as you spit in his face, the blood painting an ugly picture.

He licks his lips and contemplates his next move, he bucks his hips into you hard, you cry out, in pain or in pleasure, you are not sure but he continues to thrust in and out of you, reaching so deep inside you that you feel like breaking, yet you do not raise your hand. He releases the grasp on your arms, and they fall forward to support you as you are fucked, rough.

Levi reaches a hand around your legs and feels for your clit. He begins to rub slow circles again, and you feel it radiate deep inside your little body, he is unrelenting on his mission to make you come.

“Don’t hold back. I can feel you’re getting close.”, he reaches his other hand and pinches your left nipple between his fingers, he twists it hard and you mewl.

“Please don’t stop. Please. Please I want to come.” You’re barely audible as you practically whisper through your moans, the pleasure from Levi is unbearable, as t reaches its peak you see stars, you’ve never come like this before, like he truly cares about your pleasure, your body trembles and you come under his control, you can’t help but hold your breath as he releases his fingers from their current roles, and they grab your hips and fuck you back into him.

Continuing to come undone as Levi chases his own finish he grunts as he unloads ropes of come deep inside you, it’s warm and you welcome the feeling of being filled, suddenly, you are empty and his cock is gone, you feel his seed dripping out of you, your eyes grow heavy and you feel your chest heaving, the last thing you see is Levi scooping you up into his arms, you swear you saw a look of softness across his face, a look of hurt.

-

When you awaken, you are tucked into bed, a large t-shirt swallowing your sore body, you sit up and your head spins, it’s is dark outside and there is a glass of water and a small note on your bedside table, you sip from the glass and apprehensively thumb the note.

“I’m sorry” it reads. Levi. You cringe as you remember begging him for your orgasm. You’re pulled from your thoughts as your door quietly opens and Jools enters.

“Are you okay Olive?” he sounds genuinely concerned, “you’re covered in bruises… did he hurt you?” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable, again, you cringe as you recall the experience.

“I am okay Jools, I promise. How did I get to bed?” You expect Jools to say that he came and rescued you, but he doesn’t, instead he hesitates before beginning, “Levi… He, well, he bathed you, he applied creams, washed your hair, and he put you into bed. He hung around for a few hours, y’know. In case you awoke. Then he asked for some paper, wrote you a note and left.” You smile at that knowledge, regardless of what the note says, you feel that he wants to see you again.

“What did the note say?” Jools questions.

“Nothing important, just an apology, its weird”.

“Oh. Okay. If he really hurt you, you are to tell me. It is not usual for Levi to… Engage with women like he did with you. His behaviour was strange I don’t trust him”.

You look at Jools, he reaches out to touch your face, it aches, you remember the blows to your face, you are probably bruised there, too. “I am fine Jools, I was just doing my job, I am better for it, considering I didn’t have to engage with Boss!” You feign a smile, though Jools can see its fake, he trusts you enough to talk to him when you are ready.

“You had better go to bed then, Levi paid off your afternoon caller, by the way, I’m not sure about him, so be careful, please.” He turns and leaves, the door closes and you lay your heavy head back on your pillows, a curious shadow lurks by your window, but you miss it, falling into a deep slumber.

Just some peeping Tom, probably.

[magalidragon]

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic��� they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips.  He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form.  He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown.  He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form.  It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black.  The red was just the detailing.  He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him.  He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio.  He smirked.  "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense."  She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation."  She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs.  Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked.  It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her.  "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it."  He puffed his chest.  "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?"  He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form.  He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered.  If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again.  It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor.  On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath.  While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO.  They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new.  He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa.  Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director.  It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves.  He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio.  His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too.  It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill.  The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry.  It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont.  Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it.  She was a pistol.  This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention.  It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress.  There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent.  He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night.  He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep.  He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task.  It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes.  He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

--

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys.  It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other.  Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him.  He pointed his finger, warning.  "No way. This is black velvet.  I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them.  That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event.  He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall.  Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere.  "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks.  "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch.  "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block."  Davos nodded, signing, resigned.  "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him.  He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form.  It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing.  Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle.  He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle.  It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing.  She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute.  Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark.  "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained.  She had smirked.  "I grew up with the Dothraki.  They were my family.  I have never been defeated.  The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice.  "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific.  She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look.  Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow.  Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips.  He plucked at fingers, removing the glove.  With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching.  "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse.  "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her.  After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken.  He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything.  Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back.  "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.

[randomly-a-fan]

How Can “IT” Love a Human? Pt. 3

pt. 1

Pt. 2

Finale.

Archie wanted to see his mom, and so does his sister, but he knew that his dad wouldn’t let him, so he came up with a plan. “Dad, I’m just taking Kandy out to the park to play... and feast...” Archie said with a grimaced expression. Pennywise sighed before he responded. “Don’t be gone too long son, it’s going to be dark soon,” Pennywise said. Archie nodded and carried his sister in his backpack so it’ll be easier for him to get to places. When Archie made it to Cassandra’s place, he was going to sneak through the window where his mom is. 

Meanwhile, Scarlet was packing her things for when the time comes for her to leave. Cassandra walked in to talk to her paling cousin. “I’ve just hung up with Albert; he said he’ll be landing at the private airport at 10:00 pm tonight... Just so you’re aware...” Cassandra finished before she left for the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

As Scarlet continues packing, Archie got into the room through a locked window; obviously, Archie discovered his secret power. “Archie? What are you--” Then Kandy popped out of Archie’s bag after hearing her mom’s voice, as she was making happy gurgling noises. “Kandy? What are you both doing here, does your father know you were here?” Scarlet asked. “We just wanted to see you... We missed you... Even daddy misses you; he’s been moping on the couch all day.” Archie explained. Scarlet sighed as she was thinking about her husband. But thinking about him made her remember how he shut her out and expressed his negative feelings to her, made her cough ill-like. “Mom?” Archie said in worry. “...I know you two missed me so much, and I’m going to miss you both, very much...” As the three hugged, Archie wondered what his mom meant by ‘going to miss you’. “I’m leaving for home in New York tonight; I can’t bear the pain here in Derry...” Hearing what their mom said made Kandy cry since her mommy is leaving for good. “Aww, baby, come here...” Scarlet said as she picked up her baby and patted her back. “Mommy’s going to miss you too...” Scarlet said as she’s tearing up. Archie was devastated; the fact that his mom is never coming back will mean that he’ll have to be the responsible one; Oh how will he explain this to his dad?

*** 

Back at the Neibolt House, Pennywise was looking through the pictures back when he and Aquarius started dating; they were coming to life in his hands, just to get the visuals more clearly. 

He never has forgotten about the time they met; hating each other and fighting each other in their own monstrous form, in other words; playing hard to get.

Then he remembered their first kiss; true he first kissed her by the cheek, but that was more of a tease than an affection. It’s when he saved her from the laws that nearly caught sight of her killing the man for his sins, it was very unexpecting of her to kiss him passionately. 

Thinking and looking back at the photos is making him tear up. “I’d risk anything... to have you in my arms again... Clown or no clown, you’re still my Star in the Sky,” Pennywise said to himself as he was about to cry.

***

Pennywise noticed that it’s getting late, so he was planning on picking up the kids until he heard a noise from out back. “Archie?” Pennywise rushed out back and noticed that outside was showing some strong winds and clouds forming into a swirl, like as if there was going to be a twister. 

He was going to rush in until he was being sucked in by the vortex, pulling him down to the fiery pit. “NO PLEASE, I DID NOTHING WRONG...” Pennywise exclaimed while trying his hardest to hang on to the grass for dear life. However, he failed to hang on, he was being pulled down to hell and the ground closed back up.

It was dark for a minute until the flames lit up a path for Pennywise to follow. “Oh dear God...” Pennywise said to himself as he had no choice but to follow. “Come hither, Pennywise...” Said the echoey voice. Pennywise followed the creepy voice and noticed a silhouette of a satin. “Look... I may be in Hell, but you can’t take me away from my children when I’m not exactly dead yet--” “SILENCE,” said the figure as the flame rises. Pennywise flinched before the figure had the chance to explain. “Don’t talk until I SAY you can talk--” Then the light switch was flipped. “What the!” “Son, you know better than to be in the dark, you’ll ruin your eyes.” Said the mother. “MOM, I’m trying to do my WORK... I’m 923,435,003 years old for goodness sake!!!” said the mystery satin. 

Pennywise took a good look at the satin; correction, that ain’t no satin he has ever seen. It’s a clown. “Sorry about that, Pennywise... I’m just trying to be scary, it worked on Scarlet Jones when I first brought her here.” Said the Satin Clown. Pennywise’s jaws nearly dropped. “Wait... you’re that demon being that summoned her? Then you must have--” “Turned her into a demon clown? yes; she may be a Christian, but she did sin horribly: Lying to her parents, running away to join the circus...” The Satin Clown went on until Pennywise cut him off. “But why did you turn her into a human, can you change her back?” Pennywise asked and requested.

The Clown Satin got down from his throne to reveal his height; he’s actually quite short from Pennywise’s perspective. “Freddy Krueger thought it wouldn’t cause him harm if he messes with my apprentices; well, he thought wrong.” He snapped his fingers and appeared Freddy in the Chains of Despair. “Serves you right, Bacon Face!” Pennywise scolded Freddy. “To answer your last question, I can’t change her back unless she comes down here in a coma... But... You can change her back,” the clown said. 

Pennywise smiled with a big grin until he frowned in confusion. “How can I? I might accidentally kill her if I smell her succulent fear.” Pennywise asked. Freddy then spoke. “You thought you can prevent yourself from killing her by shutting her out? Well, you’re thought wrong; her fear is being separated from you and the kids, and since you kept you and your kids away from her, she’s slowly perishing, so... Serves YOU right, Ronald McDonald!” Freddy said with irony. The Satin Clown snapped his finger and gagged him with stitches sewed onto his lips shut. “When you’re sent back to Earth, go to her, kiss her by the lips, and she’ll be turned back into a demon clown.” Pennywise nodded with an evil grin as he doesn’t have a problem with that request. “As much as I hate to admit, but Freddy is right... She is slowly perishing, so you only have until 10:00 pm before she dies.” Pennywise stared in shock. “Well then, get me out of this Hell Hole!” Pennywise ordered.

With a snap of the clown’s fingers, Pennywise was laying on the ground in the grass and everything is back to normal. As he looked at the time, he saw that he only has thirty minutes before time runs out. As Pennywise was about to head over to Cassandra’s place, he saw his son with his baby sister in his backpack rushing over to their dad. “Dad... Mom... Mom is leaving... for... New York...” Archie said as he was running out of breath. “What!? You two were at Cassandra’s place... you know what, never mind that, it doesn’t matter... You said mommy is leaving for New York?” Pennywise asked. Archie nodded quickly. “Come on, we’ve got to get your mother back!” Pennywise called to his kids. Archie and Kandy stared at each other with excitement; they’re going to get their mother back... That is if they can make it to the private airport in thirty minutes. 

To Be Continued

[amphtaminedreams]

Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 2/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

First of all, thank you! I have never had a post do as well as the part 1 of my haute couture week review did and I am so overwhelmed with the positive feedback. This is probably funny to read for those of you getting thousands of reblogs on your posts, me acting like I won an academy award because I got a couple of hundred, but honestly I don’t expect any traction when I write on here (it’s basically just me word vomiting everything I’m thinking as if people want to hear it aka. mouthing off into what I thought was the void) so if you did read it, thank you! I do spend a long-ass time on these so it means a lot:-)

I’ll leave the self-indulgent ramble there though as it’s probably not what you came for and jump straight into part 2 of my thoughts, starting with Jacquemus. Yeah, I knew what I was doing when I tagged that in my last post. Simon Porte Jacquemus is the man of the *fashion* people right now; I’ve even found myself coming round to the Le Chiquito bag despite my original thought being “well, that’s fucking useless”. I know, I know, technically it’s not haute couture; it was part of Men’s Fashion Week, but it happened around the same time and everyone was talking about it on Twitter, so I feel like I have to include it.

In a way, it kind of reminds me of Bottega Veneta’s last RTW show, in that, especially with the women’s outfits, we seem to be sticking with simple, fitted garments and chunky, more statement jewellery. I’ve got to say I like the styling here a lot more though, and in general I’m a fan of this collection. The collared tops with cut outs underneath blazers are cool and I can’t wait until it gets warm enough for me to not feel dumb wearing my headscarfs like this; there’s a LOT of summer outfit inspiration. It’s not a mind-blowing collection or anything but it is effortlessly sexy and that’s something I wish I could say about myself. Most of us can only hope to look half as good as these models do whilst making the effort but at least Jacquemus is aspirational, lol. 

I also fucking adore this colour palette. I’m sick of neutrals literally just meaning brown and white; the navy, sand and muted khaki is a fresh edition to what is usually interpreted as the colours you’d seen worn by Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff and only Disney’s Riverboat Cruise staff. And I mean, come on-what is more neutral than typical English school carpet blue.

Next for the whole reason I had to make this haute couture week review 2 separate posts: Jean Paul Gaultier’s final show.

In the best way possible, it’s a lot. I don’t even really know where to start, except to say that I guess this is a fitting last show; a celebration of everything campy, messy, weird, performative, and punk is the perfect send off for a brand whose best known perfume of the last few years is called Scandal. More than anything, the final show represented the range of characters and cultures that have influenced JPG throughout his half-a-decade-long career, the lines that supposedly separate what is “masculine” and “feminine”, “old” and “young” and ultimately art and fashion blurred in the most exaggerated way possible. Sure, there are some looks which are individually a bit messy here but the way they were grouped into almost chapter-like segments meant that when you see them all together, they work. Nods to the patterns and structures that recurred from season to season were sprinkled throughout, from sailor stripes to corsets to the expected whirlwinds of colour. I’ll even allow the wellies in that one outfit; if I can get over bucket hats in Peter fucking Pilotto’s last RTW show, I can get over some questionable shoes here. Middle aged fishermen and boys who liked to pose with monster carp in their Tinder pictures as some weird display of masculinity everywhere rejoice.

Now onto a show that I personally found slightly disappointing: Margiela.

I think this one is a bit TOO weird for me. Like if you’re gonna go avant-garde, go all out. Chiffon gimp masks (I don’t know if that’s the intention here but that’s what I’m getting, sorry Maison) are something I’m not particularly fond of and I’ve never been a fan of the Tabi boots in the first place, let alone when they’ve seemingly been blown up to Michelin man style proportions. I didn’t find the show to be a total lost cause-I enjoyed the colour palette and I’ve always liked that contrast stitching detail, plus the bowler hats are interesting-but on the whole considering how much I liked the last RTW show, this is a bit of a let down. 

The looks I included are salvageable but (I feel mean saying this) there were genuinely a lot of pieces that did just resemble bits of fabric draped over each over with no discernible rhyme or reason, so much so that they reminded me of some of the monstrosities I saw at a Drag Race pub quiz this one time where we had 5 mins to make some garms out of loo roll and then have a team member model them for points down a makeshift runway. 

Ralph and Russo was alright. There were a few pieces that I really liked but again, I can’t help but compare this collection to the last, where it felt like the fussy details of bows and sequins and feathers and the Barbie Dreamhouse palette were utilised with a direction in mind. Here, I don’t get that. As ever, the gowns are gorgeous and I’d pay good money just to try one on for five minutes but as an overall collection I’d say there was a lack of higher vision, which is probably the snobbiest sentence I’ve ever written so forgive me.

As for Ronald Van Der Kemp, I could’ve done without including it to be honest, if it weren’t for the few pieces I’m in love with: the velvet cape, fur trimmed jacket and blue satin dress are probably my favourite pieces here.

So onto a collection I liked a lot more: Schiaparelli. 

The influence of nature from flowers in bloom to insects to the organic structure of the human skeleton is as present as ever, though this collection includes a lot more delicate symbolism than usual. Honestly, the details make it for me; the brooches, earrings and facial jewellery are other-worldly touches to outfits that could otherwise be simple fashion magazine editor on-the-go. That’s not in itself a bad thing! The suits are gorgeous. I mean, I’m talking fashion editor in New York in a power suit yelling orders down the phone while she rushes along with a coffee. A Miranda Priestley in the making type woman. THAT’S a modern take on the divine feminine that Maria Grazia should’ve been going for; our goddesses aren’t women who sit around looking pretty (though that helps too) and place curses on mere mortals anymore, they’re women who get shit done. 

With regards to Valentino, which was also a delight, let me start by saying this colour palette is EVERYTHING. It’s ugly sisters in Cinderella fantastic, and we know those 2 were the real fashion icons really. Other than that, I adore the Old Hollywood silhouettes from the gloves to the Liz Taylor-in-Cleopatra-level-dramatic earrings. Everything is opulent and expensive-looking and pretty much what we’ve all come to expect from Valentino. A strong 8/10.

For me personally, Viktor and Rolf was a standout and one of my favourite collections of haute couture week. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I know it’s at the complete opposite end of the spectrum to what was probably my other favourite collection, Elie Saab, but this is just my style down to a T, the perfect balance of grungy and cutesy that I want to achieve. 

There’s probably going to be a lot of objections to the temporary face tattoos and I get that, but I think they’re fucking sick. I obviously wouldn’t get a permanent one lest my mother murder me in cold blood however if I did, you bet I would be pairing them with frilly-ass babydoll dresses that you could pick up in Camden Market like this. 

And last but not least (that would be Dior), there’s Zuhair Murad.

Sigh.

IDK, man. Seeing Zuhair Murad dresses on Tumblr and WeHeartIt (remember that site? It still exists!) as a 14 year old was one of the things that got me into fashion, so it sucks that almost every time a new collection comes around, I feel underwhelmed. Disappointingly, the brand hasn’t really progressed all that much since 2013. It goes without saying that the stoning and the embroidery and sequins are stunning and would make anyone feel like a princess but from a critical point of view, I’m just not seeing anything new here. Whereas I feel like Elie Saab, for example, reflected the growing fascination with East Asian fashion and recognition of the supremacy of the region’s street style in his haute couture last collection, Zuhair Murad seems to be stuck designing the same dresses he was 6 years ago. 

To pick one example, the rounded stoned necklines are so outdated that they’ve been making their way onto department store prom dresses for years. I get that it’s supposed to be a reference to Ancient Egyptian style and I respect that, I was one of those 8 year old that was obsessed with mummies and the “Curse of Tutankhamun”, but couldn’t it be done in a more interesting way? It’s Maria Grazia’s spin on Ancient Greece all over again. Now I get how how the I imagine very niche subsection of people who are into fashion and Julius Caesar (okay, so I don’t even know if they still believed in mythology and all that malarky at that point in history but just roll with my comparison here) might’ve felt going through Vogue Runway. Anyway, I hate to end on a critical note and so be clear, these are still absolutely magnificent dresses. If we ignore those ugly round necklines, that is.

So that’s it for this post! If you read part 1 and 2, I hope you enjoyed it! As always, let me know your opinions and feel free to disagree. I’m literally just about to start trawling through all the A/W 2020 RTW collections though I imagine that’s gonna take me way longer to do than this, so I wouldn’t expect that for a month or two. In the meantime, I’m trying to fit shooting a Euphoria-inspired lookbook into my days off work which is looking atm like it’s going to be the end of March, so look out for that, and also a review of the red carpet fashion from this season’s award shows. 

As ever, thank you so much for reading and again, thank you for the reception on part 1 if you were one of the people that read it. It makes staying up til 3am with the jitters seem worthwhile, lol! 

Lauren x

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

4} Disquiet

BIG THANKS TO @prettybubblesintheair for the aesthetic! I’m still deciding which to use because I LOVE this mood board!

Masterlist

Keeper of Mischief & Thunder Masterlist

Vampire!Loki Laufeyson x Vampire Plus!Size Reader x Vampire!Thor Odinson

Warnings: Blood, SMUT! CUDDLES!

A/N: SO, the team finds out what has really happend to Thor and why he has been gone for long as well as meet I figured owed y'all a fic that gave good feels instead of the torture I have put y'all through lately! Well, it appears someone is a pet!

Words:+2,800

“Something you miss lover,” Loki spoke to Y/N the moment he stepped behind her, the young vampire sitting at the bar in leggings & long-sleeved shirt that went well with the blowing snow outside as she poked at the tablet that laid on the counter before her.

“Such as…,” Y/N smiled, leaning back into stout body laying her head back to look up at him kindly, closing topaz eyes when calloused hand went to soft neck to cherish the forgiving flesh while bowing over her for a kiss.

“Food. I remember you telling me that it doesn’t hold the same for you as it once did due to the heightened senses. I understand that it isn’t vital to us, but it was a thing you enjoyed was it not pet,” Loki spoke on velvet lips, loving the taste, innocence, Thor called it & had to agree.

“As you can tell by my size, yes I adored it, but I can’t bring myself to try anything. Even though I know it want make me sick I just… it's not the same,” Y/N sighed as Loki continued to cherish soft neck, head laid back into stout torso enjoying the cherishing of the gods hands over tender throat that he had bitten into less than an hour ago.

“Thor is to take you out when he gets back isn’t he,” Loki spoke across satin lips, warm had sliding from her throat into the scoop neck of the shirt, caressing around ample breast & into satin bra the overstimulated creature bucking out at noting begging for friction, leaning into Loki harder.

“Yes,” she moaned out.

Y/N’ hands dropping from stone counter to travel between thick thighs, fingers probing at thin fabric that covered already soaking core, the god himself forgetting where this conversation was going as arousal flooded keen senses. Loki’ freehand gliding down to the one rubbing throbbing clit through the fabric, Y/N whimpering when he pulled it away pressing warm lips to soft neck.

“That makes your possibly 15th time today, you should save yourself for Thor, I know he will be…. Hungry in more ways than one,” Loki mumbled into soft shoulder arms wrapping around ample torso as her warm arms wrapped with his.

“He’s late hasn’t sent a message & there is nothing on the news,” Y/N mumbled in Loki’ ear as he pressed kisses up lax jaw to eventually capture her lips only for the vampires to part when the door to the penthouse opened.

The god holding to Y/N who still leaned back into him smiling at the brawny god who entered but didn’t look happy, topaz eyes troubled & dull.

“Brother,” Loki began standing straighter as Y/N got to bare feet, both sensing the golden-haired god was… off, even jittering.

“Thor, what’s wrong,” Y/N began cautiously stepping closer pausing when Loki placed a hand on tender neck like the first time he brought her before Thor.

“Come here,” Thor’ voice gritted, hand reaching out to Y/N who looked him over, he had been gone too long.

“No, YOU come here,” Y/N spoke taking the two by surprise, soft hand reaching out, the young vampire ordering the older god who looked at her in shock but did take strides to take the hand she offered, Loki letting go as Thor dipped to soft neck taking in the ‘pure’ scent.

“Why want you hunt,” Y/N breathed into the gods neck as bulky body collapsed over her, arms wrapping around to pull tight.

“Because, it's not you,” he breathed, Y/N looking to Loki who was silent at her side, obvious the younger brother was still at a loss how to handle the youngest vampire of the group.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Loki scolded the god who only pulled tighter to Y/N who ran one hand into Thor’ hair while the other wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” he growled menacingly, Y/N’ lithe fingers gripping hard to golden locks to jerk the gods head to the side with a snarl herself.

“Don’t the two of you dare fight,” the young vampire snipped both looking at Y/N in shock at the way she was taking to bossing the two, who had millennia on her, but neither would harm her, not their goddess.

“Forgive me pet,” Loki began, stepping so he was flush to her side, warms fingers releasing Thor’ hair to let his head back to soft shoulder, the brawny god muttering an apology into soft neck while Loki weaved his fingers into loose Y/H/C locks to lean over the side opposite Thor to place a kiss into her hair.

“Forgiven, both of you. I'm going to take Thor to bed, can you handle the list,” Y/N asked Loki, obvious Y/N wouldn’t get to leave the penthouse.

It made Loki’ heart hurt because their little goddess hadn’t been out of the penthouse in several days except for the balcony, Loki having to leave to feed & return. The two gods beginning to note Y/N had become a bit of a shut in oddly enough obvious she hated the city but wouldn’t admit it. Hoping that they weren’t ruining her by coddling her like a small china doll.

“Of course, love,” Loki smiled, obvious he was upset she wasn’t leaving once again, he had shown the young vampire how to charm her senses, so the rank of the city didn’t make her sick when she ventured onto the balcony to sun, but that did little to comfort the fact Y/N refused to leave the tower located miles away from the Avengers compound.

“Thank you,” Y/N breathed as the god pressed one more kiss into Y/H/C hair before leaving the two alone.

The young creature tugging the god that clung to her over to the chase, sitting with Thor still clinging close & gasping out when fangs broke the flesh of tender neck, no longer able to hold back. Calloused hand going to the back of Y/N’ head to lay quivering body to the arm of the chase, not harshly as he took what was needed. A quivering moan leaving Y/N’ throat as his free hand dipped between spreading legs to rip the leggings crotch & releasing her neck.

“I want to try something,” Thor smiled with bloody lips hand leaving her head to allow Y/N to watch, the god in awe when a flash of topaz seidr took every stitch she had to leave curvaceous body bare under him.

“Learned a new trick have we,” Thor laughed.

“Just for my gods,” Y/N smirked darkly, locking gazes with burning topaz.

His cheeks beginning to regain color, leaning into kiss pink lips before trailing blood stained ones down shivering body, only stopping above ample mound kissing above juicy slit. Tongue darting out to lick teasingly over throbbing clit as ample hips tried to buck for contact but quick to place a large calloused hand on plump stomach to stop all action & earning a whimper of displeasure.

“I may be starving but I have plans sweetheart,” he smiled darkly.

The god forcing thick thighs as far apart as possible, slowly running calloused fingers in wet slit, circling needy clit before pressing two digits into begging cunt. A calloused thumb working throbbing bundle of nerves as he moved down to kiss on the inside of thick thighs. He was teasing her to the breaking point, sucking gently all around but for where it was needed the most. Whimpering pleas for release & quick to catch her wrist to prevent her from helping herself.

“You're mean,” the creature pouted out with a shiver, wrist twisting in his hold, letting out loud whimper as tongue slowly licked over sensitive nerve maddingly slow, tongue spread out burning & wide to put pressure before he sucked harshly.

The god filling cunt clinch, moving his thumb to take the place of hot tongue to rub ever increasingly firmer on swollen clit, moving back to trembling thigh & sinking fangs into the soft flesh as she came undone over curling fingers. This time Thor prolonged her orgasm, giving reprieve, a trick learned from Loki more or less.

“Thor,” her voice shook.

The young vampire noting he had taken an example on how to prolong her release from the god of mischief himself & coupled with the bite it drove Y/N into convulsions. Lithe hands threading into silky locks as she continued to cum for what felt like hours letting out a weak whimper when drenched fingers pulled free, spent body falling to the couch as the wound was licked clean before Thor leaned up & over jittering body.

“Like that did you? Appears someone else enjoyed it as well,” he laughed pecking pale pink lips & looking down at ruined jeans.

“God, what the fuck was that,” she panted, body shaking as the young vampires lips & body followed the god to sit up, Thor swift to pull jittering naked body to straddle clothed thighs, kissing between ample breast, plump hips bucking at still erect member, but pants saturated with cum.

“A… trick just for my little dove. I thought you would enjoy it. Now, how about we get cleaned up & go out? Loki tells me you are refusing to leave, yet again & I think it is time you meet the team,” he smiled at the pout Y/N gave him hand falling to tug at the hem of his t-shirt, interest peaking at the mention of meeting the Avengers.

“They know….,” Y/N puzzled, feeling unsure that she voiced it out loud.

“They know… enough. I was a bad mission, I had to tell them some things dove, it's ok,” he smiled kindly at the nervous creature that stayed put cocking disheveled head at the god, continuing to tug at the shirt but holding the gaze.

“Thor, I…. What about Loki,” Y/N began, fidgeting more to look down at the wrinkling hem, the god quick to lift slightly paler chin so topaz eyes looked at him, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by either vampire god that their goddess would pine after the other desiring both to be close & it made them worry they were doing more harm than good at how they kept her.

“This has been an issue Loki & I have spoken of for over a year, we knew this day would come, especially when he turned me two months ago, we can’t hide forever dove. I'm sorry little one,” the god kindly apologized hand slipping to wrap around the nape of cool neck, calloused thumb cherishing along tense jaw & watching fangs nip nervously at her pink lips.

“What or who am I….,” Y/N asked nervously, leaning into his palm for comfort.

“My vampire lover, that is all they need to know at the moment.”

“Thor, I'm not comfortable..”

“I need you to be dove, because I need you. I have no other way of putting it, I need you just as Loki does. You're our little goddess & I may need you with me if the next mission last this long, I almost…”

“Please baby, learn to feed without me,” Y/N pleaded, bloody tears rimming topaz eyes as she finally quit worrying the hem of his shirt to cup warm cheeks, soft cool thumbs stroking over stubbled skin.

“I can’t,” Thor’ voice shook head buying into ample chest as cool bear arms wrapped around warm head to hold him, in vampire age Y/N was just a year old while Thor was merely weeks & Loki was several years but seemed to take to it faster maybe because his seidr.

“Ok, but how long do we have to stay,” she asked quietly strong arms wrapping tightly around thick torso to pull her close into scorching body.

“As long as needed I'm afraid,” Thor admitted as he looked up at the perplexed vampire that drug bottom lip between her fangs nervously but shook her head in understanding.

“So, you're the girlfriend,” came excited voice of the one introduced to her as Wanda spoke, stepping up to Y/N & Thor.

It was clear the redhead was curios if the one introduced to them as a vampire would interact, it was obvious Y/N didn’t know what to think or how to take the compound or any of the others. The young vampire trying her best to be cordial but the grip she held on Thor’ arm told them she wasn’t very trusting at the moment.

“Yeah, Y/N,” the vampire smiled showing fangs as she offered a hand to shake, Thor prompting her to go with Wanda.

“I need to speak with Steve & Tony dove, it's ok I'm right here,” he reassured kissing cool forehead before letting go.

His young lover’s nervousness making his own guts twist, a trait he & Loki noticed after feeding off her. The young vampires emotions bleeding though to theirs, even when far apart & Thor knew if it got much worse Loki would show up not caring who he upset. The god relieved when she sat with the redhead who burned with questions that Y/N began to relax.

“Did Loki…,” Steve began as he, Tony & Thor stepped away from Sam, Bucky, Natasha & a few other agents to continue the conversation started on the quinn jet from the gods tantrum that led to him explain mostly about what had led to Loki returning as a vampire & the events that led to Thor being turned.

“No, Loki found her in an ally. Y/N’ maker had thrown her out like garbage & well, because I want…. hunt… I feed from her,” the god admitted quietly looking down to worn boots, Steve staring opened mouthed trying to wrap his mind around it all while Tony let out a Jesus that had Steve knocking the billionaire in the side & hinting over to Y/N who looked to be relaxing as the redhead looked to be excited while talking to her.

“How does she… hunt… is that what we are calling it,” Tony began trying to keep it together but obvious he needed another drink as he stepped to the bar & came back with a full bottle of whiskey.

“We don’t allow Y/N to hunt, she feeds from Loki, he is the only one of us who hunts at the moment,” Thor spoke, looking down to his glass, it was obvious it took a lot for the god to tell them this & felt Y/N getting antsy because of it, Thor forcing himself to calm & look back up at his two friends who could do nothing but stare at him.

“Synthetic blood? I know it exist have you tried that,” Tony spoke up, ever the genius trying to solve a problem.

“It has been discussed but we haven’t tried, but we, us three are different from the vampires of this realm, we are still trying to get a grasp on this,” Thor admitted, filling Y/N calming for the moment as Wanda continued to yammer with her.

“How long,” Steve asked, finally breaking the silence, glancing over at Y/N who sat oddly still but then again neither did Thor since he came back.

“For Loki, 2 years, for her a year there about & myself 2 months,” he admitted, following Steve’ glance to Y/N who was interacting with the redhead, the god feeling a bit of relief.

“Christ Thor! You could have told us sooner…,” Tony began, Steve trying to keep it to a minimum.

Y/N did fill ok talking to the excited Wanda, it was helping put nervous mind at ease but the tension beginning to poor off of Thor was making her sicker with the passing time. The young vampire wanting to leave, trying to keep up appearances with Wanda but wasn’t sure she could hold it together when Natasha showed up.

“You must be Y/N,” the other redhead smiled at the overwhelmed vampire who stood to offer her hand, almost losing all calm when taking the assassin’s hand due to the scent of war & battle that rolled off of her.

“Yes, I am,” Y/N painted on a smile, no she can’t do this, motion catching unfocused attention to where Thor stood with the two men, Loki making his presence known, stepping close to Thor to speak to the god & look straight at Y/N.

The look in the gods eyes told the young vampire to excuse herself & come to her gods. Y/N doing as ‘asked’ to step up to Thor who reached out to ghost over soft flesh, but the overwhelmed creature shied slightly, favoring Loki, a thing she never done treating both equal. This time pale soft hand reaching to ghost through the raven-haired gods but not latching on to step past him & down the corridor she & Thor had used to get into the facility.

“I’ve got her,” Loki spoke quietly, turning quick to follow Y/N down the corridor, wrapping an arm around tired shoulders & the two gone in seconds.

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[janescymour]

anew. (explicit)

can be read alone or as a sequel to full. darkish emperor kylo and empress rey with a fair bit of fluff at the end because i’m a weak soul. also available on ao3. anyway, enjoy. xo e. 

They rule together in robes of black and burgundy satin and silks, the stitching immaculate as the fabrics coat their bodies and fall across their skin. Rey looks every bit an empress, her hair long and dark, half of it knotted at the top of her head like an intricate crown. Her face is stone, always, never wavering. She is a queen of ice on the outside, stoic and commanding. Her eyes are harshly rimmed with kohl, her lashes impossibly long. She loves to command and rule, to dispense justice where it is needed and reward loyalty when it is due. Kylo tells her all the time this is what she was meant for. He sends her images of their galaxy through the bond — a dark castle on a planet, a new capital, a buzzing city that flits beneath their palace. Crowds worshipping at their feet and Rey drowning in admiration from their people. This is the world they will build together.

***

She thought destruction was what awaited her, but she will rebuild with her emperor at her side. She takes his hand, as she always does, when they are wed and crowned on the very same day. Rey doesn’t think of the friends who have found new purpose now. She does not even miss them. How could she when she is in a crowd of twenty thousand cheering citizens, chanting her name, filling that awful, dark part of her that fears rejection still? She sits facing Kylo, down on their knees together in front of everyone, as if to say we shall only bow to each other and no one else. The silver coronet ladened with the finest jewels is lowered on her head, sealing her fate for all the world to see. She smirks when Kylo is crowned Emperor — the title of Supreme Leader is useless to him, he says, what power does he really have with something so blatantly made up? Rey grins and tells him he has all the power in the world — he can burn cities and planets to the ground in an instant if he wishes. That’s what matters. “Eyes on me,” she mouths, instilling herself as an anchor.

***

The coronation feast is in excess. There are tables and tables of food: sweets, savory meats, rich and ripe vegetables and harsh and light wines. It is more than Rey has ever seen in her life and she hates that. It feeds through the bond, wide open like a flood, her anger besting her in this moment until Kylo wraps one hand around the back of her neck, lips at her ear: hush now, beautiful girl, the world belongs to you. You will have everything. He towers over her, long and broad, lanky, his darkened form casting shadows in front of where Rey stands. It is utterly possessive and he’s hardly touching her. She eyes him and then the tables once more. He is right.

***

Kylo feeds her from his hand, slick juice from the fruit dripping from his wrist as he presses it to Rey’s sweet lips. She moans in pleasure when it touches her taste buds, unable to recall anything quite so nice, even on the Resistance Base where food had never been an issue. He cuts something new up for her before he spreads it on his fingers, letting her mouth draw his digits in to suck them clean. Rey can feel the excess dribble from the side of her mouth, leaving a trail of stickiness across her jaw and neck before it dips to run down the front of her chest. It is now Kylo who looks starved and denied. He looks as hungry as Rey has always been. Rey hooks a leg around his hip, pulling him in closer as greedy little fingers work their way to the fruit tray beside her head. “More,” she says. “Please.” After a beat.

***

They take their chambers together — there is no point in being apart. The bond screeches when Kylo and Rey are separated and it is a consequence neither wishes to recognize. They are tied together, intertwined; one cannot live without the other. Rey clings to him when they fall into their plush mattress, the sheets and duvets swallowing their bodies. “Kylo,” Rey murmurs, gracefully sliding her legs over his hips so she straddles him.

“Rey,” he replies, inching his fingers up her thighs, pushing up the silken night gown until her perfect cunt lies exposed to him. “You’ve always been so beautiful. Even when you had no idea what you were capable of.”

She leans down to kiss him fiercely, sealing their fates once more.

***

The emperor and his empress are slow to rise in the morning, preferring to spend the early hours in sleepy pleasure. Kylo rises before Rey, his little scavenger finds comfort in her rest after all her difficult years. She no longer has to be up at sunrise to have food. But he always gets antsy, wanting her awake with him, to have her attention — to have her hazel eyes staring at him like he’s all she needs.

He wakes her gently, curling his body around hers, hands draping over her chest. He palms her breasts slowly, sighing as Rey’s flesh molds to his own. Her tits are small but pert, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. She was made for him, carved with his form in mind — Kylo is sure of it. He peppers kisses across her shoulder, lips trailing every inch of skin he can reach before he turns Rey to her back, moving slowly down so that he slips between her thighs.

Kylo always loves the way his girl tastes, licking long stripes up and down her center until she’s bucking and sobbing with how badly she wants to come, back bowing in a sharp curve as she presses herself down on his tongue. He’s too happy to let it slip inside her as Rey fists her tiny hands in his hair as her thighs tighten around his head, caging him in so he can’t stop, can’t get away, so that his tongue is the only thing she knows. She cries out his name when she comes, heels digging into his shoulder blades as she rides it out.

He lays between her legs, cheek pressed against her thigh, his face still damp with her orgasm. Kylo watches Rey’s face with lidded eyes, brown irises searing as he watches her reactions when his hand strokes up and down her center. Her pretty cunt is swollen with arousal and she’s absolutely dripping, coating his fingers where he touches her. “The way you taste, Rey...” he mumbles into her skin as he slips his index finger inside her once more. “The way you smell.” His tone is reverant. 

Kylo groans, nipping her skin with his teeth as he drags his finger out of her and upwards until he reaches her clit.

Rey whimpers and bucks her hips against him, “Too sensitive,” she whispers, reaching down to tangle her hand in Kylo’s hair.

“I know,” he croons, moving his ministrations lower before he rises to his knees, throat going dry at the sight of Rey spread so bare and wantonly before him. Her wetness pools at the base of her cunt, staining the sheets below her. He takes a deep breath through his nose as he spreads it messily on her thighs, entranced by the way it dries and leaves a slick sheen on her tanned skin.

“Want you,” he says, trembling with desire as he dips his thumb into her entrance. Rey rocks against it with a moan before he drags it downward, dripping with wetness, past her perineum to the tight ring of muscles that seem so deliciously forbidden. “All of you.”

Rey’s breath hitches when Kylo presses against it, though he does not enter her.

“Yes,” she breathes.

***

Rey does not expect denunciation from the galaxy, even if comes in the form of a lone planet. It has a population large enough that it makes her blood boil that any citizen would dare have the audacity to oppose their rightful rulers in a new world. She watches her empire’s base be destroyed via Hux’s holovid and tightens her fists in anger.

“Destroy them,” she commands, standing from her position in Kylo’s lap where she had been perched upon their shared throne. Rey’s bare feet bounce across the smooth floor in her fury as she approaches the redheaded general.

“ — Empress, if I could...” Hux begins, “There might be one other...”

His throat constricts before he can say anything else. Hux’s face turns a deep red as Kylo takes his place behind Rey, his hand wrapped gently around the back of her neck. It is terrifying how sweetly he touches his queen when he is strangling a man at her feet and yet it feels as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

“It was not a suggestion,” Kylo says, voice raw. “It was an order.” He releases Hux without another word, the man remaining on his knees in his rulers’ shadows.

***

Rey always thinks her name sounds like a prayer on Kylo’s lips. It sounds best when his mouth is dark pink and bruised with her harsh kisses and the bites she leaves with her teeth. It sounds best when he has her pressed to her knees, hands locked in her long hair, thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth. He fucks her throat with no qualms, fingers moving to trace her jaw gently, coaxing it open so that he might slide deeper. The emperor always calls out for her, over and over, grunting her name when her nose presses to the thatch of hair his pubic bone.

She’s so absolutely good for him, his little scavenger, his empress, moaning and mewling around his length as tears stream down her cheeks from lack of oxygen and the way he gags her. Maybe it should feel like a punishment but it doesn’t — not with how he’s telling her you are everything, I’ve waited my entire life for you, I would burn down the galaxy for you before his words turn filthy, Rey, I’d fuck you forever, you take my cock so well, don’t you, sweetheart? Is this what you’ve wanted? Tongue out, Rey, and swallow.

Rey keens and heaves for breath when Kylo releases his hold on her, her hazel eyes wide and watching Kylo as he takes his length into his hand and pumps, fisting himself up and down and up and down until he spends himself on her taste buds. She adores the taste of him, lapping it up and catching what slips out of the side of her mouth, licking it greedily off her thumb.

***

Perhaps they are depraved. Perhaps they are greedy. Perhaps they are simply devoted. It is a mix of all three. “Do you hear the way they cheer for us?” Kylo whispers, pressing his left hand flat against the glass next to Rey’s head.

“Mmm,” she hums.

“It is how it should be. You were meant to stand by my side.”

Rey fits her fingers into the empty spaces between his, nodding. “Always.”

“Have you everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”

“Nearly.”

***

Rey asks to take a ship to see the planet that’s in active rebellion destroyed. She demands it to be just her and the emperor, as it always should be — as it always will be. She’s in a new role but she’s still Rey, still the same little scavenger from Jakku that begged and pleaded for a place to belong. Still a pilot.

Kylo stands behind her, hand braced on the back of her neck, fingers playing in the stray strands of hair as they watch fire rain down, burning the city to the ground and all those that inhabit it. She almost wishes they were on the ground watching those who dared claim she and Kylo have no right to rule fall where they stand. She'd like to see them fall at her feet in something other than reverence. 

“No,” Kylo says immediately, sensing her thoughts as soon as she thinks them. Her mind is just as much his and his hold on her tightens reflexively. “Absolutely not. You’ll stay here. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know,” Rey replies, bottom lip pouting out. “I just…”

He shushes her with a finger to her lips.

Kylo fists the back of her tunic in his free hand, sliding it up so he can touch the smooth surface of her skin as his leans forward to press his lips to the nape of her neck. “You did this,” he whispers, “This is all you.”

She can’t help the whimpering moan that falls from her lips.

He takes her there, hard and heavy, fingertips bruising her hips as he thrusts his cock into her from behind, sliding deep inside her cunt. The explosions from below shake their ship and it only sends Rey higher, encouraging her to move, to thrust her hips back to his so he can bury himself within her cunt. Her toes skim the surface of the floor as Kylo fucks her, pushing her up against the control panel of the ship, breath fogging up the view panel. “Harder,” she whispers, leveraging as she bends over fully, winding her hand between her legs to rub at her clit. She still finds it incredible to feel Kylo’s length sliding in and out of her when she touches herself. It’s enough to send both of them falling over the edge of oblivion.

She comes when the final explosion rings out, signaling the end of those who would oppose them.

***

Rey lays her hands flat across her swollen belly, padding lightly around the room as Kylo sits at the desk in the center of the room. There’s work to be done but he can’t take his eyes off Rey for more than a second to even think about starting it.

He’s entranced with the way she moves slowly now, her back arched with the growing baby in her belly. She carries their heir, a strong one, if what they both feel through the bond is anything to judge by.

“I have everything I wanted,” Rey says, face lighting up into a smile — one that isn’t cruel or bent on creating or destroying — one that is just peace.  “Do you?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, holding his hand out to her. “I do.”

[it-is-bugs]

TDBM Fic: The Pleasure of Your Company - 4

Finally!  The next part rather got away from me... In case the thread was lost in the time passed, this is a series of scenes taking place before the Jean and Lucien wedding, from the POV of other characters.   4. The Bridal Party -

At first Celia didn't recognise Jean Beazley. It wasn’t just the new hairstyle and the shocking tendency to wear trousers to the shops. There was a confidence about her since becoming engaged to Lucien Blake that had changed her very carriage. Then Celia noticed the familiar tip of her head, furrow of her brow and she said "Jean!" before she remembered that Jean had deserted them--for that shocking man.

'Let's look at that tummy.'  His voice had been kind and gentle, his fingertips soft.  He'd smelled nice.  Not like her husband, how he reeked of sour alcohol and stale cigarettes, and whose grip was clumsy and painful.  Confused, Celia started to back down the narrow shop aisle, pulling her baby pram along.

Before she make her retreat, Benny echoed his mother's excited squawk from his pram.  

"Celia!"  Jean quickly dropped the pale ivory tulle that she'd been fingering.  They were among the fine fabrics suitable for christenings, confirmations and weddings.  

Celia shushed Benny.  There was no avoiding Jean now, so she might as well ask: "Starting on your wedding gown?"

Jean didn't answer.  She leaned over to tweak the baby’s plump cheek. "Benny's grown so much.  The last time I saw him was before Christmas, of course."    

Celia nodded, uncomfortable.  She turned back to the fabric.  "That'll be a lovely gown.  Getting a bit of a late start though."  She'd seen the announcement in the Courier and now the wedding was be in two weeks' time.  It hadn't be in the church notices, of course.  

"I'm not making a gown.  I bought a nice suit." Jean smiled stiffly.  Her gaze shifted back to the frothy silks.  "I'm too old for such silliness anyway."  

"Right," Celia murmured.  Benny began to fret and she bent to soothe him.  

"He looks just like his father," Jean noted.

"Thank God."  Quickly changing the subject, Celia snared the end of a bolt of an ivory satin.  "You've made so many lovely dresses for others, why not yourself?"  She remembered that Jean had made her dress, had treated her like a real lady during the fittings. The future had seemed so bright in those days, Ben so in love and attentive.  

"It's silly," Jean repeated, shrugging.  

Celia gave Benny a teething ring to quiet his fussing.

Jean continued, as though reading her mind.  "But considering the spectacle that we've been putting on for the whole town, me wearing a proper dress would hardly raise an eyebrow." Jean always was the sort to cut right to the meat of the matter.  Cecia's laughter bubbled out.  

Jean joined in, but then sobered.  "Pa--a friend, a very good friend, recently told me that we need our triumphs.  I haven't had many in life.  Always worried about what others would think or say--but maybe it's time.  Time to enjoy this day."  Her smile turned impish again.  "After all, I might as well give something yummy for the gossips to chew on."

Celia became practical.  "Do you have a pattern?"

Jean tapped her temple.  "Right here."  

Celia motioned to a hovering clerk.  "Let's get started then."  She felt very daring for the first time in a long time...well, since she'd accepted an invitation for tea with Terrance Hampton, their insurance agent with the engaging smile. She still wasn't sure what she felt about Jean's abandonment, but she knew that she had to be bold once more, or lose herself forever.  

"There's not time for me to finish--"

"Let us get started," Celia repeated firmly, even as her hands shook with uncertainty.  

X

But it wasn't going to be that easy.  Ben started his usual integration as soon as she told him that she was going out for the evening, and several more evenings in the future until the gown was finished.  

"Jean Beazley?  Bullshit!" he roared.  

Celia covered Benny's ears.  "Language!" she warned.    

"That slapper's been tossed out of church.  You're not going to associate with her."

Furious, Celia spat, "Decide which it is.  Am I sneaking off to an affair or hanging around with another slut?"

Backed into a corner, Ben took a step forward, just to see her cower in fear.  

She tried a softer approach.  "Ben, truly.  It's helping an old friend out.  She can't tailor the dress herself."

"She's been tossed out by Father Emery!  How's that gonna make you look?"

"She chose to leave of her own accord--"

"And then had some armed standoff in the cemetery!"

"Ben, don't be silly! This is Jean Beazley you're talking about! Christopher Junior was a mate of yours."

He was always much more dangerous when he lowered his voice as he did now.  "You're not going."

"I promised," she whispered.  "And Dorothy and Evelyn are going.  It'll be perfectly respectable."  In fact, she hadn't rung up the other ladies yet, and wasn't even sure her friends would be willing to visit the disgraced former member of the sewing circle.

It did take some convincing for Evelyn: "Celia, I was Father Morton's housekeeper and now I do for Father Emery three times a week.  It would seem that I condone what Jean's done, and that's simply not the case."

"I'm surprised that you associate with me," Celia said, stung.

"But you have confessed your sins," Evelyn pointed out.  

It was time to make a low shot. "You may have gone to jail for murder if it wasn't for Doctor Blake."

Evelyn had been quiet for a long time before saying, "Hate the sin, love the sinner."

"So I'll pick you up at six?"

Dorothy had been much easier, even eager.  "It's been ever so long since I've seen Jean.  I'll make biscuits."

Celia brought Benny, promising Ben some peace and quiet for the evening.  He'd be drunk when she got home, hopefully passed out to give her some solitude of her own.  

When the sewing circle arrived at the Blake house, every room was lit bright and people bustled everywhere. The dignified household of the senior Doctor Blake was gone.  

"I'm so sorry," Jean said, ushering them through the house, "Lucien and his gang are setting up our new bed-edroom."  She stuttered on 'bed' and flushed.  

She quickly introduced everyone. Besides Lucien Blake, there was Chief Superintendent Matthew Lawson, nearly unrecognisable in civilian clothes; a young policeman, Danny Parker; and the Courier reporter, Rose Anderson.  The two young people were in dungarees and worn shirts, and although Lawson leaned heavily on a cane, he seemed ready to work as well.  

Jean settled the ladies in the dining room, her dress form at the ready, and the shopping sacks with the fabrics and notions in them. Lucien was fussing about though, his eyes bright and curious on the women.  She made the situation clear, flapping her hands at him. "Your lot straighten out the studio."  She called to Danny.  "Bring the folding screen from the doctor's exam room.  It'll shield this doorway."  For the doorway between the lounge and dining room, she tugged the heavy curtains free from their holdbacks.  "No peeking, Lucien."  

"I'm not," he said as he peered over her shoulder and smiled greetings.  They all murmured uncomfortable replies.  

"Change your clothes before you ruin another pair of trousers."  She gave him a brisk slap on the bum as a way of moving him along, but that got her a slow smile, and their eyes locked.  

Celia couldn't look away as her friends did. Her lover had gazed at her that way.  She'd believed him when he told her that she was special to him, that they'd be together someday--no second wedding for her, though. She didn't believe in divorce. Head down, she started to sort through her sewing box for her scissors and pins.  

"Right. I'll be a good boy," Lucien murmured before heading to his bedroom.  Her cheeks pink, Jean yanked the curtains closed and joined the other women.  

She had several magazine photos for reference, and had done a sketch of a dress based on her favourite elements. She'd marked pages in her pattern books for a tea length satin skirt and a fitted bodice with a fine lace overlay.  After rolling out paper, she quickly set the patterns and the women pinned them to the fabrics.  

"Thank you so much for helping," Jean said, "it means alot to me."

Dorothy squeezed her hand.  "I've missed you so much, Jean."

"I've missed you too."

Celia bit back, 'Then why have you left us?'

"Jean?" was at the curtain.  

"Yes, Lucien."  She didn't look up from the piece that she was cutting.  

"I've changed."

She sighed.  "And?"

"Do you want to check my clothes?"

She whispered to them, "He doesn't dress down much."

Flipping back the curtain just enough to see him, she looked him up and down.  "That shirt!" she exclaimed.  The other women craned their necks to see.  He wore a white dress shirt but there was a faint but large stain on the left side of the chest.  In the center of the stain, Jean had neatly stitched shut a large tear.  His trousers were faded gray, the knees a bit shiny with age.  

He was rolling up his sleeves, and snugged them at elbows. "Will I pass muster?"

She rested her hand in the middle of his chest, and rubbed a light circle.  Tweaking the open collar down flat, she said, "You'll do," giving him a soft smile.  

He planted a quick kiss on her cheek as to not muss her lipstick, and then dramatically swished the curtains closed.  

After a moment, Jean turned back to her friends.  Brushing a lock of hair off her flushed cheek, she smiled at them.  "Right.  Back to it."  

At first, It was just like old times.  But when their needles were flashing, basting together the pieces, the conversation turned to the wedding.  

Jean kept her voice casual.  "You've all received your invitations?"

They murmured back.  Celia pricked her fingertip with a pin and quickly sucked it dry before the blood could stain the fabric.  

Smoothing the lace out flat to cut it, Jean said, "I understand if you can't come.  But you are truly welcome."  

Before they could respond, there was a great crashing in the hall and the young policeman came barreling into the room, knocking over the screen.  A massive walnut headboard was stuck crossways in the studio doorway.  Benny started to cry.

Jean rushed forward to replace the screen. "Danny, what are you doing?"

"I lost my footing, Auntie Jean.  That's a bloody big bed."  Danny raised his eyebrows and she smoothed her hands down her skirt, avoiding his teasing grin.  

Matthew stuck his head around the screen.  "Danny, get the hell back over here. Lucien can't hold it up all on his own and I'm useless," he grumbled, irritated.    

"I need a hand here," came a breathless male voice from behind the bed.

"Where's that girl?" growled Matthew.  "Gave her a man's job to do and no sign of her."

"She's stuck in the studio,." Danny pointed out.

Jean gave the women an exasperated look.  "I'd better go look in on all this.  I'll put the kettle on afterward.  Just about time for a tea break, I say."

Celia was settling Benny down a bit, giving him a bottle but his eyes were still wide and anxious as he looked around.  Their house was much more quiet and dark.  

Evelyn leaned over the table to hiss: "I'm not surprised by any of this.  Doctor Blake is a bit--"

"I've brought my ginger biscuits," Dorothy said, cutting her off.  "Could you find them in my bag?" she asked Evelyn, shutting off the gossip. She pushed herself up from the table and stuck her crutches under her arms before hobbling into the kitchen.  The other women followed.

After washing their hands at the tap, the work crew joined them, ribbing each other for the lack of progress.

Jean poured out, shaking her head.  "It won't matter if we have this dress finished, if there's no marital chamber to retire to after the ceremony."

"Here, here," Lucien said a bit too strongly for everyone's comfort.  

"Time to call in reinforcements," said Matthew, and got on the phone.

Benny was still fussing, and Celia was having trouble juggling his squirming body and her teacup.  While moving around the table with the teapot, Jean took the baby and went to pass him to Rose.  The young woman looked horrified, so Jean settled him on her hip and finished her round.

Lucien came up beside her and cupped Benny's head.  "It's all too much for you, mate?"

"He's teething," said Celia said shortly.  

"I can get him something for that," Lucien said, his mood quickly brightening at the prospect at offering medical assistance.  

As he bustled back with a bottle in hand, the front door rang.  He opened the door as he went past.  A woman with short, slightly untidy red hair was there.  

"Oh hello, Alice.  Come on in."   

Alice's face blanched at the sight of all the people in the kitchen.  

"Yes, Alice, join us," Jean said, beckoning.  She introduced Alice to the sewing circle.

Dorothy asked, "Are you going to help us with the dress?"

Alice blinked in befuddlement, then said carefully, "I think that you'll find my stitching is a bit rough."

"Doctor Harvey is a pathologist," Jean said, her smile fixed. Dorothy looked confused.  "She examines dead bodies. She and Lucien work together on police cases."  

Dorothy shrank back in her chair.  

Jean turned to Alice. "Do you have any trousers? Can't have you helping out in a skirt."

"Gosh, no," said Rose, crunching on a biscuit.  "Uncle Matthew is working us like navvies."

"Come along then," Jean said smartly.  "You can borrow a pair of mine."  

After the two women had left the kitchen, Evelyn mused, "I could never wear trousers.  They're not lady-like."

"What is means to be a lady keeps changing every day," Rose said cheerfully.  

Evelyn looked horrified at the prospect.

"That dress isn't going to sew itself," Dorothy said, struggling to her feet with the support of the table.

"Do you want to get out of that dirty work?" Evelyn said to Rose, "and help us with the dress?"

Danny snorted. Rose glared at him. She said, "That's alright. I'm even more useless than Alice with the womanly arts. I'll stick with being dumb, brute strength."  She flexed her arm and Danny laughed outright, but his gaze was admiring.  

"Well, those boxes aren't going to shift themselves," Lucien said, slapping his thighs and rising.

"Auntie Jean, where exactly should we shift those to?" Danny asked Jean as she reappeared with Alice, now in a pair of trousers, and self-consciously tugging at the waistband.  

"Goodness," Jean looked around. "We really should sort through those, but there's not time--"

"Just take them to Charlie's old room," Lucien suggested. Jean quickly looked to Rose, but she was just snagging the final biscuit off the plate.

"Hey, I'm sleeping there," Danny said, but the team was already moving to the studio.

"Ladies, back to our job," Celia said, tucking Benny on her hip.

By the end of the evening, Jean had had her first fitting.  The gown was inside out, so there was no real way to see how it would look, but she still turned to and fro, critical of the length.  "Perhaps a bit longer?"

"Skirt hems are moving up," Celia noted.

"Not on me," Jean said tartly.  "I think a tea length would be appropriate for an afternoon wedding."

"But is the skirt a bit...bell-shaped?" said Dorothy, giving it a frown.  

"You may be right."  Jean smoothed her hands down her flanks.  "Lucien does prefer a more fitted skirt for the backside, but I don't want to appear as though I'm going to a cocktail party."

Evelyn looked both confused and offended at the same time.  Celia cleared her throat, not sure if she should be put out either. Dorothy just seemed vague.

Taking her sketchpad, Jean made a few quick lines.  "We'll try some gathering tomorrow, and see if what looks best."

"It is getting late," Celia agreed, glancing at the clock.  Surely Ben would be passed out on the settee already.  

Everything was gathered up, and as they passed through, they found the moving crew had already given up and were scattered around the lounge with drinks.

After the exchange of parting, and Jean closed the front door on them, Celia felt as though they had been cast out into the darkness in more ways than the obvious.  

The next day, nursing his sore head, Ben thankfully said nothing more about the sewing circle and Celia slipped away, feeling light-hearted in a way that she hadn't since she would make excuses to meet her lover.  

Jean was in her dressing gown when they arrived, ready for her next fitting.  The moving crew had been turned into a painting crew and were already at it, their voices echoing in the studio.  It was Lucien's turn to shield his work from Jean and he closed the doors definitely in her face after a quick kiss.

The curtains were still closed, the screen up, and Jean dropped her dressing gown and held up her arms for the wedding dress to be slipped over her head by Evelyn and Celia while Dorothy waited with pins at the ready.  

But first Dorothy stared at Jean's undergarments and remarked, "So there's your blue then?"

Once remarked on, Celia noticed that Jean's foundation garment weren't her usual simple Woolworth bought, carefully darned until it wore out. It was a satin corset with blue ribbons threaded along the hems and small blue bows set down the front.  It was certainly purchased at one of the high-end shops, like so much of Jean's wardrobe these days.   

"Yes, I suppose it will," Jean said.  

The matter settled, Dorothy motioned for them to pull the dress on.   "Pleats?" Dorothy suggest, beginning to pinch up the full skirt.

Jean looked down.  "I think that'll make it look a bit too casual."  She flipped to a drawing in her sketchbook. "What do you think of this?  Just a pleat on each side.  To give shape and definition without looking fussy."

"Oh, that would be lovely," enthused Dorothy as she pinned the fabric.  "Really, you should do this professionally. Your gowns are always brilliant and so much more than the pattern."

Evelyn helped Jean out of the dress. "That is an idea.  Although I suppose you won't need to work anymore."  Her voice was a bit bitter.

"Lucien has said something about engaging a new housekeeper, but I've assured him that I'll simply go mad without something to do," Jean said with steely determination.  

Celia looked around.  "This large house will keep you busy. You'll have other obligations too, once you're married. As a doctor's wife, you won't have time for vacuuming."

Her words were weighty in the air and all the women were silent.   

"Before I forget," Dorothy said, raising her chin. She fumbled in her handbag.  "Here's my RSVP card.  To save on postage."

"Thank you," Jean said gently, taking the card.  "Let me pop that in with the others."

She slipped through the curtains, leaving them open a bit.  Celia watched her open a box on the sideboard and flip through the cards to place Dorothy's in the right spot.  Lucien passed through kitchen and spotted her.  His face lit up. 

"What's this about?  In your dressing gown already?"  He flicked the sash of her gown before his hand settled on her hip.  

"It's important to try on your dress with the undergarments that you will be wearing," she explained huffily.  "Assures a proper fit."  Her fingers traces his bare forearm but she didn't push away his hand.  

His voice lowered but Celia still caught what he said: "So you've got your pretty wedding undies on?"

Jean quickly glanced to the curtains so Celia lowered her head over her hand stitching.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them, feeling guilty, but unable to turn away.  Jean carefully held the top of her gown open for just a moment, but Lucien's grin widened.  

"Bloody hell, Jean. You're--"  Celia couldn't hear the rest as Lucien leaned in and spoke into Jean's ear.  But the way her cheeks flushed and she slewed her eyes at him, Celia knew the sort of thing that he must have said. Her throat tightened in anguish.

Turning quickly, Jean rejoined the others and closed the curtains.   

Determined to sort the matter, Evelyn said, "I'm sorry, Jean, but you realise that I can't come--"

Jean sounded exactly like a doctor's wife when she said, "I never imagined that you would," in the nicest possible tone.  Then turned to Dorothy and asked, "Will you need a car, Dorothy?  We'll be happy to send one for you."

x

When they came the next day, Dorothy asked to see the studio before they began.  

"Perhaps it's like the dress, and Jean shouldn't see it yet," Lucien said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.  

"Lucien!" Jean protested.

"I think that's a great idea," said Rose, obviously wanting to start trouble.  "And romantic."

"Fine."  Jean turned sharply on her heel, but she was smiling.

Celia wanted to see as much as the other ladies.  They passed through the double doors and into a large room that smelled strongly of paint and wood polish. There was a large fireplace, and high wainscoting paneling around room.  The wood was all dark, but the high walls had been painted a warm but bright color, like the best butter. A few rolled carpets were nestled by the massive bed draped in drop clothes.  

"Oh, look!" Dorothy exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling.  "It's gold!"

"My goodness," breathed Evelyn, "I didn't even notice that when I was here."  She gave Lucien an unfriendly look.  "It was so dark and crowded then."

"You're not going to paint that over?" Dorothy asked, leaning heavily on her crutches.

"That's still up for debate," Lucien said with a shake of his head.

"Do you have a cover for that large of a bed?" asked Rose, nonchalant.  "Or do I just have the idea of a wedding present?"

"You don't have your pressie yet?" Matthew said. "Wedding's only a week off."

"Speaking of which, we need to get to work," Evelyn said, herding the two woman before her to the dining room.

They were nearly finished but Jean just wasn't happy about the neckline.  "It's awfully...plain."  It was a scooped neck of a lace overlaid on the satin bodice.  "And this is plain," she grumbled, smoothing her hands down the high waist.

"Careful that you don't fix yourself right back into a new problem," warned Evelyn, peering over her glasses.

But Jean was already sketching.  "I've seen this open collar on a few dresses. Sort of a Revers style--"  She flipped through her magazines and stopped on a picture of Audrey Hepburn.  

"But on a wedding dress?" Celia asked, glancing at the glossy page. "That's just a blouse."

Jean folded the lace and held it up to the top of the dress, showing them how the collar would look.  "With pearl buttons like up the back, I think it would be dressed up."

Evelyn went through the bags.  "I think there's enough buttons."

"And the V-neck would mean that I could wear the wedding gift that Lucien gave me."

"What is that?" asked Evelyn, her nosiness coming out.

"Just a moment," Jean said.  They helped her out of the dress, and after pulling on her dressing gown, she slipped around the screen.  She returned with a dark blue velvet flat jewellery box.  Rose and Alice followed her, chatting.

"The boys are arguing about whether to paint the wainscoting or not.  We put in our vote, but got shouted over," Rose explained, "so we're leaving them to it."

"How're things going here?" Alice asked, looking around with a curious gaze.  

"We're just settling the final details," Dorothy explained.

Jean opened the box.  "It's pearls," she explained.  "He gave me black pearls when we were first engaged, but I think they'll be too dark with this color."

Evelyn and Celia exchanged raised eyebrowed looks.  

"Those aren't the pearls that his Auntie gave you," said Alice.  

"We decided to return those," Jean said carefully.  Then she smiled.  "And have a fresh start."  Holding up her hair, she asked Rose to put the necklace on her.  They measured where the lowest pearl settled on her breastbone, and went to change the neckline.  

After putting on the kettle, Alice brought in a tea tray.  Jean thanked her as she flipped through the magazines, looking for something to add to the waist.  

"Not a wide belt," vetoed Celia, leaning over from the dress from where she was pinning up the hem.  

At the increase of chatter, Benny woke from his nap and fussed.  He was now excited and interested by all the activity of the Blake house. Alice was standing by his travel cot and looked down at him with curiosity.  

"How're his gums?" asked Jean.  

"The doctor's ointment has helped a great deal," Celia said. "Could you take him, Alice?  I don't want to let go of this hem."  

Her face full of trepidation, Alice cautiously reached into the basket and picked up the boy.  She held him at arm's length under his armpits, his legs thrashing.

"Let me take him," said Jean, rescuing her friend.  

Her relief palatable, Alice said, "Yes, right," as she passed along Benny.  She tipped her head to Rose.  "We should get back to it. We're no use here but we can fight to protect that lovely paneling."

The two women escaped and the others bent to their tasks.  Jean had found a picture of Doris Day with a flat bow on the front of a gown, and decided that would be perfect to tie the lace overlay top of the gown to the skirt.  

At the end of the evening, they stood around Jean in the dress and surveyed their accomplishment.  A gown that was simple and elegant at the same time, with lovely details which spoke to Jean's taste and eye for style.  On the other side of the curtain, Lucien was playing the piano, some romantic tune that Celia recognised vaguely as a favorite of her parents.  Unconsciously, Jean was swaying to the music as she checked the way the dress moved.  Celia felt tears pricking at her eyes, and swallowed the lump in her throat.  

"I'll press it and steam out the wrinkles, but it's done," Jean said, satisfied.  She hugged and kissed each woman.  "I have something for you," she added, and ignoring their protests, presented them each with silver thimble, with the simple words thank you engraved on it.  They murmured their own thanks, feeling somehow shy.  

When they parted by Celia's automobile, Jean's goodbye to Evelyn sounded very final.  But she had all smiles for Dorothy, and a reminder that she'd ring up with the time for the ride to the wedding.  For Celia, she gave another kiss on the cheek and murmured, "Take care," with such sympathy that Celia had to turn away without a reply.  

x

Jean seemed truly surprised when she opened the door to Celia, but ushered her into the kitchen.  

"Let me put the kettle on," she said.

"I won't be long," Celia said, "Mrs Clayton is watching Benny."

"Alright," said Jean, sinking into a chair by Celia.

"I'd thought perhaps you don't have something borrowed yet."

"I hadn't thought much about it," Jean admitted.  "With everything else to be organised."

Celia pulled a jewellery box from her handbag. "If you'd like, may I offer my bracelet? It matches your necklace."

Jean opened the box and admired the pearl bracelet. "I remember when your Mum gave this to you before your own wedding. This is very thoughtful.  Thank you."

Next Celia removed the RSVP card and put it on the table, her fingers trembling.

Jean slowly turned it over and looked at the names.  Celica had crossed out Mr and left it as just Mrs Lloyd.

"You'll come alone?"

"Yes," Celia breathed.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jean said slowly.  

"You sent me an invitation," Celia said, stung.

"And I can see that was a mistake.  I'm sorry to have put you in that position."

"I want to come."

Jean put her strong fingers over Celia's white and clenched fists.  "I know. But marriage means not always having what you want. I can't be responsible for causing discord with Ben."

"I'll deal with Ben," Celia protested.

"There's no need. Truly."  Jean squeezed her shoulder. "This isn't the battle you need to fight with him.  There's much more important things to stand for."  Her smile was crooked as she held back tears.  "Someday you'll have that triumph, Celia, just not this Saturday." She lifted the bracelet. "But you'll be with me."

"And you'll be the most beautiful bride," Celia promised her.

She'd never seen Jean smile like she did at those words.  "I will, won't I?"  

~ end

[wildroseofarran]

A Brief Absence || Clarke & Mason

Mason: *Mason practically tackles his Clarke*

Clarke: -he happily falls over and becomes an octopus-

Mason: "Missed me?"

Clarke: "Yes!"

Mason: "So enthusiastically! What's wrong with you?"

Clarke: "I haven't seen you in ten billion years!"

Mason: "It's been two days. Ya need to be punished."

Clarke: "I know but it wasn't my fault. Blame my doctor."

Mason: "Your doctor?"

Clarke: "She refused to reschedule and she stole one of my moles."

Mason: "So ya couldn't have seen me after?" I would have taken care of you.

Clarke: "You weren't home."

Mason: "Ya have a key."

Clarke: "I used it. Guess you'd popped out for something."

Mason: "Stay next time."

Clarke: -kiss- "I will."

Mason: Yes, that's exactly what he wants. "I'm still going to punish ya."

Clarke: He nuzzles into Mason and kisses him some more. "What kinda punishment?"

Mason: "What can ya handle?"

Clarke: "The sore spot is on the back of my thigh so other than that I'm at one hundred percent. She took the one that looked like Maine."

Mason: "Aw, Maine's gone," he smirked. "I know what I'm going to do."

Clarke: "I knoooow. Mississippi's still there though." Smack in the middle of his back.

"Oh yeah?" More kisses. "What are you gonna do?"

Mason: "Mm." A lingering kiss trailed across his jaw to his ear. "Get on your stomach."

Clarke: Clarke turned over, mindful of the bandage on his leg. His stitches were already on their way to healing but they were still sore.

Mason: Which was why he was on his stomach and not his back. Mason disappeared and reappeared with a zip tie. With his wrists secured (not too tightly) he paused to admire.

Clarke: He loved that about Mason; he always made sure Clarke was comfortable.

He wiggled around, both to settle and to entice. "Like what you see?" he said with a grin.

Mason: "I love what I see."

Mason dropped to his knees to straddle Clarke's calves. This was on purpose. The purpose? To hold him down while he began to mercilessly tickle his ribs.

Clarke: The unintelligible squealing and giggling began almost immediately. His currently position hindered him a bit but there was a good amount of squirming as well. Had he full use of his limbs he'd be attempting to wiggle away.

Mason: "You've been a very bad boy. This is what happens to bad boys under my roof."

Clarke: Tears were already gathering at the corners of Clarke's eyes. "I'll be good, I'll be g--" Another fit of laughter cut him off.

Mason: "You'll be good? Who are ya talkin' to? That's not how ya address me." Now to attack his armpits.

Clarke: "Sir!" he laughed. His squirming got a second wind. "I'll be good, sir!"

Mason: "How many kisses are ya gonna to give me when I stop?"

Clarke: "All the kisses sir wants!"

Mason: The weight behind Clarke lifted. His host took a seat beside him, gently rolled him over onto his back.

"I want twenty kisses," he smiled.

Clarke: Clarke wiggled around to get comfortable, smiling up at Mason. "Then twenty kisses sir shall have."

Mason: "One every hour, and you can't leave for twenty. Deal?"

Clarke: He nodded. "Deal. Can I give you more than twenty?"

Mason: "You'll have t'ask nicely."

Clarke: "May I please give you more kisses, sir?" Just look how pretty I am.

Mason: So fucking pretty. He made himself comfortable, prone with his prize, pulled him into a kiss. "Fine. If ya insist."

Clarke: Clarke gave a content little purr, nuzzling against Mason and sinking into the kiss. Two days was entirely too long to go without this.

Mason: How are you so beautiful? he thought. I paid good money.

Nuzzling in return, he asked, "D'ya want me break your bonds?"

Clarke: "Yes, please," he said with a nod.

Mason: His knife was pulled from his back pocket. Mindful as he was of the human's wrists, even more attention was given once the zip tie was tossed away, kissing the thin red line his struggles had created.

Clarke: Knives still made him a little nervous, but Mason's affection quickly dissipated it. There was no need to be nervous when he could finally wrap himself around Mason again.

Mason: "There we are," he purred. "Back where ya belong."

Clarke: Clarke grinned and pulled Mason into another kiss. He wasn't about to say it, but he did love it when Mason was a little possessive.

Mason: Mason knew something else Clarke enjoyed. He began to growl into their kisses, something bordering on playful.

Clarke: Now that earned Mason a happy little purr in response, along with a tightening of Clarke's hold on him.

Mason: "That was my master plan. Now that I've tormented with tickles, I'm out of ideas." For today.

Clarke: "I propose kisses. Lots of lots of kisses."

Mason: "I'll give you a dollar per kiss."

Clarke: "A whole dollar? Lucky me." Mason was given three giant, noisy kisses.

Mason: "Three whole dollars. Look at ya, makin' smart investment deals," he grinned.

Clarke: "Smart and very--" Kiss. "--very--" Kiss. "--enjoyable."

Mason: Four, five. "I think I deserve some tongue. I'll give ya five more bucks if ya stick your tongue out n'let me suck it."

Clarke: Clarke grinned. "How could I ever refuse such an offer?" He stole one more kiss and stuck his tongue out.

Mason: Ah, yes. A reason to nibble and suckle and work Clarke for no reason other than the aesthetics.

Clarke: Clarke purred and hummed softly, pulling Mason in closer, running his fingers through his hair.

Mason: "Ya know," he kissed, "just how much I love spoilin' ya?" They both seemed obsessed with hair, for his employer was doing the same.

Clarke: That earned Mason more purrs and loving attention to his hair. "Mmm, how much?"

Mason: "What would happen if I bought ya for just me, no one else?"

Clarke: "There'd be a good handful of men in this town who'd be very annoyed at you."

Mason: "Let them. Of course they would be."

Clarke: "You really want me all to yourself?"

Mason: "Ya like that or hate that?"

Clarke: A slow smile spread across Clarke's face. "I like that."

Mason: His face began to brighten. "Ya gonna be mine?"

Clarke: Just look at that face. It was gorgeous and he was making it light up.

He pulled Mason in for another kiss. "All yours."

Mason: Something that was his own. Not a new concept, but it pleased him. "How much more ya want a week?" he asked, giving another tiny kiss.

Clarke: Have a nuzzle in return for that kiss. "How much can you afford? Don't want to make things tight for you."

Mason: "Write down your usual expenses and payment t'night, n'I'll make your budget." His smile widened, very much a smirk. "I'll know if you're lyin'."

Clarke: Clarke nodded. "Okay." A good portion of them were already taken care of and the rest weren't too bad.

He chuckled and nuzzled Mason again. "I never lie about money. It's against my nature."

Mason: "Ya were honest day one, then again I was testin' your maths." His fingertip drew the outline of Clarke's jaw and chin. "Ya need t'chase strange, say so."

Clarke: "I'm very good at math," he said with a grin. "Have to be to count all my money."

Clarke smiled softly. "No need for that when I have you."

Mason: "Mm. Don't go fallin' in love with me, now."

Clarke: "I promised I wouldn't." Even so, he was. Just a little.

He snuggled in closer. "You are more than enough to satisfy me. You put all my other clients to shame."

Mason: "None of your other clients pay n'demand the way I do. I damn well better be the best."

Clarke: "You are," Clarke chuckled, unable to resist kissing that gorgeous face. "The very best."

Mason: "So, it's a deal, then?" He kissed Clarke's forehead, his cheek, the side of his mouth, slipped his tongue between his lips, waited for a reaction. "Tell em all goodbye."

Clarke: He nodded and hummed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Mason's neck and deepening the kiss.

"It's a deal," he whispered.

Mason: "Goddamn right." He could feel Clarke's affection, and reminding him not to do it was his way of feeling no shame, no guilt whatsoever in the way he cared for him.

Clarke: Clarke smiled against Mason's lips. Just as reminding him was Mason's way of feeling no shame or guilt, keeping it to himself was Clarke's way of feeling no guilt or shame.

"My client list should be cleared in a couple days."

Mason: "N'then I whisk ya away t'someplace nice n'spoil ya so ya never itch for strange, n'pine for me when it's over."

Clarke: "Mmmmm, I like that plan. I like it so much I might even spend the whole time naked."

Mason: "Mm, n'there's my vacation right there. I think I'll get ya a big ribbon t'tie 'round ya."

Clarke: He grinned. "A pink one?"

Mason: "You? In pink? Ha!"

Clarke: "I look good in pink!" he laughed.

Mason: "Ya look good in white, too."

Clarke: "I do. Especially white lace."

Mason:  "Mm. That I know. Want to see ya in it again. Tonight."

Clarke: "Then you're in luck. There's some in my wardrobe. Some satin too."

Mason: "I think we need to head upstairs, don't ya?"

Clarke: "I rather think we do."

Mason: Excellent. There was a little surprised for Clarke in his bedroom anyways. A brand new Polaroid camera sitting on his bedside table.

Clarke: Clarke led Mason upstairs by the hand, only letting go when he happened upon his surprise.

"Well now, what is this?" he asked, smiling as he picked up the camera.

Mason: The demon was smiling again, calm, but filled with anticipation. "Call it a birthday gift if ya want. I just want photographic evidence of your lace undergarments."

Clarke: For that Mason deserved another kiss. "I love it. Let me go change so you have something to photograph."