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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months ago

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God, That's Good!

Chapter 5: Pentious' Miracle Elixir

A few weeks after Lucifer's arrival, Husk is witness to a couple spectacles at the market.

Tags: Sera is Still the Worst™️, Huskerdust Beginnings, Niffty Shenanigans

THINGS ARE PICKING UP IN THE NEXT CHAPTER RADIOAPPLE FRIENDS 📻🍎 here is a secret lil apology to Sir Pentious (I'm sorry, I love you, but the plot must plot) and here is my weekly thank you and handover of my heart and soul to @fraugwinska ily 💕

Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6 🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9

As soon as he saw the little kid running around and setting up a makeshift stage, Husk knew he was going to end up with a headache today, one way or another. It had been a few weeks now since that Morningstar character had come into the picture, and from behind the bar, opposite the wall to Alastor’s living quarters, he could hear the pair of them chatting all hours of the day. It was basically up to Husk these days to run the show since they didn’t have any ‘meat’ for the pies lately, not with Alastor so wrapped up in his new passion project that he didn’t have any spare time to scout for targets. The news was lamenting the fact that the Bayou Butcher seemed to be on vacation- great for the people he wasn’t killing, but bad for ratings.

He heard the story Alastor gave the man- that he valued ‘quality’ over quantity and waited until he had enough revenue from the bar to get decent meat rather than using whatever roadkill he could find like some others did. He didn’t tell him the truth, of course; only Husk was privy to the information about the real source of the filling of Lovett’s pies. He knew already, somehow, that this Lucifer was going to get sucked into it like he himself had.

Alastor wasn’t the kind of guy to get involved with if a person could avoid it, even before his extracurricular activities. He was too perceptive, too intuitive, too fucking good at getting people to trust him and then stabbing them in the back- whether that was literal or figurative. He didn’t know what the angle was that he was working with Lucifer, but it couldn’t be good if Alastor wasn’t even hunting because of it. If Alastor was interested then the guy was fucked.

And sure, Husk wanted to do the decent thing and warn him. He had tried to steer him right, steer him away, the first time he stepped into the shop; he had seen him outside looking at the place upstairs, abandoned for God knows how long, and knew, somehow, that Alastor would sink his claws in. His employer was borderline obsessed with the apartment above the pie shop, constantly going up there for no reason, checking the locks, making sure people stayed away, refusing to rent it out to the few people that did ask about it despite the stories that surrounded it.

But Benjamin Husker was no fool- not when it came to Alastor Lovett, not anymore. He had made that mistake one time, and once was all it took.

They met at his speakeasy when it was still open- the height of Prohibition, he had a real popular one just outside of New Orleans, and Alastor had been a regular when he acted as the bartender. He went by Jack, keeping his real name off the record for both his business and his more pleasurable ventures, the weekly gambling parties he held in his back room where Lady Luck was his steadfast companion in keeping his wallet lined with bills and his establishment with flowing alcohol. Those with lesser luck were no fan of his, but he kept out of the public, kept his cheating on the low, and never let anyone close enough to betray him- before Lovett. They were friends, he and Alastor; good enough friends that when his place was raided, police pouring through every opening the building had and hunting down the bartender specifically, he had fled to Alastor’s newly acquired shop on the other side of town. He had expected support, sympathy, the normal things that one expects from a friend when their life had gone to shit.

Alastor had given him that shit eating grin and said, “why, they acted on that tip faster than I expected!”

He hadn’t so much as pulled his fist back before Alastor had revealed the dirt he had on him- “wouldn’t those you’ve bankrupted just love to know the real name of the man that’s been emptying their pockets?” - and he was backed into a corner. He was roped into helping Alastor with disposal of his hunting prizes, and while the Prohibition laws were now taken out of effect there were still members of the law trying to retroactively imprison those that had been operating the speakeasies; so Alastor still kept him under thumb by threatening to go to the authorities.

He wasn’t getting involved anymore. Whatever Alastor had planned for the poor guy, it wasn’t any of Husk’s business. He was only looking out for himself these days- caring about people, trusting them, it only led to getting fucked over in the end.

The kid he had noticed in the market had finished setting up their stage and now stood atop it, a drum that was far too big for them held against their body as they beat on it. “Ladies and gentlemen!” They called across the crowd, high pitched and feminine, waving their arms around to catch people’s attention. Looking closer, Husk realized it was a girl under the hat they wore, wispy blonde bits poking haphazardly from under it. “If I can have your attention! I am here to tell you about something absolutely stupid!”

A hush falls across the crowd and some laughter breaks out. From the curtain behind the girl, Husk hears a hissed, “stupendous! It’s stupendous, not stupid!”

She giggles. “Oh, right! Something stupendous! Do you, sir, have trouble growing hair?” She sticks her finger directly in the face of an older gentleman with a full beard, salt and pepper at the temples and seeming to have grown just fine. He raises an eyebrow at her and Husk stifles a chuckle- there’s a muffled sound behind the curtain, like someone smacking their palm to their face in frustration and another hissed whisper. “Ohhhh, the bald ones. You got it, sir!” She turns in place, finger still pointing out and redirecting to someone that might fit what she seemed to be looking for. “Do you have trouble growing hair?”

The man- properly bald this time, apparently- shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess,” he tells her, and she bangs on the drum harder, more eyes turning her direction.

“Excellent news! I have something wonderful for you then!” A basket is pushed from behind the curtain, overflowing with bottles of which she grabs one, holding it high above her head to show the crowd. “Introducing to you, New Orleans, Pentious’ Miracle Elixir! Hair falling out? Hair doesn’t grow at all? Take me for example- I was just as bald and ugly as that guy until I came across the illustrative-”

“Illustrious!”

“Oh, sorry! The illustrious barber and miracle worker, Sir Edward Pentious! He gave me this elixir less than thirty days ago and now look at me-” She reaches up to whip off her hat and tugs a little too hard. The hat sticks to the blonde hair beneath it, tugging back far enough that it starts to slip from her forehead- a wig, poorly applied, with luscious blonde curls falls to the floor before the girl can scoop it back up and tug it sloppily onto her head again, bits of a bright ginger sticking out from under it. “It’s grown back better than ever!”

The crowd laughs, likely thinking it was more of a comedy act than anything else, and Husk prepares to leave when he senses a presence at his side. “Whaddya think? Gonna get some of that miraculous elixir?”

Husk has seen this particular prostitute before, and has sent him off more than once- he always gets right into the innuendo and offers, so the teasing question is unexpected and maybe not entirely unwelcome. He’s taller than Husk by a good bit, lean muscles that fill out his buttoned shirt and too-short shorts well and fluffy blonde hair that hangs over his eyes. He’s looking away from Husk now, gaze trained on the girl on the stage, but it’s obvious that he’s chosen Husk as his potential mark.

Again.

The sleazy fucker that runs the brothel in town is watching the pair of them closely, thin arms folded across his chest and waiting for the young man to make a move like he does every week when Husk makes his way to the market for some bullshit or another. It’s the first time the man’s greeted him with a question about what was happening around them rather than a statement about what he could do for the right price- Husk doesn’t even know his name yet.

In answer to his question, Husk scoffs. “Fuck no,” he says, and the corner of the man’s face that he can see quirks up. “At best it’s river water with some food coloring in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s worse,” he adds, as a man steps out from behind the curtain of the stage. He’s pulled the young girl back from the edge, hissing under his breath at her to stop handing the bottles out without payment and fix her wig correctly, that she was embarrassing him.

“Ya’d think if she was doin’ such a bad job he would do the advertisin’ himself,” the young man says, gesturing to the long, black hair that flows down the salesman’s back, sleek and shiny and definitely not a product of the green stuff in his bottles. “I guess people are a little easier with their ‘fuck off’ sentiments when it’s a kid.” His eyebrow creases, eyes dark as he watches the man grab the girl’s upper arm and pull her out of the way to address the crowd himself- she stands to the side of the stage wiping at her eyes, loading her arms up with the bottles again. Husk notices, at the front of the crowd, is Alastor; Lucifer stands just to the side of him, some combative expression on his face as the man speaks.

“Well, whether my ‘fuck off’ is gentle or not, I know when I’m being sold to- whether it’s some bullshit medicinal crap or a warm body.” Husk says, and irritation flashes across the young man’s face when he turns to him. Even if he was still turning him down, this was a lot more interesting than the simpering whore act he usually put on, and for once Husk thinks there might be more to him than is being marketed. “Take your goods elsewhere.”

And wow, Husk might be sick of the propositioning but he would never get tired of those eyes. That Valentino always brought the same kind of guys and gals on board for his whore house, short and skinny as a twig with tits or an ass to round them out; this one was different. His eyes, for one, were different shades, a brown and a green that complimented the shade of his hair; a tiny gap between his two front teeth that made his smile seem genuine even when he was leering; and he was tall, unlike what the pimp usually favored.

“My goods, huh? Usually it’s ‘getcha ass outta here’ when you’re turnin’ me down. Aww, are ya warmin’ up to me?” He slides an arm around Husk’s shoulders, leaning his non-existent weight on the bartender, and bends to whisper in his ear. “I could return the favor, ya know- warm you up instead. Whaddya think?”

Husk sighs, but doesn’t forcibly remove his arm like he normally would, instead turning to meet his eyes properly. “Look, I know your boss keeps sending you over here when I’m out because I look like an easy mark or whatever but I’m not interested in paying for sex- especially not from someone that could be doing better things with his time than being a hooker.”

His face twitches and he laughs. “Val does say you look nice and repressed,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder where the pimp has been distracted by another one of his wards. “But he actually told me if I couldn’t get ya in the sack today that I had to stop tryin.’ Guess it’s been nice gettin’ to know ya, even if I do think we would have a lot ‘a fun together.” He winks his brown eye, and the smile he gives Husk is soft and genuine. “Ya ever change your mind, stop by the house and ask for Angel.”

It startles a laugh out of Husk. “No way that’s your real name.”

“Might as well be- sounds better for business than ‘Anthony’ anyway.” He shrugs and turns back to the house where Valentino stands outside with an unkind smile on his face, crooking his finger like a ‘come hither’ at the young man. “See ya around.”

“You ever find yourself on Fleet Street,” Husk says before he can really think about the words, “come into Lovett’s Pies. Can’t recommend the main dish but I can hook you up at the bar. Ask for Husk if I’m not around.”

Angel- Anthony- chuckles. “Is that your real name?”

“Stop by and find out,” he replies with a grin, and when he laughs and heads back to the whore house Husk doesn’t miss the nasty glare that Valentino is shooting his way before he swings it to Angel.

His distraction gone, Husk turns his attention back to the stage- Lucifer and Alastor are on it now, off to one side with a random townsperson in the chair with a face full of lather as they watch Pentious flick shaving soap onto the crowd as he wildly gestures and waves his hands above the person that sits in the chair before him. Lucifer looks almost offended by the display, eyes narrowed and his mouth half open in shock; Alastor, as usual, wears a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and seems to be more focused on Lucifer than the raving madman beside them. He stops waving his arms and holds his hand out to the girl- she’s not paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere until he snaps, “Niffty! My razor!” He closes his eyes and holds his hand out.

She startles, reaching into the pocket of the jacket she wears and pulling something out that she slaps into his hands- he immediately brings it to the face of the man in his chair, only noticing when the crowd begins to laugh that she’s handed him a drumstick and not one of his razors that she’s opened for him. She apologizes with a giggle, diving back into the jacket and bringing out a folded razor that she opens carefully. He takes it, more hand waving and gesturing before he actually brings the blade to the man’s face and starts shaving him in short, sloppy strokes. There’s shaving soap everywhere, streaks on the poor man’s face that have been missed, stubble peeking through where the blade wasn’t angled correctly.

A murmur ripples across the crowd as Lucifer opens his blade, finally tuning the flamboyant man out- and Husk sees the glint in Alastor’s eyes as the razor catches the light before Lucifer brings it down to swipe in swift, smooth strokes across his impromptu customer’s face. Excited cries fill the air, and even Husk is impressed with the dexterity and skill of the shave. Pentious doesn’t seem to realize what had happened yet, still jerkily shaving away until Niffty tugs at his coat and he drops his razor to the ground in sheer shock.

“Beadle Dempsey, if you would,” Alastor says, snakeoil grin in place as he steps aside so the Church official can come forward and place a delicate hand to the faces of both men.

“Mister Morningstar is the clear winner,” she says, wiping her hand off on the coat of the man that still had shaving soap on his face. To Pentious, she gives him a stern look. “Swindlers are not taken kindly to in this area, sir. I think it would be for the best if you move along elsewhere.” And like that she has dismissed him, turning back to Lucifer with a raised eyebrow. Pentious mutters something under his breath to the girl and her face falls.

Husk creeps closer, not needing to hear the salesman berate the young girl for her failed performance but ready to step in if needed. She’s perked up by the time he’s close enough to hear though- “this area was a bust, but maybe if we go the next town over I can practice my lines!”

“Niffty dear, I’m not sure your idea is accomplishing much more than giving me a reputation as a grifter. Perhaps we dispose of the bottles and go back to the demonstrative shaves!”

She tilts her head at him in question. “But you’re not any good at shaving, we have to give people a reason to come to you! Let’s brainstorm…”

The pair wander off behind the curtain, leaving Husk to wonder who the brains between the two of them was and allowing him to catch the end of the conversation between the Beadle and his own employer and guest.

“I think Judge Cain would be pleased to be attended to by such a fine barber,” she was saying, “but of course I shall have to come see the establishment myself first- as a man of both the law and the Church it’s important that he not be exposed to an unseemly environments. No disrespect to either of you,” she adds with a tone that drips insincerity, “but you must agree that Fleet Street is in the less desirable part of town. So many nasty rumors, and such colorful, dreadful history.” She looks Lucifer and Alastor up and down, the way they stand closely together, the clench of Lucifer's fist. “I suppose I’ll try to stop for an inspection of sorts in the next week or so. In the meantime- Emilia, Charlotte, come along.” She snaps her fingers like she’s summoning dogs, and two young women part the crowd to stand beside her.

The taller of the two, blonde haired and blue eyed, waves to Lucifer, and he looks as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He straightens up immediately- which still only put him at about Alastor’s shoulder- and looks Beadle Dempsey straight in the eyes; a feat many men in New Orleans struggled with even when they weren’t significantly shorter than her.

“I can assure you, ma’am,” Lucifer says clearly, “that both you and the esteemed Judge are welcome in my parlor anytime. I’ll be sure to make it extra welcoming, just for you.” He smiles and it doesn’t meet his eyes, and Husk feels unease run down his spine, like he’s looking at something that shouldn’t be witnessed. He thinks he understands now, Alastor’s unspoken obsession with the man- there was more to him than met the eye, something dark that lurked beneath the facade he put up. Something dangerous and raw- and from the way that he was looking at Lucifer, it looked like Alastor fully intended to bring that darkness clawing to the surface.

Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6 🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9

just poppin in here with the AO3 link just in case ❤️https://archiveofourown.org/works/57993799/chapters/147639037

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer hazbin #radioapple #human lucifer morningstar #human alastor #sweeney todd #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ily frau <3 #God That's Good #GTG #huskerdust #human Husk #human angel dust #human valentino #just as gross as regular valentino #my stuff <3

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baronessblixen · 1 year ago

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Prompt: 28. "I may not get another chance to say this."

Sequel to "The Truth Is (Not) Found In A Glass of Whiskey": It's the morning after and Skinner wakes up with a hangover - and remembers way too much from the previous night. (wc: 1,409)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 29: Glass Half Full

When Skinner first wakes, he thinks he’s lost at sea. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, most of what happened yesterday doesn’t. He opens his eyes with difficulty and is hit with a wave of nausea.

“Fuck,” he groans, willing his stomach to behave. In his many years on this planet, he’s gotten drunk several times. Too many to count. This hangover, he’s convinced, is the worst yet. And where the hell is he? His head spinning, he tries to find something that looks familiar. This is neither a boat nor his own apartment. Then it hits him when he sees a book called Bigfoot is Real: The Truth About Your Favorite Cryptid on the nightstand. He’s at Mulder’s place. That may or may not explain the waterbed under him, too.

Skinner sits up slowly, feeling dizzy. He squints his eyes at his watch, seeing that it’s just after 6 a.m. Good to know that his body still knows when to get up, even after he’s tried to kill all his brain cells with expensive whiskey. He hasn’t thrown himself a pity party in so long; probably not since his wife left him. He was due. But, he realizes, as he stumbles to the adjoining room where he hopes Mulder’s bathroom is, he should keep it to the weekends.

As he relieves himself, staring at the tiles in the bathroom, he wonders what Mulder would say if he showered here. Does he have enough time to drive home and take a shower? Is he even sober enough to drive? There's just a slight problem: Mulder and Scully brought him here last night. He doesn’t have his car. Of course, he doesn’t. He can’t imagine driving to work with his two troublesome agents. Especially after last night. He doesn’t remember everything – and he’s thankful for that. But he remembers enough to feel heat creep into his cheeks.

The apartment is quiet as he steps out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, at a loss for what he should do. He finds his pants and is relieved to realize that he must have taken them off himself. He doubts Mulder or Scully would have haphazardly thrown them about. He never did take off his dress shirt but some buttons have come undone and it’s wrinkled. Fuck. He either has to ask Mulder for a spare one or drive home.

He decides to venture further and see what his agents are about. He knows he should be thankful. They could have just left him at the office and who knows what would have happened. He’s sure he would have finished his whiskey bottle that Mulder took from him. Who is to say he wouldn’t have wanted more? Mulder may have saved him from doing something incredibly dumb and potentially dangerous. Well, he was probably due for a favor anyway, considering he keeps saving their asses.

No one bothered to shut the curtains, so there’s light peeking in through the blinds, making it easy for Skinner to find Mulder and Scully on the couch. At first, he thinks they’re watching him and he freezes. But that’s not the case at all. They’re upright but fast asleep. Mulder has his legs outstretched and his head tilted toward Scully, who’s leaning against him, a hand on his stomach and drooling on his shirt. Not a couple my ass, he thinks.

He wants to wake them and yell at them that he’s known all along. Then again, he’s pretty sure he already did that last night. He watches them, confronting his own feelings. The reason why he got drunk in the first place. He wonders if they even know how lucky they are to have found each other. All he does is search and hope. Only to have his heart crushed again and again. He’s not sure he can keep looking for love.

How many times can a heart be broken? At what point will he be unable to put the pieces back together? He’s forever bruised. But the longer he watches, the more he understands that he wants what they have. He’s never seen two people so in love. Who are friends, partners, and equals in everything they do.

He tears his eyes away; he’s creeped them out enough last night. He tiptoes into the kitchen, looking for a glass so he can drink some water. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels too big. He down one glass of ice-cold water, then another, feeling more sober by the second.

“Do you want coffee?” Skinner almost chokes, setting down the glass, and staring at Mulder with bleary eyes.

“You were asleep,” he says.

“Heard you walk around.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not a good sleeper anyway. Unlike Scully. She can sleep through everything.” He’s smiling as he says this, starting the coffee machine. “How are you feeling this morning, sir?”

“As well as can be expected after a night of heavy drinking,” he admits. “Mulder, I may not get another chance to say this, but I’m grateful for what you and Scully did for me. I was in a bad place last night. Thank you.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you get another chance to say this?”

“I doubt I’ll make it to work on time,” he says. “I have a meeting with Kersh early this morning. Can you imagine what he’ll do when he sees me like this?”

“Go take a shower. I’m sure we’ll find something for you to wear. Scully is resourceful. Hell, she might put some makeup on you to make you look radiant.” He grins. “You may not remember last night, but I meant it when I said we’re your friends. We’ve all been there.”

“I was right about you two,” Skinner says.

“Sir?”

“You’re dating. You know that HR-”

“We’re not dating,” Mulder says.

“I may be hungover from last night, Mulder, but I do have eyes. I really am happy for you two. I know I said some things last night, but… I really am. It’s good to know you’re out there together, keeping an eye on each other. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I promise you that.”

“We’re really not-”

“Mulder, it’s okay.” He sighs, sounding frustrated. The length these two will go to deny their feelings for each other astounds him. “And now I really got to get ready if I want to keep my job and with the way my life is going, I’d really rather not add unemployment to the list.”

Mulder nods. “Go take a shower and I’ll wake Scully. She’ll know what to do.”

“I have no doubts.” He finds himself smiling.

Back in the bathroom, Skinner can’t find any towels, cursing under his breath. He returns to the living room, intending to ask Mulder where to find any, when he sees him crouching in front of the couch, one hand cupping Scully’s cheek and the other one on her hip.

“Time to wake up,” he whispers softly, a genuine smile on his face. Skinner knows he’s peeping on an intimate moment and should turn away, but he’s mesmerized by what he’s witnessing.

“Is it morning already?” Scully mumbles and Skinner is surprised to find that between his two agents, Scully is the one who’s grouchy in the morning.

“It is,” Mulder replies, his voice still gentle, and his hands still on Scully. “And we need to get Skinner ready for work.” Why does he make it sound like he’s their toddler and not their boss? “I need your brain for that.”

“Hmm, do you really?”

“I do,” Mulder says, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose. And to think that five minutes ago he was denying they’re dating. “No one is as smart and as brilliant as you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mulder.”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

Skinner chooses that moment to retreat and give them this moment. He’ll find a towel in Mulder’s bathroom or he won’t. He, too, can be resourceful. Unlike last night, he feels hope sprout in his chest. Who knew he was still capable of that? And he has to thank Mulder and Scully. Or maybe he won’t. He can keep that little tidbit to himself.

He steps under the warm water, closing his eyes, and finds himself whistling. There will be better days. And who knows, maybe he'll find love again, too.

#fictober23 #people have asked for a sequel #so that's what i did #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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darthfrodophantom · 1 year ago

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Heeeey, Darth!! Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💚

Hi Summers! What a great idea! I love this!

Here are the five favorite fics I've written, in no particular order (but maybe a bit of an order):

A Secret Uncovered Summary: When Danny's transformation is caught on tape, Danny has a whole new battle to face, including a press conference, Valerie, and, of course, school. But who is the mysterious ghost who set him up? And how much can he possibly mess up his life? Reason: This has always been my favorite of the pieces I've written. I poured so much love and work into this piece over (many) years. I'm so proud of it. I set out to tell a story of what it would be like if everyone knows (before Everybody Knows AUs became a thing and even before Reality Trip haha) and used it as a vehicle to show so many different reactions. I've had so much fun working on this. (And there may be a cross-post to AO3 very soon!)

Tortured Truth Summary: Danny's parents discover that the ghost boy is half human. Now that they've captured Danny, will he submit to torture and reveal himself, or is the revelation just the beginning of their problems? Reason: I'm starting with my old ones here! This is actually the first fic I ever shared with anyone, and it's also the first fic I've ever finished. While the torture is tame compared to today's standards, I feel like it has a great emotional payout and I enjoyed taking a micro-examination of the family unit's reactions and using Danny's illness as a way to force everyone to confront his powers.

The Red Vengeance Project Summary: With cameras strapped to their foreheads, Paulina and Star venture into the woods to bait the ghostly urban legend to appear in the hopes that Phantom will come save them. It seemed like a good plan in the light of day, but they get more than they ask for in the dark, claustrophobic, and dangerous woods. Reason: This was one of the first DP fics I'd written in a long time. It'd taken a break and just come back to the phandom to write this and another fic for Ectoberhaunt and I loved it. It brought me back to why I loved writing for this phandom in the first place. I picked this one over my actual first fic since coming back because I enjoyed writing this one more. I loved playing around with the different POV and I felt like it resulted in a really cool effect.

Micro-Unmasking Summary: Great timing prevented Danny’s secret from being revealed to Dash during their shared experience with the Fenton Crammer. But what would happen if his timing had been just a little off and Dash saw more than Danny wanted? Reason: This one's had a special place in my heart for awhile. I started it in 2009 and finally finished it in 2022! It was also just a fun topic that I enjoyed reading. I felt like I got to be a little witty in this one and I just really enjoyed writing it.

Prove That You Deserve the Answer Summary: After an argument with Jazz leaves Maddie feeling insecure about her role as a mother, she wishes she could understand her children better. She soon learns the dangers of making wishes around ghosts when she switches places with Jazz. But when this body swap allows her the opportunity to really talk with Danny, she realizes that maybe she can use this to finally see what's really going on with her son, and maybe find some way to fix their relationship in the process. Reason: I am so proud of this one. I sought out to finish a longer fic and I actually did it! I really pushed myself on this one, and I feel like it really paid off. I feel like the internal thoughts and monologues were so fun to explore and I loved writing from Maddie's POV.

And there are my five! This was a fun dive into my past works and really took some thought as to why they became some of my favorites.

Because this is a great idea, I'm gonna do some tagging! Maybe we can come up with a great list of reading recommendations from it by the end! I'm going to tag: @summerssixecho (you're not escaping your own idea lol), @underforeversgrace, @murphy-kitt, @nickelodeonstudios, and @lexosaurus

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #my fic writing #fic recommendation #self promotion #what a great idea

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wildlife4life · 1 year ago

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Fuck-it Friday

It is just past midnight where I reside, so that means its officially Friday. Normally I don't post till the sun is shining, but I am traveling today and visiting with family, so I won't have access to computer time till much much later.

Tagged by the always lovely @panbuckley, who posted a very steamy snippet. So I am going to continue this trend myself, or try to at least. Here is some very vague smut from NFL Buck.

Eddie is on the precipice of tipping over into orgasmic bliss, but a tight grip at the base of his cock, snaps him back. He cries out, "Buck please." Behind him with his own cock deep in Eddie's ass and lounging back on the dark blue sofa, Buck chuckles. Eddie feels the vibration of his delight more than he can hear it. "You didn't answer me." The younger man states. The hand not withholding Eddie's pleasure, hits the rewind button on a small black remote. The projected film in front of them reverses, pulling the figures of the players of the Chicago Bears and the Minnesota Vikings back to their pre-snap formations. "Two high safeties, 5 man rush, what should I call?" Buck repeats his earlier question with a swivel of his hips, grinding up against's Eddie's prostate. A whimper is pulled from him and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the stimulating euphoria mixed with the pain of being held at the edge. The warm plastic of the remote is dropped on his thigh and Eddie can't hold down a moan of appreciation as Buck grips his hair, yanking his head back. "I told you to keep your eyes open. Don't want to miss anything, now do we?" He growls in his ear, nipping at the cartilage. Fuck. Having his eyes on the footage of the Chicago Bears was the whole reason Eddie joined Buck in the first place. He liked to help his boyfriend with his studies, give advice, and his own opinion on what the defense is doing and how Evan should respond. The reward for doing so, usually came after pages of a notebook had been filled and several hours of film had been watched. But the first game of the Ram's season with their new shiny quarterback was just days away and Buck was a ball of nervous energy. Working out did little to take the edge off. Video games with Christopher (and losing horribly) just added to the problem. Not even a pep talk from his personal trainer Owen Strand could help. So Buck turned to film hoping that being over prepared would ease his mind just a little. Eddie ventured into the screening room wanting to give him some relief and Evan immediately showed him how he could. A sloppy blowjob lead to Eddie's first orgasm. A seat in Buck's lap, his chest pressed tight against Eddie's back, and stretched tight around Buck's cock, has Eddie on the edge of another. He just needed to focus. Give Buck a play to beat the scheme. He needed to open his eyes and see past his pleasure. Just for a moment and then Eddie can finally fall into the inferno, with Buck just behind him. The sharp trill of Eddie's phone breaks his focus and has his eyes opening for all the wrong reasons.

Never really written man on man smut before, so I hope I'm doing something sort of right? Idk. I just wanted to put the fuck in fuck-it friday lol. But this is a scene I've had in my notes for awhile for this fic. Hope you all enjoyed!

If you want to see more NFL Buck just search under the tag nfl on my page.

Tagging (no pressure): @prince-buck-diaz @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @bekkachaos @911onabc @911-on-abc @alyxmastershipper @brokenribsdiaz @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @lizzybizzyzzz @glorious-spoon @oliverstaark @cowboy-buck @starlingbite @housewifebuck @devirnis @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @forthewolves @transbuck @wikiangela @rogerzsteven @bigfootsmom @try-set-me-on-fire @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @heartbeatdiaz @barbiediaz @princessfbi

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lunarsands · 1 year ago

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ESMP S1 Fanfic - A Garden's Path - Ch 1

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the rest of the cast of Empires SMP S1, featuring blaze-hybrid emperor TangoTek, and introducing: The Children of Mythland (specific characters to be tagged when they appear in each chapter)

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Smallishbeans, Shubble/Katherine Elizabeth, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, fluff, wholesome, so much wholesome fluff you would not believe, a bit of angst here and there, Sausage has a few nightmares for Plot reasons, acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

WARNINGS: fantasy racism (human v elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Scott set out to Rivendell to start visiting orphanages, hoping to find a child who won't mind their differences. It ends up not being Sausage's prosthetic arm that is off putting, and yet it turns out they don't even have to worry about traveling elsewhere when they meet two young boys who are not only simply curious, but also a perfect match when it comes to compassion and magic.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ]

---

Chapter One – The First Princes

Dressed in plain travel clothes and with an overnight bag on hand in case they needed to stay in Rivendell for any extra time, Scott and Sausage stepped up into the simple carriage devoid of any official heraldry that waited in the stable yard. They settled in across from each other as the carriage began to move, and for about the tenth time that morning Sausage adjusted the partial shirt sleeve over the top end of his prosthetic, trying to get it to lay just right.

“Nervous?” Scott asked.

“A little. I hope this thing doesn’t scare too many of them.”

“It’s your arm, plain and simple. Just think of it that way.”

“Maybe I should have asked fWhip for a full sleeve cover or at least a glove.”

“I remember him saying things like that could get caught in the struts or the gears when you move.”

“Well, I could just hold it still in that case.”

“What if one of the children wants a hug? You would need to move it then.” Scott smiled, knowing the magic word.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that is true.”

“So nervous, you forgot about things like that. It will be all right, Sausage. This is you now. Just be yourself. There doesn’t have to be any final decisions today, either. We have time.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He stopped fussing with the sleeve and gazed out the window for a while instead. When they passed the final border into Rivendell territory he began to absently rub at his right shoulder. He was still at it when the carriage stopped. Scott gently pulled his hand away and gave him a reassuring smile before exiting onto the dirt road.

A large cottage with a moss-dotted roof and matching extension to the right side sat in a slightly overgrown grassy field. Further down the road the rest of the village was visible, but the area certainly gave the orphanage a spacious feeling. Sausage tugged at his cloak as he followed Scott to the door where they were greeted by two elven women who spoke warmly in Elvish at first – Scott translated that they were grateful the couple had safely arrived and that they were welcome to come inside and walk around.

As they entered, one of the women did a doubletake upon seeing Sausage’s right arm but she only offered a sympathetic smile afterward. Relieved to have passed that much judgement, they continued further into the building where a large classroom was set up. Most of the space was clear of furniture so the younger children could play with toys on the floor while some of the older ones were seated at desks by the far wall with books or actual classwork. Scott remained near the door, chatting away in Elvish, while Sausage ventured into the room, making sure not to startle any of the children with his approach.

He smiled when some of the little ones looked up at him, giving a small wave with his left hand, then stepped closer to start offering comments on their toys. However, a few of the older children suddenly came over and pulled the smaller ones away while giving wary looks – but it was the side of his head they were looking at, not his arm.

Sausage brought his left hand up to trace the outside curve of his ear, realizing that him being a human was more of a concern than the appearance of his arm. He lowered his hand and turned toward the blackboard, pretending to study the words written there as if what had just happened hadn’t bothered him. He recognized a few of the letters and knew the sounds that went with them from what Scott had begun to teach him. Just to take his mind off the less-than-welcoming reception, he muttered a few out loud. “Lah-ela-ha. Sen dra-ah-din. Te…Tehn. Si-veh…”

“Almost got it,” said a voice to his right. “We’re learning constellation names. The accent can be hard on some of the syllables.”

Sausage glanced down to see a boy with a warm umber complexion, tightly curled orange hair, and amber eyes, who then reached up to tap one of the words. Another boy, pale-skinned with longer, dark green hair and light blue eyes stood behind him. “Sieveh.”

Sausage repeated the word, trying to imitate the melodic sound. The boy shook his head. Sausage tried again, then chuckled. “Sorry, I need more practice. I just started learning.”

“That’s okay. Common is hard to learn sometimes, too.” The orange-haired boy nodded sagely. “By the way, I’m Azahar. I’m eleven years old. This is my best friend, Elowen. He’s nine.” It came out sounding rehearsed. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. My name is Sausage. I’m here with my husband, Scott.” He pointed toward the door with his right hand, being the side closer to it.

Azahar nudged the younger boy and said quietly, “I told you it worked like a normal one.”

Elowen nodded enthusiastically then piped up, “Excuse me, can I ask about your arm? It looks really cool! Have you always had it?”

Relieved that they were interested over intimidated, Sausage gave a patient smile. “You can, and thank you. I think it’s cool, too. It’s actually pretty new.”

“Can I touch it?” Elowen asked, and Azahar nodded as well.

“Um, sure. Just be careful of the wiring and those overlapping parts there, they might pinch your finger.” Sausage got down on one knee so his prosthetic was closer, stretching out his fingers so they could get a look at the mechanics of his hand, too. He turned it over as they cautiously poked at some of the metal.

Azahar began looking over the parts connecting to his upper arm but refrained from lifting the partial sleeve. “Can I ask what happened to your real arm?”

An amusing thought popped into Sausage’s head. “A dragon ate it during a fight!”

“Whaaaat?” Azahar’s eyes went wide.

“That’s even cooler!” Elowen exclaimed. “Did it hurt when the dragon bit it?”

“Yes, but I have a friend who is good with healing magic and she helped me.”

“Did you try to get it back?” Azahar asked.

“No, the dragon really wanted it for lunch.”

“Where did you get this one?” was the orange-haired boy’s next question.

“A friend who invents lots of cool stuff made it for me.”

“How does it wo—”

“What happened to the dragon?” Elowen cried, interrupting. Azahar didn’t seem to mind, and was actually looking happy to see the younger boy so engaged.

“Well, I had to take a break from fighting because that was also my sword arm, but my friends defeated it.”

Elowen was beaming, although still attempted to be a little quiet as he said, “I could have a dad who fights dragons? That’s so cool…”

“Two, actually. He helped me.” Sausage pointed again to Scott, who had noticed the exchange going on and was now walking over. “Scott, this is Azahar and Elowen. We were just chatting about dragon battles.” He gave a quick wink.

Azahar asked something in Elvish, to which Scott laughed and spoke a reply where the only word Sausage understood was brave. Then Scott switched to Common. “So, boys, I hear it’s lunchtime soon. Would you like to sit with us and talk some more? Besides about his fascinating arm?” He grinned, directing the look mostly at Sausage.

“Yeah!!” Elowen cried, then ran back to the desk he had previously been sitting at.

“We have to put away our schoolwork before eating,” Azahar explained. He glanced after Elowen, then gave the two adults something of a sad smile and looked up at Scott in particular. “His eyes are like yours.” Then he walked back to his own desk.

Sausage and Scott traded glances and then started toward the door. Scott asked quietly, “Did – Did you tell them we were only looking for one?”

“No, it didn’t come up,” Sausage answered. “They just wanted to know about my arm. Both of them,” he abruptly marveled. “And neither seem to mind that I’m human, which…the others do care about.”

“Maybe we’ve gotten lucky that there are two who are accepting of the situation,” Scott murmured thoughtfully.

“I think Azahar was trying to make sure we at least choose Elowen. They’re already close friends…”

“We could take both…”

“Let’s see how lunch goes. Maybe… just to make sure they’ll be okay with other stuff about us – uh, aside from that part about where we live. Ahem. We could talk about some other things besides the obvious. Do you want to show them some ice magic, to be on the safe side?”

“I could. Let me talk to the lead caretaker.” Scott broke off to wave at one of the women, while Sausage wandered further from the classroom door, not wanting to be a disruption when the children left for their lunch at wherever the eating area was.

As an accommodation some food was brought to him, Scott, Azahar, and Elowen in the classroom so they could talk without stares from the others. The boys asked about things like their adventures and hobbies, while Scott and Sausage volunteered as much information as they could without giving away their full identities. Azahar grew increasingly more involved when it became obvious that they were both being considered together.

Scott revealed a few tricks he could do with conjured ice magic, making the boys even more curious and intrigued, leading to questions of whether they would be allowed to learn magic. It was agreed that it could be included in their education, prompting them to promise they would do their very best at all their studies and then they showed off some of that day’s classwork.

Not long after that, the boys were sent to pack up their belongings while Scott and Sausage finalized documents with the lead caretaker. She eyed the official seal of Mythland that Sausage placed after his name before hiding the stamp back in his pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them who you really are before you leave?” she asked in Common.

“We’re certain,” Scott replied. “We’re just two fathers starting a family.” He did trade another glance with Sausage, however. “If for any reason it doesn’t work out, we’ll do the right thing and let you know. But we both hope the next you hear will be about them settling in at their new home.”

When they met the boys at the door, they each took a bag to carry for them, letting Azahar and Elowen run ahead to the carriage, where they none-too-quietly speculated about the size and style belonging to a noble, and asking if it had been rented for the trip since Sausage had told them over lunch that they would be travelling a fair distance to get home. Once their bags were stowed they inspected the interior, having never been inside an enclosed carriage before. Scott and Sausage sat together and watched them with amusement at their curiosity, fielding more questions as the journey home began.

The boys eventually settled down, each taking a side to stare out the windows as the scenery changed from the familiar lands of Rivendell’s climate to the different hills and fields of the neighboring empires. When the first outlying settlements of Mythland came into view, Sausage reached for Scott’s hand with his left, seeking a little reassurance for his nerves.

“Are those giant mushrooms?” Azahar asked, peering out the window at an angle as if to look up under the plant’s cap. “I’ve seen this kind of forest in a book before, it looks amazing up close!”

“We can take a walk out to see some tomorrow,” Sausage suggested. “You’ll be able to see them from the – house, too, when we’re actually home. This is just the outskirts of where we live.”

Elowen looked over with wide eyes. “How big is this forest? It just keeps going! There’s no mountains anywhere!”

Sausage chuckled. “The forest of Mythland is mostly flat, but you’ll be able to see more when the trees thin out.”

The boys went back to watching the outside pass by, having the occasional comment but staying calm until the carriage finally rolled into the main city. Then Elowen gasped and beckoned Azahar over to his side. “Look, look! There’s a big castle!”

“Whoa! Are we going to go past it? Who lives there?”

Sausage couldn’t contain a grin. “We do, and now so do you.”

Azahar turned a look of disbelief toward him. “Wait, that means you… are nobles? So, you own this carriage?”

“Well, not just any nobles,” Scott said, grinning as well. “Our official titles are Lord Sausage of Mythland and King Regnant Scott.”

“K-King? …W-Wait, that means we’re…” Azahar looked at Elowen and wondered if he understood the implications.

“You are the new princes of Mythland,” Scott declared warmly.

Azahar sat back against the seat, digesting the news while Elowen seemed to still be working things out. “So…my new dads fight dragons and are kings of a whole big place with giant mushrooms and no mountains… This is kinda weird but it’s still cool!”

Azahar gave a little laugh and patted his friend-turned-brother on the head. “So, are we supposed to call you ‘Lord’ and ‘King’, um, ‘King Regnant’, too? I don’t know how being a prince is supposed to work except what’s in fairy tales.”

“You can just call us Dad,” Scott indicated himself, then pointed at Sausage, “And Papa, if you like. Or just our regular names. Titles are for use outside the family. You’ll meet some of our friends who go by names like Count fWhip and the Wizard GeminiTay. fWhip was the one who created Sausage’s prosthetic arm. He’ll be like an uncle to you. You’ll see him around because that arm needs regular maintenance, so you’ll see it when he’s not wearing it, too.”

“I hope that won’t bother either of you?” Sausage put in.

The boys shook their heads and Azahar replied, “We’ve seen – what’s it called – ampu…tees? Before. There are some old veterans in our village. But none of them have anything like that.”

“It’s a fWhip original,” Sausage explained, and then began to think of asking the inventor if he was interested in doing similar projects.

Scott had more he wanted to tell them, but at that moment the carriage came to a halt. “Here we are,” he said instead. “Mythland Castle. I am going to ask that you not run around right away. It’s a big place and you could maybe get lost.”

“We won’t, sir—uh, Dad.” Azahar paused then gave a delighted smile at being able to say the word. He helped Elowen get down from the carriage and held his hand to make sure he didn’t start wandering off, since the younger boy was already looking around in fascination.

Sausage followed next and took all of the bags as Scott handed them out to him. Then all four of them went up the steps to start a tour of the boys’ new home. One of the first stops was their bedrooms, down the hall from the royal chambers, and Sausage was now glad he had the foresight to clear a second room previously intended for guests.

However, the boys looked very confused by the options, each staring into the same room, with Elowen questioning, “Where’s my bed?”

“You can each have your own room!” Sausage pointed to the other doorway. “See, there’s another right across from here.”

“No, I wanna be in his room.” Elowen suddenly clung to Azahar’s arm.

The older boy spoke quietly to him in Elvish, and Scott flashed a sympathetic look as he overheard, then Azahar asked, “Can we share one for now? I’ll help move a bed over if you need me to.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll get it,” Sausage chirped, and set down the bags to bustle about in the second room, removing the bedding. Scott directed the boys to stand to the side and went to help him, and a short while later they had rearranged the agreed upon room to accommodate everything. They left the bags to be unpacked later and continued the tour, which included the library, treasury, dining hall, and a stop off in the courtyard for an introduction to Bubbles, which lead to more delight from the boys when they were offered a chance to run around with her.

Sausage told them that she had her own castle to look after but she visited often, so she was their dog to play with, too. Bubbles gave her approval of the children – not that Sausage ever thought she would doubt his decision in the matter. Not long after, he joined in the running around, pretending Bubbles was a scary beast that required fleeing, with extra flee. At one point he hoisted Elowen onto his shoulders, getting him out of range as Bubbles feigned nipping at his ankles. She jumped repeatedly, not getting much higher than Sausage’s stomach, causing Elowen to laugh.

Azahar, meanwhile, drifted over to where Scott sat on a bench watching with his own joy at seeing Sausage having such unrestrained fun. He commented to the older boy, “You’ve been watching out for him for a while, haven’t you?”

“He was really shy when he first got there. I don’t know what happened to his family, but I wanted to help.”

“I heard you were there for a long time.”

“Yeah. I just wanted the littler kids to get a home. I thought I could just, you know, grow up there, and work there. That seemed okay.”

Scott’s heart broke a little at hearing the tone of his voice, the weight of too much knowledge for his age. “If that’s something you would like to do when you’re grown up, we’ll support you. But you’re allowed to be a kid right now, and we’re here to look after Elowen now, too. So go play some more.” He turned a kind smile to him.

“No, let him have Papa to himself for a while. I’d like to sit here with you, Dad.” Azahar returned the smile and sat down. For the next hour or so they simply chatted in Elvish while Sausage and Elowen tired themselves out chasing or being chased by Bubbles.

~*~

Later, after dinner, the boys returned to their room to unpack their things. Azahar had a few of his favorite books that he placed across the top of his dresser. Elowen held up a picture book of his own, which the older boy smiled at and put next to his. Then he helped Elowen organize his clothes before hopping up on his bed to think about the day’s events.

Elowen took a slightly ragged-looking teddy bear out of his bag and climbed up next to Azahar, hugging the doll as he, too, thought about things. “Do you think they’re going to let us stay?”

“I think they’re very happy to have us. Papa is… different, and the other kids didn’t like that.”

“But he’s nice! And a lot of fun! And he has Bubbles!”

Azahar chuckled. “Well, we didn’t know about Bubbles before, either.”

“He let me ask all those things and didn’t get mad and was nice at our home. I don’t know why everybody else didn’t want to talk to him. They didn’t even try to ask him anything!”

“I’ll explain it to you later. Are you going to sleep in your own bed, or do you want me to tuck you in over here?”

“Umm… Can I stay here?” Elowen squirmed. “This place is nice but it’s… kinda scary, too?”

“Well, it’s a lot bigger than we’re used to, and it is a castle.” Azahar went over to get an extra pillow from the other bed, then arranged the blanket over Elowen and smirked. “There might even be ghosts hiding in some secret passage!”

“Nooo! That’s too scary!”

The older boy laughed. “Don’t worry, our dads are brave heroes, remember? They wouldn’t let ghosts or anything else hurt you. We’re their family now, right?” He climbed back onto the bed and made himself comfortable, letting the younger boy snuggle against him for familiarity’s sake.

“So, if we’re princes now, do we have some kind of job we have to do?”

“I don’t know. You can ask tomorrow. But I think we just get to be kids, and run around and have fun like you did today.”

“Okay. … … I’m gonna be extra good, just in case. I wanna stay here.”

Meanwhile, down the hall, the two newly minted fathers were also settling in for the night. Scott picked a stray leaf out from under a strut on Sausage’s prosthetic as he put it away. He looked at the leaf with amusement as he twirled the stem between his fingers, then set it on the windowsill before turning to his side of the bed.

Sausage was already laying down and gazing at the ceiling, then he looked over at Scott. “We have kids now. Two kids. Two… sons.”

“I know. I was there.”

“H— come on, now! Don’t ruin the moment!”

Scott laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. You did seem to be having a lot of fun out there.”

“I’ve ended up always being too busy to play with Bubbles most of the time. But today it felt different, anyway.”

“Now you have someone to share that with you, and meeting Bubbles was like a new experience for them, too.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Sausage went back to staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, then said, “I hope they’ll want to stay. Mythland is going to be different for them.”

Scott thought back to some things Azahar had told him. “It’s something of an adventure for them. Give it some time and we’ll find out how they feel. But I think we made the right choice.”

~*~

Over breakfast the next morning the boys were more subdued and being extraneously polite, with a few ‘sir’s slipping out as food was passed along the table. Sausage cast a couple of worried glances at Scott, who wanted to assure him that they were still adjusting but didn’t want to say it out loud in case it might make them feel like they were doing something wrong.

Finally, it was Elowen who broke the tension. “Excuse me, I wanna ask ‘cause Azahar didn’t know – do we have to do anything special because we’re princes now? Do princes have jobs? I know they rescue girls sometimes but that’s always in stories! What do they really do?”

“Well,” Scott replied, “Princes your age don’t have to worry about jobs yet. You might learn some things about the work we do when you’re older, but even I was only a prince until I married your papa. My brother, who is now also your uncle, has the job of a ruler, and I would only help out if he needed it.”

Azahar waved his fork. “So, if you lived in Rivendell instead of here, we would still be princes?”

“That’s right. Your whole family is royalty.” Scott smiled, feeling that he got past the technicality of having also been a king elsewhere. “Sausage does most of the work because this is his kingdom. The only work you have to do is your studies. We’ll set something up in the library later for that, but this morning we can all go out for a walk or look around the castle more if you like.”

Then Elowen remembered. “The giant mushrooms!”

Sausage nodded, also recalling the boys’ fascination from the day before. “There are some right behind the castle. We’ll go out after everyone is done here.”

Elowen excitedly began eating faster to finish his breakfast, although Azahar quietly reminded him to not eat too fast.

On the way out they ran into Bubbles, so the boys had another good run through the trees until they came across one of the giant mushrooms, which they inspected and made a brief attempt to climb. This time Scott was the one to lift Elowen on his shoulders to reach the underside of the mushroom’s cap, with Azahar watching from below while Sausage had a word with Bubbles.

Apparently, there was something important she needed him for, so after helping Elowen down from Scott’s shoulders, Sausage excused himself but promised to meet back up with them for lunch. The three elves walked for a little while so Scott could show them some of the paths that led either to other outside parts of the castle or into town, then they headed back inside for the remainder of the tour they hadn’t finished the previous day.

They ended at the library, with Scott saying, “I have someone else for you to meet who will help with some of your studies. Please wait here while I go get him.” He held the door open and the boys began to wander around to get a better look at the inside of the library. Elowen hopped up on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, glancing at the books someone had left on the table beside it, while Azahar went to the nearest bookshelf and looked at some of the titles.

Scott returned a few minutes later with some paper and quills tucked under one arm, and the boys were extremely confused to see that he was being followed by a… chicken. A chicken wearing armor with red and yellow heraldry, but still very much a chicken. “Boys, this is Sir Carlos. He’ll be teaching you Mythland’s history and helping with some other lessons.”

Sir Carlos tilted his head at each of the boys in turn, then clucked and said, “Young master Azahar, young master Elowen, it is a pleasure to meet you. I understand your studies center on Rivendell, so I will include that in your lessons. You are welcome to ask any questions about Mythland and I will do my best to answer.”

The two boys couldn’t help staring. Sir Carlos clucked quietly, then sighed. “Yes, I am currently a talking chicken. No, I wasn’t always a chicken. Your… papa has endeavored to return me to my original form but the spell was cast so long ago that it has been lost to time. I have gone on several quests to find the solution, and yes, I will tell you about them, but that will come later. Sire,” he nodded to Scott, who motioned for the boys to join him at one of the reading tables, where he set out the paper and quills, with one set of each for himself, as well.

Sir Carlos flapped his wings and got himself up onto a chair, then onto the table where he began to walk back and forth. “Firstly, tell me about your schoolwork so far, then we will choose a curriculum from there.”

Scott explained the concept of a curriculum in Elvish, then proceeded to help, translate, and take notes of his own. He and Sir Carlos soon had a general list, and then it was Azahar who reminded them about the possibility of learning magic. That one was out of Sir Carlos’ realm of expertise, but Scott decided he could get them started on some of the casting forms for ice magic, while another tutor would be needed for other types.

A little while later Sausage returned from the business with Bubbles for lunch as promised. He put in his thoughts on school lessons and agreed to sit in on the ones about Mythland’s history when the boys asked if he could tell them stories about their new home, too.

~*~

Extra-curricular lessons ended up diverging after a few days, however, when Scott was teaching them how to shape spell sigils in the air and, while Elowen was able to get it on the second try, Azahar struggled – with not a wisp of spell energy being conjured. It soon became clear that he simply didn’t have the propensity for magic. Sausage stepped in and offered to begin his sword fighting training early so that he would have something to do while Scott helped Elowen develop his burgeoning skills; Azahar was, of course, happy for his brother, especially because it looked like ice magic could be his specialty, and it gave them each a different way to bond with their new fathers.

What he lacked in magic he made up for with agility and analysis while using a blade, quickly picking up on the forms, if not yet having the strength to back up his strikes – although those, too, were only meant as examples, and Sausage didn’t push him too hard during practice. He enjoyed the chance to spend time with Azahar, though, getting to know him and making up for the slight lack he felt about not being able to hold full conversations in Elvish like Scott. The boy, in turn, helped him work on learning the language in between their own lessons and Sausage’s kingly duties that kept him busy.

Around three weeks later, everyone seemed to have settled nicely into their new routine, and there were no more worries on either side about whether things would work out. The boys were out playing in the garden with Bubbles during an afternoon off from lessons. Scott sat reading a book and occasionally glanced up when they ran by, although it was something mentioned in the book that made him get up and wander off in search of Sausage.

He found him where he expected to, standing over a desk sorting through a wide assortment of papers with requests from around the kingdom. Scott leaned on the doorway, tapping the spine of the book against his chin. “Sausage, I was just reminded of something. Do you remember how old you were at your debut gala?”

“Ummm, I think maybe I was ten.”

“Oh. It’s different for the elven court. But since this is Mythland, we could start thinking about having one for Azahar soon, since we missed that window.”

“Well, I think my parents waited for one reason or another. Considering the stories, they might have been waiting out a curse or something.” He laughed but cut himself off. “Uhm, maybe it’s not that funny actually, eh-heh. Okay, well, we could just make our own tradition. Split the difference and have one now for both of them, instead of introducing them separately. That might…actually work out better for Elowen, you know? I noticed he, um, gets a bit clingy toward Azahar when new people are around.”

“That’s true,” Scott agreed quietly. “I do like the idea overall. It might be easier on them to experience that part of royal life if they’re sharing a special day.”

“How big are we going to make this thing? Mine was open to the whole kingdom because I was the sole prince at that point. I don’t want to put too much pressure on them.” Sausage then added in a mutter, “Also, remember what happened at that one party after the wedding…”

“I think we’ll at most invite our friends, with the rulers of all the empires being a courteous necessity. It isn’t a secret to our kingdom anyway, but this will be one of those official introduction things.”

“Okay!” Sausage grinned and pushed all the missives into one pile, then took out a fresh sheet of paper and a drafting pencil. Then he began to rattle off fancy phrasing in an ostentatious voice, “Dearest friends, allies, and others, you are hereby invited…”

Scott chuckled as he continued with an exaggerated courtly tone and waited until he was done writing to pluck the pencil from his hand, turn the paper around, and start adding decorative flourishes around the border.

~*~

Everyone had just settled down for breakfast when Sausage announced, “Lessons today will come later, boys. We have an appointment at the tailor shop for something special.” He couldn’t help throwing an excited look at Scott. “We decided we’re going to have a special party for you that royal families hold when introducing a new child to the kingdom called a debut gala. Usually, it’s for one child at a time – well, unless there are twins or triplets, or something – but we’re going to have it for both of you at the same time, so you can share it. We thought you would prefer that.” He smiled gently at Elowen, whose eyes had gone as big as saucers.

Azahar seemed to be fighting back some tears of his own. Then he blurted out, “That – That sounds like it really makes things official! That we… we really do get to stay!”

Now Sausage and Scott traded alarmed looks, and the latter said with concern, “Of course you’re staying! You’re our sons. I – I’m sorry if anything in the last few weeks made you think we weren’t going to keep you.”

Sausage abruptly stood, nearly knocking his chair down, and hurried over to enfold Azahar in a hug. “We - We’ve been worried you might not want to stay, because things are different here, and we’re a little different, but… we love having you here with us! We want you as our family.” He tried to convey his sincerity without squeezing the boy too hard with his metal arm.

Elowen let out a sort of squawk and ran around the table to throw his arms around Scott. “We love you, too! I told Azahar I would behave really good because I really wanted to stay! I’ll keep being really good! A big party sounds scary but I still wanna be a prince!”

Scott gently patted Elowen’s back. “It’s not going to be too big. We’re inviting just our friends and other rulers so they’ll know we have more family now. It will be a bit fancy, but you still don’t have to worry about knowing everything about being a prince. You’ll be introduced to everyone by name, then everyone dances and has some food, and they might ask you some things to get to know you a little. We’ll be right there if you’re not sure about something, or even if it is a little scary.”

Sausage returned to his seat after straightening the chair. “And there’s one more thing: you’ll each get your own special crown! Not like my silly old thing, but something nice that you can wear whenever you want, or not at all – unless there is another fancy event that you’d like to go to.”

Azahar asked curiously, “Then, what will they look like?”

Sausage grinned. “It’s a surprise. But you do get to pick out the outfit and colors you want to wear for it! We’ll head out after breakfast, so eat up!”

As with almost all of the recent trips into town, such as the last time they had gone out to get the boys some new clothes in general, the more people they passed the more Elowen retreated into himself. He clung to Azahar’s hand and shied away against him despite the warm greetings from citizens who were merely happy to see their king and his husband out among them. By the third instance of a shopkeeper attempting to draw a smile from the shy boy, Sausage fell in beside Elowen and offered his left hand for him to also hold, acting as a second barrier to what was meant as politeness, yet was obliviousness on the part of the outgoing citizens.

By the time they reached the tailor’s shop, Elowen had begun to peek around with more curiosity toward his surroundings. Inside, the tailor also greeted them kindly before bustling off to the back room. He returned a moment later with an assistant and a small basket. From it he took three bobby pins with tassels made from metallic string on the ends. He gestured for Scott to lean forward, then he slid a pin with a red tassel into his hair near his ear, then turned to smile at the boys. Azahar accepted a gold one threaded carefully into his hair, while for Elowen the tailor knelt and gently slipped a silver one onto the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

Elowen looked at the tassel dangling from his cuff and the tailor lightly flicked it to make it sway. Elowen smiled and began playing with it, neatly distracted. The tailor then moved to get a tape measure from the basket and took Azahar’s measurements, with the older boy following instructions for how to stand and when to hold out his arms. When it was Elowen’s turn, the tailor asked him to hold out the tassel in different ways, effectively getting him to make the same poses for measuring.

The next step was picking out the style of outfit they wanted. The assistant brought out some examples, which were decidedly on the Mythland side of fashion. Seeing that both of the boys were uncertain, Sausage suggested they could get the same thing in different colors. Azahar glanced at Scott a few times then asked if they could get something similar to his elven tunic with a Mythland-style doublet over it (after he figured out what the clothing pieces were called).

At that point Elowen began to clutch at the tassel instead of still playing with it. Sausage held out his hand again, and now the boy practically buried himself in his papa’s cloak. The tailor cast a sympathetic look at Sausage and Scott, then quietly asked if Elowen would like to touch the fabrics; he didn’t even have to choose one, it was okay for him to just see what they all felt like.

Elowen nodded, and soon he and Sausage were walking through the shop patting at the assorted bolts of fabric with Sausage commenting how soft one was or how the textured pattern on another was weird, getting Elowen to laugh a few times.

Azahar smiled after them, then turned his own attention to choosing something he liked. He eventually settled on scarlet and yellow, hoping to lend significance to the colors of Mythland’s banner as his new home. After some gentle coaxing from Sausage, Elowen went back around and patted some dark blue fabric to indicate his choice.

With everything settled and a follow up day for a fitting agreed upon, they set off back home. Elowen was quiet the entire way and only relaxed once they were on the castle grounds. Instead of departing right away to tend to daily work, Sausage nodded meaningfully to Scott, then nodded toward Elowen as the boy seemed to meander aimlessly away whereas Azahar set off immediately toward the library for the expected delayed lessons.

Sausage moved to Elowen’s side with Scott a step behind. “Elowen, can we talk out in the garden for a moment?”

The boy glanced around for a second, but not seeing Azahar for reassurance, he silently nodded then lowered his head. Sausage gently took his hand and the three of them walked down to the doors leading to the securely walled-in outside area. Once there, Elowen continued to look at the ground. “Sorry if I didn’t act like a brave prince should today. I’m… I’m…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I get scared sometimes…”

Sausage lowered himself to one knee to get closer to eye level. “You know what? It’s okay if being around a lot of strangers makes you nervous. All those people out there were happy to see us, and they’ll be nice to you, but if you’re nervous about it, you just tell one of us, and we’ll be right there to keep you safe. We don’t expect you to be brave all the time. I mean, we appreciate if you be a polite young elf, of course. But if there’s something you want to talk about so we can help things not be so scary…” He attempted to drop a hint without being pushy. He couldn’t help wondering if something in the boy’s past had contributed to this.

Scott, however, was the one to pick up on the hint. He placed his hands on Elowen’s shoulders. “Um. We’ll listen and help you with anything, but you don’t even have to talk about it right now. We just want you to know that as your dads, we’re here for you.”

Sausage smiled up at Scott with a sheepish look, realizing he was softening the potential pushiness. Sausage then placed his right hand on Elowen’s arm. “It’s always okay to say if something scares you. Adults get scared of things, too.”

Elowen glanced at Sausage’s prosthetic arm, then put a hand over the metal and gave a small smile before hugging his human father. “Thank you, Papa, Dad. …I don’t wanna talk about anything right now, but I feel better. I’ll try not to be so scared next time.” He stood back but kept his hand on Sausage’s prosthetic and said quietly, “Getting bitten by a dragon must be scary, too, and maybe too scary to talk a lot about.”

Sausage smiled back at him then ruffled the boy’s hair with his left hand. “That’s a good point! I’ve got an idea for something else we can do today that’s more fun than scary dragons: Why don’t you help me finish the invitations and get them sent out? You know all those ravens that hang out on top of the tower? We can tell them to go to Uncle fWhip and everyone that’s invited to the party! Let’s go find your brother!”

The three of them quickly went to collect a surprised Azahar from the library, but he caught on to Elowen’s enthusiasm after the quiet walk home. They relocated the stack of invitations – and Sausage’s stack of daily paperwork – to the dining room table to have space for all of them to work.

Now that they had an idea of when the boys’ outfits would be ready, they could set an official date for the gala, which Azahar and Scott wrote in the space left blank in the original draft. Scott signed each one, then passed them to Elowen, who put them in a neat pile for Sausage to sign in between his other missives. Elowen then took each one back and carefully rolled it up. Scott showed them how to apply enough wax before pressing the seal of Mythland into the middle to show that this was an approved royal message. He put the boys in charge of keeping hold of the dozen invitations while they waited for Sausage to seal some other scrolls, then up they went to the raven aerie.

The majority of the ravens were out on the rooftops. Sausage took care of a few unrelated missives first with quiet instructions, then turned a big grin to the boys. “Okay, where should we start? Alphabetical in Common? The closest first? The farthest – oh, we should probably send Tango’s to Jimmy, I don’t think any of the ravens know how to get to that particular Ancient City, um. Hmm…”

Elowen glanced at a raven that was hopping around on the nearest windowsill. “Are we gonna go by their first names or the name of their empire?”

“Good question!” Sausage replied. “What do you think? Which ones do you remember better from geography lessons?”

Elowen placed his set of invitations on the floor so his hands were free to count on his fingers. “Uncle fWhip is in the Grimlands, Auntie Gem is at the Crystal Cliffs… Auntie Pearl is in Gilded Heel-lee-lanthia—”

“Helianthia,” Azahar corrected.

“Umm, so, Auntie Pearl would be first by the closest empire, but Auntie Gem would be first by name…”

“Wait,” Azahar put in, “Would the Cod Empire be first by empire, or does it go under ‘the’ instead of ‘cod’? …That would mean the Grimlands wouldn’t go under ‘g’ either, huh?”

<i>”Cod! Cod!”</i> the raven on the windowsill called out.

Azahar nearly dropped the scrolls he was holding. “D-Did that one just say ‘cod’ or ‘caw’…?”

Sausage tried to suppress a giggle but failed. “Crows caw, ravens have a deeper kind of <i>grunk.”</i>

“Cod! Cod!” the raven repeated. “Cod Empire!” It then tilted its head and looked at the invitations Elowen had put down. “This letter is for Jimmy!” It hopped down to the floor and began to poke at the scrolls with its beak.

Scott scooped one up and held it out to the raven. “They don’t have individual names on them, but you can deliver this one to Jimmy, in the Cod Empire.”

“Cod! Cod! Jimmy is a cod!”

Scott smiled with a chuckle of his own. “Close enough.”

The ruckus got the attention of a few more ravens, who fluttered onto the windowsills and were soon calling to each other as word got around among them that there were quite a few scrolls in the hands of their young masters, as Elowen picked his up to start offering them to whichever raven ventured near. “This one goes to… GeminiTay at the Crystal Cliffs,” he said, trying to sound authoritative while keeping the order of empires listed in his head – since the choice had been decided for them. “Oh! This one goes to Tango the Blaze Emperor, he’ll get his from Jimmy – in the Cod Empire,” he said to the next raven, almost forgetting what Sausage had said earlier.

After he had gone through his half of the invitations, Azahar took over. “This one goes to King Joel in Mazelea. This one goes to Queen Lizzie in the Ocean Empire. Next is Shrub… no, Princess Katherine, in the Overgrown. Heh, I kinda keep messing up the Overgrown and the Undergrove, sorry.”

The next raven croaked at him then plucked at the scroll still in his hand. He hastily handed it over and continued with the rest of the list. He and Elowen then ran to a window to watch the ravens flying off in various directions, including the two going the same way to their neighboring empire.

~*~

Sitting on the dock outside the humble, littlest shack in the Cod Empire, Tango the Blazeborn Emperor held his feet just above the water, casually humming while watching Jimmy swim around under the surface. He was generally careful to not touch the water himself, out of an overabundance of caution, but he did lean over to look at how his fires, black cloak, and blazerod crown was reflected between the ripples.

The mirrored image of two birds flew into view, then they circled and landed at the edge of the shack’s roof. Tango could see they each had a scroll clutched in the talons of one foot. He stood up and held out his hands. “Those are for Jimmy, right? I’ll give them to him. You can’t swim either, can you?”

“Jimmy the cod!” croaked out one. The birds – ravens, Tango now remembered they were called – looked at each other. The second one croaked, “Give it to Jimmy! For Tango the Blaze!”

“Hey, that’s me! So, you were going to give both to Jimmy, and he’d give me one? He’ll probably be up in a minute, but it works the same way: give both to me, and I’ll give him one!”

The ravens conferred with each other in quiet creaking sounds, then both fluttered off the roof. Tango held his hands out again, only for both birds to drop the scrolls while remaining a distance above him, missing his hands completely. He realized they probably didn’t want to get too close to the flame atop his head. “It’s okay! I don’t take it personally!” he called after them as they flew off back the way they had come.

Tango picked up one scroll and broke the seal, softening the wax with his touch but reining in his heat to not set the parchment itself on fire. He unrolled it then tilted his head as he puzzled over some unfamiliar words.

The Codfather climbed up onto the dock a few seconds later and noticed his companion’s look of concentration. “What have you got there?”

“Hey, so – what’s a gala? And what are princes?”

“What? Let me see.”

“Oh, there was one for you, too! I guess they’re the same, but…” Tango turned and bent to pick up the other scroll that the ravens had dropped. “Here! Tell me if yours says it, too!” He handed it over and rather eagerly bounced on his toes while Jimmy struggled for a second to break the seal with his still-damp fingers.

Tango waited patiently for confirmation and an explanation, but all Jimmy did was exclaim, “Wait, since when has Mythland had princes??”

[Chapter Two - The First Gala ]

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #empires bubbles #sir carlos #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #scosage #champions au: garden path #empires smp s1 #empiresshipping #team rancher #...but in Empires #lunar yarns

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depressedhouseplant · 6 months ago

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🔞 The Morning After (Yoonjin) 🔞

Synopsis: What happens when you mix an accountant, a tattoo artist, and a lot of alcohol? A plethora of questionable life choices.

Tags: Drunk sex, anal fingering, unprotected sex, first time topping, masturbation, spanking, BDSM undertones, hair pulling, just get the holy water

Jin didn’t go to bars. They weren’t his thing. They were noisy and why pay $15 for a drink he could make at home? For some reason, he walked into the bar in the hotel after his work conference instead of going straight home. It was a hotel bar. It couldn’t be that noisy.

This bar was actually kind of cozy. Lots of dark wood and low lighting. There were lots of small booths which were clearly designed for 2 people to sit very close together. Jin couldn’t help but scoff. He hadn’t been on a date in over a year. He had ambitions. It’s what broke up his last relationship.

“Martini,” he said when he walked up to the bar.

“Coming right up,” the bartender replied.

“You look like you’d drink a real martini,” the voice was over his left shoulder. He turned and saw a guy in an old Rolling Stones tee, leather jacket, and jeans walk up to the bar. He had tattoos on his hands and mint green hair.

“And you look like you drink cheap beer,” Jin retorted.

“Maybe,” the guy replied. The bartender came back and gave Jin his drink.

“Can I get you something?” she asked.

“Whiskey on the rocks. A very small rock,” the guy replied. He looked at Jin. “Better than cheap beer?”

“I guess if you were going to drink hard liquor,” Jin replied. The guy’s drink came sliding down the bar.

“Care to continue this conversation sitting down?” he asked. Jin thought about the size of the booths again. This guy looked like he belonged in a biker gang. Looks could be deceiving, though.

“Sure,” he decided.

They settled into a booth, their knees touching. The guy was a couple inches shorter than Jin, but somehow their legs still managed to touch.

“I’m Yoongi, by the way,” he said.

“Jin,” he replied.

“So since we seem to be guessing about each other, I guess you’re here for work,” Yoongi said.

“Yeah, I had a conference here today,” Jin replied.

“What about me?” Yoongi leaned back a little, looking cocky as fuck. Jin hated to admit it, but it was kinda hot.

“You’re...a tattoo artist?” he ventured.

“That was an easy one,” Yoongi took a sip of his drink. “You’re definitely single.”

“Now that’s judgey,” Jin replied.

“You’re not wearing a ring and you decided to stick around after your conference was over. If you had someone to go home to, you would have,” Yoongi pointed out.

“You’re single, too,” Jin huffed.

“Am I?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re also not wearing a ring and you’re also in a hotel bar,” Jin replied.

“What if I come here regularly?” Yoongi asked.

“If you came here regularly, then the bartender would recognize you,” Jin said.

“Not bad,” Yoongi replied. “I’m also here for work. Tattoo convention.”

“Those are a thing?” Jin cocked his head.

“Yup,” Yoongi finished his drink. “I don’t suppose you have any?”

“No,” Jin tried to control his blush.

“Didn’t think so,” Yoongi grinned. “You gonna finish that? I’m ready for another round.”

“Of drinking or guessing?” Jin questioned.

“Both,” Yoongi replied. Jin quickly finished his drink and Yoongi flagged down a waitress to order more. Jin hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and he could already feel the alcohol going to his head.

“So you obviously have to wear a tie to work. I’m gonna guess you do something technical,” Yoongi said when the next round arrived.

“I’m an accountant,” Jin said.

“Math, close enough,” Yoongi leaned closer to Jin. “But now for the interesting stuff.”

“Like what?” Jin asked.

“I think one more round and we’ll both be ready to do something that involves a little less talking and definitely less clothing,” Yoongi said. “Unless you’re not interested.”

Jin swallowed hard. Now he was sure he was blushing. He’d never hooked up with anyone before. That wasn’t his thing. Bars weren’t his thing either. Jin found himself wondering exactly how much of Yoongi’s skin was tattooed. He saw a grin curl on Yoongi’s lips.

“So you are interested,” the other man said.

“I am,” Jin’s pulse was rushing in his ears.

“Good,” he grinned.

They ordered their last round and had progressed to the giggly stage. Yoongi had put his hand on Jin’s thigh and Jin had one arm around Yoongi’s waist.

“I was not expecting this when I walked in here,” Yoongi said.

“Me neither,” Jin agreed. They stared at each other for a second. Then Yoongi started to close the distance between them. Jin held tighter onto Yoongi’s waist as their lips touched. He felt Yoongi’s hand slide up his thigh toward his rapidly growing erection. Jin pulled Yoongi closer into him when he felt Yoongi’s tongue brush his lips. Jin willingly opened his mouth and let Yoongi’s tongue in. He slid his free hand up Yoongi’s back and curled his fingers around his neck.

“We need to leave soon or we’re gonna get kicked out for fucking in this booth,” Jin said against Yoongi’s lips.

“I’ll pay the tab. Don’t go anywhere,” Yoongi slowly and grudgingly extracted himself from Jin’s grasp.

Jin shifted in his seat. His pants were tight and he was itching to get his hands back on Yoongi as fast as possible. He was a little drunk and very horny, but goddamn Yoongi was hot. It wasn’t simply that Jin hadn’t gotten laid in a year.

“Let’s go,” Yoongi looked down at him when he got back to the table.

“Where to?” Jin asked.

“My place isn’t far,” Yoongi told him.

“Good,” Jin replied as he got up. “Very good.”

Jin slid his hand in the back pocket of Yoongi’s jeans as they walked.

“That’s not fair,” Yoongi pouted. “You don’t have a pocket there.”

“Guess you’ll have to put your hand somewhere else,” Jin grinned.

“I’d put it down the front of your pants, but then walking might be an issue,” Yoongi retorted.

“Speaking of walking, are we there yet?” Jin asked.

“This is my building,” Yoongi stopped abd nodded toward the building they’d stopped in front of.

“Do I get to fuck you against the wall of the elevator?” Jin pressed his lips to Yoongi’s ear. The alcohol had definitely made him bolder.

“I’m on the first floor,” they walked in and Yoongi unlocked the second door on the hall. Jin took his hand out of Yoongi’s jeans and watched Yoongi’s pulse increase at the base of his throat.

“Where am I gonna fuck you? Do I have to guess that you like a cock in your ass?” Jin nested himself against Yoongi.

“Do you?” Yoongi replied as he opened the door.

“You don’t fondle someone’s cock like that unless you want to feel it in you,” Jin breathed.

“Is it as thick as I think it is?” Yoongi whined a little.

“Thicker. When I’m done with you, you’ll be limping. That’s assuming you can stand up in the first place,” Jin felt Yoongi’s fingers press into his waist. He whined louder this time.

“Not so full of bravado now, are you?” Jin snaked his hands onto Yoongi’s ass and pinched it hard. Yoongi groaned.

“Can we please take our clothes off?” Yoongi panted.

“Since you said please…” Jin leaned back to loosen his tie and pull it off. Yoongi almost tore his shirt as he took it off. Yoongi was naked by the time Jin started working on his pants. Stupid dress clothes and all their layers. When he finally got his clothes off, Yoongi looked down at Jin’s cock. Cats looked at mice with less desire. Yoongi grabbed Jin’s arm and pulled him into the bedroom.

“Please?” he looked at Jin with doe eyes.

“Please what?” Jin grinned.

“Please let me have your cock,” Yoongi whined.

“You’re one needy bitch,” Jin pushed him on the bed. Yoongi eagerly wrapped his legs around Jin’s hips when their lips had barely even touched. He was pushing his hips up so his dick rubbed against Jin’s.

“You don’t want to do that. You don’t want to come this way,” Jin whispered. Yoongi stopped moving, but not before a whimper of protest. “Are you gonna be a whiny little bitch while I’m fucking you? Are you gonna whimper while I give you all of my cock like you asked for?”

“Want you so much,” Yoongi begged.

“Then get on your stomach, gimme the lube, and I’ll give it to you,” Jin replied. Yoongi pointed to the nightstand and Jin pulled out a half full bottle of lube. Yoongi obediently got on his stomach. Jin roughly forced Yoongi’s legs apart and lubed them both. He separated Yoongi’s ass cheeks and opened him up with ease. Jin pushed just the tip in.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi moaned.

“Yes?” Jin smirked.

“More,” he said. Jin slid in further. Yoongi moaned louder. “More.”

“I must be doing something wrong since you aren’t whining for me yet,” Jin said. Yoongi was tight. Really tight. Jin hated to brag, but he was big. Most guys felt tight.

“All of it. I want all of it,” Yoongi breathed under him.

“Okay,” Jin pushed completely inside Yoongi. He listened to him moan loud enough that he could probably be heard through the wall. Jin ran his fingers up Yoongi’s spine. He felt him contract around him. He stopped when he got right under Yoongi’s head.

“You want me to pull your hair? You want me to hurt you?” Jin asked.

“I want you to spank me,” Yoongi replied.

“Do you now?” Jin grinned.

“Yes please,” the other man breathed.

“Up,” Jin ordered, not taking his hand off Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi slowly got up on his hands and knees. Jin gave him a solid slap.

“Harder,” Yoongi said. Jin hit him with a lot more force the second time. Yoongi grunted.

“Did I get it right this time?” he asked.

“Yes. Please hit me more,” Yoongi whined.

“While I pull this nice soft hair of yours? I think you might come just from that. I wouldn’t even have to fuck you,” Jin said.

“I can come twice. Please, please master, hit me again,” Yoongi begged. Jin froze. Master? Where the hell had he come up with that?

“Master? If I’m the master, then who are you?” Jin asked carefully.

“Pet. Call me pet,” he whined.

“Well then...pet…” Jin let the word roll off his tongue. “I’ll hit you until you come for me then I’ll fuck you until you come for me again.”

“Please, please do that,” Yoongi whimpered. Jin had a hard time believing that the tattooed, green haired tough guy he met in the bar a few hours ago was a whimpering mess underneath him. Yet he was balls deep in his tight ass feeling Yoongi shake while he weaved his fingers in Yoongi’s light green hair. Jin roughly pulled Yoongi’s head back and slapped his other ass cheek.

“More. Harder,” Yoongi panted.

“Are pets supposed to give their masters orders?” It was a genuine question. Jin had never done anything like this in bed before. Yoongi didn’t respond immediately.

“I’ll tell you how to do it,” Yoongi replied, trying to catch his breath.

“Okay,” Jin nodded.

“Hit me as hard as you can,” Yoongi breathed. Jin tightened his grip on Yoongi’s hair and hit him as hard as he was comfortable with. Yoongi whined. Jin kept spanking him until he felt Yoongi start to shake.

“What is it pet?” Jin asked.

“Gonna come,” he swayed his back against Jin’s grip. Jin released his hair and grabbed onto Yoongi’s hips. Yoongi fell down onto his elbows as he came. He jerked against Jin’s grip as he spilled come all over the bed.

“Fuck me,” he panted when he finished. He dipped his head to look back at Jin.

“Yes pet,” Jin tightened his grip on Yoongi’s hips and started ramming his cock into him. Yoongi started whining almost immediately. Jin couldn’t think of a good way to describe him other than fuckable. Yoongi was perfectly fuckable. His whining and moaning only got Jin hotter. The sound of their sweaty thighs slapping together made Jin groan. He dug his fingers deeper into Yoongi’s hips. Yoongi whined louder.

“You gonna come for me again, pet?” Jin asked.

“Soon,” he whimpered. “Soon.”

“I’m gonna come in your tight little ass right now,” Jin fell on Yoongi’s back as he came. He felt his cock pump into Yoongi with everything it had. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t used a condom. Fuck.

Yoongi came for a second time under him, but it was mostly a dribble. Jin pulled out, leaving a trail of come leaking out of Yoongi. How was he going to bring this up? Yoongi was lying on the bed looking up at him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I should go,” Jin panicked.

“Don’t you at least want to shower?” Yoongi asked.

“Um, no, I’ll just...go…” Jin looked around to see where his clothes were.

“Look, Jin,” Yoongi sat up.

“I don’t even know you and I didn’t use a condom,” he said more to himself than Yoongi.

“I’m clean. Do you want to see my test results?” Yoongi said. “Unless you aren’t?”

“Of course I am,” Jin snapped. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I think you need to calm down a little before you leave. I don’t know how far away you live, but it’s late and you’re awfully worked up to be getting home by yourself,” Yoongi told him. Jin knew he was right. He was upset that he’d been so caught up in the moment that a condom hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d never hooked up with anyone before. He’d never topped. All of this was new and his head was bordering on exploding.

“Will you at least stay until you calm down?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Jin agreed.

“Good. Now come get in bed so we can cuddle,” Yoongi pulled the soiled duvet off.

“Cuddle?” Jin looked at him.

“You don’t cuddle after sex?” Yoongi looked surprised.

“No, I guess I just, I dunno,” Jin sat back on the bed.

“If you think too much more, your head is gonna explode,” Yoongi smiled at him.

“This is all new to me,” he told Yoongi.

“Then I’ll be big spoon. Lie down,” Yoongi said gently. Jin gingerly lied down in the bed and Yoongi got behind him. He wrapped his arms around Jin’s chest and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Just relax,” he said.

“Okay,” before he knew it, Jin was asleep.

When Jin got home the next morning, he immediately texted his best friend.

Jin: So I kinda hooked up with someone last night

Namjoon: Whoa, you what?

Jin: Yeah, but he was super hot & we were a little drunk…

Namjoon: 🤦🏻

Jin: What?

Namjoon: Where was this hookup exactly?

Jin: His place. Twice

Namjoon: I don’t know whether to slap you or congratulate you

Jin: Slap me then congratulate me?

Namjoon: Sounds fair

Jin tossed his phone on the other end of the couch and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done this. Then his phone pinged.

Unknown Number: So this is kind of awkward, but

Jin: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Yoongi. From the bar last night. And this morning.

Jin: How did you get my number?

Yoongi: From your phone last night

Jin: You could’ve just asked

Yoongi: I know. Do you want to go out again? Like not drunk?

Jin: Sure

Yoongi: So are you free tonight?

Jin: Yeah. All I do is go to work, come home, & watch TV with my cat

Yoongi: Except when you decide to hook up with a random guy from a bar you’ve never been to

Jin: Except that. Do you want to come over here? Unless you’re allergic to cats

Yoongi: Nope. Should I bring anything?

Jin: Lube

Yoongi: 😂😂😂 can do

He was actually going to see Yoongi again. He’d been fantasizing about how his cock felt in Yoongi’s ass all day. Jin reached down and unzipped his jeans to release some of the pressure in his crotch. Fuck, the thought of Yoongi’s smooth, perfect ass in his hands again was enough to make him whimper. He quickly texted Yoongi his address and the time to meet, then opened his pants completely. He crudely spit in his palm, then rested his head on the back of the couch. He spread his legs a little as he firmly wrapped his long fingers around his shaking hardness. He replayed Yoongi’s whining in his mind. He grazed a finger over the slit, practically dripping precome. He pushed his free hand down against his thigh. He moved his hand faster, imaging Yoongi’s ass tight around his dick. A moan escaped his throat again. He pumped his cock as fast as he could, pressing against his thigh and the couch for leverage. Jin heard his phone go off, dared to look down at it, and saw it was Yoongi. That sent him over the edge. He cussed and thrust aggressively into his hand as he came. This was gonna be a hell of a night.

Yoongi showed up at the door a few hours later. He handed Jin a bag that was too big for just lube.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I felt like lube wasn’t the only thing I should bring the first time I visit,” Yoongi replied. Jin pulled out a bottle of amber liquid.

“It’s my favorite whiskey. I don’t know if you’re a whiskey drinker, but I thought you might want to give it a try,” he said.

“Thank you,” Jin smiled. “Shall I open it now?”

“Shall we start drinking on empty stomachs?” Yoongi stepped closer to Jin and hooked his thumbs in Jin’s beltloops.

“I was going to order food. Any preferences?” Jin asked, resting his hands on Yoongi’s hips.

“Got a Thai place around here? I’ve got a craving for some Pad Thai,” Yoongi inched closer to Jin’s chest.

“Does that pair well with whiskey?” Jin extended his fingers and teased his index fingers under Yoongi’s shirt. His skin was soft and warm.

“I wasn’t planning on there being much left by the time dinner got here,” Yoongi tilted his chin up and his breath grazed Jin’s lips.

“What makes you think I can drink that fast?” Jin held their bodies flush against each other.

“Nothing. I just think it would be fun to see how fast we have to put our clothes back on when the delivery guy gets here,” Yoongi smiled at him.

“I think I like that idea,” Jin pressed his lips against Yoongi’s. They tasted sweet, almost like pure sugar. He laved his tongue across the other’s lower lip. Yoongi slightly parted his lips, barely giving Jin enough space for his tongue to enter. Jin knew he was teasing him. Yoongi tried to nip at Jin’s lip and he pulled away.

“Not fair,” Yoongi pouted against Jin’s saliva slicked mouth.

“You think you’re the only tease around here?” Jin put his whole hands on Yoongi’s sides.

“I suppose I’m not,” Yoongi consented.

“Nope. You’re not,” Jin grinned.

“Should I pour us some drinks?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t exactly have cut crystal,” Jin said.

“As long as you have glasses and ice, I’ll make it work,” Yoongi told him. Jin reluctantly let go and went to the kitchen to get the glasses and a little ice. He took the opportunity to adjust himself where Yoongi couldn’t see him. He was half hard already. If he was this horny sober, they’d be completely naked and on top of each other after one drink. Not that he minded. It would make Yoongi’s little delivery guy challenge better.

“So when should I order-“ Jin stopped when he saw Yoongi casually lounging on the sofa with his shirt off.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Yoongi grinned. Jin knew he looked surprised. Forget half hard. His cock was begging to be let out. Jin bit back a whine. Yoongi smirked.

“Maybe I decided to skip the drinking and go straight to the removal of clothing,”

“The ice is melting,” Jin said, unable to tear his eyes away from the tattooed boy on his couch.

“Then go ahead and pour us some drinks,” Yoongi nodded toward the bottle on the coffee table. Jin tried to open the bottle and realized he had no idea how to get it open.

“Allow me,” Yoongi chuckled. He cracked the wax seal off the top and then twisted the cork out of the bottle like champagne.

“Oh,” Jin said.

“Fancy, right?” Yoongi smiled as he took the glasses.

“Didn’t know you were gonna bring something so classy over,” Jin laughed a little as he took a glass.

“Are you saying I’m not classy,” Yoongi clinked his glass against Jin’s.

“No, just no idea you liked fancy booze,” Jin took a sip.

“Guess you need to get to know me better,” Yoongi straddled Jin after he sat down.

“I am completely okay with that,” Jin wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s chest and kissed him.

“You’re interrupting my drinking,” Yoongi teased against Jin’s lips.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Jin said, exaggerating his words. Yoongi wrapped his arms around Jin’s shoulders, locking his cup behind Jin’s head.

“You should be,” he replied. “You should be very sorry.”

He kissed Jin deeply. Jin kissed him back, rubbing one hand on Yoongi’s thigh.

“Why are you so fucking hot?” Jin asked, holding his hand on Yoongi’s hip. Yoongi tipped his cup over Jin’s head and took a drink.

“It’s a gift,” he grinned. He leaned back and handed Jin a drink. “Speaking of gifts, perhaps you should partake of mine,” Jin took the cup and smiled.

“I wouldn’t want to be rude,” he took a drink.

“This is a date,” Yoongi adjusted himself in Jin’s lap. Jin was hoping he didn’t notice the ever growing bulge in his pants.

“One where you already have your shirt off,” Jin observed.

“Then maybe you should take yours off,” Yoongi looked down at him.

“Maybe I will,” Jin put his drink down and wrestled out of his t-shirt. He barely got it off when Yoongi kissed him again. His tongue tickled the crease between Jin’s lips. He parted them slightly and Yoongi took all the space Jin gave him. Jin carefully sucked on Yoongi’s tongue, causing him to moan into his mouth. Jin put his hands on Yoongi’s ass and pulled him up higher on his lap.

“Somebody’s excited,” Yoongi grinned.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jin replied.

“How about you order dinner and see if we can beat the delivery guy or not,” Yoongi told him as he reached between them toward Jin’s waistband. Jin grunted when Yoongi popped open the button and barely grazed his cock.

“If you would please pass me my phone,” he said. Yoongi made a display of leaning back and showing off his tattooed torso. Jin bit his lip. Yoongi smirked when he handed Jin his phone.

“Thanks,” Jin said.

“Anytime,” Yoongi unzipped Jin’s jeans a little. “Dinner?”

“Right,” Jin dialed the number and had to keep his voice steady as Yoongi nibbled at his neck. Yoongi giggled every time Jin jumped.

“How long?” he asked innocently.

“Half an hour,” Jin told him.

“Plenty of time,” Yoongi nipped at his neck one more time.

“You’re assuming I don’t want to draw it out and torture you,” Jin unbuttoned Yoongi’s jeans.

“Torture me, huh?” Yoongi completely unzipped Jin’s pants.

“I might decide to take my time with you,” Jin kissed his chin. Yoongi swung his leg off Jin’s lap and lied back on the couch. His pants were open and there was a wet spot on his underwear from the precome. Jin licked his lips.

“Tempting,” he grinned as he pulled Yoongi’s pants and underwear down. His cock whipped free, pink and pulsing.

“Change your mind?” Yoongi asked.

“No, I’m still gonna fuck you. I just want to take in the view first,” Jin replied. Yoongi stretched his arms over his head so he was on full display for Jin. If he hadn’t been hard before, Jin was hard now. He quickly pulled off his own pants and stretched out on top of Yoongi, their cocks brushing against each other. Yoongi sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sensitive?” Jin teased.

“Maybe,” Yoongi replied, looping an arm around Jin’s shoulders.

“You might not last until dinner gets here,” Jin slid his palm up Yoongi’s side and cupped his chin in his hand.

“Was that a challenge?” Yoongi asked.

“Mmhmm,” Jin kissed him and rutted his hips against Yoongi’s. Yoongi groaned into his mouth. Jin smiled against Yoongi’s mouth.

“Spread those legs for me, pet. I’m gonna make you cry,” he whispered.

“Yes Master,” Yoongi breathed in his ear. Jin sat up and lubed up his cock. Yoongi took his legs and spread them wide, presenting his anxious hole to Jin. He was hit with the desire to tease the quivering entrance with his mouth. Maybe later. He had all night to make Yoongi come until he couldn’t anymore. Jin hooked one of Yoongi’s legs over his shoulder and eased his cock in. Yoongi arched his back and grunted when the head popped in.

“Is that what you were waiting for, my pet? To feel me inside you again?” Jin ran his fingers down Yoongi’s cheek.

“Yes, yes I’ve wanted it,” he whined. His whines were so beautiful. Jin inched in further.

“You want more?” he reached up and took one of Yoongi’s nipples between his fingers. He carefully rolled the dark, hard bud between them. Yoongi whined and pushed himself down on Jin’s dick.

“All, I want all of you,” he said.

“Have you been good? Should I let you have all of me?” Jin teased, lightly pinching Yoongi’s nipple. He squeaked.

“Yes. I’ve been good,” Yoongi nodded. Jin smiled down at him and bottomed out without another word. Yoongi grunted and dug his fingers into Jin’s back. Jin braced his hands on the arm of the couch and gave a powerful thrust into Yoongi. He whined.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Jin asked. He thrust into him again and Yoongi whined louder. “That’s more like it.”

“Faster, please,” he moaned.

“This isn’t good enough for you, pet? You have my cock,” Jin dropped his head by Yoongi’s ear and nipped at it.

“Want...you...to pound me...” he panted.

“You want me to wreck your pretty hole on my cock? Is that what you want?” Jin licked his ear.

“Yes...yes please,” he moaned.

“Since you said please,” Jin bobbed his head and kissed him before moving Yoongi’s leg around his hip. He pulled the other one up so they were loosely crossed around his hips. Then he began to aggressively thrust into the tattooed boy below him. Yoongi was whining and begging as Jin bucked his hips.

“I’m...so...close...” Yoongi panted. Then they heard a knock on the door.

“I’m gonna need to get that, pet,” Jin said.

“But Jin,” Yoongi whined. Jin pulled out and stood up to pull on his pants, his still hard cock wet with lube and precome.

“I’ll be back. Be good,” Jin said. Yoongi gave him a pouty look as he walked to the door. The delivery guy raised an eyebrow when Jin answered the door shirtless. He made sure to tip him extra.

“Dinner’s here,” Jin brought the bag back into the living room. He almost dropped it when he saw Yoongi. He was on his side fingering himself.

“What are you...?” Jin asked.

“I didn’t want to tighten up while you were answering the door,” he grinned. Jin put the bag down and pulled his pants back off. Yoongi withdrew three fingers and lied back on his back.

“I will make you finger yourself for me at some point,” Jin told him as he entered him again.

“I’ll put on a very good show for you,” Yoongi replied as he wrapped his legs back around Jin’s hips.

“I wouldn’t accept anything less,” Jin replied and punctuated it with a thrust. Yoongi grunted and pushed his head back into the arm of the couch.

“Good pet,” Jin chuckled.

“Mmph, yes Master,” Yoongi replied, adjusting himself on Jin’s cock. Jin thrust hard into his partner, eliciting a loud moan.

“Are you still close?” he purred.

“Very,” Yoongi gasped. “Please, finish me.”

“I already made you wait once, so I’ll be nice. This time,” Jin took Yoongi’s hips and thrust him hard onto his cock. He clawed at Jin’s forearms when he came, hot come spilling on his torso. Jin worked him through the orgasm, carefully hitting his prostate each time. Yoongi squirmed and whined under him. Jin felt his own orgasm begin to rise as Yoongi shuddered around his cock. He tightened his grip on Yoongi’s hips and let himself go. His dick pumped hard into Yoongi’s ass, this time not concerned that there wasn’t a condom. He held on to the waves of pleasure before finally finishing and collapsing on Yoongi’s sticky chest.

“Good?” Yoongi asked, kissing the top of Jin’s head.

“Very good,” he replied.

“So, I was thinking...” Yoongi started.

“Yeah?” Jin asked.

“Well, we obviously have great sex and I did enjoy talking to you before we got really drunk and fucked,” he said. Jin propped his chin up on Yoongi’s chest.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Yoongi replied.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” Jin replied. Yoongi broke out into a wide smile.

“I dunno about you, but I’m starving. Shall we eat and then I fuck this tight little ass of yours again?” Jin said.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Yoongi agreed. “Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Jin grinned.

#minors dni #bts yoonjin #bts fanfic #bts smut

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broodybuck · 9 months ago

Text

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room | Series Part 3

Series Summary: At a strip club, Steve figures out one of the dancers is homeless. He offers him the guest room in his home along with anything else he wants. He offers to take care of Bucky. Even though Bucky can't understand why.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, sugar daddy Steve Rogers, stripper Bucky Barnes, age difference, no powers AU, daddy kink, dom Steve Rogers, sub Bucky Barnes

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1] [PART 2]

Bucky hasn't enjoyed waking up in someone's arms in forever. He used to feel suffocated by the men who would hold him at night. Somehow, Steve's arms feel a lot nicer.

He feels Steve untangle himself and press a soft kiss into his hair. It must be early, there's barely any light in the room. Steve removes himself from the bed. When the bathroom door closes, Bucky checks the time and sees it's almost six in the morning. He falls back asleep after that.

He ventures downstairs a few hours later and finds Steve sipping coffee on the couch while reading the newspaper. Bucky walks over and sits next to him.

He doesn't fit himself into Steve's arms, he's not sure if he's just allowed to now. So he pretends to be busy on his phone but he's aimlessly scrolling just waiting for some attention.

Steve lowers the newspaper, puts his mug down on the coffee table, and folds the paper in half twice. Bucky places his phone on the coffee table as well then meets Steve's eyes.

"Good morning," Steve smiles.

Before Bucky can even return a word, a buzz sounds. Bucky's phone lights up from the coffee table with the caller, "Strip Club".

Shit.

They watch the call continue to buzz in a tense beat of silence.

"I thought you quit?" Steve's staring at the phone too.

Bucky's stomach drops.

The club has been calling every day now wondering if he's well enough to come back in. They're low on dancers, they're always low. Bucky's been avoiding their calls, avoiding the inevitable.

"You didn't quit, did you?" Steve accuses.

Bucky's face goes hot.

"I was getting to it but..."

"Quit today or you won't be allowed to stay here," Steve demands, crossing his arms. "It's what we agreed."

"Okay," Bucky agrees quietly.

"I want to hear the call."

"What?"

"I can't have you lying to me, Bucky. Call them in front of me or move out."

"Okay, okay. I'll call right now."

Bucky picks up his phone and calls the club back. His face burns with Steve's gaze piercing into the side of his face.

Bucky stammers through the call, telling his former boss he found something else, he's quitting. his boss tries to reason with him, offer him a little more money, some better stage times, but Bucky refuses.

He hangs up the phone and keeps his eyes trained down. Steve's still staring at him.

"I wish you wouldn't have lied to me."

"Technically, you never asked," Bucky murmurs. He peaks over. Steve's glare only hardens. "Sorry."

Steve sighs and looks forward.

"Please don't kick me out yet, I can make it up to you."

"No," Steve puts a hand up. "You don't owe me anything, Bucky. Do you get that? This arrangement isn't meant to put you in debt to me."

"I know, right... sorry."

"You just need to promise me you won't lie — or omit anything else. If you're not happy here or not comfortable with something, you have to tell me or this doesn't work."

"I will, I promise."

Steve takes a long breath in and then nods.

Bucky lets out his first breath of relief.

"Alright. If we're moving forward then there's something I'd like to discuss."

"Okay," Bucky says worriedly.

"Now that we've agreed to a sexual relationship, I would prefer you not see anyone else."

"Like to fuck?" Bucky asks. Steve's eyes narrow at his language. "Sorry."

"Yes, I'd prefer it if no one else touches you but me."

The possessiveness makes Bucky want to shudder. He nods a bit dumbly.

"Good. And I won't be seeing anyone else either," Steve assures him.

"Cool," Bucky says a second before it hits him, "so, does that mean we can fu—have sex now?"

Steve's expression remains calm as the tiniest smile stretches on his face.

"Yes, we can."

Bucky stands but halts confused when Steve doesn't make a move.

"Go to the master bedroom, undress, and wait for me on the bed."

Bucky nods and half stumbles out of the living room.

Bucky's lying on Steve's bed, naked, waiting for Steve. When he hears the door open, his skin shivers in excitement.

Steve does the same routine of taking his sweet time with each step to the bed. This man has all the patience in the world, Bucky's decided, and he hates that.

Steve's weight makes the bed dip, he leans over Bucky and softly brushes his hair out of his face. Bucky's eyes flutter shut a moment.

"I like you like this."

"Naked?" Bucky huffs.

"Compliant," Steve corrects.

It makes Bucky swallow a hard lump in his throat.

"Well, I—"

"You don't need to talk back," Steve cuts him off. It makes Bucky blush hard for some reason. His cock twitches too.

Steve notices the movement and peers down his body.

"Eager, are we?" Steve comments.

"Uh-huh."

"I think we're forgetting something," Steve caresses his face with a fond smile. Bucky has no clue what he's forgetting. "It's okay, I'll forgive it this time but in the future, I'd like you to address me properly."

"Oh... um, right. Sorry... daddy," Bucky murmurs, feeling embarrassed the first time he says it.

It's a weird thing to be shy about because Bucky's had men make the request before. He's actually uttered "daddy" in bed more times than he can remember. But for some reason, this feels different with Steve. It feels real and like it matters. He wants Steve to take charge, to take care of him — he can't explain it, but Steve is his daddy. Not like those other men who tried to claim it.

"Good boy."

Steve's deep tone pulls Bucky back from his thoughts and he keens from the praise again.

"Do you want me to touch you now?"

"Obviou—" Bucky stops the snarky remark coming out of his mouth. "Yes, daddy."

Steve snaps back to him with a pleased smile. For that, he rewards Bucky with a kiss. It's slow and sensual. Nothing like the kiss from last night. They're both good, Bucky thinks as Steve pulls away.

"You're learning," Steve smiles. "What a good boy."

Bucky shudders from it this time.

"You like that one," Steve whispers as his hand cups Bucky's balls then slides up the shaft and rolls his palm around the head.

Bucky arches up off the bed, moaning low. Steve takes his hand away and trails his fingers up and down Bucky's thighs as Bucky lowers himself back down.

He huffs out a breath watching Steve trace his skin, waiting for more.

Steve takes his time. Bucky's already catching on that this will be a definite thing when they fuck from now on. If it wasn't so thrilling, he'd be more mad.

He kinda sees the hype, it's like the waiting and teasing makes the orgasm all the more worth it in the end.

Of course, Bucky starts to rethink that after Steve's takes half an hour to open him up.

"Steve— I mean..." Bucky huffs. His face is red, skin beaded in sweat. "Daddy — please, I'm ready."

"Hhm," Steve considers like he's not sure. He keeps pumping three fingers into him, hitting that sweet spot then not hitting it. God, it's infuriating — it's glorious.

Finally, Steve decides it's time and pulls his fingers free. He coats his cock with more lube and for a good half a minute he kneels in front of Bucky stroking his own cock, just looking at him like he's taunting him with it. Is he going to fuck him or not.

Bucky bites his lip, it shouldn't be doing so much for him, he should be beyond fed up by now but he's not.

Steve inches closer, prodding at his hole with the head of cock. He's leaking precum. At least, it's nice to know he's been having to hold back too.

Steve spreads a palm over Bucky's stomach, rubs it around with a glint in his eye.

Bucky wants to plead again but he's already trying not to do that so much, he swears he's begged ten times already.

His patience gets rewarded with Steve's cock and when he pushes all the way in, god it's so fucking worth it. Bucky's mind blurs from being filled.

Steve leans down to kiss him, not moving.

"How's that feel, darlin?" Steve asks.

Bucky nods, eyes fluttering closed.

"Good... good, daddy."

Steve kisses him once more then pulls back and thrusts forward one time, fast and hard.

"Fuck— oh, sorry, —shit. I didn't mean to curse... I swear," Bucky babbles.

"It's alright, honey. I'll let it slide when I have my cock inside you, I know how much you can feel this," Steve says. He circles his hips then draws them back and slams into him again.

"Fuck — sorry."

"You can curse in the bedroom," Steve allows.

"Thank god— oh!"

Steve begins a steady motion of fucking him. When he hits his prostate Bucky lets out a broken gasp, his eyes wide. Steve does it again, harder.

"Right there, daddy," Bucky whines. He's never said that in the bedroom before. He grabs onto Steve as the older man keeps repeating the motion. Then his thrust becomes fluid and fast, his cock seamlessly pounding pleasure through him with every thrust.

Bucky whines, holding him tighter, closing his eyes.

Steve starts pressing wet kisses up to his jaw.

"I'm so glad you wanted this, honey," Steve husks in Bucky's ear. "Been getting myself off to the thought of you all this time."

Bucky moans in response, his breathing more unsteady than before.

"This feels right," Steve continues. "You were made to take me, darlin'. I fit inside you perfectly."

Steve slows down to make each stroke longer and deeper. Bucky whines again, his legs curling tighter around Steve's waist as he keeps taking his cock.

"Don't you think so, sweetheart?" Steve whispers and picks the pace back up, fucking him harder again.

Bucky nods, he's so close, it's hard to get any words out.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck. Meant... for you," Bucky answers in a haze. He's about to come, he knows he is.

Steve must know it too because he takes a hold of Bucky's cock and starts rubbing under the head, leans down and swallows the moans that fall out of his mouth in a filthy kiss. Bucky comes all over Steve's fingers.

Steve keeps fucking him through it. Right when it's starting to be too much, Steve pulls back with a low groan.

"God, been waiting to come in this sweet ass since the first moment I saw you."

Bucky arches back and whines.

"Come in me, daddy," Bucky pleads.

Steve must like that because his next few thrusts feel erratic and hard. He groans loudly until his hips stop short and Bucky feels a hot rush inside him. Feels Steve's thick cock pulsing with every spurt until he's done.

Steve's chest heaves over him, he sits inside him for a moment. Then like a light switch, he's pulling out, scooping Bucky up into his arms, and swaddling Bucky into his chest.

"How was that?" Steve asks.

Bucky huffs out an incredulous laugh. He's going to have to answer this every time, he realizes.

"Perfect, daddy."

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stucky series #stucky smut #series part 3

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not-quite-there-myself · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I think that my req wasn’t sent because of Tumblr’s technical reasons so… Please ignore it if you’ve received the previous one.

Firstly, I want to say that I’ve read all of the fan-fictions that were published here since the first day of this blog being even created. I monitor the food fantasy tag every single day because I’m really starving for any content dedicated to this game like a wild hungry animal so when I saw this blog I was so happy! I felt such a pure sense of joy that I almost cried out loud lmao. Thank you for your hard work! Love this blog.

And secondly. If it’s okay, can I request like any work with Whisky x reader? I’d want it to be fluffy, romantic and sweet but that’s literally Whisky so it’s pretty hard to write something normal with him… That’s why I don’t want to put limits on you. Just do as you wish about everything. I just want to read anything about this crazy man.

I hope that I’m not bothering and causing any discomfort. Sorry for being so talkative and annoying! Have a good day.

Sweater Weather

Synopsis: Autumn was just around the corner when you and Whiskey decided to take a walk. It was mostly his idea; after seeing you busying yourself with restaurant preparations, he thought that you deserved a small break from your duties and spend some time with him... But is that really all he's after? Notes: 800+ words; romantic(ish?) fluff; ambiguous ending; gender neutral Master Attendant A/N: No need to worry anon, you are not causing me any discomfort or annoyance. If anything, I’m so happy I’m not the only one looking through the Food Fantasy tag! I had no idea how to do this request but I tried my best to make it as "romantic" as I could without breaking too much character. Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy.

The leaves of most trees began to change colour and fall, cluttering the cobblestone streets with signs that winter was next to appear. The days throughout the week were cloudy, but today that was not the case.

"It's a perfect day to take a walk, wouldn't you say?"

Whiskey had invited himself into your quarters that morning, pulling you away from your work. You raised a brow at him, questioning what exactly he wanted from you to prompt him to ask such a thing out of the blue. He feigned a look that suggested he was hurt by your words, even putting a hand over his chest to express something akin to heartache.

"My Attendant, you wound me. Can't someone simply ask you to step away from your work and get some fresh air? I hear today is a wonderful time for that."

You look out a window to see for yourself. He was right about that, and you felt all the more suspicious about him. But then, what harm would it do to step away from your desk for a while? Nothing specific struck you as odd.

Eventually, you just sighed and gave in. "Alright, alright. I guess I wouldn't mind stretching my legs anyway."

To your surprise, Whiskey had already prepared your jacket and shoes, as well as a scarf you found unfamiliar. "Whiskey," you say, taking it and looking at him. "This isn't mine."

He smiles. "Of course it isn't. But you can have it, if you'd like." When you ask him what he meant by that, he ignores your query and gingerly takes the scarf from your hands. He then proceeds to wrap it around your neck.

"Ah- Whiskey, I can do it myself..." You mumble.

"Of course you can," he replies.

You huff as you begrudgingly let Whiskey assist you in getting ready to go out. It was as if you were a toddler. But the way he treated you so far was unusually soft...

You pushed back your train of thought as soon as Whiskey put his hand on the door's knob and escorted you out first. "After you," he motions with a slight bow. You nod and exit the restaurant, Whiskey closing the door when the two of you are outside.

After a while of walking, you found yourself less tense... Well actually, you only really knew that because Whiskey pointed it out to you. He would mention several things about you as the two of you ventured out into the chilly autumn day. Fallen leaves crunching under your feet and the occasional attempts at conversation were the only things you really heard.

Eventually, Whiskey's words got increasingly flattering, and you halted in the middle of the side walk just to ask, "Whiskey, what is up with you today? What you're saying... you don't really mean that, so what are you trying to do?"

He stops as well, turning to you and pushing up his glasses. "My Attendant, do you really think I'm up to no good?" His expression doesn't falter when you nod. "Ah... I see." He continues walking and you can't help but call after him.

"Hey! You didn't answer my question!" You half-run to catch up beside him; he's quite the fast walker, and the only reason why you didn't notice was because he'd been slowing down his pace to match your casual stride. "Whiskey, tell me straight. First you're entering my quarters and asking me to walk with you, then you help me get ready, which, you know I can definitely do on my own, and now you're complimenting me." Now that you said it all out loud you kind of felt embarrassed, your face warming.

"It almost feels like you're trying to ask me out or something." But that's silly, because it's Whiskey and he doesn't like anyone that way, nevermind just liking people in general.

"And what if I am?" He says nonchalantly. Whiskey stops walking again when you fall slightly behind him.

"Huh?" You stare at him. He's probably joking.

Without warning Whiskey leans closer to your face, a small smirk appearing on his face as he repeats himself, "And what if I am?"

Absolutely flabberghasted and speechless you are.

The audacity of this man.

You can't believe him, and yet you can at the same time. Maybe he was being genuine. You weren't really sure. It is Whiskey though, so no one would blame you for not being sure. But in your chest your heart sped up, your face warmed, and, despite the chill in the air, your hands started to sweat. Your mouth opened and closed as if to say something, but you remained tongue-tied as Whiskey chuckled lowly at your reaction.

He steps back from you to let you relax and ponders aloud, "Could it be that you finally believe me now, My Attendant?"

You believe him.

#nqt writing #food fantasy #ff whiskey #ff master attendant #fluff

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 2 years ago

Note

Your requests are open :D

May I please request something fluffy with Tyelko? Ooh something romantic, mayhaps? And clichè... like getting caught in the rain. Perhaps during a hunting trip, the weather turned unexpectedly. It's sunny, bright, and blue, to suddenly thunder crashing and rain pouring so hard they can't see very far in front of them and they run for cover under the biggest, tallest tree they can find

Maybe they kiss idk 👀

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this! And thanks for taking the time to read my request :)

Tasarë - Celegorm x reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Reader and Tyelko get caught in an unexpected downpour when out in the forest.

Tags: Fluff!!!

Author’s note: All aboard the simp train. I really enjoyed writing this one, hope you like it anon!🍃✨

It had been well in the afternoon when he had asked you to join him on his trip into the forest, to show you a deer and its fawn.

You had always thought his trips were exclusively about hunting and bringing home some sort of trophy, that was why you never really found interest in joining him whenever he rode out.

Today, however, there was a certain urgency in his voice, a glimmer in his silver eyes when he had asked you. You had simply felt compelled to come along. And so you had found yourselves riding on your horses, racing each other to the forest, cheering and laughing all the while. For some reason you felt like your energy had rubbed off on your horse, for it seemed to gallop with a certain step that was new to you — and for the first time, you felt excited to be going on this trip with him, venturing into the unknown.

When you reached the forest, he told you to get off your horse and follow him by foot instead to not disturb the fawn. You snuck up to a small hidden clearing and crouched down behind a log of wood, waiting for the fawn to show itself. Time passed slowly, but you didn’t mind. Leaning on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and just relished in his company, listening to the birds singing their songs in the distance. Until he nudged you and silently gestured towards the clearing, bringing a finger up to his lips to remind you not to make a sound. Your eyes fell on a deer carefully entering the clearing, sniffing around the high grass. It was when the fawn emerged slowly from its hiding place, stepping outside of the tall grass and brought its dark nose to meet its mother’s, when they widened, never having witnessed something like this before. The small display of affection warmed your heart and you turned your head to your right, meeting Tyelko’s loving gaze, a small smile on his lips. You’d never seen him like this before, for some reason you had never thought he’d sit and just watch nature like his younger brothers would, an unfamiliar serenity written all over his handsome face. He was always so proud when it came to his hunting trips. To see him so silent, with a tenderness in his eyes that only you would be on the receiving end of, made you feel fuzzy inside, as this was a newfound perspective for you to see your lover. You knew hunting required patience and inner calm, but for some reason, you had always imagined his hunts to be full of adrenaline, speed and weapons — things you weren’t necessarily fond of. The overall observational aspect of it seemed to have slipped from your mind completely.

Your head found its way back onto Celegorm’s hard shoulder, snuggling into him like the fawn into its mother’s copper fur. You didn't know how long you sat like this, enjoying the sunlight in this quiet green sanctuary, hidden away from his estate and all the stress and errands that came with being there. You could see how liberating it was to ride out and come back when the sun was about to set. Him and his brothers were free spirits, bound to Yavanna and the beauty of her creations, always longing to be held in her embrace, to be caressed by the aromas of her flowers in full bloom, smiling at every living creature that passed them by. You felt honored to be able to witness him in his true form, in sync with the flora and fauna around him, applying the knowledge his surroundings and Oromë the Forester had taught him whenever he would dwell in these woods. Both of you seemed to be so engrossed in the wholesome interaction that was taking place in front of you that you didn’t notice the dark clouds that were beginning to creep up above you, not until they inevitably blocked the sunlight that had been streaming down on you mere seconds ago. What had started off as a few drops falling from the sky, had quickly turned into what felt like waterfalls being unleashed from above. Never before had you experienced a weather change more abruptly than this — it was like poor Nienna had suddenly been plagued by a particularly tortured soul so much that Manwë himself had felt it darken his mood, resulting in this sudden change of scenery mixed with her desperate tears raining down on you. The fawn and its mother had disappeared in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t care less. Your head was tilted towards the sky, mouth agape, releasing a surprised yell:

"Holy!"

Next to you, Celegorm started laughing at your exclamation. The sound seemed far away, growing more and more mellow with every second as the rain began pouring harder and harder.

It didn’t take long for the water to seep through your linen dress, having it stick to your body like a second skin.

Feeling his hand clasp itself around yours, you turned to look at your lover.

"Let’s get out of here!" He yelled, his rich voice struggling to keep up with the noise around you.

And so, you ran out of the clearing. You noticed how Celegorm kept pushing you behind his back so you wouldn’t run into a tree. By now, the rain had become so much that it was impairing your vision ahead. Your eyes found themselves glued to his back, more specifically the impressive muscles and shoulder blades that protruded more than ever because of his shirt sticking to his skin like your dress did to yours.

Celegorm had always been the strongest out of his brothers, evidently bulkier in size. You hadn’t thought that was even possible when you had first met his brothers — they all were so intimidatingly tall and strong, you feared they could snap anyone in half like a twig if they got on their bad side. But your silver haired ellon seemed to somehow have inherited an even more athletic build. He could probably run right through a tree and not feel a thing, you thought, smirking to yourself.

"This is insane!" You heard him call out, followed by hysterical laughter. What a wild child he was, constantly chasing the thrill Mother Nature offered him, running through these woods as if he knew them like the back of his hand. He gradually slowed down after a few moments of seemingly not so aimless running, when the silhouette of a tall willow emerged in front of you. It was an old one, having grown so very high you thought Yavanna herself could sit in its crown, watching over the entirety of this magic forest right now, giggling at the two little people who had come to seek refuge underneath her majestic tree.

You carefully stepped underneath the willow’s hanging branches — some of them so long they were touching the very ground you were walking on. You had always believed willows to be the most affectionate trees. Their branches would play with the winds in the softest motions, and yet always make sure to let the earth know how much they cherished her by caressing her so lovingly.

You now seemed to be shielded from the noise of the rain pouring outside of these branches. Apart from one or the other drop that would still land on your heads, you seemed to have made it to safety after all.

Drawing your attention to your company, you wished there was a way to capture the image in front of you for all of eternity.

He looked unreal. Ethereal. His usually long and silky silver tresses now messy and grey-looking, some of them hanging in front of his eyes, drops falling from where they covered his face. His eyes seemed to glimmer more radiantly than ever — it was like the rain reflected in them, for they looked like melted silver swirling around in circles, drawing you in. His skin appeared paler than usual because of his now darker hair, the wetness having brought out his cool undertones. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was made out of porcelain, painted so intricately. You wondered how much time Eru Illúvatar had put into creating him, for each and every part of him was perfect, otherworldly, so incredibly beautiful it took your breath away in a heartbeat.

His hand came up to run itself through his wet hair, pushing it back over his head, giving you an even better view of his glowing complexion and pointy ears that were now poking out left and right. You remembered how he had once told you about how his brothers used to tease him for having bigger ears than the rest of the family, which had always left him a bit insecure about putting his hair up or wearing it in braids that would expose his ears. However now, all you could see was the most divine being ever to have been created, each part of him looking so intentionally placed and formed to have this exact effect on anyone happening to gaze upon him.

You were snapped out of your daze when he cocked his head to the side and sheepishly grinned at you.

"You really do wear you heart on your sleeve, love," he chuckled, looking down at you fondly.

And in this moment, lightning stroke, illuminating the space behind him so piercingly, bathing his silhouette in white light and Valar, you swore you were seeing stars.

His countenance — the fairest in all of Arda.

"Oh," all air had left your lungs. You were shamelessly mesmerized, completely at his mercy, once and for all.

"Eru… Tyelkormo, you are a vision…"

The hand that had laid in his until now came up to his face, your index finger ghosting over his wet cheek, the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, eyelids that were momentarily closed because of the proximity of your finger, his full lips.

You kissed him. You kissed him and poured your entire capacity to love into it like the rain had poured itself onto you moments ago. And he kissed you back with that same passion, that same desire and longing that never seemed to be quenched, no matter how close you were to each other, no matter how tightly you held onto one another.

Neither of you seemed to notice the thunder roaring above you, louder than Huan could ever growl. Too swept away were you both, losing yourselves in the intensity of this kiss, hidden away underneath Yavanna’s watchful eye, sweet whispers and declarations of love falling from your lips like prayers — like the rain drops that fell from the sky. And it was then, when all sense of time had been lost, that Nienna seemed to find solace in the honeyed words that were uttered underneath that ancient tree. Her tears ceased to cloud her vision entirely when Manwë dried her cheeks with the sunlight which was beginning to stream down onto Arda again, timidly peaking through the willow’s branches and falling onto your faces at last.

And so, this tree became much more than a shelter. It was months after this magical afternoon that your Tyelko presented you with a silver band to be worn on your right index finger, which he had crafted with the help of his closest sibling the smith — a band as silver as his eyes when you had stood underneath that willow, its branches delicately engraved into the entire length of it in a filigree display of a love as tender and raw as these very branches caressing the earth and sky alike, wrapping themselves around your finger to lock in this love, like they did when you sought shelter between them on that fateful day. It was more than a shelter. It was a beacon of unconditional devotion, cosy togetherness.

A promise — forever.

#celegorm #tyelkormo #celegorm x reader #celegorm imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #fluff #request

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