#innuendos

[theheartneverliez]

Rolo-Ritz sandwiches

😋🤤

Yummy !

[ace-culture-is]

ace culture is feeling betrayed by society at large for letting the phrase “Netflix and Chill” become an innuendo

.

[supercap2319]

Y/N sat in the royal parlor room with Alex, Henry, and Henry's family as Henry's mother cast a glance at their two guests. Her Royal Highness Catherine spoke in a soft voice. "Y/N, Alex? You both must be famished after watching my son in his polo match. Would you fancy something to eat?"

Y/N looked at her Royal Highness and smiled politely. "Thank you, your Highness, but I've already eaten two big foot longs after the polo match."

Upon hearing that, Henry choked on the cup of tea he was currently drinking as Alex tried not to choke on the half eaten biscuit in his mouth. Henry's face was red as he had a small coughing fit as his brother, sister, and grandfather stared at him in annoyance. Once he settled down, the young Prince blushed. "Apologies. It was hot."

"That's quite alright, Henry." His mother said. "Are you sure you're not hungry, Y/N?"

He politely declined. "I'm sure your Royal Highness. They were both big and hard—I mean juicy." He took a sip of his own tea, casting a knowing look at both Henry and Alex and their foot longs.

[luffyforkingofthepirates]

One Piece: innuendos and flirting

[kuroneko1815]

The maze scene but make it silly and with innuendos

Because I always make fun of Callisto being the one to instigate the silly, I want Penelope to do it this time. This came about after re-reading that scene when they first meet and I thought… what could she say differently that was just so silly. With help from @eloise175, also… we really shouldn’t be left alone together.

Callisto holding a sword to Penelope’s throat looking menacing and mocking: Why do you love me? Go on, tell me why you fell in love with me?

Penelope: Because you’re shiny!

Callisto freezes in shock: Shiny? (He’s been called many things, most of them weren’t good but never shiny!)

Penelope thinking back to her reputation: I like shiny things and your hair looks like spun gold and your eyes look like rubies.

Callisto: ??? (Just stares at her, sword steady and level as he tries to process what happened.)

Penelope internally: Oh thank god, I can escape now. (Tries to back away subtly but is foiled.)

Callisto: What else?

Penelope thinks back to all the stereotypical western teenagers and in Korea from her world and time, all those things she studied to fit in with her new classmates at university: You’re hot.

Callisto: I’m what?

Penelope: You have a handsome face and probably a fine body under those clothes from all the training you do. It makes me drool just thinking about it and I want jump you. (Penelope in her mind: maybe I should just die, it would be better if he killed me now.)

Callisto: … (Callisto.exe has crashed; please reboot)

Callisto tries to save face: It seems more like you’re in lust with me, rather than in love.

Penelope: Is there a difference right now? I haven’t talked to you, and I’ve only seen you in passing. Love and lust are the same right now.

Penelope: Also, your voice is fine and smooth like butter.

Callisto: I don’t understand?

Penelope: It means I like your voice, it’s nice and seductive. (Penelope eyes possible exists and just keeps saying things without thinking them through.)

Penelope: You’re such a babygirl

Callisto: Did you just call me a babygirl? (Now he does feel some indignation)

Penelope: Yes I did, you know, you’re so good looking I just wanna take care of you. You’re so scrunkly.

Callisto: What does that even mean? I think you’re just making up words.

Penelope: Scrunkly, an animal or creature that’s weird or unorthodox but still so cute.

Callisto: Did you just… just call me an animal?

Penelope: Well, if you’re an animal, I think mating season has come. (Penelope is dead, very dead. She can feel her soul leaving her body with each word she says and yet she can’t stop. Still, she’s resorted to dropping innuendos in hopes that he’d be so weirded out that he’d walk away without killing her.)

Callisto is shook. He knows the adopted daughter of Eckhart was crazy but not this crazy or wanton… and yet… it was appealing and exciting.

Penelope gestures to his pants: Well, I don’t much care for the sword at my neck, but you can definitely pierce me with the one down there any time. Think of me like something to conquer. (Abort, abort, abort. She thinks desperately. Shut up.)

Despite her wishes, her mouth keeps moving, and not towards rationality, it just prolongs her torture. Death by beheading wasn’t so bad, at least she’d stop talking.

Penelope: If someone asked me what I wanted for dinner, it’s you. I’m so hungry, I want a taste.

Callisto eyes her in shock. These were not words that should be coming out of a Lady’s mouth, he didn’t think he’d ever heard phrases come out of anyone’s mouth before. It was bawdy without actually being too vulgar. He wants to be offended, he really does, but…

Penelope: Please? I’m thirsty, can I have a sip? Just a sip, please? I promise I don’t bite… much. (Penelope internally: Can I turn on that damned game system now? Please?)

Penelope: If we got stuck in a closet, one of us would be walking out pregnant, and it wouldn’t be me.

Eventually, Callisto lets her go, too surprised and shook to actually process everything, especially the last part because that wasn’t possible at all, unless she was a powerful mage. And Penelope leaves no worse for wear, except her dignity, that died a traitor’s death.

-

-

BONUS: The Cave Scene: Or Callisto gives his rebuttals because you can damn well know that he’s not letting this go and it’ll live rent free in his mind. And she’s avoided him when he tried to press her for more coherent answers, had even neglected to reply to him.

Penelope waking up in the cave: GAHH!!! Why are you naked? (Covers her eyes)

Callisto: Why are you covering you’re eyes? You wanted to see what was under my clothes anyway, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. You certainly didn't.

Penelope: You… you shameless pervert.

Callisto: Oh? I'm the pervert now? What happened to the audacious woman who kept saying such filthy things to me to seduce me?

Penelope stares at him with a look of disbelief.

Callisto: Oh? How could you be so cold to me? Aren’t I scrunkly? Aren’t I your babygirl?

Penelope: … I'm going back to sleep.

Penelope can't actually sleep and keeps having flashbacks to it, Callisto hugs her, and tells her the story. And the conversation proceeds the same. Except instead of asking her what she liked about him…

Callisto: So, is your assessment correct, Princess?

Penelope: What?

Callisto: Is my body as 'fine' as you thought? Am I really that hot?

Penelope without thinking: Yes (Realizes what she said and blushes and buries her face into his chest and then almost dies of embarrassment when she realizes what she just did)

Callisto: It certainly seems like it based on how you're reacting.

Penelope: …

Callisto: My sword is ready for the piercing and the conquests.

Penelope bites her lips unable to say anything because he’s responding to everything she’s saying. She realized he’s pulled the ultimate reverse uno on her, and weeks after the fact too.

Callisto: Are you hungry? We can have a small snack if you want. But why stop at a sip and a taste? Let’s make this into a full meal!

Penelope: …

Callisto: Perhaps my voice alone can get you ready, we’d need to mop up after we’ve spilled our drinks.

Penelope admits to herself that he does have an amazing voice. But she’s still refusing the temptation. She wants to live thank you very much.

Callisto: We’re both still overdressed it seems. We really need to read the invitations carefully. This cave has a zero clothing policy.

Penelope tries to shut him up, when he stops her from slapping him, she kisses him which was the wrong move, or maybe it was the right one? Because it eventually devolved.

Callisto when they finally stopped: Respectfully, Emperor Claudius himself couldn’t pull me out of you. (Callisto thinks of his famous ancestor, an accomplished general, who had a story about a sword in a stone who won the throne over his half brother.)

In the aftermath, Penelope would wake up in a tangle of limbs, naked, and very well ‘conquered’ by the Crown Prince. She also gets to live, survives the game and all. And… exactly nine months after that night, a little dragon like girl was born to them. They named her Judith.

But Callisto, the new Emperor had one last thing to say to his wife as they hold their new born later not even minutes after she’s handed to them: Well, it wasn’t exactly locked in a closet, but I wasn’t the one who walked out of there pregnant.

Penelope smiles sweetly at him, motions for him to come closer so she can kiss him. He leans forward eagerly, closes his eyes. Penelope taking advantage of it, shifts Judith in one hand and slaps him hard.

[naminethewriter]

Monstrously Simple Days at College

Chapter Six: Entirely Scientific Interest

Masterpost | First | Previous | Ao3

Story Summary: Humans and Monsters live together in harmony and that means they all get to go to college together. Roman, Remus, Janus, Virgil, Logan and Patton are big group of friends that may be a bit chaotic with all the different monster cultures they hail from. College itself is hard too, but with them all supporting each other, it can’t be that bad, can it?

Content Warnings: Remus starts a discussion about genitalia, comparing the differences between their monster species, it slips in some innuendos but there is no sexual content

~~*~~

Cultural Exchange is a course every single student at the college is required to take. Be they human or monster, there are no exceptions. The goal of the course is as it says in the name: to learn about the cultures of different people. The humans may only be one species, but they are so widespread that their cultures differ greatly even over relatively small distances, while there are many different species of monsters that do have some cultural differences even within their specific species but not as much variety as humans as a whole. So, there is a lot for both sides to learn.

With as many students as there are, there are several classes going on at once and thankfully for them, Roman, Remus, Logan, Janus, Virgil and Patton were all assigned to the same one. There is one big group project that everyone has to complete and that is to research one culture not represented in the group decided by drawing lots.

They got assigned sirens this time and everyone was happy with that selection. Merfolk in general tend to keep to themselves, but sirens even more so. Unlike what the legends usually say, they use their singing as a defense mechanism. With the continued intermingling of species however, an effort has been made to learn more about merfolk and in turn sirens, so there is some research for the group to fall back on.

Especially Logan and Janus are eager to learn, with the former being simply fascinated by any new knowledge and the latter because his entire nature directs him to gather as much information as possible.

Right now, Roman, Virgil, Janus, Logan and Remus are waiting for Patton in the room they have booked to plan their project. Patton has texted them his apologies for running late but offered to bring them coffee, so they had texted him their orders.

Roman and Virgil are passing the time on their phones, while Janus stares boredly off into space. Logan however is trying to get their partner to stop drawing crude pictures on the whiteboard.

“Remus, this is an inappropriate place for you to draw penises,” he sighs.

“Why’s that?” Remus asks, a smirk on its lips saying they know full well why.

“This is a classroom, meus, not your sketchbook.”

“Why does that matter?! Penises have their place in a classroom.”

Logan raises one of their eyebrows. “How so?”

“Simple anatomy, of course! And they’re different for all of us!” She begins a new drawing next to the penis he already drew. “Look, human cocks have different heads than us dragons! We’re more spear-like and they’re harder, too. Plus there’s some scales along ours.”

“Fascinating,” Logan murmurs as they closely study Remus’ drawings, apparently now fully convinced of their scientific merit.

“Aaaand, ours don’t just hang lose like we’re just begging for them to get damaged. We have sheaths.”

“I was aware of that. In fact, most monster species have them. It’s an interesting similarity between such a variety of biologies.”

“Witches are the same as humans, right?”

“Remus, do you have to ask your partner about their genitals when I’m in the same room?” Roman complains, gagging over her phone.

“It’s simple anatomy, my dear,” Janus chimes in, grinning like Cheshire cat. “Their interest is purely scientific. Weren’t you listening?” Roman gives him a blank look but doesn’t feel like commenting further, so instead she taps on Virgil’s shoulder to show them a meme she just found. Virgil looks over and pulls out on of their earbuds to talk to her about it, the two of them dissolving into their own little world.

Logan ignores their interruption and keeps their attention on Remus. “Indeed. Physically we are the same as humans, but we differ in our spiritual makeup. Though I could alter my form however I please with the right spells.”

“Oh, kinda like Janny then, right? Since you can just shapeshift at will?” Remus turns directly to Janus for that second part who’s studying his nails with disinterest now that the subject of his teasing is preoccupied.

“In a way. My form right now is not my default, and I can have pretty much any parts I want.”

“Truly fascinating,” Logan says as they lean closer, watchful eyes studying Janus’ form. “I was aware of this being a chosen form but not to what extent.”

“Well, it’s not like I can do whatever I want,” Janus clarifies, fully turning towards them. “I can’t change my hair color or grow my limbs longer. But since we sphynxes don’t really have a sex as most others, I’m not as restricted there.”

“But most sphynxes are perceived to be women, right?” Logan wonders, tilting his head as he tries to recall whatever information he has read about them so far.

“Most of my kind would choose ‘woman’ as the label for them before ‘man’, yes. But few actually care. I am pretty much an outlier there.”

“You’re so lucky you don’t have to worry about STDs and pregnancy shit,” Remus sighs. “Interspecies protection is such a hassle to keep track of.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t have to worry about such things?” Logan asks, their brow furrowed.

“Well, you know how we don’t really know how sphynxes reproduce, right? They keep it this big secret for only them to know.” Remus waits for Logan to nod before continuing its explanation. “Since they do it in that mysterious way we don’t know about, they are completely incompatible with our reproduction systems, so they can’t get pregnant, can’t get anyone else pregnant and don’t even contract the diseases that correlate to genitals.”

“My form is simply an imitation on the most basic level,” Janus adds, grinning at Logan’s stumped expression. “On a genetic level, I am completely different from you. We don’t have the same cells at all. So I can’t get sick with most of the common diseases or really transfer them either.”

“I will need to have an in-depth discussion with you on this subject sometime,” Logan insists, their eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

“Earn it,” Janus says simply. They are all used to the sphynx’s challenges, so Logan’s face simply morphs from curious to determined and he nods.

“I will.”

Remus meanwhile grew bored of their conversation and hones in on his brother’s other partner.

“Hey, Virgy! What about yours?”

“What about my what?” Virgil asks, not having paid much attention since they were focused on Roman.

“Your penis!” Remus calls delighted, hoping to get a fun reaction. Behind Virgil, Roman pulls a face but doesn’t try to interject again.

Virgil pauses for a moment, staring at Remus who simply stares back.

“Why do you think I have one?”

They actually manage to dumbfound Remus with that one as it takes it a second to respond.

“You don’t?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. How would you know, you’ve never seen me naked.”

“You offering?” Remus grins, having recovered quickly but Virgil simply shows them the finger. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“Stop trying to get at my partners’ private parts, Remus!” Roman groans. “Can we change the topic, please?”

“Just don’t engage, darling, you’re only going to rile her up more,” Janus purrs, hopping off of the table he’s been lounging on. He walks over to his partners and leans closer to Roman, grinning. “Instead, let’s talk about when you’re going to taste my dust again.”

Roman slips her phone back into her pocket to fully focus on her boyfriend immediately.

“Oh, please, you won last time only because I wasn’t feeling well then.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dear. Maybe you’ll believe it eventually,” Janus teases, his wings shuddering behind him in anticipation of another flying race already. Roman’s wings similarly shift behind her, though she is careful with the left practically leaning on Virgil, who looks at them, annoyed.

“Not this again,” they groan. “Just leave me out of it, please.”

“But we need a referee, sweetheart!” Janus pouts dramatically and not at all sincerely. “You can’t just leave us hanging!”

“Oh please,” Virgil scoffs, pushing Janus away from them when he tries to lean closer to them with his puppy eyes. Janus is rooming with Patton, he’s learned a lot about looking like a kicked puppy, but Virgil wouldn’t be swayed. “You don’t listen to me anyway and 9 out of 10 times you need photographic evidence to see who won. I am utterly unnecessary.”

“How dare!” Roman gasps, taking Virgil’s phone out of their hand to grab it instead and hold it close. “How could my wonderful knight ever think they’re unnecessary! You are most integral, no matter what! Even if your presence is simple moral support, you’re doing your part!”

Virgil’s face turns slightly purple and they pull their hand back, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. They look over to Remus and Logan, hoping they weren’t paying attention and thankfully they weren’t as they were now discussing what looked like a drawing of an anatomically correct heart.

“You could also just join the race. Maybe your speed has increased since the last time,” Janus teases and Virgil’s head snaps back to him, the purple tint on their cheeks becoming stronger.

“Oh, shut up,” they grumble.

“Stop teasing them, Janus,” Roman chides lightly, but her grin shows that she’s enjoying teasing their partner just as much. “Their bat form is just not made for racing.”

“It would definitely win an adorableness contest though.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Virgil whines, hiding in the collar of their cloak.

“Uhhhh, what are we teasing the emo about?” Remus asks as it bounds over, grinning delightedly.

“Remus,” Logan sighs but doesn’t otherwise interfere.

“You don’t get to tease, that’s partner privilege,” Roman says, sticking her tongue out at her brother who returns the gesture.

“We were talking about racing actually, Remus. Want to join sometime?” Janus offers and Remus’ eyes brighten immediately.

“Fuck yeah!”

“Nooo, you’re just going to cheat!”

“Am not!”

“So are!”

“I guess we do need you to referee after all, darling,” Janus purrs at Virgil with a sly smile as the twins continue to bicker and Logan tries fruitlessly to get them to stop.

Thankfully for them, that’s when the door opens and Patton finally tumbles in.

“Sorry, kiddos!” he huffs, placing the palette of coffee orders on a table. “The coffee shop was super full and the barista looked on the verge of tears so I offered to help her out for a few minutes until the line was under control. But I got a nice discount on the drinks and a bagel as a thank you!”

“Thank you for buying us coffee, Patton,” Logan says as he grabs the cup marked for him, as well as Remus’. The others also say their thanks as the drinks get distributed and they all enjoy a few sips.

“Oh yeah, Pat! I have a question!” Remus announces suddenly.

“Sure, kiddo, shoot!”

“Is your dick furry?”

“Oh, for the love of gold, Remus! Shut up!”

[imagine-darksiders]

Eden's Heir, chapter 3.

A Way Out

Words: 6219

Summary: You're not on Earth, and that truth is as devastating as it is implausible. You have to get out of this Void. But there's only one demon who can offer an exit. Unfortunately for you, there's also a certain Horseman who' deems it necessary to keep you close, for curiosity's sake.

----

There is very little dignity in fear.

When allowed to fester, even the tiniest pinch of it will start to bulge and swell inside you until it’s too large to be contained by the churning walls of your stomach. So, instead, it spreads through your bloodstream, eating up the space inside you like an infection as it strips away reason, humanity, and even hope.

Especially hope.

You’re not proud that the unexpected knowledge of your true whereabouts sends you into an immediate downward spiral of terror, but in the absence of any better ideas, you think it’s at least a little justified that you promptly stagger away from the otherworldly beings, drop to your backside on the cold, hard ground, gather your knees to your chest and proceed to come apart right there in front of an honest-to-goodness demon, and two Horsemen of the Apocalypse…

You’d always heard that wedding days are enormously stressful, but this is just ridiculous.

You’ve retreated to the precarious edge of Vulgrim’s plateau, not close enough that you’re worried about accidentally toppling over into the misty void, but at least far enough from War, Strife and the leery merchant that at least a diminutive fraction of your unease is lifted.

The blood on your arm has already dried to dark, crackling flakes, and it’s through unseeing, bulging eyes that you stare at the raised line of flesh wrapped in an arc over your forearm.

There’s one startling realisation plaguing your mind more emphatically than any other.

This isn’t Earth. This isn’t Earth.

A whirling onslaught of fresh, new terrors start to haunt you, terrors you’ve never even had to think about until now. You can’t find a voice for all the questions that clutter your mind. And you don’t pay much attention to the set of watchful, amber eyes that have remained glued to you ever since you stumbled dazedly over to the fringe of the floating platform.

Strife is abuzz with questions of his own, questions he’d readily bombard you with were it not for the vacant stare you’re currently aiming at the wound his brother left across your delicate flesh.

Grimacing, the older Nephilim twists himself sideways, keeping one eye on you and the other on War and the demon, both of whom seem more eager than Strife to turn the conversation back to other matters. Namely, business.

“Now then,” Vulgrim announces, clicking the tips of his long, curved claws together in eager anticipation, “I think it’s safe to assume you boys haven’t come here just to have me confirm the identity of this lost, little human…”

War’s lip curls unpleasantly, as if the mere act of even speaking to the merchant turns his stomach. Vehement, he growls, “Our work doesn’t concern you, demon.”

But Vulgrim, ever discerning, simply draws his mouth upwards to reveal the gleaming maw of fangs that sit crookedly behind his lips – a mocking reflection of War’s sneer.

“Oh, but it must,” the demon drawls knowingly, “Why else would you be here?”

War’s expression further twists as if he’s tasting poison on his tongue, and Strife has to stifle a smirk.

Drawing himself up a little closer to the demon’s height, War bites out, “Samael sent us here…” Trailing off to look Vulgrim up and down, he narrows his eyes and adds, “Maybe it was to collect your head.”

Far from threatened however, the conniving demon merely raises a single, slender finger and wags it back and forth in a manner that sets War’s teeth on edge.

“Ah ah ah~” he admonishes, “Careful, Horseman… Show the right temperament and I can be of… service to you. But first, you must be of service to me.”

Strife has to resist the urge to throw his head back and groan. He probably ought to have seen this coming a mile off.

Can’t spend five minutes in the presence of a demon without them angling for a favour…

War, it seems, has also cottoned on to the merchant’s less than subtle hint.

The Horseman’s armoured shoulders almost double in size as he bristles angrily, spitting, “The Council does not negotiate with demons. If you try to take advantage of them-“

“-And by extension, us-!” Strife chimes in.

“-Then there will be consequences.”

His latest threat complete, War narrows his ice-blue glare up at the hovering demon, who, to his dismay, only barks out a dark, mocking laugh and spreads his gangling arms out wide, as if to invite the Horseman to carry out the Council’s apparent ‘consequences.’

“Your Council has no power here,” Vulgrim drones, eyes as sharp as a whetted blade, “This realm is mine, and therefore subject to my rules. If anything were to happen to me, it would certainly prove tragic for you. You’d be trapped here in the void. For all of eternity.”

Strife’s trigger finger twitches of its own accord. He loathes that the demon has a point.

Just then, from the corner of his gaze, the eagle-eyed Horseman catches the rapid movement of your head snapping upright.

Curious as to what’s drawn you from your catatonic state, Strife swivels his helm in your direction, perking up when he sees you clambering awkwardly to your feet, struggling to move your puffy skirts aside.

He’d welcome you back to the present, but your stare is fixed with disconcerting precision on the demon floating behind him.

“Wait, wait a second,” you fumble out in a rush, taking a single, daring step closer, your cheeks still glistening with tears, “What did you say? Y-You’re the only one who can get me out of here?”

The mention of an exit… The hint of an escape…

A tiny flutter of hope drifts free of your soul and you latch onto it with greedy hands, like a child snatching at a butterfly, desperate.

It’s the only force in the world that could lure you closer to the titanic Horseman and their implausible acquaintance. That first, tentative step turns into several more, though you’re quick to freeze in place when three pairs of eyes flick in your direction, sending a rush of adrenaline racing up your spine.

You’ve never felt more like prey in your life.

The demon’s stare especially unnerves you. It seems to eat right into you like acid, hungry and all-consuming. His mouthful of teeth holds your focus as he lifts blackened lips into what you can only assume is a terrible grin.

“Now do I have your attention?” he asks smugly, tossing his gaze back over to the Horsemen, neither of whom give you the impression that they’re as hopeful about the latest revelation as you are.

After a moment, War bunches his hands into fists and tears his eyes from you, turning to glare down the merchant instead. Strife’s attention, however, remains locked on you for a further second before he too throws a dark look up at the grinning Vulgrim.

A shaky breath gushes past your lips once you’re no longer in their sights. It feels as though you’ve just been released from a cast of stone. For just a moment, you spare an absent thought to those Greeks of ancient myth who stared down the legendary gorgon, Medusa. You think you might finally understand, at least a little, what such a fate must have been like. The power of a predator’s gaze is not to be underestimated; it seems.

Vulgrim is still leering right back at the Horsemen with an awfully superior smirk plastered across his cragged jaws, a look that has Strife’s jaw clenching.

“Patience ain’t my brother’s thing,” he growls, “Or mine, now that I think about it… So, whatever point you’re trying to make, make it.”

The demon’s smirk shrinks at the curt tone, but nonetheless, he inclines his head and begins to explain. “Fine. The Lords of Hell are forever in conflict,” he says, “They seek power. Control… Lucifer and Samael most of all…”

You can’t help yourself from jumping in with an embarrassing squeak of alarm. “Lucifer!?” you parrot, once again earning their attention, “A-As in, like, the Devil? Satan!?”

In the span of a second, Strife’s irritation at Vulgrim lifts to make way for amusement at your interruption. “You know another Lucifer?” he quips, grinning down at you from behind his visor, “Big guy won’t be happy someone’s tryin’ to steal his thunder.”

A wave of anxious heat surges up the back of your neck and you throw a hand up to curl trembling fingers around a fistful of hair. “Oh my god!” you blurt, chest heaving, “Is this Hell!? Am I in Hell right now!?”

In response, Strife lets out a rough snort whilst Vulgrim merely offers you a shake of his great, ghastly head. “I’m afraid not,” the demon laments, casting a morose glance at the void surrounding his lonely plateau, “Sadly, Hell is several planes south of this one.”

For several, arduous seconds, you can do nothing but stare up at him in incredulous silence as your brain chugs along slowly, attempting to wrestle with the bombshell that not only does the Devil purportedly exist, but so too does Hell itself. You’re looking right at a demon, after all. It would stand to reason that a place of perdition exists too.

In contrast to the magnitude of the knowledge you’ve just been made privy to, a thin, rasping, “What?” is all that creaks out of your throat.

The question is answered by a low huff from War, who fixes you in his stern glower and rumbles, “This does not concern you, human.”

Gulping, you retreat a step back, almost tripping over your dress in the process as your eyes flit up to the broadsword strapped across the behemoth’s back. Your mouth dries at the very fresh memory of what he’d done to you the last time he paid you any attention.

Unbeknownst to you, Strife’s ears twitch at the click of your heeled shoes on the stone, and the catch in your breath.

Folding a pair of heavily armoured arms across his sizeable chest, he too takes a step away from War before ambling sideways, parking himself stubbornly between you and his brother like a living, breathing blockade.  “Hey, come on. Lay off,” he retorts, jutting the chin of his helm out at War, “She’s just as lost here as we are.”

Just like that, the younger Nephilim’s expression shifts, his hardened expression lifting to a quizzical look that he aims at his brother, as if even he hadn’t expected Strife to come to your defence.

Still, despite his surprise, he’s quick to recover his wits.

You, in the meantime, can only stare agape at the armoured expanse of a back suddenly standing in your way.

“We are not lost,” War insists, furrowing his brow, “We’ve just been waylaid.”

“On the contrary, Horseman…” Vulgrim’s slimy tone encourages War’s expression to darken even further. Raising a slender finger into the air, the demon continues, “You are both precisely where you need to be.”

With a quiet scoff, Strife shifts his weight onto the opposite leg, throwing Vulgrim a nasty glare. “Figures you’d know more than you’ve been letting on…”

You almost jump a mile when War gnashes his teeth at the merchant and booms, “Out with it! You know why we were sent here. I demand that you tell us!”

“Demand…” Vulgrim clicks his tongue derisively, but after a moment, he concedes to heave his shoulders into a shrug and rolls his green eyes towards the foggy void above him. “Oh, very well,” he sighs, “Samael sent you here because he has learned that Lucifer is attempting something… unexpected.”

The mention of the latter’s name nearly sends you scampering back to whimper at the edge of the abyss.

Plainly oblivious to the nausea churning in your guts, Vulgrim continues, “He is extending a hand to his enemies, Horsemen. Offering something very desirable in exchange for their…. cooperation.”

“And Moloch is one of those enemies,” Strife hedges, though his tone indicates that it’s far from a question.

Suddenly, Vuglrim drifts backwards, a move that has you ducking into the shadow of the metal titan standing with his back to you, but the demon pays your flinch no mind, simply folding his lanky arms across his chest and cocking a sly grin down at Strife.

“Ah, nothing in the world is without cost,” he tells the Horseman, voice dripping with pompous bile, “If you wish to know more, we must enter into an agreement. You recall that I asked you for a favour?”

Now, up until today, you’d been of the entirely sane opinion that demons only existed in the pages of story books, or behind the screens of televisions and computers. But if there’s one thing you’ve learned from pop culture that could apply here, it’s that striking a deal with a demon would be about as sensible as sticking your head into the jaws of a starving bear.

The Horsemen, it appears, share the very same sentiment.

Strife tilts his helm to send a hostile glare up at Vulgrim, and you could swear you hear something that sounds so much like thunder rumbling away inside his chest.

Even still, War’s objection is far louder than his brother’s.

Peeking around Strife’s side, you observe as the larger Horseman’s entire body goes taut and rigid with sudden animosity, and he begins peeling his lips apart to bare a set of gleaming, white teeth. The animosity, though it isn’t directed at you, still draws the blood away from the surface of your skin, leaving you several shades paler than your typical complexion.

Vulgrim, in contrast, either doesn’t notice the dramatic shift in their demeanour, or he simply doesn’t care.

Bold as brass, he presses on. “A precious artifact has been stolen from me,” he laments with a roll of his wrist, “I sought Samael’s assistance in the matter, but…” Trailing off, he regards the pair of bristling behemoths with a glint in his sharp, green eyes. “Perhaps,” he adds thoughtfully, “You could recover it.”

Dead silence pervades the void for a long, awfully uncomfortable length of time whilst you send fleeting glances between each of the Horsemen, up to the horned demon, and back again.

“Know what?” Strife pipes up without warning, dropping a hand to rest casually on the barrel of a pistol, “At this point, I’m more interested in killing you than helping you…”

Such a nonplussed hint at murder throws your heart up into your throat, and you blanch, gaping incredulously at the spiked, black hair jutting from the Horseman’s helm.

You’re starting to deduce that Vulgrim must be used to such threats. How else could he stare down a man with a gun that size without flinching?

“That would profit neither of us,” he deadpans. Then, raising his voice to an enticing lilt, he adds, “It’ll be worth your while~!”

Strife’s shoulders jump with a sceptical grunt.

“It’s true!” Vulgrim retorts, “I give you my word.”

“Oh! Your word?” Strife echoes sarcastically, “Well, why didn’t you say so! We’ll do it!”

Blinking, the demon quirks a brow ridge. “Really?”

“Sure!”

Everyone, yourself included, stares at Strife in silence for a time, each of you expecting him to throw his head back with a laugh and tell Vulgrim that he’s joking. But as the seconds tick by in which Strife merely peers up at the demon without a word, you start to get the impression that he is not, in fact, joking.

After it becomes clear that his brother isn’t about to rescind his offer to actually help the merchant, War bodily whirls about to face him and scoffs, “You can’t be serious?”

Strife’s metal shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “Look at where we are, War,” he mutters, swinging his mask in an arc to take in the void around you, “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Cowering behind him, you nervously cast a glance around his elbow again to see War’s face screw up beneath his crimson hood, ice-blue gaze flitting sideways to throw a look out at the darkness beyond the platform. With each passing second, you see his eyebrows knit closer and closer together, forming a solid line of white hair upon his strong forehead.

Though he’s loathe to admit it, War can see the sense in his brother’s words.

If they are to leave this place and continue their mission for the Charred Council, they’ll need the help of a demon to do it.

Spitting a Nephilim curse that would have Death reprimanding him with a smack around the head, War snatches his glare to the opposite side of the plateau, steadfastly refusing to meet Strife’s eye.

Sensing the Horseman’s acquiescence, Vulgrim’s toothy maw stretches into a too-wide smile, showing off fangs that glint like knives when they catch the murky light.

“Hah,” he declares triumphantly, “I will provide a serpent hold for travel.”

“A serpent hole?” you whisper under your breath.

You’ve heard of worm holes before, but serpent holes?

Frankly, you find it hard to conjure up the effort to actually care what kind of holes he’ll be providing.

If this ‘serpent hole’ means a way out of this place and back to that drab, terrifying church, you’ll take it.

“Well, all right.” Strife declares suddenly, and before you can move, the massive, metal man steps to one side, revealing you in full to the eyes of his brother and the demon. “Vague mission. Unknown dangers. Undetermined reward… What’s not to love?”

In response, War grunts, and then, to your dismay, his gaze lands on you, and you’re once again rendered stuck, pinned beneath the heavy weight of his preternatural glare.

Even with a demon hovering close by, it’s War’s attention that leaves you feeling the most exposed. The fresh, pink scar on your arm begins to itch.

“What are we to do with this human?” he mutters to Strife, who plants his hands on his hips and tilts his helm at you, not unlike how an inquisitive bird peers at something shiny.

“Just a suggestion,” Vulgrim cuts in eagerly, “You could leave her here.”

Letting out a fierce gasp at his words, you recoil from the salivating demon as if you expect him to pounce at any moment.

“Yeah, no,” Strife retorts for you, “Nice try. But that ain’t happening.”

Somehow, War’s perpetual frown manages to grow even more severe as he snaps, “You’re not suggesting we take her with us?”

You have to admit, you concur with the hooded giant. You’re not a fan of Strife’s idea either, even if it does mean getting out of this god-forsaken ‘void.’

Exhaling roughly through his nose, Strife hunches his massive shoulders and replies, “Why not?”

“Because this human is none of our concern!”

“So… what? You’d rather just leave her to be eaten by tall, dark and gruesome over here?”

Vulgrim hums a note of disdain as Strife jerks his chin in his direction.

Staring at his brother, War’s expression turns calculating, reminiscent of the way he looks over battleplans and strategies before a fight. “You’re being awfully insistent about this.”

“Oh, come on, War!“ Strife groans, slumping his shoulders and throwing his head back dramatically, "You’re not even a little curious? Don’t you wanna know what we were fighting for? This human is one of the reasons the Charred Council ordered us to murder our-!”

“-Do not dwell on the past, brother,” the enormous Horseman suddenly cuts him off, his nostrils flaring wide as he scowls down at his sibling, a warning hidden just beyond bared teeth, “The Charred Council gave us new orders. They are all you should be concerned about.” Throwing you a suspicious glare, he adds, “This… human is a distraction we cannot afford.”

“Hmph.” Eyes narrowed to razor-thin slits, Strife folds his arms petulantly across his silver chest and mutters, “Sounds like a distraction is exactly what you’re lookin’ for.”

Leather bracers strain with an ominous creak as War’s fists clench slowly at his sides. “What was that?” he challenges.

Giving his shoulders a nonchalant shrug, Strife just flaps a hand at his brother, as if to casually waft away the larger Horseman’s aggression, “Nothin’. Nothin’…”

Growling, War snaps his head towards Vulgrim, who has done little else but hover nearby with his eyes trained eagerly on the brothers and their quarrel, looking thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

“Are you waiting for an invitation, demon!?” he snaps, “Summon a portal.”

Blowing out a hefty sigh, Vulgrim throws his hands up compliantly and swivels around in midair until he’s facing the centre of his raised dais, grumbling incomprehensibly under his breath as his wings give an agitated little flutter.

Impatient, War simply huffs, growing still when the back of his neck begins to prickle. There are eyes upon him that aren’t his brother’s.

With a sudden shift, the Horseman twists his head sideways and anchors it in your direction, subjecting you to an undeserved glare from beneath the lip of his hood.

Choking on a gasp, you drop your eyes to the floor near your feet quick as a flash. You’re so focused on not meeting the gaze of the crimson-clad giant that you fail to notice his brother boring a hole into the side of your head, regarding you with a pensive expression.

Obviously, leaving you here isn’t an option. Not least because frankly, he has way too many questions.

But he needs War on his side.

So, breathing a sigh, he raises his head to meet his brother’s eye and tries a different approach. “What about the Balance?”

And just like that, War’s body goes tense at his brother’s soft question. The haunting, blue stare you’ve found yourself caught up in starts to falter, drifting away from the pink scar running over your arm and moving towards the older Horseman. “Strife…” he begins tiredly.

There are very few beings in the Universe who could claim to know War as well as his brother. But one doesn’t have to know War deeper than surface level to see that honour and duty are among the youngest Horseman’s chief principals.

“The Council said Lucifer’s plotting humanity’s downfall as we speak…” Strife continues, unhurried.

Blinking rapidly, you forget your terror of War for a second and throw your head up again to blurt, “I- He- He’s what?”

“And these little guys-“ Strife jerks the chin of his helm at you, staring hard at the younger Nephilim. “-Are integral to the Balance.”

He doesn’t miss how War’s lips tighten into a thin, displeased line.

‘Gotcha.’

Though he knows his brother would have no way of seeing it behind his helm, Strife holds back the triumphant little smirk that tries to angle across his mouth. Just to be safe.

“You’d protect humanity,” he presses, knowing full-well that something is about to go ‘clunk’ in his brother’s mind, “But not a human?”

Lo and behold, no sooner has he asked the question than War’s steely countenance drops by a fraction – A fraction so negligible that only the sharpest eyes would be able to spot it.

It just so happens that Strife has the sharpest eyes in the Universe.

By his own claim, sure. But still.

“I don’t know what’s more concerning,” War grunts, shaking his hooded head, “The fact that you listened to what the Council said. Or the fact that you actually have a point.”

Strife stares hard at his brother for a long moment whilst you give them both a look of abject horror, pulse jumping in your temple.

“Woah,” the older Nephilim utters at last, “Did you just admit that I have a point…? Can I get that in writing?”

Slipping his eyes shut, the largest Horseman inhales deeply through his nose and exhales a breath in a noisy rush through his gritted teeth. “We’ll take her,” he concedes at last.

Straightening his back, Strife innocently asks, “What?”

“We’ll take her.”

You’d probably throw up at the declaration if you weren’t so irrationally concerned about staining the wedding dress.

Eyes as cold as tundra frost turn their attention onto you.

Fittingly, you feel the blood in your veins turn to ice.

“Human,” he growls, “You’re coming with us.”

“I-I don’t… want to…?” you croak weakly.

Slinging his chin sideways, Strife asks, “You’d rather stay here with this guy?”

With an audible gulp, you throw a glance at Vulgrim, only to find his gleaming, green eyes peering down at you hungrily.

 Recoiling, you pull a face and send a beseeching, watery plea to the Horseman. “I-I just want to get out of here.”

“There, see?” Strife exclaims, jabbing a thumb down at you and grinning up at his brother, “She wants to come with us.”

Aghast, you immediately start to sputter, “That is absolutely not what I meant!” The courage it takes for you to return your gaze to the looming demon is astronomical. Raising a trembling hand, you gesture floppily at him and add, “He said he can make a -a snake hole for you guys! Can’t he make one for me as well?”

“It’s serpent hole,” Vulgrim corrects with a tut, still turned towards the centre of his platform, yet he spares you a glance over his sinewy shoulder, ebony horns shimmering in the sickly light.

 “Whatever!” you screech, panicked at the mere fact that he’s addressing you, “Just pick a hole, open it, and let me go home! Please!”

“Ha!” Strife barks.

Struck by the sudden urge to scold his brother - though not quite understanding why - War shoots a scathing glare at Strife before returning his attention to you again. “The only ones with the power to send you to Earth are the Charred Council,” he explains.

“Then take me to them!” you try to demand, but the squeak of your voice is frustratingly prevalent. You imagine you’re no more intimidating to these beings than a mouse is to a lion.

“Listen.”

You leap out of your skin, literally clutching your pearl necklace as Strife speaks and shifts about on his feet to face you.

“Let me tell you something right now,” he says, “There are exactly two ways to get a summoning from the Charred Council.”

Taking a heavy step towards you, he raises the first two fingers of his right hand, counting them off as he starts to explain, “The first, is if they have a new mission for us.” He drops his middle finger, wagging his remaining digit at you. “And the second, is if we finish a current mission. And seeing as we’ve just started this one…” Trailing off, he tips his chin down, peering at you expectantly, observing in silence as your expression slowly begins to crumple.

‘Shit… Can all humans pull that face?’ he grimaces to himself, ‘Might be more powerful than they look.’

In the end, War puts words to what you’ve just realised.

“We will not be summoned to the Council until our mission here is complete,” he grunts.

The weight of his words drops into your stomach, sending the whole organ plummeting down into your shoes. Wringing your hands, your thumb brushes over an abnormal band of metal resting at the base of your third finger.

Wetting your lips, you lower your eyes to the sizeable diamond engagement ring sitting prettily on your left hand. Ever so briefly, you’re struck by a memory, of the first time you showed your father the ring that Cain had given you. You almost had to call the nurse into his hospital room because he laughed so damn hard and nearly tore out his drip.

‘He trying to marry you or buy you?’ he’d wheezed after a raucous guffaw, clutching your hand with skeletal fingers, his knuckles so swollen and arthritic, the only thing you could bear to do was look away. The guilt of averting your eyes haunted you until you fell asleep that same night.

You have to clench your eyes shut with vicious force to banish the memory. You can’t think of him right now, laying there, all alone with a tube in his arm and the grimmest of prospects waiting just a few weeks down the line.

“H-how long will it take to finish your mission?” you bleat, feeling the suffocating fist of helplessness closing around your heart.

You have to get back…

“Dunno,” Strife shrugs, “Depends how much more demon bullshit we gotta take care of… Though considering recent events… I’m not hopeful for a quick resolution.”

“But I need to go home!” you bleat, twisting your fingers around a handful of your dress’s tulle, “You don’t understand – Dad’s last chemo appointment is tomorrow, a-and I’m supposed to be getting married, like… like right now!”

“I have no idea what you just said, but it all sounds very important. Which is all the more reason to get this show on the road.” Turning to face the demon behind him, Strife claps his palms together twice and barks, “Hey, Vulgrim. Serpent hole. C’mon, look lively!”

The merchant sneers, grumbling as faces the centre of his platform once more, spreading out his palms.

You give a start when a pulse of… something sours the taste of the air around you, turning dry, musty breaths into thick and acrid gulps that seem to slide across your tongue with each inhale. Instinctively, you cover your mouth.

Wind whips your veil up into a flurry of white fabric. With a graceful whirl, it blows forwards and you have to throw a hand up to catch it, sweeping it back away from your face as you stare agog at the spectacle forming in front of you.

In a word… it’s… beautiful.

In a lot of words, it’s also incredibly bright and shit-inducingly scary. It isn’t natural to see magic, not outside of a children’s birthday party or a heavily edited video online. Your eyes take it all in – the circle of azure light that swirls to life in the ground before you. Where there was once a patch of dull, grey stone, now there’s a pool – not of water, but of something that moves and flows just like it.

Your mouth hangs open as Vulgrim lowers his arms and drifts back with a beat of his vestigial wings, away from the serpent hole.

“It’s all yours, Horsemen,” he declares, bowing with a grandiose sweep of his hand, “Oh, but before you go – Do be careful. The keeper of my artefact will be, ah… less than pleased to see you.”

“No one is ever pleased to see us,” Strife grumbles, wincing at the bitter undertone that shines through just a little too brightly for his liking. Clearing his throat, he gruffly adds, “That’s kind of the idea.”

They’re Horsemen now. Dreaded enforcers of the Charred Council… Hated. Despised.

“War?” Strife brusquely addresses the larger Horseman, gesturing towards you with a jerk of his head.

Throwing his brother a heated glare, War takes a begrudging, booming step in your direction, quaking the ground beneath your feet.

You’re nearly sent toppling ass over teakettle in your haste to back-peddle away from the armoured behemoth, launching your hands out in front of you and blurting, “Woah, woah, woah! Hang on a moment!”

You very nearly faint on the spot when, against all odds, the Horseman actually pauses midstride, a single, ivory brow quirking to peer at you expectantly. You’d have thought that nothing short of a tank could make someone his size hesitate.

Sliding his gaze smoothly between the two of you, Strife has the gall to tip his helm to one side and ask, “What’s the matter, Princess?”

‘Princess’ indeed. If he wasn’t the size of a skyscraper, you’d have half a mind to smack him with your bag. As it is, you doubt the satisfaction of striking him would be worth the painful death that’d surely follow such an insult.

“I’m… I’m not going anywhere with him.” You point accusingly at War instead, though you swiftly drop your finger after he gives it a look that suggests he’d like to cut it off.

“Oh, come on, he’s not as bad as he looks,” Strife prods encouragingly, “Is this about your arm?”

Incredulous, you gape up at the Horseman for a moment before pursing your lips with a shrug, as if to compose yourself. “No, actually, I just don’t particularly like his attitude- YES OF COURSE IT’S ABOUT MY FUCKING ARM!”

 “He healed it up afterwards!” Strife replies brightly, as though you’re both having a friendly debate about the weather. If anything, judging by the upward curve of his luminous eyes and his jocular tone of voice, you’d almost wager that he’s actually enjoying your little back and forth.

One of your eyelids twitches, and you have to take a moment to think of something coherent to say, but when you open your mouth, the only word that leaps out is an incredulous, “What!?”

“And besides,” Strife breezes over you as if you’d never spoken, “I’m sure he’s very sorry. Right, big man?”

Pressing your lips together dubiously, you follow Strife’s pointed gaze up to his brother, who leers back at you with his stony face set like a dark thundercloud, his chest quaking around a resonant rumble.

You can’t imagine this beast has ever apologised for anything in his life - if he’s even had the inclination to.

Trying to swallow past a lump of nerves, you glower mistrustfully at the handle of the broadsword jutting over War’s shoulder, and declare, “He can be as sorry as he likes, but he is not putting me on his shoulder!”

Pursing his lips, Strife blows out a whistle, lifting a hand to scratch idly at his jagged, ebony hair. “Well,” he shrugs, “You’re comin’ with us either way. So… You wanna step through the portal yourself, or what?”

“… Hard. Pass.”

“Oh…” His gaze darts to the ground before he flicks it up to you again, one eye squinted halfway shut. “You sure?”

“Am I sure I don’t want to be carried through a mystical worm hole by the same brute who nearly cut my arm off not five minutes ago?” you clarify, subconsciously cradling the aforementioned appendage in your opposite palm, “Yes. I’m sure.”

Something of a standoff ensues between you and Strife, the latter of whom squints down at you for several, perturbing seconds, his hand still clasping the back of his neck. Another few beats pass, measured by the steady ‘thump,’ ‘thump,’ ‘thump,’ of your heart pounding in your ears.

Sadly, the relative peace only lasts another second when Strife allows his hand flop back to his side, raising one, silver shoulder into a shrug and announcing, “All right, suit yourself!”

“Suit my-wah!?”

Without warning, the Horseman takes a sudden, lurching step towards you, and before you can back-peddle clumsily out of range, two enormous, metal hands launch out to catch you around the waist, fingers spread widely enough to envelop your heaving ribs.

Struck by a sense of déjà vu, you waste no time in bunching your hands into fists and slamming them furiously down on top of Strife’s gauntlets, succeeding at nothing beyond hurting the heels of your palms. All the same, you dig right down into the bottom of your own, personal well and manage to scoop out enough drops of courage to holler, “Don’t you dare!”  

With the same effort you’d use to lift a porcelain doll, Strife simply hoists you up into the air – still kicking and flailing – and slings you over his armoured shoulder. You land with a hard jolt of pain, followed by a yelp when something sharp jabs into your stomach.

“Should’a gone with War if you wanted a comfier ride.” The Horseman curls a cumbersome arm across the seat of your dress, pressing down the layered tulle and securing you in place much like his brother had not too long ago.

“You can’t do this!” you shout, “This is-! I mean, i-it’s kidnapping!”

Strife barks out a sharp laugh as he steps up beside his brother, and together, they peer down into the blue, swirling vortex that roars with dark and ancient energies, beckoning them in.

“Kidnapping?” he parrots, deliberately jostling you on his shoulder to get a squeak out of you, “Nah, nah, nah. If anything, this is a rescue. You don’t wanna know what Vulgrim’d do to your soul if we left you here.”

Half draped over the titan’s spine, you twist your neck to the side and meet the eerie merchant’s emerald gaze. Perturbingly, you can’t quite tell if he’s grinning at you, or if he’s displaying his thrawn fangs in threat.

You shudder, and that terrible, insincere smile stretches wider.

“Ironically, she may be in less danger here than she will be in whatever demon-infested pit he’s sending us to…” War points out.

“Eh, probably.” Raising a boot into the air, Strife takes one, long stride forwards into the portal, feeling the ground fall away below his feet as his matter begins slipping towards another plane of existence. Before he disappears entirely however, he twists his helm over a shoulder to catch your wild-eyed stare, throwing you a lopsided wink once he meets it.

“But comin’ with us is gonna be way more fun.”

[fallrimxreader]

Who understands a dirty innuendo

Understands and replies with another innuendo: Cait, Hancocck, Deacon, Gage.

Understands but gets embarrassed and flustered: MacCready, Preston.

Understands but is not amused: Valentine, Piper, Codsworth.

Does not get it: X6-88, Strong, Curie.

Danse: I honestly feel he is borderline all of them depending on your relationship with him.

[flowersarefreetherapy]

I NEED MORE CAMERON

Here you are, dear anon!

CW: Dehumanization, it as a pronoun, innuendos, harassment, sexually degrading language, noncon touch, BBU universe, pet whump, manipulation, dubcon themes

“Look at that, Grandpa was right about what this old geezer is keeping locked up.”

Cameron freezes, slowly raising his gaze. Three young adults stand in front of him; two men and a woman. The men wear dark tuxes and the woman wears a blue dress that hugs her body. Matching smiles paint their faces and the sight sends a shiver down Cameron’s spine. 

His master told him to kneel perfectly still and not draw attention, but also to respond if he was spoken to. The party drags on around them, carpet too rough under his thin tights. He wants to tug up the sleeve falling off his shoulder, wipe away the glitter sparkling across his shoulders, take off his makeup and curl at his master’s side, away from these people who only want him for his looks and not who he is. 

Where is my master? 

“It’s pretty,” the girl giggles, twirling a lock of her hair around her fingers. “Look at its eyes, I love it! Oh, Dracy, can we have one?”

“Mother’s already promised me one when I finish college, so yeah, I’ll make sure to get one like him.”

“Thank you!”

Her voice reaches a high pitch that drills into Cameron’s skin, but he keeps his plastic smile plastered on his face. He glances behind them, searching the rest of the party for his master. Everything in him screams out to leave before it gets worse. Well, worse than it already is. He is not made for people like this. He is made for his master, and his master alone, for someone who knows what he can take, the limits of his body. He’s not a toy, just a doll to dress up and discard, he is a loved and valued pet who is designed to make his master feel better. 

“Look at these curls,” the other man says, rubbing one of his curls. His fingers twist in Cameron’s hair and he flinches. “Good grip.”

“God, Lance, you’re really gonna mess around with a pet like that? What would Lisa say?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not a person, so it doesn’t matter what I do to it. Lisa doesn’t count it as cheating.”

He forces Cameron’s head back, fingers digging into his scalp. Cameron swallows hard, folding his hands in his lap in an attempt to hide his body’s reaction. Rage swirls deep in his chest. This isn’t what he’s made for! 

I want my master! Where is my master! Please, come help me!

“It’s stunning, look at that.” Lance’s finger traces the outline of Cameron’s lips. He parts them, falling back on training. “Like a little doll.”

“That’s kinda weird, dude.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Seriously, get your head out of the gutter!”

“I’m not the one making comments about some old man’s slut.”

“Aw, don’t call it that,” the girl pouts. “Look at how sad it looks!”

Use her to get out of here.

Cameron softens his eyes, pulls his shoulders close to his body, ducks his head, doing everything he can to make himself appear attractive and cute. It’s an odd feeling, contrary to his training. He’s not like the other ones, who are cute and small and mean to be loved. He’s not like them. He’s not, and he has to be okay with that. 

My desires are not my own. I exist only for my master. I love him. I am meant for him. I miss him. Where is he? 

“Aren’t you just a sad little thing,” the girl cooes, ruffling his hair. “Look at how sweet it is!”

“We aren’t getting one now,” the other man, Dracy, sighs. “Just wait a few more months.”

Lance slips his finger inside Cameron’s mouth. He opens his mouth wider and the man chuckles. His finger slides against his teeth, pressing down on his tongue. The skin tastes like sugar and sweat. Cameron swallows back a sudden gag reflex. 

“Wonder how deep it can take it?” Lance whispers, almost to himself. 

“You know it’s trained to do whatever you want.”

“Don’t do that,” the girl whines. “That’s just gross. You boys are gross. It’s icky thinking about that. Why don’t we leave the darling alone and go back to the party? I wanna talk with Mother’s friends.”

“Her friends are boring. This is fun.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in this.”

Lance shrugs, retracting his finger. “Yeah, but haven’t you heard what these things can do? I’d be stupid to pass up an opportunity like this.”

“You can’t.”

The words slip out of Cameron before he can stop them. He freezes in horror for all of three seconds before remembering that these kids have no say here. This is his master’s house–his house–and these kids have no say compared to his master’s rules. 

“You can’t,” he repeats. “My master won’t allow you.”

“He doesn’t control me. And for that matter, neither do you, thinking you can tell me what to do. Stupid pet.”

Cameron smirks, tipping his head to the side. He knows how desirable he looks and plays into that, letting his beauty increase the bite of his words. “I can’t be that stupid. After all, I’m not the one touching things that don’t belong to me.”

The blow lands hard enough to send his ears ringing and heat pooling in his gut. Cameron keeps his smile plastered on his face, ignoring how his cheek burns. Lance glares back at him, hand raised for another strike. 

“Go on, I’m sure you’d love to explain to my master what happened.”

Lance lowers his hand and turns to the others. “Let’s get out of here. This slut isn’t worth my time.”

Cameron smiles as they walk away. Once he’s sure they won’t look back, he lets the smile drop, staring blankly into the crowd. His skin prickles with the urge to find his master. He can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t. Digs his nails into his thighs, bites his tongue, forces himself to take deep breaths. The meeting should be done soon. His master will come and get him. 

There is no clock that he can see. Just the laughter of the party around him. Cameron stares into the middle distance, letting his mind slip away. Patience. He knows what to do. He knows how to behave. He has been trained to do this. Hours could pass and he wouldn’t care. 

“There you are.”

Cameron snaps back to attention. He pulls his shoulders back, tipping his chin up to meet his master with a smile. 

His master cups his chin, thumb pressing on his lower lip. “Look at you, waiting for me like such a good boy.”

Cameron leans into the touch, letting out a sigh, his smile faltering for a second. His teeth cut into his lip as his master uses his grip to pull him closer. Turning his head from side to side, eyes narrowing. He’s made a mistake. 

“What happened?” his master growls. “Who touched you?”

“. . . some kids,” Cameron breathes. Don’t lie, don’t lie, don’t lie. Be honest. He loves you more when you’re honest. 

“Kids.”

A shudder slips down his spine at how dark his master’s voice has gotten. Typically a tone kept for their bedroom, but now being used so clearly in the open. He finds himself glancing over his master’s shoulder, praying that no one sees them. 

“Yes, sir. They didn’t do anything. I knew you wouldn’t be happy with them.”

“Hmm.”

Cameron blinks back sudden tears. He shrinks back, attempting to make himself as small as possible. “Sir, I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t know how to handle them, I was just trying to listen, I was just trying to be good for you!”

His master finally smiles. It softens his face, highlights the wrinkles around his eyes. Cameron forces himself to smile back and relax. He’s safe, he’s here with his master, he’s home. There’s no reason. 

“Good boy. I knew I could trust you alone. You’re also so good for me.”

Cameron glances up at his master through his eyelashes, keeping his voice pitched low. “Thank you, sir.”

“I always expect nothing less.” 

His master holds out his arm and Cameron takes it with a smile. They can go home now. Warmth blooms in his chest, spreading throughout his body. Cameron raises on his tiptoes and kisses his master’s cheek. 

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking himself close to his side. 

“I love you too, my pet.”

[theheartneverliez]

Pork cake

Sounds horrible

But !

[ace-culture-is]

ace culture is finding out that 69 is an actual, sex related thing (not just like a joke about 6 and 9 together and that it looks the same both ways or smth alike that)

.

[mafaldaknows]

“Official” is the new “allegations”🙄🙄🙄

[mycrappyrpsideblog]

Love Drunk (pt 2)

Part One Here

It didn't take you long to get to the bar and once you were there you were happy to see that it was much less busy than you'd expected. From the look of things there were maybe 40 or so trolls in here and the vibe was so-so. It looked like the place was mostly midbloods with a few highbloods so finding a seadweller among them was super easy. Trying not to seem too desperate you decided that you would get a drink and then try and see if he'd team up with you for the trivia game when it began. If the two of you got competitive in the game then he'd be more likely to want to hook up. And from what you saw on his socials he was totally the type who did these things anyway. You weren't like the main type he went for but he didn't seem immune to a curvy girl.

The game was set up before you finished your drink so you brought it over with you as you scanned the tables. It looked like the guy was all by himself while everyone else was setting up with a friend or two. Walking over you leaned over at the hip so you were in his eyeline and gave your most dazzling smile.

"Hi! Sorry to like interrupt but I'm like super new to this bar and saw you were also by yourself. Would you be ok playing the trivia game with me? I'm really nervous to be on my own but I really wanted to play."

His eye flickered across your body so quickly that you'd almost assume he hadn't checked you out if you didn't know better. "Oh well we can't be havin a lovely lass like yerself spendin her evenin all alone. I'd be happy to have a pretty gal on my team." Much to your surprise he actually stood up to pull a chair out for you. But of course your darling would have good taste in a moirail so it wasn't too shocking he was classy.

"My name is Cherie, it's super duper nice to meet-cha. Do you come here lots?"

He laughed softly as he sat back down after I took my seat. "Not too often. Been tryin not to drink as much but I like comin for the game nights. My name is Hallin. Fergus Hallin."

"Not a fan of your first name? Or is your line like famous or something?" Again you got a laugh out of him and you faked looking super interested as you propped your elbows up on the table to lean closer to him.

"Got it in one try. I just don't like my first name. My moirail is the only one who tends to get away with it but maybe I won't mind it if someone with such a cute voice says it." UGH... Messiahs was this dude easy...

The trivia game went super well. You were of course more than just a beautiful face but Hallin on the other hand was kind of an idiot. He knew some stuff but it was shocking how little he knew about movies and stuff. But between the two of you you'd actually gotten all of the questions right. More importantly though you'd managed to get him at least a bit tipsy and by the end of the game his hand was resting confidently across the back of your chair. He'd been flirting pretty regularly and if you hadn't been a gal on a mission you probably would have gone with it. He was more charming than you'd expected. You did make a mental note not to hurt his face.

Once the game was done the bar started to slowly disperse so you put the plan full into motion. Turning towards him you rested one hand on his thigh and used the other to whisper in his ear. "Hallin, would you like to come back to my hive?" He didn't even flinch nervously at your touch, like he was almost expecting it.

"I would love to. Let me go close out our tabs." His hand brushed lightly through your hair, pushing it off of your shoulder. Once he was gone you let out a heavy sigh and slowly got up to follow. This wasn't feeling fun anymore. But it was almost done, and then you could finally get Circin to play with you. You could make a buddy later. Resolving yourself you walked up to Hallin and prepared to leave.

The drive back to your carnival felt like it took forever even though you know it wasn't any longer than the drive to the bar. The two of you chatted a bit, a few of the topics enough to even make you flustered. Your car was dark but even still you could feel how smug he was because he was making you blush. He never touched you too much, even after you had parked and started to talk to your tent. For the most part just a hand on your lower back. As you held open the entrance of your tent for him you noticed him freeze at the same time you go the taser out. He turned fast but with how close the two of you were he didn't have much time to react.

"Sorry sweetie. It really isn't anything personal."

[blueheartbookclub]

"The Clouds: A Timeless Satirical Masterpiece"

Aristophanes, through his timeless play "The Clouds," brings forth a riveting blend of humor, wit, and social commentary that transcends the boundaries of time and culture. William James Hickie's translation beautifully captures the essence of Aristophanes' original Greek comedy, allowing readers to revel in the satire and thought-provoking insights that remain relevant to this day.

"The Clouds" is a bold and imaginative critique of the intellectual and moral climate of ancient Athens, presented through the lens of the eccentric Socrates and the establishment of the "Thinkery." As readers embark on this comedic journey, they are treated to a sharp exploration of the conflict between tradition and innovation, philosophy and practicality.

The play unfolds with Strepsiades, a debt-ridden farmer seeking refuge from his financial woes, enrolling in the Thinkery to acquire the skill of persuasive argumentation. Here, Socrates, brilliantly portrayed as an airy intellectual consumed by abstract ideas, takes center stage. The ensuing dialogue between Strepsiades and Socrates is a testament to Aristophanes' genius in blending humor with intellectual depth.

Hickie's translation preserves the linguistic nuances and comedic elements, allowing readers to appreciate the clever wordplay, puns, and innuendos that make Aristophanes' work a literary treasure. The humor is sharp, and the satire biting, as Aristophanes fearlessly mocks the intellectual elite and challenges the societal norms of his time.

Beyond its comedic brilliance, "The Clouds" serves as a mirror reflecting the perennial tension between the pursuit of knowledge and the practicalities of daily life. Aristophanes raises thought-provoking questions about the responsibilities of intellectuals, the consequences of unchecked innovation, and the delicate balance between tradition and progress.

In the hands of Hickie, Aristophanes' wit shines through, making this translation an accessible and enjoyable experience for contemporary readers. The characters come to life with vividness, and the dialogues resonate with relevance, inviting readers to reflect on the timeless themes presented.

"The Clouds" is more than a mere comedy; it is a literary gem that challenges societal norms, questions authority, and invites introspection. Aristophanes' bold satire, combined with Hickie's adept translation, ensures that this play remains a captivating and enduring piece of literature that transcends the ages.

"The Clouds," of Aristophanes skillfully translated byWilliam James Hickie is available in Amazon in paperback 10.99$ and hardcover 18.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 105

Language: English

Rating: 8/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[blueyhuesposts]

Kevin Barr x reader headcannon/scenario

Warnings: Implied innuendos, making out, touching, grinding...

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

►You were Eddy's twin sister

►So of course when you guys were younger the entire cul-de-sac children didn't like you (Eddy's fault of course)

►It was only obvious that since you hung out with the Ed's unluckiness would come your guys way.

►Though your guys biggest bully was Kevin.

►He seemed to relax on you though you never knew why though was never answered

►Your cheeks glowing red everytime he would come along, though you would never let kevin or anyone know (especially eddy)

►Finally as you guys got older and the kids finally accepted you, things were alot easier

►You were one of the best cheerleaders along with nazz

►You started to hang out with the girls on the cul-de-sac, finally feeling at ease

►Though your crush on Kevin never leaving

►Little did you know Kevin's crush started forming once you guys would start hanging out as kids

►Though he couldn't stand your obnoxious brother, you were nothing like him

►Your nature completely relaxing and stress free knowing exactly what to do to make things right after every scam, how you would seem u bothered and always stand up for your brother and his friends.

►That fierce nature of your when you would tell at him back when he was a kid really had blood rushing towards his cheek (and might I say to other places as well😏)

►Slowly but surely he would ask you for tutoring in English, knowing you were on top of your game for that class

►Hanging out in house after school were the light of his day, he'd try making you laugh (succeeding most times) getting you to smile your bright smile

►Most times you would come in your rocking cheerleading outfit when you didn't have enough time to change (though he never minded seeing you support his football team and your bare legs crossed against each other...)

►Slowly it led to getting ice cream after, then taking nightly rides on his motorcycle, to finally him asking you on the cliff where the stars and moon shined their brightest

►Of course you said yes how could you not? Especially when you saw through his cool act, his blushing face and stuttering was the cutest thing you've ever seen.

►Driving back home on the back of his motorcycle, you couldn't help but hold his waist tighter blushing like no tomorrow

►Keeping it a secret from eddy was the hardest thing you could ever do. Going to his house instead of hanging out in yours just so eddy wouldn't see you suck face with his "enemy"

►Though Kevin couldn't stand your brother, he would do anything to see you and hold you. And God did he really want to see you tonight. No matter at what costs...

You sat on your bed, you biker shorts hugging your legs as you criss crossed them. Painting your nails the prettiest color while also being on the telephone talking with nazz. "Nazz I'm telling you, he's the sweetest guy you should totally go out with him!"

"Mmm I don't know y/n what if we don't have anything in common, what if hes everything bad that plagues this earth." You chuckled blowing on your fingers. "You never know Nazz~ he could be the love of your life..." As she was speaking you heard someone climbing up the side of your window.

Eyes wide you looked to see an all to known red hat. Kevin sat on the edge of your window sill smirking. "Hey babe." You smiled wildly quickly hanging up on nazz telling her you'll call her tomorrow. Your boyfriend now sat on the edge of your bed and you couldn't help but hug him tightly.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he kissed your cheek. Enjoying the silence for a moment you suddenly realized what the HELL was going on! You pushed Kevin slightly with a shocked and scared look on your face.

"What are YOU doing here? What if my brother or dad comes in? We've talked about this Kevin!" You whispered yelled, though you couldn't push away the bubbling leap in your chest when he smirked. "What I can't see my favorite doll face?"

You rolled your eyes and shoved him once again. "Yea I better be your only favorite." He laughed quietly. "Trust me when I say your my only favorite." The blush you were holding back bursted throughout your cheeks.

There was a calming silence, you in between his spread legs as he held your hips in tight grip. He brought you impossibly closer towards him with a smirk. "How about a kiss before I go y/n?" Your eyebrow arched in a sarcastic manner before smiling.

"I geuss if you must.." never finishing what you were saying before he kissed your lips surprisingly soft for someone like Kevin. You wrapped you arms around his neck leading his head more closer. The kiss getting heated by the minute, his tongue wrapping around yours.

He carried you in his lap. Grabbing your ass and massaging it. You moaned a little in his mouth. He smiled a bit before you tugged on his hair. He groaned a little before he laid in the bed, dragging you with him. You grinded against his lap as his breath hiccuped from feeling the sensation. You continued till you heard heavy footsteps and an all to known loud ass voice.

You bolted up Kevin still breathing heavily under you. "You gotta go. NOW!" He nodded though still dazed from the kisses as his lips seared smeared with the lip glosses as well as his neck. You pushed him towards the window watching as he carefully slipped out of it.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He said before reaching towards you from one more kiss. Though that's when the footsteps were right at you door. you slammed your window shut hearing kevin yelling and a loud thud. All this while your door finally opened to reveal your brother .

You acted as if you were opening the window for fresh air. "Yo y/n dad wanted me to come get you for dinner." You nodded afraid to use your voice. Eddy looked at you weirdly. "Fix your hair you look like you never bruhsed that shit in years." You rolled your eyes and stuck up your middle finger as he slammed the door laughing and cackling loudly.

You looked out to see Kevin limping towards his bike. Feeling a face his way he turned around and smirked. You sighed a breath of relief before blowing him a long kiss. You closed your window for the night. He blushed a bit and sighed dreamily. His pounding leg, definitely going to be bruised up in the morning...'though it's totally worth it.'