#where phallic shaped head would go across my shoulder

[chilewithcarnage]

re: ask game

7, 8?

i have no tattoos, and i want tattoos but im also in a constant battle of wanting ink but also want to have my beautiful plain brown skin

[h00nerz]

who’s that girl!

FOURTY / something like this

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warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, profanity, that’s it afaik

word count: 2.9k

BY THE TIME YOU ARRIVED BACK TO YOUR APARTMENT THAT NIGHT, it was much later than you’d originally intended. Following your (very anticlimactic) breakup, Yunjin had insisted it was the perfect excuse to go out and get absolutely wasted. She’d even tried to get Sakura and Chaewon to join, but they politely declined, leaving it to be just the two of you. So, you followed Yunjin to some random club where she did indeed get wasted, while you weren’t really in the mood to drink.

All you could do was zone out while Felix’s words echoed around in your head. Was he right? Had you really been secretly harboring feelings for Beomgyu this entire time, but been too afraid to face them? After all, it was much easier to convince yourself you were falling for a stranger you met at work than to admit you were falling for your roommate.

You had thought back to the night you’d gone out drinking together, and thought Felix wasn’t interested in you. You had reminisced on the way he made you smile, and laugh, and completely forget about your relationship problems. And then, you had wondered what would have happened that night if Felix never called you. If you never made Beomgyu upset with you, if you had stayed out with him longer…

After that little hypothetical, you did end up having a drink of your own. You were nowhere near as drunk as Yunjin, just buzzed enough to ease your anxiety before it got the better of you. Eventually, you’d gotten tired of sitting at the bar and being overwhelmed by your thoughts, you began dancing with Yunjin in the giant sea of people.

Around 1 AM, Yunjin started trying to climb up on the barstools, and you knew that was the sign it was time for you to go home. So, you dragged a very clingy and very drunk Yunjin out of the club, and into an Uber to take you back to your apartment. You’d thought of just dropping her off back at her own place, but as you watched her breathe on the windows and draw phallic shapes in the precipitation, you knew she was in no state to be alone.

And that was how you ended up leading her down your hallway, attempting to keep her quiet so she wouldn’t wake any of your neighbors. She kept going on about how much she loved you, and how sorry she was none of your relationships worked out, which she seemed to think was sweet of her, but was really more like salt in the wound at that point.

Due to how late it was, you assumed your roommates would have fallen asleep already, so you shushed Yunjin as you flipped through your keys and finally unlocked the door. But when you opened it, you saw the three boys sitting around the coffee table in the living space, playing what looked to be a game of Monopoly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought! Pay up you fucking idiot!” Beomgyu was yelling, waving some card in front of a very defeated looking Yeonjun. Soobin seemed to be a bit out of it, entranced by the swishing of the wine in the glass he held in front of himself. His gaze drifted over to you and Yunjin, though, then his eyes widened.

“Oh my god! Burglars!” He shouted, leaping up to his feet and nearly spilling his glass, but just as quickly as he’d tensed up, he relaxed again. “Oh, hi Y/N. Hi Yunjin!” He greeted them, and the other two boys finally noticed them.

“Hey, uh, how was your date?” Yeonjun asked, blinking at the two of you. Beomgyu sat quietly across from him, avoiding eye contact with you, which you were actually thankful for.

Yunjin giggled at the question, leaning on your shoulder as she began to remove her shoes. “It was so much fun. It turned out Felix and his friend Hyunjin were in love, so Y/N dumped him, and so we just went out clubbing the two of us!” She explained, singing the last part and nearly toppling over.

“Oh, I thought you guys were joking on Twitter. Sorry, Y/N.” Soobin frowned, and slowly sank back down to where he’d been sitting previously.

“Yeah, really sorry, Y/N.” Yeonjun said, and blinked at the two of you. “So, wait, Felix and that Hyunjin guy like each other? And he didn’t sweep Yunjin off her feet?” He asked, and as he said so, your friend, began to tip over onto you.

She grumbled about being tired, and you let out a soft sigh. “Nope, he did not.” You replied, doing your best to help her stand up. “She needs to get to bed, though, you can ask her all about it tomorrow.”

In that moment, you made the mistake of glancing over at Beomgyu, who coincidentally had finally decided to look at you. Your eyes met, and immediately Felix’s words began to echo incessantly in your mind.

I think you secretly like him too.

You knew he was right when your heart began to pound against your ribcage, begging for you to let it out. You knew he was right when your mouth went dry, and it felt like the only thing that could quench your thirst was a swim in his eyes. You knew he was right when the entirety of your skin was lit on fire, burning red hot just from the split moment of eye contact. You knew he was right when your limbs turned to jelly, and you were struggling to stand.

The realization hit you like a truck—or, to put it more accurately, Yunjin hit you like a truck. The jelly feeling caused your legs to give out, and suddenly you were on the floor with Yunjin on top of you. Your view was obstructed by her hair covering your face, but you could hear the boys scrambling to their feet and rushing over in a panic.

“You’re going to suffocate me!” You coughed out, raising your fingers to brush her hair out of your view. Yeonjun was the first to the scene, lifting Yunjin off of you which finally allowed you to breathe.

Before she could protest, Yeonjun was lifting Yunjin up bridal style, earning him some giggles from her. “I’ll carry her to your room.” He offered, and you were too out of breath to decline his offer. Soobin tailed after him as he carried her off towards your room, while you watched from your spot on the floor.

You laid there for a minute, trying to catch your breath and relax for a minute. But you realized someone was crouched down next to you, and felt your breathing go haywire all over again when you realized it was Beomgyu. He was watching you, waiting for you to be ready to stand, and you felt like you were going to crumble under his worried stare.

“You okay?” He finally asked in a low voice, an amused smile playing on his lips.

You nodded frantically, pushing yourself up to your feet before he could offer to help you. “I’m fine. I work with elementary kids, it takes a lot more than that to take me down.” You laughed nervously, looking anywhere except at him.

“Right.” He nodded, stretching up so he was now standing next to you. “Good to hear. It would suck if you died and we had to go roommate hunting again.” He joked, and you laughed, but you weren’t very good at hiding how awkward you were feeling.

The two of you stood in silence, an uncomfortable tension filling the space between you. A part of you felt like dashing off to your room to check on Yunjin and your two idiots for roommates, but the other part felt glued to the spot in the living room. The paralyzation beat your need to run, leaving you stuck there with Beomgyu.

“So… Bad date?” He spoke quietly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

You shrugged. “Not too bad.” You mumbled, and could have just stopped there, but the little bit of alcohol still in your system pushed you to keep going. “You know, I think I’ve been wanting to break up with him for awhile, but I’ve never had a good enough reason until tonight.”

“Oh? Really?” You stared down at his feet and watched as he inched towards you, your breath catching itself in your throat. “What was wrong with him?”

You weren’t sure how things had gotten so tense so quickly, but you weren’t a fan of it. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears, and your fingertips were tingling as you resisted the urge to do something you might regret. “Nothing was wrong with him.” You replied with a breathy laugh. “I just… There wasn’t… There wasn’t a spark.”

“Really? The Australian accent wasn’t sparky enough for you?” He asked, which you couldn’t help but giggle at. Out of instinct, you reached up and smacked his arm.

“You’re such an idiot.” You told him, shaking your head at his childish antics.

“Yeah, I know.” You couldn’t see his face, since you refused to look at him, but you could hear that familiar smile in his voice. That filled you with the overwhelming need to see said smile, so before you could stop yourself, you glanced up, finally meeting his eyes.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, his smile dropped, instead replaced by a look of panic. His brown eyes widened, and his cheeks began to redden under your gaze. He cleared his throat, and you felt a bit better knowing he was just as nervous as you now.

“Um, Y/N, you remember that night, when you thought someone was trying to break into the loft?” He asked, a question that made your heart skip a beat.

“You mean the night you tried to jump out the window?” You countered, attempting to feign ignorance.

He rolled his eyes, unable to hide the small chuckle at your comment. “I wasn’t trying to jump out the window. I was just feeling very claustrophobic and—Anyways, that’s not the point, the point is…” His eyes flickered down, where he was flexing his fingers so they were barely centimeters away from your own. “I told you, that I wouldn’t… Kiss you. Not like that.”

“Mhm?” You pressed. You knew what was going to come next, and maybe you should have made an attempt to stop it before things got out of hand, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. You wanted to hear him say what you already knew, you needed to hear him confirm it for you. And then you wanted him to do what he should have done that night.

“What I meant was—“

Before he even got the chance to finish the sentence, Yeonjun and Soobin were back from dropping Yunjin off. The tension almost immediately melted away as you stepped away from each other, turning to face your two roommates. You fought the urge to scream at the two of them for interrupting everything.

“Is she always a clingy drunk?” Yeonjun asked, raising his arms above his head to give them a good stretch. “Honestly, it’s kind of cute that she gets like that.”

“Yeah, very cute.” You agreed, too busy lost in your thoughts to fully comprehend what he had said. Then, you let out a long yawn. “Wow, it’s getting pretty late. I think I’m going to go to sleep.”

Soobin frowned. “You sure? We could work you into our Monopoly game if you wanted. We need help taking down Beomgyu’s capitalistic empire.”

You laughed softly as Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “That sounds fun, but I’m really tired. Another night?” You asked, offering them a weak smile.

“Fine, but we’re holding you to that.” Yeonjun told you, pointing a finger at you as he walked by. You nodded in abeyance, glancing over at Beomgyu as he followed his friends. You could tell he was just as annoyed as you by the interrupted moment, a wave of irritation radiating off of him.

Something told you that next time, he wasn’t going to let you be interrupted.

AFTER YOU BID THE THREE OF THEM GOODNIGHT, you wandered back into your bedroom to crawl into bed with Yunjin, who had thankfully been lulled into a deep sleep. You, on the other hand, were not so lucky.

No matter how hard you tried to sleep, any effort you made proved to be pointless. Your brain was running a million miles an hour, replaying the scene that just played out. Where you had been so close to getting actual confirmation of not only your feelings, but Beomgyu’s as well. How were you supposed to sleep now, with those answers being just down the hall from you?

You rolled around in your bed for what felt like an eternity, smacking your pillows in an attempt to get them comfortable, and trying to steal your blanket back from Yunjin, before finally giving up. You’d spend so much time pent up in there, and you found yourself developing an insatiable need to get up and drink some water.

With a sigh, you finally got up out of the bed. You glanced down at Yunjin, just to make sure she was still doing okay, relieved to see she was still fast asleep. You still made an effort to be quiet, though, tiptoeing across the room and opening the door as gently as you could.

You escaped into the hallway, shutting the door to the room that had started to feel more like a prison cell than a bedroom behind you. You allowed yourself to catch your breath for a moment, leaning back against your door and resting the back of your head on it. It wasn’t until you were out of there you’d realized how claustrophobic the room had felt.

Then, your worst fears came true. You watched in horror as one of the doors opposite you in the hallway opened, revealing the person you simultaneously most wanted and least wanted to see. Beomgyu stood there, looking just as surprised as you were to see you.

“Why are you still awake?” You asked him in a low voice.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

“I just needed some water.” You avoided your real answer, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh.” He nodded slowly, and though it was a bit dark in the hallway, you could still make out his eyes boring into your own. “I’ll let you do that then.” He smiled, then held out his hand as if he was letting you pass.

“Good night, Gyu.” You smiled at him, pushing yourself off the door to leave him there. And you thought that was where it would end, a quiet goodnight with questions left hanging in the air you could address later.

One thing you forgot about Beomgyu, though, was that he was impatient. And there was no way he was waiting any longer to solve the tension between you.

As you walked past, you were surprised to feel his fingers wrap and your wrist, and even more surprised when he spun you around to face him. Without any hesitation, his arm was around your waist, pulling you flush with him while his lips pressed up against your own.

You didn’t understand how you could have been so stupid before. Now that you were here, kissing Beomgyu, you couldn’t figure out how you’d never realized your attraction to him earlier. It was a good thing you finally did, though, because you were unsure how you had lasted this long without kissing him, since it felt like the greatest thing on the whole planet.

He kissed you hungrily, as though he’d been waiting his whole life just to kiss you. His hands were all over, moving from your waist to your cheeks, to your neck, and up into your hair. You had discovered a hungriness in yourself as well, though, tangling your fingers in his long, black locks to pull him closer to you.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were like that, kissing each other like the other was water in a desert and you’d been dying of dehydration. You were overcome with this overpowering need to have him closer to you, to have him all over you. As your lips moved in sync, you desperately clung to him, never wanting to let him go.

But he let go of you, breaking the kiss between you and instead resting his forehead against your own while the two of you caught your breath. You wanted more of him, you wanted to dive back in, but you somehow gathered the strength to hold yourself back.

“I meant… I meant something like this.” He whispered to you in breaths, and you glanced up at him through your eyelashes to see him staring down at you.

The realization of what just happened hit you like a truck. In the last 24 hours, you’d broken up with your boyfriend so he could be with his best friend, said ex boyfriend made you realize your feelings for your roommate, then you made out with your roommate in the hallway while all of your friends were sleeping.

You were absolutely screwed.

authors note: hahaha 😝 that was crazy 😝 y/ngyu finally making out what???? crazy!!!!! i hope u all enjoy this chapter i was giggling sm while making it

tag list: @therealhyunjingf @jakeshands @wccycc @captivq @sansluvr @luvdokja @squishy-maimon @urfaveuserlana @soobsfairy444 @millksea @jinjccns @zaeeeee @dimplewonie @baekberrie @luvsoobs @mazeinthemoon @moon-gyus @tyungun @soobsdior @qluvrv @txtkids @asunova @woncheecks @kaeslily @prettysung @ashxxkook @invusblog @kwnshi @lunaavity @stepout-09-15 @fairyoftaehyun @nyudove @ckline35 @pokyloky @dekusgirl @marsophilia @mutlishipperfangirl @7myoi @calumsfringe @jaxavance @yoongiigolden @17szn @wonioml @jaycheoluwu @kosmoskookie @4vonly @sunooluver

[cozycryptidcorner]

Abel the Asrai, Chapter 2 (lemon)

Tags: pegging, masturbation, dom reader/sub fae

Faebruary prompt:

To be honest, you were expecting to spend your first day on land inside a sex shop, after all, you had promised to help Abel find something he could use to find some relief. You did not, however, expect to be the expert consultant in the matter.

The little boutique is tucked away in the recesses of this island's designated red district, curious bystanders and sexually frustrated crewmen alike flocking to witness its various wares. The windows are high and open, letting a steady stream of sunlight filter through the hundreds of different phallic-shaped sculptures lining the shelves. It's the largest and most dependable store in your experience, and you plan on doing your own shopping once Abel is distracted. Or when you gather enough courage to do it in front of him.

He seems positively fascinated with all the different options, face turning a strange shade of teal as one of the clerks lets him hold the so-called Destroyer of Bussy, the damn thing as long as his forearm and as thick as a mast rope. It makes his long fingers look nothing more than a child's, swallowing up his fist and palm. You put an end to that debacle, knowing full well he needs to start out small and go up from there.

As you drag Abel away from the dragon-sized dildos, he seems to quickly forget about them in lieu of the far more decorative selections. Some of the more expensive examples are secured behind display glass, locks magicked against thieves. Cock rings embedded with pearls, handcuffs made from gold, the kind of objects that can't be used for much more than a show of opulence are snuggled in red velvet for the sake of being ogled at.

"What about this?" He asks, pointing to a maroon, glass blown object, one that's curled with bumps protruding on one side, suspiciously akin to a tentacle.

"That's a little too advanced for inexperienced hands," you suggest, "let's try to stick with a basic shape for now."

"And your hands are not advanced?" Abel asks, arching his eyebrows.

You try to brush him off, your own face heating up with embarrassment, "my hands are plenty advanced, but you can't tack this one to the wall to pleasure yourself with."

"And that's what I'll be doing?" He dares to ask. "I thought you were supposed to help me with my little problem."

"I'm helping you right now," you say, reaching over his shoulder and pulling down a rubber dildo. It's not the same size as the positively enormous Orc Cock Delight (trademark pending), far from it, but given Abel's slim frame and inexperience, it would be a decent start. "Here, this one's probably best."

As though inspecting its shape and sculpture like an art authenticator, he takes it from your fingers and holds it in his palm. Then, to check for its plasticity, he flicks his wrist, watching it wiggle with the movement, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. "Well," he remarks at last, "I trust your judgement on the matter."

"We can get the tentacle one too, if you like," you offer, "these are your wages you're spending."

Abel has also only recently been made aware of how money actually works when you're not some pampered prince living up in a tower. After some… hazing, you think, from the rest of the crew about some misconceptions of how one can't just go to the bank and withdraw a large deposit, he's a lot more thoughtful about what he says. And definitely more frugal, too.

You see his lips purse with frustration as he has to mentally tally what he has versus what he wants to spend, but you see a breakthrough moment where he relents. "Alright," he says almost sullenly, cradling his dildo like it's an infant, "this one will do for now."

"Good," you say, glancing over the selection of glass sculptures yourself to see if anything catches your eye, but you're mostly happy with what you already have. "Now we need to get you some lube."

"What for?" He asks, following close behind as you slowly make your way to the other side of the store.

"Trust me, you can't just shove something up a hole without a bit of lubricant. Ever had carpet burn before?"

By the way his face twitches, the answer's yes.

"Same concept, but inside your body." Glass vials decorate the shelves, some small, some large, each advertising a different benefit for its use. There are various massage oils, lube, and other select liquids that claim to aid with libido and arousal… Mouth pursed, you run your fingers over the labels, trying to decide which one you'd like to use on yourself as well. "This one says it's coconut and rum flavored."

"Why is it flavored?" Abel is also looking over the bottles, brow furrowed in thought.

"Sometimes your mouth goes where the lube is, and tasting honey lemon is more palatable to some." How does one get the taste of champagne in lube, you wonder, trying to figure out if you even need something infused with flavoring.

As though reading your mind, Abel asks, "which one would you prefer?"

Oh, fuck him, he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Why?" You ask, testily. "Do you think I'm going to be licking it off your poor little cock?"

Abel sucks his breath in, but you see that the barb did none of the damage you wanted it to. Instead, he seems…. Excited? Aroused? "Only if you want to."

Everything inside of you ignites, but you tamper it down. Sucking your breath in to ground yourself, you gesture vaguely in his crotch direction, "wouldn't be that great for you if you can't even cum from it."

"The long row of chastity belts seem to disagree." He points to the shop's opposite side, furthest from the windows, multiple mannequins showing off the various different styles available for purchase. "Might as well see what the appeal is since I'm stuck with one."

You don't want to admit he's making sense here… but he is. Wordlessly, maintaining eye contact, you aim your finger, watching him grasp the bottle without being told twice.

"You know," you say, walking leisurely over to the apparel section of the shop, "there's a lot of flack that comes from being the captain's special whore."

"Is that what your crew thinks of me?" He asks, running his fingers over a leather whip.

"You're not particularly subtle about it."

"Only because you weren't paying attention to my advances."

"Only because I didn't want you to think I only brought you aboard for the pleasure of wrecking your virgin ass."

He snickers but doesn't say anything in response, now looking over the different options to hook his dildo onto. Though, since it's really your decision, you begin poking around the mannequins yourself. Even though you wouldn't necessarily want something with all the bells and whistles, maybe one that's colored to set off your eyes? Some of the leather ones have been stained with various hues and tones.

"I just want you to know that I do already have a strap," you say, picking a new one out, "it's just not on my ship."

"So you're telling me," Abel says, almost completely serious save for that slight twitch on his mouth, "that you don't fuck every single damsel in distress you come across?"

You sigh loudly, heading towards the front of the store to purchase your tiny collection of pleasure toys. "Not all of them, just the ones that ask me so nicely."

Abel hums, and you sense a trace of jealousy aimed towards your previous bedmates, but he doesn't say anything more. Once the both of you complete your purchases, hiding them in your respective satchels, you hop down the steps out of the shop. It's just the afternoon, with plenty of time left in the day, but you know that Abel is quite literally aching to try out his new toys, so you let him drag you back to the docks.

"Where are we going?" He asks in protest as you take him down to the lower decks instead of your private room.

"Do you have any idea how many people probably ran their hands over that thing before we bought it?" You're relieved to see that no one's occupying the kitchen, especially since the cook isn't a fan of people using the giant kettles to do what you're about to.

There's a barrel of water already sitting to the side, mostly for washing dishes and scrubbing the floor. You find a clean pot and fill it halfway full of the seawater, setting it on the still lit wood stove to boil. With little ceremony, you rummage through his satchel, pulling out the dildo, and plop it into the water to boil.

In the meantime, Abel seems to struggle over what he should be doing with his hands. Nervously, he folds and unfolds his fingers, weaving them together and pulling them apart, only occasionally looking you in the eye.

"Are you okay?" You ask, and he jumps.

"Y-es," he mumbles, "just excited."

"We don't have to do this today if you're-"

"I am literally begging you," he interrupts, face blushing, "to help me now. Please."

Steam begins to curl up from the pot. You nod, poking at the rubber cock with a stick, as though that will somehow speed the process. "Just a few more moments, Abel."

Once the thing is done sanitizing, and in the safety of your cabin, the door firmly locked, you can hear his breath quickening as you pull out the different objects to start experimenting with. Slowly, you pull at the front of your leather fest, loosening the laces until it's wide enough to pull off. Your nipples rise, not from cold, but from arousal, hard at the promise of shoving that false cock up his ass.

"Abel," you direct, calmly, "you need to take off your clothes."

He obeys without question, pulling his shirt up over his head and throwing it on your chair. His body has filled out slightly with muscle, no longer a wiry frame of skin and bones, but he's still not nearly as stocky as you or the rest of your crew. Anyone on this ship could lift him over their head and toss him across the deck like he weighs nothing.

Already, he's so excited that he's erect, though the head of his cock is swollen with unspelt arousal and pleasure.

"Did you ever touch yourself after the spell?" You ask, coming up close, resting your hands on his bare hips.

"Yes," he whispers, eyes almost ashamed.

"It's alright," you rub your thumbs in soothing circles right over the bump of his bone, "I'm just wondering how this works." Pause, let him think. "Did you ever um… leak precum at all?"

He blinks. "I don't understand."

You try to rephrase the question. "When you touch yourself, sometimes before you finish, a clear liquid will come out. Did that ever happen, or no?"

"No, nothing comes out." His voice is slightly raspy, you aren't sure if it's from embarrassment. "I've always had to use lotion or oils, and it would feel good for a little while. Then it would just hurt."

"And you would have to wait until it went away," you nod, as though this isn't the first time you've dealt with such a stupid, controlling and abusive curse. "But the wording is going to be our friend, here, and many males cum when being penetrated without the use of hands."

"Thank you." There's an awful lot of hope in his eyes, so you bite your lip and pray to whatever god that might hear for your success.

"Help me out of my clothes." You gloss over his adoration, feeling a tightness in your stomach.

He gets on his knees, watching you for any twitch of approval you might give, and begins to unclasp the straps on your boots—one by one. When you step out of them, you don't even have to tell him where to go next, because he's lifting your shirt up and kissing your stomach as he works your belt. Carefully, he undoes the buckle, sliding it out and opening up your waistline.

Down go your pants, then undergarments, and you take the initiative to remove your shirt yourself. Now you're also naked, standing before Abel, just two bodies open for mutual exploration. His breath quivers as you reach up and brush some hair away from his face, dragging your fingers down to cup the side of his face. Slowly, as though you both have all the time in your little shared infinity, you press your lips up against his.

This isn't the first time you've kissed. The first time was after a particularly brutal sword fight that you had managed to win with only a few scratches, Abel practically jumped on you once you had kicked your opponent overboard. That one was quick, numb with relief and over faster than it started. Now there's time, locked away from the prying eyes of your crew.

Abel has kissed before, that you can tell by the way his lips move and adjust to where you lead them. You wonder if he had done it in some hidden nook somewhere in the palace he grew up in, under cover of darkness, all hormones and drive without the promise of relief. The practice has paid off, you decide, leading him back to your bed, gently setting him down, legs spread.

"Alright," you breathe, "show me where you touch yourself."

His face is dark and blue, mouth half-open, his tongue swiping over his lips. You get the bottle of lube out, pouring some onto the palm of your hand as he slowly begins to trace the outline of his cock. Propping one of your knees up on the bed, with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, you begin to mimic his movement, rubbing the lube up the shaft and over the head. Abel winces and whimpers at how cool it is.

For encouragement, you press your mouth onto his neck, gently nipping at the skin. "You're doing so good right now, baby, it's okay."

Slowly, you cover the entirety of his cock in the lube, pumping your wrist and watching it throb and pulse between your fingers. Abel was right, nothing seems to bead out from the slit at the top, his stones even quicker to puff up and become swollen. As he arches his back, leaning towards the mattress, his hips quake and shake, but where you might expect a ribbon of white to burst out of the head, nothing happens.

You suck in your breath sympathetically rubbing the tip with your thumb to see if you can't tease anything out, but whatever cursed him is concrete and binding. When you retract your hand, he almost whines, face bright with blood, tears threatening his eyes, lower lip swollen from his teeth biting down. At this point, you think, impotence would have been the kinder option because the brief sensation of pleasure would quickly be overruled by the misery of being unable to actually spill.

"Good boy," you whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, "that must have hurt, but you're so strong for me."

He lets out a little whimper, one you swallow away with a kiss. Slowly, he lays back against your blankets, letting you straddle his waist as you nip his lips far gentler than you usually would.

"There are two ways I can take you," you say, your tits pressed up against his chest, "like this, with your legs spread out, or from behind, while you're on your hands and knees. Since this is your first time, you may pick."

He squirms beneath you, his cock painfully hard and delightfully present against your stomach. As you drum your fingers right by his ears, you can see the gears running circles in his head, carefully weighing the pros and cons of each position while so aroused his entire pelvis must feel like it's being crushed.

"Whatever you don't choose, we can do next time," you offer, hoping that might motivate him to choose a bit better.

"I-" his face becomes more flushed than it already is, "I just want to look in your eyes."

Oh, he’s sweet, the little fucker. If he keeps this kind of syrupy attitude, you might just end up falling in love.

You slide back off the bed, planting yourself firmly between his legs. "Like this?"

"Yes… please." He adds the last bit like an afterthought, but he's learning at least.

"Good boy," you purr, gently rubbing his thigh. "I'll put on the strap."

He watches you like you're a prized prostitute putting on a strip show for the ages, irises locked on your hands as you begin to pull at the various buckles and buttons. Carefully, you loop his choice dildo through the metallic ring centered right in front of your pelvis, tightening the straps to secure it in place. Once you're satisfied it won't fly off once you start thrusting, you grab the bottle of lube and bring it over to where Abel lies.

Pouring some out into your hand, you warn, "this is going to feel a bit strange at first. Since you're not used to it, I will move slowly, but you need to tell me if it hurts."

He nods sharply, his breath quickening as you start massaging his ass with the lube. You're careful here, wondering if it might be easier on him if his legs were restrained, one hand firmly on a thigh while the other experimentally prods at his hole.

"You're doing so well," you tell him, pushing your thumb up into his asshole while he whimpers. "You're going to take this cock so good, Abel, it's going to slide right in."

After adding a touch more of lube, you push your index and middle finger in together, making a gradual scissoring motion to stretch him out further. His breath quickens, his hands clawing at your blankets, but he doesn't say anything beyond a soft, wordless moan. Satisfied with how his body seems to be adapting to the intrusion, you add a third finger, and begin to pump in and out in a sort of thrusting motion.

"How does that feel?" You ask, watching the way his cock twitches and shudders.

"Good," he manages to choke, his eyes begging you for more.

"I think you're ready," you nod, taking the bottle of lube from the bed and tantalizingly rubbing it onto your fake cock. "Are you? Do you want me to start thrusting into you, baby?"

"Yes, please," his breathing accelerates, his face wild and pained.

You stretch his ass out, careful with the head of the dildo as you slowly push it in. Just to make it easier on him, you pull his knees up, spreading his legs out further and holding them steady while he quivers. Then, inch by inch, you keep moving forward until you've buried it to the hilt, your hips brushing up against his innermost thigh. You stay like that for a moment, allowing him to get used to the object's size and intrusion, petting his thighs right where your hands rest to offer some comfort.

"Does it hurt much?" You ask soothingly.

"Just a bit," he murmurs, wiggling a little as though trying to get comfortable, "not as much as I thought it might."

"Good," you bump your hips a bit, just so he knows what you're about to do. Still moving without a bit of urgency, you move back, pushing your hips away, watching his face as the pain transitions away into pleasure. Then, repeating the previous movement, you thrust forward, a bit quicker this time.

"Fuck," he curses, "that feels… that feels nice."

At that behest, you pick up the pace slightly, still going significantly slower than usual, but still maintaining a structured speed. "You like it, baby?"

"Yes," he breathes, "I like it."

"Good," you keep going, watching his body struggle to stay still as you begin to up the speed of your thrusts.

He raises his hands to his mouth, biting down, so he doesn't cry out. You feel his thighs spasm and shake beneath your fingers, his body rolling up against yours as though silently begging for more. His eyes are shut tight, brow furrowed, a strange expression twitching at his face like he's experiencing a sensation that he doesn't know is positive or negative.

"I think," he gasps, his hips thrusting in their own accord, "I- It's-"

A thick, white spray of liquid shoots out of his cock, flying high and landing on his stomach. It doesn't stop there, though, seemingly a lifetime's worth of unspelt cum trying to escape while it can, a thick, hot layer erupting out and dripping down on his waist in tandem to your thrusts. You don't stop, either, especially not when he cries out, holding his legs firmly in place as he squirms and sobs with pleasure. Only once his cock falls limp do you stop, pulling the dildo out, and a river of lube drips down his ass.

He's shaking, as though experiencing some kind of awakening. As he props himself up on his elbows, he looks down, noticing the ribbons of cum that have accumulated on his chest and pelvis, then at you. After he sees some on his hand, he licks it, not to be coy, not to be sexy, but with the general curiosity of someone who has never tasted cum in his life.

"It's salty," he says, blankly, voice void of either dashed or met expectations. Like he legitimately has no idea what he's supposed to think.

And then he begins to cry.

You're so shocked by the action that you just stand there, dildo still in hand, as tears fall out of his eyes and dribble down his cheeks. Then you snap into action, wiping your sticky fingers on an available towel before threading them through his hair, pulling him close in an embrace, ignoring the cum that's now on your skin. His face is wet against your chest, his arms wrapping around your torso in a tightening hug, chest shuddering.

"You did so well," you say soothingly, petting his hair as he tries to get himself under control, "I'm so proud of you, Abel, you really did so wonderfully for your first time. You can cry if you need to, I know this was probably very difficult."

Before you know it, you're laying down with him, his body pressed up against every single curve and crevice of yours. His face is up against your chest, arms around your waist, and you hold his head in the crook of your elbow. While his chest shudders and shakes, you whisper and murmur a myriad of encouragement and praise, but you think that's only adding fuel to his emotional fire.

So you let him process his state of mind, remaining present throughout so he has someone to lean on. After a while, he quiets down, but he makes no motion to either sit up or start round two. To be entirely honest, both of you are probably done for the day, especially with how he's handling it, but you can't walk around with stale cum on your body. Once his breathing evens out, you untangle your limbs from him, waking him up from a shivering nap.

"Hey," you say softly, poking at him, "we need to clean off."

"R-right," he sniffs, rubbing his eyes, "I-I'm sorry, that was-"

"Don't apologize," you say, almost sharply, "that must have felt very intense, and you have a right to express your emotions."

He kisses you, slowly, lazily, and you cradle his face in your hands.

"We only need to wipe off a portion of this gunk," you say, unbuckling the strap from your waist, "I think that tonight we can spend some extra money and time in a bathhouse."

"What do you mean?" He asks, glancing down at the mess he spilt on his skin.

"There's this absolutely incredible bathhouse up the mountain, right where a hot spring is. The water is supposed to be three times as effective for cleaning and rejuvenating your skin or whatever, I think you deserve a little extra pampering tonight."

"Really?" He looks like he's about to cry again.

"Come on," you pull him up until he's sitting, "let's first get marginally cleaner, so it doesn't look like we've participated in a street-side orgy."

As he pours a bit of powdery soap in your tub of scrubbing water, you begin to unbraid his hair, brush in hand, running your fingers through his green tangles to smooth out the evidence of sex. He sponges his chest and torso clean, using smelling oils to hide the scent of cum as you begin to twist and knot his hair again.

"You handled this size very well for the most part," you say, using a pick to sharply part a section of his hair away, "I think that you might be ready to upgrade in a few months, we could get that little glass one that you wanted so bad."

"I would like that," he rasps, face just as flushed as when you bottomed out inside him.

Once you clean yourself off, you dress and leave, Abel in tow. The bathhouse is a large building, overtaking a fair amount of the presumably dead volcano that overlooks the bay. You've been there before, most of your crew has, but it's the sort of place that's so far from the docks that it's a hassle to get to. By the time you're up the cliffs, Abel is panting like he's never walked this far before.

You pay the teller, not bothering to make Abel take care of his own entrance fee. A wave of wet, sticky heat hits your face when you walk into the large marble atrium, the steam from the hot springs thick in the enclosed area. There's a convenient marble map on the wall, the building's outline labeled with thick letters.

"Where do you want to go first?" You ask, mentally wondering how they make the currents for the so-called wonderous whirlpool.

He points to one of the private pools, the side of his mouth twitching up.

"Those costs-"

"I can pay," he says, patting his satchel.

Okay, he wants to play games, you can get on that level. So you shrug, and follow him down the hallway, down the stairs to the long row of private rooms. After paying the attendant down there, you pick out a random section and close the wooden door behind you for some much-needed privacy.

Abel is already stripping bare, throwing himself in the water once naked. A window lets a small amount of light through its wooden blinds, only bright enough to see his outline. Once you're also undressed, you slip into the water, sighing with relief at both the heat and the scent of the oils. You settle on a curved section, probably explicitly built for laying on, and slowly begin to scrub at your skin with a bar of pumice you brought.

Oh, and Abel seems to be enjoying himself a lot, floating on his back, face staring up at the ceiling. He looks like he's in a faraway place, mouth in a soft, genuinely content smile. You let him be in his own little world for as long as he needs to be, satisfied with cleaning the last remaining hints of sex off your body while waiting for him to come back to you.

"You know," he says finally, rising out from the water and coming close, "despite everything else, I was very spoiled as a prince."

"No," you deadpan, "really?"

"Yeah- wait," he sniffs out your sarcasm much better now, "I mean, yes, it's probably undeniably obvious."

"Supremely so," you say, remembering how another captain asked you if you were holding Abel hostage because he was too goddamn refined compared to the rest of your crew.

"I was always told that I wasn't in a place to complain," he angles your body so he can play with your hair, "and I suppose in some aspects, that was true, but now I know that everything that happened beneath that roof, golden gilded or no, was… not healthy."

"No, Abel, I can't say that it was anything remotely so." Every time you hear about some aspect of his childhood, you're filled to the brim with murderous rage on his behalf.

"But at least now I can say that after living in the quote real world, I most definitely prefer this to that." You feel his fingers twist your hair into braids. "For example, your crew doesn't follow your commands because they're afraid of what will happen if they don't, they follow your commands because you've proven to them that you're a trustworthy and capable leader."

You open your mouth, but he interrupts you.

"Luck has nothing to do with it, either. I saw you dive after a freed slave in open water because she couldn't swim. That's not luck, that's courage, and those are the kinds of actions that your people take to heart."

"I guess," you don't like accepting heartfelt compliments, especially when you think you don't deserve them.

"Which is why," he finishes, pulling you closer, "I trusted you enough to ask you for help."

"And are you satisfied with the help I provided?" You ask, remembering how much cum he had spilt from that one single session.

"Oh, yes," he purrs, seemingly completely recovered from his near mental breakdown. "I'd give you a five-star review, but I don't think I like to share."

"Really? I garner that well of a reputation?" You ask, watching his hand slide between your legs.

"I want to thank you," he says, mouth on your ear, "but I need you to show me how. Teach me where to touch you?"

You suck in a lungful of steam, watching his long, elegant fingers slowly draw little circles on your thighs. "You're going to be walking all the way back with an erection."

"But you would like that," he accuses, entirely correct, "watching me walk back while so fucking hard I may start crying."

You believe you will, realizing that the idea of him trying to keep his fucking shit together while out in public does has some kind of appeal. So you remove yourself from his lap, hauling your body up onto the cool marble floor. Trying to seem enticing, you spread your legs for him, bringing your fingers down to offer up a clearer view of your entrance and clit. Breathing harder, you say, "Remember when we kissed?"

He nods solemnly.

"Similar concept, but here. Use your tongue and mouth."

With reverence, he places a hand on both your thighs, sinking down to his knees. Of all the things you've noticed about him, one of his better qualities is how he's such a fast learner. He kisses your lips as instructed, eyes flickering up to make sure you approve of his actions. When you nod encouragingly, he continues, opening his mouth to start licking at your pussy.

You lean back, pushing your weight onto your hands, lifting up a leg and placing it on his shoulder. "That's good Abel, just like that."

He presses his face further into your slick skin, kissing and sucking on the dark puckered flesh. While his tongue is only slightly rougher than you would have expected, it's not… painfully so, no, it's more like an added texture you didn't know would feel good. Up and down, he licks, capturing a bit of your opening between his teeth and gently pulling, if only to see your reaction.

To help him a little more, you push two of your fingers between your legs, finding your clit. "Here, Abel, lick me here, baby."

The obedient little thing, he does, finding it with ease now that you've directed him. He kisses it with reference, like it's a thing to be worshipped, taking your clit between his lips and sucking. When you hiss with pleasure, his eyes turn elated, like the two of you just shared an intimate secret, and he does it again.

"Fuck, Abel," you gasp, trying to find words of encouragement, "you lick my pussy so good, baby, it's like you were made for me."

"Does that make me your little whore?" He asks, voice thick with arousal.

"That makes you my special little whore," you correct, tucking a flyaway hair behind his ear.

He smiles lazily, pressing his mouth back between your legs, returning to work with more enthusiasm than before, flicking his tongue against your clit. Then, as though mimicking how you had opened him up earlier, he slowly presses a thumb through your slit, rubbing your inner, slick ridges. Fuck, he's a clever little bastard, and by the way you buck in his mouth, he's going to know it, too.

The pressure in your stomach grows, a wave of warm arousal dripping out of your core. Abel licks it all up like a seasoned prostitute, pulling you closer to the edge so gravity shifts your body down. He presses up, mouth and nose grinding up against your clit, now, adding far more pressure than before. You swallow thickly, trying to find the words to praise him, but thoughts start escaping your mind, replaced by pleasure.

"Good," you manage to croak out, "that feels good."

You can feel the smugness emanating off of him from making you speechless, his boldness only growing as you further spiral. As your hips start jerking, your thighs shaking, he continues to eat your pussy like he's a starving animal, the sounds from his open-mouthed sucking driving you positively mad.

It doesn't hit you all at once; instead, your orgasm comes in waves, each more volatile and pleasurable than the last. Abel must have sensed its arrival, locking his arms around your hips to hold you in place as you buck into his mouth. Nor does he deem you worthy of mercy, either, showing you every amount of vigor and determination you offered him barely hours before.

When you've ground it out, only plagued by a few aftershocks, he pulls away, a long trail of saliva and cum connecting his mouth to your core. And he smiles, he smiles, heaving for breath, lips flushed and swollen.

Slowly, you slide back into the water, legs weak and still shaking, right onto his lap. True to your prediction, he's hard, cock upright in the water, but he doesn't seem too bothered as you straddle his waist. You kiss him, taking things nice and slow, tasting the scented oils and sulfuric water along with your pleasure on his tongue.

"Did I do good?" He asks, digging for more praise.

But you give it to him, he deserves it after this kind of day. "Yes, Abel, you ate my pussy like a fucking slut."

His breathing quickens in excitement.

"I don't think the whores down in the red district could eat me out like that, and you did it on your first try." You pet the side of his face, running your fingertips over his pointed ears. "My clever, sweet little prince."

He nuzzles his face between your breast as you play with one of his braids.

"I think I'm going to keep you," you muse aloud, "would you like that? Would you like to be my bedmate from now on?"

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. "Yes."

"Good," you whisper, tracing the path of his spine, "I think I can buy you that glass dildo, after all."

[taetaespeaches]

“I find you absolutely fascinating.”

namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.2K

a/n: Lovelies! Namjoon and Daisy/reader are being cute and soft and in love again :(( I mean at this point you probably know the drill. These two are about to take a big step and thinking back on how they started... they deserve this! I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! :))

Strolling through the museum halls, you found it quite difficult to focus on the masterpieces surrounding you as you watched Namjoon stand in front of a colorful contemporary painting. Inspecting the piece, he leaned closer to it, his gaze bouncing from feature to feature within the work.

Nodding to himself, he put his pen to his notebook, jotting down a thought. You couldn’t help but grin at the way he absorbed knowledge, every piece of art intriguing him and inspiring him. It was something you truly loved about him.

Looking up from the paper, he slowly dragged his eyes from the piece to you, his orbs meeting yours as he noticed your smile. A bashful grin overtook his features, his dimples appearing as he stepped closer to you.

“Are you amused?” He asked, you nodding.

“Always by you,” you beamed. “I find you absolutely fascinating,” you confessed, amping up the cheesy tone of your voice to emphasize your playful teasing, though the words were genuine.

Shaking his head as he let out a breathy chuckle, he draped his arm around your lower back. Pushing his lips to your forehead, he snickered against your skin.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, just before leaving a sweet peck to your temple.

“If you are,” you told him, Namjoon nodding his head. As he started leading you down the hall toward the exit, you halted, the man looking at you curiously. “Dimples, what do you think of this one?” You pointed to a painting, Namjoon’s head darting to the piece.

Humming in thought, he squinted at the painting. “I like the palette,” he nodded. “The colors are cool in tone, it’s interesting,” he continued, his eyes drifting back to you as you stared at the piece intently, feigning a serious expression. A smirk curved up on Namjoon’s lips as he watched you pretend to critique the piece. “What are you doing?” He chuckled, you fighting to hold back your grin.

“It’s phallic, is it not?” You asked, Namjoon’s eyes widening as he cocked his head, looking back to the painting.

“What?” He asked in shock. “Is it?” He questioned further, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah,” you held your hand out, dragging your finger in the air to draw the shape you were seeing. “Like that, see?” You asked, turning your head toward Namjoon.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, squeezing his eyes shut as he lowered his head, trying to hide his amusement.

“Jot that down,” you nodded to his journal with a smirk, Namjoon taking a deep breath as you began walking away from him. As you left down the hall, your boyfriend watched you go, shaking his head in utter amusement and fondness, a massive dimply smile spread across his face.

Crowds of people surrounded you as you walked down the busy Seoul sidewalk, your hand intertwined with Namjoon’s. After about thirty minutes of walking, and finding yourselves at Olympic Park, Namjoon bumped his shoulder against yours. “Are you hungry?” he asked, looking to your face to see you smirk.

“Starving,” you giggled, Namjoon chuckling as he nodded.

“Good, come with me, babe,” he said mysteriously as you led you further into the park, your confusion growing.

“Are we getting something delivered?” You asked him, the man simply smiling.

“Something like that,” he said, giving you no further hints, you huffing though you couldn’t hold back your grin.

You walked for a few more minute, watching other couples stroll the park, people play with their dogs, parents as they watched their kids run around, until your eyes landed on a couple across the field who looked quite familiar.

“Wait is that Jin?” You asked your boyfriend, pointing at the recognizable man and his fiancé.

“Ah,” Namjoon simply said, changing the direction of his walking to get to his friend. “I almost walked right past you guys,” your boyfriend called out to them, Jin lifting his arms into the air.

“I thought you already did, you took forever,” Jin complained, you looking between the three people completely lost.

“What is going on?” You asked, just before giving the girl a hug, not missing the way she randomly held your face between your hands as she beamed at you, though you chose to ignore it for the time being as you simply giggled at her. Namjoon smiled shyly at you just as you followed his gaze to the picnic setup in the field and slowly realized what was happening. “Wait is this for us?” You asked in surprise. “A picnic?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon chuckled. “These two set it up for us. And cooked everything,” he explained, you looking to the couple with widened eyes.

“Oh my god, guys, that’s so sweet, thank you,” you expressed your gratitude, Jin brushing you off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s all Namjoon’s idea, he just needed some help with the execution,” Jin explained as your lips spread into a warm smile, your eyes glued to Namjoon as he ducked his head slightly, the man bashful under the attention.

The couple didn’t stay long, leaving you and Namjoon to enjoy your picnic alone, however your friend kept looking back at you both as she walked away with Jin.

“They were acting weird, don’t you think?” You pointed out to Namjoon as you both sat on the cute little picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, they seemed about normal,” Namjoon countered as he opened Jin’s old picnic basket.

“No seriously, look, she keeps looking back at us,” you nodded to the couple, your boyfriend looking after them with a small chuckle.

“She’s always strange though, is that really any different to how she normally acts?” He reminded you of your friend’s sometimes weird behaviors. Giggling, you nodded.

“Ok, kind of true,” you confirmed. “And I’m letting you dissing my friend’s eccentricity slide for now since you planned this adorable picnic” you teasingly added as you watched Namjoon lift a bottle of champagne from the basket. “Ooh, fancy,” you smirked, Namjoon’s dimples on display as he dug further inside the basket, setting different food containers onto the blanket. “Jesus, it’s a feast.”

“You said you were starving,” he pointed out, you giggling as you reached forward and opened a container of fruit. Bringing a berry to your lips, you watched the man as he uncorked the bottle of champagne. His face was full of concentration as he twisted the metal cage that held the cork in place. Dropping the wire on the blanket, he pushed up on the cork, both of you flinching at the sound of the pop, the cork being sent a few feet away and landing in the grass. “Oh, shit,” Namjoon mumbled as he set the bottle down, nearly knocking it over as he hurried after the cork, you having to catch it before it spilled all over your picnic set up.

Chuckling to yourself, you looked toward the man as he adorably made his way back, holding the object out toward you with a goofy grin on his face. There were several moments, nearly constant actually, where you looked at Namjoon and remembered all over again just why you wanted to spend your life with him. And as he sat back down, less than gracefully, dropping the cork on the blanket proudly, you found yourself in yet another one of those moments. What a blessing it would be to spend forever with this man.

As you enjoyed the meal your good friends put together for you, all you could think about was how unbelievably lucky you were in this lifetime to have found Namjoon. And how privileged you were to be on the receiving end of his love, along with his forgiveness. The man could have given up on you early on in your relationship, leaving you behind when you gave him nothing but insecurity and inconsistency. But he stayed by your side, showing you the care and patience that you’d never been given before him. He was a treasure, and he was yours.

The sun was setting over the city, casting Namjoon in a heavenly golden glow. Staring at him fondly, you wondered if he understood how beautiful he was; how beautiful you found him to be.

“You’re gorgeous,” he suddenly interrupted your thoughts, your jaw dropping slightly as he stole the compliment you were just about to give him.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” you grinned, Namjoon letting out a breathy chuckle. “You really are gorgeous, Dimples,” you appreciated him sincerely. “I never tire of looking at you, or talking to you, sitting with you in silence,” you shared, Namjoon’s eyes softening as he stared at your face. “You really are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across,” you whispered.

Namjoon’s adam’s apple bobbed against his throat as he swallowed nervously, a warm smile overtaking his features. “I have something for you,” he announced, digging inside his bag. Watching him curiously, your eyes fell upon the envelope he pulled out. Presenting it to you bashfully, you beamed.

“What’s this?” You asked as you took it, reading your name that was written across the front of the envelope. Carefully, you opened it, pulling out a folded piece of paper. You weren’t sure what the contents of the letter would be, but you had a feeling this was going to be a major moment for you and Namjoon. Opening it carefully and slowly, your eyes scanned the words across the page, mostly scribblings with crossed out words. But the first sentence told you exactly what you were looking at.

Etched in hangul were the words person and love. And below that, You make live to a love, was written in English.

Your heart raced as you realized this was the draft he started with when writing his song Trivia: Love.

Other single lines were scratched across the page such as, What if I go? If I go, would you be sad? And You’re my person, my desire, my pride, my love, my one and only love.

You could feel tears pricking your eyes as you read over the paper, the sentiment of the lyrics hitting you all over again; the love and vulnerability and purpose he revealed on the page, all feelings you caused him. The word destiny was written with an arrow pointing to, we’re meant to be. Do you feel the same?

At the bottom of the page, he abandoned single lyric ideas where he instead decided to write his thoughts plainly.

“This is love. I know it is, I just feel it. I’ve never truly known it before, but this is it. Like how the moon rises after the sun. You give meaning to my memories. Will you make memories with me forever?”

Lowering the paper to your lap, you looked across the picnic blanket to find your boyfriend holding a ring between his fingers, his eyes soft and large as he stared at you nervously. “Will you make memories with me forever?” He asked you, your breath leaving your lungs as the love you felt for the man rushed through your frame.

You couldn’t even form words as you began nodding, smiles overtaking both of your faces as you stood on your knees. Namjoon mimicked your actions as he met you in the middle, your mouths crashing into a needy kiss. Ignoring the other park goers, you and Namjoon were lost on cloud nine together.

Trailing kisses across your face, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you against his frame as he held you close. “I’ve wanted to marry for years,” he chuckled against your hair, you smiling against his neck in response. “I wrote this song knowing I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I’ve known for years too,” you assured him. “You’re incredible, you know that?” You asked him, chuckling as you pulled away from him to look at his stunning face. His eyes held your gaze for a moment before they landed on your hand, his fingers grasping your hand as he slid the ring into place.

“Here’s to a lifetime of being forever fascinated by each other,” he said cheesily with a massive dimply grin.

“A lifetime,” you beamed. “That sounds perfect.”

Staring at each other for a moment, Namjoon broke the moment first by lunging forward, pushing you to the ground as he positioned himself above you. Kissing you softly, your hands brushed over the sides of his face.

“I almost put the ring in your champagne glass but I was afraid you’d swallow it,” he giggled adorably, your finger tracing over the dimple in his cheeks before dragging over his smiling lips.

“Now that would have been a story,” you teased as Namjoon kissed the tip of your finger. “Thank you, Joon,” you said suddenly, his eyes widening in question. “For believing in us even when I couldn’t.”

Smiling softly, he shook his head at you as if he shouldn’t be thanked for such a silly easy thing to do. But instead of speaking against your gratitude, he chose to gently press his lips to yours. Because it didn’t matter how you started your relationship or who believed in what. You were there, and you were in love. And he knew you both would be loving each other for as long as you both lived in this lifetime, and even into the next.

[liamloveslarry]

so the lovely holly @nympholouis kindly gave me a prompt idea to write in that harry and louis meet at a modern day art exhibition where there is no talking allowed, but there is a lot of eyebrow wiggling and finger pointing going on. 

i tried my best to come up with something so if you want to read it, it’s just under the cut! :)

Harry sighed quietly through his nose as he tapped his foot a little brokenly against the hard polished floor. 

Liam had planned for them to attend him the local art museum that had been advertising a new exhibition for weeks, something about wanting to be more cultured and ‘take it all in’; to be honest Harry thinks it’s just a ploy for Liam to chat up the receptionist that he met on a night out a few weeks ago.

He checked his watch one more time and saw it was nearing 1 o’clock, nearly time for the exhibition to start. He’d had it explained to him that it was one of those shows where you couldn’t talk, and instead you were led around the exhibition as the guide spoke about which piece of art you’d stopped in front of. 

A soft buzzing ejected him from his thoughts and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, seeing there was a new message from Liam.

Liam: Sorry mate!!!! WON’T be able to come, sumfin just happened last minute so gonna have to cancel! Lol enjoy anyway! Maybe you’ll meet someone there ;)

He rolled his eyes and placed his phone back into his pocket. Great, he thought, so not only could he not he speak, he was now on his own.

It’s not that he didn’t particularly enjoy art, or attending galleries and museums, it’s just that he was planning on having a lazy Saturday to himself, chomping on cheesy snacks and catching up on his shows. So the fact that the person who originally wanted to come here, now wasn’t even turning up, annoyed him a tad, but he knows Liam wouldn’t cancel for the sake of it, so it must be something important.

It’s not like he can leave either, the tickets had cost them thirty quid each, thirty quid he could’ve spent on shitty snacks and wine, he thought, so he’s not going to waste it now by leaving.

He could see people starting to gather out the corner of his eye, murmuring quietly amongst themselves before the guide had told them to politely shut up. 

Harry’s eyes bugged a little as she shuffled over, joining the small group but straying to the back.

It was about ten minutes into the exhibition when the guide had stopped them in front of one of the pieces, Harry had looked up from where he was staring at the man in front’s shoe, which had a piece of tissue stuck underneath and snorted. 

The guide’s sharp eyebrows twitched as she glared through her pointy glasses and huffed under her breath, before carrying on with her sentence.

Harry pulled his lips in and tried not to laugh as he stared at what one could only assume as two people fucking. It wasn’t that it was necessarily sex, it was the fact that the artist had tried to depict the beautiful imagery of two people so passionate about one another, and whether intentional or not, had made the man’s penis entirely too big and the woman’s breasts nipple-less. He was confused as to whether there was a deeper meaning, and he’d probably get his answer if he listened to the snooty guide, but instead a sharp cough made his eyes flick over to where a man was standing, pulling the same face Harry was.

He was dressed in a soft grey sweatshirt and light wash jeans that tapered off just above his ankles, stark white trainers gleaming against the mahogany floor. 

Harry flushed a little as his eyes met his, and the man smirked, nodding his head towards the art piece and wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry tried to hold in a laugh but a tiny chuckle squeaked through his lips, so he placed his hand over his mouth and looked at the floor. 

When he looked back up the man wasn’t watching him anymore, but there was a small smile gracing his lips.

As the group wandered through the museum, and the guide’s voice droned over them like an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t stop, the only part that made this whole thing bearable was that Harry and the nameless man had begun to communicate with their hands and certain facial expressions. 

Throughout the tour, Harry would pretend to fall asleep, eyes rolling back into his head and mouth opening just a little as if to imitate a snore, making the other man laugh quietly, fist closing over his mouth. The man would often in return, slyly point at their guide discreetly and copy what she was doing, pinching his lips as if he’d sucked on a lemon and use his fingers as a mouth, opening and closing them as she spoke, making Harry grin something manic.

Muted giggles and soundless laughter accompanied by scrunched eyes and red cheeks filled the hours, making it seem like it was just the two of them alone together in the room, until a rather rotund woman standing next to Harry sneezed so loud it made him jump. All of a sudden, the colours and lights and pictures flooded Harry’s vision, snapping him back to reality and making him realise, that no, it wasn’t just the two of them, and now there was substance staining Harry’s jacket while the woman profusely apologised and dabbed him with a tissue. Harry had glared and let himself be somewhat manhandled as the man who’d been making Harry giggle under his breath for the past hour shielded his mouth with his palm and pretended not to laugh.

The shake in his shoulders was a dead giveaway though.

-

After stumbling across a particularly phallic shaped object that stood proudly in the centre of the room, coated in white, its florescent shine twinkling underneath the soft spotlights, the man captured Harry’s eyes as he lifted one of his eyebrows and raised a fist to his right cheek, pumping his tongue to the side of the other, imitating a rather sexual gesture. 

Harry blushed and tried to contain a laugh by biting his lip, his fingers squeezing around nothing inside his jacket pocket as he stared at the man’s working jaw, willing himself to calm down, as it was probably strongly frowned upon to get hard in an art museum. 

The man had lowered his fist then, probably remembering where he was for a second, knowing he could get caught at any moment and winked at Harry, before turning back to face the object.

Pinpricks prickled and sprung across Harry’s entire body, and there was a certain warmth to his face that seemed to be growing the more he thought about the man standing just ten feet away. 

He was clearly cheeky, but he had kind eyes and an even brighter smile. His cap also hid most of his hair but a soft, artfully feathered fringe swooped across his forehead and across his brow bone.

The guide cut through his thoughts with a nasally announcement that this would be their last stop, and something heavy settled in Harry’s stomach. He frowned slightly when he thought about not being able to see the man again, and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity when he knew he probably didn’t feel the same.

So he’d imitated a perfectly platonic blowie and waggled his eyebrows a few times at Harry, it didn’t mean anything, just a way to pass the time, right? 

As the tour wrapped up and some gatherers dispersed while others stopped to chat to one another, Harry felt a small tug on his arm as he was leaving, and felt a drop of something in his pocket.

As he looked up, he caught the eyes of the man from before, leaving with one last smirk and a quirk in his brow, before jogging down the steps and racing towards the metro.

He felt something crumpled when he went to reach inside his pocket and pulled out a scrap piece of paper, black ink had transpired into hastily written words as he read:

‘I’m no artist, but I’ll gladly check you out’

Followed by a number and a name.

Louis.

-

And if Liam takes the credit in his best man speech years later, well, Harry thinks, he supposes he’s not wrong.

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: Phallic Judgement"

*Surprisingly, Dionysus had gone back to Rome to cause more mischief with Hermes, this time they've brought Ares along*

Dionysus: *again disguised as a wine seller* ok gentlemen, behold. The foulest creatures to crawl on the face of the earth. *Shows just random Roman citizens*

Ares: *who for some reason decided he wanted to disguise himself as the world's most intimidating slave* ......ugh....the goats? *Sees a goat*

Hermes: *cleverly disgusted as farmer* haha no. You see, these guys are absolutely weird. They insist of "rationing" Sapa, they have taxes for literally existing and above all.....their wine is watered down! But they have the best bread I've ever tasted though.

Ares: ... really?

Dionysus: don't be fooled by their baked goods my dudes. These are cruel and unrelenting scum folk. Uncultured, ignorant, and above all....they've inslaved every single country they've conquered.

Hermes: .....it's mostly about the wine isn't it?

Dionysus: ....*turns dramatically* their most unforgiving sin.

Ares: *has wondered off to see a statue of himself*.....my dick isn't THAT small.......*looks at the name plate saying "Mars"* ......I can't believe these guys misspelled my name....*takes some charcoal, scratches out Mars and writes Ares*

Centurion Gaurd: Excuse me slave! Where is your master! Slaves are not allowed near the devine statue of the gods.*sees that Ares has wrote his name on the statue's nameplate* What the?

Ares: *doesn't know the centurion was referring to him considering he's in disguise* .........*turns to the see the back of the statue* ....at least they got the ass right.

Centurion Gaurd: EXCUSE ME! Please stop making remarks about the sacred statue! You've defaced sacred property!

Ares: *slowly peaks over to the centurion* ....hey ugh there's a thing on your helmet*

Centurion Gaurd: oh really? *Pats around his helmet* where?

Ares: *points to the centurion's face* There's a shit attitude a little all over your FuCkInG ugly mug.

Centurion Gaurd: *realising what he meant* YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!

Dionysus: *walks into the situation* Oh there you are Skippy! Bad boy I thought I told you to stay close to me and not open your mouth! *takes a little stick and weakly whips Ares's shoulder with a single thing of wheat*

Ares: *confused* ...wut?

Centurion Gaurd: Is there YOUR disrespectful slave?

Ares: wait you said I was going to be a noblem-*gets a loaf of bread in his mouth by Hermes*

Hermes: please shut up or we'll leave you here to fend for yourself.

Ares: *kinda just enjoying the bread* hmfhmf.

Dionysus: You see my good sir, my slave is extremely stupid, dumb and has testicles the size of grapeseeds. He was used as a human kickball when he was an infant and was raised by goats. He can't help himself sometimes. *Tries to clean the charcoal off the statue*

Ares: *angry noises* ?!?

Centurion Gaurd: .....Ok...you have the pay the "Disrespectful Slave" tax fine.

Dionysus: .....*grumbles and takes a bag filled with gold coins* ....*gives it begrudgingly* .....*grits his teeth* have....a...good day.

Centurion Gaurd: *takes the gold and sees that it's drachma* .....hmm.....*takes out a piece of paper with a semi-crude wanted poster of Dionysus, Apollo and Hermes* ......hmm.....I watching you....sir. *leaves to find Mortus*

Dionysus: *turns to Ares and glares at him* ....you owe me 20 drachma.

Ares: *has finished eat the bread* Why? Don't these mortals know we're gods?

Dionysus: No! We're here in disguise so that was can destroy the city again. You are here to make sure the country doesn't get a chance to get back up.

Ares: Fuck yah. *Literally has no idea what he agreed to*

Hermes: *saw the wanted poster in the centurion's hand* ugh...guys we REALLY need to finish what we came here for because they're definitely on to us.

Dionysus: yeah yeah I know....come on let's go. I want to destroy the coliseum again.

Ares: what's a coliseum?

Dionysus: *suddenly a huge grin forms across his face* Hermes .....is the coliseum....open?

Hermes: let me check. *Literally speeds next to the coliseum and saw a Roman sign that says "Grand Re-Opening" and zips back to Dionysus* yeah. It's open.

Dionysus: perfect. *Pops a waterskin filled with wine, and chugs it* oh gods I'm FuCkInG dry. It's like this place sucks your very essence or something.

Hermes: hmm....yeah, shame really. *as he was following Dionysus and Ares, he accidentally dumbs into a familiar face* oops sorry miss.

Octavia: *turns around with a baby in her arms that looks suspiciously familiar* Oh pardon me sir. I didn't mean to bump into, the market seems rather busy today doesn't it?

Hermes: It's ok, I was just heading to-*knotices the baby* .....ugh...

Caius the baby: *smiles at Hermes as if he knew Hermes was his dad* ba-ba :D

Octavia: Oh sweetie, daddy is working. Oh children are so wonderous, even at a few months old, they have such an imagination. By the way, have we met before? You look so familiar....are you from the countryside?

Hermes: uuggggh *trying his best to not look Octavia in the eye* yeah, I get that all the time. Trust me I have some of my own, I mean children that is. Also no I don't think I have? *Literally hoping she doesn't recognize him even though he shape shifted into her husband a year ago*

Caius: *still happily cooing over his real dad*

Dionysus: come on buddy le-*put two and two together and scowls at Hermes* ......you didn't.

Hermes: ugh....

Dionysus: nevermind we're off! *He pulls Hermes to the direction of the coliseum*

Octavia: hmmm what a strange young man. He's handsome though.

Caius: *coos in disappointment* :(

*later*

Dionysus: *rubs his hands* hehehehehe....

Hermes: this better be worth it. I thought we would write our names on the temple walls here or something.

A Roman Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen! This grand reopening of the Coliseum shall be in honor of our Lord and Emperor Caeser!

Caeser: *does the Royal British wave*

Dionysus: peeeeerfect.

Hermes: ......hey I got to ask...why did you bring Ares?

Dionysus: some bulky bastard is currently the head champion gladiator here, he use to live on Crete before the Romans decided to kidnap a few warriors there....let's just say my pettiness will come with effort.

Hermes: ......ok seriously man what are talking about?

Dionysus: look no one says that their dick is bigger than mine and actually gets away with it.

Hermes: ....you know....you could just smite someone. I mean it's not graceful....but it's effective.

Dionysus: hoho, I'm going to make this extra dramatic.

The Roman Announcer: And now! You're great champion, Maximus the Well-Endowed!

Maximus: *a huge, hulking man came out, roars out* HAIL CAESAR! *Leans to the announcer* I am going to get my 20 hot virgin women after this right?

Announcer: *whispers* yes yes. AND HIS CHALLENGER *looks at a note which was scribbled on his hand* ..... "Skippy the Not-Well-Endowed"! *Looks back his hand still not believing what he had read*

Ares: *is just happy to get into a fight, however was oddly enough only was only wearing a loin cloth and a helmet, armed with a shield and spear* ......oh boy, a whole stadium just for killing? These people rock!

Hermes: ........you didn't....

Dionysus: yep.

Ares: *steps side to side like an exited kid* comeoncomeoncomeonstartthefighting.

Maximus: Alright Skippy, time to end your tiny dicked existence. *Raised his sword on to Ares but Ares was able to break it with his helmet* !?

Ares: ....that's it?

Maximum: *confused* ugh....*waves to order in more weapons, all of which fail to hurt Ares*

Ares: .......aw come on...you guys have some shitty ass weapons. Bet YOUR weapon is just as shit.

Maximus: grrrrr.....YOU PUNY SLAVE! *Rips off his armored skirt* See! You're fucking wrong!

Roman crowd: *gasps*

Dionysus: .....

Hermes: *whistles* holyshit....dude this guy is hung.

Dionysus: If there's one god who can contest me....the only god who's dick is so epic, so powerful, so irresistible, so near perfect......that Aphrodite can't FuCkInG resist it on a daily basis.

Hermes: Heracles?

Dionysus: No buddy, Ares. Ares is the guy who's dick is better than mine I mean come on a guy who shags the goddess of love more times than any living thing HAS to have something going on down there

Some Roman Karen: EXCUSE me is pronounced Venus! We don't use greek words here.

Dionysus: Please leave me alone lady.

Some Roman Karen: *rhees in anger*

Dionysus and Hermes: *both are struggling to ignore her*

Ares: ....ok...that dick of your isn't that great.....*rips off his loin cloth* .....THIS....is a dick.

Crowd: *the women and gay men swoons over the perfect of Ares's bare body, men quake and cringe at their own feeble members and put to shame*

Caesar: *completely unimpressed and decided to leave* hmf. Pathetic.

Maximus: *wriggles in shame* HOW c-C-C-could this be?! The most PERFECT COCK? Oh my gods why is it fucking glowing?!

Ares: ....what you don't shave yourself weekly? I mean come on man that's how you keep the ladies coming back?

Maximus: *starts crying a little*

Dionysus: *cackling uncontrollably* SO THATS HIS SECRET! *writes on a piece of paper saying "shave, dick, weekly"*

Hermes: *still not fully understanding why all of this* ........you brought Ares here JUST to emasculate some gladiator?

Dionysus: Oh much more than that Herms.....much much m-

Roman Karen: EXCUSE YOU SIR ITS MERCURY!

Dionysus: *has had enough and turned her into a chicken* there much better.

Hermes: .....are you ok? Did you have your wine today?

Dionysus: I RAN OUT OF WINE LONG AGO!

Hermes: *deep sigh* not again.

Ares: *now in full naked display* ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!? *The crowd roared and cheered*

Dionysus: well....yah want to set the animals free from their cages?

Hermes: fuk ye-*feels a tough and strong hand practically crushing his shoulder* .....*turns to see an old man who clearly was Zeus* .....

Zeus: .....boys.....

Dionysus and Hermes: .....Uh Oh.

Zeus: *took each of them by their ears like a discontented mother* you're BOTH grounded for bothering these mortals and above all abusing the dark, unholy power of the sacred male member ....if I had a third arm it would be reserved for Ares. *Looks down at Ares now just doing some naked dance for the crowd*........*deep and disappointed sigh*

Dionysus: but dad, I do that like everyday.

Zeus: I don't care if I don't discipline you or Hermes right the now, Hera will have MY male member nailed to the wall.

(Later that day)

Mortus: *inner noir detective monologue* after several months, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The suspects disappeared from the face of the empire. Likely their crimes have caught up with them. My only consolation to solving this case....is the mysterious birth of my son and my faithful wife. .... speaking of which...why does Caius have blue eyes? Me and Octavia have brown.....did ...she?....nah that's impossible.

The Centurion from earlier: MY LORD! I FOUND THE SUSPECTS!

Mortus: *dramatically turns around* This better be the right ones this time.

*much later after apparently an orgy broke out at the coliseum*

Mortus: .... Absolutely disgusting. Practicing Sexual Festivities without a license is punishable by crucifixion, Mark.

The Announcer (Mark): B-b-but sir! It wasn't my fault! Some slave was to challenge Maximus and they just decided to remove their clothing and everyone went wild! ....to be fair the slave did look a little attractive BUT the fornicating ceased once the slave disappeared.

Mortus:....was he accompanied by a portly, dark haired ..... individual?......an extremely attractive blonde slave and a thinner more athletic young man with brown hair?

The Announcer: ...hmm...well yes minus the other slave.

Mortus: Hmmm.....the plot thickens.....are these the mysterious criminals that destroyed the coliseum last year?....What is the motivated behind these depraved individuals?.....

The Announcer: ugh...why are you talking to yourself?

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Had To Get Creative

Summary- 1.6k Bucky x Y/N. with appearances of Steve, Sam, Nat, and Clint. Its Natashas birthday and you lost the balloons. Time to improvise much to Buckys dismay. No warnings, Fluff. Hints of smut kinda mentioned. Written for @kitkatd7​ 250 Writing Challenge, Congrats babes on your milestone! Prompt is in bold italiacs. Thank you @nsfwsebbie​ for basically supplying the idea for this. 

“NO! NONONONO!” You cry out as all the fucking balloons shot out of your car and you leapt to catch the string tying them all together, but a breeze just happened to flutter it out of your grasp, and there they go. Bright beautiful colors of purples, greens, blues, reds... gone. All gone. Up to the heavens. Or over to the next freaking state. 

In your arms your trying to juggle a cake and a bag or decorations for the compound. It was Nats birthday, and you taken it upon yourself to decorate the common room for a surprise party. And now you had no god damn balloons. Just about defeated with it, since there was no time to order more, get them blown up, drive all the way back into town before the party was due to start. Going up to the main doors, Friday scanned you and allowed you entrance, making your way to the elevator and upper floors, pondering your dilemma. 

Once the elevators bell chimed and you stepped off, a somewhat ridiculous thought began to tickle in your mind. Bucky joking last night showed you a youtube video of people blowing up condoms to see how big they could get. At the time, it was good for a laugh, you teasing that he still needed the xl. Needless to say, it boosted Buckys ego and benefited you. 

BUT there was still a mostly full box in the nightstand, and although not decorative, you could still blow them up, put them around the common room. In fact, you had your paint kit still set up in the living room. Sliding the cake into the common rooms fridge and ditching the bag on the counter, you rushed up the the avengers apartments, and let yourself into Buckys. You only had a couple hours to pull this off, but if you could... it was going to be awesome. 

Bucky finished training with Steve and Sam, all three of them heading to there respective floor to shower and change. Sam dug out his phone and took a look at the time. “Y/N will have our ass if were not in the common room soon to help her set up for Nat.” 

Steve leaned over to glance at the time over Sams shoulder himself and nodded. “I will stop over to help you guys bring stuff down in about half an hour Buck. I know shes been planning hard for this.” 

About a week ago you told the guys you were recruiting all of them. Bucky, Steve and Sam were gonna help you set up, Clint had the mission of keeping Nat occupied,Tony well he occupied the space, everyone else just had to show up by 6 pm. “Yea, shes been pretty excited about getting this ready for Natasha. She will have all our asses if we dont show up.” 

Sam sniggered a bit as the door opens “Yea Barnes your ass be sleeping on the couch a good month or two.” Bucky flipped him off as he walked into his own apartment and shut the door. 

“Y/N? Im just gonna jump in the show-” He walked into the living room to see you surrounded by clear oddly shaped balloons, that you were oh so delicately painting. You heavily concentrating, the tip of your tongue peeking out and your head is bent over the balloon, Bucky picks up a dry one and flips it around to see youve painted flowers and Natshas symbol all over them. “How come your painting the balloons? And why are they all... weird looking.” Buckys studing them closer, flipping to the opposite end of where its tied off to see it had what looked like a little nipple on it. 

“Dont you dare pop them Barnes, or your ass is grass” You mutter without looking up, setting the one you just finished aside and grabbing another. Thats when Bucky sees the box next to you with all the empty wrappers. “The ones I bought, they escaped out the car door and blew away. This is an emergency.” 

ALL OF THEM. 

Thats when he took a closer look at the “balloons” and he groaned, covering his face with his hand. 

“Are those the box of condoms I just bought for us?” 

Your dabbing your paintbrush in the black paint for a black widow spider. “do you wanna know the truth Buck, or do you want me to lie and say no?” 

“Was it the entire box?”

You balk and had the good sense to look a bit sorry, glancing around the room at the scattering of condoms all blown up out of shape and painted bright lovely colors. “Errrrr, I really thought you might have another one, stashed somewhere for emergencies?” 

“Why would I? Never mind.” He waved his hand and grumbled under his breath. “I thought you loved me.” he teased.

Hopping up and wading through the condoms, you grasp Bucky Barnes face and give him the hottest kiss you could, making him grasp your hips in surprise and his brows arch, pulling you in closer. Your paint covered hands smeared colors around his neck as you wrapped your arms there. “Course I do handsome, and thank you for your contribution to tonight's activities. I bet I can find us a few to make up for using your brand new box.” You smirk at him and wiggle brows. 

“Oh, to the street corner store?” 

You snort and roll your eyes. “Hell no, Im thinking in building. Over sized Pigeon must have some at his place. You occupy Sam, and I will put my secret stealth skills to work. Now you... shower.” 

Pushing him to go, hes laughing the whole time hes headed into the bathroom, you start to clean up your brushes and once he returns, Steve is knocking on the door, and helps himself in when you call out for him to just let himself in. “Hey Rogers, I need you guys to bring these down and tie them around the room.” Your back in your on the floor cross legged position, tying ribbon on the ends so they would be hung around the room. “And scatter some on the counters, table, etc.” You direct the two of them, Sam then arriving in the room. 

“Did you not order some?” Steve asked as he bent down, collecting the strings to bring them to the common room. 

“I uhh, wanted to paint them and thought these would just look better. Listen Rogers, I pay you just to look pretty, okay. Dont question my crazy, okay buddy.” 

Bucky is snorting in laughter as he grabs a fistful, and you tie up the last couple and hand them off to Sam. Steve is sighing at you. “Just a question Y/N, damn woman... I wont question your ‘crazy’ anymore.” 

“Good, ask Buck, it never pays off anyways. I will be down in a few minutes. I just gotta clean up a bit.” Without another word, they left, and you, well you had to get dressed and see how well Sam locked up his apartment. 

The party, Natasha was surprised to say the least, which you took great pride in being able to fool the spy. Everyone had a great time, with way to much food and alcohol to be able to move once you crashed into Buckys lap on the couch, your fingers carding through his now shorter hair and nuzzling his ear. “Did you have fun?” You ask him, and his hand rests just under under the hem of your dress, his thumb sweeping back and forth gently. 

“I did baby, better yet I think Natasha did to” Directing his gaze where Nat was half laying upside down on the couch, bouncing one of the balloons and giggling, from way to much vodka. Clint was next to her, bouncing his own condom balloon when it suddenly popped and shot across the room from the elasticity to fall at Steves feet. 

He picked it up, and thats when realization hit him what the balloons were made out of, his eye brows shooting up in surprise, Sam came up beside him and plucked it out of his hand, bursting out laughing. 

“I cant believe it, they are god damn condoms, I knew it! They werent no regular balloons.” Hes waving the phallic shaped rubber like its a prize, and you bite your lip to keep quiet, your face going a bit red. Bucky is shaking underneath you though with actual laughter, and Nat, well she flips herself right side up and pops another one, stretching it out once its deflated and snorts. “well hell if you can use them now. They lost all there stretchy stretch stretch.” she giggles at herself.

“well no, they wouldnt be safe to use after I blew them up and out of shape.” You shrug, while Clint now takes the other end that Nat was messing with and stretches them further to see just how far it would go before shooting it across the room into the vodka punch. 

“Guess Barnes aint getting lucky tonight” Sam remarks when he crashes down on the other side of the couch, and heres where your grinning to yourself. 

“Well actually Wilson...” you move to a stand and take Buckys hand to have him stand up to, you dig in your dress pockets (cause your cool like that) and pull out what looks to be a brand new box, waving it. “You were able to fix that problem for us to.” 

“What the hell, did you break into my apartment for those?!” Sam barks out with a touch of disbelief, and now its Steves turn to laugh so hard hes crying. 

“Thanks for that man!” Barnes salutes Sam and you grab his hand, tugging him along with you back to the elevator. Sam still a bit slack jaw in surprise, Steve holding his side laughing and Natasha is giving you the thumbs up while the door is closing. 

“At least someone is getting lucky on my birthday. Alright Clint, lets line up those shots again. Birthday toast to getting lucky!” 

@jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @official-and-unstable-satan @p8tn0lish @stardancerluv @that-damn-girl​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @imanuglywombat​

[askullinajar]

Fifty Shades Dicked

The time has come for the third instalment of Fifty Shades of Ectoplasm

This is entirely the fault of the heathens over on the discord, namely @ironsilversaltandtea for posting the photo that led to it all, @achillesangst for making some interesting art of it, and @stormwalkers and @wolfjawswriter for just general shenanigans and egging on.

Warning: Any accuracies, historically, scientifically, or to canon, are completely accidental. This is pure crack. No actual hanky-panky - as I am but a totally innocent asexual - but a whole lot of inappropriate jokes. You have been warned.

Fic info: Post teg. Rating: Mature, clearly. Pairings: Implied locklyle. Word count: 1626

Summary: The gang stumble across a certain something previously owned by Mr and Mrs Lockwood. Shenanigans ensue.

It was a mild spring morning the day we managed to scar Lockwood for life.

The company was going through a lull in cases - something about warmer weather and extended daylight made ghosts not want to show themselves - and we were using that time to do a spot of spring cleaning. The fact that Holly had threatened to quit if she found another of George’s rotting ‘experiments’ stuffed in a random cupboard had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Holly was out with her flatmate on what she insisted was ‘definitely not a date, stop being nosy’ and had appointed Quill to keep an eye on us. His only purpose seemed to be nabbing whatever alcohol we found buried in cupboards from the days when Lockwood’s parents were still around and lounging in a chair complaining about this and that. I wasn’t really paying attention, to be honest; I was too busy trying to get Skully to stop dripping ectoplasm all over the newly-cleaned surfaces as he hovered above us making increasingly rude comments. 

“You could help you know!” I snapped at him, interrupting Quill’s ranting about the extortionate prices of laundry detergent.

“Moi?” said Skully, swooning dramatically in midair. “I am but a simple street urchin, I know nothing about this so-called ‘cleaning’ thing.” He waved a hand and sent half the kitchen appliances skidding across the counter and crashing to the floor. “Whoopsie!” he said, though his sadistic grin was far from apologetic. 

I picked up the salt shaker and threw it at him. It passed right through, of course, and collided with the wall, but a few grains of salt came loose and hissed as they came into contact with his ectoplasm. 

“Ow!”

I ignored his complaints and went to put the appliances back with Lockwood and George’s help. When the boys hefted up the microwave, I noticed the floorboard beneath it had come loose. I knelt by it and dug my fingers in to prise it up.

“There’s a box under here,” I informed them, brushing dust away from the wilted cardboard.

George kneeled next to me and adjusted his glasses to peer at it. “Interesting. Reckon it contains anything of paranormal significance?”

“Or anything valuable?” said Quill, kneeling on my other side.

“It’s probably just stuff my parents hid when authorities came to call,” shrugged Lockwood, turning away with his bright pink feather duster to clean the higher shelves. “They weren’t exactly supposed to bring possible Sources into the country.”

Whatever it was, investigating it seemed more fun than cleaning, so I prised up the floorboards either side of the gap and wiggled the box free. 

The box was filled to the brim with packing foam, but when I dug it out and managed a first glimpse at what it was hiding, I nearly choked.

“What is it?” said Lockwood, whirling back around at the noise. “Are you alright, Lucy?”

My face pulled taut in a gallant effort not to laugh, I dug my hands into the box and pulled out its contents: a finely crafted china teapot, in the shape of a dick and balls.

Immediately, my hearing filled with spectral laughter as Skully burst into loud cackling above me, gripping his stomach and gasping for nonexistent breath. Quill and George weren’t far from joining in.

“Oh my god,” Quill gasped, wheezing as tears of mirth filled his eyes. “Tony, what exactly were your parents into?”

Lockwood’s face had gone a brilliant shade of red as he stammered for words. “It- It can’t be theirs- they- it must have belonged to the last people who owned the house…”

George took the teapot off me, which I was very grateful for as I was dangerously close to dropping it with my hands shaking from laughter. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt, placed them back on his head, then took the lid of the phallic pot and peered inside.

“Oh,” he said, the laughter immediately wiped from his face. “Oh, this definitely belonged to your parents, Lockwood.”

“What?” said Lockwood, eying the teapot from a distance as though weary it would blow up any minute. “What is it?”

George silently handed the teapot over to Quill before standing, going over to the sink, and dunking his head in the basin of what was now very cold water. 

Quill reached into the teapot and pulled out a stack of old photographs. I leaned over his shoulder curiously as he flicked through them and immediately started choking for real. I recognised Celia and Donald Lockwood from the few photos Lockwood had scattered around the house. I was not prepared for the positions they were in.

“What is it?” Lockwood insisted. “What’s on them?” He moved to reach for them but Quill jerked them out of his reach. Unfortunately, this put them right into Skully’s line of sight and the ghost started cackling even harder than before.

“Holy shit, those are some saucy parents he has. Come on, Luce, show the boy how he was probably conceived!”

“Nope!” I blurted, snatching the photos from Quill’s hand and lurching to my feet to make a beeline for the living room and - more importantly - the fireplace. “Lockwood, trust me, you do not want to see these.”

“If they’re photos of my parents, I want to see!” cried Lockwood, chasing after me.

It was then that the umbrella stand in the hallway fell into my path - entirely on its own, Skully would insist later - and my feet collided with it causing me to crash down to the floor, my grip coming loose from the photo stack and resulting in a whirlwind of erotic snapshots to fall down around me.

“Oh no.” Lockwood’s voice seemed very cracked and distant, and when I pushed myself up and turned to him, the poor boy had his hands clamped tight over his eyes, his face and ears tomato red. “George, please tear out my eyes!”

“Only if you tear out mine too,” George said, coming into the hallway with his hair dripping wet. “God, this is almost as bad as when I walked in on my mum-”

“Do not finish that sentence!”

“At least you don’t have to look your parents in the eyes after this,” George muttered, folding his arms over his chest. “Took me three months to get over that.”

“I’m going to have nightmares,” moaned Lockwood. “Lucy, please tell me you’ve picked them all up by now.”

Quill and I were systematically gathering them up and tossing them in the fireplace. Only when Quill had lit the fire did we give Lockwood the all-clear.

“I am never cleaning the house again!” Lockwood declared, collapsing against me with his face buried into my shoulder. I patted his back sympathetically.

“At least we got a new teapot out of it,” said George. “Tea, anyone?”

“There is no way I am drinking tea out of that thing,” said Lockwood. “Can we please get rid of it?”

“Or...” I said, spying the blackened skull perched on a shelf in the kitchen. “I have another idea.”

*

Holly returned to find us all - minus George, who was making sure there were no loose photos lying around - sheepishly sitting around the kitchen table sipping tea. The kitchen was clean, at least, but Holly didn’t even seem to notice, her eyes going straight to the teapot on the table.

“What. On earth. Is that?”

“Our new teapot,” I said matter-of-factly. “Like it?”

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” said Holly, her nose wrinkling. “I have never understood the appeal of these things.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” said Quill, sipping his tea casually.

“I’m throwing it out,” said Holly, picking it up with the tips of her fingers like it was contaminated, which it probably was.

It was then that Skully decided to make his presence known by forming directly out of the ‘spout’, his ectoplasm contorted grotesquely into the happy farmhand.

Holly, to no one’s surprise, shrieked and hurled the teapot all the way down the hall where a loud thump and yelp ensued.

“Oh my gosh, George, I’m so sorry!” Holly cried, rushing down the hall with the rest of us at her heels to find George curled up on the floor, the shattered remains of the teapot as well as the skull surrounding him. “Are you alright?!”

George groaned and pushed himself upright to reveal his glasses askew and a bright red mark on his face in the perfect silhouette of a dick and balls. I tried to stop myself laughing and only half managed.

“I think I have a concussion,” George slurred.

“Hospital,” said Holly, helping George up and bustling him to the door. “Hospital, now.”

*

The nurse looked from the penis permanently etched onto George’s face, to the haunted look in Lockwood’s eyes, to me and Quill who were still snickering, before finally turning to Holly who she seemed to deem as the most sensible one of the group. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Perhaps she remembered us from the time George got a condom stuck over his head and nearly suffocated.

“How?”

“Dick teapot,” I blurted, trying not to look at Goerge’s face because if I did I would most certainly die of laughter. Unfortunately, this made me picture it again and I snorted anyway.

The nurse heaved a great sigh as if this was just the same old bullshit she had to deal with every day.

“Just once,” she said, “why can’t it just be ghost-touch.”

George rubbed at the imprint on his face, then seemed to realise it looked like he was wanking the dick off and stopped. “You know,” he said, ignoring me and Quill wheezing next to him, “I’m actually with you on that one, ma’am.”

[dirtymonsterconfessions]

Dream Submission: The time I dreamed I was the Ink Demon’s loyal servant and boy toy

Here’s the story inspired by a Real Good Dream I had about Ink Bendy .. he doesn’t do a lot with his ink in it, but I can work with that 👀 it’s fairly canon-divergent because confident, kinda thicc (at least relative to the canon) Ink Bendy is a Good Concept and I was blessed (?? does that work for a devil) with it in the dream. I had this dream/wrote the first draft of this around when chapter 3 was released, because I’ve been thirsty for a long time. It starts kinda slow, but it was between 3-4 pages in google docs so hopefully it balances out. I hope this is both sufficiently sexy and fun to read!

  —

  When I decided to check out the old abandoned animation studio, I never expected it to turn out the way it did. Angels, Demons, and ink everywhere I turned. I knew I should leave, but a force in the studio brought me in. Brought me deeper.

  I came to a crossroads. Two doorways opened in front of me, leading to two separate halls that ultimately funneled me to the same room. A sign divided the path further. The arrow pointing right beckoned “ANGEL,” and the arrow pointing left warned “DEVIL.” I took my steps, and let the left sign pull me in.

  I waded through a hall flooded with ink, and when I made it to the main room, it went dark. It wasn’t regular darkness; shadows danced across the walls, coating them like a film. I heard breathing coming closer, and a steady heartbeat. It calmed me, yet it also filled me with an excitement I couldn’t initially recognize. I turned to meet the source.

  In the doorway stood a tall, almost regal figure of ink. He had two cloven hooves at the end of each of his strong legs. A gloved hand rested at his side, and he used a free, clawed hand to straighten the crooked bow tie on his chest. His horns were tall and uneven, and ink dripped down most of his face. I saw his wide smile tilt into a smirk. 

  “Hiyaa,” he called, waving with his bare hand. He tried to sound chipper, the way he did in his cartoons, but his tone was lower, and an echo distorted his voice further. He continued, “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  I stared at him as he stepped closer to me. His heartbeat wrapped itself around me, holding me down. It was a welcomed feeling. I blinked slowly, and my eyes fell as I watched him walk. Staring at his hips, I realized the feeling I felt was not fear.

  “You know that I’m the devil.” He purred, lifting my chin up with a pointy fingertip. I looked into the ink of his face embarrassed, knowing he noticed my staring. “I’d like to know you.”

  I told him my name.

  “Fitting for a fella as handsome as you.” He grinned, leaning down and moving his face closer to mine. I stood still, feeling my body temperature rise. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he cooed.

  “I have some things I need done.” He whispered like a command into my ear. “Would you come help me out?”

  I nodded, ready to drop to my knees.

  “Great! Thank you!” He beamed, taking my hand in his. He was careful to not nick me with his nails. He held his gloved hand to the wall, and a portal appeared before us. He walked me through.

  The room we arrived in was small, and held only his throne. It was a shifting, angular monument of ink. He let go of my hand and threw himself upon it, kicking his legs up and reclining on its shoulders. 

  “A few odd jobs need to be done around the studio before we can discuss anything else,” he grinned, leaning on his elbow. 

  I listened, and did as he needed.

  First, he wanted me to take some gears out of some compartments. He also gave me a few items to hide.

  Then, he wanted me to reset the levels of these inky meters. He also wanted me to bring him back a battery he called a “power core.” He wanted it still warm. The phallic shape of it made my face grow warm once more when I thought about him.

  For his final task, he gave me thumbtacks to lay out in front of his cardboard cutouts. So “that damn angel will get what’s coming to her when she tries to break them again.”

  Whenever I finished a job for him, he came to me and brought me back to his throne room. The first time, he held me by the shoulder. The second, his hand wrapped around my waist. The third, it rested on my hip.

  “That was about everything I needed done in the studio,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He shook his head slightly, then pointed to the wall. Where he pointed, another inky portal appeared. “If you want to leave, that’ll lead you back to the outside world.”

  “...Or,” he continued, sitting up straight in his throne. I saw his legs open slightly. “You can stay, if you want to pleasure me.”

  I cast a quick, dismissive glance at the portal, then walked to his throne. I fell to my knees at his hooves and kissed his legs up to his thighs. He chuckled his approval, and ran his clawed fingers gently through my hair. 

  I put my hands on his knees, and looked up at him for further approval. He smiled and nodded, edging closer to me. I opened his legs, and saw that the ink between them looked melted from the anticipation. 

  Rubbing his thighs gently, I put my tongue to his ink. He tasted savory. He squirmed against my tongue, and breathed out a quiet moan. I licked gently at first, teasing him. His breathing got heavier, and I heard him whine whenever I pushed against him.

  I pushed my tongue into him and dragged it vertically, and he let out a deep moan. He leaned back, opening his legs so that each ankle rested on the shoulders of his throne. I moved my hands under him and squeezed him gently from behind, continuing to lick his front up and down. He held his hand against the back of my head, and I felt his hips gently swaying and thrusting.

  “Geez,” he called out in between his pants, trying to catch his breath. I began to move my tongue back, then pushed it into him again. He yelped, throwing his head back. I did it again and again. As he gasped out in “ahhhs,” I felt a burst of ink against my mouth.

  “Please don’t stop, keep going, please,” he begged, letting go of my head. I took a minute and swallowed his ink. It felt thicker, and tasted stronger, than the rest of his body. I rubbed my tongue against him again, ready to make him cum as many times as he wanted. 

  We went 3 more times. When we were done, he fell back in his throne, purring. I looked up at him, ink dripping from my mouth and breathing heavy. He held his hand out to me, and pulled me up into his throne with him when I took it. He held me close, and I wrapped my arms around him tight. 

  “That was amazing.” He sighed, leaving a kiss on my head. He had yet to catch his breath fully.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I smiled. “I love you.” I rested my head against his shoulder. Usually I would’ve told someone before.

  “I love you too.” He whispered into my ear as my eyes closed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

hOO BOY that was some good stuff. Thank you for submitting this!

- Mod Naga

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter Eight

“There will be some changes to your schedule. And you will be assigned a food taster, in case of poison. A full security detail will have to accompany you should you need to visit a public level, for whatever reason.”

You feel like barfing again as Elias recites a rather long, very detailed list about how your seriously your safety is going to be taken. Still, though, you sit on the provided chair, arms on the prince’s desk, as the assistant continues. Everything seems... too dark, suddenly, a dull, throbbing pain beginning to pinch on the inside of your skull. You know that breathing a word of complaint might put you on that psychopath’s medical table again, so you bear it, silently, looking over the provided datapad with feigned interest.

“Is this to your satisfaction, your highness?”

You realize that Elias is speaking to you, not the prince, so you swallow and offer up a nod. “Yeah, it looks good to me.”

He then turns to the prince, offering the same treatment. “Does this satisfy you, your grace?”

“I will look over it in more detail later,” the prince says calmly, “and you will reevaluate some of the steps.”

“Of course, sire.” Elias, at least, looks mildly relieved that he’s not about to end up on the platter in the dining area, “I will inform the head of security.”

“You are dismissed.” The prince looks back at you as his assistant leaves, arms crossed.

You don’t really know where to go from there, so you decide to take it a couple of steps at a time. All your things are being scanned for any remedial poisons and toxins, so the guns you brought are about to be found. Fun stuff. Oh, and some other… more scandalous things, you know, the stuff that you’ve been using in the absence of a partner. That’s going to be super fun to explain. You’re not quite sure which one is going to be more embarrassing to deal with, the laser technology or the vibrators. It’s a close call. And this is a new sensation, too, because you’ve never been super shy about either of those. In the very small amount of instances where either someone went through your stuff, or you had to send your bag through a security scan, you shrugged off the phallic shapes and dared someone to say something about it.

“Cool,” you say, mostly to yourself, “cool, cool, cool, cool.”

“I understand that this isn’t ideal,” the prince says, “and for that, I apologize.”

“Not your fault,” you say, trying to be understanding but allowing the full implications of this situation set in, “but thanks.”

“Is there anything I can have fetched for you?” The prince squeezes his hands together, his knuckles going a shade paler from his grip. “Books? Projects?”

“I want to take a nap.” The headache is spreading now, and all you would like to do is lay down and forget about existing for a little while.

“Of course, is there anything you’d like to sleep in, or are you fine now?”

“Blankets would be nice,” You say, already partly onto the bed. There aren’t any for you to wrap yourself up in, and you’d like to make yourself into a burrito to sleep.

True to his word, the prince orders some blankets up, and you have your pick of all the different materials the royal laundry has to offer. Large, thin, thick, fluffy, light, heavy. You grab the one that will provide the most comfort and roll yourself up, laying your head down on a pillow and closing your eyes. The sleep, at least, is like a sweet relief against the day’s worries, like a blissful blackout. When you wake, everything pitch dark, you have to blink to realize your eyes aren’t still closed. You also don’t sense an enormous, foreboding weight on the other side of the mattress, either, so you’re alone.

Hesitantly, you step out of the bed, feeling the ground for obstacles, and try to find your way out. Unfortunately, your shin crashes into something rather hard, so a string of curse words are out of your mouth before you can even stop the urge. When you take a second to breathe, you hear the skittering of pointed legs against the stone floor, and the lights turn on to a dim setting, the prince peeking his head through the door.

“You’re up,” he notices.

“What time is it? Already night?” You’re nowhere near the door and had been aiming for it in a slightly adjacent trajectory. Even if you hadn’t run into some sort of decorative statue, you would have then planted face-first into the wall only a moment later.

“It’s morning,” the prince says, “you slept through the rest of the day and through the night.”

“Incredible.” You say, somehow feeling thoroughly exhausted.

“I could turn the lights back off and let you go back to sleep? Oh, and there’s a lantern sensor on the table on your side of the bed, just touch the pad if you need to see.”

“I’m good, I probably need to face the day anyway.” You yawn, scratching your arm.

“Well,” his expression turns a tad hesitant, “your things are here, fully inspected by my security staff.”

That wakes you up as efficiently as getting a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. “Cool, that’s great. I’ll put on some clothes that actually fit me, then.”

“There’s also the matter of…” his voice trails off before he tries starting the sentence again. “Some of your things are considered contraband here.”

“I know.” Emit an aura of confidence. “But you know how I like having my safety in my own hands, so the guns stay.”

“That is acceptable, though you are aware that the outer shell of a drider is tough enough to take two or even three shots from your strongest rifle and still be able to fight?”

“Yeah?” You aren’t stupid. “The guns were there before you offered to teach me the fancy knife work.”

“I see.” He hesitates again, and you can see precisely what he wants to ask, but you let him flounder around because you hope that he will just choose not to bring it up. Oh, but no such luck, because he cocks his head and adds, “there is also something else found that I am, well, curious about.”

“Hm?” You ask, arching your eyebrows, hands on your hips.

“Several intriguingly shaped objects that seem to serve no function but to… well…”

A part of you enjoys watching him squirm, despite your own embarrassment. “Oh, did you not get the memo that humans tend to be creatures of sexual nature?”

“I…” he suddenly looks like he regrets bringing the subject up, “-did, but I suppose that I hadn’t realized that it was so... ferocious.”

“Well,” you stand on the tips of your toes to pat him on the shoulder, “I’ll spare you the more lewd details, doesn’t look like you can stomach it at the moment. Where did you say my stuff was?”

“Set against the front door.”

“Neat, thanks.”

It’s clear as day when you open your bags that they’ve been rifled through with great liberty. Still, after going through everything twice, you’re satisfied that all your stuff is still there, so you spin around and let out a muted sigh. “Any place I can put these?”

“My closet would be acceptable,” the prince says, working on something at his desk. His face seems… darker? More saturated? You wonder… could he be flushed? Is this what a flustered drider looks like?

You try not to laugh too loudly as you go to put your things away, organizing what you have among the prince’s clothes and accessories. Now that you have a moment, you figure you can go through his clothing just as a sort of preliminary investigation of what the prince (or the person who dresses him, at least) thinks is fashionable. Lots and lots of fluttery, light fabrics, robes, and tunics made to be seen by the careful eyes of a predator. You run your fingers over silky and scratchy threads, marveling at the textures, pulling some of the drapery out, so see how it falls back in place.

There aren’t really any sort of shoes, but there are a vast amount of accessories. Jewelry, for one, though you’ve never seen the prince wear anything more than rings and claws, but there are nose rings, earrings, necklaces, crowns, you name it, he has it, in black, silver, and even white. Now there’s a color you didn’t think you would see since you left the Starward Matchmaker™ ship. An older instinct inside of you wants to reach out and snatch at the metal and gemstones, and it’s something you have to actively fight against because you’re fingers always want to grab first, ask questions later.

Calmly, you turn around to gather up clothes to get into. By the time you’re changed, there’s already food sitting on the table for you to eat, so you hop right onto the human-sized chair across from the prince, who is already settled in his place. Oh, the spread is downright beautiful, a collection of foods both familiar and not, you’re so stupidly hungry that you go through a whole helping before you even taste anything. No one tells you that on top of being tired all the time from the extra gravity, you also end up being fucking famished because you’re exerting yourself more than usual. Your poor body’s burning calories up the wazoo as it struggles to adjust.

“About the doctor’s appointments,” the prince says, poking at his own food, “there aren’t many doctors with as much intimate knowledge on human anatomy as Doctor Nisesh.”

You look at him, but don’t say anything back.

“There is, however, a drow medical professional willing to become your doctor, if that suits you?”

You offer a nod.

He lets out a breath, as though he was expecting more of an argument, for whatever reason. “Well, I will send word. I’d like for you to have a preliminary exam as soon as possible, today, even, unless you have other plans?”

“Oh, hold on, let me look at my schedule.” You pull out your datapad’s calendar, which is decidedly empty. “Nope, looks like I can squeeze it in.”

“Excellent.” He seems pleased, at least, and you aren’t sure if its because you aren’t putting up a fight or he found your joke amusing. “I hope you will forgive me, but I will be in meetings for most of the day, there are some things I have been putting aside in lieu of, well, your arrival. Elias and another guard will escort you to and from my family’s private clinic.”

“Ooo, a whole clinic just for you and your family? I’m always so used to having to share those medical offices with everyone else in the area who needed them! I feel so darn special already.” Internally, you berate yourself for being just a wee bit too sarcastic, but he doesn’t seem at all bothered by your classy snark. Still, you try to dial it back significantly, even though you feel ridiculously cranky.

True to the prince’s word, Elias shows up a little bit later, his black uniform crisp and sharp in the dim light, shadowed by some kind of similarly uniformed drow, gun strapped to their hip. You’re already dressed, so you shove your datapad in your back pocket, say goodbye to the prince, and follow the assistant out into the halls. This floor’s decorations are significantly more rustic than the one above, like the prince’s room itself, with objects and statues you are sure probably date back a couple hundred or so generations. You’re very careful to keep your hands at your sides, afraid that you might accidentally move too weird and knock a millennia-old artifact onto the floor.

There are keys to the elevators, or, at least, for this level, which you suppose makes sense. It’s the same with stations and the like, the restricted areas kept under a keycode, but surely there has to be some sort of stairwell or tunnel that these people can use in the case of emergency. You would think, anyway. Lolth wasn’t always so technologically advanced, so they must like a tunnel system, maybe even air vents that go straight up to the surface dug when the atmosphere on this hellish planet was still breathable.

“Pardon me for asking, your grace, but your maid reported that you request that you speak to her in a plainer tone.” Elias breaks the ice, surprisingly. You thought that you might have to suffer the ride in stifling propriety.

“You can say ‘my bodyguard,’ it’s ok,” you say, unable to reel the retort in before it left your mouth. “And yes, I did. The constant respect got on my nerves, so I asked to be demoted to just ‘ma’am,’ if the titles are all that necessary.”

“I see,” Elias nods like he understands, “would you appreciate it if I did the same?”

It’s like a breath of fresh air, being spoken to like you’re on the same level, but you approach the offer with great trepidation. After all, this is the prince’spersonal assistant, the two of them might be colluding over the little bet you made. “I would, actually, if you don’t mind my, um, lack of formality. I know it bothers some of the staff.”

“My purpose here is to make you feel welcome, so if I must hold back a margin of bureaucratic language, then that is a sacrifice I’m sure the keias will understand.”

“Well, then, that sounds good to me, so long as you don’t get in trouble for it.”

An uncomfortable silence threatens to befall the elevator pod, but you’re saved by the doors opening. Elias exits first, and you get a decent view of the intricate, smooth braids his white hair is done up in. The twists are stiff, the kind that comes with an inordinate amount of product clinging to the strands, though the rest of his hair spill out like a frothing waterfall. The intricate hairstyles, especially from the staff, are just one of the ways everything is different from what you’re used to. With shorter hair comes efficiency, or, at least, the appearance of it, so most people you know have, at the very most, have shoulder-length cuts.

The guard stays behind you, as though watching for any attacks that might dare aim for your back. You aren’t one hundred percent positive, what with the assassination attempt and all, but you don’t really peg the driders as a people who would pull such a disgraceful maneuver, drows, though? You’re not so sure about them. Humanity is known for discriminating against their own on the basis of faked biology, so you aren’t exactly blown away and scandalized by the fact some other species does it as well, it’s just… well, eerie it to actually see it in action. Human slaves rebelled. You would think that the drow are doing the same, only everything nasty about the world is probably carefully shifted away from your view.

You’re on the same floor as the garden, so this must be where all the extra stuff besides living and eating quarters must be, a sort of recreational deck, you guess. Kind of like the space cruiser. The station is close by, and the ride to the clinic was rather peaceful. While you try asking Elias questions about himself, his life, the prince, and the prince’s family, he reacts… very dodgy, and the longest answers he gives are oh so very clearly scripted. You’re not stupid.

“You can just say that you’re not at liberty to talk about those things, it will be less obvious.”

Elias looks over at you again, his face tight with carefully restrained emotion. “I apologize. There are things that I would think would be better coming from the keias directly, rather than from me.”

“Alright.” You hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry for poking at you.”

The rest of the ride continues in silence. You’re almost relieved that you can stand and walk out of the station, a small one, much like the one from the palace, with no other people present. It must be some kind of private platform, which honestly makes sense. The clinic looks familiar, but given the fact you spent the last time you were here in a drugged up like a sick dog, you can’t really say that you’d be able to find your way around. Before you can even look over to Elias for a pointer on which sliding door to enter through, someone wearing a lab coat steps out.

“Ah! My human patient,” an elderly drow female, her hair silver, “welcome, welcome. I am Doctor Eidel, I was told I would be expecting you today.”

With all the cold, distant reactions from everyone else you’ve met, having such a legitimately warm greeting puts you at ease, despite the very real possibility of a fucking war criminal lurking in around in the brightly decorated halls. “Thank you, hi.”

“Well, I’ve got the file the Starward Matchmakers sent out, so why don’t we step aside in one of the rooms and begin? Would you be comfortable with your party remaining present or waiting just out in the hall?”

The fact you even get a choice fills you with more relief than you can possibly describe. Turning to Elias and the guard, you say, “sorry, I know we’ve been bonding, but I don’t think we’re on the level of you seeing me naked quite yet. Not even-” the prince has that privilege, yet, you don’t say, because that might be going just a tad bit far. “I mean, I’d just appreciate the privacy.”

Absolutely no fight from either of them, probably just as equally opposed to the idea, so you follow the doctor into a room. She hands you a loose hospital gown for you to change into, and leaves you alone. All very basic doctor stuff, with no threats of experimentation and disembowelment. Boy howdy are you glad to have changed medical professionals, huh. The checkup is just like any other you’ve undergone, the doctor quick to look over just the basic health things, then goes over anything else you might be ‘concerned’ with.

“Alright, we’ve got some basic painkillers for your headaches, though it’s not going to be a permanent solution.” Doctor Eidel writes something on her datapad with a white electric pen.

“Are there any... ‘permanent solutions’ in the making?” You can’t imagine having to deal with this forever… though the idea of even being on one planet for the rest of your life gives you a heavy bout of vertigo.

“I’m afraid it’s just a simple matter of biology.” She sets aside the clipboard. “If you were born here, perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a large issue. But since you grew up in a place with smaller gravity- a mining station, correct?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice slightly smaller.

“My suggestion would be that you are going to have to take breaks from the gravity as to not strain your body. Every couple of cycles, you will need to spend, at the very least, equal time back in an area with the same force of gravity as what you are used to. The keias has been trying to find some other fix that would keep you here, on this planet, but I’m afraid that the simplest solution is often the best.”

Again, that feeling of entrapment creeping into your bones. “I- I see, thank you so much for your honesty.”

Again, she picks up her datapad and electric pen, scribbling something else done. “Well, following on the note of honesty, the queen wants a genetic compatibility and fertility test done on you.”

“But- um, I thought the Starward Matchmakers™ do some sort of similar test?” A bolt of panic runs through your spine.

“They do a basic overview, which is as good as a guessing game. However, given the sudden paleness of your skin, I will just pretend that I haven’t seen the message until after you leave.”

Relief numbs your panic, and you let out a breath. “Thank you, yes, I don’t really want you digging around up there right now.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she takes her gloves off, “there’s only a certain amount of things you can avoid before she gets demanding. I’d suggest you talk to the keias so you can hide behind him.”

Well, given the earlier conversation involving dildos and the way he behaved, you aren’t sure he would be a whole lot of help in that regard, but you suppose you might have to give it a try. “Alright.”

“Well then, I’ll leave you to get dressed and order that medication. Don’t bother waiting, I’m sure there are a thousand security measures to get through before you so much as see a pill, so they’ll just be sent up to where you’re staying.” She taps her forehead with the back of her pen. “I’ll also give the prince a very mild suggestion that you get a couple of trips up into a neighboring moon resort in the near future, so your bones to catch a break.”

“Got it, thank you so much.” You mean it, too, this was probably the most candid conversation you’ve had since you got here. Once your clothes are back on, you leave as the doctor instructed, finding Elias and the security guard waiting out in the hall for you to emerge. You give neither of them any updates on your health, it’s not like it’s any of their business, anyway, so you’re rather silent as you get back in the car of the train and try to chill.

As you arrive back in the palace, stepping out of the car and into the courtyard area. Calmly, you look over at Elias as two other figures approach, large and terrifyingly quick, because you are still new to the whole drider royalty thing, and you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to handle this. Politely? Snarkily? Honestly, you’re in the mood for the latter, so you cross your arms in preparation for dealing with some ridiculous bullshit. You recognize one of them, the vice-marshal, he’s the one who gave you that shakedown when you first arrived. Little does he know that without the Starward Matchmaker™ representative to witness your transgressions, you suddenly feel an absolute lack of fear towards him.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, looking you over, “you seem to be taking the gravity well.”

“Yeah!” You change your voice to the perkiest, sweetest customer service tone you can muster. “Doc says I’m doing pretty well, how super is that?”

“Super,” he echoes, clearly disgusted by the word in itself. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, little lady, but my wife and I were rather worried when we heard about the security upgrades. A kidnapping attempt, perhaps? Or even worse, an assassination?”

Elias decides to step in, “a thousand apologies, vice-marshal,” damn, you’re getting some deja vu, you wonder how many times he has to say that every day, “but I’m afraid I must escort our lady back to the keias.”

” Of course,” the vice-marshal waves his hand in Elias’ general direction, “wouldn’t want Aksanoskeias getting all worried, now. He might wonder if his new fiance is dead, like the other one.”

[forlornmelody]

Through The Night

Rating: Mature (some sexy times, but it’s not the focus of the story. Proceed at your own comfort level.)

Ship: Shrios (Female Shepard x Thane Krios)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary:  Neither Thane Krios nor Jane Shepard want to spent their last night alone. But even the most tender of touches can't keep the ghosts at bay.

-*-*-

“And what do your gods think of this?” Jane Shepard says it with tongue in cheek, grinding up against his hips. 

Thane grins wickedly against her lips. Jane wonders if her next high will be as amazing as the first. She darts her tongue out only for Thane to pull back out of her reach in a sort of pout. “You do realize Arashu was originally a fertility goddess?”

“Wait. Does this mean you get to have sacred orgies? Cause I’m in.” She licks her own lips, running a hand down his chest. “For the fucking. Just the fucking.”

Other people would turn up their noses at her sacrilegious jokes, but Thane chuckles as he pulls her close again. His cheek rests against hers as he slips into memory. 

“We thought we were doing what the gods wanted--using all our power to drain Rakhana of every bit of life it had. We thought Arashu would reward us with more, and that Amonkira would continue to send us animals to hunt. But we were wrong. Many of the drell stayed behind on Rakhana, seeing our death as a punishment for our actions. Others saw them as our redemption. We believed rain was a heavenly gift, you see.”

It’s easy to get lost with Thane as she listens to his words and his breathing. “Kahje must have seemed like heaven.”

 “Oh, it did, for a time.” His next breath is jagged. “Until we realized heaven destroyed our lungs.”

“Is that why so few believe?”

Thane doesn’t really frown, not in a human way, but his face hardens, and his eyes focus on something beyond her. “Perhaps.”

Shepard was never much for religion. Sure, she’d listen to Ash back on the SRI talk about God like He was her old friend. Or Liara talk about Athame, or even the Siari philosophy. Or Garrus and his Spirits. Or Tali and her Ancestors. “Then why do you believe?” Chewing her lip, Shepard looks away. It’s probably rude to ask, but she can’t help her curiosity. 

His scaled hand cradles the back of her head as Thane looks into her eyes, or perhaps someone else's. “There are two things death cannot take away--memory, and belief.”

Shepard hasn’t been to church in a long time, not since she was living on the streets of Vancouver, but something about Thane’s breath on her skin feels like benediction--his hands on her body like prayer. She’s never considered herself very spiritual, but if there’s a heaven--Shepard imagines it feels like this. 

“Like martyrs, you mean?”

Thane rolls over her, gazing down at her like midnight and noon caught in an intimate embrace. “Like saints,” he murmurs, before claiming her mouth with his. 

------

“Are you sure about this, Siha?” Thane looks up at her, scrutinizing her face, reading every line. He told her once that reading behavior was the second most important skill in taking down a target. The first was remaining undetected. 

“Thane.” Shepard squeezes his hands. “If I die, I want to die having known you.” It’s mostly true. Or partly true. Jane Shepard can’t stand the thought of spending her last night alone. “Please.” Maybe the only truth coming out of her mouth is the desperation in her voice. 

“I need to be certain you want this. Before we do anything.” His inner eyelids close and reopen as he takes a breath. Thane’s chin ducks down slightly as he continues. “Mordin told you about Drell venom?”

Shepard nods. “Hallucinogenic. What about it?” She needs to be held, to hold in turn, to taste him and forget the world. If she gets high in the process then so be it. 

“Once you taste it...taste me, you’ll want nothing else.” It’s a warning, but it sends warm shivers down her spine, nonetheless. “I need you to say it. Before you taste me.” He squeezes her side, his fingers trailing up and down her skin despite himself. 

“I want you.” Shepard says without hesitation, resting her forehead against his. “Do you want me?”

“Yes, Siha. With every breath inside my lungs.” He kisses her, and her whole world narrows to him. 

His skin, normally so cool to the touch, flares with heat. Jane itches to feel every inch of it, tracing her fingers down the opening of his shirt, she pushes off his jacket so she can feel how the size of his scales change as they move past his shoulders. Thane’s mouth tastes like salt on watermelon. The stripes on his sides don’t make him more alien, they make him more Thane. She draws her lips across them, feeling his breath hitch. No belly button interrupts her journey to the top of his waistband, and Shepard pulls back to look up at him.

Thane cradles her chin with his thumb, and Jane closes her eyes, humming at how smooth it feels against her skin. The soft hands of an assassin--not the callused hands of a soldier. “What is it, Siha?”

“Just thinking how this isn’t the first time I’ve stared Death in the face.”

This man doesn’t really snort, maybe Drell never do, but he lets out a huff of air that must approximate one. “I’m not Death personified. I’m just its instrument.”

“Do not go telling me I’m unsheething your “sword.” Do not.” With that, Shepard yanks down his pants, and her breath catches in her throat. She isn’t sure what she was expecting--not that she really cared or minded. Thane could have had a mess of tentacles down there and Jane Shepard would still find a way to bring him past the brink. Honestly the shape isn’t that foreign--phallic and ahem, long, not too thick either. Shepard’s mouth dries as she imagines how it will feel with Thane inside her. The various shades of green--the patterns which she traces with her fingertip--are not ones she’d find on a human dick, but that’s not really what catches her attention. It’s the slight bumps on either side. 

“Like what you see?”

Shepard answers by taking him into her mouth.

-------

Thane doesn't kid around. Every nerve inside her veins floats, tingling as the world shifts in color. His fused fingers thrusting in and out of her arching body, leaves her a whimpering, boneless mess. The first time, when his mouth explores her vulva, she’s cognizant enough to say his name as her insides tighten and pulse. They’re not so lucky the second time. 

It sobers her to hear Kaidan’s name out loud, even when it just slipped from her lips. “Thane, I….”

Pressing a finger to her lips, Thane runs his other hand through her hair. “I don’t mind, Siha.” His sigh rumbles through her bones. Even now it’s hard to tell where she ends and he begins. “May I tell you something?” He says it so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him.

“What is it?”

“I was also thinking of someone else.”

“Irikah?”

Thane nods against her head, his frills brushing her ear. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re one sad mess of a couple.”

Shepard half expects him to laugh. Instead he pulls her closer. “I’m glad you’re here, Shepard.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too.”

-----

Sometime during the sleep cycle, Jane Shepard wakes to find Thane watching her.

“I’m being unfair to you.” The scales on Thane’s hand trail up and down Jane Shepard’s bare arm.

She rolls over, letting his breath stir the hairs that have fallen in front of her face. “What makes you say that?” Truth be told, he’s the only fair thing in her very unfair life. Maybe she’s the one being unfair to him. But letting go of him right now would be like letting go of her will to breathe. 

“You know I’m dying, but you give yourself to me anyway.”

“We’re all dying, Thane.” Shepard wills herself to say it, though the thought of perishing again in Cerberus hands fills her mouth with bile. “You signed on for a suicide mission, remember?”

“You have so little faith in your future.” “Is it because of you d--”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jane cuts him off, holding him tighter. 

“Siha--it’s okay to be afraid.”

“Thane, stop. I don’t”

“Shepard.” He tries to pull her back. She twists out of his grip. 

“I already told you.”

“Jane.” He says it so sharply that it makes her skin bleed. Jane Shepard freezes in his grasp, staring up at him. “I mean what I said.” The heel of his hand grazes the edge of her jaw, rough and smooth at the same time. “Fearing death will keep you, and everyone else alive.”

Her breath rattles within her chest, and she breathes in his scent. Maybe it’s her imagination, but he smells like a seashore. “How are you not afraid?”

Thane kisses her soothingly, then cradles her head against his chest. Shepard can hear the rasp as he breathes in and out. “I don’t believe death is the end. It’s only a rest after a long journey.”

“But how do you know you’re going to wake up in the ocean and swim to the shore?”

“Why are you asking me?” Thane looks down at her, frowning. You’re the expert on dying, Shepard. “Did you see anything?”

Shepard wants to lie to him--better to lie than break his heart, but she can’t. Shaking her head, she answers softly, “I wish I could believe like you do.”

“Then I shall have faith for both of us, Siha.” Thane kisses the top of her head. “And you’ll make sure we won’t need it.”

[ghostofviperwrites]

Forbidden

Pairing:  Evil/FC

Category:  NSFW

Word Count: 2500

Warnings:  Spanking, whipping, punishment, knife play, blood play

It was a simple enough order to follow.  Never go in the basement.  You clean the rest of the house and stay out of that room.   For months you had followed edict.   Twice a week you showed up to your client’s house and cleaned it top to bottom.  Except for that basement.  Every time you passed by that door your curiosity grew.   What was hidden behind that door that was so off limits?

You had never met the man who owned the house.   Simply sent here by your employer after he had contracted with them for housecleaning services.   There was only the one rule to follow, which should have been easy enough.  It had been.  For a while.  Then today you had stumbled upon the key to the door.   The strange key had stood out like a beacon on the kitchen counter.   Forgotten by its owner you could only assume. 

You carried the key around in your pocket while you cleaned.  It felt like it was burning you.  Keeping you constantly aware of it sitting there, taunting you.  While you cleaned you kept thinking about the basement.  What was down there that was off limits?  Why was the owner so protective?   Of course the forbidden element made you that much more curious.  

Finishing up your duties for the day you glanced at the clock on the stove.  You had finished up early, so you had time to kill.  Pulling the key from your pocket you looked at it and then the basement door.  You would admit to having tried the handle a time or two. It was always locked.  Now you had the key.   It wouldn’t hurt anything to take a quick peak you reasoned.   You weren’t going to touch anything.  Just a quick look.  Besides, it was practically your civic duty to check it out.  What if he was a murderer or something and had dead bodies stashed down there?  

Mind made up you walked slowly towards the door, your heart racing as you approached.   With a turn of the key you opened the door staring down into the vast darkness below.   Flicking on the switch you slowly moved down the stairs, hesitating as each step took you closer to the darkness.   When you finally reached the bottom you found another switch and turned it on.   It only offered a dim lighting, but it was enough to make you gasp in shock. 

You stumbled backwards as you saw furniture you thought only existed in porn.   You didn’t realize that people actually had these types of things in their homes.   Swings and cages and benches and tables littered the room that appeared to kept in pristine condition.   Your first instinct was to run up those stairs and forget everything you saw.  You knew the reason the basement was off limits now.   Your curiosity was sated.  Instead you creeped further into the room telling yourself you just wanted a quick look at what was in the cabinets.   Creeping over you opened the first cabinet, a little disappointed in the contents.  Nothing scandalous, it appeared full of various sanitizers and cleaning products.   Huffing a sigh you moved onto the next.  Shoulders sagging again in disappointment as it was full of boring things like lubrication and condoms.  However, you were surprised to learn there were so many different types of lubes and condoms.  And the bottom shelf was interesting housing different bandages and gauze.   It made you wonder just what the hell was going on down here that required bandaging.

The third cabinet had you breathing heavy as you looked in wonderment at the assortment of dildos and anal plugs that covered every inch of shelving inside it.  You couldn’t begin to imagine how some of those things would fit inside a human body.  Quickly shutting the door you moved to the next cabinet finding an array of vibrators and what looked like items for electric shocks.   The thought of playing with electricity both excited and frightened you, leading you to quickly slam the door shut. 

Moving on you hoped the next cabinet would hold the same titillating fare, being rewarded with a cabinet full of clamps.   Unable to resist the lure you pulled out pair after pair and closely examined them.  He had straight clamps, forceps clamps, magnetic clamps, pairs with painful looking teeth.  There were also a pair that appeared to have an electric attachment to send shocks through your nipples.  You bit your lip as you returned the most recent pair.  You would be lying if you said that your nipples weren’t tingling at the thought of having clamps on them. 

If you were amazed by the selection of clamps they had nothing on the large cabinet you opened next which housed gags and hoods.  You told yourself it wasn’t arousal dampening your panties as you reached for a ring gag, running your fingers over the smooth steel that would part someone’s lips, caressing the leather before putting it back on moving on down the line.  He seemed to be meticulously organized the rings growing in size to the last one in the row.  Staring at it you wondered how someone could even hold their mouth that wide.  You felt like your lips would split if forced to open that wide.  You blushed as you picked up a gag on the next row with a phallic shaped insert to go in the mouth, quickly dropping it back in place.   You were too worked up to even examine the hoods, quickly closing the doors and deciding it was time to make your exit. 

“Don’t stop now. You were just getting to the good stuff.”  A not so amused voice had your stomach dropping, slowly turning towards the door.  You almost fainted as you saw what you could only presume to the owner of the home.   He was gorgeous, no doubt about that.  But he just about scared the life of you.  Dressed in head to toe black he was glaring at you, arms folded over his broad chest, long hair tied back in a neat ponytail.  He looked exactly like you imagined someone who had a torture chamber would look, complete with the intimidating aura.  

“Go on,” He said harshly.   “Keep running your hands over my belongings.   Touching what isn’t yours.”  

“I’m so sorry,” You said voice quaking.  “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Oh? You didn’t mean to take my key, unlock the door, go down the steps, turn on the lights and go through my cabinents?”  He asked sarcastically. 

“No sir.  I got carried away.  I’m sorry.”  You said. 

“Evil.  My name is Evil.  Use it.”  He said moving towards you.  You held still, feeling like prey being stalked by a predator. 

“I’m sorry Evil.”  You said softly.  “Please don’t tell my bosses. Everything is where it belongs.  I didn’t break anything.”  You cast hopeful eyes up at him, seeing no sign of compassion in the dark depths of his eyes.  

“I know exactly what you did.  I stood there watching you go through everything.”  Evil said.  “But you stopped before the fun stuff.  Come along, let me show you.”  You winced as his hand dug into the tender flesh of your underarm, puling you to the cabinet next to the gags.  He pulled your body in front of his, pinning you between the counter top and his body as he leaned forward to open the cabinet.  

You gasped as an array of paddles was laid out in front of you.  Everything from wooden paddles to leather paddles with studs were organized neatly in and order you could only imagine the meaning of.  You found yourself pushed over at the waist to bend over the counter as Evil reached for the first paddle, a thick dark wooden piece with holes drilled through it.   You held your position as Evil stepped back from you, terrified to move.  Your scram pierced the air as he gave you one sharp rap on the behind before replacing the paddle and grabbing the next.  One by one he used each of the paddles; from wooden to leather to aluminum; on you until you were a crying mess, begging pathetically when he pulled out the last one out. It was terrifying long steel with wicked looking barbs.   Once again you screamed as he spanked you once before placing it back in the cabinet and closing it. 

Grabbing you by the hair he pulled you along to the next cabinet.

“Those were my paddles.  Now you’re going to meet my crops and straps.” Evil said pulling open the doors and revealing yet another collection of torture implements.  It didn’t take you long while he was using the paddles that they were organized by which caused the most pain, and you eyed the contents of this cabinet with trepidation.  You didn’t know how you were going to take a beating from each of these.  

Grabbing the first crop he gave you a quick swat and you almost cried in relief that it barely hurt. 

“Yes, that one doesn’t hurt much on the ass.  Especially through pants.”  Evil said noting your reaction.  His dark laugh sent chills through you. “It’s designed more for the nipples and cunt.”    They only got worse from there.

Again he worked through the line, striking you one time with each implement and you were sobbing by the end your ass feeling raw and chapped as he pulled you along to the next cabinet. 

“Please no more.  I’m sorry. So so sorry.  I’ll never come in here again.   Please.”  Your pleas grew louder as he opened the cabinet revealing an intimidating selection of whips. 

“Shut up!” Evil said sharply. “You should be thanking me for not making you take off your pants.  I’ve only just begun teaching you this lesson.”  His hand pushed in the center of your back as he commanded you to stay put. 

It took everything you had not to pull away from him as he one by one used the whips to lash across your buttocks, with you fighting to keep on your feet scared of what he might do if you disobeyed him.   Closing the cabinet after replacing the last whip Evil pulled you to a stand pressing himself into you and you could feel how excited he had gotten from punishing you.   You couldn’t help but look towards the last cabinet wondering what was held inside.  He didn’t seem to be dragging you to it. 

“What’s in the last cabinet?”  You sniffled, immediately regretting it as he laughed. 

“Do you want to play with what’s in there?” Evil asked, his breath hot on your ear.  “Most are too faint of heart to go down that path.”  His tongue flicked out over your ear lobe sending a wave of desire to your core.  “Do you want to see?” 

You were 100% sure you did not want to know what was in the cabinet.  His issuing you a warning after what he had already used on you should have nipped any curiosity in the bud.   So why were you still looking at it?  

“You’re still being punished.”  Evil said his arm tightening around your waist.  “I was going to take you over one of the benches and whip you couldn’t possibly stand any more.  Then I was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk straight.”   You whimpered the effect of his words building a fire in your stomach.  “But since you seem so interested in that cabinet I’ll make you an offer.  You pick a bench and I’ll carry out my intended punishment.  Or you elect to let me strap you down to that table over there and use the contents of that cabinet on you.”

“Whet’s in the cabinet?”  You asked again shuddering as his dark chuckle again sent chills through you.

“You don’t get to know that until you make your decision. And there’s no backing out once you make it.”  Evil said stepping back to watch you agonize over your choice.  It really shouldn’t be a choice.  He had warned you about what was in there.  Said the faint of heart shouldn’t go near it.   You thought back to the all the electric play toys he had and wondered what he had that could be worse.   You should just bend over a bench and let him whip and fuck you.   That would be the smart move.   You took a hesitant step towards the benches, looking over the available options and imagining being bent over one while he used one of those whips on you.  He hadn’t specified which whip and you were certain he wasn’t going to tell you.  

Cursing your own curiosity you paused looking longingly at the cabinet.  It was going to kill you not to know what was in there.  

“The cabinet.”   You said with a sigh, sure beyond a doubt that you were going to regret that choice.  Especially when you looked at Evil and saw the smile of pure delight on his face. 

“Go on and look.”  He said.  “Go see your fate.” 

You walked slowly to it already feeling fear fill your very being.  Reaching out a shaking hand you pulled open first one door than another, hand falling like a dead weight as your eyes widened and you backed away quickly intended to run as fast as you could away from Evil and his twisted desires.   Instead you ran straight into his chest his arm wrapping around you as he pushed you back against the counter. 

“Which one should I start with, hmm?” Evil mused running his free hand over the handles of the array of knives staring tauntingly back at you.  “I suppose first I should get you strapped down.  Seems like you’ve lost your willingness to cooperate.”  

Your struggles were ignored and pleas for mercy dismissed as Evil stripped your clothing and then easily hefted you onto the ominous marble slab table that was the center piece of his dungeon.   Thick black leather straps were attached to your wrists and ankles leaving you utterly at his mercy.  He took his time considering his collection before selecting a few of the knives and resting them on the table by your legs. 

The first slice of the blade around the underside had you whimpering.  The pain of the cut wasn’t that bad, but the sting as your blood filled the air had you struggling against your bonds.    Wide eyed and frightened you watched as he drew the blade through your blood and raised it to his mouth, his tongue licking the crimson liquid as he smirked at you. 

“Let’s get dirty.”  He said lowering the blade to flesh again.

[boredbusstories]

Butler Academy Part 3-2

There were just two other customers paying for their purchases at the cashier, in the small shop tucked away in a corner of the street. Ming felt slightly embarassed as he trailed behind Raj, walking down the rows of brightly coloured underwear. 'I don't think these underwear will impress the judges. And what do these even cover anyway?' Ming complained, poking at a shiny purple thong. 'Hmm, I guess I should have done abit more research.' Raj agreed, staring at the pricetags. These underwear were definitely not the 3 for $19.90 variety and way beyond his budget. 'Hello gentlemen. We are closing soon. How may I assist you?' A deep voice greeted them cheerfully. Ming and Raj turned to see the cashier standing behind them He was taller than Raj, well-built and seemed in his late forties/early fifties. He was wearing a tight white tshirt and grey slacks, with closely cropped salt-and-paper hair and a matching handlebar mustache. Ming thought he looked dashing for an older guy. 'Oh uh, we're just looking to get some nice underwear.' Raj replied lamely. 'Well, I think I can help with that.' The cashier smiled and gestured at the rows 'Perhaps something matching for the sweet couple?' 'Oh no, we're not together!' Ming and Raj spluttered at the same time. The cashier threw his head back and laughed. 'I'm just teasing. But we do have undies for every need and occasion. I could help better if I had more reference to start with.' 'Well honestly, we're going for an interview at NPBA and we thought having some nice undies might help.' Ming replied. The cashier raised his eyebrow and gave them a 'Ah I should have known' look. He paused and thought for a moment. 'Well, it's been a slow day today. I suppose I could let you use the VIP room. I'm Mark by the way, I own this shop. Come this way.' Mark gestured. 'Nice to meet you. I'm Raj, and this is Ming.' Raj called out as they followed Mark towards a small dark door at the back of the shop. Pushing the door open, Mark ushered Raj and Ming into a surprising large room. 'I'll just go and close the shop. My assistant, Leslie, will be here shortly to take your measurements. Be right back.' Mark stepped away. Ming and Raj sat on the stools, looking around the room. It was fancy, with royal purple wallpaper, pictures and decorations, a few stools and several full length standing mirrors scattered about. A soft knock followed by a gentle male voice sounded. 'Hello, I'm Leslie. Sir told me to take your measurements.' Ming's eyes widened as Leslie entered the room. Leslie was lean and slightly shorter than Ming, with dark floppy hair and eyebrows, fair skin and sultry lips. The next immediate detail that drew Ming's attention was that Leslie was only dressed in short teal-coloured shorts, and a navy apron with a bear cartoon on the pouch. Ming glanced at Raj, who had a similar surprised expression. Leslie walked towards Ming and knelt down in front of him. 'Hold your hands out, please.' Leslie instructed politely, stretching out his lightly muscled arms and holding up a measuring tape. Ming complied as Leslie measured his waist and thighs. Ming looked down at Leslie's face, which was dangerously close to Ming's groin. Ming had to admit that Leslie was pretty, with a flawless complexion. He felt his cock stirring and tried his hardest to stop any reaction. 'Done, thank you,' Leslie said as he moved over to Raj and took his measurements. Mark returned and took a seat at the side, watching them. Once he was finished, Leslie stood and asked with a straight-face 'And how big are your cocks when fully hard?' Ming gaped at the sudden personal question, as Mark laughed. 'Don't worry, we just want to make sure that the upper band of the underwear is sufficient to cover any accidental hard-ons. You could use these models for reference.' Mark walked over to the wall and removed a black cloth draped over a shelf, revealing a row of phallic shapes. Ming and Raj moved towards it hesitantly. They turned out to be flesh-coloured dildos in ascending size.

'Oh uh... I think I'm about this?' Ming pointed. 'Nah bro, you're about here. Raj pointed at a slightly bigger piece. 'And I guess I'm about here then.' he pointed to another. Ming looked over. 'Hmm, yours is thicker perhaps?' They both realised with burning embarassment what they had said at the same time. Mark gave a deep laugh. 'Leslie, could you go get some samples, please? ' 'Yes, Sir' Leslie bowed and went off. 'We'll be letting you try a few pieces. Meanwhile, take a seat with me.' Mark sat down. 'So what made you decide to take up butlering?'' Ming and Raj sat down opposite Mark. Raj replied first. 'I know its not conventional, but I think it will open many doors for me in future. I want to be a leader on an international stage.' Ming was impressed. He knew that Raj had always been ambitious. He was also slightly annoyed, because he hadn't prepared an answer for himself yet. 'Uh honestly, I wasn't sure what vocation I wanted, so I went with Raj to the open house. I guess I was lucky to be selected.' Ming said, frowning as he thought about it. Mark gave another of his pleasant deep laughs. 'I like both of your honesty. Ah, but are you prepared for your interviews then. What about your Show?' Ming's face was a complete blank. Raj, prepared as always, replied. 'Actually, that's what we are here for. Our attire for our Show.' Raj turned to Ming 'Ah sorry, I was going to tell you tonight.' 'What show are you talking about?' Ming asked, bewildered. 'I'm not fully sure but I read that all butlers have been trained to Show. Apparently, there was a hotel attendent who briefly saw a famous butler performing for some visiting dignitaries. However, there weren't many details. I'm just guessing what the Show could be about.' Raj explained. Ming's face remained confused. Mark laughed. 'You're a sharp one. You just might be right. Ah, here comes Leslie now.' he said as Leslie walked in with a box in his hands. 'I may happen to know a thing or two about butlers and their underwear. Those for general use are usually in pristine white, to show cleanliness and class. Nowadays though, younger butlers do prefer to add some embellishments as their personal styles. All butlers are given their own customised underwear with the butler crest and their names or initials. It is a rite of passage to recieve one. Of course, their masters or mistresses may request them to wear more other kinds of underwear for special occasions, but they mostly stick with the whities.' Mark sorted though the box and pulled out two coloured undies. 'However, let's be abit more adventurous for your interviews. Here, try these on.' 'Thanks. Uh, where can we change?' Ming asked. 'Are you training to be butlers or not?' Mark raised an eyebrow. Raj caught it quick. He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants and underwear in one go, his soft cock flopping as he walked over to put his pants on a stool. Ming followed, just a beat behind, taking off his pants and putting on the underwear that Mark had given him. It was a light blue briefs with white lining, in a material that was extremely smooth and soft on his skin. The size was right, close against his skin without feeling tight or stretched. He looked over at a mirror and admired how the cloth hugged his butt, accentuating the curve. When he turned over, he quickly covered his groin with his hands. The material clearly made the shape of his cock visible. He looked over to Raj, who was wearing light grey briefs with yellow lining. His cock was similarly exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination. 'Perfect fits' Mark commented in a satisfied tone, walking around the two men standing in just their tshirts and undies. 'The colour fits your tone well. It should impress the judges.' 'And now, perhaps you would like Leslie to help show you a few moves that you could use for your own Show.' 'Yes, please.' Raj quickly accepted. Mark laughed and he nodded at Leslie. Leslie bowed, and reached out to remove his apron, revealing a swimmers chest and abs with two small

pink nipples. He sauntered to the middle of the room, shirtless and in his short shorts that exposed his toned thighs. Soft sensual music suddenly came on, as Leslie spread his legs and gyrated to the music. He moved his hands slowly across his chest, his flat stomach, down to his thigh as he dipped down and stood up. He turned and pushed his ass out, dipping against the music, making and moving in an s-shape with his body. Leslie turn his face and looked over his shoulder, his hair falling over his face, flashing a kittenish smile at his audience. Ming stared, mesmerized as Leslie's toned arm and back muscles moved against his movements. He had a sudden flash of memory across his mind of Troy, back during the open house, standing with his cock in his hands and smiling at his audience. 'Shit!' Ming thought, as he felt his cock stiffening. Leslie pulled his shorts down slowly to his ankles and then took them off, exposing his milky-white, smooth ass. He dipped down again, exposing his dangling balls and hairless pink asshole, wagging it towards his observers. He then turned around, revealing his semi-hard 6.5in cut cock. Leslie walked over to Ming, trailing his fingers over his chest. He dipped down again, his face close to Ming's fully erect cock. Leslie looked up, breathing warm air against Ming's bulge. Ming gave an involuntary moan and resisted the urge to grab Leslie's head and pump his groin against his soft pink lips. As the music hit a crescendo, Leslie flicked his pink tongue into the air, almost touching Ming's dickhead, then stood up and looked over at Mark. 'A perfect Show, as always. I'm fucking turned on!' Mark laughed. 'Confidence. Courage. Captivating. A butler's creed. Well boys, that was just a little tip for you ahead of your interviews. You can keep the underwear, and I'll give you another one too. A small gift from me for good luck.' A few moments later, Ming and Raj were standing outside the shop holding paper bags with their new underwear. Mark had left the room and disappeared, as Leslie quickly dressed, packed their items and ushered them out of the shop. 'What just happened?' Ming asked out loud, to no one in particular. 'I suspect that Leslie is a butler, or have had butler training. I'm not sure who Mark is though.' Raj looked down at his paper bag, and burst into a wide grin. 'Hey, we saved a lot of money on these! Ming looked down at his paper bag and then back at Raj. 'My balls are feeling so achy.' he complained. Raj laughed and grabbed his own balls. 'That pretty boy bloody knew what he was doing. C'mon, let's get back to camp. We can practice our blowjob skills.'

[perksofbeingawaifu]

caddy shack

in face melting heat, jean and eren discuss many things of extreme importance while ogling their supervisor levi. ererijean. this is just self indulgent sillies

--

“You know what I like?” Eren asked.

“Suckin’ dick?” Jean teased, but his heart was only half in it, he was too busy fanning himself on the bench in the caddy shack. The oppressive heat had sap leaching out of the wooden boards giving the place a sickly sweet smell. It was only slightly better inside, in the shade, than out on the course.

“Yes, but also…” Eren struggled upright, which was difficult with Jean draped over him. “Watching Levi drive around in the carts.”

“Mm,” Jean agreed.

The humidity was so overwhelming, Eren’s hair was curling around the brim of his baseball cap, which was unfair Jean thought. And Jean’s eyes looked very honey colored in the bright light thought Eren as he stuck a blade of grass in Jean’s ear only to have him slap it away. Out in the distance, the groan of Levi’s golf cart drew nearer.

“The wind tousling his silken locks.”

“Mhm.”

“The sound of the shocks crying out in pain as he speeds over the hills,” Eren continued wistfully.

“He likes speed that one,” Jean said, putting his hat over his eyes.

“The grinding noise the cart makes because he has no idea how to use the clutch,” Eren said as they heard the telltale sound of their boss swearing at the cart.

“He doesn’t need it, the carts simply obey. All bend to his will. I’ve seen him break a nine iron over his knee.”

“The way he squeals to a halt in front of the caddy shack,” Eren sighed as Levi hit the curb with some vehemence.

“It’s like peals of laughter,” Jean chorused.

“The way he says—“

“What are you little cock gobblers doing?” Levi snapped, kicking the bottom of the bench where they were thrown across.

“Ain’t no fish bitin’ boss,” Jean drawled, fanning himself with his hat.

Levi ripped it out of his hand and smacked the side of Jean’s head.

“The Reiss brothers are coming over with a big client and you’re the only ones still here, so it’s all hands on deck, put on some fucking deodorant—the real stuff not that cheap ass, dick cheese smelling Axe body spray,” Levi snapped and then went to dust off the nicer golf carts for the guests.

“How exactly does one gobble cock?” Jean asked philosophically.

“I think it’s like when you have a really big handful of popcorn and you just kindof shove it all in your face like so.” Eren’s demonstration was quite informative.

“I imagine it’s more like feeding an apple to a horse. You know how the horse’s lips kindof go wicker-wicker,” Jean wiggled his own full lips around as he picked up Rod Reiss’ golf clubs.

“You would think it’s like a horse, horse face,” Eren said kicking a clump of perfectly manicured onto Jean’s tennis shoes.

“You just like horse dick, horse gobbler,” Jean said, shoving Eren, and knocking the clubs Eren was carrying to the ground.

Levi’s head rotated around like a hawk and Jean hastily helped Eren pick them up.

“Nice shot, sir,” Eren praised Uri Reiss as he teed off, earning him a $5 tip.

The men piled in the cart and insisted on driving themselves, leaving Eren, Jean, and Levi in the shitty cart. Before Eren could board, Levi grabbed his ear.

“You kick another hole in this turf and I will grind you up in the woodchipper and then spread your guts as fertilizer for this beautiful lawn,” Levi hissed. “Now help me push this up the hill.”

Eren and Jean got out to shove it up the hill, while once again Levi refused to acknowledge the clutch on the dead cart. As they drifted down, the machine revved back to life with a sound like a leaf blower.

Eren and Jean gripped the sides as Levi rocketed down the hill. Eren’s knuckles were white, Jean crossed himself and uttered a prayer. Levi crested another hill and Jean braced for what he called “taint breakers,” aka the heavy way Levi’s cart would land. Eren cupped himself should he fall forward and break the family jewels on the shift stick.

“You know what I love?” Eren asked, teeth clattering as the machine attempted to use momentum to make it up the gravel hill.

“Taking it up the butt,” Jean guessed, eyes closed, wishing he had taken that Dramamine.

“Yes, but the pressed lines in his khakis.”

“The pleats do accentuate his package,” Jean agreed, hoping Levi couldn’t hear them over the roar of the motor.

They lurched to a halt and Jean fell off the cart and rolled on the grass, thankful to be on land again. Eren landed on him.

“Knock it off, I swear to god, you two spend more time on the ground than you do carrying clubs,” Levi said, digging his cleats into Jean’s belly.

Levi shouldered the client’s bag and then paused. “You know…I kindof thought cock gobbling was like…multiple dicks.”

“An interesting premise,” Jean said from the ground, ankles crossed behind him.

“Indeed,” Eren said, tucking a dandelion behind his ear.

“Now is that multiple dicks at once, or one at a time?” Jean asked, grabbing his own bag and dragging it behind him.

“Yes, a community of dicks, or a line of succession?” Eren mused.

“In which case, being a cock gobbler is something of a compliment,” Jean said, pulling out Uri Reiss’ putter.

“A multitasker,” Eren agreed.

They were very quiet as each of the men lined up a shot.

“Excellent sir, you’re under par,” Jean praised and received a $20.

No one kissed ass quite like Jean. When the elder Reiss brother’s back was turned, Jean licked the edge of the bill, flicking his tongue obscenely. Eren flipped him off.

“That’s nasty, money is dirty,” Levi said, wrinkling his nose.

The client missed another shot. He claimed the ball was the reason. Levi quickly wiped the grass off of his club with a towel.

“You know what I love?” Eren whispered, as the client lined up another shot.

“Dicks flying at you from every angle?”

“Yes, obviously, but I love how he cleans balls. Have you ever seen a man more dedicated to polishing balls?”

“You?” Jean suggested.

“It’s why we’re meant for one another Levi and I. Levi and me. Levi and I?”

Jean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter because Levi likes me.”

“Bullshit, I clean better than you.”

“You clean your asscrack, but you don’t clean clean.”

Levi looked over to see both Eren and Jean aggressively polishing their clubs. Jean put his between his legs and slid a rag up and down the shaft. Levi’s brow twitched. Jean finished and put the club away.

“No stamina. See? This is why Levi likes me better because I take my time, I’m thorough and—“ Eren added a lil spitshine to the club. “I make it sparkle—ow!”

Levi chucked a golf ball at his head. The muscle in his jaw was throbbing as he glared at them.

“QUIT FUCKING AROUND,” he mouthed.

There was another bumpy ride to the next hole.

“Levi I’m too motion sick to caddy,” Jean complained.

“Get your bony ass up,” Levi jabbed him with the client’s driver.

“Hi hi!” Christa cheered as she drove past them in the drink cart, the sound of hundreds of dollars of liquor clanking merrily. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

The client whistled appreciatively and ribbed Levi. “Look at that one. ‘Bout as ripe as a peach, don’t you think?”

Levi turned his long suffering gaze to Jean and Eren.

“Hi Daddy!” Christa cried, as Rod Reiss gave her a kiss on the temple. “Mint Julep? Uncle Uri?”

The client paled and Jean and Eren became very interested in the ground trying not to snort, but when the sleazy man’s back was turned, the two of them burst into laughter.

“Christa make us drinks,” Eren begged.

“No.”

“Christa make us hummers,” Jean pleaded, hanging off the edge of the cart.

“No, you know I can’t give you guys drinks. I’ll get in trouble. You’ll get in trouble.”

“Christa pleaseee,” Jean whined.

“Christaaa,” Eren hung off of her waist.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Wow,” said Eren, lifting up his shirt. “It’s like you forgot your friend. Mr. Bellyshot.”

“I still can’t believe I did that. Ymir was so mad.”

“Don’t feel bad, Christa,” Jean said, patting Eren’s flat and very tan stomach. “Everyone has had a shot off of this belly. It is a very slutty belly.”

“It’s true. I am not picky.”

“I haven’t,” Levi said, resting his elbows while the golfers clinked their glasses together.

“That can easily change,” Eren said, eyes growing bright. “Come to the bonfire with us tonight!”

Levi snorted. “If I wanted the taste of cheap vodka, pubes and bellybutton lint, I’d give it a try.”

“I have lots of other places you can do shots off of!” Eren insisted. “Check out the gunshow.”

He flexed. Levi only looked over him with a bored and flat expression.

“Christa, is this your beach ball?” Jean asked, holding an imaginary ball.

“IS THIS YOUR BEACH BALL?” Eren mimicked him, both now flexing for both Christa and Levi’s benefit.

“Is this your beach ball?” Jean continued strutting.

Levi sighed. “I don’t like drinking much. Okay, we’re on. Let’s go.”

“Jean,” Eren said, grabbing his arm. “I have had a sudden conversion. I am forsaking any and all alcohol as of this very moment. I will live life completely dry. It is my destiny.”

“Then I must as well. I bet I’ll go sober even better than you.”

“Not possible.”

“Why is everything a competition between you two?” Levi sighed.

At the next hole, the client (whose name they really should have known by now if they had been paying attention), was having a great deal of trouble. A double whiskey will do that to you.

“This stupid rental club is horrible,” he complained loudly. “Do you see how off balance it is?”

“Would you like me to retrieve a new driver from the clubhouse for you, sir?” Levi asked.

“You could borrow mine,” Uri offered.

“No thanks, I never touch another man’s clubs,” the client joked and the three of them guffawed.

“See Jean, the punchline is an implied homophobia. That touching another man’s club, because of the phallic shape of the object, it offers the suggestion that one could be gay should he thus grasp it. And by saying he won’t touch them, he is reinforcing his heterosexuality.”

“Gay panic as a joke. Revolutionary. A startling new concept,” Jean drawled.

“Do you see this club?” the client asked Levi.

“Yes, sir,” Levi nodded.

“Do you see how it’s weighted?” he held it up for Levi to examine.

“Looks fine to me, sir, but I’m not an expert,” Levi said evenly.

“Here, you give it a try,” he said holding it out to Levi.

“Oh no, sir, I couldn’t,” Levi insisted, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Here, take it,” the client said, forcing it into Levi’s hand. “Go on, the ball isn’t going to bite.”

For once Jean and Eren were quiet. They gave Levi a brief nod of silent support. Levi rolled his shoulders, looking behind him at Jean and Eren. Eren gave a thumbs up. Levi gave the smallest ghost of a smile.

“Oh god, he’s killed me,” Eren said clutching his heart.

And then Levi swung. His follow through and form were perfect, just like the guy on the PGA label. Jean let out a low whistle. They watched the little white ball land, bounce once and then roll merely a foot from the flag.

“Seems fine to me, sir,” Levi said innocently enough, handing the man back his club and retrieving a new ball for him.

“You know what I love?” Jean asked.

“Ass?” Eren guessed.

“Yes, more specifically Levi’s. And his shoulders. And abs.”

Eren fainted into Jean’s arms.

Levi didn’t get a tip. Eren drove them back to the caddy shack, his drive offered a surprising lack of gut wrenching turns and death drops and Jean’s motion sickness abated.

“I’m so tired, I can barely move,” Jean groaned, lying down on the grass.

“At least you two got paid. How much did you make?” Levi asked.

“$150 for the whole day,” Eren said.

“$180 but I think that extra thirty is because I gave Mrs. Kaczminski some stroke tips and let her grope my butt,” Jean said.

“How’d she even find it?” Eren asked, sitting on him. “It’s so bony. Feel that, now that’s a butt.”

“Levi!” Erwin called, jogging over.

“Erwin,” Levi acknowledged his boss as Eren and Jean rolled on the ground in an attempt to cover the other in grass stains.

Erwin gave a hesitant eye at the two figures on the ground, but simple stepped over them.

“My two best caddies,” Levi explained.

“So the only ones who bothered to show up and not reek of pot?”

“Bingo,” Levi grimaced. “Unfortunately this is the best I’ve got. Ignore them, their brains melted on the course hours ago.”

“It’s so hot, Erwin,” Eren complained.

“Yeah, high of 98F,” Erwin agreed. “I was surprised when the Reiss brothers showed up so late in the day, but apparently their client insisted. They told me what happened out on the course. Said you showed their guest up.”

Rather than offering reproach, Erwin looked proud.

“It was a gorgeous shot, I’m still tingling all over,” Eren sighed.

“Anyway, they said their guest didn’t bother to tip you, so they handed me this to give to you.”

Erwin held out an envelope.

“CASH! THE GOLDEN GOD!” Jean bellowed. “Shower me in bills Levi.”

“$200, nice,” Levi said, looking a great deal happier than he had before.

“You’d make a great instructor if you’re ever interested,” Erwin said as he left, waving behind him.

They helped Levi close down the shack and then, like always, it was Eren’s ritual to beg Levi to come hang out with them. He never did.

“Are you coming to the bonfire?” Eren asked hopefully, even as Jean rolled his eyes.

“Sure.” Levi shrugged.

“Really?” Eren’s eyes grew wide, Jean stopped in shock.

“Yeah, why not.”

Eren let out a whoop and then pretended his legs had given out.

“You’ll have to carry me to my car, Levi,” Eren begged.

To both his and Jean’s surprise, Levi did pick him up.

“Me next!” Jean bounced next to him.

“Here, but I’ll drive us,” Levi said, setting Jean down next to his car.

“Uh,” they both stalled, looking uncertain at Levi’s beat up Camry.

Levi’s driving was not any better in a real car than in a golf cart.

[8emmy]

The Austen Experience

Chapter 3: “How quick come the reasons for approving what we like.”

Start from Chapter 1 Chapter 2 

Nesta sat on the stoop of her apartment staring out on to the road waiting to be picked up by Feyre and Rhys. Feyre had texted earlier saying that they were on their way from dads. Feyre was the only daughter that had yet moved from dad’s apartment. She wouldn’t leave him alone, she had to look out for him. Nesta hated that Feyre was so kind hearted, that she was willing to help their father after the amount of shit he pulled on his girls. The loan sharks banging at the apartment door in the middle of the night, hiding in mother’s armoire, snuggling close with her baby sisters to stop them from crying out and drawing their attention. Their father calling from a cell from the police station trying to get his daughters to post bail, he didn’t mean to get so drunk that night, he just lost a lot of money. “We’ll be eating cup-o-noodle for a while but once I get the money we’ll be eating lobster for every meal,” he used to promise as they dragged him to the pull out sofa. And yet Feyre stayed, she would say that he was getting better, better than last month when he spent some of Feyre’s hard earn money on a horse race, and lost it again. Feyre would take him to AA meetings hoping that getting him off the bottle might mean that Feyre wouldn’t have to sleep with her wallet under her pillow. But Nesta and Elaine saw what Feyre couldn’t, a man that was too far gone, he couldn’t be changed, not since mother's death. Nesta clicked her heels together as she checked her phone one more time to make sure that Feyre hadn't sent her anything else. Feyre didn't text her. With a sigh, Nesta went back to staring out at the road. Feyre had always been the one that did stuff, helped to make extra money that they would use for groceries and hide the extra change in their socks from their father. She would walk to school to save up her bus money, always the penny pincher, saving never spending. But Nesta did, she would use money as a way to get back from her father. She would steal Feyre’s money to buy new shoes, or a jacket, or a stupid piece of chocolate. Nesta was horrible as a child. Eleven and she were already stealing from family. She would only play with Elaine, never letting Feyre play with their dollar store Barbie dolls. It was hard to actually form a better relationship with Feyre, always so concerned that Feyre would never forgive the childhood bully Nesta was. But surprisingly Feyre did. She was more than happy to open her arms for Nesta, never made a complaint to have her call. Feyre and Elaine were quite similar there, that they could forgive, even Elaine forgave their father. But Nesta was her mother’s daughter, she held grudges like medals, even as old as they were.

“Nesta!” Feyre calls out. She was parked a few buildings down. Feyre got out of the car to wave Nesta down. Getting up Nesta swings her purse over her shoulder. She didn’t wear a smile as she walked to Feyre who had a large one. “See we made it two minutes earlier than we planned.” “Yeah, I was worried for a second that you forget where I lived.”  She gave her sister hug. “If you had it your way no one except Elaine would nowhere you lived,” Feyre says opening the door for Nesta to get in. “Hi Nesta, it’s nice of you to have invited me to brunch,” Rhys greeted as Nesta slid into the back. The car smells new, the leather seats were cool on her legs. “Yes, well we wouldn't want you to starve,” Nesta says coldly. She really didn’t want to like him, not until he actually proved to be a normal decent person, no use to getting attached to garbage. “No, no we wouldn’t.” Feyre slid into the front passenger seat. With seat belts buckled and greetings finished the three of them were off ready to do a bit of spying on the delivery boy. The cafe across from Sweet Stems was very industrial. The lights were, of course, Edison bulbs hung in geometric shape chandeliers, the tables were made from the tops of old shipping barrels and all the male baristas had Victorian mustaches. “I think we found the breeding grounds of the hipsters,” Rhys says looking around the place. Feyre lets out a little giggle. “Cauldron save us all,” Nesta whispers back, as she pretended to pray to the Cauldron. That made both Feyre and Rhys chuckle. After finding a table close to the window Rhys got up to buy the first round of coffees. “He seems nice,” Nesta says as the two sisters watch a brunet headed man help Elaine load up a truck full of large vases full of flowers. “Well, if Elaine likes him then he must be nice, or at least I would hope so.” “No, I’m talking about Rhys. He seems… sweet.” The word sweet tasted tart in her mouth. Feyre cheeks blushed, she looked behind her to Rhys still in line for coffee, he gives Feyre a little wave. “He is when he isn't being a jerk.” They go back into silence watching as the man takes the vase from Elaine with a large handsome smile. “He’s got a nice face,” Nesta says. “And a nice ass by the look of it,” Feyre adds. “Are you talking about mine? Because you can always test that theory, Feyre darling.” Rhys interrupts. Feyre’s blush deepens as Rhys gives her a wicked smile. Feyre waits till all the drinks are placed on the table before whacking his shoulder. “Not funny, we’re talking about him.” Feyre points to the man that had just disappeared into the truck. “It doesn’t help you when you’re pointing at my reflection, darling.” Nesta has to hide a snicker at Feyre’s face turning even more red than before. Rhys laugh was rich and deep, he takes a drink from his mug telling Feyre to do the same. He even had the balls to ask to take a sip from Feyre’s mug, and while he did he made sure to lick the rim. “Our first indirect kiss, and over a coffee date too.” “This is not a date, not with my sister watching your pathetic flirting skills.” Feyre huffed taking a napkin to get rid of Rhys’s saliva. “But you love it. Do let me remind you that you found my ass to be chiseled by great Italian artists,” his smirk could make most women blush but Feyre just rolled her eyes. “I have never said that your ass was ‘chiseled’ by Italian artists.” “But you just did.” Rhys shoulder gets another slap from an angry Feyre. Nesta really felt third wheeling with the two of them. The way they bantered like they’ve been friends for years, and the sexual tension was thicker than the concrete counters of the barista bar. Nesta went back to looking out the window. She gasps and points vigorously at the window. “They’re kissing! Elaine is kissing him! Isn’t that illegal?” Feyre looks out of the window with her own shock in horror. “I would think that there would be a law against bosses kissing their employees,” Feyre says not able to take her eyes off Elaine locking lips with the delivery boy. The two were partly hidden from the trunk of the truck. “If they're both legal adults there shouldn’t really be a problem,” Rhys chimes in. “But if they break up the guy could sue for sexual harassment or being treated differently because of the past relationship he had with Elaine. Elaine can't afford an account let alone a lawyer.” Feyre says watching as her sister steps away from her lover with a sweet smile. They close the trunk before going back into the shop. “We can't say anything,” Nesta says breaking her glance from the window to her mug. “Elaine would be so mad if we told her we saw her.” “Then what do you suppose we do then? Pretend that she hasn't made a stupid decision? That she won’t be screwed over once she fires the guy?” Feyre asks still looking out the window as if she could see into the shop herself. “Yes, we keep quiet. It’s her own grave she's digging, we are not going to help her get out of it. She’s an adult.” Nesta takes a deep sip from her mug. Rhys still hasn’t said anything. His eyes had been glued to the contents of his half finished coffee.   Nesta wakes up to the sound knocking at her door. Last night when she got home she remembered that she forget to pack pajamas and toiletries. After she went over everything in her bag she went back to reading before passing out over her covers. Nesta got upper bed wrapping a robe around her as she groggily opens the door with the chain still in place. A habit she picked up from her childhood of worrying about loan sharks storming in. Feyre was standing out in front of her door, she had a large portfolio bag swung over her shoulder and her cross body bag on the other. In one hand she held a drink tray with three coffees. “Give me a sec,” Nesta says as she closes the door to unchain the lock. She opens the door wide enough for Feyre and her bags to come in. “Hey, I thought if we were going to be up early I might as well get the caffeine.” Feyre walks further into the apartment, her eyes taking in the small room around her. There was no homey feeling in here except for the books. Everything was tidy except for the bed, and the only pictures in the place were a few, a painting that Feyre painted for Nesta last Christmas hung above the bed, it was an abstract piece of a penis. Nesta liked the colors and how you really couldn’t even make out the phallic from all the other strokes. The other pictures were of Nesta and her sisters, the one with mom, at every graduation that they had, but nothing with friends. Nesta moves past Feyre moving to her closet to pull out clothing. “I’m just going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable, sorry about the mess.” Feyre sat on the red armchair next to the window. Nesta’s apartment was so cold, and lonely. Feyre places the drink tray on the desk taking her coffee and taking a sip. She watches her older sister grab clothing from her well-organized closet before heading to what Feyre presumed to be the bathroom. Feyre knew that her relationship with Nesta wasn’t the same like her two older sisters had. Feyre and Nesta fought and disagreed with the majority of Feyre’s life, never really getting along. It didn’t mean that they hated each other, they just weren’t best friends. Even sitting here knowing that Nesta had invited her to come in she felt like she was intruding. Her place in the apartment was not in the way of Nesta, Nesta said to make herself comfortable but Feyre felt that if she touched anything that perfection would be destroyed by a mere touch, that she would leave a trail of paint along the floor boards. Her apartment (dad’s apartment) was littered with knickknacks and dishes yet to be cleaned. Paintings and pictures hung on every wall like a makeshift art gallery. The pullout sofa was always pulled out with dad’s messy bedding or him just laying there watching tv. Her room that she used to share with her sisters, had a small twin sized bed in there now so she had more room to paint. Elaine had used the small balcony as a garden that was easy to tend to for Feyre. Their small bathroom was cramped with tons of different products. And here in Nesta’s, it felt like an Ikea showroom. With candles filling up the unusable fireplace that sat on the wall in front of the bed. Nesta comes out with her hair still wet and her clothes simple. Her face was glossy from skin care lotions. “I must have slept through my alarms,” Nesta says pulling out a pair of socks from another drawer inside her closet. “Well, kickboxing was cut short so I might have arrived a little earlier than what we planned.” Feyre watches Nesta. Her older sister had the perfect posture, her face sharp and breathtaking, it was almost sad that Nesta defensive nature curdled her personality. “Which one is mine?” Nesta walks to the desk pointing at the remaining to go cups. “Which ever, both you and Elaine like your coffee with eight sugars,” Feyre moved slightly to look out the window, “Hey, we’re okay?” Nesta’s face from the reflection looked taken a back before going back to aloof. “Yes, why wouldn’t we?” “I don’t know, you’re sometimes really hard to read.” “Are we okay?” Nesta’s voice was soft. Feyre looked at her with a small smile. “Of course we are.” Elaine arrived five minutes later. Luckily her coffee was still warm. Helping to put Feyre’s art supplies into the trunk of Elaine’s second hand 2006 Chevrolet Cobalt. Nesta sat up front with her duffle bag by her feet, Feyre squeezed into the back with her long legs squished to Nesta’s seat. Nesta kindly moved her chair up till her knees were close to the dashboard. “Thanks,” Feyre says pulling out her phone to text. Elaine starts up the car and they began the trek to Austenland, it was only an hour and a half out of the city. “Who are you texting?” Eliane asks Feyre, her eyes looking at the mirror to the back before backing to the road. “Mor, just texting her that we’re on our way. You’ll have to drop us at the guest parking area. No guests are allowed to the back entireness, breaks the illusion.” Feyre said while still texting. “Okay, might be easier than trying to find employee parking.” Austenland was on an estate, the gates the welcomed you in was a long driveway taking you up towards a beautiful Georgian estate. The sides of the roads were well trim trees separating the acres of the greenest grass. It felt as if you were stepping back into time other than the fact that they were driving in a car from 2006. “They must have built this house, Prythian doesn’t have any of these old manors from the 18th century,” Nesta says breathlessly. “No, it was built by a guy in the 18th century, his entire family has lived in that house. Last year it was passed down to the current owner that found that upkeep was expensive so they decided to create Austenland.” Feyre explained. “The guy who owns the place lives in the small house close to the stables, where some of the other employees live. It’s a bit easier to just live on the estate than trying to commute.” “They have horses?” Elaine asks excitedly. “Yeah.” Nesta’s stomach dropped, hopefully riding was optional. She was not a big fan of large beasts. They drive up to a fork in the road, a sign pointed both sides marking the right as the stable house and the left the manor. Feyre pointed that they had to go up to the manor and that there will be another fork for the parking lot. But Feyre told them to stop so she could grab her stuff and head down to the stables. “I need to sign in and get dressed.” She says. “Bye Elaine, I’ll text you once I get home. And Nesta see you around!” With a large smile and carrying her belongings, she waved off the car. The Parking lot was just a gravel patch of land where some cars were parked. There were a carriage and a man with a frilly hat waiting at the other end of the lot. He waved at them as they parked. Elaine followed Nesta up to the carriage. “Madame,” the man bows deeply at his hips, he stands up straight. “Are you Ms. Nesta Archeron?” “Yes,” Nesta replies. She looked the man up and down. He was dressed as a traditional coachman. His stockings were showing off his calfs and his shoes and little adornments of ribbons. “Madame may you follow me to the house.” He took Nesta’s bag to out in the carriage. Nesta turned to Elaine. “I guess this bye, I’ll talk to you once I get home. Maybe Feyre will send you a quick message from me.” Nesta tells her sister before hugging her. Elaine smiles widely. “Have fun, and don’t just read the entire time.” “I’ll try.” Nesta gets help getting into the carriage by the coachman. “We’ll be heading to the large house where you will be greeted by the Lady of the house and be told the rules before you will be dressed.” He tells her before closing the carriage door. Nesta waves to her sister as the horse carries her off onto another path.