#I guess the enthusiastic consent rule is a good one to go off but like.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.10

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no way

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for a surprise when her british exchange student is a little...odd.

warnings (AYO please pay attention to these this time it’s not just swearing): swearing, underage drinking (no i do not condone this ig), beginning elements of smut but def not too explicit, i think you can consider it dubcon ?? if both people are drunk bc i don’t think you can actually consent if youre drunk (plz rest assured tho they are both 18 hehe)

a/n: “hey where did this come from” yeah so hey yall ive never written such an intense scene before but i’ve spent so much time w these characters that i decided i kind of had to. there’s no like...real sex in this and i don’t imagine that i’d describe it in this much detail if i ever decided to write it but um.. anyways. i hope y’all enjoy. thanks for suffering for this long ! i hope i’ve made it worth it

word count: 4k

music recs:

cloud 9 -- beach bunny

the adults are talking -- the strokes

anything from the strokes tbh

tags ! :) @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

“Thank fucking god for the generator,” said Y/N as she flew around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together in her quest to make New Year’s Eve breakfast. Draco was sitting, unamused and completely silent, at the table. They’d been snowed in for a few days now with her parents nowhere near able to make it to the suburbs. For some reason, the entire city of Cincinnati had decided that the day before Christmas was the best time to schedule maintenance on literally every single one of their plows. “Can you imagine living here without heat? Or power? I’d die.”

Draco hummed in response. A glance over confirmed that he was deep in thought, a scarlet colored letter clutched firmly in his hand (hello, Nathaniel Hawthorne). Jealousy curdled inside of her as her thoughts turned to a dark place--it was Pansy, that Pansy Parkinson.

Knowing her intuition, she was probably his grandmother or something. Why else would she have written so many letters?

After she finished plating all of the pancakes, she allowed herself to sneak a peek at the envelope.

Astoria Greengrass

She frowned. Astoria? She’d never seen that name before.

“What is this?” asked Draco as he picked up his fork to poke at the pancake on his plate.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Have you never had a pancake before?”

“A pancake?” He gave his plate a stern look. “It looks...like a soggy pastry.”

“Fuck you, I made that,” responded Y/N. “Try it with butter and maple syrup. And then tell me it’s a soggy pastry.”

She took out her fork and knife, demonstrating very clearly what she meant as she spread butter over the top of her pancake. She’d learned that Draco was too proud to ask what she meant when she introduced him to American/muggle foods--the last time he tried to deduce something himself, he ended up pouring ketchup over the top of his hamburger bun instead of actually putting it on the patty.

A sense of satisfaction flowed into her as she saw him follow suit, spreading the warmed butter and dipping a cut piece in syrup. He raised it to his lips, taking a delicate bite.

“Americans really have this for breakfast?”

“Yeah…is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He grimaced. “This isn’t breakfast. This is dessert food.”

“God, your life must be so sad back home,” said Y/N. “What does your family make you eat--just straight unbuttered bread under the guise of it being a real breakfast food? Do they let you dip it in your unsweetened, weak tea if you’re good?”

He scoffed. “You have no idea how I live back at home.”

“And, judging from this conversation, I don’t have any desire to know any more.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Y/N smiled when she saw Draco reach for a second pancake.

“Two desserts? Draco, I know it’s New Year’s, but don’t get too off the hinges,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell her was fighting back a smile. “Speaking of which, how do you celebrate New Year’s?”

Draco looked up and met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“How do you celebrate tonight? With your family or your friends, or your...whatever.” The cold reality of the fact that she did not really know if he was dating someone back home set in.

“Oh, I don’t usually. It’s not really a big thing in the magical community,” he mused, unaware of her sudden panic.

“Well,” she said. “I always celebrate New Year’s with my friends. I didn’t tell you this sooner because I didn’t think that you were going to be here, but I’m kind of hosting a party here tonight. With anyone who can walk here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of his tea. “Will it be like the Halloween party at Sylvia’s?”

“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Do you mean, will there be drinking?”

He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

“There definitely can be,” she continued, her smile widening. “Last year we played this dumb drinking game over this card game--if you lost, you took a shot. It was fun. We could do that again.”

She settled down to eat, digging into two of the pancakes. They were really good--she wasn’t Gordon Ramsay by any means, but she did breakfast food pretty well. But at the mention of her friends, a realization hit her. “Oh. Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

“Um, can I tell you something?”

He dipped his head in recognition while Y/N cleared her throat.

“So, um, I forgot about this,” she began, “but while you were gone, I kind of had to scramble to figure out what to tell everyone about why we were avoiding each other before you left. And why you left so suddenly and why I didn’t know.”

He was still watching her in curious silence.

“So, I really didn’t want to slip up or say anything about...you.” Y/N paused to take a sip of her tea, deciding to not try to look at Draco again. “So I decided to tell Sylvia and Lizzy that I told you my feelings for you and you didn’t return them.”

A clang startled her enough to look up. Draco was staring, completely frozen. His fork had fallen into the syrup on his plate, handle and all.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I mean, oh, fuck. Um.” She smiled at him, hoping it was going to distract from her audible stumble. “Obviously, I made it all up. I mean, both sides! But what’s important is that they bought it, and now they’re probably going to give you a little shit for not liking me ‘back’. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Made it all up, huh?” His voice had a surprisingly teasing lilt.

“Yes, that is in fact what I said,” she responded, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt hot.

“Is it really now?”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back. I need a new fork.”

“Just wipe off the handle of the one you have now--Draco, why are you getting up? Stop!”

To her disappointment, none of her friends were able to show. Sylvia and Lizzy made a concerted effort to try and convince their family to let them brave the walk, but once another flurry started up outside, it was hopeless. Her face turned pink whenever she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even needed to tell Draco the thing that made her slip up in the first place.

Y/N, disappointed but not surprised, told Draco that she still wanted to celebrate, even if it was just with him. He’d snorted at this--asking her why she made it seem like such a burden--but once she produced a yellow glass bottle and a deck of cards and told him she bet that she was going to beat his sorry ass, he caved.

She started with a heavy lead, but once Draco learned the rules and strategies of the slightly convoluted Go Fish game, he proved to be a worthy match. They played until around 11:45 when the bottle was about 3/4 full and Y/N was feeling the pleasant warmth of being slightly intoxicated. Once she noticed the time, she threw her cards on the table.

“Let’s watch the ball drop,” Y/N said with no further explanation, even when Draco looked to her for one. She grabbed the bottle and his hand, pulling him up the stairs to her room. The remote control for her TV was a struggle to find--it was all the way tucked back in her nightstand drawer--but thankfully the channel was already set.

“You forgot the cups,” Draco said, staring down at the opened bottle held in his hand.

“You can get them if you want,” she managed.

“You should! You forgot them.”

“Too far,” she whined, flopping to lean back on her pillows while Draco followed suit. His hair smelled like peppermint. Without much more thought, she moved close enough that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t move away--instead, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink directly.

“Your New Year’s traditions are weird as fuck,” he murmured as he watched Savannah Guthrie on the screen. He didn’t have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and it seemed like he knew this.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard it all yet,” said Y/N. “We’ve got a tradition to kiss someone going into the New Year. New Year’s kiss, I guess. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of drama that creates.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You don’t have to be dating to kiss someone, sometimes people just...do it. As friends.” Y/N reached over to the bottle and took a swig herself, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.

“Take it easy,” he tutted, pulling the bottle away from her before taking another drink himself.

“Hey! Says you!”

“Because I can actually hold my liquor well,” he teased, giving her a shove.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You just kept getting worse and worse at whatever that game was,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Give it here,” she said, reaching across his chest to where he was holding the bottle, out and above his head. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much this side of him filled her with glee. “That’s not fair!”

“Not fair, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes as he held it up even further into the air. His voice was startlingly low. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Before she could muster up a response, the TV began playing the audio for the New Year’s Countdown.

10!

Y/N wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer--or if he was just...flirting?

He managed to set the bottle on her nightstand without taking his eyes off of her.

The hand she had used to reach across him with was now pressed into his side of the bed, supporting her as she hovered over him.

Without moving any part of her body, she dared to glance at his parted lips.

Maybe telling him about the kiss tradition was a stupid idea.

His hand, warm and soft, reached up to brush a piece of hair away from her cheekbone.

His fingers lingered on the outline of her jaw.

He was kissing her before the cheers from the TV even had the chance to bounce around the room, both hands cupping her face and pulling her in so desperately that it took her breath away.

Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, and then, eventually his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. They started out innocently enough--closed mouth kisses and only their hands touching each other above the shoulders--but once she tugged on his hair (mostly by accident) something...shifted.

Suddenly he was on top of her, and suddenly her leg was wrapped around him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It occurred to her that this was no longer just a New Year’s kiss. He tasted of lemon and sugar--and was notably better at what he was doing than any of the people she’d kissed before. Or maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgement. Regardless, she liked whatever was going on. His hands had drifted from her face to her neck to her hair to her shoulder, gently tracing the outline of her bra strap. She brushed her hand down his chest, pulling gently at the collar on his shirt. Only when his leg pressed up into her and her breath hitched did she realize the weight of their situation.

The way he pulled away to hover over her signaled that he’d had the same revelation, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Dread crept into her despite the pleasant haze she was in.

He swallowed, hard. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Draco was on the other side of the bed in seconds, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on her floor. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t know if he wanted her to touch him, but she wanted so badly to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Did you not want...it?”

He scoffed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “I had too much to drink. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she fell back on the bed.

That’s all it was. A drunken mistake.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she surveyed her options. Despite the fact that she was drunk off her ass, she knew she couldn’t just tell him to leave without making her feelings clear. She never explicitly told him that she wanted him and it wasn’t like she moaned his name or anything--thank god--but what other option did she have? She didn’t want to cry in front of him, and if he stayed in her room any longer he would without a doubt witness her alcohol induced cry fest.

NBC finally switched to ads, and Y/N granted herself permission to mourn the fact that Flo from Progressive would forever be ruined for her.

It was dark enough for her to quickly reach up and wipe her eyes undetected, granting her enough confidence to sit up and look at him directly. “You don’t get to just...kiss me like that. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together and rested on his nose. “Fuck. Of course I know.”

“But you can tell me you meant it to be just as friends,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t see how hard she was fighting back a new wave of tears.

“As friends,” he repeated, his tone flat.

“As friends,” she said.

“I don’t think either of us are daft enough to believe that.”

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe things are different in America, but I don’t see you doing that sort of thing with Lizzy.”

“We can forget about this. It’s fine. I know you regret it.”

He exhaled, his breath long and shaky. “I didn’t stop because I regretted it.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because…”

“Is it because I’m a muggle?” His silence was everything she needed for an answer. “Okay. I had a feeling.”

“Y/N, it’s not like...I don’t know how to explain it.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“About this!” he said, dramatically gesturing to her. “About everything!”

“I don’t understand.” The tears began pricking in the corners of her eyes again despite her best efforts.

Draco finally looked at her. She was shocked by how genuinely distressed he looked--the last time he looked at her like this, she’d been laying on the ground outside of the antique sore. “I don’t expect you to.”

His tone was low, careful. He was holding back.

“Can you just tell me how you feel about me, then? Just so I know?”

“It’s not that--” He stopped himself, sucking in another breath before he continued. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right of me.” He groaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “I meant it when I said that we could just forget about it. We’re friends, Draco. Just friends. I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s just pretend this never happened, ok?”

He was quiet for a bit before responding. “Did you...want me to kiss you? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“As in, did you want me to stop?”

“Oh.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “You didn’t violate me if you’re asking to gauge how guilty you should be.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“Okay,” she said simply. He was still laying in her bed, and she hated the fact that her bed was going to smell like him until she washed everything.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer.”

“We’re friends, Draco.” She sent him a weak smile as she repeated her previous sentiment. “I trust you, so you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

She was aware of the fact that her sentence didn’t exactly track, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with the literary quality of her speech.

“That still doesn’t answer my other question.”

“I…” She felt her throat dry up. “I want--I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a while now.”

At this, he finally sat up and looked her in the eyes. She thought she could see the briefest glint of relief pass over his face before he managed to rein it back to a neutral expression.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around, yeah?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she snipped, hoping he caught on to her mocking. She’d missed sparring with him.

“Yes, I kissed you because I wanted to, not for some weird ulterior motive,” he responded, rolling his eyes despite the fact that his cheeks were clearly very pink, even in her dimly lit room. “Though I agree it’s best if we just stayed friends.”

“Yeah.” She felt her face fall, but she managed to catch it before she looked too devastated. “It’s all water under the bridge. Now we know not to drink together again.”

“That too.” He shifted, clearing his throat before making eye contact with her again with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “But the damage is already done, I suppose?”

“I suppose,” she echoed. “You wanted to kiss me? Actually?”

“Should we really talk about this? After what we just said about staying friends?”

“We’re going to feel regret tomorrow morning no matter what we do now, “ said Y/N. “Might as well.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles--the ones where his eyes went all soft and he dipped his head to hide it. “Yes. I really do. Want to kiss you, that is.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” she blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

His smile morphed into more of a smirk as he crept closer, his hand resting on top of her knee. “So can I do it again?”

“Draco…” She sighed.

“The damage is already done,” he repeated as he reached his hand up to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers dragging down her neck. The smug look that formed on his face after she drew a quick breath in confirmed that he knew what he was doing, that fucker. “You said it yourself--we’re just friends.”

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning if I say yes.”

Draco’s hand drifted over her jaw, his thumb pausing to trace over her bottom lip. “You can hate me instead.”

This time, it didn’t surprise her so much when he leaned in. He was notably less desperate, taking time to draw breaths in between kisses and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted her chin and brushed the hair away from her neck, kissing down from her jaw to her collarbone. She shivered, and he drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her until she was sitting on his lap.

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Draco,” she managed to joke. She could feel the smirk that formed on his lips as it passed over her clavicle.

“Shut up.” His teeth grazed over her delicate skin before he sucked, eliciting a gasp from her. She could feel him smile again.

His hands teased the bottom hemline of her sweater, his fingers tangling in the fabric but not moving it. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hands ghost over her skin.

“Are you okay with…”

“Yes!” The answer came out much quicker than she would’ve liked, but the grin on Draco’s face made it completely worth the momentary embarrassment as he helped her out of the thick cable-knit sweater. “Now is your chance to dote on me and tell me how beautiful I am. As a friend, of course.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he said. He looked like he was positively glowing as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep. His hands found her back and hesitated over her bra clasp.

Before he had a chance to do anything, Y/N started fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt, successfully undoing the first two before she noticed that Draco had frozen completely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Maybe...not now, okay?”

“I had a feeling that was too much,” she admitted, reaching for her top before realizing he’d tossed it across her bedroom floor and suddenly feeling very exposed.

“It’s not that…” he said, trailing off. “I just...should probably tell you some things before my shirt comes off. And I don’t think tonight is the best time for that.”

“Oh.” Y/N tried to make herself look like she understood whatever he was on about. “Yeah, of course. Oh! Is it about that tattoo you tried to gaslight me into believing didn’t exist?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t gaslight you!”

“Here you go again,” she huffed. “I rest my case.”

“And I am not getting into that now,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk about it for very good reason.”

She reached up to his shoulders, dragging her fingertips over his collarbones and watching as he gazed up at her. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The corners of his lips turned up at this, and she took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I think we should go to sleep. We have enough material to regret for tomorrow at this point. Any more and I think we’ll be getting greedy, so--”

Draco cut her off with one last kiss, his fingers splayed out across her back, pulling her impossibly close before finally releasing her.

“Agreed.” He let out a sigh before sliding her off him and standing up to grab her runaway sweater. “Do you want to sleep in this? Or do you want me to get you something else from your dresser while I’m up?”

“Um…” She was frozen at the prospect of him watching her change clothes. “Probably something else. Top left drawer--just pick whatever.”

He sifted through her piles of random T-shirts before settling on one with the UChicago logo and tossing it to her.

Y/N pulled it over her head, grateful for the fact that he wasn’t staring at her with only a black lace bra that barely did its job.

“So, uh, I think I should probably go then,” he said.

She fought the urge to ask him to stay. “Yeah, that’d be best.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he closed it and frowned. “So I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to agonizing over this in the morning.”

Once the sounds of his footsteps heading down the hall faded, she finally allowed herself to flop back onto her now Draco-scented sheets.

What the fuck just happened.

final a/n: hellooooooo ! it finally happened! i hope this didn’t seem rushed or unnatural to you guys but like. it’s been over 30k words and i thought you guys deserved something. yes i am going to be leaning into the whole “we’re just friends” trope while definitely not being just friends. yes i am going to drag astoria into this i’m excited i hope yall enjoyed

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy #draco fic #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

and bc i have no self control. #41 kisses to shut them up for rhodeytony

So this one spiraled so quickly, because I also have no self control! And now it’s a 3.4k words of 5+1 for Rhodey and Tony’s first kisses together. Hope you like it :)

The first time is something of a joke. Tony is doing that rambling thing like always, hands moving around rapidly and coming dangerously close to smacking passersby in the face. He gets more than a few dirty looks for it, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing. Rhodey isn’t even sure what he’s ranting about anymore. Maybe one of his professors, or that annoying guy in his physics class. All he does know is that he wants to get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza and Tony walks slow when he’s talking. So Rhodey grabs him by the wrist when his hand flies in front of him again, spinning him around and planting his lips firmly against Tony’s for just a moment. It does the job of stunning him into silence, but it also makes him freeze completely on the sidewalk. Rhodey keeps walking, and Tony has to run to catch back up.

“What was that for?” Tony asks, eyes wide.

Rhodey shrugs, “Had to shut you up somehow.”

Tony makes an offended squawking sound, hitting Rhodey with the too long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Rhodey’s sweatshirt, technically.

“That’s rude,” Tony says. “You’re getting me ice cream to make it up to me.”

Rhodey laughs, slinging his arm over Tony’s shoulders to pull him along. “Whatever you want, Tones.”

______________

If the first was a joke, the second is just the repeat performance. Between Rhodey’s basic training and Tony’s recent and sudden rise to CEO, it’s been almost three months since the last time they’ve seen each other. Basic has him questioning everything and feeling like a bit of failure. He should have been able to handle it better. The homesickness, the pressure, the constant grind of work. It’s been the dream for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he has now.

“Maybe I should quit.”

Tony snorts inelegantly, “Pretty sure that’s called deserting and it’s a crime.”

“So I’ll go on the run,” Rhodey argues, like it’s a perfectly reasonable response. “I’ll move to Tahiti or Fiji or one of those other islands. Wait, you have a private island, right? I could go there, and if anyone comes for me, I’ll just take a rowboat out to sea, and they won’t have any jurisdiction on the water to arrest me. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Right? It’s -”

Tony’s lips are a little sticky from the beer he’s been drinking, and his hands are warm where they cup Rhodey’s cheeks. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or why, and at first he can’t think enough to react. When he can think again he can’t decide whether to push him off or kiss him back, and he still hasn’t reached a conclusion when Tony pulls away. He doesn’t know if it lasted two seconds or two minutes, and it’s confusing to realize that he isn’t sure which he would prefer.

“Wow, that is effective,” Tony grins. “Thought maybe it was just me it works on, but I should try that on board members sometime if it’s that good.”

Rhodey gapes at him when he connects the pieces. “Seriously, Tony? That happened two years ago, and I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”

"No, you were spiralling and now you’re not," Tony says simply. "Situation resolved by not talking about it."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is. How do you think most fires get put out? By putting a lid on them until they die."

"Alright, ignoring that that's not even true, what the hell does it even mean?"

"It's very true, and what it means is that I have put a lid on this irrational fire, so it doesn't have the chance to spread and ignite the rest of your life. Containment, honeybear. It's about containment."

"That's a terrible analogy," Rhodey says, and Tony tosses his hands in the air.

"What do you want from me on the spot?"

They spend most of the night trying to come up with something better, laughing and drinking the rest of the beer in Tony's fridge, until Rhodey forgets that he was ever stressed in the first place.

______________

Their third kiss is an accident. It happens somewhere in between Rhodey deciding that he hates Tony's new boyfriend and him realizing exactly why that is.

He comes back from six months overseas, and it's a few days ahead of what he was expecting. He told Tony Thursday, but his plane touches down in California on Tuesday morning, and he gives the taxi driver Tony's address without a second thought. Tony likes surprises, and he has no reason to think this might be a bad one.

He uses his key to let himself in, fully knowing that Tony won't be awake yet to answer the door. The first traces of sun are just starting to filter in through the windows, and Rhodey sets his duffle bag down near the door before moving into the kitchen. Tony's refrigerator is nearly barren, but there are a few eggs and a green pepper that would be rotten by tomorrow that he can make due with. He finds an onion, too, and falls into a rhythm while dicing vegetables.

It's this kind of thing that he misses when he's away. He misses having a kitchen and making what he wants in it, even if this isn't his kitchen or his first choice of food. But he misses the simplicity of it all. Life on the base seems alternate between too fast and too slow, but this is all his own pace.

He hears footsteps on the stairs a little after the eggs hit the pan, and he glances over his shoulder to watch Tony shuffle into the room while rubbing his tired eyes. If he had stayed turned around a little longer, their third kiss wouldn't have happened at all. By the time Tony opens his eyes, Rhodey's back is to him again.

Instead of instantly reacting, Tony slowly wanders over and puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. The words are mumbled when he says, "You're up way too early," and Rhodey doesn't have time to process how strange the sentence is, because he's being kissed the second his head turns. Not the shut up kind of kiss or even that sort of friendly peck he's seen people do sometimes. It's the kind where Tony's tongue is slipping between his lips, and his hand is wandering lower. The kind that friends don't share, but lovers definitely do.

Rhodey falls into it without question.

The spatula clatters to the floor from his hand, and Tony laughs into the kiss before pulling back. There's a grin and a joke on his lips that's quickly replaced by dawning horror.

"Rhodey?" Tony squeaks out. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and through it Rhodey hears, "Oh, shit." He looks down at the complete lack of space between their bodies, dropping the hand to raise them both in front of himself like a defense as he backs away a couple of steps. "Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought - you weren't supposed to be here yet. Thursday. That's - you said Thursday. Didn't you?"

It's like ice water with how quickly the warmth of that kiss leaves his body.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and plays at unaffected. "I did, yeah. Seems like you should attack an intruder instead of kissing them, though."

Tony's cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red, and he runs a still shaky hand through his hair.

"I thought you were someone else," he sheepishly admits. "It's just that from behind you, um, well you look a lot like Ryan, and he wasn't in bed still when I got up, so I came down here, and, uh, I guess you know the rest of that story."

Ryan, Rhodey's mind bitterly repeats. The guy Tony's spent the last three months talking about on the phone and in his letters. It's always about him in some way. He told me the funniest story yesterday, Rhodey or Isn't he so romantic, platypus? But Tony seems happy, so he fakes a laugh at a story that definitely isn't funny retold and agrees that string quartets are romantic instead of horribly cliché. He helps him plan dates when it's Tony's turn, because apparently that's yet another adorable thing they do together.

He just barely suppresses the sigh before saying, "Don't worry about it, Tones. It's all good."

Tony looks relieved, and after an awkward minute or two they fall back into their normal conversation like it never happened. They talk about the missions Rhodey has flown for and the designs Tony has been working on between bites of burned eggs and coffee.

Neither of them ever mention that Rhodey kissed him back.

______________

Tony and Rhodey are both drunk for the fourth. The music is loud at the club, and the air is a smoky haze. It's someone's birthday, he thinks, but he can't really remember anymore by the fifth shot of tequila.

He leans back against the bar on his elbows, watching in drunken amusement while Tony tries to put the moves on someone to hold up his end of the bet. The guy looks like he isn’t quite sure what’s happening, and Rhodey laughs into the rim of his glass. All he needs is one kiss, and Rhodey will be out the contents of his wallet. He isn't even sure what those contents are, and Tony wouldn't let him check before the handshake. It could be anywhere from a nickel to fifty bucks, he figures, which is worth it to watch this complete trainwreck.

It takes another ten minutes of flirting before Tony finally gives up and comes back over to the bar.

“Loser,” Rhodey teases. “What happened to having ‘game so good a straight man would fall to his knees?’”

Tony flips him off and steals the glass from his hand. “He has a girlfriend, which is the only reason it didn’t happen.”

“He didn’t even realize that you were flirting with him, did he?” Rhodey laughs, and Tony pouts pitifully.

“The no touching rule wasn’t fair.”

“A good bet doesn’t involve actual harassment,” Rhodey reasons, just like he did earlier in the night. “If you can’t get them to kiss you by flirting with just words, they wouldn’t want you touching them in the first place. It’s called consent.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I do not need to be taught about consent. I am the king of consent. Enthusiastic, resounding consent, even.” He pauses, and there’s a dangerous look in his eyes when he narrows them at Rhodey. “Okay, I know that this about to go against everything I just said, but it’s you, and we don’t have rules, right?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Tony leans in with enough time that if Rhodey really wanted to, he could pull away. He could put his hand over Tony’s mouth or step to the side or simply tell him no and Tony wouldn’t do it.

But he doesn’t do any of those things.

He lets Tony cup the back of his neck to tilt his head to the right angle, and he threads his hand into Tony’s hair in return. His lips taste like the vodka and cranberry juice from the stolen glass, until Rhodey has kissed him so thoroughly that he can’t taste it anymore.

“There,” Tony says, grinning proudly like he’s just done something exceptionally smart. His breath is coming quickly, and Rhodey’s head is spinning with the thought that he’s the one that did that to him. “I got a straight man to kiss me. Pay up.”

Rhodey laughs, full-bodied with his head tilted back. “No, man. You definitely didn’t.”

Tony’s still a little too drunk to fully understand what he means by that, and he takes it as if Rhodey’s saying that he stole the kiss, rather than earned it. He spends most of the night after that trying to get him to kiss him again on his own accord, but Rhodey doesn’t want another one like that. He wants Tony’s soft-eyed gaze on him, and his body held tight in his arms. He wants to hear him say the same words he’s saying right now, but to have him actually mean it when he says the word please. Like he won’t be able to live for another second without Rhodey’s lips on his.

He doesn’t want the joke anymore, but he knows he won’t ever get to have the real thing.

______________

Rhodey is half asleep for kiss number five, and he isn’t even quite sure that it actually happens. He’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Germany, he thinks, and machines are beeping all around him. He can’t really remember what brought him here as he drifts in and out. There was some kind of fight - that much is obvious. He sees flashes of bullets in the sky, flames, and a rapidly plummeting altitude reading. Was it a mission gone wrong? An attack they weren’t expecting? One of the machines ticks a little faster when he tries to clear his head enough to think about it, and then darkness takes over again.

When he partially wakes the next time, there’s something warm and solid in his hand. It shifts a little, brushing lightly in circles over his skin, and it takes him a longer amount of time than it should to realize that it’s another hand. But when he does, he knows without a doubt who it belongs to, and the thought sends him back into sleep with a warm feeling in his chest.

He finds out later that he was unconscious for three days, and Tony hardly leaves his side for a minute of it. Rhodey doesn’t want to say how that makes him feel, so he falls back on what he does know how to say.

“You should really at least go back to the hotel to take a shower. You’re starting to smell, man,” he says after the doctor leaves the room.

Tony gives him a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the oily texture. "Maybe in a little bit. You just woke up."

Rhodey shifts against the pillows, tilting his head to get a good look at him. His clothes might be the same ones he showed up here in, all wrinkled with a coffee stain on one of his sleeves. The circles under his eyes are darker than he's ever quite seen them before, and he looks too pale.

Tony isn't supposed to look like that.

He's supposed to be sunlight embodied, all tanned skin and bright eyes and fluid motion. But this Tony is slumped over in his chair, small and fragile looking like the wrong word could destroy him completely. This Tony offers him a brave face and a delicate smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and Rhodey can't stand it. Can't stand that it's his own fault he looks like that.

Stretching his arm out, he turns over his hand to open his palm. The movement tugs at his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth to hide the pain and it's worth it to have Tony's hand back in his where it belongs. He squeezes gently, and Tony squeezes back.

"You almost died," Tony whispers. "You're not allowed to die."

"I won't do it again," Rhodey says, even though they both know he can't make that promise.

Tony nods, and for now that can be enough. He switches the topic to something else so they don't have to talk about it anymore. So Tony doesn't have to say what the last three days felt like, and Rhodey doesn't have to admit that his last thought before the plane went down was regret that he'd never get to have this again.

Tony makes him laugh until his battered ribs are aching with it, until they've talked about everything and nothing and sleep is pulling at Rhodey again. It's hard to keep his eyes open, and he fights it until he can't any longer.

A hand runs over his hair, and down the side of his face to linger on his cheek. Rhodey leans into the touch with closed eyes as Tony murmurs, "I'll come back tomorrow. Don't you dare do anything stupid like dying while I'm gone."

He feels the warmth of Tony's breath on his skin the moment before Tony kisses him. It's a barely there, wisp of a thing, right on the corner of his mouth. There one instant, then gone the next. It's the last thing he feels before slipping into sleep again.

______________

“I’m so old,” Tony groans, flopping down on the beach chair next to Rhodey’s. “Ancient. Decrepit. On death’s door.”

“You’re thirty,” Rhodey says, and he laughs at the pout on Tony’s face. “I’m a year older than you. What does that make me then?”

“A senior citizen, just like me.”

Rhodey lifts his beer from where the bottle was balancing in the sand and clinks it with the bottle in Tony’s hand. “Welcome to the club then. We’re happy to have you.”

Tony kicks off his shoes and tucks his feet under his thighs as he settles back in the chair. It’s quiet out here on the beach, away from the crowds and noise from the party. The crashing of the waves and the distant thrum of music are the only sounds, and they watch the water in the still of the night for a while.

“Don’t you want to get back to the party?” Rhodey asks softly, unwilling to break their bubble of peace. “It’s for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “I like it better out here.”

“Want me to kick everyone out for you?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the house, filled to the brim and lights flashing from every window. He leans over the inch between their chairs and rests his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “No, they can have their fun in there, and I can have mine here.”

Rhodey cards his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling warm despite the cool breeze. “This is fun for you, huh? Sitting in silence?”

“It’s always good with you,” Tony murmurs, so quiet that Rhodey almost loses it to the ocean. He’ll always be thankful that he didn’t.

He lets his hand go lower, slipping from his hair to run his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and it would be so easy, he thinks, to kiss him right now. To tilt Tony’s chin up and turn his head to the side just a little. To brush their lips together, slowly at first, then steadily growing more desperate as he gives in to everything he’s wanted for so long. He thinks of the way Tony would sound, if he would sigh or moan or whimper under his mouth. Tony would be sticky sweet from the buttercream on the cupcakes from earlier, and Rhodey would taste sugar on his tongue.

“Rhodey,” Tony whispers, looking up at him. The moon is reflected in the deep brown of his eyes, and Rhodey wants to keep this image of him in him in his mind forever. “Can I tell you what I wished for?”

“Won’t come true if you do,” Rhodey whispers back.

“I think it’s the only way it might,” Tony answers, and he seems even closer than he was before.

“What did you wish for?”

Tony’s cheeks are flushed, and Rhodey thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose his nerve to say whatever it is. He’s ready for the joke instead, but it never comes.

“For you to kiss me,” Tony says with an unsteady breath. “For it to mean something when you do.”

Rhodey slides his hand a little higher, and he strokes across Tony’s cheekbone. He doesn’t miss the way that Tony’s eyes flicker down to his lips. “And what do you want it to mean?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” Rhodey repeats, and Tony smiles, soft and unsure. “I think I can manage that.”

______________

Years later, Tony still likes to tease Rhodey about their first kiss, except now it's become their thing. The interrupted sentences sometimes get finished after and sometimes don't because kissing Tony is more important than whatever it was that he had to say in the first place.

He loses count of what number they’re on. One thousand or one million, it could never be enough. They have all kinds of kisses now. Early morning, sleep-hazed kisses, and quick, little pecks on the way out the door. Good night kisses that turn passionate and desperate as often as they stay innocent and sweet. Reluctant ones when Tony is mad at him for something silly, lingering ones in apology.

Each one still means everything.

#rhodeytony #ironhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompt fill #warmachinesocks

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

The Wanton Song

Summary: How do you broach the topic of sex with the 90-something super soldier you've found yourself dating? That's the reader's question. Luckily, she and Bucky are no strangers to awkward conversations...

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions and understands all languages)

Warnings: SMUT, tiny bit of angst, lotsa fluff, maybe some past dub!con if you squint

Author's note: Wow... here I am posting smut on the internet. Never thought that would happen. Tmi, but I'm married, so I have a good amount of sex 🙀 and I actually had a great first time, but some people don't, and that's what I tried to represent. That, and CONSENT!!!! Consent is sexy, y'all. Safe, sane and consensual all day every day.

As always, the reader's name isn't stated so that you can read as a self insert, but I've written so much at this point that I refer to the Reader as Violet in my own mind.

*************************************************

Life has been going swimmingly these past few months. Better than ever before in fact, or at the very least, better than in a long time. She’s still a fugitive, living life looking over her shoulder, but now she has a steady job, a steady paycheck, and oh yeah, a steady boyfriend. Those three things have never aligned for her before (especially the last one). Overall, she’s pretty happy. But, because she’s her, there’s still a question niggling at the back of her mind.

The transition from “you’re my only friend” to “we’re together now” went smoothly, helped in part by the fact that Barnes had been at that particular juncture the whole time. From the outside looking in, the only major changes have been the addition of those three simple but very key words and an upping the anti in the cuddles department.

Speaking of cuddles, that’s a very mild term for what’s going on these days. It starts out innocent enough. The usual location is on the couch at one or the other’s apartment. There hadn’t been much distance between them since that first time where they ended up talking more than watching the movie playing from her laptop, but now, the space is nonexistent. As a general rule, within the first ten minutes, her legs somehow end up over his lap or in some way intertwined with is. The intention is always to pay attention to what’s on the screen but, well, when you’re that close, it would be rude not to snuggle up. And, when the other person looks that damn kissable, it would truly be insulting not to take the plunge.

Now, considering the angle, one of them has to lean in. Otherwise, it would be awkward. That generally determines who, somewhere from two to ten minutes later, is on top of who. Of course hands wander, and even though it’s understood that the word “no” can be employed at any time and immediately obeyed (not to mention the copious amounts of “Is this okay”’s being asked), she can’t remember a time either of them have said it.

If she had to attach a term to what comes next, it would be ‘dry humping.’ And then… nothing. It always ends far too soon, leaving her flustered and with her heart racing. At first she thought it was because he simply didn’t want her, but, well, there’s certain physical signs that point to that not being the problem. Her next guess was that he’s simply being respectful. Well, as sweet as that is, she’s ready to get on with it. She’s only human after all, and as such, has needs. Sure, she could take care of them herself, but if she had to guess, he’s experiencing those needs too, and from what she’s heard, it’s more fun to take care of it together.

The only issue: how the hell do you bring something like this up, especially when the person you’re bringing it up with grew up in a much more repressed era than you did? She’s been debating it for the past week, and despite having multiple visions, none of them have given her that key insight into what to do.

Finally, she decides to just say it. They’ve made a point to be honest with each other, and it’s probably best to get it out of the way. They’re adults, after all. They can have this discussion. She’s going to come straight out with it.

“Hey, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal, and maybe a little uncomfortable.”

“Sure, Doll.” The response is immediate. “Fire away.”

Glancing up to make sure they’re not at a pivotal scene in tonight’s movie (they have a system; at his place, watch something he grew up with, at hers, something made literally anytime after 1945), she spits out the whole sentence in one breathless go. “Are we ever going to have sex?”

It feels like a branding iron where his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder. Still, it’s comforting. At least he’s not moving away.

“I gotta admit, that’s not the question I was expecting. What brought this on?”

She shrugs, carefully keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind his head instead of on him.

“Nothing in particular. Just…” is there a delicate way to put this? “...I think things are going well between us, and sometimes when we’re together… I’ve noticed that there’s a physical response.” She’s really hoping that’ll suffice, because she can’t think of a good way to say “I can feel that you’re hard when you’re on top of me”.

“Oh.”

Apparently, her meaning is indeed clear enough, because he removes his arm from her shoulders. She’s about to apologize (all the while mentally berating herself) when his hand closes over hers.

“I’m sorry about that, Doll. I’ll try to stay calmer.” Wait, that’s not- “It’s just an issue guys have. Don’t think it means you have to do anything that you don’t want to, because I would never-”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Without thinking, she cuts him off. “And I want to.” It feels like she’s sitting in a sauna, she’s so flustered from this conversation. “But only if you do, and I understand if you didn’t-”

“No.” It’s abrupt, cutting her off. A definite answer that leaves no room for questioning. “No, I do. I just-” He clears his throat. “-I didn’t want to bring it up, in case we weren’t on the same page. “ This seems to be a recurring theme, so far. “And it’s not a must. If you change your mind-”

It’s pure instinct. There’s no thought involved as she closes the gap between them, this time with her on top, and presses her lips against his. The response is immediate and enthusiastic. She considers just going on, not putting a stop to things, but realization hits that, although overall she’s ready for this to happen, she’s not ready for it to happen tonight. There’s still things she needs to take care of. Most importantly, protection.

So, gasping for breath, she pulls away. “I’m calling for a rain check, but if after that, you still think I’ll change my mind-” she pushes back her hair and forces herself to take a deep breath. “-then you may just be beyond help, Barnes.” If the chuckle is anything to judge from, she’s made her point.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Wow. Bucky thinks to himself as he exits out of the browser tab on his phone. That’s enough internet for one day. Too much, actually. He knows that it’s the information superhighway, but good god, no one needs THAT much information. He really needs to be more specific with what he googles… or less… or just not at all.

He’d never admit it (and really, who the hell is gonna ask him anyway), but he spent the last hour looking up how to have sex. He’s engaged in the act before, yeah, but it was seventy years ago. Plus, it used to be this huge taboo thing that you suspected was going on behind closed doors, but no one (not even the married couples) owned up to it. If you were ever found out, there were severe consequences. As a man, he didn’t have to worry as much, but if whoever the woman was had her dirty laundry aired… oh boy. She’d be a pariah, a “scarlet woman”, unfit for marriage or to even give the time of day. That led to limited encounters, and, well, it just seemed smart to brush up on what information is out there. As it turns out, people have written a lot about the fine art of love making. Unfortunately for him, most of it is absolute garbage. Some of the positions he just read about (because at that point, the article was like a train wreck; he badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t) don’t even sound possible, much less pleasurable. He’s all for society being freer, but good grief!

He’s halfway through a bottle of straight vodka (it won’t have any effect, but he’s hoping maybe the alcohol will travel to his brain and sanitize his eyeballs from most of the shit he just read) when his phone rings. Great. He’s always happy to talk to her, but right now… wow. It’s gonna take him some time to recover, so he hopes she doesn’t need him to say much.

“Hey, Doll.”

“I am so fucking pissed off right now.” That sounds promising.

“At what?”

“The city of Bucharest, my apartment, the landlord, whoever the fuck did the plumbing in this building! God!” She’s clearly out of breath, so it takes a minute before she can speak again. “I’m sorry, Buck. It’s just that I came home from work, and one of my neighbors told me the entire sixth floor is under a good inch, inch and a half of water.” Wait-

“How-”

“I don’t know. Busted pipe. It’s leaked down onto the fifth floor, so I’ve got about fifty other pissed off people for company.”

“Jesus.”

She chuckles harshly. “Yeah, we could use him right about now to perform a miracle. This is a shit show, and I haven’t even told you the best part.”

“So the spontaneous flood wasn’t the highlight of your day?”

“I fucking wish! So, naturally, I tried to call the landlord, along with basically everyone else. Get this: since it’s after five o’clock on a Friday, he’s not gonna do anything. Told us collectively to suck it up! And of course, when there’s a leak, they have to cut the power…” He’s starting to see a pattern here.

She sighs. “I really needed to get that off my chest. How are you?” Still slightly weirded out by the information overload, but feeling a little more steady now that he’s got a good catastrophe to concentrate on. However, that’s probably not the best answer to go with.

“Better than you are.”

“What, the sky isn’t falling where you are?” He chuckles.

“No, it’s right where it’s supposed to be.” Which reminds him… “But since it seems like you’re short a functional home, why don’t you just stay here until they sort things out?” He’s got a couch that, while it doesn’t have anything on an actual bed, he can manage to sleep on for the next few nights. Or maybe they can share his bed. He shakes his head. That thought needs to be put to the side, even if it’s meant in the most innocent way possible. Of course, in case she decides to cash in that rain check…

“Yes. I mean, that would be great, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Actually, he can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. The plan was to meet up either Saturday or Sunday, possibly both, so this isn’t that far out of the ordinary.

“Okay, but just a warning: They’re not letting us go up to our floor in case there’s been electrical damage as well-” That’s smart. If the pipes are in that bad of condition, who knows what the wiring looks like. “-so all I have is my purse, backpack, and what I wore to work. No toothbrush or pajamas, or anything like that.”

“That’s alright. All you have to bring is yourself.” He’ll have to look, but he’s pretty sure he has something in his closet that’ll work okay for her until she gets the all clear to go into her apartment. Plus, there’s a laundry mat just around the corner, not to mention a pharmacy.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” He glances at his bedside clock. Five thirty-four. It takes roughly half an hour to get across the city by bus, so… “I’ll see you around six fifteen?”

“See you then.”

As soon as the line goes dead, he springs into action. First thing’s first: make sure there’s no dirty clothes, old dishes, or trash laying around. That takes all of five minutes. He should probably check that he does indeed have something she can wear so they won’t have to fumble around later. Tshirts are pretty universal and… yes, he has a few pajama bottoms that have a drawstring waist. How much time does he have left? The phone screen lights up, giving him his answer. Twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time to run around the corner and pick up a few things.

His intention is to buy the basics: spare toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, maybe a different shampoo than his three-in-one body wash (it’s convenient for him, but she might prefer something designated for hair specifically). But, well, there’s quite a few aisles, and he gets sucked in. Does he need to buy razors, or is that rude, like he thinks she’s hairy? What about aspirin? How often do most people get headaches? He honestly can’t remember.

By the time he realizes that he really needs to get a move on, his basket is full and he has no idea what aisle he’s on. Desperately, he looks around, and his eyes land on… huh. So they just have them out in the open these days. Last time he was in the market for that, he had to beg a married friend to make the purchase for him. He briefly wonders if he’ll need to produce proof of marriage or something similar, but pushes the thought to the side. It’s the 2000s. He can probably just go up to the register and pay, and no one will give him a second look. But there’s just one problem: which brand? He should google… suddenly remembering his adventure from earlier today, he decides to just go with his gut and pick one. There. Now, he needs to pay and get the fuck out of here because there’s only ten minutes left, and he’d rather not have these out in the open, in case she thinks that’s the reason he’s asked her to stay over. If it happens, great. If not… well, he’s made it for the past seventy years. What’s a few more?

___________________________________________________________________________________

She was still pretty shaken up when she arrived at his apartment, carrying her backpack and purse, slightly damp from the drizzle of rain now covering the city. But immediately receiving a long hug, being instructed to make herself at home, and hearing the offer to take a shower so she could warm up did a lot to restore her good mood.

It was one of the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced in a lifetime where most people have showed her their worst, going into that bathroom and finding a new toothbrush, stick of deodorant, nail clippers, hairbrush, and even shampoo. That and Barnes bashfully informing her that, “I’ll stay in the living room until you’re done. Take your time.” She almost suggested that he just join her in an attempt to broach the subject they left off on two nights ago, but thought better of it. She’s just started to strip when a knock comes from the other side of the wall.

“Sorry. I just remembered that I forgot to give you a change of clothes. Can I leave them outside the door?” A smile forms on her face.

“Sure. Go ahead.” No one’s given this much thought to her comfort or boundaries before. Yet another reason she knows this is the right decision.

She doesn’t stay in the shower for long, just enough time to wash and stop shivering. After toweling off and brushing out her hair, she cracks open the door. Sure enough, a worn but clean tshirt and pair of pajama bottoms are waiting for her. The familiar scent of the laundry detergent he uses envelopes her as she dresses and, at long last, leaves the safety of the bathroom.

True to his word, he’s still sitting on the couch, thumbing through a book she gave him some months back (he’s missed so many feats of literature that have made their way into pop culture; today’s choice is The Hobbit because, while it was out before everything happened to him, he’s never read it) when she emerges. Just in case he’s so absorbed that he hasn’t heard her, she repeats his gesture from earlier and knocks softly on the wall.

“Hey. I’m out. You can have your apartment back.”

“Hey.” That smile always makes her feel slightly unsteady on her feet. “Find everything okay?”

“I did.” She settles into the place next to him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to go out and get supplies.”

“I know.” He nods, hand closing around hers. “But I wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed.”

They chat for a while about their days, discuss what they should do with the weekend ahead, even throw out ideas for dinner. The entire time, she’s trying to figure out the best way to bring up that she’d really like to finish what they started the other night. However, by the time he’s left to grab some sort of takeout, she’s still no closer to an answer.

Fortunately, their dates usually follow a pattern. Food, a movie, and then the not-so-innocent cuddles. This time, he’s on top of her when she feels the tell-tale sign that he’s as fired up as she is, so she suggests,

“Do want to maybe move to somewhere more comfortable?” His already dilated pupils grow even larger, and he nods.

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” She waits for him to roll off of her and head towards the bedroom before she grabs her purse and, digging around inside, grabs one of the foil packages she bought after their last date.

It’s only once she closes the door behind her, shutting them into an enclosed space with a bed (not to mention it’s pretty damn clear what both of their intentions are), that nerves get the better of her. He takes a step towards her, and she leans up to kiss him, but he ducks his head out of the way.

“You’re shaking.” His hand ghosts over her arm, making it obvious that, by comparison, she’s practically vibrating on the spot.

“Sorry.” She chuckles nervously. “It’ll pass.”

“It’s alright.” As he says it, he meets her eyes. “We can stop. Nothing has to happen.”

“I know.” She nods, swallowing hard. “But I want it to.” Their lips briefly meet before he pulls away again.

“Let me ask you, just before we get started, is this-” He stops short, eyes darting from her face to the wall and back again. “...have you… before?” Oh. “Not that it matters, not to me, I just wanted to know so that-”

“I have.” She nods, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Once. I was eighteen, and-” It was awful. She’d been seeing the guy for a few months and he kept whining about her not putting out, so she decided to get it over with. He went in dry without any warning, and when she asked him to stop, give her a second to adjust, he told her he couldn’t. She was bleeding and in pain for days afterwards, and to top it off, when her period was late, she thought that, even though he’d pulled out, she was pregnant. That turned out not to be the case, but it, along with the fact that she usually doesn’t stay in one place for very long, has put a damper on her ever wanting to do that again. Except for now. “-it wasn’t a great experience.”

“I’m sorry.” On instinct, she searches for the judgment in his face, the disgust. It’s nowhere to be found, only genuine sympathy. “I’ll do my best to make sure this time is better. That is, if you’re still up to it.”

“I am.” Not waiting for a reply, she wraps her arms around him and starts trailing kisses up his neck towards his ear. “I am. I trust you.” She hears his breath catch, but before she can comment, he’s hoisted her up and is carrying her in the direction of the bed.

As he sets her down, she pulls him on top of her, letting her hands wander over his sides, up his back. After a few moments, she feels his fingers move from her hips to toy with the hem of her… his.. shirt.

“Is this okay? Can I take this off?” She starts to nod, but remembers just in time that he’s so close, they’d butt heads.

“Please.” She expected to feel exposed once she was at least partially undressed, but instead she feels… adored. His eyes are roaming over her newly exposed skin, though his hands have respectfully returned to her waist. In a moment of confidence, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. There. Now she’s completely shirtless.

“You’re so beautiful.” The flush from her cheeks is spreading down her neck, but she still smiles.

“Care to make things even?” It’s brief, but she catches the look of hesitation.

“Sure.” Before she can offer to do it, he shrugs his shirt over his head, revealing to her, for the first time, the entirity of his metal arm. She must look for a moment too long, because with a shrug, he informs her, “I can put my shirt back on. No big deal. I know there’s some scarring…” That’s not going to fly. She needs to reassure him, make him feel as desired as he’s made her feel.

“Or if you want to stop-” She stands and, after briefly making eye contact, places a kiss on the most prominent scar.

“Don’t you dare think that way for a second.” They’re flush against each other, chest to bare chest. “Not for one.” Slowly, she slides her hands from his shoulders down to his waist, hesitating just over the button. “Is this okay?” Another shakey breath.

“Yes.”

Going forward, it’s much less awkward. The rest of their clothing is shed, and soon they’re back to their previous position; on the bed, with him on top of her. She feels his fingertips brush the inside of her thigh and gasps.

“May I touch you?” She nods.

“You’d better.”

It’s gentle, more of him feeling her out than anything else. Still, she can’t help but think this is infinitely better already than last time around. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and it takes all her effort not to whine at the loss of contact. Before she can ask if something’s wrong, does he want to stop, he’s flat on his stomach, head between her legs.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“What-” Her breath catches as it becomes infinitely clear what he’s doing.

Again, she’s expecting pain when, after several minutes he eases a finger into her, but at this point, she’s so wet that there’s absolutely no difficulty.

“Are you okay?” She nods.

“Don’t stop.”

The process is agonizingly slow, he’s so intent on his task. When, finally, he pulls away, she’s so close that she can almost taste it.

“Do you still want to-”

“If you don’t stop asking me that, I’m gonna slap you.” It’s a joke, and she thinks he knows it, but just to be sure, she siezes his hand (the metal one, which is usually cold but has now warmed from being held close against her body. “I’m ready, so long as you want this too.”

“I do. You wouldn’t believe how much.” Yeah, she thinks she would. “Just give me a second.” Perfect timing. He rolls off of her, which gives her the opening she needs to grab the packet she managed to hide under the pillow while he was… otherwise distracted. When he returns from digging inside the wardrobe, she holds it up, only to realize-

“Oh.” He’s got one as well. “Seems like we both came prepared.”

He chuckles. “Just in case, although that wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

“I know.” She nods and pats the space next to her. “Not why I said yes either, although I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

He returns to the bed and drops his packet onto the nightstand. “Save this one for later?”

“Definitely.”

There is a bit of discomfort once he starts to push inside her, but it’s not painful. Just… overwhelming. Slightly embarassed she asks,

“Can you wait a second? Please?”

“Of course. Are you alright?” She shifts her hips slightly, making them both groan.

“Fine. You can move now.”

She may have only done this once before, and she has no idea what his experience consists of, but as she hits her peak mere seconds before he does, gently coaxed over the edge, she can’t help but think some things are better the second time around.

“I love you.” It’s whispered against her neck as, once she cleans up and returns to bed, she settles herself against him.

“I love you too.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing he thinks when he realizes that he’s not alone in bed is that HYDRA’s found him. He’s being activated. His eyes shoot open although apart from that he doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s when he recognizes the person next to him. It’s her. She’s here.

The events of last night come back to him all at once, and he feels a smile forming on his face. It’s been a while, and in any case, it would be wrong to run a comparison, but what they shared, the pure intimacy of it both physically and mentally was incredible. Maybe he should feel a sense of shame. That’s what he was taught growing up. But instead he feels… peaceful.

That is, until her eyelids flutter and she rolls over, shifting the covers so that he gets a good view of her still naked body, and with it, the bruises on her thighs and hips. Bruises unmistakably left by his fingers. Dammit. He’s done the last thing he ever wanted to do: he’s hurt her.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She yawns, the teasing words muffled. “It seems like we overslept.”

His mouth goes dry, and all he can manage to choke out is a simple, “Yeah.”

She frowns, sitting up slightly, and lets out a small groan. “You alright there, Bucky? You look a little off.” The late morning light only serves to highlight more marks he’s left, this time on her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Stubble burn. Hickeys. Why the hell was he so rough? At the time, he thought he was being gentle, but obviously he’s just as much of a monster as Bucky Barnes as he is once the Winter Soldier takes over.

She’s still staring at him, brow furrowing in concern.

“Fine.” He clears his throat and begins to sit up. “Stay here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, maybe some oatmeal.”

“Alright. Don’t be gone too long.”

Her words follow him out of the room, and into the kitchen. Fuck. He should’ve known better.

Maybe once upon a time, he was a decent man, one who could be with a woman like her and not do her a disservice. But now, it’s clear that he falls short in every way. In an act that was supposed to be pure pleasure, a way of communicating how much they mean to each other, he’s hurt her.

“I trust you.” The words from last night ring in his ears. He shouldn’t have let her. It’s pretty damn obvious that, even at the best of times, he can’t be trusted.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Even with his enhanced senses, he still jumps in surprise as the unexpected words come from behind him. He turns around slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s standing there, clad in only one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest (now bearing his marks), staring him down.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head.

“Bullshit. I had a vision of you staring off into space, and here you are, jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” At another time, her choice in phrases would make him chuckle, but right now, he can’t muster it.

“Last night-” Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. “I hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t. Not at all.”

“I did.”

She frowns. “Bucky, I think I’d know if you’d hurt me, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

“Doll, look at yourself!” He reaches out to take her arm, but immediately freezes. “Go in the bathroom and take off your shirt. Take a good look in the mirror and then tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Alright.” Her jaw clenches, and she marches off in the direction of the bathroom. A deep sickness gnaws at the pit of his stomach and, completely worn out, he sinks into a kitchen chair.

Not thirty seconds pass before she walks back into the room, this time completely undressed.

“Tell me you’re not talking about a few love bites.”

“And bruises! You may not have noticed, but they’re in the exact shape of my fingertips.”

“Oh my god!” She shakes her head. “It’s a sex injury. A minor one at that! If you didn’t heal so damn fast, you’d probably have nail marks all over your back!”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“How is it not the same thing?”

“I’m a monster! And you’re not.”

She takes a determined step towards him, and he leans as far back as the chair will allow.

“Bucky, you are not a monster, and I am not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re stupid.” He hates himself for his sharp words, but she needs to take this seriously. Underestimating how dark, how evil he can be, is a mistake. A deadly one.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you get it?” Without any input from his brain, he stands. “They could find me, and with a few words, I could stare you dead in the eyes as I murdered you! If you were my mission, I wouldn’t even hesitate, and you’d be dead before your body hit the floor!” Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it again. “This isn’t something that can be worked through with some patience and a positive attitude! I could kill you!”

“So could a million other things!” Her voice rises in volume, and before he can contain it-

“But they’re not in the bed sleeping next to you!” He’s shouting at her. God. Everyone is right. He’s beyond saving.

A few tense seconds pass before she looks up at him, a steely look in her eyes.

“Look, I get it. I know what you could do to me.” As she speaks, she pulls out a chair and sits. “But I could also get run over when I cross the road, or the room could fill with carbon monoxide while I sleep. I could have an aneurysm and drop before anyone knows what’s happening.”

He opens his mouth to tell her the likelihood of any of those things happening is far lower than the chance that he’ll hurt her, this time in a major way, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

“I’m gonna be cautious, but I’m also not going to live my life in fear that the ceiling is going to collapse or nuclear war is going to strike, or that someone is gonna turn up and say the magic words that make you go cuckoo for cocoa puffs-” What? “-and I just realized you’re too old for that reference.”

“That’s another thing-” He’s about to remind her exactly how big their age gap is, that although he’s physically close to her age, chronologically, he’s closer to the age of her great grandfather, but she lets out a sudden groan of frustration, and that makes him bite his tongue.

“Oh, fuck off, Barnes! If you’re about to start in on how you’re too old for me, then I’m not gonna wait for you to go full Winter Soldier before I kick your ass!” Out of all things, that’s what snaps him out of it, makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance they can make the best of things.

Smirking, he asks her,

“You think you could kick my ass? Really?” It must be the breaking point for her too, because she snickers.

“Of course. It’s the little bitches you have to watch out for.” That’s it, he’s laughing, nearly doubled over, and from the looks of things, she’s in much the same state.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He asks between stilted breaths.

“I think we both fit in that category, Pal.” Her smile fades, but only slightly. “Bucky, if you really want me to go, if that’s what’ll give you peace, then I’ll do it, but I meant what I said. I trust you.” Never. He’ll never want her to go, he’s sure of it. Well then, that only leaves one option.

“I know what we’re doing today.” It’s an abrupt segue, but it’s the only thing he could come up with on short notice.

“And what’s that?” The microwave dings, reminding him that he needs to stir the oatmeal, and he pushes past her.

“Sit down and have your tea. You’re going to need all your energy if I’m gonna show you how to use a gun.” If she’s staying, then at least he can teach her how to defend herself beyond the basics she already knows.

“So I guess this means you’re keeping me around for a little while longer?” It’s spoken like a joke, but he turns to her, meeting her eyes to drive the point home.

“Yeah, Doll. As long as you want me."

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #pre civil war

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noonachronicles · 4 years

Text

The Malebranche Pt. 1

Im Changkyun/I.M. X Reader & Lee Jooheon X Reader

Word count: 9.4k

Warnings: There is cursing. It’s a story about demons so...probably a little dark in theme. This is demon smut. I’m not being flippant or dramatic. It’s literally smut with demons. This is 18+. I’m not your mom and I’m not the fan fiction police. So just don’t have unprotected sex and don’t fuck demons. There’s also some edging.

Genre: Demon AU. Modern Fantasy. Sorta Soulmate AU

A/N: This is for @nemesyis. You probably just wanted some porn without plot but if you haven’t noticed... I’m incapable. Here is some porn with a light sprinkling of plot for flavor instead.

‘The Path to Paradise Begins in Hell’ - Dante Alighieri

The Eighth Circle was a beautiful burlesque club. It was expected by many to be a front for a brothel or a drug ring but there had never been any proof of it even after several raids and countless undercover investigations. Everyone just assumed that something illegal was happening there, and no one could blame them. It was a cesspool of sin and debauchery.

The club was located just outside of the city in a three story Victorian style mansion. The inside had been completely gutted and renovated by the owners but the outside stayed essentially the same. Only a new layer of paint had been applied. Wine red paneling, black trim, and gold accents. Gothic Barbies dream house.

Inside there was a large foyer with blood red carpets and gold walls. The ceiling was covered in a renaissance style painting. Though the art was not light and angelic like one might have expected. It was dark. It demons and sin. It was the inferno. Beautifully done, but terrifying if you looked too long or too closely. The foyer broke away into three different theatre style rooms. The Red Room, The Purple Room, and The White Room.

The Red Room was the most popular room, it was the most sinful of the three. Named appropriately for it’s color scheme. Red furniture, red floor, red walls, red velvet panels draped overhead. The only things that weren’t red were the crystal chandeliers. Those were consistent through every room in the house. The Red Room experience stood in the center of the four corners. Night club, burlesque club, strip club, and sex club. Consent was the only rule in The Red Room.

The Purple Room offered a slightly more cabaret atmosphere. Mostly purple everything with silver accents here and there. The performances were rambunctious and inclusive. Despite the dark aesthetic it was a classic good time. Usually The Purple Room housed bachelorette parties and birthdays. Large groups of women just looking for a memorable night out.

The White Room, the third of the triplets, was mostly white with accents of gold. It was the most elegant room The Eighth Circle had to offer. Sheer white fabrics hung from the ceiling along with gold and crystal chandeliers. The floor was a bright white marble laced with rivers of gold striping. The couches and chairs were white velvet cushions on gold framing. Women, scantily clad in white lingerie, carried gold trays filled with champagne in crystal stemware. The White Room was mostly for politicians and businessmen that would bring in out-of-towners to impress and seduce them into working with them. Occasionally vanilla couples would partake in The White Room as well if they were trying to spice up a fading love life. Typically if it worked the couples could be found in The Red Room within a week.

The owners of The Eighth Circle were the Malebranche Brothers. Sometimes they were referred to as the Malebranche Twins. Though you’d seen them before in town and couldn’t imagine they were at all related. Most people, however, just called them the Demon Twins.

You would have normally suspected that particular nickname had to do with all of the references to Dante's Inferno that surrounded them whether intentionally or unintentionally. You found it much more likely that the people thought the brothers had a hint of evil in them and less likely that they would have picked up on the literary references. It wasn’t that you thought everyone in town was an illiterate moron. You’d lived in this town your whole life. You knew that everyone in town was an illiterate moron.

The brothers, if that’s even what they were, were young. In appearance they seemed about your age but there was something about their mannerisms that made them seem much older. It’s part of what attracted you to them. They were unlike every other bachelor in this town. It was like they were from somewhere else entirely. A bigger city was your only guess. They had a sense of class and elegance that made them entirely desirable. Unfortunately they weren’t only desirable to you. Every woman and several of the men in town flung themselves desperately at the pair every chance they got. So while you continued to fantasize about them, you knew that’s what they would remain, a fantasy.

From what you knew of them Jooheon was the older of the two brothers but not by much. He was known for his unbelievably plush lips and unmistakable dimples. His hair color usually changed with the seasons but you always thought he looked best with a darker tone. He was also said to be the kinder of the two. He had a pleasantness that his brother seemed to lack, which was probably why he was the one known to take care of the business side of The Eighth Circle.

His brother was Changkyun. He’d been nicknamed the Evil Twin by the people in town. Mostly due to the stern, unimpressed look of his lips when his face was resting. On occasion you’d seen him out to lunch or in a shop with his brother and thought he’d seemed quite playful and even childish. He didn’t scare you too much.

Though you knew Jooheon was meant to be the kinder of the two brothers you would never forget the first time you’d seen them. You were shopping in the city. Jooheon had just stepped out of the car and was headed into a restaurant when he’d turned in your direction, looking just over his shoulder, and his eyes met yours. It was terrifying, just the way it felt, like in that instant he was inside of you.

It was as if he knew every one of your thoughts, every desire. There was just something about him. Lust incarnate with the way your attraction to him tugged at you like there was rope around your waist whenever he was nearby and he held the opposite end firmly in his grasp.

In that sense you felt lucky that they were a deviant desire and nothing more. Certainly you wouldn’t be able to handle either one of them.

Changkyun stood on the third floor balcony that overlooked The Red Room. He was leaning over the banister, soaking in the immoral energies of the night's patrons. A wicked grin grew across his lips as he watched hands grasping flesh. Lips on lips. Very little attention made to who was partaking in who. He loved his work.

“Honey.” he said as his brother moved behind him, not bothering to turn his attention from the activities below.

“Kyun.” Jooheon said leaning against the bannister beside him.

“How are things running?”

“Smooth as ever. Smoother even. Busy for a Wednesday.” Jooheon shrugged, sipping from his glass of bourbon.

“Lucky for us, brother, sin never takes a day off.” Changkyun laughed and snatched the liquor from his brother's hand to take a drink.

Jooheon grew silent, closing his eyes. Changkyun looked over just as they snapped back open to show pitch black orbs. He inhaled deeply, his hand gripping the wooden banister so tightly his knuckles grew white with strain. When he exhaled his eyes lightened to their normal brown.

“She’s here.” he gulped.

Changkyun’s eyebrow perked with mild interest, “Your little townie girlfriend?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Jooheon glared.

“Where is she? No! Wait!” he chuckled enthusiastically, “Let’s play a game.”

Jooheon shook his head, “I don’t want to play with you. You cheat and you’re mean.”

“Don’t be such a fucking infant.” Changkyun snapped, but his smile had returned in the same blink, “Pleeease, Honey. You never play with me. I’m bored.”

He sighed in quick defeat, prefering to avoid another of his brother's temper tantrums, knowing that Changkyun could always make things worse if he was denied what he wanted. “What’s the game?”

“If I can figure out who she is on my own, without any hints from you, I get to fuck her.” Jooheon’s jaw clenched, but his brother wasn’t done yet. “I get to fuck her...first.”

“Changkyun.” he growled between tight lips.

His brother only laughed, “Oh please! Please, brother! Who knows if I’ll even be able to figure it out?”

“No.”

“What if I make it a little harder for myself?” he asked, “I only get three guesses.”

Jooheon rolled his eyes knowing full well Changkyun was not going to let it go until he agreed to play. “Fine. Three guesses. No hints.”

“Deal.” Changkyun grinned and held out his hand.

Jooheon grabbed his brother's hand and in an instant they were wrapped in a bind of fire to seal the deal. Jooheon could see the flames dancing in his brothers glistening black eyes, he already felt defeated. His brother always got everything he wanted. Why should she be any different?

After the deal was sealed Changkyun clapped his palms together. “Let’s begin! ONWARD! To the foyer!”

You stood at the bar in the foyer suppressing a yawn. Requesting a date on a Wednesday night meant this guy had already been docked points in your book. Being late meant he’d lost even more. Mostly you just hoped he wasn’t going to stand you up. You chewed on the stem that had been attached to the cherry that came with your drink and eyed yourself through the mirror behind the bar.

You looked so good tonight considering the speed with which you had to get ready between getting home from work and the original meet up time. Your dress was stark white and tight against your curves. The hem sat against the tops of your thighs, not even thinking about nearing your knees. The neck was a deeper v than you normally wore but the white lace sleeves made it seem more classy than slutty, so you thought anyway.

Your blind date was forty minutes late and you had to decide between getting another drink or calling it a night. You lifted your hand to grab the attention of the bartender, ready to close your tab and giving this date a time of death but then you felt it. A tightening in your stomach, you crossed one red stiletto covered foot over the other, squeezing your thighs together and tried to keep breathing. You didn’t know how you knew it was him, you just knew he was somewhere nearby. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt it.

“Did you need something?” the bartender asked. “Refill?”

You shook your head and after a slightly put out look she turned and went to the next guest. Turning around you leaned your back against the bar and searched the room. It didn’t take long before you saw him. Not your date. Jooheon. Standing at the top of the stairs with his brother at his side.

Changkyun was saying something energetically as he looked over the crowd of club attendees. With a gulp you looked Jooheon over. His hair was bright red tonight, the last time you saw him it was blonde, and pushed back off of his forehead. You could see the dip in his cheek from his dimple from where you were, that's how deep it was, and the double slit in his eyebrow.

You bit your bottom lip as they made their way down the stairs, your heart was racing. He’d missed a few buttons on the black silk shirt he was wearing, intentionally you assumed, and you were mesmerized by the thin silver chain around his neck with its pendant that bounced against his bare chest. Your gaze had just made it to the holy grail, a golden snake belt buckle and a pair of tight black, leather pants that had your mouth a confused mixture of desert dry and waterfall of drool.

That was when you heard, “Did it hurt?”

Moving your focus you met your date, Kihyun, with the single red rose he said he was bringing. “Huh?”

“When you fell from heaven?” he grinned.

Oh. No. You faked your very best chuckle. “That’s cute.”

“I’m Kihyun.”

You lifted the rose he’d handed you, “I’d gathered.”

“I reserved a table in The White Room. People say it’s hard to get a reservation here but honestly I found it easy. I always get into wherever I want probably because-” he continued to brag, not even humbly, but you had stopped listening anyway.

With every step The Twins moved closer. They walked right past you as if in slow motion, the sleeve of Jooheon’s black blazer brushed the back of your hand and you nearly lost your breath completely. Wishful thinking had you believing he’d even looked at you, however briefly. He hadn’t even gotten two steps away and you’d already imagined about four different ways he could take you right then and there. You could probably kill someone if it meant running your hands through his hair, kissing that dimple, knowing that man. Honestly you couldn’t help but to think to yourself that you might have to just sleep with Kihyun tonight even if things didn’t go well because you were pretty sure you were in heat. And why should you have to suffer through the night just because this guy hadn’t yet had the decency to apologize for being an hour late.

“Y/n?” he said, placing his hand gently on your forearm.

You jumped slightly, you were so incredibly wound up. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to go to our seats now.”

“Yeah, let’s go...” You said with one last longing look over at The Twins.

While you were getting comfortable with Kihyun in The White Room, Jooheon was following Changkyun around on his mission through The Eighth Circle. First the foyer, where he would look at every guest and then back at Jooheon to search his face for some sort of slip up. Then The Red Room where he moved around the room in his charismatic way, gently touching guests on their hips or arms, asking them if they were having a good time and trying to read their energy. By the time they stepped out of The Purple Room he’d wasted two of his guesses. Changkyun was furious and Jooheon was feeling hopeful. Only one more wrong guess from his counterpart and he was free to pursue you.

“Give me a fourth guess.” Changkyun huffed, “One for each room and the foyer. It’s only fair.”

“What’s fair is you playing by the rules we’ve already set.” Jooheon declined the request, “One more guess.”

He hoped that in his frustration Changkyun would get reckless with his last guess. Guess on a whim, be wrong, game over. When they stepped into The White Room it was hard for Jooheon to not look directly at you. He also didn’t want to completely avoid you either, as Changkyun would be looking for that as well. His hands were shaking as he made it to the bar and requested a drink to steady his nerves.

Changkyun sighed deeply looking over the room. “Well, she’s definitely in here.”

“What makes you think that?” Jooheon asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“If you were vibrating any harder, every woman in this room would cum in an instant.” He grinned.

Jooheon shrugged, trying to remain casual. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure. You have one guess left.”

“Tiny or tall. Big or small.” Changkyun hummed to himself, “Blonde or Brunette. Virgin or...slut.”

“Are you and your horrid rhyming skills done yet?” Jooheon asked, “Shows about to start. Maybe you’d like to take a break from your boring little game.”

Ignoring Jooheon, Changkyun had a thought. “Maybe she’s neither virgin nor whore. Maybe, maybe she’s part innocence and part evil. You wouldn’t be attracted to anyone too good, that’s bland. But she couldn’t be too evil either or it would annoy you. You need someone just right. A Goldilocks.”

“What are you talking about?” Jooheon sighed. “How could you know what any of these women are like? I’ve never even met her. I don’t know her personality. There’s no way you could.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, dear brother.” Changkyun grinned and placed two fingers against his lips as he scanned the room. “Eenie meenie...miny moe.”

Slowly he pointed his two fingers out like a gun and took aim with you in his crosshairs. His eyes lit up and his thumb dropped as he released a pop from his lips.

“Found her.” He blew a gust of breath on the barrel of his finger gun and looked over at Jooheon with a wink. “Dressed like an absolute angel but there is... nothing very nice inside of her.”

Jooheon swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine. Congratulations, you won your dumb little game. Please, don’t do this.”

“What’s the point of winning if you don’t get your reward?” He asked and sneered over at Jooheon who was pouting, “Oh good God. Stop acting like you’re in love with her or something, you don’t even know her. It’s pathetic.”

“If she says no to your advances…”

“Then of course nothing will happen,” Changkyun scoffed, “I’m not a fucking monster.”

“Guess that depends on who you ask.” Jooheon muttered.

“Well, this was fun but I think it’s time to collect my winnings.” Changkyun looked over at Jooheon curiously, “Are you going to watch?”

Jooheon rolled his eyes and finished off his drunk, “Go fuck yourself, brother.”

“Oh but I won’t have to!” Changkyun laughed to himself as he watched Jooheon storm out of the room.

Kihyun had gotten you a new drink before the two of you took your seats in the front row booth he’d reserved for your date. However he’d also talked so much, about himself, that your drink was already down to the ice cubes. You half listened to him as he described in detail what his average work day looked like and half watched the runoff of your melting ice. Taking a sip every time there was enough collected at the bottom of the cup to warrant taking a sip. What felt like three hours, but was only about twenty minutes passed before he finally looked at his watch.

“Wow, I can’t believe how fast time is flying.” He said with a smile.

“Who knew investment banking was so fascinating.” you offered with mediocre enthusiasm.

“I think they’re really about to get started soon. Would you like me to refill your drink again beforehand?” he asked.

You nodded gratefully, “That would be amazing, thank you.”

“Okay, but last one.” He laughed sliding out of the booth. “No one likes a girl that can’t keep her wits about her.”

Suppressing an eyeroll that hard nearly gave you an instant migraine. The second his back was turned you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the friend that had set you up on this blind date to let her know she was now your ex-friend. You cleared out a few of your awaiting notifications and then before you could even stop yourself your jaw dropped in the biggest yawn you’d ever experienced in your life.

“A yawn that big does not bode well for my business.”

If Changkyun was any other man in the world you assumed you would probably despise him based on his tacky fashion sense alone. Tonight he was wearing a silk, snake print shirt under a purple, velvet blazer. That alone would have been enough to turn you away from any other man, then on top of that his belt buckle was a massive, eye catching, howling wolf's head. Infact, rather than being repulsed by the outfit you found yourself staring quite unabashed as he stood in front of you. His pierced eyebrow was raised as he looked you over, and you noticed the flash of silver on his tongue as it moved across his bottom lip.

In your head you thought of at least ten clever, sexy comebacks to give him. Ultimately, after too long, all you gave him in reply was, “Huh?”

He snickered to himself, knowing full well he’d already ruffled your feathers and he was only just warming up. “If you’re not having a good time, I want you to know I will make it my personal mission to make sure that you do.”

Shaking your head you blushed, “It’s not...The club is great. Beautiful. Entertaining beyond comparison.”

His eyes darted over to the bar, lingered on Kihyun’s back for a moment, and then went back to you, “Oh no, it’s not...your date? Please tell me you’re not here, in that dress, with someone who is yawn worthy boring.”

Your mouth opened and then you closed it slowly into a smile as Kihyun came back to the table. He handed you your refreshed drink and took his seat in the booth before realizing Changkyun was standing beside your table.

“Hi...can we help you?” he asked, clearly confused.

“How rude of me…” Changkyun held out his hand and Kihyun accepted it. “I’m Changkyun. This is my club. Well, half of it anyway.”

“Do you often walk around to make sure people are having a good time?” Kihyun asked.

“Ahh.” Changkyun smirked, “Only when I see a truly beautiful woman in one of my seats.”

“Yes, well, y/n is a stunning specimen.” Kihyun smiled tightly, “I’d thank you for the wonderful time we’ve been having, but the conversation has been all us. The chemistry...spectacular.”

You could see the look in Changkyun’s eye, the one that said he had something witty waiting on that sharp tongue, but the lights began to dim. “Can I sit with you? Just for the first performance? I’d hate to be in anyone’s way.”

“I don’t think-”

“Of course.”

You and Kihyun spoke together, but ultimately you scooted into the booth further and allowed Changkyun to slip in beside you as the music began and that was the end of the discussion. The room went dark and a bright white spotlight hit the stage where the white velvet curtains parted to show the stage. An old, big jazz band song started to play and you watched wide eyed as a huge silver ring descended from the ceiling and sitting on the bottom arc of the circle was a scantily clad woman. You watched fascinated as she began moving around the ring. Hanging, dangling, contorting her body all around the thin bar.

Taking just a moment to break your gaze away from the stage, you grabbed your drink to take a sip. Your eyes caught Changkyun’s hand, resting on the top of the table, his fingers thrumming against the white table cloth. Silver bands on two of his fingers and black nail polish on three. Placing your glass down on the table, it took maximum efforts not to reach for his hand.

They looked so long and soft. You wanted to feel them and feel them on you. You realized that this might be the closest you ever got to one of the brothers, so you let your eyes wander. Over his hands, over his wrist with the thin silver bracelet that dangled from it, over his body. The rise and fall of his smooth chest, that you could see clearly from the way his shirt rested open loosely. He was leaning back against the booth and his neck looked so long you gulped. His profile was flawless, jaw sharp, chin perfectly curved, nose...god, his nose. There was a smirk across his lips when he turned his face. His eyes locked with yours, refusing to let you go, not that you’d have looked away anyway.

Changkyun lifted his hand to your face, dragging his fingers down your jaw before holding your chin between his fingers. You felt dazed in a way you had never felt before. You leaned towards him, you were nearly there, lips ready to press against the ones that waited there for you. Then you blinked. Just a blink and you were sitting back in the booth, the lights coming up from the end of the performance. Kihyun was applauding enthusiastically and Changkyun was slipping out of the booth.

“Wait!” you said suddenly. Changkyun turned to look back at you. “Do you...have to leave so soon?”

“Y/n,” Kihyun reached out and placed his hand on your knee, “I’m sure he’s a busy man with a lot to do. Let’s not bother him further. We can go get dinner.”

“Didn’t you say it was your personal mission to make sure I had a good time?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” he grinned, “I suppose I could spend a while longer with you.”

“...that’s really not necessary.” Kihyun said quietly, but it was pretty clear he was quickly becoming the third wheel on this date.

You bit your lip as Changkyun sat back down next to you. Kihyun watched flabbergasted for several minutes as the two of you flirted right in front of him before he got up with a huff and took off. You felt a little bad but not enough that you would have gone back in time to change anything.

Changkyun, one of the widely sought after demon twins, had his arm over your shoulder and all of his attention focused on you. You pinched yourself several times until you flinched because it just didn’t seem real.

After a few more performances you mentioned needing to think about calling a cab to go home. Changkyun offered sweetly to take you home and you jumped at the chance. This night started out as such a flop and had turned into a fantasy.

“Stay here.” Changkyun said, letting his hand drag over your hip. He’d walked you out of The White Room following the last performance, and into the busy foyer. “I’ll call for the car.”

You inhaled deeply and let out a relaxing sigh. Being around Changkyun had you so tense, so unbelievably aroused. The knot in your gut was screaming for release, and though you didn’t want to be presumptuous you thought you might actually have a chance with him tonight. A big part of you wished you’d caught Jooheon’s eye, but getting to be with either of the twins was more than you could have hoped for yourself.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Your blood prickled as Jooheon stepped next to you, his hands in his pockets.

“I..heh...um.” you shook with nerves.

Jooheon just smiled, his dimple digging deeper into his cheek. You wanted to swim in it.

Looking over at you completely he smiled kindly, “Be careful on your way home tonight. We’d like to have you back here again soon.”

“Wow.” You gasped.

You’d never seen him up close before, and honestly you weren’t ready for it. Changkyun was something. Jooheon was something else completely. His eyes were dark but glistened like galaxies. His lips were so...wet. Soft, plush clouds. Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest you were certain it was about to crash all the way through.

“What?” He asked quietly, like a whisper, just for you.

“It’s just..you’re breathtaking.” You’d be embarrassed about saying it later on when you remembered but for now it just had to be said.

He blushed at the compliment. “I could say the same for you.”

There was just something about him. Something inside you was so drawn to something in him. You thought about what it would feel like to just be held by him. He looked like the definition of comfort.

“Y/n.” Both of you turned to see Changkyun, standing in the doorway looking, in contrast, like the definition of devious. “We’re all set, are you ready?”

“Have fun.” Jooheon bowed out and you watched as he turned and left.

“Yeah, ready.” You smiled at Changkyun and he led you to the car waiting outside.

You slid over the black leather of the backseat and Changkyun slid in after. After you gave the driver your address the two of you sat quietly together. Several blocks passed by the window before Changkyun turned to you.

“You prefer my brother.”

“What?” You asked as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes thinking endlessly about Jooheon and his impossible dimple and his unstoppable lips.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings.” He assured you.

You sighed, “I don’t have a preference, it’s only that I’d noticed him first.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why?” Your whole mood dropped.

“It’s just Jooheon is deeply interested in someone right now.”

“Oh…” you didn’t know why it stung so badly, you should have already known someone like him would have someone.

“She was there tonight at the club. Absolutely stunning young woman.”

“That’s so nice...for them.” You wished he’d stop talking about it already.

“It is, isn't it? Then there’s two poor, lonely idiots like us. Right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed lightly, “Poor, lonely idiot...that’s definitely me.”

Changkyun looked down at his lap and sighed, “Well, unfortunately I can’t get you what you want, but I can give you second best if you’re willing to settle.”

“What?” You asked in genuine disbelief. “You...would be interested in someone like me?”

“Not someone like you.” He corrected. “I’m interested in you.”

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t mean to sound...so surprised. It’s just, I find it so very hard to believe someone as handsome as you would be interested in me.”

“Why do you think I spent my whole night with you?” He chuckled.

“Honestly? Pity.”

“Not at all. Not even a little bit.” He looked over at you and smirked, “I spent my night with you in hopes of getting a kiss.”

You practically snorted in shock. “What?”

“Something small. Just to taste you.”

“Are you serious?”

He shrugged, “Only if you wanted it too. ...but since I’m not Jooheon.”

It would have been stupid to waste even another second so you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You could taste how smug he was. The tip of his tongue swiped at your lips and you opened your mouth to him without hesitation. His tongue was soft and slick with the exception of the little metal ball that massaged your tongue.

You moaned into his mouth while his hands roamed over your body. He’d turned his body to yours, his fingers slipping up the thin fabric of your dress until his hand was your hip and the skirt was pulled all the way up to your stomach. You were a panting, breathless mess and his hands were only urging you further.

You pressed your palm against his chest, “Changkyun…while this is nice and I desperately want more...your driver is like right there.”

“Who?” He said looking towards the front seat and then back to you, “Minhyuk?”

“Yeah…” you nodded, “He’s probably already heard everything I doubt he wants to see it too.”

“Don’t worry. He’s deaf, and blind...and mute.”

“Your driver is deaf and blind?” You smirked.

“Sure he is.” He leaned in and sucked the skin of your neck until you whimpered . “Isn’t that right, Minhyuk?”

When you looked over you saw Minhyuk's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror and then back to the road.

“See, and mute. Like I said.” he slipped his hand between your thighs, fingers grazing your wrecked panties. “Now tell the truth, since your soaked pussy already has. You kind of want him to watch.”

You shook your head, “I don’t care about that. I just...It’s you. I really want you.”

A fire flickered in his eyes and his chest puffed up enthusiastically, “You do?”

“Well...yeah.” you laughed, brushing his cheek with your hand.

“Then you should have me.” His hand pulled gently on your hip.

The pull wasn’t aggressive, only suggestive, until you were throwing your leg over his lap, and sitting on top of him. As the car moved through the streets the backseat filled with the sounds smacking lips and desperate, lustful moans. His hands spread out over your ass and he brought your hips into his. The size of the bulge you felt between your thighs was more than you could have expected. Your eyes rolled back while your hips rolled forward in a needy attempt at getting the friction you hadn’t realized you were missing out on.

Changkyun sat smug beneath you, enjoying the frenzied way that you thrusted against him. Your teeth dug into his lips. It was as if you’d lost all control. Your animalistic need for him was outweighing any desire you had to preserve an image of a respectable woman. Then you were close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. All you needed was maybe ten more seconds with his bulge. And then it was gone. With a surprising amount of strength he plucked you from his lap and you were back on the seat, stunned into silence.

“It seems we’re here.” Changkyun said calmly as he straightened out his shirt and jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“I..umm.” you straightened your skirt down your trembling legs. “Well… thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“I should thank you for the ride.” He laughed and then he asked in a slightly condescending tone, “You didn’t expect me to go in with you did you?”

Too embarrassed to even look at him, you shook your head and opened the door, “Of course not. Uhm, bye.”

You slipped out of the car and began the shameful walk inside. You heard the door shut and were waiting for the car to drive off when you heard Changkyun call out to you.

“Why would I be expected to come inside when you didn’t even ask nicely?”

Turning around you smiled at the sight of him standing beside the waiting car, looking proud of himself for fooling you.

“Changkyun… would you like to join me inside?”

With his hands in his pockets he walked over slowly. Casually, taking in the outside view of your apartment building, until you were standing chest to chest. Leaning down he whispered against your ear, “I would love to come inside of you. Oop, I meant with you.”

Without even asking your brain permission, your hips pushed forward until they were pressed against his. “I-uh…”

“Go on…” he prompted. “Tell the truth. Tell me again what you want.”

He was so close you couldn’t miss the opportunity to taste him again. Kissing softly along his jaw until you met his ear you whispered, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?”

You blushed and shook your head, “Just you.”

“Come on, y/n.” He grinned, “I know how filthy you can get. I just watched you hump me relentlessly in the backseat of my car. Stop playing coy and tell me what it is that you want.”

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.”

He inhaled sharply and stepped back with a pleased smile, “Wonderful. Lead the way.”

Somewhere between your initial excitement outside of the apartment building and the ride up the elevator you remembered that your apartment was a mess. Usually your home had that typical ‘lived in’ feel to it, but it wasn’t a pigsty. However after the hurricane you had become in your attempt to get ready for your date it was a sloppy disaster. You tried to talk Changkyun into waiting out in the hall while you cleaned up but, too amused by your panic, he refused.

“May I have a look around?” Changkyun asked politely as you hurriedly picked up loose clothes from the floor.

“Sure...it’s messy. Obviously.” You warned, “I hadn’t planned on having anyone up.”

“Not even your date?” He called curiously from the living room as he surveyed your belongings.

You let out a quiet sigh as you considered how to answer him. Shaking your own head in disbelief you said, “I don’t typically do this kind of thing. You know, just… invite people home on the first date.”

Changkyun laughed heartily from the doorway of your bedroom and it made you jump. You hadn’t realized he was right there. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit. In fact I prefer your filthy, slutty honesty.”

Between the suggestive tone of his words and the dark look in his eyes, goosebumps popped up all over your body. He swiped his long, wet tongue over his lips and then casually turned his back on you to continue perusing your belongings.

“Can I get you anything? Water...wine…” you asked, lighting a scented candle and then leaning against the dresser once you’d finished your quick clean.

“Do you have any banana milk?” He asked and looked over his shoulder at your surprised face before he laughed, “I’m fucking with you. I don’t want anything.”

Your thighs rubbed anxiously together as you watched him look over your bookshelf. He opened a few boxes to find letters and photographs before moving on.

“You look like you’re looking for something.” You said with a tiny gulp.

“I am.” He said honestly before tugging open one of your bedside drawers.

“How do you know I even have what you’re looking for?”

He smirked as he made his way around the bed to the second drawer. Placing his hand on the handle he watched your cheeks flush and he said, “You absolutely have what I’m looking for...angel.”

You were practically shaking as he pulled the drawer open. He laughed again before reaching into the drawer and pulling out your favorite teal colored vibrator. Turning towards you he spun it around in his hand.

“Not even in the cute, silk drawstring bag for added privacy. Just sitting right on top where anyone can find it. What a bad girl...” He stepped over to you and dragged the toy against your thigh. “This guy must see a lot of action.”

“Maybe.” You said as he moved the vibrator up under your dress. “Why were you looking for it?”

“I wanted to see what you’re used to.” He leaned in until you felt his breath on your neck. “I wanted to see if you could take me.”

Your eyes closed gently, “And?”

“Inconclusive.” He said inhaling you deep into his chest. “I’ll have to conduct further tests. So if you’d be so kind as to go lay down for me.”

“Okay…”

“So agreeable.” He watched you slip past him and move toward the bed. “Take the dress off first.”

You stopped just at the edge of the mattress and unzipped the side of your dress. His eyes stayed on you as you tugged the dress off your shoulders and slipped it down your hips and thighs until it fell to the floor at your feet. Turning around you looked at him, his head was tilted and there was something evil in his smile as he took you in. Noticing that you hadn’t moved he looked up and caught your eyes and with a small shiver you climbed onto the mattress.

“No bra.” He noted.

“Doesn’t go with the cut of the dress.”

“Interesting that you didn’t plan on having any visitors tonight, and yet you’re wearing such mouthwatering panties. Maybe you’re just the type that owns only fancy matching sets.” He said, pushing himself off of your dresser and moving towards the bed, “If I check your panty drawer what will I find, y/n? A dozen matching lace, satin sets or a mismatched mess of cute cotton panties with pineapples and puppy dogs on them.”

“What do you think?” You asked softly as he sat down on the mattress next to you and crossed one leg over the other.

“I think I’d prefer you in neither.” He grinned, his pierced eyebrow raised and you realized his comment had been a subtle command.

Biting your lip, you squirmed as you pulled your panties off your hips and down your thighs. Changkyun cleared his throat and held out his hand once they’d unhooked from your ankles. You handed him the laced satin fabric. Fisting them in his hand he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm. That’s a five star cunt if I’ve ever smelled one.” He smiled, and placed the bundle of fabric in his pocket. His fingers danced across the skin of your stomach, over your hip, and down your thigh. “I’ve already done such a nice job on you. And we’ve only just begun.”

You watched quietly as he pushed your legs open and teased your soaked sex with this fingertips. They slipped over your slick folds, circled your sensitive clit, and dipped briefly into the velvety depth of you. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, taking in every reaction, no matter how small. No matter how hard you tried to hide it from him, he was learning you too quickly. He lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth and hummed pleasantly as his tongue ran over them.

He dropped his hand down to your mouth and said, “Open.”

You twisted your tongue around his fingers before sucking them into your mouth. When he groaned and his eyes fell closed you wanted to cheer in celebration that you’d finally gotten him. Even if it was small, and even if he was definitely going to own you much harder, you internally celebrated your little victory. After a long minute passed with his fingers in your mouth he removed them from your lips and cupped your face in his hand.

“I...like you.” he said softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

Dropping his hand beside him he picked up the vibrator that had been laying on the comforter. A shiver went through you when he clicked the toy on and brought it between your legs. Your toes were already starting to curl into the blanket beneath you and all he’d done was drag the vibrator over your pussy. He circled the toy around your clit several times before dragging it down and back up. You didn’t know exactly what his plan was but you loved how it felt. Once he’d gotten the vibrator as dripping wet as you were, he pressed it inside of you slowly. Your mouth fell open at the sudden filling sensation of it.

“Touch yourself.” he requested.

As your hand reached down to play with your hardened clit, Changkyun leaned forward and took one of your nipples in his mouth. There was something so...detached and demeaning in the way you were completely naked and exposed while he remained fully dressed. Despite how small he had you feeling, you still felt incredibly powerful with all of the focus being on you. It was surprisingly sexy. You moaned as you felt your oncoming orgasm for a second time that night, while he fucked you with your own vibrator. Your free hand slid up into Changkyun’s hair and massaged the back of his head as he continued to suck and tease your breasts with his teeth.

“Fuck!” You shouted, back arching off the mattress, “Don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna cum.”

You were right there that moment of agony before the ecstasy. Except ecstasy didn’t come and neither did you. Changkyun had pulled the vibrator from between your legs and turned it off and with the loss of the fill your hand had dropped subconsciously.

“Why?” You whimpered.

This was the second time he’d done that tonight and you were annoyed and furious and so aroused you wanted to scream. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing a few stray strands of hair from your sweat beaded forehead.

He shrugged, “It’s funny. You’re very cute when you squirm.”

He stood up from the mattress and pulled his jacket from his body before folding it and hanging it over the plush reading chair in the corner. He hummed a cheerful song as he walked back to the bed, rolling his sleeves up his forearms. Standing at the end of the mattress, he looked over you. Grabbing your ankles and he dragged you down the bed slightly until he had you where he wanted you and then he climbed onto the bed between your legs. Spreading your legs wide open he admired what he’d done so far. You laughed to yourself as he inspected your swollen, sticky cunt.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, spreading your lips open.

“Nothing.” you answered quickly.

You gasped as he smacked your sensitive sex, “Don’t lie. Tell me what you think is so funny. I love a good joke just like anyone else.”

“It’s just…” you sighed, “If you’re going to try and eat me out...it’s not going to work. Not after you’ve already gone so hard with the vibrator. It just won’t be enough to get me off.”

He laughed lightly, “Do you mind if I try it? If you think it won’t work, it probably won’t work but, I’d still like to try.”

“I’ve never said no to head before.”

You’d had one boyfriend in the past who always asked you to sit on his face. It was some of the best head you’d ever gotten. The way his tongue got deeper than any other before him, you were sure it was the only way you could come from oral alone. That was until now, until Changkyun.

He started out so timid. Tiny kitten licks, a long slow swipe of his tongue from bottom to top. It was nice but as you’d suspected it wasn’t about to bring you to orgasm. Then he changed tempo and once he had you suspected that his original apprehension was a red herring.

He pushed your legs open and put the weight of his arms down on them to keep from moving, which was smart because in seconds your body was attempting to snap them shut on his face. He sucked your clit between his lips and beat it senselessly with the tiny metal piercing on his tongue. You’d been wrong, and if he’d asked you would have admitted it readily. However he didn’t ask, he just kept going. You fisted his hair in between your shaking fingers.

“What...the...fuck.” you gasped as he snaked his tongue inside of you.

Not just inside of you, but deep. Deeper than should have been physically possible. There was half a sense of concern, what had he actually shoved inside of you, but the rest of you just didn’t care. The part that didn’t care won over as your hips started to push up into his face, needing more.

“Oh my god!”

Your gasps turned to shouts of pleasure as he brought out his secret weapon. With his tongue impossibly deep inside of you, the piercing massaging your slick sensitive walls you thought you could come like that. Then his nose brushed against your clit. You couldn’t breath. Your eyes blew wide and it felt like everything you thought you’d known about your own body was a mistake.

“Yes!” You screamed out as your hips tried to buck further into his face, “Fuck! YES! Oh god! Oh- shit!”

He kept on and you kept screaming until there was aggressive pounding on your bedroom wall from your neighbor. You knew you should stop screaming, that you should pull yourself together, but Changkyun and his devilish relentlessness wouldn’t let you.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum! I’m! Gonna-”

Changkyun pulled away from your pussy with a pop. He licked his lips as he pushed himself up off the mattress.

You deflated against the pillows like a sad balloon. “I don’t like you.”

He shrugged, “For a minute there it sounded like you were incredibly fond of me.”

“Why? Why do you hate me?”

“You said I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.” he said innocently, “It would have been so embarrassing for me if I failed, so I thought it would be better to just quit while I was ahead.”

Grabbing the pillow from beneath your head you swung it into his face. He grabbed the pillow with a genuine laugh and tossed it back on the bed.

“You know I was right there. You know you were going to get me off.” you glared. “Asshole.”

Walking around to the side of the bed he grabbed your hips and tugged you ruffly until your legs were hanging off of the edge where he stepped between them. He leaned forward and sucked the skin of your chest between his lips, moving up until he was latched onto your neck. Your arms slid up his back until your hands were hooked over his shoulders, holding him close.

Finally he pulled back slightly and whispered, “Maybe I just wanted to feel you cum on my dick. Would that be so bad?”

“No.” you said breathlessly as the dark look in his eyes washed over your body like a wildfire.

A gulp traveled down your throat as he stood fully and removed his belt and unzipped his pants. “Flip over for me.”

“I want to see it.” you said curiously.

“Fine.” he smirked and placed his hands on his hips. “Go ahead.”

Without a second thought you sat up on the bed and reached to unbutton his pants. You dragged them down his hips just slightly, along with the black boxer briefs beneath. Then, teeth digging anxiously into your bottom lip you freed the massive bulge you’d enjoyed so much earlier in the car.

“Oh.”

It was what you could only describe as the holy grail of dicks. Smooth and long, with perfect and even coloration. It was pretty. The thickness of it made you both nervous and excited. It sat heavy in your palm and the tip glistened with precum. Leaning forward you pressed a sweet kiss against the head and then sat back to lick the taste of him from your lips.

“Will it do?” he asked

“Only one way to find out.” you turned around, and dug your knees into the mattress.

You could feel his hand move between your legs once more. He pressed three fingers inside of you, just to be sure you wouldn’t be stretched too uncomfortably. When he finally sunk into you, you lurched forward onto the bed.

“Is that okay?” It shocked you how thoughtful and caring he sounded.

You nodded and pressed back into him for assurance. “Don’t stop this time.”

“I won’t.” he promised, his hands wrapping around your hips as he continued on.

It was so slow and easy at first, you thought it would be nice if he could just keep doing it forever. A long satisfied moan escaped your lips. Once he knew you’d taken to his size he went harder, faster. Reaching forward he grabbed your hair tightly in his fist and pulled you back against his chest. It surprised you how sensitive your skin was against the silk of his shirt. Almost as sensitive as your pussy had gotten to his silk cock. The arm that wasn’t hanging onto your hair slipped around your body, his hand cupping your bouncing breast.

“Oh! Fuck me! Harder!” you begged as he slammed into you.

Your orgasm was close, coming faster than any of the ones before and only building bigger with every hard thrust.

“Oh, baby…” he panted against the top of your head, feeling you start to contract around him.

Then your eyes went wide, “NO! What are you doing? Don’t you dare.”

He’d pulled out and hadn’t pushed back in with the swiftness as he had before.

Changkyun only laughed. “Calm down. I just want to see that pretty little face you’re about to make when you cum all over my fat cock .”

You flipped over one more time and looked up at him skeptically. “I swear to God...”

He chuckled as he lifted your leg up around his waist and sunk back into you. “God doesn’t give a fuck if you cum. I do.”

There was something about being face to face. Having your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his forehead pressed against yours, your tongue being gently sucked in between his lips. You were glad he’d made the switch. This was nice. And though he was still fully dressed it felt intimate.

“Oh..Changkyun...yes.” you cried out as your orgasm tore through you threefold. You’d never come so hard, you weren’t sure you could stop. The tightening of your walls milked out his own orgasm soon after. Your body shook almost violently as you came but so sweetly your voice flowed against his ear when you breathed out a simple, “Kyunnie…”

It wasn’t something he’d ever wanted anyone to know. If people found out it would make him appear soft and weak. However, as intentionally uncaring and cruel as he often came off, all he’d ever wanted was to be wanted. Really, truly wanted. Not wanted because he was attractive or rich or had a big dick. And it was impossible for him to know what you’d really wanted him for but it just felt different with you. It felt like more when you said his name like that, like you still wanted him even though he was done with you.

He knew when you said his name like that he’d fucked up. All he was trying to do was piss off Jooheon. It had been a joke. He didn’t plan to actually like you, he didn’t want to. He wanted to discard you like trash. Give you away to his brother as sloppy seconds and see how much he wanted you then.

“Stay here.” he said hurriedly. He pulled out of you and tucked himself into his pants before disappearing into your attached bathroom.

“Where would I go?” you muttered, before dropping back onto the mattress exhausted.

You closed your eyes and listened as he moved around your bathroom, trying to figure out what he was doing in there. You had figured he was just washing up but it was taking longer than you expected. When he finally returned you were nearly asleep.

“Not yet…” he said waking you up and then helping you off the bed. “Can’t let you go to bed looking like some teenage boys used sock.”

You snorted out a laugh and leaned your head against his shoulder. “You’re just so romantic I don’t know how to handle myself.”

In the bathroom you were genuinely stunned to see that he’d run a bath for you, complete with overflowing bubbles. He helped you step into the tub and eased you down into the warm water.

“Kyunnie…” he looked away from you and then gulped before looking back, “This is actually really sweet.”

“Well,” he grabbed a washcloth, dunking it into the water to use on your skin, “it can’t take all night. Minhyuk is still downstairs waiting for me.”

Lifting your hand you moved it over his neck and pulled him down for a kiss before muttering against his lips, “You can tell him to leave...stay the night with me.”

“I can’t.” he stood up from the tub and dropped the towel in the water. “I’m going to clean up out here. I’ll be back to get you out in a minute.”

He was panicking and he needed to get his composure back. It might be nice to stay the night with you. It might be what he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t. Not only was Minhyuk waiting to take him home, but Jooheon was waiting there for him. Jooheon. His brother. His only friend on earth. The only person who ever would and ever could understand him completely. The only person that would ever put up with his bullshit no matter what.

Jooheon. The one that he was certain was bound to you. At least if the mark on your forearm had anything to say about it.

So he took a deep breath, cleaned up the mess he’d made of your bed and went back to help you out of the tub like he said he would. He even dressed you and tucked you into the bed before getting his jacket off the chair. When he turned to say goodbye you were looking at him with big needy eyes and your lip between your teeth and he hated it.

“Will I see you again?” you asked.

He looked at you with one of his classically smug smirks that you’d seen over and over again all night and said, “I’m sure you will.”

#im changkyun scenario #lee jooheon scenario #im changkyun smut #monsta x scenarios #monsta x smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #I.M. scenario #I.M. smut

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velkynkarma · 3 years

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So I’m suuuper late to the party, but I finally, finally finished Rhythm of War.

I am delighted by it. Thoughts and reactions under the cut, just in case for spoilers.

OKAY SO I had a lot of feelings about this book, and I wanted to be able to sit down and read the book properly and devote time to it, instead of sneaking paragraphs here or there during work breaks. So that’s why it took me so long to read it. In a way I feel like a terrible fan for taking so long when I was so excited about reading it for over a year, but in another way I am satisfied that I did it justice.

General thoughts/reactions:

I am legitimately impressed with how well Sanderson handled Shallan’s Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID is one of those mental illnesses that gets butchered so hard in media, and carries such a stigma of being “evil” or “creepy.” But Shallan’s representation seems much more factual in terms of how we know DID works today, including but not limited to:

Created from a severe trauma at a very young age, in which the brain starts splitting itself in order to protect against traumas and form survival mechanisms

Alters exist to protect the system and handle tasks for the host that the host cannot handle. Both Veil and Radiant handle tasks/functions that Shallan can’t

Also establishing that different alters can have different skills (such as Shallan being good at drawing and Lightweaving while Veil is bad at it, or Radiant handling espionage poorly)

Establishing that actual DID treatments do include encouraging alters to learn to work together and establish communication lines between each other. I like that the three create a pact to work together and rules to stand by and enforce them on each other to the best of their ability. They mess up sometimes (Radiant killing Ialai, Veil forcibly taking over sometimes). But they try.

But also establishing that prior to Shallan’s realization of what was happening at the end of Oathbringer, each of these alters had their own memories and ways of handling things and did not necessarily communicate with each other

Establishing that multiple times in prior books when Shallan thought she was ‘acting’ she was actually Blending with another identity, either Veil or Radiant. This becomes more apparent when Veil or Radiant actively discuss being the ones to do things that were previously from “Shallan’s” perspective (such as Veil learning slight of hand/etc at the beginning of Words of Radiance). This stuck out to me as especially interesting since accounts of people with DID often mention not knowing they have it or are switching for years, but being semi-aware of doing things differently than normal.

Veil being a protector-type alter and a trauma holder is extraordinarily common in DID cases and made an absolute ton of sense. It also suggests that she’s been around for YEARS longer than before Shallan ‘created’ her which, again, is not uncommon with DID cases

Veil, at least, also acts like she’s much older than Shallan, even calling her things like ‘kid.’ While Veil is, of course, no older than Shallan, this is completely accurate that alters can have different ages and even different genders to the host body in terms of how they perceive themselves

Establishing that fusions/integrations are possible, with Veil being ‘absorbed’ by Shallan at the end. This is a part of DID treatment and I like that it was handled in a way where both alters consented and the trauma was released, but it was handled. Even if Veil developed additional skills over time, it’s clear her first and foremost job was as a trauma holder alter, and once the trauma was no longer being hidden, her ‘purpose’ was done. And now Veil is a part of Shallan, and the expectation is that somewhere down the line, Radiant will join too.

Very very VERY VERY importantly, establishing Shallan’s interaction with other characters as a system with DID in a way that did not make her look like she was ‘crazy.’ DID is super serious and systems are often stigmatized. But I adored that Adolin is supportive and treats each alter on their own playing field (and even seems to be able to recognize them without Shallan changing hair color). I love that other characters like Kaladin admit they don’t exactly get it, but do their best to be respectful of it anyway. I love that nobody treats Shallan like a freak and sticks her in a padded room, and that people DO respect her wishes and treat Veil and Radiant as equally viable people. I love that it’s treated so healthily.

Honestly my only real ‘hmm, not exactly like that’ moments were thinking back on how Shallan ‘created’ personalities. Veil being a trauma holder for Shallan’s old memories implies she’s been around for a long time, so she wasn’t really “created” in that sense, just given more of a face/name. But Radiant appears to have been created spur of the moment when Adolin was all ‘hey, let me teach you to swordfight!!!’ To the best of my knowledge people with DID don’t really have control over when they split, nor do they really get to actively ‘design’ their alters. It’s more like alters form as needed to handle something. But considering how accurate everything else is, and that possibly this is just Shallan’s way of handling her splitting in a way that makes sense to her, I’m willing to give this a cautious pass.

Also maybe lost memory moments. People with DID generally can lose time. Shallan doesn’t seem to, but then towards the end we also see she’s not a reliable narrator in her own right, since somehow Radiant managed to kill Ialai when we’re reading that passage. So it’s possible we the readers are missing things because Shallan is, too.

That said, the way DID works, it will never really go away even if Shallan does fully integrate. I’m curious if more alters could form down the line. I thought this had been happening with ‘Formless,’ but Formless didn’t turn out to be another alter so much. Oh well.

I had wondered about Shallan and Pattern’s bond for a while, and I’d been wondering if maybe she had a different spren ever since Pattern mentioned he could go away or she might kill him too back in...Oathbringer, I think it was? It seemed strange to me that Shallan wouldn’t have seen him around for a long time in his pattern form, or that she’d get chased by so many cryptics in book 1, if she’d been bonded to him this whole time. Or that she had a shardblade she could summon in book 1, but Pattern hadn’t been established as a character yet. And then when Adolin met a deadeye Cryptic in Shadesmar, I was like, ‘damn, that’s Shallan’s first spren isn’t it.’ And I was vindicated. I feel stupidly proud of myself for catching even one of Sanderson’s twists.

I think this is the first book in the series where Kaladin’s arc didn’t really grab me as much as the others to start. Not that it was bad, I still really enjoyed it, especially towards the end. But I was surprised to find when I got to Part Three and Kaladin’s name was listed but Adolin’s wasn’t that I went, ‘awww, damn,’ and used that as my break point for the night.

I think part of this is that so much of Kaladin’s story that I love and adore is about not just Kaladin, but Kaladin’s friends and found family arcs with Bridge Four, and so much of that was taken away from him in the early part of the story. Like Kaladin, I guess I was just sad about everyone moving on and him being along. Sigzil going off to be the new Windrunner leader, Rock leaving, Rlain leaving (for a while at least), Adolin and Shallan leaving...it was hard. I felt his depression. Unfortunately, it made it a bit difficult to read, I guess.

On the flip side though, Kaladin’s ending arc in the story was A+ and I loved it. I love that his Fourth Ideal is specifically accepting that he cannot save everyone, which is something he’s struggled with from his very first appearance in the very first book. I love how this sheds so much light on that moment in Oathbringer where Syl is calling for him to speak the words and he just can’t, because at the time, he wasn’t ready to accept that he couldn’t save everyone. I love that he admits to Dalinar that he really did need help and a chance to recover, and that his setup for the next book doesn’t seem to be as Stormblessed, the soldier, but as a healer. And I love that he made up with his dad in the end, and did manage to at least save him.

ROCK. NOOOO.

TEFT. NOOOOOO!

And yet as always, Sanderson books are the only books where I really feel...ok with character death. It’s sad, for sure, but also deaths have purpose in his stories. Nobody is killed meaninglessly.

I think my favorite arc was Adolin’s, throughout the whole course of the book? I can’t help it. I love my enthusiastic, optimistic himbo who is just doing his best. Every time he was like ‘well I’m useless since I’m not a Radiant, but I’ll do the best I can’ I was like NO, HONEY NO, YOU’RE SO IMPORTANT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE REALLY? Look at all the people you help!!! Just look at them all!!!

As stated earlier, I love that he’s just so damned supportive of Shallan’s condition. Even if they don’t have words for ‘DID’ in Roshar or even understand it in their own terms, he’s just so damn supportive. She tells him she’s got multiple alters and he’s just like ‘cool, how can I help.’ He loves his wife. He’s friendly with Radiant. He’ll share jabs with Veil. He just wants to help, always.

I love that he’s so supportive of Kaladin too. I adored towards the beginning, where Kaladin’s going into a depressive spiral, and Syl gets Adolin because Adolin is one of the few people he can’t intimidate. And I adore that Adolin is supportive, but in a way that shows he gets it. He knows it’s not safe to leave Kaladin alone with himself and refuses to let that happen. But he also doesn’t force him to participate and acknowledges that yeah, you can feel like shit, and that’s ok, but you’re gonna feel like shit around other people, because it’ll help you. And it does. And I love that a thousand pages later Kaladin starts going into another depressive spiral and happens to mention, ‘fuck, Adolin’s not here to pull me out this time,’ recognizing what Adolin can do. I just love how much their friendship has progressed.

I love that he’s still so supportive of his brother, even if Renarin was barely in this book. I love that he even briefly defends Renarin against Shallan, even when he recognizes she doesn’t really mean any harm.

I adore his continued arc with Maya. I love that he was so excited to go to Shadesmar so he could see her again. I love how he’s clearly had offers from spren or other Radiants to talk to spren about bonding to him, and he’s like, ‘nah,’ cause he’s loyal to her. I love how everyone keeps insisting ‘deadeyes can’t speak, deadeyes can’t feel’ and he’s just like, yes?? Yes they can??? Have you ever fucking tried??? I love that it’s his genuine connection to Maya that helps her recover enough to actually talk on her own with more clarity, and how she’s clearly coming back to herself. And what a revelation, that Maya and the others deliberately sacrificed themselves. And I love that ultimately it’s his bond with Maya that gives him success with the honorspren. He did this his own way, with his own skills, in a unique way that nobody else has ever done before, because maybe he’s not a Radiant in the shiny new sense of the word, but he’s the only person out there willing to treat his sword like a partner and show kindness to spren and that shows.

I also really do hope he works stuff out with his dad because he’s got every right to be angry but also, I want him to be happy :(

Ultimately I adore Adolin’s whole polarity, that he’s a masterful duelist and combatant, and has probably killed hundreds, and yet his best quality is his sheer kindness. He has really grown on me as a character since book one, honestly. I remember not liking him in book one. I still don’t, when I reread it! But in the rest, he’s probably second only to Kaladin as my favorite.

Venli. I remember not really liking Venli in earlier books. I thought Eshonai was cool, but Venli I remember just not really vibing with. Seeing her story really made her a lot more interesting to me though, especially since I love her whole gradual growth as a character. Openly admitting to herself that she’s a coward and just wanted to get attention against her sister...and then doing something about it to better herself. Doubting her abilities to do so and being uneasy about it the whole time, but ultimately doing it anyway. She’s a flawed character, but she’s a good character, and I grew to like her so much more after seeing her story.

Also, I loved Eshonai’s mercy at the end there. Fuckin yes. Bittersweet smiles all around.

Szeth-son-son-Vallano wore white on the day he was to kill a king, because apparently white is the listener battle color, it makes SENSE now

I am also veeery curious what is going on with Szeth, who wasn’t really in this book all that much. And I’m curious if ‘Sixteen’ in Lasting Integrity is actually his dad, because they sure drew attention to a hiding Shin man and then immediately never mentioned him again.

Raboniel. MAN. What a fucking character. I was fascinated with her from the beginning. I never knew exactly what to think of her, because we see her from so many perspectives. Leshwi, who has been established as possibly the ‘goodest’ and most sane of the Fused, openly tells us not to trust her. We learn she’s done terrible things in her lifetime, like trying to create a plague to destroy all of humanity, and one of her titles is just straight-up scary af. She learns how to really, truly, actually kill spren, which is terrifying. She tried to kill the Sibling, which is obviously Super Bad. And yet, she’s such a compelling character. She’s polite and reasonable, to a degree. Clever and enormously genre-savvy, but also blunt and to the point, knowing full well Venli is being used to spy on her and Navani is working against her and blatantly stating so. She’s so intelligent, and is willing to both respect Navani and work with her to create things together, and recognize her worth. I never fully trusted her at any point, because we know she’s done so much to be scared of, but man, I enjoyed reading her segments so freaking much. I was sad when she died, and her weird frenemy relationship with Navani was really intriguing.

I really enjoyed Dabbid’s little segments. I’m so happy he’s comfortable talking around the others. I’m also happy to see Sanderson delving into including more autistic characters in different points on the spectrum, while also showing other people treating them well.

Taravangian. I still don’t know where to stand on this guy and I’m very nervous now that he’s basically a god and apparently smart enough to outwit everyone else again. I was excited when he actually managed to kill Rayse but fuck, we might have been better off with Rayse.

SOMEBODY ACTUALLY MANAGAGED TO OUTWIT HOID AND I’M SCARED AF AT WHAT THAT MEANS

Moash. I just. Fuck. I don’t even know. I’m not even sure if this counts as him killing under his own power or not. He doesn’t really want to take responsibility for his actions, and as long as Odium takes his pain and feelings, he doesn’t have to. But that moment when he wasn’t protected, he seemed upset with what he had done. So I really have no damned clue where his story is gonna go. But fuck, it’s scary how easily he almost undid Kaladin completely. He knew exactly what buttons to press. We’re lucky the Pursuer ignored him and attacked anyway, or he really would’ve won.

I’ll admit, my Cosmere knowledge is less than stellar, so I’m still not entirely sure I understand the stuff with the Heralds and Mraize. But I am definitely curious to see where it’s going on a surface level, at least.

LIFT USES LIFELIGHT that explains a lot. I wish she’d been in this story more because I adore her lol.

I know Sanderson announced Ace Jasnah a while back, but I love that it’s been so firmly established in the book itself. No beating around the bush or leaving people to wonder. She just straight-up says she’s got no real interest in sexual stuff and never really got how it drove others. I love it. I love seeing that so honestly and bluntly stated.

Anyway I’m sure there’s a lot more to be said but overall, A++++ as always, super adored, next one when????

#Velkynkarma rambles #Stormlight Archive #Rhythm of War spoilers

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ask-de-writer · 3 years

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THE LUCK OF BLACK CATS : MLP Fan Fiction

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THE LUCK OF BLACK CATS

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1441 words

Writing begun 10/21/17

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

It is well known that Black Cats bring bad luck. It may be that it is not QUITE true.

Sugar Maple was playing outside, in her Grandmare's neatly fenced yard. Sugar loved to visit Grandmare but her mom really didn't like to bring her this far into the Everfree Forest.

Sugar climbed onto the platform of Grandmare's swing set and began to shift her weight to make the swing swoop back and forth! It was fun! The wind made her light brown mane and tail fly about as the butter colored foal swept from one end of the swing to the other and back!

The swing was almost as much fun as playing with Grandmare's cats! They were all pure, silky black and over half of them had wings like a bat! They could fly really well, too! Sugar bailed off the swing at the top of its swoop and spread her own young wings! Her glide was inexpert but enthusiastic, as she sailed about Grandmare's cottage! She almost made it all the way around, back to the swing set! Her hooves hit the lawn sod only about ten feet short of her goal!

Little hooves clattering on the stone of the front steps, Sugar dashed into Grandmare's little house! “Mom! Grandmare! I glided almost all the way around the house! I made it almost all the way back to the swing!”

Her mother set her teacup down firmly and began, “SUGAR MAPLE, what have I told you about unsupervised flying!?”

Grandmare raised an admonitory black furred wing and used the other to scoop Sugar into a welcoming hug! Taking a moment to preen a few small tangles from Sugar's mane with her razor sharp fangs, Grandmare said gently, “You did very well. Did you flap at all or was it a pure glide?”

Giving her leaf brown mother a slightly fearful glance, Sugar replied, “I glided the whole way! I did cup my wings up to land! I came down real gentle.”

The hug was pulled tighter as Grandmare smiled, showing her fangs. Shifting her voice up, beyond the hearing of most ponies, Grandmare asked, “[How is your chirping coming along?]”

Answering the same way, Sugar replied, “[It is going really good! Mom can't hear it, so I practice it a lot!]”

“[Tell me, Sugar, what you chirp in my bedroom?]”

Excitedly, Sugar exclaimed, “You got a dress horse with a costume on it! It is too small for Mom or you, so it must be for me!”

Nodding, Grandmare agreed, “It is, Dear. Go and try it on. Later, we will practice flying our way.”

Sugar dashed for the back room!

Granmare returned her attention to Sugar's mom. “Hazel, I thought that I made it perfectly clear that Sugar must be allowed to develop! Look at you! You play the part of a crippled pegasus! You do it so well that you have lost the ability to fly or even hear chirping!

“THAT is too high a price to pay for 'fitting in'!”

Hazel looked down and fiddled with her teacup before trying, “If anypony ever saw my extended wing, or Sugar's for that matter, they would scream THESTRAL! There could be a mob! I don't want Sugar hurt!”

Grandmare softened, “In that, we are agreed. Caramel Treat's is always a safe place. Those Werewolves do understand the problem and will protect us. So will Reverend Smallflower at the Assembly.”

Their discussion was ended by the return of Sugar. She was wearing the costume as a thestral witch! Two of Grandmare's cats were riding her shoulders, purring happily. One casually lifted a furry, bat like wing to scratch under it.

Grandmare was delighted. Hazel was less so, but agreed that it was a great costume.

Grandmare led Sugar outside, the cats following. Soon Sugar was fluttering short distances and landing properly. The cats were 'helping.' They thought that the fluttering filly was a great toy! Conversely, Sugar, dodging their mock attacks thought that the cats were great teachers! It only took a few hours before she was swooping and dodging with them in a game of aerial tag! Happy foal's laughter pealed down from the October sky.

Grandmare nodded serenely, “She takes to the sky as naturally as breathing. A true thestral if ever there was one.”

Hazel agreed sadly, “I know. I hope that Ponyville will be better to her than it was to me.”

Grandmare turned Sympathetic eyes to Hazel. “I do know what you mean, dear. You half breeds have it rougher than we full bloods. The unicorns have never forgiven our service to the Nightmare Throne, 2000 years ago, in the Nightmare Wars. The only thing that shows Maple to be a partial breed is her color.”

Sighing, Hazel glanced at the sun's angle and suggested, “We must return home, Grandmare. It has actually been a good visit.”

Hazel and Sugar Maple trotted back along the nearly overgrown trail that led from Grandmare's to behind the Duchess O' Red Hoof's land. It joined the trail leading from Brightmane's cottage. It became far better and more traveled after that.

They reached Ponyville proper and went into their snug little cottage home without incident. The two cats that had ridden Sugar's shoulder all the way, immediately flew from her shoulder, circling about the room, high and low. They perched on the sofa back and began to preen.

Evening fell and with it began Nightmare Night. Gathering together her loot bag and a “Witch's Staff”, Maple set out. Both cats riding her shoulders.

She joined a group making the rounds of homes and small businesses.

“Wow! That is a neat thestral witch costume! How did you turn your fur black, Sugar?”

She smiled and replied, “Just a cheap brush in dye. It will wash out.”

“Gee, I wish that I had a cat like yours to go with my witch costume! Aren't you afraid of bad luck? Yours are pure black.”

The mare in charge of the small herd was in a silly looking deer costume with phony horns on a spring gripper across her head!

Of course, they dropped in on Caramel Treat's Sweets for their famous Nightmare Night display and fabulous foal bowl! It did not disappoint! There were the very real Werewolves, Caramel and Fangrin in their Everfree Ridgeback Wolf forms, a black gryphon, several games and the foal bowl hidden under mists in a big cauldron.

The party went on toward the more residential parts of town, followed by a pegasus in a skull like mask and a costume of bones painted onto black cloth. His wings could slide out through reinforced cuts in the fabric. It hid his cutie mark.

Sugar chirped to the cats in a voice too high for ponies to hear, “[Dark Sky, New Moon, could you go back and cross his path a few times? I do not like him following us!]”

In answer, both cats hopped from her shoulder, gliding to the ground and scampering back! They paraded across his path repeatedly. Undeterred, he continued to follow the herd of foals.

The cats returned to Sugar's shoulder. The foal herd was approaching Drastin Park and its big unobstructed hoof ball pitch. He charged toward the hapless foals!

He tripped over two cats that had been watching him for any such stunt! He faceplanted, in a most embarrassing way! The whole herd of foals heard him fall and stopped to watch!

Climbing back to his hooves, he charged again! Bowling the foals over like ninepins, he grabbed two foal loot bags and leaped for the night sky!

Two cats and Sugar were on his tail, almost immediately! The cats snagged his left wing, causing him to spiral out of control! Before he could do anything to get rid of the cats, Sugar slammed her head in between his hind legs from above and power dived, flipping him over onto his back!

Fluttering and flailing helplessly, he hit the ground with a crunch! Sugar landed lightly beside him and gathered up the stolen loot bags. She was still picking up spilled treats when the rest of the group swarmed around her!

As Sugar was returning the stolen bags, one of the colts said admiringly, “We could see the whole thing! The moon lit up those thin clouds and we saw it all!! You really are a thestral! That was so neat how you took him down!”

One of the fillies came and got her loot bag. She petted the cats and said, “I guess that the thing about black cats and bad luck is true!” Giggling, she pointed to the fallen pegasus thief. “It sure was for him!”

~THE END~

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#THE LUCK OF BLACK CATS #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

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metellastella · 4 years

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Mao Mao Pride Week Prompts, Part 3

A continuation of the prompts put out by @maomaosmother Part 1 https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621726687992872960/hello-everyone-happy-pride-month-to-all-of-you Part 2 https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621834183114932224/mao-mao-pride-week-prompts

7. Marriage

“But first,” Mao’s sister clapped her hands together, “I wanna talk weddings some more!”

“Right on!” the badger agreed. He whooped.

“Oh good grief,” Mao rolled his eyes. “Fine. You two can chat with the king about the possibility. And I reiterate. Possibility. When you’re ready to make good on your promise, come find me.”

She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Fine. Be the usual stick in the mud. Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

He grabbed a few more things off his plate and left.

“So,” she sat back down, “I guess if you favor men, the animals here didn’t have to petition for marriage laws to be amended, huh?”

”Correct.” the lion replied.

“Though some thought I was … ironically … being ‘biased.’ Oh well. Can’t help that. Royal power is absolute, for better or worse. I’ve traveled to other nations and, during debates, have suggested that they not use the term ‘marriage’ as I have. Law is, at least in some peoples’ opinions, supposed to be ‘secular,’ and not ‘religious,’ anyway, so why cling to a specific term that isn’t? Simply afford all the exact same rights to civil unions or domestic partnerships. Or make up a third designation. Much easier to get it passed that way. Bypasses a whole lot of entrenched resistance. People can hash out in their own communities what to do with the non-legal angles and rituals and what to call it. But for a ‘marriage’ certificate? What, after all, is a rhetorical difference, in the end?” the diplomat and statesman snapped his fingers. “And like that, less angst for absolutely everyone involved. It’s not always that easy to reconcile or find middle ground. I can’t think of practically any other issues where simply altering one single word could have that effect. Despite a couple of decades worth of rhetorical experience under my belt.”

He sat back, and interlaced his paws contentedly. “Some countries insisted they were still going to adjust tax breaks because of the very unlikely event of children. Unless surrogates are involved, and properly registered as such, to try to avoid wrangling over child custody. That’s a whole other kettle of fish to get into, obviously.”

She nodded. “Well like Mao said, I’m not here to talk politics. Let’s hear your fantasies about the most important day of your life!”

The badger shook his head. “Well it’s not like that for everyone, but don’t get me wrong, I wanna hear, too!” he said excitedly.

“Erm … “ the lion looked down.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s just … I’m more enthusiastic about the idea than Mao, but I’m still a long way off from that myself. So, I don’t want to insult you by making you think I’m further along, just because I have envisioned a marriage … regardless of who the groom is.”

She frowned a little, thinking. “All right then.”

“But I would love to hear about some of your customs, in that event.”

Her face fell some more. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Oh?”

“The homeland, though the majority is plenty accepting of pairing in general, has not approved marriage between men,” she said, “so any customs you applied to each other or one of you … might be seen as disrespectful. For example. Would Mao dress as the woman, since he’s chosen to sub? Not only do I think he would never, ever do that …” she looked at the badger for confirmation.

He shook his head, “Oh most definitely not.” He thought for a second. “Maybe that’s why he got up out of here, for that matter. He thought we were gonna suggest doing that. We’ve been to weddings like that. Again, a little like misgendering, no? Even in the rare cases where he gets a mind for it, he’s not at all like a typical sub.”

The badger paused.

“He doesn’t really fit in when I would hang out with other subs. One panda I met just could not wrap his mind around Mao. It was kinda funny. Irritating for him, though. I would be totally down for dressing like the female counterpart in a wedding, if it were me. I’ve pictured it both ways. Maybe even a costume change in the middle?” he waggled his eyebrows. “Or whatever my partner wanted? If a polar bear gave me any direction I’d melt under his strong paw,” his gaze unfocused, and he hummed appreciatively. “Tuxedo? Coming right up. What color? What style? White wool tunic and stole, as is customary for you big guy? I’ll match you! Usus? My Ursus. My dear ursine. Coemptio? Confarreati? Gown? Dress? You got it, my bae bear. I’m male, sure, but a lot more loosey-goosey in that way. But. It’s not me.”

He sighed romantically.

“If I understand Mao,” the lion said slowly, “in general, he’s less sentimental, at the very least in expression, so maybe it’s simply that he doesn’t get as wrapped up in it as you or I would.”

The badger shrugged.

“Also, women tend to get more excited about wedding planning. Not a hard and fast rule of course, but I think we’ve established that you and I have a lot more in common with women, so it makes sense we’d be more enamored, even if it didn’t necessarily need to be that way.”

The badger slapped his forehead. “Oh yeah, wow. How could I not think of that!” He put his paw down and gestured towards her. “I mean this whole conversation we've had a vibe and Mao has seemed the odd one out, gender wise, but I didn’t consider that.”

The badger went on, “Even without a wedding on the table, which is usually headed up by women in this part of the world, it’s often awkward in the first place for a typical guy to be in a room with all women and vice versa … so this visit has kinda been like that for him, I think. I mean, Mao’s always eager enough to go to a wedding, excited about hitting on and dancing with some ladies, and all, but that doesn’t mean he’d necessarily enjoy planning one. He might even leave it all up to you even if he was totally ready for it!”

The three femme animals spent the next few hours discussing flower arrangements, color palettes, the band of tolerant aristocracy he would invite, and who among the clan would approve enough to come. That was hard for the sister to get through, as she thought of those she loved who would refuse to give their blessing and ‘miss all the fun.’

8. Self-Acceptance

Mao threw up his hands in exasperation. “This was different than anything anybody knew of. Other clans’ elders who had wielders hurt badly were brought in to consult. We wielders can be slammed around by dragons, can be thrown into the ground and make craters, and walk away. With lesser wielders, bruises could be shrugged off and healed. But SOMEHOW, the universe had, like a homing pigeon bent on mouse’s blood, found one little chink in our armor. . . . Delicate tails aren’t resistant enough to damage to withstand direct crush force. Some of the visiting canine elders spoke of a time when groups of semi-sapient non-magical hunting dogs had their flowing, floppy ears or long tails surgically cropped to keep them from injuring themselves on hunts. To potentially avoid something like this happening again … by cave-ins, like mine, by boulders hurled by some types of dragons, even just being stepped on by a dragon big enough … Should all wielder animals, intending to fight these beasts … should every species with long tails start doing this removal with our children, they asked? With consent, of course. Like removing tonsils or primates removing the appendix? Lizards probably couldn’t do it, because their slanted gait was too dependent and their tails too heavy. So maybe just the tips? Surely the thicker parts of their tails withstand something like this? They asked. The elders of felines and canines and rodents and otters … the later they waited to dock tails in a trainee’s life, the more they would have to adjust to the missing counterbalance just as I was. They swarmed me and questioned me about it relentlessly. They were asking among themselves … What age would this terrible offered choice be appropriate?”

His green eyes widened in horror at these questions. As if he needed any more psychological stress after being temporarily crippled, he seemed to have altered the entire course of history with the way clans viewed preparation for wielder heroes.

“Inwardly, I felt like …” he once again tried to force the words out he had started before. “I felt like I was causing an implosion of the whole clan. The tranquil meditation spaces were overrun with visitors. Children still hid from me. Our elders argued over whether they should move me for the duration of my recovery, from the clan’s circle. They argued over what to do about the little ones. But didn’t I deserve to feel safe, too? Of course I was ripping everyone apart! It was what always happened when I was around! When we were all younger, and my sisters occasionally came to my defense from one another or dad, I felt it was somehow my fault they argued, too.”

Even if the elders made these new procedures for children voluntary, he would still be virtually ‘responsible’ for possibly unneeded selective surgical alteration of innocents.

“Blue says that’s common, for bullied children to feel like it’s their fault.”

He looked towards the door, probably thinking of the dog’s unruffled voice of reason.

“I try to listen to him. I try to like myself. B-but I … it seemed l-like my family w-was disintegrating because of m-m-me. And my stupid ‘mistake.’ The whole world of wielders, even! Sometimes it still does, when they visit …! Arguing over father’s treatment of me. Remember when my sister said she wasn’t sure starting arguments over lesser wielders was worth unsettling future heroes? Now imagine what I was thinking when the little ones didn’t feel safe in the circle of the clan because of me. I was drowning in self-blame and the only way I felt I could escape it was to work harder, push myself more, and get away from there.”

Could Blue even help him out of this? The lion pictured him like a seeing eye dog this time, trying for all the world to lead the black cat out of such darkness.

Bonus:

From my second story, Outnumbered. Tanya sashayed around the red-caped cat. “Hello Mittens.” “Tanya I swear if you do not stop calling me that, I’m going to use the wrong pronouns for you,” the cat threatened. “Touchy, touchy,” the tanuki tutted teasingly, but her normally chipper attitude got a dent in it. “As if that’s an even trade, anyway.” The masculine magic cat said gruffly, “Maybe not. But I’m tired of you mocking me without consequences. Just because that’s the only thing that ever gets under your skin is no fault of mine. Perky little miss.” She rolled her eyes. “So, you try to make gendering me correctly even sound derogatory. No wonder I broke up with you.” The cat’s fists tightened, but he spoke cooly. “If you can’t handle all this. I’ll just find someone who can.”

“Like the king you’re serving as a bodyguard to?” the fox-like animal said in a silken tone. “The only kind of lion with no birth mane. Are you a chaser, you dog?” “First off. No. How dare you. Targeting gender non-conforming animals may not be officially dishonorable, but as a concept, it is,” the samurai bristled, “We’re not involved, and we’re never going to be. We’re not attracted to each other, as my nose could clearly tell if he was. Second of all. Since when do you have something against dogs?” “It’s an expression.” “An expression that’s derogatory towards dogs,” the cat sneered. “I can’t imagine the blue therapist dog could be less like that. It’s like ‘sexist pig.’ The yellow pig back in Pure Heart would be crushed if he ever heard someone utter it. Yet outside that nice little paradise, it’s a common saying. King Snugglemagne is having to adjust mightily to the outside world. You may be used to it, steeped in it, but for magic’s sake, stop teasing him about it.” “Oh, a king can’t take a little hardship?” she said lazily. “Of course not, he’s been ensconced in his fancy-pants palace. Now that he has an idea of how it is for everyone else, he crumples at the slightest trouble. Sorry I can’t muster up enough energy to care.” “You should care. Given that he has the same problems you do.” “With pronouns? Puh. Since I’m a roaming outlaw,” the orange animal said flouncily, “I don’t expect either other crooks or enforcers I encounter to respect that my gender doesn’t match my body’s smell. The former doesn’t even respect the law, so why should I take that personally? And the latter are more focused on getting me behind bars. So, no, not my problem. Too much of a bother.” “If you settled down, and got a respectable job,” the cat pointed out, “Established yourself as a constant presence, people would probably collectively accept you.” She laughed derisively. “Oh no, I value my freedom far more than that, Mi-” she swallowed back the nickname. He laughed just as derisively. “I see you do value my word on the matter, though,” he said suggestively. “Are you just not as tough as you make out, or do you still harbor some feelings for me, my sweet little illusionist?”

She opened her mouth, but then shut it again.

“You slippery mirage master,” he said “you do, don’t you?”

He paused. “Hm. ‘Master,’ maybe I should say ‘Mistress’?” he amended. “There’s . . . really no good choice there,” she chuckled hesitantly. “There are ‘Head Mistresses’ at some schools in Snugglemagne’s kingdom,” the cat pointed out.

“Yes but . . . still has connotations. I don’t break the law that way,” she said, normally carefree attitude wobbling. “Even I have standards.”

“Hasn't stopped you from dangling the offer to get what you want,” he said.

She blushed.

“Yeah, word gets around,” he went on blithely as she uncomfortably gripped one of her arms. “Don't know why I should be surprised that playing with hearts isn't beneath you. But more to the point. I know you’re ultimately reasonably principled in that arena, if really flirty. You ever want to get back together, babe, the invitation is open,” he winked.

“And endure your jealous behavior again? I think not. I’ll file that away with other useless knowledge,” she said icily.

“Oh that’s not like you,” he said in a low baritone. “You’re sweet to everyone, even if they can’t catch the mocking tone sometimes.” “Not everyone’s as smart as you, cupcake.” He looked caught off guard by the compliment. “She brushed her fingers under his chin. “I guess you’ll just have to miss me.”

She somersaulted away from him, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss. He said under his breath, “As if I’d ever misgender you. You may play a lot of mind games, love, but you didn’t catch that bluff.”

Comic page: https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621837213819437056/mao-maos-specific-trigger-should-not-be First chapter of Piercing the Swordsman https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/617045879413719040/piercing-the-swordsman-chapter-1

@beesechurguer @king-himbo

#maomaosprideweek2020 #mao mao heroes of pure heart #mao mao snugglemagne #snugglemao #badgerclops #mao mao sisters #fanfiction #LGBT Pride Month #piercingtheswordsman

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gettin-bi-bi-bi · 4 years

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(NSFW) Hi! Do you think one of you could tell me the difference between a fetish, a preference, a kink, etc (if there are other terms, then those too please)? Also, are there any kinks/fetishes/preferences that are bad? I think I may have something where I am fetishizing a group of people and I feel very guilty and bad about it. It is private, just for my fantasies, but still it upsets me. Thank you!

That’s probably gonna end up being a long answer. I’ll try my best to be coherent but I guess it’s best I just write what comes to mind and if you have any more questions just send another message.

Usually a fetish is considered something that a person finds sexually arousing that is not a primary or secondary sex organ (genitals and breasts). By that definition for example you get things like “foot fetish”. Feet are not considered sexual body parts by most people and they certainly aren’t reproductive organs but for some people they trigger sexual arousal. Other people have fetishes for certain materials like rubber and find the texture of that arousing so they may dress up in latex suits. Depending on how tight or loose someone’s definition of “fetish” is they’d also group any kind of attraction to certain clothing as a fetish. How many people find nylon stockings or tuxedos or high-heels arousing? A fuck ton of people! There’s no real reason why they would evolutionary be attracted to that but it is still a common thing and if you define “fetish” as any sexual interest in features that are not sex organs then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ well... fetishes they are.

Some interpretations go as far as sorting the use of any kind of sex toy (even just a good ol’ dildo) into fetishism/kink because it’s ~sexual gratification with the use of an object~. I find that interpretation rather extreme but alas, it’s one way to look at it.

Now, why do some people have fetishes and kinks? Pfff... science pretty much has shown that to a certain degree fetishes are a very common variance in human sexuality and often develop in childhood. Either at random or through some formative experience.

There’s often the idea that kinks (especially kinks in the BDSM corner - more on that later) are always born out of trauma but that’s a misconception. Though that can sometimes be the case it doesn’t have to be. That “formative experience” which manifests in a kink can mean anything and doesn’t have to be traumatic. And whatever the reason may be for someone’s fetish/kink - there is hardly anything that is “inherently unhealthy”. There are healthy ways to engage in kink and unhealthy ones. And for some people kink is actually a way to work through a trauma.

If you want to know if there is actually a difference between the terms “fetish” and “kink” then I’d say it’s just a slight nuance. In my personal observation and experience I’d say “kink” is a wider term that can encompass anything that is not strictly vanilla genital stimulation. So that means: fetishes about certain body parts, textiles, places; role play in one way or another; BDSM ---- all of that falls under the term “kink”.

and for clarification: “vanilla” is a term to refer to sex that does not involve any kink. so you could say “vanilla” and “kinky” are opposites.

BDSM stands for bondage/discipline - Dominant/submissive - sadism/masochism. That is itself a very large field and not everyone who is into BDSM is into all of those letters. For example one might be into role play that involves dominance and submission but doesn’t like bondage. And the closer you look at it the more individual it may become. Someone who likes pain play might (probably!) not like every kind of pain. That’s why open and clear communication along with informed consent are the biggest rules in healthy kink and BDSM. It is common to agree on safe words and signs or to even discuss beforehand exactly what you want to do with your partner.

Now, I’d say to a certain degree even vanilla people might prefer either taking a more dominant role or a more submissive role during sex. But that’s usually a smaller nuance than it would be during a BDSM session. And note that not every kinky person always has kinky sex. In my opinion this is also a spectrum. How many people have tried fluffy handcuffs but wouldn’t particularily call themselves members of the BDSM community because of that? And I know that sometimes there can still be kinky vibes in the dynamic with a partner even when you don’t feel like getting out the whip collection every time.

For many kinksters this isn’t just “a way to have sex”. Many of us consider it part of our sexual identity just like one’s sexual orientation. Like: just like I cannot imagine not being bisexual, I also cannot imagine not being kinky. That’s not a choice I made but so deeply woven into my sexuality that I can’t just switch it off permanently. Not all but a lot of kinksters feel a similar way.

God, I am going on a tangent here and I really also want to get into this "guilt” that you say you have for your fantasies. Now, I don’t know what those fantasies are and you don’t have to tell me. But it is very important that you know that fantasies can hurt no one. They are in your head and nothing more. So whatever is going on there it is safe up there in your head.

Of course, if it upsets you that you have those fantasies (which may or may not be considered kinky) - try finding out where that guilt is coming from. Do you maybe experience sexual shame in general? Kink is often somehow seen as ~more sexual~ than vanilla sex which is bullshit. If anything it’s just a different kind of sexual. But still, if you aren’t really comfortable with sexuality in general (maybe bc of a conservative or religious upbringing) then obviously you’d feel even more shameful about sex acts that seem taboo or unconventional.

There is also a lot of kink-negativity on tumblr (and in certain brands of feminism and in mainstream media) so for a lot of kinky people it takes time and effort to embrace their fantasies as they are and be comfy with them - ideally to the point where they can realise them in a fulfilling way. And lack of knowledge can often make it difficult to understand one’s own fantasies and communicate those needs so in order to have a fulfillling sexuality it is vital that you educate yourself further and learn to be able to talk about these things.

Above I said that there is hardly anything that’s inherently unhealthy/toxic and I truly mean it - as long as your partner(s) consent and you all are aware of the possible risks then have fun! Of course it sucks to experience sexual shame or kink shame but you aren’t doing any harm by engaging in kink with someone who has consented to being part of that and you both take the necessary precautions to reduce potential risks. (Note: there are kinks that can never be risk free. if you wanna spank your partner there is a likely risk they’ll end up with bruises. but that doesn’t make the act of consensual spanking bad or abusive or whatever. many things in life are risky and people still consent to them willingly and enthusiastically. sports is the best example.)

You say you might “fetishise a group of people” and that could really mean anything so I can’t get into much detail when talking about that. There’s some things like oversexualisation of people of colour for example where it can definitly be a racist “fetish” that white people like to get off to because it seems ~exotic~. I would argue that that’s not a “fetish” though and the word “fetishisation” is often misused and overused, especially on tumblr. There is nothing inherently immoral to be attracted to certain physical features or to find someone attractive who belongs to a group of people (marginalised or not). However, there is a respectful way to deal with that and a disrespectful way. If you dehumanise that group to the point where you don’t give a fuck about the individual then that is very shitty. But I get the feeling that’s not the case here with you. Or... I don’t know. Can’t really know what’s going on without knowing more details.

I don’t know if I helped you in any way or opened up the floodgates for more questions. Again, feel free to ask further. You can also message me directly via my personal blog @apicturewithasmile because some things are better discussed and explained in a dialogue.

Maddie

#yes #it's 2020 and I just used a shrug emoji #shoot me #Anonymous

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kaesaaurelia · 3 years

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the pit is prepared, the fire is made ready

For @whumptober2020 day 31: Today’s Special: Torture (specifically "experiment")

This fic has a companion piece about Crowley’s angel friend here and what happened to her after the war, but you don’t need to have read that to read this.

Satan/Crowley; brief mention of an ill-fated OC / OC pairing. Content warning for body horror, abusive/toxic relationship with an enormous power differential. Also, it’s not so much that Crowley doesn’t consent to any of this, it’s that Satan doesn’t care what he wants and Crowley tells himself after the fact that This Is Fine. This is in addition to the torture implied by the prompt.

"It's not too late to stay here," Vehuel told Gadreel, and he suppressed an eye roll.

"No, no, I have to go, Lucifer wants me there," he reminded her. "I'm his favorite."

Vehuel was irritated with him, he could sense it easily. She was so ridiculously prudish about him and Lucifer, as she was about everything, as if she and Len always making eyes at each other and vanishing to take their long romantic walks around the galactic center or whatever stupid thing had been objectively less bad, somehow. At least Lucifer was interesting. He had ideas, which was more than anybody, even Vehuel, could say about Len. "I'm sure he wouldn't want you to get hurt for his sake, then," said Vehuel, snottily. "Since he likes you so much."

Gadreel suppressed his reaction to that; it wasn't Lucifer's fault he sometimes got hurt, it was only that Lucifer trusted him to do dangerous jobs and not whine about it if things got a little hairy, and she was envious of that. "I'll be fine," he said. "And besides," he added, trying to make peace, "I'd love to see the look on that wanker Gabriel's face when we storm in and take Heaven. Aren't you looking forward to that?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said, not sounding as enthusiastic as he would've hoped. "I'm just worried something bad will happen to you."

Poor Vehuel; she was always so concerned about everyone but herself. Gadreel knew things would be all right, though. It was a good thing Vehuel had him around, really, otherwise she'd never get anything done. "Besides, God told you not to worry, didn't She?" Tormenting Vehuel with that never got old; it was the only thing God had said to her, and of course, she'd worried about it a lot since then.

She snorted. "I thought we were disobeying Her now?" she asked.

"I'm just saying," he said. "Anyway, why don't you lend me some of your eyes? Then I could see trouble coming." God had run out of eyes when She was making him, so he barely had any compared to Vehuel. Well, no, he had seven at this point, but only because he'd bothered Vehuel until she'd shared her bounty of eyes with him early on in their existence.

Her halo flared, which it always did when she felt very strongly about something, and she drew her wings over herself. "I really don't want to, sorry. I'm kind of worried I won't be able to take care of myself?"

"What? No! Why?" he asked, because Vehuel had a lot of flaws, but if there was anybody who could take care of herself, it was Vehuel. She'd saved him from falling into the sun once! And she'd stopped a wayward comet from striking the Earth at the last minute, sacrificing her wings! (Then some officious bastard from Heaven had yelled at her, because it was supposed to hit the Earth, apparently, and nobody'd told them. Heaven was so useless.) And she'd always jumped between him and people who were trying to push him around, which was a little embarrassing, but also... well, it was nice, to know somebody cared that much about you. "You're bigger and meaner than me," he pointed out, "I need the eyes more."

"No, you're definitely meaner than me," she said. "Remember what you did to poor Len?"

Len had broken her heart, and he'd ruined those two gas giants, from what Vehuel told him. Of course, her account was very biased, because she still loved Len, but Gadreel could see through all that. "He deserved it! It was justice. It's not really meanness if it's deserved, is it?"

"I don't think anyone really deserves to be tied to a comet and left for a few million years until he's missed at the next all hands meeting," Vehuel said, because sometimes she wasn't any fun at all.

"Sure they do!" he said. Especially if they were Len, who had been laughing at her behind her back and making up stories about her, and Gadreel wasn't going to tell her that, but when she found out hopefully she would beat Len up and he'd be very sorry. "Anyway, you're still bigger than me."

"By a smidge, Gadreel, it won't matter if either of us has to fight -- I don't know, Michael or someone like that. Listen, how about you stay in front and I go behind you and watch out for anyone trying to sneak up. We'll work together," she said, brightly.

"Oh, fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "But you'd better pay attention." She would; he was just being an arse about it.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you!"

"You'd better not," he said. "I won't let you forget it if you do."

"I know, that's why," she said, and she shoved him. "You'll be fucking insufferable for eternity otherwise."

That, at least, was something he was great at. "I'm going to be fucking insufferable for eternity anyway," he assured her.

On the long flight to Heaven he felt her rage; her halo was bright, and you just couldn't hide feelings that strong, no matter how you tried. But he had assumed it was anger with Heaven -- against their cruelties and injustices, and the stupid rules they'd make up whenever something wasn't going their way, and how boring and bland they were -- and he'd let his anger mix with hers; a silent yes, I agree; yes, we will fix this; God made us and She will regret it because we may be small but we are clever and angry and a force to be reckoned with.

Having her behind him made him confident, and gave him the courage to launch himself at the first Heavenly angel they came upon. He knew what he was doing; knew how to disrupt the delicate balance of the archangel's gravity and collapse her in upon herself so that she couldn't attack them, and he knew with Vehuel behind him, the archangel couldn't possibly get at him first.

But then a terrible feeling -- pain -- spread across his body, before the archangel even noticed anything amiss, and Gadreel looked back, only to see Vehuel holding something long and sharp; a line of pure force. It glowed with a light that was not Lucifer's, but God's.

He stared at her; stared at the thing she held. She must have been carrying it this whole time, and it hurt, and she had used it to hurt him, and --

A seraph bumped into her, and Gadreel used the moments to gather himself together and hide from her. Had she... had she been angry at him all along? He watched her throughout the battle, keeping his distance, keeping away from her, and saw her slash at all their friends -- well, all his friends, they hadn't really liked her -- had she been envious, maybe, that he'd had other friends? Was that it? And then he saw her speeding towards Lucifer, something bright clutched in her hands, and Gadreel knew that she must hate all of them so much to put herself in danger from a fucking supernova just to kill everyone else. He sped away before the flash of heat and light, and avoided any damage, but he saw her, furious and hurting and burning as Heaven's forces dragged her off the battlefield.

Vehuel's trick with the supernova hadn't killed Lucifer, but it had cost him a lot of his forces, and Heaven -- who had been outnumbered at first, because apparently half of them were stuck in a meeting with Gabriel -- had defeated them easily after that. God, in Her infinite cruelty, had relegated them to some lower place, some other plane, which was somehow both uncomfortably chilly and unbearably hot at the same time. Gadreel lay in that place, having barely made it out of the pit of boiling sulfur. Everything hurt, and he felt bound by gravity, of all the stupid things, and the spiral of his body was unwinding as he made his way away from the lake of sulfur, pulling himself with his hands.

Gadreel could see others crawling out of the sulfur around him, and a few even still falling into the lake with horrendous splashes. "Come on, come on, get moving!" snarled somebody, and Gadreel thought she looked like one of the cherubim who'd been at some of Lucifer's meetings. He couldn't remember her name, but he was pretty sure she hadn't had scales before. It was clear she thought she was very important, on account of being a cherub, and Gadreel instantly disliked her.

Still, she seemed to know what was going on. "What's happening?" he asked. "Can you help me? I think I'm... broken," he said. Ugh, his whole core was trying to stay curled, but he'd been absolutely maimed so it was just lolling out weirdly to the side. It wasn't comfortable at all.

"No! Too much to do," she said. "And besides, that would be counterproductive. We're supposed to be being evil now," she said, sniffing.

"Evil?" The concept was foreign to Gadreel, and he waited a few moments for it to filter into his understanding. "That's stupid, though, isn't it? God kicks us out and claims to be Good so we've got to be Evil in defiance?"

"Yeah, that's right," said the cherub. Well, obviously not a cherub anymore. What was her name? Dagana, that was it. Something like that. Ugh. When had she got scales? "What's wrong with that?"

"Well, isn't it playing right into God's hands? If we really wanted to stick it to Her shouldn't we be Good?" he asked.

Maybe-Dagana scowled at him, and shoved him along with several clammy hands. He hissed in pain as the edges of his being scraped against the rough rock of the cavern. "Get moving!" she snarled. "Line starts back there!" She pointed to a line that was already forming; it looked like Gadreel had a ways to go before he could even start waiting for... whatever was happening.

People around him were chattering about names, about forms, and Gadreel had thought those things weren't supposed to matter anymore, like ranks -- or, well, they wouldn't have, had Lucifer won. Perhaps that was why they still did. They seemed pretty cheery about it on the surface, but all Gadreel could sense was other people's pain, and impatience with the line, and their anger at God. "What's this about getting a new name?" he asked the person in front of him.

"Oh, you don't know?" they said. "Satan's remaking us."

"S..." He hesitated on the sibilance. "Satan?"

"The Adversary of God! Lucifer is an old name," they informed him, cheerfully.

Gadreel didn't really like where all this new branding was headed. It seemed awfully God-reliant, and he didn't much fancy being on Team Hello, We Lost To God. Lucifer could explain it to him, though, he was certain of it. They'd probably misinterpreted everything he'd said, Gadreel decided. Lucifer had this way of making complicated things easy to understand, but unfortunately that meant sometimes the morons got it all turned around when they passed it on.

"Do you... do you want a new name?" he asked his new comrade.

"Well, why wouldn't I? God gave me this one, it's bad news. Stands to reason."

"Yeah. Yeah, no, got to get away from that rubbish," Gadreel agreed.

"Although I did hear he made somebody called Leonard keep his name," they added. "Feel a bit sorry for that poor bastard."

"Oh, Len's an arsehole, if anyone deserves to be stuck with the name God gave them it's him." He warmed to his subject, appreciating something to be furious about that he wasn't personally still wounded from. "D'you know what he did to my friend?" he asked. And then he remembered.

"What?" they asked.

"He..." Gadreel didn't have the heart. "He... Nothing. Nothing, he didn't do anything to any friends of mine. But he's a bastard, steer clear."

"Well, all right, if you say so," they said.

The line was interminable and Gadreel grew more and more miserable by the hour. Occasionally he tried to convince some of the people in front of him that he was actually Lucifer's favorite and should be allowed past them. Sure, he wasn't the only of Lucifer's favorites, but Gadreel knew he was Lucifer's favorite favorite. He could tell. Lucifer cared greatly for him, and would want to know he had survived. But they all laughed at him and told him everybody said that, and so, Gadreel stayed in the line, crawling gradually past deep pits so black it hurt to look into them, and rivers of pitch.

Finally, finally he came to the front of the line, and there was Lucifer, sitting on a throne in front of a great ocean of molten lava. He was beautiful still, but there was something... slightly off about him now. Gadreel couldn't pinpoint what it was, exactly; he didn't see any specific difference. Maybe he was imagining things. He didn't seem to be leaking light anymore, although Gadreel could see a trickle of it leading to a larger puddle, which -- oh. Which had flowed into the lava -- had maybe made the lava?

That was a lot of light he'd lost. No wonder he looked different. Gadreel felt awful now, acting like his own wounds were all that serious.

Gadreel made his way painfully to a spot at the base of the throne. "Gadreel," said Lucifer, scintillating with what looked like approval.

But it was approval Gadreel couldn't feel anymore, and he wondered if he'd done something wrong. And he realized he had; he'd vouched for Vehuel, like a gullible idiot, and --

"Come here," said Lucifer, gently, reaching out a hand large enough to encompass galaxies, and Gadreel remembered what it was to trust again. "You're very upset."

"We lost," said Gadreel. "We lost and it's --"

"Your fault. Yes, in a way," he said, cradling Gadreel.

Gadreel, who had been barely hanging onto some important pieces of himself this whole time, almost wished he had shaken apart on the way down. "I. I'm sorry."

"We all are," said Lucifer, gently. "But sorry doesn't do anything, does it? Still. I'm here to put you back together, and I'm sure you can work to --"

"Yes! To make things right!" said Gadreel.

Lucifer laughed, and it sounded wrong. "Oh no, haven't you heard?" he asked, with that sort of glimmer that meant he was going to say something that Gadreel understood, and most people did not. "We're in the business of making things wrong now." And Gadreel, for the first time, didn't understand it; there was a joke in it, somewhere, but -- "But we don't really have time to discuss all of that, do we? I'm going to have to remake you." And without waiting for an answer, he seized Gadreel by his central spiral -- the one that had been hurting him so much all this time, because it was very much not in the center of him like it was supposed to be -- and yanked.

Gadreel thought he had known pain when Vehuel had carved him up, and then he thought he'd understood pain when he fell into the pit of boiling sulfur, and in the hours after that, he'd assumed he had become used to pain, waiting in the line for Lucifer to see to his wounds, but none of that was true, it turned out, because none of that pain was in any way comparable to having your very essence pulled out and your whole self unspooled in Lucifer's hands. Lucifer chuckled to himself. "Most people scream when I do that," he said, pleasantly, as if it was a funny little joke.

Gadreel had been too startled to scream at first, and then in too much pain after to make any sort of sound, and now that Lucifer was twisting him and laying him out and tugging him this way and that, ripping him to pieces and smoothing over the rips with careful fingers digging into his being. It was all he could do to just hang onto existence.

He didn't say anything; he didn't trust himself not to say the wrong thing. Lucifer laughed again, and Gadreel realized he didn't need to say anything; Lucifer could see right through him, see everything about him. He was reminded of the times he'd communed celestially with Lucifer, and it had been -- it had been so much, he had never been able to see all of Lucifer's thoughts, but Lucifer had come away understanding him better than he understood himself. Only this time he couldn't see into Lucifer at all, and he was completely at Lucifer's mercy.

He shivered, and pain shot through him in all the places Lucifer had wrenched apart or pushed together.

"What shall I name you?" Lucifer asked, several eyes looking him over impassively. He felt strange and hollow. He felt wrong. Lucifer watched him become tangled in on himself and untied him patiently, saving him from himself. "Hmm. How about Crawly? It's very descriptive."

"Crawly," said... Crawly. It was a fitting name, he told himself. It was the right name. Lucifer, his friend and leader, had given it to him, not God the tyrant.

"I'm glad you like it," said Lucifer. He grasped Crawly around the middle and plunged him into the pool of lava in front of him, and all the pain he'd felt in the process of being remade repeated itself, but worse. He was in agonies for what felt like days, years, centuries... and then Lucifer pulled him out again and placed him gently on the ground. "I will find you when I need you, Crawly," he said, and then he was left to slither off, and Lucifer had moved on to tend to the next of his fallen army.

When Lucifer needed him next, Crawly had already been bullied into doing a lot of fetching and carrying for other people. Bigger, stronger people; mostly ones who still had limbs, and could therefore both fetch and carry more easily than Crawly. He learned many things in this period; he learned that sometimes bits of the outside of himself would slough off, but that there was more new Crawly underneath and that he wasn't actually dying. He learned that people didn't like it when he called Lucifer Lucifer, and they didn't believe him when he said he'd worked with Lucifer, or done special, important things for him. He learned, also, that God had cut them all off from Her love, which was fine, because who wanted it anyway? Several people theorized that this was why none of them could feel each others' joy anymore; several others, more morosely, suggested that perhaps they had lost the capacity for joy. But they would win it back, of course, when they overthrew God later.

Later couldn't come soon enough for Crawly; he was cold all the time, and he missed his halo.

Eventually, Lucifer found him. He looked different now; he wore the form of -- was it a human? It might be. Crawly hadn't seen the designs up close, but he'd heard them described, although the rumor mill in Heaven wasn't always very reliable. Whatever his shape, though, he was Lucifer, and it was a relief to see him again. Crawly felt a jolt of affection for Lucifer, that he should stoop to taking the form of something so weak just for fun, and he slithered up to Lucifer eagerly. "I have sssome problemsss," he said.

Lucifer bared his teeth in a way that Crawly thought was a smile. "I have some solutions! Why don't we find out if they match up with your problems?" And he picked Crawly up and wrapped him around his person, and for the first time since the war, Crawly felt safe. Safety was oddly nervewracking, but it was still such a relief to feel it.

Lucifer took him to a private, quiet place, then, and reshaped him once more, breathing him gently into a form much like his own. It hurt less than being remade, but Crawly was pretty sure he'd got something wrong about the hips, because they didn't feel very sturdy.

As soon as he mentioned that, Lucifer had insisted on testing the form out, making sure that it worked, because, he explained, he was going to be the first demon sent up to Earth to cause problems for God. Filled with pride, Crawly tried his very best; if he could do what Lucifer asked of him, maybe he could be instrumental in winning their next fight with Heaven.

The tests could be fun; Crawly found that sometimes he enjoyed the human equivalent of celestial communion, for all that it was much less overpowering than the real thing. But sometimes his human body would begin to fall apart, when Lucifer pushed him too far. Lucifer reminded him that there was value in knowing these limits; it was much better for him to know when the body would fail before taking it out into the field.

But a lot of the tests were pretty tedious, and Crawly hadn't liked them at all. Being strangled, for example, hadn't been any fun at all, and drowning had been awful. Lucifer had insisted on doing that five or six times, because he was certain he'd done something wrong with the way the lungs connected up to the mouth, but it turned out humans were just laid out very strangely. "Gabriel designed them," Crawly reminded him, and this earned him warm laughter and burning fingers threaded through his new hair, a lovely sensation, before Lucifer pushed his head under the water another time, just to be sure.

Crawly still wasn't entirely sold on this whole being evil to contradict God thing -- if they were going to be evil, it should be for its own sake, shouldn't it? -- but Lucifer had explained to him that there was going to be a rematch, another war, which they'd win handily if only they worked at doing everything they could to thwart God's plans, to weaken and demoralize Her forces and their resolve, and Crawly thought he understood it better now. So when Lucifer declared that his body was probably working well enough to head up to Earth, Crawly had been eager to get started.

"What do I do now?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Lucifer raised a gentle hand to caress Crawly's face, and Crawly was almost, not quite but almost over the shock of not feeling his affection viscerally. This touch, Crawly told himself, this gentleness... it would have to be enough, for now. "You get up there," he said, "and make some trouble."

#whumptober2020 #no.31 #today's special: torture #experiment #good omens #anthony j crowley #satan good omens #crowley x satan #body horror #abusive relationship #fiction #text #kaesa op

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vee-angel · 4 years

Text

Potty-Mouth Piper (part 3, repost)

(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)

Content Warning: The following story contains depictions of feces, flatulance, vomit, and mucus; with most being eaten. Also, just some absolutely depraved examples of hand-holding, kissing, cuddling, and heartfelt declarations of lesbian teenage love.

Also, this finishes out Chapter One of Piper’s story. Her next appearance will be when her story intersects with another member of the Pervert Pentet (Sharking Sherry, who’s one of the last two members to be introduced).

Part 3

Piper spent the next few weeks in the psych ward; Mackenzie visited as often as she was able. She couldn’t get enough of seeing Piper’s face light up every time she saw her. She had even scouted some nearby stores to see if she could find the same puzzle that Piper had been working on when she first visited her in the hospital. When she finally found it and presented the gift, Piper seemed so touched that she actually held back tears. The green-haired filth-fetishist was smiling ear to ear as they were finally able to complete the puzzle together.

“Together” may be an overstatement. In truth, Piper did well over ninety percent of it, mostly while explaining the geometry of irregular tessellations in jigsaw puzzles and something about how the pieces could be categorized by pattern… or something. Mackenzie honestly couldn’t follow when she started going on about things like that, but she loved seeing how happy it made her to have someone who actually listened to her ramblings. She learned a lot about Piper in those few weeks; one of the most surprising things is that the mohawked, foul-mouth punk was really, REALLY smart.

It took a few awkward conversations for Mackenzie to get her parents to believe that she kept visiting because she just sincerely liked Piper. They weren’t the type to pry much, but at first it seemed like they believed that she felt sorry for the green-haired girl, or that it was part of her learning to forgive Piper for what had happened during the school assembly. She had to be clear that she really just thought Piper was interesting and sweet, and that despite her “behavioral problems” she might want to start dating her once she was released from the mental hospital.

When that day finally came, Mackenzie wanted to spend every moment with her and finally get a chance to do more than talk with her in the visiting room of a hospital. Unfortunately, Piper explained that she wanted some time to smooth things over with her mom, first. A few agonizingly long days later, Mackenzie finally got a text saying that Piper’s mom was okay with them having a sleepover! She still felt like this was all some kind of fantasy! As if all the disgusting porn she’d watched online over the last few years congealed into this perfectly vulgar woman who was too good, too dirty, too pretty to be real. There were even times where she considered that maybe she was spending so much time in a mental hospital because Piper was a delusion, a fantasy she made up to help the shy girl act out all of her obscene secret desires.

But as she approached the brick ranch-style house where Piper lived, she knew it was all real. She walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, her heart racing with anticipation. Her tension grew a bit when she saw that it was Piper’s mother who answered the door. She had heard mostly good things about Miss Lindeholm, but she couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated now that she knew she was a professional dominatrix.

Mackenzie was invited inside where she barely had time to set down her overnight bag before she saw a grinning Piper barreling toward her. Their chests collided as she threw her arms around her and squeezed. Mackenzie couldn’t help but giggle at the unrestrained eagerness. She returned the hug and couldn’t keep her heart from fluttering as her hands touched Piper’s bare skin. She wore a threadbare black tank top that had been cut off at the bottom of her ribs and a plaid mini-skirt. At the hospital, they hadn’t been permitted to touch very much, and the pajama-like outfit almost made her forget how delicately slender Piper’s body was. If she were a couple inches taller, she could have been a runway model.

Piper’s mom watched with a slight smirk for several seconds as the two girls embraced. “All right, you’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’d like to talk to Mackenzie now. Please give us the room, Piper.” Her tone seemed pleasant, but firm. Though that didn’t do much to assuage Mackenzie’s nervousness.

As they reluctantly pulled away from each other, Mackenzie caught Piper’s eyes. The worried expression on her face prompted Piper to explain, “No, it’s cool. My mom’s rad as fuck. She just wants to make sure I’m not, like, blackmailing you with pictures of you sucking a dog’s dick or something.”

“What?? Oh! Oh gosh, no.” She turned to the older woman, “No, it’s nothing like that, Ma’am. I really, really like Piper.”

“All the same, I’d like Piper to excuse us so that we can talk.” Miss Lindeholm led Mackenzie to a sleek looking leather and metal couch in the living room that faced a glass coffee table. A slightly dejected Piper made her way to what looked like the kitchen.

Mackenzie sat next to the professionally dressed blonde woman. “I sense you’re nervous, Mackenzie,” she began in a kind voice as she took her hand, “but I promise you that you’re safe. If my daughter has said or done anything to compel you to come here or to have a relationship with her, you can tell me and I’ll protect you.” There was something about her that almost immediately instilled trust, there was an effortless confidence that was also nurturing. Mackenzie supposed that was part of what made her a good dominatrix.

She took a deep breath to try to still her nerves before responding. “I really, really, REALLY like your daughter, Ma’am. I… Well I guess I’ve only ever told her this, but umm, I fantasized about things like this a lot for a long time before I met Piper. And I would look at… umm… ya know… scat porn.” Mackenzie’s face scrunched up and turned beet red for a moment as she realized that she’d just told her friend’s mom that she’d been looking at scat porn on the internet for years. She tried to power through it, “So, Piper is just sort of like all my… fetishes, and everything else I ever fantasized about. All put together.”

There was a momentary pause before Piper’s mom spoke, “Okay. I’m very happy to hear that, Mackenzie. To be honest, I was skeptical that the things Piper was telling me about you were true. She almost never lies, but she also can’t tell when other people are lying to her. So a part of me was worried that you were playing a trick on her. But I’m very relieved by what you’ve told me. Piper has mentioned to you that I’m a sex-worker, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am. She said you’re a professional mistress?”

“That’s right. I get the sense that you feel hesitant in talking about your fetishes, but I want you to know that you won’t be judged in this household for any of those feelings. It’s okay to be sexually aroused by touching or eating shit, or watching others touch or eat shit. It’s actually a lot more common than most people would believe. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

Mackenzie thought for a moment about what she’d just heard. Obviously no one had ever said that to her before, as she was only the second person to even know about her fetish, but she’d also never had anyone tell her that it was okay. She never thought of herself as someone who held a lot of shame for her kink, yet somehow, it was as if she felt the release of a huge burden that she didn’t even know she was carrying. After briefly getting lost in thought, she realized that Miss Lindeholm was still sitting there waiting for a response. “No, Ma’am.” she took a deep breath to steady her resolve and then released it, “Miss Lindeholm, it really turns me on watching girls eat poop. And I want to eat poop, too… because I think it’s a really sexy thing to do.” She let out a tiny giggle after she finished her admission. “I can’t believe I really said that to you! It actually feels really…relieving, I guess!”

“I’m glad. Being able to communicate about what turns you on is important. And so is consent. If you’re going to have a relationship with my daughter, I want to talk to you about some things. Given the things Piper likes to do, there’s a bit of a unique ‘sex talk’ that’s specific for her.

“But first, the basics: Remember that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Anything you do with a partner should be because you both want to be doing it. Now relationships are complex, and consent is complex. But a good rule of thumb is that ‘no’ means no, ‘maybe’ means no, and only ‘fuck yes’ means yes. What that means is that you should both be enthusiastic about the sex acts you engage in. If you perform certain activities solely because the other person wants you to, it eventually causes problems in your relationship. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Now getting into specifics: First, Eating feces runs a high risk of making you sick at first. It is possible for your digestive system to adapt, god knows Piper is evidence of that, but if you choose to engage in that fetish, you should go slowly at first. I’ve left a bottle of medicine in Piper’s room to help minimize the chance of you becoming ill, you should take one every twelve hours for a couple of days, even if you don’t feel like anything is wrong. Second, urine is mostly safe to drink, but keep in mind that your body will be filtering it a second time when you swallow it. So as sexy as you might find it to only drink each others piss, over time it can put an unhealthy strain on your kidneys.

“So to sum up, you can drink piss every day, but you still need to drink real water to stay healthy. And you can work up to eating shit every day, but you need to be careful, and you’ll still need real food. Do you have any questions, Mackenzie?”

She sat for a moment taking it all in. While the brief lecture from a women she barely knew was, without a doubt, unfathomably awkward, Mackenzie also found it really helpful. Not only because of the information, but because of the assurance that while she was in this house, she could feel like she was normal. This woman had explained the risks of trying to drink nothing but Piper’s piss with more comfort and ease than her own mother did when she explained why she shouldn’t flush tampons. “No, Ma’am. No questions. Umm, thank you for all that, though. Can I see Piper now?”

She released Mackenzie’s hand that she’d been gently cradling through the conversation and gave a small nod. As she stood up, she saw Piper eagerly stride into the room; apparently she’d been eavesdropping the whole time. “Okay, cool. So I made dinner for you and me. My mom doesn’t like when I make food for her because I always put the food in my ass first, but you said that’s something you wanted to try?”

“Yes!” Mackenzie replied enthusiastically. Piper took her gently by the wrist and led her into the kitchen. She was increasingly noticing that Piper’s home had a very sterile, modern look to it. Best she could tell, her mom ordered all their home furnishings from a Sharper Image catalogue.

The two of them finally came to be in front of a large bowl of green goo that had been set on the marble countertop. Next to it was a enormous tube with a plunger that Mackenzie recognized from her videos as an enema syringe. “So I made us split pea soup. It looks gross as shit, but it tastes really good. Also, it makes you fart a lot. I thought about squirting it up my asshole before you came over, but I figured you’d probably want to watch that part. Oh! And it’s vegetarian.”

Mackenzie had revealed that her family didn’t eat meat during their conversations at the hospital over the last few weeks, so she appreciated the consideration. In fact, she was impressed with the amount of thought Piper had put into everything. She gave an joyful nod of approval and then watched Piper suck up a large quantity of the bright green sludge into the enema syringe.

“Here.” Piper said with a confident smile as she handed the large tube to Mackenzie. For a moment, Mackenzie almost looked confused. Piper smirked and gave a confident shrug, “Figured you’d want to do the honors and fill up my fart-hole.”

Mackenzie gasped gently in awe, and then nodded her head excitedly. Piper leaned over onto the counter and flipped up the back of her skirt. She used one hand to pull her ass apart, but in truth it was unnecessary; while Piper’s ass had a pleasant roundness to it, the long, lean girl’s butt was rather small, and her cheeks readily parted to reveal her little pink anus and shaved vulva as soon as she bent past forty-five degrees.

“You don’t have to do anything special, just stick the end in and push that part on top down slowly.” Mackenzie nodded in response to Piper’s instructions. She took a deep breath and lined up the tip of the big acrylic tube. She pushed and felt Piper’s asshole give minimal resistance; the actual tip was about two inches long, and once it was all the way in, she noticed the girl’s sphincter clench around it to create a tight seal. As Mackenzie began to push down the plunger, she considered how practiced Piper must be at this. After all, she was so dedicated to ass to mouth that she had it tattooed on the side of her head. Though the tattoos had recently become slightly obscured by the yellow stubble that had grown during her stay in the psych ward.

“Do you really do this with everything you eat?” Mackenzie asked as she gingerly pumped the tasty green slurry into her friend’s bowels.

“Well with soup and stew and that kinda shit, yeah,” she began casually, as if she weren’t actively receiving a warm pea-soup enema from a conservatively dressed teen redhead, “Other stuff I just need to make sure it’s dick-shaped like baguettes or wraps or carrots. And there are things you can kinda stuff up there like french fries or scrambled eggs, and big things like pizza I just tear into pieces and shove up my ass a piece at a time.”

“Wow.” She had talked to Piper about her compulsion to only ever eat things that had been inside someone’s asshole (normally her own, purely out of convenience), but that had been so abstract before now. “Why…” she began the question hesitantly, “I mean, why do you do it?”

“Uhh, because I’m fuckin’ awesome?” Mackenzie giggled girlishly at Piper’s response.

“I think it’s empty now.” she noted as she finished emptying their soon to be dinner up the girl’s shitter.

“Okay, pull it out slowly.” Piper’s asshole immediately clenched shut to trap the liquid inside her as Mackenzie withdrew the enema syringe. She stood up and began massaging her slightly distended abdomen. “Seriously, though, I had the idea a long time ago, and I think I’m probably the only person in the world who does this. I mean, if you read fantasies about people being full toilet slaves, there’s a bunch of people who fantasize about eating nothing but shit for their whole lives. But it’s not medically possible; there are things your body needs and doesn’t excrete, so if you only eat shit you eventually end up with serious nutritional deficiencies. But if I do it this way, then even if I’m not always eating shit, I’m always eating something that someone shit out of their ass.”

“So… you’re kinda like the number one scat-girl in the whole world?” Mackenzie asked, excitement slightly overtaking her timid manner.

“Fuckin’ awesome, right??”

“Totally awesome.” She replied as Piper placed a green bowl on the floor and squatted over it. Mackenzie was transfixed as she watched her friend skillfully dispense the thick green soup from her asshole. She’d watched plenty of videos of girls getting food enemas (milk or whipped cream seemed most common), normally it would come out in squirts and sputters, but Piper may as well have been a mechanical food dispenser as smoothly as she plopped the ass-slime into the bowl. It just reinforced the idea that Piper was a queen of filth; the girls in videos only did those kinds of things for porn. But Piper did them every day.

The first bowl was full and she clenched her hole briefly as she switched to the second bowl. She repeated the process of dispensing split pea soup with a wet plopping sound. It only took about thirty seconds for her to fill both. She kept her legs wide as she stood almost all the way up into a half-squat. She grabbed a paper towel and began to move it toward her backside to clean the last residue of the green goo.

“Wait!” Mackenzie shouted, probably too loudly, while grabbing Piper’s wrist. “Can I…? I mean…can we use my tongue to be toilet paper… for you?” She was embarrassed by the awkward phrasing, but she was proud of herself for being bold enough to ask.

Piper nodded with surprise and approval, before bending forward to grab her ankles. Mackenzie hesitantly squatted down behind her, staring at the few specks of green still sticking to her anal ring. She finally stuck out her tongue and launched her face at Piper’s butt. She almost knocked the skinny girl off balance with her eagerness, but grabbed onto the front of her hips to steady her. She gave one long, hard lick from the back of Piper’s pussy all the way to the top of her ass-crack. She swallowed hard with a tight-lipped grin as the other girl turned around to face her.

“You make really good toilet paper.” For a moment, Piper’s big grin seemed almost coy. Anyone looking at the two young women at that moment would know that they were lovestruck, in that special and charmingly awkward way that only teenagers can be.

Piper picked up the two bowls before spending a few moments getting lost in Mackenzie’s cerulean-blue eyes. She took a quick breath and let it out sharply to focus herself before handing a bowl to Mackenzie. “Okay, we should go to the dining room. My mom’s probably getting tired of waiting.”

She handed one of the bowls to Mackenzie and the two of them headed into the next room where Piper’s mother sat patiently at the head of a rectangular table in front of what appeared to be a chef’s salad that had been prepared by a high-end food delivery service.

“Sorry we took so long, Mom.” Piper said as the she and Mackenzie sat next to each other at one side of the table.

“It’s perfectly all right. Mackenzie is experiencing a lot of new things, and there’s no need to rush her.” She picked up her fork and stabbed the salad a few times, collecting the different elements into a single bite. Piper dipped her spoon into the butthole-flavored soup that had been freshly prepared.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness as Mackenzie bowed her head and clasped her hands, briefly whispering a quick prayer of gratitude before eating. When she opened her eyes, she could tell by the slightly uncomfortable smiles that her dining companions were unaccustomed to the ritual. She couldn’t honestly blame them; a sex-worker and a lesbian scatgirl no doubt had experiences where they’d run afoul of some of the less progressive followers of Christ.

“So how did you become a professional mistress, Miss Lindeholm?” Mackenzie asked to break the tension. She reverently brought the first spoon-full of pea-soup to her mouth as the older woman began to answer.

“Well, hmm, where to begin.” she mused to herself briefly. “My family moved here from Sweden just before I started high-school. Being a tall, pretty blonde with a foreign accent meant that I became something of an obsession for the boys at school. Even at that age, I could tell that I was more of a fetish for them, so rather than ending up with a boyfriend, my interactions were more… transactional.”

“Transactional?” Mackenzie thought she knew what the word meant, but she wanted to be sure.

“It means that we were each trading things we wanted from the other, dear. I would get gifts and favors, and the boys would get what they wanted. As an example, the going rate was five dollars to flash my breasts for five seconds.” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“That’s… like a dollar a second!”

Piper’s mom flashed an amused grin at the shy redheads excitement. “Eventually they started doing bigger and bigger things for me and expecting more in return, which is how I ended up pregnant with Piper my Junior year. My parents were furious but they couldn’t disown me while I was a minor, so they kicked me and Piper out of the house when I turned eighteen. Piper was almost two at the time. We were briefly homeless, and the only way I knew how to make money was to let boys pay to do what they wanted with my body. It was… difficult for a few years but I kept working until I could charge more and more.. Eventually I trained to be a pro-domme, and now I run my own dungeon where I make a lot of money, and I get to tell everyone else what to do.” She finished her story with a proud smile.

“Wow!” was all Mackenzie said. She had been so obsessed with Piper, she had hardly taken the time to appreciate what an impressive woman her mother was. And beautiful, too. The golden-haired scandinavian beauty should be around thirty-five by Mackenzie’s math, but she had a timeless quality that could easily have allowed her to pass for ten years younger.

She turned her focus to the bowl of food that she’d been absentmindedly slurping as she listened to Miss Lindeholm’s brief recap of her life, taking the time to really enjoy the flavor. It was good! Comfortingly warm with all the right spices in subtle combinations, and a slightly earthy flavor that she suspected (hoped) came from its brief time inside Piper’s ass.

“What about your parents, Mackenzie. What do they do?”

She briefly glanced over to see Piper smiling widely as she ate, she seemed happy to see her two favorite women bonding with one another. She turned back, “Well, my father writes early chapter books for elementary and middle-school kids. He does a lot of ‘choose-your-own-adventure’ stories, ‘cus he says that if people learn how to make decisions when they’re young, they’ll be better at it when they grow up.”

“And that’s how your parents raised you?” she asked as she popped another mouthful of the crisp salad into her mouth.

“Mhm! My parents always tried to let me make my own decisions. I guess that’s why I never really went through a rebellious phase. Oh, and my mom does arts and crafts. She sews and knits and crochets, she even draws and paints sometimes, too. She illustrated a couple of my dad’s books, and she makes most of my clothes. She’s kind of a workaholic.”

Around that time she heard Piper reaching the bottom of her soup. She hadn’t said much, but she seemed content, if slightly eager to move the evening toward the fun part.

Mackenzie, sensing Piper’s eagerness, rushed to finish her own soup. Piper finally spoke up, “Okay, mom. We’re done, can we be excused now?”

“Oh, but I’m having such a nice time talking with your new friend.” her mom teased. “We have ice-cream for dessert, you know.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.” Mackenzie interjected.

Piper’s eyes widened, “Wait, really??”

“Yeah?”

“Well, like, does it hurt you, or are you just like… PPFFFTTT!!” Piper ended her sentence by making a vulgar, simulated fart noise with her mouth.

Mackenzie blushed for a moment, finally grasping the reason for Piper’s excitement. She looked up to catch Piper’s expectant gaze. “We should have ice cream.” she giggled.

“Can we have dessert in my room, Mom? Please?” Piper pleaded.

Miss Lindeholm sighed with a smile, knowing there was no point in trying to keep the scat-addicted lesbian love-birds apart. “Okay, sweetheart. Just keep everything contained to your room.”

Piper leapt up from her chair and ran to the kitchen. She returned a moment later holding a pint of ice-cream and a spoon before she grabbed Mackenzie by the wrist and pulled her excitedly down the hall.

The happy duo reached the threshold of the bedroom, but Mackenzie felt her foot catch on something in the doorway. They tripped and she tumbled to the floor on top of Piper. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

The two of them stood up, realizing that maybe they should tone down their excitement just a tad. “It was my fault,” Piper began with a contrite smile, “I forgot to warn you about the edge. I always used to think that if I ever had someone over that I should remember to tell them that it’s a tripping hazard, and now I finally have someone here and I forgot.”

Mackenzie looked down to see what she’d tripped over, and realized that there was a lip coming up about two inches separating the floor of Piper’s room from the rest of the house. Furthermore, while most of the house was floored with an elegant grey carpet, Piper’s room seemed to be lined with a sturdy, off-white linoleum. The furniture, she realized, was all either on legs, or raised a few inches off the ground with risers. “Do you…” she began piecing together the reason for the odd decor, “pee and poop on the floor?”

“Not just on the floor!” Piper responded excitedly as she motioned over to the bed, placing the ice-cream on a nightstand. “Feel it.” she said, offering a piece of what appeared to be oddly thick black sheets. Upon examining the material, she realized that it felt somewhat like a wet-suit. The mattress covering and pillowcases seemed to all be made of the same soft, yet waterproof material.

Every time Mackenzie thought she had a grasp on the intensity of Piper’s filth fetish, she showed her a new dimension. This, she thought, truly takes the cake. Piper’s entire bedroom was designed to be used as a toilet!

She almost couldn’t conceive of someone whose life was that dedicated to a filth fetish. She couldn’t believe that Piper’s mom had been so accepting! This actually required pretty major renovations of the house!

“Oh, and check this out.” Piper continued as she opened a door that Mackenzie had previously assumed was a closet, “Ta-da! Private bathroom.” She looked inside to see a sink and bathtub, but where she expected the toilet to go was a stacked washer/dryer combo. There also seemed to be an industrial wet-vac against one wall. “My mom doesn’t like me making a mess in the rest of the house, so she made it so that I can do whatever I want in here as long as I keep the door closed, and I clean up after myself.”

“This…is incredible.” Mackenzie was awed. Before she met Piper, she’d always fantasized about dating the type of vulgar, filthy women that made scat porn, but Piper was definitely not that kind of woman. She was so far beyond them.

“Oh! Before I forget…” Piper hopped over to the dresser beside the door from which they entered and opened the bottom drawer. It was empty. “I cleared this out, so you could have a place to put your stuff when you come over. I made it the bottom drawer so I could look at your butthole when you bend over to get stuff out of it. I mean, if you’re naked in here. Which I usually am. But you don’t have to be if you don’t want to. Redheads usually have really pretty buttholes, so I hope I get to see yours.”

Mackenzie had learned that Piper had a tendency to announce her inappropriate thoughts aloud, and also that she never acted like they were inappropriate. Somehow it always made her feel like she could be liberated from her shyness. At one point, she actually spent a few hours one evening trying to think of something she could realistically say or do in front of Piper that might incur her disapproval. Despite her best efforts, nothing came to mind.

“Okay, well… I think I left my overnight bag in the other room. I’m gonna go get that. And, I mean, if you want to get naked while I do that, it would… make my pussy really wet?” Mackenzie attempted to mirror Piper’s obscenely inappropriate manner, but it didn’t quite suit her just yet.

She headed back toward the front door where she’d dropped her bag, and returned a few seconds later to find the skinny girl proudly displaying all ninety-six pounds of her shaved five-foot-seven frame.

There was a brief pause as Mackenzie felt overwhelmed by the sight before her. She didn’t know if it was love, or lust, or simple adoration; she just knew that she was so thankful that Piper was hers for that moment. She tossed her bag in the drawer as she strode forward with a burning passion. Her arms coiled around the naked girl and their lips met in unbridled intensity. A moment later they were on the bed, Piper beneath her with legs wrapped around the redhead’s hips. Mackenzie’s tongue forcefully pushed its way into Piper’s mouth, an invasion that she welcomed happily, judging by the little moan that escaped her throat. A few seconds later Piper’s tongue pushed back. Meanwhile, Mackenzie’s hands were running over the soft pink flesh beneath her, kneading and groping her tiny breasts, feeling the ribs just beneath her skin, down to the serpentine, writhing muscles of her waist, then sliding around to dig her fingers into a firm handful of Piper’s soft, little ass.

Eventually, the two of them needed to come up for air. They breathed heavily and stared at each other from inches away, both still happily imprisoned in a cage of one another’s limbs. “Wow,” Piper said, “You’re a really good kisser.”

“Thanks.”

“Did I do okay?”

“You’re amazing.” Mackenzie replied.

“Oh good. ‘Cuz I’ve kinda never done that before.”

Mackenzie’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Piper, was that your first kiss???”

She blushed a little bit while smiling. Then nodded.

“But… You’ve had sex!”

Piper looked away with a shy grin, “I mean, only with dudes and like a couple of dogs. And I’m super gay, so I only do that kinda shit because it’s gross and I like saving the cock-snot in my ass for later. But, I’ve never been with a girl before, and… nobody ever wanted to kiss me before.”

“So, you’re kinda like a virgin? With girls at least.”

“I guess.” Piper replied, “What about you?”

Mackenzie shook her head while wearing an uncharacteristically cocky smile. “Nope! Church camp when I was sixteen, and I dated a girl for a couple months last year before we moved here.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a slut.” Piper teased, her words dripping with sarcasm, “In that case, we better keep this on the downlow, I can’t be seen running around with women of low morals, I’ve got my reputation as a good-girl to maintain!” She punctuated the end of her sentence by cocking her hips and releasing a deep, rumbling fart that turned to a wet squeak just at the end.

The two girls burst out laughing and untangled from one another’s arms. “We should close the door if we’re going to be doing that kinda thing, right?” Mackenzie asked, remembering that Piper’s mom went to great lengths to keep the various messes and smells contained in Piper’s bedroom. Piper nodded.

Mackenzie hopped up and shut the door. She turned back to Piper. For a brief moment, she tried to think of some clever or flirty way to say she wanted take her clothes off, but “I’m going to get naked now, okay?” Was all she came up with.

“Okay!” Piper replied, hopping up to a cross-legged position so she could watch. Mackenzie always felt awkward about talking to people, but oddly she never experienced bashfulness when it came to her body. So when Piper treated her undressing as though it was a performance, she was flattered, rather than embarrassed.

She stood in the middle of the room between the bed and the dresser. She grasped the bottom of her yellow knit sweater and peeled that off before placing it in the empty drawer next to her bag. She undid the buttons of her undershirt and dropped it in the drawer as well. She elected not to wear a bra to the sleepover. Despite being a full C-cup nearing a D, her teenaged breasts were still extremely perky. In fact, she considered them possibly her best physical feature. She paused a few moments to give Piper the opportunity to stare at her now naked tits.

She took off her sneakers and socks next. She tried to figure out a sexy way to do that, but after almost falling on her ass twice in the attempt, she decided to just bend over and take them off normally.

“Hey, do you not shave?” Piper asked suddenly. Mackenzie had just finished taking off her shoes and socks, and realized that Piper must have gotten a glimpse of her underarms in the process. Mackenzie always dressed rather conservatively, and what little body-hair she had was extremely fine and light. So she rarely made the effort to remove it. In fact, even though she often wore shorts or knee-length skirts, she’d never had anyone comment on the imperceptible amount of peach-fuzz that adorned her legs. But her armpits did have a small patch of fine, strawberry blonde hair that was noticeable to anyone looking closely. And Piper was looking closely.

“I don’t usually bother. But I can if you want me to. I actually brought a razor just in case. I wasn’t sure what you liked, since I know that you shave everything.”

“It’s cute, don’t shave it!” Piper replied.

She smiled and continued to strip, undoing her flowy ankle-length skirt and letting it fall to the floor. She had worn her cutest pair of white cotton panties with a little pink bow at the top. But she hooked her thumbs in the waist and dropped those to the floor as well.

Mackenzie took a step forward, naked as the day she was born. Her long red hair hung flatly down her back. That and the patch of dark auburn pubic hair were the only splashes of color upon the marble-white canvas of her skin. Her first girlfriend had once commented that her body looked just like the Venus de Milo. At the time, the resemblance was almost uncanny, but her tits had grown a bit since then.

She laughed slightly as she watched Piper’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. She turned around to give her a good look at her backside before bending over to pick up her skirt and underwear so that she could put them in the drawer. Her stance was wide as she bent forward, neatly folding and organizing the pile of clothing she’d dumped. She remembered Piper’s comment about wanting to look at her butthole, and wanted to make sure she had an opportunity to get a good, long look.

Finally she turned around to see the green-haired girl looking a bit awestruck. Piper swallowed before speaking “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Did you know? I feel like someone should have told you. That you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, I mean.”

Mackenzie smiled and blushed, but there was no hint of joking or sarcasm from Piper. Her words were dead-serious, that made Mackenzie blush even more. She took a few steps forward and crawled onto the bed next to her. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Whatever you want to do is cool with me. We can do anything. I’ll… do anything for you.” Piper’s reply sounded almost like she was intimidated. Mackenzie wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Did she really think she was that beautiful? She knew she had a nice body, but she’d always considered herself rather plain looking. One thing was for certain though. Piper was every bit as in love with Mackenzie as Mackenzie was with Piper.

“Seriously,” Mackenzie began, taking the lead, “You said you’ve never had a girl in your room. What’s something you always fantasized about doing in here?”

“Well,” she swallowed nervously, “I guess I always had this fantasy of being with a girl where we just… I don’t know how to describe it, but sort of like…ignored grossness, I guess? Like if we were watching a movie and cuddling, and one of us needed to take a piss, we’d just do it like it’s no big deal. Or if I’m eating your pussy and you need to fart or take a dump, you just do it like it’s nothing, you don’t even ask or say anything. Or if we’re both eating ice cream together and- Oh shit! We still have ice cream, I almost forgot!” She quickly grabbed the thawing pint of ice-cream and the spoon and placed it between them on the bed. “If we’re eating ice cream and you need to blow your nose, you can just, like, blow snot into the ice cream and we both just keep eating it like we don’t care. Is that… something you’d be into?”

Mackenzie’s realized that the two of them were negotiating consent, and her mind flashed back to the little lecture Piper’s mother had given her earlier about that topic. She wanted to be absolutely clear in her enthusiasm. “Fuck yes I’m into that, Piper. Let’s do that!”

“You know, you hide it well, but you’re a seriously bad-ass bitch, aren’t you?” Piper opened the lid of the vanilla bean ice cream and scooped a dollop from the thawed bit around the edges onto the spoon and offered it to Mackenzie. She opened her mouth to allow Piper to feed her and pursed her lips as she withdrew the utensil. Piper then took a second scoop and ate it herself.

“It’s really good.” Mackenzie commented before an observation dawned on her, “Hey! Wait a second! How come you’re eating that? It hasn’t been in your butt.”

“Yeah it has. See? Green sticker.” Piper turned the container to show her. “That’s how we label stuff that’s mine. Sorry if there are ice crystals in it, it’s dangerous to get an enema with stuff that’s really cold, so I had to thaw it all the way and refreeze it.”

“That’s okay. So green is your favorite color, huh?” Mackenzie asked as the pair of them casually shared a pint of ice-cream that had been squirted out of Piper’s shitter at some indeterminate point in the past.

“Yeah, it’s versatile. I mean, it’s the color of boogers and slime and puke, but green is also, like, the color of nature and money and all this good stuff, too. Brown’s the same way; people think of it like a gross color because their shit’s brown, but so is chocolate and coffee, and soil, and wood, and a lot of really hot girls. So I guess I like green and brown because they’re really pretty colors, but they’re underrated or something, I dunno.”

“And they’re the colors of your eyes.” Mackenzie observed. Back when their relationship was across the table in the psych ward, Mackenzie noticed that Piper’s eyes were different colors. Once they had both worked up the courage to make eye contact with one another, that is. Heterochromia. She’d memorized the word. Piper had one green eye and one brown; though the obscene girl joked that she had a second ‘brown eye,’ before displaying her anus and farting loudly. The hospital workers didn’t approve of the display at the time, but it made Mackenzie giggle, and that was all that mattered to Piper.

Mackenzie felt the dairy-based confection stimulating her mucus production, so she gently took the container from Piper, used a finger to block off one of her nostrils, and with a firm exhalation, shot a large wad of clearish-yellow slime from her nose onto the top of the ice-cream. She took the spoon, and scooped a large measure of the desert, topped with her snot, and popped it casually into Piper’s mouth.

She swallowed with a tight-lipped grin. “That was perfect!” Piper whispered intensely. “I know the whole point is to kinda ignore it, but seriously, that was exactly the way it is in my fantasies. I’m fucking it up now. I’m gonna go back to pretending it’s not a big deal. Do you want to watch something on tv?”

Mackenzie giggled, “Sure!”

She took the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television that sat on top of the dresser. She placed the remote back and picked up a small laptop. It was the only piece of computer equipment in the room outside the large shrine of high-end electronics that had been portioned off by a set of plastic shower-curtains in the corner to the right of the bed. She’d gotten to know Piper well enough to know that when she wasn’t talking about sex and filth, she was talking about computers. That or Alan Turing, whom she idolized and about whom she seemed to know an extraordinary amount.

“Do you want to watch scat porn or anything, or should we just put on something normal?”

“Let’s go with something funny we can just have on in the background while we hang out.” Mackenzie replied.

Piper used the laptop interface to put on a late 2000’s comedy show that they half-watched as they finished the vanilla bean and punk-girl-asshole flavored desert. About ten minutes later, the two naked girls were watching tv and spooning when they heard a grumbling bit of commotion coming from Mackenzie’s gut. Piper, who was being the big spoon at the time, moved her hand down to her tummy and rubbed lovingly.

The red haired girl emitted a whining moan of discomfort. The ice-cream really was making her bowels cramp up. This would be about the time she’d normally go and spend the next half-hour sitting on the toilet, but she felt a certain sense of freedom knowing that her digestive troubles wouldn’t have to interrupt the sleepover. Nor would she have to worry about her legs falling asleep from sitting on the toilet for too long. She managed to let out a small, barely audible bit of gas that did nothing to relieve the pressure, but she could feel her guts churning. There was definitely more coming any minute. Piper could tell, too, as she pulled closer. She pressed the front of her naked hips into Mackenzie’s ass. Her legs were fidgeting a bit, as though she was turned on, which she most likely was. About a minute later she felt a pressure inside her colon. It felt a bit like the fart, but she could tell it was more substantial this time. She let loose with wanton abandon and there was a bit of wet sputtering that was slightly muffled by the barrier of flesh formed by the two women pressed together. She could tell that a few wet chunks of shit had exploded out of her ass and hit Piper in the pussy. A moment later, the bulk of her diarrhea began to erupt. The satiny-wet sound of soft shit correlated with the hot muddy feeling that coated her buttocks and Piper’s crotch. The whole ordeal ended with a few last bits of popping flatulence. Piper responded by moaning gently and kissing her on the neck. Then they went back to watching tv and cuddling, ignoring the hot puddle of feces that was spreading across the bed beneath them.

The bowel movement relieved the discomfort, but she knew from experience that the process would repeat at least a couple more times before her digestive system would be a hundred percent again. She decided she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. “Hey, Piper. Do you want to lick my pussy?”

“Fuck yeah I do.”

“Okay, you stay there, I’m gonna spin around.” she said. Piper’s eyes lit up. She realized what Mackenzie intended. She was going to maneuver onto the top of a sixty-nine position so that she could shit directly onto Piper’s face as she ate her out. She considered that this might be the first time Piper actually got to experience that. Mackenzie herself got to have the experience of a pretty girl shitting on her face at school a few weeks before, and while she lamented the time Piper had spent institutionalized because of it, she had to admit that it was an exhilaratingly decadent experience.

Mackenzie found herself thinking how unexpected it was that she seemed to be falling a bit into the dominant role with Piper; even more unexpected was the fact that the virginal seeming Christian girl was actually more experienced when it came to lesbian sex.

She felt Piper’s tongue immediately attack her pussy the moment she was in position. There were still some brown streaks caking her ass, but her auburn-haired crotch was still mostly clean. Piper’s cunt, Mackenzie noted as she looked down on it, was a different story. It was still dripping with her excrement. The liquid butt-mud having collected so heavily between her legs that her hairless little slit wasn’t even visible. She wasn’t quite ready to wade through her own filth in order to please Piper orally, and she was becoming distracted by another round of slightly painful clenching in her bowels. She tried to watch tv as Piper’s tongue invaded her cunt, nose pressed firmly against her shitty and soon to be explosive asshole.

Piper was eager, but not yet skillful with regards to cunnilingus. Mackenzie enjoyed the sensation, but the stench of her own filth a few inches beneath was starting to get to be a bit much. She knew she wanted to eventually be like Piper, to be able to chomp down turds like they were hot-dogs at a competitive eating contest, but she’d have a ways to go.

She felt another wet bowel movement pushing to escape her butt, and she did nothing to hold it back. The sensation like hot, chunky water squirting out of her ass preceded the feeling of a more normal brown log escaping from her body. She could tell the first round of chunky liquid shot straight up Piper’s eager nose, but based on the continued eagerness of her tongue, she didn’t seem to mind.

She thought she was finished when a sudden round of nausea hit her. Maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of cooling poop caking Piper’s crotch, or maybe it was the realization that the girl going down on her has a nose-full of her turd-juice, but she found herself gagging.

The contents of her stomach shot up and poured out of her mouth. In an instant the cold shit in Piper’s lap had been replaced with hot puke. The heaving of her stomach stimulated her guts enough that she unleashed another round of partially digested liquid brown with particular force against Piper’s face. She was projectile squirting simultaneously from both ends. Somewhere in all the bodily commotion she half-noticed that she was pissing as well. There were multiple rounds in which her core clenched and filth rocketed out of three orifices at once. In the end, she was spitting out the last bits of phlegm and gastric juice while pathetic little farts signaled the last of her digestive issues. She closed one nostril with her fingers and blew bits of snot-mixed-with-vomit out the other, then repeated the process on the opposite side.

Piper sounded to be doing the exact opposite. She heard the girl behind her sniffing, as though she was trying to snort the scat that filled her nose down the back of her throat to swallow it. She felt the slender girls hands come up reassuringly to her ribs. It seemed like her hands were shaking a bit. “You’re okay, right?” Piper asked, her voice quivering.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied a bit unsteadily. The ordeal had been a bit trying for her physically, and she was mentally a bit overwhelmed.

Based on Piper’s voice, she was overwhelmed too. “Okay!” Piper’s voice was high pitched, her excitement easily could have been mistaken for panic. “That was amazing. Kenzie, that was fucking amazing! You’re a… you’re a motherfucking, incredible-ass, rug-munching, ginger-snatch cunt! You know that? I mean holy cock-sucking, pants-shitting fucking shit!!! Jesus fuck-tits! You’re a goddamn fucking goddess!”

Mackenzie burst out in hysterical laughter and fell over into the slurry of bodily goo that pooled across the bed and was now dripping onto the floor. She hoped Piper wouldn’t be offended, but the frantic string of obscene language just struck her as incredibly funny. When Piper was excited, she was somehow, incredibly, even more of a potty-mouth!

Piper laughed with her for a moment before having a coughing fit. Mackenzie looked back to see the green-haired girl’s face dripping with brown. It seemed that her laughter had caused her to inadvertently inhale a bit of poo, an idea that elicited another round of screaming laughter from Mackenzie.

The clenching feeling in the bottom of her throat still hadn’t totally subsided. Her stomach and head still ached a bit from projectile retching the contents of her stomach all over Piper’s crotch and bed. And as sexy as her mind found the whole situation, her body’s instinctive aversion would take some time to convince. She’d fantasized about doing things like this for years, and while internet porn had prepared her for the sights and sounds, the magnitude of the smell was a bit much for her to take in. The stench of both fresh and stale diarrhea combined with the acidic odor of vomit imposed upon her nose and eyes. She could even taste it in the air.

“Hey, Piper? This is all really sexy, and I’m for sure going to think about this when I masturbate like… forever. But… I mean, I hate to ask, but could we… clean up maybe… ninety percent of this? I mean, I want to get to the point where I can handle-”

“Hey, it’s no big deal!” Piper interjected while wiping some bits of brown goo from around her eyes, “I guess I kinda threw you in the deep end, huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d get that sick. I mean, it was fucking amazing as a motherfucker, but I don’t want you to feel bad.” She took a moment to formulate a plan for how to proceed. “So tell me what you think of this sequence: You go start taking a shower in my bathroom while I scoop the bulk of the shit and piss and puke into containers, ‘cus I mean, I really wanna save it for later. Then I’ll hop in the shower with you for a minute to clean myself off. Then I’ll grab the wet-vac and clean the rest while you take a bath. I actually have scented oils that’ll make you smell like flowers afterward. Then when you’re done, there’ll just be some residue on the sheets that’s still gonna smell a bit, and parts of the bed are still gonna be kinda sticky, but it won’t be nearly this strong. It’ll just smell kinda like bad farts.”

Mackenzie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, that sounds… really efficient. You have scented bath oil???”

“Well yeah, I mean, it’s cool to smell like shit sometimes, but most people like girls to be clean and smell nice. And there are some dudes I hang out with and play video-games with. I mean, I know they mostly hang out with me ‘cus I let them buttfuck me, but I dunno, maybe part of me wants to be a pretty girl; like you. Or maybe I just like smelling like coconuts and lilac in the morning, and cheese-farts and asparagus-piss at night.” Piper’s eyebrows knitted together in sudden contemplation. “Huh, you know what? I think I just realized that I like all smells. Fuck, I never thought about that before.” She contemplated a moment longer before realizing that Mackenzie was still slowly edging her way to the bathroom on the left side of the room from the bed. “Oh yeah, you go take a shower, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mackenzie followed Piper’s suggestion. She noted that the bathroom had a rather normal assortment of shampoos, conditioners, lotions, oils and the like. If anything, Piper’s collection of hygiene products would be enviable to the average girl. It was actually a comfort that Mackenzie hadn’t realized she needed. She had always been fastidious about cleanliness; both of her body and her environment. She didn’t need a psychologist to tell her that the origins of her fascination with filth lie in her almost obsessive-compulsive tidiness.

Deep down, there had been a spark of worry that despite their common fetish, actually building a life with Piper may have been implausible. But those worries had been laid to rest. Piper’s home was crisp and clean. Her bedroom had a bit of clutter around the computer station, but was otherwise neatly organized and tidy. As she peaked out of the shower to see the shit-caked girl using a small squeegee she apparently had stashed somewhere to scrape the slurry of filth neatly into a tupperware container, she realized that they could have a future. At that moment she knew; this was the girl she was going to marry.

***

Almost forty-five minutes later, Mackenzie came out of the bathroom smelling like roses. The naked and still slightly moist Piper stood eagerly. “I left some residue on the sheets, but if you decide you want everything to be a hundred percent clean, I can change those and put them in the washing machine.”

“It’s okay.” Mackenzie replied with a lovey smile. “It smells sexy in here.” She took deep breath and let out a contented sigh. “I feel better now. Throwing up makes you feel bad. Even though it’s hot.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should have planned for this better.” Piper gave a contrite smile. “Sorry if I was being kinda selfish by making you eat ice cream so you could fart and shit on me.”

“Piper. Stop apologizing.” Mackenzie was almost surprised to hear such a commanding tone come out of her own mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I- Shit! Sorry. Fuck!” Her contrite smile disappeared and was replaced by genuine anxiety.

Mackenzie felt a little sorry for her. She had always hidden her own kink. So as shy as she was, she still made the occasional friend or acquaintance. But Piper’s in-your-face filth obsession must have made her feel alienated from the rest of the world. As best she could tell, her only friends were men who mostly used her for sex. It was no wonder she seemed a bit desperate to please.

“Okay, take a breath.” Mackenzie stepped forward and held Piper’s pixie-like face in her hands, peering into her green and brown eyes. “From now on, whenever you want to say you’re sorry, just tell me you love me instead. Say ‘I love that you accept me for who I am. I love that you forgive me for my mistakes. I love that you want to be with me no matter what.’ Because I do. And I will. You’re… amazing, Piper. And I’m absolutely, positively in love with you.”

Piper stood blank-faced for a moment. “I… I love you too, Kenzie.”

“Come on. Let’s go to bed. It’s getting late, and I think that’s a nice thought to fall asleep to.”

The two of them crawled beneath the feces and vomit smeared sheets, kissed one another gently, and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms….

Mackenzie woke up first the next morning. She laid in bed staring at Piper through the mess of green hair that tangled over her face. She watched as her eyes lazily drifted open and turned to meet hers. She yawned and smiled before speaking groggily, “I’ve got to take a monster dump right now.”

Mackenzie giggled and kissed her. “Good morning to you, too!”

Piper slipped out from under the rubbery covers and stood naked, wreathed in the small bit of morning light that peaked through the curtains above the bed. “I’m thirsty, are you thirsty?”

“Mhm. I actually feel a little dehydrated. I probably should have drank something after I threw up last night.”

“Oh fuck, I should have offered you something, I’m sor- I mean… uhh… I love that you put up with the fact that I don’t know how to have guests.” She grinned a bit, proud of herself for remembering Mackenzie’s insistence that she express love rather than regret.

Piper opened the clear shower-curtain to enter the tech corner of the room, the mess of cables and wires running between custom made computers and monitors and various other pieces of plastic and circuitry that Mackenzie couldn’t begin to decipher. She opened a small mini-fridge positioned in the underside of the desk and pulled out one clear bottle and one red one. “I’ve got water and Mountain Dew Code Red.”

“Oh, just the water is fine.”

Piper returned to the bed and handed Mackenzie the clear bottle. She opened the red one herself and took a swig. The scent of artificial cherry flavor briefly overwhelmed the aroma of ass that lingered on the bed and on Piper’s skin. Mackenzie cracked the water and drank a third of it in a few large swallows.

She contemplated for a moment, “Hey, have these been in your ass?”

“Nah, I just do that with stuff I eat. I leave drinks alone. I thought about making it so that everything I eat is something I shat out and everything I drink is something I pissed, but I’m not about to give myself a catheter every day to squirt coffee and soda and juice into my bladder. I tried it once and it kinda hurts, like… kinda a lot. I still drink piss, though. Wanna see?”

Mackenzie groaned adorably and hit Piper gently with a pillow, “How are you this chipper this early in the morning? And also, yes, of course I wanna watch you drink piss.”

Piper laughed as she went to the dresser to retrieve a large green cup from one of the upper drawers. Mackenzie was slowly figuring out that a dish or food being labeled green seemed to indicate it was for Piper only. She watched, as the skinny, naked girl turned her knees out and squatted slightly. A pale yellow liquid poured from between her labia and filled the cup about two thirds of the way. She returned to bed next to Mackenzie and sipped the cup of urine while making casual eye contact with her bed-mate. “Wanna try some?”

Mackenzie nodded. Piper handed her the cup, “Just take a little sip.” she cautioned, “I don’t wanna go overboard again. We have time to help you get used to all this kinda shit.”

She took the cup and smelled it. A relatively normal scent of salty urea. She took a small sip and found it tasted similarly. The acrid taste made her face scrunch a bit. She followed up the sip of Piper’s pee by taking a few delicate swallows from the bottle of clean water. “Thanks for going slow with me, Piper.”

“No problem, babe. Hey, hand me that empty ice-cream container, I’m gonna take a huge dump in it while you watch, okay?”

She handed Piper the container and turned on the bedside lamp to get a better look as Piper turned around and knelt down with her chest pressed onto the top of the bed. She held the container in one hand between her legs; obscenely spread ass proudly displaying her cute, puckered anus. She watched as the muscles in the girl’s lithe abdomen writhed and her shitter opened up. A large, solid log of brown excrement pushed its way out of Piper’s asshole and broke off to plop into the empty container. A slightly softer brown cylinder emerged and kept emerging; it curved down, beginning to coil as it hit the bottom of the container. She realized that Piper’s practiced skill was being utilized to fill the container the same way an ice-cream man would fill a cone with soft-serve. Despite her small size, she managed to fill the container almost all the way to the top with a perfectly tipped swirl.

“Impressive!” Mackenzie remarked.

“I watched some YouTube videos of the techniques people use for soft-serve. It took some practice to get it right at this angle, but I can usually make a pretty nice-looking shit-cup.” She explained as she wiped her ass with her fingers and licked them clean.

Piper grabbed the spoon and sat in bed next to Mackenzie. She began casually eating her own shit from the used ice-cream container as if it actually was soft-serve, occasionally washing it down with a swig from the bottle of red soda.

“Can I try?” Mackenzie asked, stopping Piper in her tracks.

“Are you sure? Just so you know, this thing doesn’t need to be a two way street. If you want to just dump out turds in my mouth every day, and never put your mouth anywhere near me, I’d be a hundred-percent cool with that.”

“I wouldn’t be. I like kissing you. And I don’t feel like you’re pressuring me. I’ve fantasized about eating your shit since the first day we met. I guess I kinda did at the assembly, but mostly I just threw up. I didn’t really get a chance to take my time.”

“Yeah, I… love you for being the kinda girl that enjoyed that crazy-ass prank. Okay, I don’t want you to get sick again, so just have a little.” Piper collected a small spoonful of her own crap and held it out toward Mackenzie.

“I love you, too.” she said before she suddenly took the small scoop of feces into her mouth. She pulled back and felt the slightly warm brown sludge on her tongue. The taste was bitter and earthy; like fermented soil and coffee grounds. With a substantial stretch of the imagination, she could almost convince herself that the turd tasted like unsweetened dark chocolate. She mushed it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue and swallowed. She gagged briefly, but quickly washed most of the taste out of her mouth by downing the rest of her water bottle.

Piper watched with anticipation. Mackenzie took a few deep breaths to make sure that she wasn’t going to throw up, then smiled at Piper. Piper looked excited and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you! Just so you know, that shit was mostly made out of your shit from last night, so you’re kinda gettin’ double shit flavor there. But now that I know for sure you want to do that, I’ll try to do stuff to make it taste better when you come over. Oh! And you should take the antibiotics my mom got for you so that you don’t get sick from that.” She produced the small prescription bottle from a drawer in the nightstand before going back to her mini-fridge to bring another water bottle.

“Thanks,” she said as she downed the first dose of medication. “Hey, Piper? Can I… make a request? It’s okay if you say no, but it’d mean a lot to-”

“I’ll do anything for you, Mackenzie.” The adoration was clear in her voice.

“If I’m going to be… ya know, eating your poop, is there any chance you could… stop eating meat?”

Piper’s cheeks widened into a big, toothy grin. “I already stopped. I knew there was a chance you’d want to do that, and I know you don’t eat meat. I’m not going to have you eat second-hand meat out of my butt.”

The two of them spent most of the rest of the day in bed watching tv. It seemed that the little laptop on the nightstand could set anything she could imagine to play on the screen. Mackenzie wasn’t sure if the Lindeholm household just happened to have a subscription to almost every streaming service, of if Piper was pirating them. She decided that she didn’t particularly care about the answer. She did care about the fact that they seemed to have more in common than she would have thought. They both liked Star Trek, and spent a good portion of the day revisiting favorite episodes. Their taste in comedy shows was similar; and Mackenzie found herself genuinely enjoying being a cheerleader for Piper as she played video games. Mackenzie was more into horror movies than Piper, who got scared easily, but claimed she could tolerate them as long as she could bury her face between Mackenzie’s boobs during the scary parts.

Toward the end of the day, the two of them worked together to clean the last of the filth from the room as Mackenzie prepared to depart that evening. She wished that she could stay forever, but a part of her also wanted to get home to Saturday-evening dinner with her family, where she could tell them a heavily censored version of her adventures with her new girlfriend. Plus, she enjoyed the weekly family ritual of Sunday morning breakfast, followed by church.

She was saying her last goodbyes and thank-yous to Piper and her mother, when Piper blurted out a question randomly.

“Hey, should I shave my head again by Monday? Like, do you want to see my tattoos at school?”

Piper’s hairstyle had been a bit neglected during the few weeks in the mental hospital. The formerly bare sides of her head that read “Potty Mouth” and “Ass 2 Mouth 4 Life” were now mostly obscured by a dense stubble of golden-blonde hair.

Miss Lindeholm stood behind Piper, making intensely wide eye-contact with Mackenzie and pleadingly shaking her head in tense little gestures.

“Well… I think your hair is really pretty, and, I dunno, maybe the tattoos can be just something that you and me know about.”

Piper’s mother made a silent sigh of relief and mouthed ‘thank you’ at Mackenzie.

“Okay,” she began, rubbing the side of her head, “I guess I can grow it out for now. Least I can do is try to look pretty for you.”

Mackenzie didn’t fully understand the comment until they passed each other in the hall Monday at school. Piper kept her eyes downcast, only raising them briefly to flash a subtle knowing smile at Mackenzie before proceeding on her way as if they were strangers.

Mackenzie wheeled around to catch up and glomped Piper with a big hug from behind. “Hey, pretty girl! You aren’t even going to say hi to me?”

Piper looked panicked, she spoke in a rapid whisper, “Kenzie! You can’t hang around me at school! People are gonna… see you! With me!”

A flash of anger stirred in Mackenzie’s heart. Not directed at Piper, but at the society that made her feel that she needed to protect Mackenzie from mockery by pretending to be strangers.

Her face turned stern. “Piper! I don’t care what anyone thinks.” She began to speak a bit more loudly in the crowded hall to make her point, “You’re my girlfriend and we’re in love. I feel sorry for anyone who thinks they need to make fun of someone because of who they choose to spend their life with.”

Piper continued to fret for a while, but eventually acquiesced; she still seemed a little nervous. They spent a lot of time together in school, but Piper always preferred to spend it away from other students who may be compelled to comment on Mackenzie’s choice of partner. In fact, most of the time, the two of them spent their lunch period in the out-of-the-way bathroom where they’d first met. They occasionally did unspeakably filthy things when they could be sure they would have privacy in a stall, but mostly, they just held hands and talked about their lives.

Mackenzie’s parents eventually had Piper and her mother over to their home for dinner; something that both girls stressed about on account of Piper’s inadvertent compulsion to be vulgar. Piper’s mother seemed uncharacteristically cavalier about the whole thing, as though she had a secret plan to ensure the evening went well. Which, as it turns out, she did! Almost as soon as the two of them walked in the door, Miss Lindeholm dominated the conversation by praising them for the way they reconciled their Christian faith with their daughter’s homosexuality, which she segued into offhandedly mentioning a project that Piper had done a few years before about her personal hero and gay icon, Alan Turing. That had apparently set things in motion, as Piper spent the rest of the evening excitedly lecturing everyone present about the life and legacy of the father of modern computer science, along with far too many details about computer science itself. Mackenzie’s family was too polite to stop her multi-hour soliloquy, but left the evening believing that their daughter’s new sweetheart was an exceptionally bright and spirited young lady whose odd behavior at the school assembly had been an isolated incident.

A few weeks later, Piper had grown more comfortable spending time with Mackenzie in the more public areas of the school. At one point a large boy from the football team had approached them, mockingly inviting Piper and Mackenzie to a party they were throwing… as the toilets. Piper initially accepted the invitation happily, not realizing the boy was making fun of them. When Mackenzie explained, she seemed disappointed. She didn’t become angry until the boy continued piling on, and when he called Mackenzie a ‘retard’ she attacked him. The ninety-six pound girl was about as effective as one would expect against the two-hundred-forty pound linebacker; the fight ended about two seconds after it began with Piper lying in the dirt with a split lip. Despite being the one bleeding, she still seemed much more worried about Mackenzie.

The boy was suspended for a week, a penalty that Piper’s mother thought was insultingly low. Though it seemed karma was on their side, as the boy was arrested soon after when hundreds of gigabytes of brutal pornography featuring a ten-year-old girl named Darla was found on his personal computer. Mackenzie had a sneaking suspicion that Piper was responsible, but being as she wasn’t sure she wanted to know just how far Piper would go to defend her, she never asked.

A few weeks before graduation, Mackenzie proposed in the bathroom where they’d first met. It was the first time she’d ever seen Piper cry.

That summer, the two of them found an apartment and moved in together near the university that Piper would be attending in the Fall. Mackenzie decided that she wanted to take some time off and figure out what she wanted to do with her life. The two of them often joked that Mackenzie was preparing for a life as Piper’s trophy wife.

Life was good; and the strange and depraved story of Piper and Mackenzie’s ‘Happily Ever After’ was just beginning…

#pervertpentet pottymouthpiper

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writinginrosecoloredglasses · 4 years

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Dance of the Crowns: Season 1 - Episode 1: Dragon Wings & Lion Manes

TW for: Mentions of arranged marriage and death caused by sickness.

Tags: @desi-pluto, @leave-her-a-tome, @emdrabbles, @beyondthebracken

ON DRAGONSTORM

The episode/first chapter starts off with the King of the southern hemisphere of Altoterra, Erik Dragonorage, and his children, twenty-six-year-old Lyra, eighteen-year-old Leonardo, seventeen-year-old Caitlin and thirteen-year-old Hugo on horseback, riding down to the edge of hill above Dragonstorm Beach. Considering on every first sunset of the seasons, the first day of each one (summertime in canon), the rulers of Springfallen, Dragonstorm’s village and Terros, which are Erik, Tyrell and Cateline respectively, he’s going to gather with them on the shore to watch it rise, with four of his children in attendance. (For those wondering, he splits them into groups when taking them to watch. Lyra, Leo, Caitlin and Hugo go in the summer and winter; while Nolan, Diana, Antonio and Ruby go in the spring and fall.)

Once they reach there, Tyrell and Cateline make their way up to the top of the hill, and take a seat with their older brothers, nieces and nephews. They’re all silent for a moment, drinking water, taking a breath and/or squinting to see the horizon and check if the sunrise has begun yet or not. Nothing much happens, but it builds up to the next part -

As for that topic, Cateline mentions the warm spring finally coming to an end, and how the past six months’ weather’s had an effect on parts of the continent. Her brothers ask her why, and she’s got a mouthful to tell them: The High North, the kingdom/city of Orore’s Guard, has had a vast drop in population (over 1330) over the winter and spring, and there’s no specified reasons by any of the northern doctors, throughout all five of the Northern Kingdoms (Wintergardens, Iron Rock, Orore’s Guard, Garde Roux and Umbelle). She then suggests and alliance between the King and Queen of Orore’s Guard, Fred and Harmonia Brannon with Erik and Celeste, as F&H’s younger daughter (Madilyn) is close in age to Nolan (she’s 21 and he’s 22). They discuss this for several minutes, with Cateline being the one who progresses it most.

This conversation is put to a stop temporarily, as the sun is about to rise and they’ve never missed a single time watching it for 20+ years.

Once they’re getting ready to leave, Erik tells his sister he’ll definitely bring it up to Celeste once they go back to the castle. She nods, tells him he’s thinking right (part of what makes her character so great; her sass!), and goes back down to her boat and heads for the islands.

Estimated scene length: Around five minutes. And if the episode is planned out to be around 51 minutes in my head, that leaves us with 46 more to fill in with scenes.

IN LANCAAROS

Victor Alagstoyne meets with Dragahri’s advisor Max, as the two of them and the rest of their people are the only ones subtracting Victor and his sister (Sylvia) who they knew they can trust on the islands.

He (Victor) mentions how their family has been in exile for almost 30 years, while his father has been dead for 21, calculating to around the same time that Sylvia was born and the Wintergardens/Arthur vs. Wolfebroken/Alagstoyne war ended and the Arthurs won. (This will be an arc of the first season/book, but not that major until episode 15-ish.)

Sylvia knows the consequences, duties, situations and trials that would come with signing a deal with Dragahri and his people, and has consented to everything. (She’s 21, which by law of all the locations, is an adult.) She knows her brother is capable of taking care of and leading for the both of them, so it’s 100% truthful to say she trusts him.

On that note - Sylvia has proposed the idea of Dragahri being her suitor several times in the past and would gladly consent to it, so it isn’t a bad thing at all if Victor and Max went with that in the end.

As you all may have guessed, they do agree to that, and Sylvia is called from her tent to hear news and say what she wants.

When she’s told she’s to be suited to Dragahri, she’s silent for a moment, until her brother shakes her out of her thoughts. She responds with nothing more than a forced smile, it dropping into a frustrated and thinking frown when the two of them walk away.

However, nothing to worry about; she isn’t alone as she has her close friend and assistant Rosalia with her. She realizes Sylvia isn’t acting like herself and, being a concerned best friend, she goes to her and asks her what’s wrong, which leads to a long conversation between the two of them.

Sylvia confesses to not being afraid; not of being with someone she doesn’t know well enough yet (but knows he won’t hurt her, at least), but of how her brother’s been acting lately. (He’s been pushing her aside and ignoring her, but brushes all suspects away considering he ‘knows what’s best’ for her.

Rosalia tells her to not stress and that’ll all work out in the end, and they leave the tent and go to where Victor is with their guards and Sylvia gets ready to meet her suitor. But still, she can’t stop getting the fear of her brother, the person she used to trust most turning on her out of her head.

Estimated scene length: At the very least, just a bit over sixteen minutes. 16+5 equals 21, and out of 51 minutes of this episode, a half hour left to go.

IN SPRINGFALLEN

Erik, Lyra, Leo, Caitlin and Hugo return to the castle, just in time to have breakfast with Celeste and the other children (Nolan, Diana, Antonio and Ruby). Breakfast is filled with the triplets joking around with each other (Caitlin, Antonio and Ruby are, btw), Diana and Leo gossiping about rumors they’ve heard about other Southern kingdoms and such (Springfallen is in the southern part of the continent, btw), Nolan and Lyra occasionally having small arguments and Hugo trying to join Leo and Diana, while Erik and Celeste usually talk to each other about fresh pieces of news and duties for the day they have to get to. (Considering there’s five exact kingdoms in the south, Springfallen became the ruling one twenty-five years before the events, when Lyra was around one.)

After breakfast, the kids are all ushered out and told to leave, so Erik can mention his sister’s suggestion to Celeste in private. This leads to a long bout of consideration and thinking, as yet with Nolan not being 25 yet (18 is legal adult age, 25 is the age for royal blood to travel alone), he’d have to have either one of his parents or Lyra (aged 26) accompany him, as the northern grounds would be a better location to have everything happen, yet with Springfallen and other parts of the south not having anything major while Orore’s Guard does and how it could spread to the other five major kingdoms. Plus, they could figure out what’s been killing people while in the north, as Erik is incredibly intelligent in the medical field.

This scene comes to a cut, leaving us some time for each of the Dragon kids to get their own introductory scenes.

Lyra comes first. She’s shown to be sitting on a tree stump outside at the back of the castle, reading a book from the royal library. She’s having a conversation with her best friend and lady’s maid (well, to her and her three sisters, that is) Tsukiko, who seems to be quite enthusiastic about the secret Lyra’s parents are hiding. Considering she’s quite the optimistic and almost always positive-thinking, she believes it’ll be something good. Lyra, however, is both excited and nervous, stuck in the in-between of her opinion on her parents’ current discussion that she’ll find out about after they’re done and come to a decision.

Next up, is a two-for-one; between Nolan and Diana. They’re out in the royal rose garden, and she’s picking flowers to put in her room (as she’s the most feminine out of the four Dragonorage sisters). She mentions that while they both dreamed of being rulers as kids, the likeliness of such happening is impossible, due to Lyra being the oldest child of the Dragonorage family and it being her birthright because of so. Nolan storms off at this, and leaves Diana alone by herself in the garden.

Diana ends up going to Lyra in her room, and vents to her about how he’s treated her like this for a long time (ever since she was 11 and he was 12). Lyra advises her to ignore it, and next time it happens, tell their parents.

Third scene of the kids: Leonardo and the triplets (Leo is 18, they’ve just turned 17). They’re spending time together in the library, just the four of them together. He mentions the possibility of it having to do with the population drop/mysterious death causes in the north, and while Antonio and Ruby generally disagree and think otherwise, Caitlin sees his point and quickly agrees. This leads to a conversation about the old history of the north’s kingdoms/locations and how there were lots of suspicions about them, which leads to more about the rulers and such, telling of some ancient lore. This also leads to more mention and backstory of the Red Rebellion and what happened during the five years it lasted. However, the cause never gets mentioned in this conversation, but they do know that the royal house their mother was born to was greatly involved (Garde Roux/the house of Victoire. Celeste was the princess of there, second child and grew up in the north). Caitlin speaks about her knowledge on fashion of the northern people (she’s a bit of a stereotypical princess in that regard), Antonio about horseback riding, and Ruby about knights, combat and swordfighting.

This scene ends with Leo letting Hugo into the library, and he joins their conversation. He then mentions his history lesson with their teacher about learning of all the wars, castle building etc., and all of the history of the continent, and how a majority of the toys he owns are replicas of important locations. So, in general, this gives a brief introduction to them and some of their interests: Leo being a history buff/interested in learning, Caitlin being interested in fashion, Antonio being fascinated with horses and riding, Ruby being a fanatic of knighthood, and Hugo being into toys and such, even as a teenager.

The scenes of the entire Dragonorage family end with the second of the three major lady’s maids, Anna (her, Tsukiko and Jayne are the ‘holy trinity’) running around to get all eight of the Dragonorage kids, and that their parents finally are ready to see them.

And finally, Erik and Celeste have came to the agreement that Madilyn Brannon and Nolan will be put into an arranged marriage, and that Erik and Nolan will be traveling to the north and gather all of their children to tell them the news. But: Only three of the other kids are allowed to go to Orore’s Guard with their dad and brother if they want to.

Estimated scene length: Nineteen minutes, and 19+21 gives us 40 minutes (just over considering no scene in this isn’t over or under a second). Leaving eleven or less.

IN ORORE’S GUARD - TIME SKIP TO THE NEXT DAY AT SUNSET

We’re introduced to the Princess of Orore’s Guard that’s to be with Nolan; twenty-one-year-old Madilyn, who was mentioned by Cateline earlier. (She has an older sister, 24-year-old Maisy.) It begins with her alone in her room in one of the towers of the castle, sewing up her torn inside/outside dress (for the garden/within the castle. I’m bad at describing that stuff lol). She’s awaiting news on her possible marriage to whom her home has dubbed the Dragon Prince, of which her sister will deliver.

She’s deep inside her feelings, asking herself five things: 1; if this is what she wants, 2; if she’s ready or not, 3; if this is a good thing or a bad thing for her and her home, 4; if it’s right for her to be scared and 5; of course if the answer is yes or no.

She thinks of there being a plus: Her being with someone like him, of a high status and the son of the ruler of a part/hemisphere of the continent (Springfallen rules the five kingdoms in the South, while Wintergardens rules the five in the North. All kingdoms of each hemisphere rule, but Springfallen and Wintergardens are the top), would automatically make her a queen. Usually, the crowning age would be 27, meaning Lyra would inherit once she turned that age the next year, but considering he’s 22, he wouldn’t get it.

Maisy is 24, closer to the age of earning the throne and ruling their part of the hemisphere. But, considering she’s not assigned to be with anyone while Madilyn is, she’d become the Queen of the Den (as that’s what Orore’s Guard is called, symbolic of their house crest being a lion).

Why wouldn’t Nolan rule if he married her? His parents are still the rulers legally, so that option is off the table. However, marrying Madilyn would make him the King of the Den.

Keep in mind, this is all being told by her inner monologue, so a TV version would have the voiceover of the actress who’d play her running in the background while the book would have her thoughts in italics like ‘this’.

To wrap up this part, it ends in her finishing her patching up of the dress and putting it on a hanger in her closet, and eventually being called down for dinner.

At dinner, Harmonia announces to her husband and daughters that she’s received a letter from the advisor of the Queen of Garde Roux, Celeste’s older sister Circe.

Why did she receive the letter from Circe? Garde Roux is located right below Orore’s Guard, and there’s a fair eight miles between each kingdom’s individual gates. Meaning, there wasn’t much of a distance, just enough for Circe to send one of Garde Roux’s messengers to deliver the letter.

Back on topic - Harmonia announces that the arranged marriage deal was a go with Erik and Celeste, and that the Dragonorages are to arrive in three days stat. (Keep in mind, the Orore’s Guard part takes place a day after Springfallen/Lancaaros/Dragonstorm’s scenes, so they’d be in the North four days after the beginning of the episode/story.)

Madilyn nods, and finds herself not being nervous or scared about anything. She’s rather relieved, and happily obliges/agrees to the deal once more to confirm everything is well on her side, and both of her parents look quite pleased.

This ends in her and Maisy having a brief talk as they walk down the dinner hall and up the stairs, where she asks if she’s that okay with giving herself away to someone she doesn’t even know. Madilyn assures her that it’ll all be fine, and yet with how charmed the people who’ve heard of him (but haven’t met him face-to-face) seem to be with him/how much they like him, she’ll be okay in the end.

And finally, both sisters go to their individual rooms and to go bed, thus ending the Orore’s Guard scenes.

Estimated scene length: Eight minutes. This leaves us with, in addition to the previous 40, 48 aka four dozen, with just three left.

BACK IN SPRINGFALLEN - THREE DAYS AFTER SPRINGFALLEN 1/DRAGONSTORM

Erik has chosen three other children to go with him to Orore’s Guard: Diana, Ruby and Caitlin.

Caitlin was chosen for her interest in their fashion and want to travel (think of her as Belle in that regard), Diana for wanting to travel and see more of the world, and Ruby considering lots of hype around swordfighting and knights goes on around there, and the fact that many of the knights she looks up to were from there.

Lyra, Leo, Antonio and Hugo are staying behind in Springfallen, and Celeste will assume both roles of the King and Queen while her husband is away.

The guards/Erik’s men come up to them with news that Harmonia and Fred have given them a gift; and Erik immediately asks to see what they’ve delivered.

It’s nothing other than a pack of wolves: Four grey, two white, one black, one tan, and one brown.

Each one of the kids takes one wolf, leaving one left.

Celeste and Erik both decide to give it to her son from another relationship, who lives in the North as leader of a group of warriors who protects the North, twenty-nine-year-old Jonathan. (He’ll be introduced not much later on, and will have an interesting storyline and important role to play. His father won’t be revealed until later on, however.)

The episode ends at this, and finally, Erik, Nolan and the three chosen children leave for Orore’s Guard with the Spring Knights to accompany them on the way there.

Estimated scene length: Two and a half minutes, leaving us with thirty seconds left. Leaving us with just enough time to roll credits and conclude the episode/chapters that begin the tale.

(PSA: All the probable/possible loose ends will be tied with within the next five episodes. So for now, it’s to leave suspense, and readers can take time to speculate and wonder why/create theories and conspiracies.)

Thank you to whoever took the time to read this! Feedback is much welcomed/appreciated!

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everysongineverykey · 5 years

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*claps hands* alright motherfuckers i havent made a natm post in literally a year so heres one:

I’ve just got a nice idea for a post-natm 3 au where ahk and his parents get transferred back to brooklyn permanently by some amazing museum executive, bringing the tablet with them, of course.

You can guess what happens: People reconcile, friends are made, and parties are had. Big parties, just like the one at the end of natm 3, but about once a month, just for fun. Jed and Oct are dj’s (and Jed has a field day with the “disc jockey” puns, obviously) and everyone else just dances and has a great time.

But one person’s still missing, of course: Larry Daley himself. He’s a teacher now, and enjoys his job, and maybe he’s even got a pretty high position, who knows? Anyway, sometimes, after sundown, Larry’ll walk down to the museum and see the lights erupting from the stained-glass-wall, and smile, but never go in, because he knows it’s no longer his place to be.

But then one day, he makes friends with the current night guard at the brooklyn museum, and they’ll beg him to come see the museum one night after sundown, because he’ll never believe what happens there every night. And he tries to hide his excitement, and at first refuses, but consents to a short visit after his friend insists.

What he doesn’t know, however, is that his new friend knows that he’s worked at the museum before.

They know he knows what happens after dark.

But they’re bringing him along because they like him, and because their good friend ahkmenrah simply insisted.

Ahk, you see, has been missing his old friend quite a bit. The new guard is sweet and all, but it’s just not the same without Larry’s bittersweet greetings and polite sarcasm. His parents, of course, can’t understand their son’s fixation on this strange “Guardian of Brooklyn”. They’ve met him, and he just doesn’t appear to be anything special.

Oh, if they could see the world through ahk’s eyes.

So one night, Larry and his friend walk into the noisy museum lobby, decked out with everything bright and colorful. It seems like the party will never stop-

Except once it does.

As soon as the exhibits spy Larry’s face in front of the door, the entire building falls dead silent. No breathing is heard, no footsteps, not even the sound of the cds turning gently, even though Jed and Oct have stopped moving them.

The first sound that is heard is Attila, screaming in surprise and delight and running to wrap Larry up in a hug.

The second sound is a confused, yet enthusiastic “Lawrence, my good boy, I thought you had left us!” from Teddy.

The third sound is Ahk’s soft “Larry. Guardian of Brooklyn” just as he starts to move closer.

Larry doesn’t waste any time in running around the lobby desperately trying to hug each and every one of them, including the animals.

As soon as everyone’s finished with their tearful hellos, they start the party right up again, and Larry, being the awkward, serious guy he is, refuses to dance, saying he’s fine just watching and talking.

Well, you all know where this is going. Ahk grabs Larry by the arm and whirls him onto the direct center of the floor so that he has no choice but to dance. So he does. He dances to the very best of his ability, which of course isn’t very good, but Ahk just smiles adorably and eventually grabs him by the arm again, and of course they start to dance.

It’s not a wrap-your-arms-around-each-other-and-sway-slowly-to-the-music kind of dance, but it’s not completely impersonal, either. It’s a quick, lively one with the partners touching hands, twirling and dipping each other occasionally. Larry once swore he’d never be caught dead dancing with someone like this. Ahk and Larry both know this, but neither of them care all that much at the moment. It’s fun. And fast. And personal.

And…

And all of a sudden, they’re kissing, and the dance becomes a lot more personal.

And soon enough, it’s not even a dance anymore, and they’re up on the roof together, talking.

And the conversation they have goes something like this…

“But why can’t you stay here? We’ve missed you! I’ve missed you! Whatever you’re doing right now can’t be as important as-”

“You heard me, Ahk. I love all of you. But I’ve built up a life for myself. I’ve got a new job. I can’t just give that all away.”

“Not even for me?”

“Don’t give me that. Look.” Their fingers are intertwined by now. “I do love you. But-”

“But you’re not willing to throw your life away for me.”

A silence.

“No, I’m not. And I’d never be willing to do that. I’m sorry, but-”

“It’s okay. I understand. If I were forced to choose between my kingdom and my lover… I’d probably do the same thing.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course. Just… make sure you come back and visit every month.”

“Of course I’ll visit you. I love you, Ahk.”

“I love you too.”

If either of them have anything more to say, the opportunity to say it is closed, along with the gap between their lips. They stay up on the roof until sundown, and when they return to the lobby to help clean up, no one asks where they’ve been. They don’t need to.

After all, the way they look at each other tells them everything they need to know.

So, Larry keeps his word, and visits the museum at the same time every month for the next couple years. His affair with Ahk becomes somewhat of an unspoken agreement around the place, something that everyone is aware of, but feels no great urge to address. His visits are always welcomed, and each time the news he brings with him gets better and better- it’s always some kind of promotion he’s received. Last month, he told them he’d been accepted into a “new line of business,” although he won’t tell them exactly what it is.

Then, one night, the current guard pulls them aside and tells them that he’s actually become a congressman.

No one believes it, of course- until they show them several articles about it on their phone.

Then they do.

And when Larry comes to visit the next month, Ahk pulls him onto the roof again, but there is no romance in this conversation.

“Well, Larry Daley? I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“…Who told you?”

“Our good friend the night guard. Everyone knows. And I’d like to know why we had to wait so long.”

“If you’d been given an opportunity to rule a new kingdom overseas, wouldn’t you have hesitated before-”

“This is more than hesitation! You lied to us for several months. I don’t know why you’d-”

“Ahk, this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“No?”

There is a lengthy pause.

“No. I’ll always have time for you. It’s not like I’m moving out of the state or anything.”

Ahk is a little reassured, but their later conversation that night is strained, less personal.

Later, though, he relaxes a bit, thinks, Well, he’s perfectly capable, what could go wrong?

Poor Ahkmenrah.

To jinx himself like that.

Larry goes on to do great things, though. He’s a huge asset to the state of New York. Congress loves him. The people love him. Everyone loves him.

At least, that’s the general impression until one fateful night in mid-May.

Everything happens so very fast. The poor guard ambles in one evening, slumped and depressed, and when everyone asks what’s wrong, they look the exhibits right in the eyes and tell them that Larry Daley, congressman of the State of New York, has been killed in a hate crime.

An unidentified gunman shot him twelve times in the chest before taking off, apparently.

Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn, is dead.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. That’s all that runs through Ahk’s head for the next few hours. He’s dead.

And he excuses himself quietly, walks up to the rooftop, and sits down and looks at the night sky.

And for the first time in nearly three thousand years, Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King, ruler of the land of his fathers, closes his eyes and starts to cry.

Not too loudly, of course. To let anyone hear him would be embarrassing. But he sobs quietly, covering his face with one arm and hugging himself with the other. His sorrow disappears into the night just as quickly as it is announced, heard by nothing but the stars.

And Ahk stares up at the sky, his vision blurred with tears that, when he wipes them away, reveal a seemingly infinite expanse of darkness, the air too polluted with artificial light to see more than a few stars.

But he doesn’t have to see the Milky Way to feel incredibly small at that moment.

And that’s how it goes for a long time.

Every night, on the anniversary of Larry’s death, Ahk climbs to the rooftop and sits there, alone, and wonders why.

Why he had to get stuck with poor, stubborn Larry.

Every time, some of the exhibits- his parents, or Teddy, or Jed and Oct- follow him up and tell him they’re there if he needs them.

The first few times, he refuses, insisting he’s fine.

But about five months later, he starts accepting their presence.

And a year later, he stops going up to the roof, deciding it’s not healthy to hold onto your past forever.

Every month, the date comes and goes. But it’s not an unfortunate reminder anymore. It’s not a rude awakening. It simply is.

And life goes on.

Until, one day in the year 2099, Ahk is transferred again, this time to a museum in Vermont. He’s been in and out of Brooklyn and Britain a couple times by now, and he’s seen his fair share of Japan, and even Egypt, for a couple years. He can handle a quiet museum in a quiet state.

What he doesn’t anticipate is that the Vermont museum is currently unveiling several new wax sculptures, depicting some of America’s most famous members of government, including senators and congressmen.

So, on his first few nights in Vermont, Ahk walks around a bit, makes friends with the mummified cats in the Egyptology section, talks to a couple of Greek Gods, nothing extravagant.

And then, two weeks in, just while he’s heading to the busts, he passes a room with about twelve empty human-sized glass cases, and decides it’s worth checking out. So he varies his route a bit, and by 3:AM, he’s met eight different members of congress, the senate, and the House of Representatives. So he’s walking slowly on back to his exhibit to talk to the cats a bit more, rather happy with his new acquaintances.

He’s just about to pick one up when he hears footsteps outside, coming gradually closer.

And then a voice.

“Get off me, you stupid cat, I don’t care if you were a god in ancient Egypt, you’re dead now, I don’t need this…”

Oh.

Ahk knows that voice- But it can’t be…

Can it?

The pharaoh races out of the room. He looks to the left. The footsteps stop short, but there is no one to be seen. He looks to the right.

And.

And it’s Larry.

Larry Daley. Guardian of Brooklyn. His Larry.

Larry stares at Ahk. Ahk stares back. Then the congressman breaks the silence by slowly moving closer. Ahk can’t resist reaching out to touch his cheek.

And Larry smiles. “Ahk.” And Ahk can’t resist pulling his mouth into a giddy grin.

All he can say is, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

There’s a brief pause, and then they lock in a gentle kiss.

And then they both laugh, and laugh, and laugh. And Ahk grabs his arm and leads him to the roof, where they’re too busy looking at each other to look at the stars, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Looks like now, you’ve got no choice but to stay with me,” Ahk says, still grinning.

Larry smirks, but it soon turns into a warm smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

If a stranger were to look out their bedroom window at the museum roof that night, all they would have seen was two people tangled together as one.

anyway just a suggestion :)

#NATM #natm ships #Night at the Museum #tablet guardians

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serverstuck · 5 years

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Come join SERVERSTUCK, a Fantroll RP server for anyone from Homestuck Veterans to Hiveswap Enthusiasts!

Pester your chums and make new friends!!

Over 350 players

A Year and a Half worth of experience

A custom TTRPG system based on Powered by the Apocalypse, as seen in Monster of the Week: SUBGRUBS & SNAZZARDS

Mutants, Limes, Ghosts, Robots and more!

Lore Events from Murder Trials for an Assassinated Heiress to Robot Invasions from Space to Clowns crossing dimensions to crumple existence itself!

A super fun and friendly community to roleplay with or just hang out in!

We’re the best and brightest of Homestuck in 2019, and we want you! Join today, and make yourself right at home with Serverstuck!

Join today!

FAQ!

Q: So what kind of roleplay is gonna happen in this server?

A: Serverstuck is more of a casual type RP than a plot based one. Nobody will be entering SGRUB, but other mishaps and mayhem are definitely on the table in the form of events that the admins will run!

Q: I don’t know much about trolls, I only played Hiveswap- will that be okay?

A: Absolutely! I went through all of the wiki, the comic and game, and now the Friendsim, and made a few educated guesses based on the Trollcall, and compiled all the info on trolls I could into a handy bullet point guide that can easily be glanced over in 10 minutes! You could even join with zero experience with trolls!

Q: I’m not very good at script RP… I prefer to Text in character. Is this the server for me?

A: You know it! Along with channels for locations trolls might chill around, we have multiple social media channels, from Chittr to Mirthful Mingle, for all your script RP needs!

Q: What kind of players can we expect to see?

A: The mod team wants a friendly atmosphere, and as such, we hope to recruit friendly members! People looking for drama, arguments or debate would probably be better off in other servers since this one is meant to be pretty peaceful!

Q: Hey, I submitted an ask, or reblogged an old ad, and I never got accepted! What gives?

A: I am so fucking sorry. listen for a while i was the only dude running the blog and giving out 1k invites was hell. However, our whole mod team is on board now, so you should get invites faster than ever!

Q: It’s 2019. Why are you still doing this?

A: O-our lusii say we’re valid…

Q: How many trolls can I play?

A: We each start with one troll, but as time progresses, you’ll have a shittonne more! INFINITE TROLLS, BABEY

Q: Is murder legal?

A: Absolutely, once you have consent and have discussed with both the other party and a mod!

Q: Have you any rules that we should know about first?

A: The only one you gotta know off the bat is we don’t allow Fuschia Fantrolls, since there’s only ever one on the planet at a time!

Q: What will I do with my Fuschia trolls?

A: You can still have em! They can easily be revamped to be either Olive or Violet, depending!

Q: I take a long time to make stuff, and I don’t RP often. Can I still join?

A: Uh-huh! We’re cool with you coming in and just hanging out with other fans in the general chat!

Q: Are there any organized events we can take part in?

A: You know it! We have events every few weeks! The assassination of the Heiress! A brainstealing robot invasion! The Grinch stole 12th Perigee’s Eve! And a tonne of other stuff, too!

Q: Tell me about the TTRPG system you mentioned!

A: Subgrubs and Snazzards is a mod of Apocalypse World, just like Monster of the Week, which you may know from The Adventure Zone Amnesty! It’s simple, to the point, and a hundred percent customisable!

Q: What does this server have over other fantroll servers?

A: Well, we’re managed with a fully functional mod team who all take equal part in running the server, tend to players needs on a moments notice, have a years worth of experience under our wings, and will actively avoid encouraging drama. Trust us- there’s a few copycat servers out there, we know, but we’re the OG, and we won’t crumble under pressure! ;D

Q: 300 players sounds like it’ll be overwhelming…

A: Not to worry! Not all of our players are active daily! Consider it more like a hotel, where many people just check in and out, with a few residents living there on a permanent basis! Either way, you’ll never run out of people to thread with!

Q: I have a question that isn’t on this list.

A: Then shoot me an ask, bud! I’ll help you out in no time!

ART IS BY @swirlygerm-art! Go follow em, you fucklenut, they’re one of Serverstuck’s beloved mods and our iconic artist!

#homestuck #hiveswap #fantroll #vast error #homestuck rp

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hpconsentfest · 5 years

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Consent Fest 2019: Masterlist

CF friends--here we are. After months of prompting, creating, betaing, revising, reading, hyping, squeeing, and guessing, it’s time for reveals.

As with last year, the mods were staggered by the depth of thought and care and time and energy that everyone put into their creations. Likewise, we were heartened every time we saw a like, reblog, kudos, comment, or other hype.

Thank you to every creators and every reader and hyper for giving this fest such a wonderful, community vibe--you folks make CF.

Now, without further ado, read on for reveals!

ART

Title: Coming loose Artist: @owlpostart Prompt: #80 Rating: E Pairing: None Warnings/Content Notes: Lots of very pornographic NSFW drawings, internalised acephobia, unenjoyable sex, bite and blood fetish. Summary: Pansy Parkinson has a lot of sex. Until she realises that it’s okay to not want to. Medium: Ink and marker on paper

Title: Human, Not Object Artist: @nifflers-n-nargles Prompt: #23 Rating: Teen Warnings/Content Notes: Street harassment, cat calling, unsolicited touching, verbal harassment of a sexual nature, fighting back, defiant woman, powerful woman Summary: Fleur Delacour has endured harassment of all kinds from men from a young age. Growing up she’s told that’s “just what men do.” As a powerful woman learning to navigate the world she finds this mentality unacceptable and chooses to live her life defiantly. Medium: Digital

Title: Something they don’t want to be afraid of Artist: @impasseart Prompt: # 21 Rating: explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Internalized Homophobia, unenjoyable sex in a flashback See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Draco struggles with his internalized homophobia and fears, even when he really wants something. Last time, it went ugly. And ugly won’t do. They have to try again. Find a way to make it better. Medium: digital art

Title: Who They Are Artist: @spaceaas Prompt: #15 Rating: G Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: genderqueer/nonbinary character, minor transphobia that is more unintended ignorance than anything else Summary: Draco’s always known who they are. They’ve just been waiting for someone to listen. Medium: Digital

FIC

Title: All The Little Signs Add Up Author: @gold-from-straw Prompt: # 49 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Past domestic abuse, past child abuse Summary: Harry starts to notice some worrying signs in his relationship with Draco. He flinches when Harry moves too quickly, he thinks everything is going to be blamed on him, and he doesn’t think his own desires count. Harry, fresh from dealing with his own childhood PTSD, jumps to some conclusions. Some of them are right, some of them are way off. Word Count: 9624

Title: Blind Item #3 Author: @postjentacular Prompt: #88 Rating: T Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy Warnings/Content Notes: tabloids, right to privacy, forced outing, homophobic slurs, rated T for swearing, british sixteen year old talking about sex, blink and you’ll miss it threat of sexual violence Summary: What’s the ssssecret doing the rounds in a certain common room? Rumour has it that the other snakes have been turning a blind eye to this burgeoning love affair, but what will the boys’ fathers say when they hear about it? Word Count: 7064

Title: Blood Will Out Author: @frnklymrshnkly Prompt: # 87 Rating: T Pairing: Marietta Edgecombe/Pansy Parkinson Warnings/Content Notes: menstruation, PMS, endometriosis, heavy bleeding, cramps, intense period pain, Healers, doctors, hospitals, exams, critique of Healing and medical institutions, family secrets, memory modification, horrible parenting, blood status discourse, self-reflection redemption arcs See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Marietta Edgecombe doesn’t need re-education. She’s done nothing wrong. She just wants to keep her head down and keep her job. At least until Pansy Parkinson starts acting weird and a visit to the Healer suddenly brings the post-war conversation too close for comfort. Word Count: 21565

Title: Capture the moment (Capture my heart) Author: @all-drarry-to-me Prompt number: 24 Rating: Mature Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Asexual Draco Malfoy, Demisexuality, Queer Character, Brief mention (from previous encounter) of Mildly Dubious Consent, Photographs, Minor Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Summary: Surrounded by photographs with just a cat to keep him company, Draco was left questioning his identity and what a new label would mean for his relationship with Harry. Word Count: 9,612

Title: Curry & Wine Author: @dorthyanndrarry Prompt: # 35 Rating: Mature Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Mentions of main character being pressured to have sex in the past Summary: Harry’s promised Draco their first proper date. What could be better than homemade curry, a little wine, a much-needed talk? Word Count: 1,651

Title: Epoximise Author: @ladderofyears Prompt: #10 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Consent Notes: Press and Tabloids, Dom/Sub Play, Sub Harry Potter, Dom Draco Malfoy, Sex Magic, Kink Spells, Coming on Demand, Dildos, Magic used as a Restraint, Panic Attacks, Discussion about Consent, Discussion about setting Ground Rules before Sexual Activity, Discussion about Safe Words, Sexual Triggers. Word count: 2487

Title: Forbidden Fruit Author: @momstiel Prompt: # 15 Rating: Teen Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Internalized Homophobia Summary: “To Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter had always been akin to forbidden fruit.” In which Harry comes out as genderqueer, and Draco envies his self-confidence. Word Count: 1,907

Title: The Generation Who Lived Author: @lettersbyelise Prompt: # 11 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Journalist Draco Malfoy, Enemies to lovers, Past relationship, Getting back together, Minor Luna/Neville, Minor Ginny/Blaise, Interview format, Post second war with Voldemort, Enthusiastic consent, Rimming, Anal sex, POV Draco Malfoy Summary: In the months leading up to the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy writes a series of articles about famous war survivors.

So far, he’s managed to interview everyone he wanted.

Everyone…except his old nemesis, his one-time lover, and the elusive war hero who stubbornly refuses to be featured in Draco’s interview series, Harry Potter. Word Count: 14761

Title:I See You In The Club Author: Elle Gray (LGray) Rating: E Pairing: Draco Malfoy/OMC Warnings/Content Notes: Sex club, Dom/sub play, Light Bondage, Age difference, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent due to Identity Issues, Ruminating on the Topic of Consent See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Draco, recently divorced (for the second time) is finally free to explore ‘other interests’. In particular, reconnecting with some long-put-aside desires to play with dominance. He’s not confident in what he’s doing, but he’s done his research, and surely this delectable young thing, kneeling in wait for him, can help?

'Hello,’ he says, and feels immediately stupid.

'Hello, Sir,’ Alex says, his voice low, barely above a whisper. Draco wonders if it’s an effort to sound sexy, or show submission, or if his throat is so well-fucked by others that he can no longer talk. He doesn’t even know if it matters. Word Count: 12909

Title: Knights in Shining Armour (Ever After Lovers) Author: @thirdeyeblinkings Prompt #: 23 Rating: M Pairing: Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour Warnings: No major archive warnings See tagset on AO3 Summary: Fleur has been objectified for most of her life, her bodily autonomy often dismissed. Being part Veela only makes matters worse. Word Count: 8.6 k

Title: Like The Sun Author: @marlenemckinn Prompt: #78 Rating: T Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black Warnings/Content Notes: Unaware Veritaserum consumption See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Sirius wants a good laugh and when he comes across some Veritaserum, he decides slipping into Remus Lupin’s, the ever guarded werewolf, pumpkin juice will be a great way to start their day. Remus ends up revealing a bit more than Sirius had anticipated. Word Count: 4033

Title: Lily Luna, Unapologetic: The Things We Don’t Talk About (But Should) Author: @nifflers-n-nargles and @slashfoxes Prompt: #39 Rating: Hard T Pairing: None Warnings/Content Notes: Implied Dubcon/Noncon, Offscreen Dubcon/Noncon, Implied Violence (offscreen), Implied vs Explicit Consent, Consent Issues, Teaching Consent, Sex Education, Peer Pressure, Harry Potter Next Generation, Badass!Lily Luna, When Internet Meets Magic, Alternative format: magazine profile Summary: “Before I can get my first question out Lily asks me, ‘When was the first time someone gave you a sex talk?’I find myself telling her about overhearing my mom in my older sister’s room when she was home on hols from Hogwarts in her fourth year—I was 10 and had just received my letter. It was the year there had been a string of love potion ‘accidents’ and I could tell my mum was worried.

She nods and jots something down in her notebook. As I continue telling her about these memories, I wonder why I’m sharing all this information with Lily. Aren’t I the one supposed to be interviewing her?

‘That sounds awful,’ she commiserates, ‘but can I ask you one more thing?’ I nod, curiosity piqued by her tone. ‘When was the first time someone talked to you about consent?’” Word Count: ~8,000

Title: Long live the beautiful heart (who find love and tear it apart) Author: @etalice Prompt: #46 Rating: GEN Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Angst, Depression, Abusive relationship See full tagset on AO3 Summary: If Harry were someone else, someone who loves and understand books, someone like Hermione or Draco, he might think of a classical tragedy. He might section the whole catastrophe neatly into five acts and make sense of it that way. But he’s not, and so he doesn’t, and, anyway it’s just the beginning of the story yet. Word Count: 6630

Title: (Never) Be Still My Beating Heart Author: @sliceosunshine Prompt: Self-Prompt Rating: M Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Trauma, Violence, some blood, Vampires, Light Dubcon Parallels, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, further explanation of dubcon tag in A/N See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Post-War, Draco decides he’s done being comfortable. Which turns out to be quite convenient as he’s thrust headlong into a case involving a Serial Biting Vampire. Worst of all, Potter’s gotten himself involved. Draco thinks he can take it, so long as his heart doesn’t give out on him along the way. Word Count: 15595

Title: a note to the boy I love Author: @violetclarity Prompt: # 81 Rating: E Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy Warnings: Underage See full tagset on AO3 Content Notes: epistolary, first person POV, established relationship, school romance, communication, consent, sexting except in letters because they are wizards, underage in that they are both seventeen (17), first time, loss of virginity (but that’s a social construct anyway), letter writing, dirty talk (sort of), vignettes, kissing, frottage, dry humping, oral sex, love confessions, boys in love Summary: Albus knows what he wants to do in bed with Scorpius, but struggles with actually talking about it. Scorpius’s solution? Writing letters. Word Count: 4,359

Title: A pink tie, a box of condoms Author: Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe Prompt: 52 Rating: E Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: See tagset on AO3 Summary: It had been months since they’d last seen each other. And if Potter didn’t show up soon… Word Count: 1459

Title: One and Only Author: @nerdherderette Prompt: # 20 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Draco Malfoy Warnings/Content Notes: Bodyguard AU, Bodyguard!Draco, Minister for Magic!Harry Potter, Pansexual Albus Potter, Potions Accident, Forced Bonding, Sharing a Bed, Legilimency, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Frottage, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Bottom!Draco Malfoy, Age Difference, Implied/Reference Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, References to Addiction, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Eventual Consensual Relationship, Romance Summary: Draco always knew his downfall would be at the hands of a Potter.He just never realised which one. Word Count: 19.6k

Title: Risks Worth Taking Author: @keyflight790 Prompt: 83 Rating: E Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Light BDSM, Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Draco and Harry broke up 78 nights ago. Only a miracle (or perhaps an errant spell) could bring them back together. Word Count: 18,149

Title: Ron Weasley and the Clothes of Doom Author: Liesha130 Prompt: #86 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Ron Weasley Warnings/Content Notes: (I honestly don’t know) Summary: Do the clothes make the man?Ron Weasley thinks he has no chance, until one night when he dresses up and Blaise Zabini can’t take his eyes off him. The solution is easy, then, right? Ron just has to keep dressing up, and Blaise will keep wanting him. But every time Ron puts the new clothes on, he’s sent spiraling off into a past filled with insecurity. Will he really be able to keep this up without going completely bonkers? And what does Blaise actually want from him, anyway? Word Count: 32,872

Title: Safe Words Author: @e-sebastian Prompt: # 47 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Consent, BDSM, Bondage, Whipping, Safe words, Safe Sane and Consensual, Kink, Family Drama, lots of book reading, Dirty Talk, Slapping, Kink Negotiation, Rough Sex, Accidental Bodily Harm, Remorse, Weasley Bashing, Molly Bashing, but please know it’s from Draco’s admittedly skewed perspective, In this house we love Molly Weasley to death even if our characters don’t always, Married couples are kinky too Summary: Draco discovers his husband has been keeping a secret from him. At first he’s amused. Then he’s curious.

The problem? Harry’s always had a hard time saying no. Word Count: 26,867

Title: Sex Ed for Witches and Wizards of All Ages Author: AhaMarimbas Prompt: # 68 Rating: E Pairing: Multi-ship Warnings/Content Notes: Major Character Death, Underage, Explicit sexual content See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Draco and Astoria decide on their wedding night that they’re not going to raise their future children with the same outdated traditions they were raised with, especially relating to love and sex. They never could have predicted exactly how much that decision would change Scorpius’ life. Word Count: 76 732

Title: So sweet with that blood in your teeth Author: @bangyababy Prompt: # 16 Rating: E Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Dom/Sub, Consent issues, vampires, sleep issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Mind manipulation, depression See full tagset on AO3 Summary: Harry works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. His latest case his to stop a vampire uprising lead by none other than Draco Malfoy. Malfoy seems willing to negotiate with the Ministry. There’s just one small condition: Harry has to agree to be Malfoy’s dinner. Word Count: 25k

Title: swallow your words Author: @candybarrnerd Prompt: # 67 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: No archive warnings apply Summary: The truth is, not many things are known about the magic that is behind soulmarks. They’ll turn up when they want and not before.

The truth is, you don’t get a choice in your soulmark. The truth is, not everyone is okay with that. Word Count: 9,140

Title: That’s Ace Author: @acciotomriddle Prompt: Self-prompt Rating: Explicit Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Asexual character, bisexual character, sex toys, non-penetrative sex, mutual masturbation, monogamy Summary: Charlie is asexual. Harry isn’t. They still find a way to satisfy both of their needs, however Word Count: 2080

Title: They Talked Author: @unadulteratedstorycollector Prompt: Self-prompt Rating: Teen Pairing: Ron & Draco (platonic) Warnings/Content Notes: none Summary: Is it ok if they talk? Draco isn’t sure, but it keeps happening. Word Count: 1094

Title: This Year’s Love Author: @thusspoketrish Prompt: Self-Prompt. H/D—how to navigate feelings for your best mate. Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: This story discusses complex topics such as slut-shaming, promiscuity, heartbreak, dating culture(s), and sexual autonomy within everyday life. See full tagset on AO3 Summary: This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love. Word Count: 84000

Title: A Touch Of Respect Author: @rose-grangerweasleyisbae Prompt: #90 Rating: Teen Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Family Drama, Touch Phobia, Panic Attacks, Old Fashioned Parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Past Minor Character Death (Astoria), Past Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter, Child in Hospital Summary: Five year old Scorpius isn’t fond of people touching him, and he has a million reasons for it. However, his father is of the opinion that just saying ‘no’ should be enough without giving any of those reasons, but not everyone in his new-found family agrees. Word Count: 23.432

Title: Unconditional Author: @ladderofyears Prompt: #32 Rating: Teen and up Pairing: Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy Warnings/Consent Notes: Anxiety, Boys in Love, First Boyfriend, First Kiss, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Feelings of Inadequacy in a relationship, Discussions of Pyschological and Emotional Manipulation, Relationship Discussions, non-consensual touching, Scorpius gives good advice, Mild Bigoted Language to describe Asexuality, Discussions about Healthy Relationships, Demisexual Albus Potter, Awakening Feelings of Desire, Eventual happy Ending. Word count: 7277

Title: The Way Your Heart Touches Mine Author: @bafflinghaze Prompt: # 56 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: N/A Summary: What does it mean when a certain someone gives you numerous gifts on ordinary days? Harry’s kind of sure (and mostly hoping) that Draco likes him. So why hasn’t Draco asked him out yet? Word Count: 3.9k

Title: The Words that Pass Between Us Author: @elderxprice Prompt: # 28 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: POV Draco Malfoy; Invasion of Privacy; Loss of Trust; Infidelity; Misogyny, Classism, Unredeemed Draco Malfoy, Verbal Abuse of a House Elf Summary: Sometimes, Draco draws pictures of what could have been, had he made all the right choices: Draco in the Slug Club; Draco holding the Quidditch World Cup; Draco holding hands with some nameless, faceless person whose become some sick, secret sort of friend. He’s on every page Draco has touched. He flies with him, sleeps with him, laughs with him. And sometimes, if he pretends hard enough, Draco swears he can feel this person’s breath against his neck; a whispered I love you that has him pressing into the mattress every night, only to wake up alone wishing it were real. Word Count: 10,047

Title: Working Out The Kinks Author: @potter-loves-malfoy Prompt: #18 Rating: E Pairing: Jeddy Warnings/Content Notes: Mild Dom/Sub Elements, Mild DubCon See full tagset on AO3 Summary:

There are three things James Sirius Potter is certain of:

One: He’s loved his boyfriend since he learned what romantic love was;

Two: There is nothing James wants more than said boyfriend to pound him into the mattress;

Three: His boyfriend, Teddy Lupin, can never find out about number two.

—or—

Four times James tried to pretend he wasn’t submissive and the one time he didn’t.

Word Count: 6,247

Title: You Set My Soul Alight Author: @parkkate Prompt: #13 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Warnings/Content Notes: Post-War, Auror partners, case fic, enemies to lovers, mystery, romance, adventure, pining, getting together, forced proximity, bed sharing, banter, UST, loss of virginity, first time, dub-con, consent issues, secrets, misunderstandings, miscommunication, sleep talking, frottage, rimming, face-sitting, intergluteal sex, anal sex, switching, blow jobs, fluff, angst, angst with a happy ending, references to suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced child abuse, references to depression, mental health issues, emotional hurt/comfort, minor character death, arguing, reconciliation, ewe Summary: Students are going missing at Hogwarts, but that’s not the only mystery Draco is determined to solve. Something’s going on with Potter. He can deny it all he wants. Draco is going to find out what it is. Unfortunately, trying to get to the bottom of it has some unexpected consequences and if Draco isn’t careful, he’s going to jeopardise their mission. Word Count: 54k

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