#excited to wear this on a belt when I'm wearing a dress or skirt without pockets

[draculiza]

I made a belt pouch from old jeans and scrap fabric today c: very much inspired by @coveredinredpaint bc the second I saw their pouch (in this post) I was so motivated to make my own 🦇

[oxandthorn]

KAFKA x HOSHINA WEDDING AU 💖💐✨

garter (M rating, 557 words)

a present from hoshina to kafka.

"Shiro, what are you doing?" Kafka asked.

Having pushed him delicately onto the lavish couch, Hoshina gently pulled and grabbed at the billowing fabrics around Kafka, moving them to ensure nothing was taut or tensed as they relocated to the comfy embrace of the sofa.

Hoshina was far too focused to answer. Kafka let out a gasp when Hoshina pressed and traced his fingers up and down his stomach. 

Taking care to not tear or press on the dress’ flowing skirt, Hoshina climbed onto the couch, leaning over Kafka. He sweetly pushed and pulled the frills and folds away to expose Kafka’s legs.

Hoshina’s fingers danced lightly around Kafka’s thigh, tracing the lace edging of his sheer white thigh stocking. He eyed the thin, yet cute garter belt that hugged his thigh intently.

Kafka's thick and buxom thighs drowned in satin and tulle. It drove Hoshina mad.

Kafka blushed, watching Hoshina devour him with his eyes.

"What do you want?" Kafka asked again, letting out a bashful laugh.

Hoshina blinked, returning back to reality.

"Sorry," he laughed.

"I was just thinking about all the things I'm going to do to you tonight."

Kafka shook his head embarrassedly. He patiently waited for Hoshina to speak.

"I got somethin' for ya."

Hoshina tugged at his collar and then proceeded to unbutton it. Kafka looked up at him, completely frozen with excitement.

He pulled something out of his inside pocket. It jingled. 

"What… Is that?" Kafka asked, genuinely curious.

"Your garter belt."

He smiled smiled widely, revealing his sharp canines. It was his typical impish smirk that typically denoted something naughty was afoot.

Hoshina playfully twirled it around a single finger. It was completely black (of course it was), with a thicker band with intricately designed lace. The bow’s spiralling tails fluttered as the small bells attached continued to play its quiet melody.

Kafka sighed, "I’m already wearing one…It came with the stockings."

“True––” Hoshina began, “But I want you to wear mine.”

Kafka rolled his eyes, smiling absentmindedly.  He could feel his cheeks heating up. Hoshina had that effect on him.

"Of course you do," Kafka laughed.

Of course, Hoshina would do something like this.

Without missing a beat, Hoshina pulled at the default garter with his ring finger, pulling it quickly down Kafka’s thigh. He then pushed it down over his knee and calf. Hoshina plucked it from Kafka’s ankle, tossing it carelessly to the ground.

Hoshina promptly slipped Kafka’s new garter up his calf, seeing it expand as his leg became thicker and full as he pulled it up. With a quick and forceful tug, Hoshina pulled it to meet the edge of his thigh stocking.

When he abruptly let go, it snapped, startling Kafka, “Hey!”

The sight of Kafka's thigh fat bubbling and jostling made delighted and excited Hoshina. With a laugh, Kafka playfully nudged him.

“That hurt!”

“Don’t be a baby,” Hoshina clicked his tongue, teasing him.

Kafka sighed, already hot and flustered by Hoshina–– The main event hadn’t even started yet. He looked up at Hoshina, a goofy smile slapped across his face.

"You're literally going to take it off in what–– A couple of hours? What's the point?"

Hoshina paused for a moment, thinking. And then he smirked, "I wanted to be the one to put it on you, and then take it off."

[galaxyedging]

For @movievillainess721

Dark!Jack Daniels x f!reader

WC: 3.4k

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you try to draw out Jack's darker side.

Warnings: CNC vibes. Rough, degrading sex. Jack takes what he wants, but the reader is into it.

Author's Note: Not proofread or edited. I'm just happy that I wrote a fic.

Careful What You Wish For

The weighty pendant necklace that sits perfectly in your cleavage is the only cool spot on your skin as Jack sets eyes on you from across the room. Even with the dress you wear barely covering your body, the room feels unbearably hot. The skin on show clearly has Jack's attention but it's not for him. You want every other set of eyes in the room on you. You practically float across the dance floor propelled by the music and the waves of admiration coming off of the Stateman's guests.

Before you can fully cross the dance floor and get within Jack's grasp you gracefully accept an offer for a dance Agent Kahlúa. The placement of the handsome agents' hands just skirts the edge of inappropriate as you dance. He's your first dance partner that night, but he is far from your last. Each one of them has happily indulged in the Statesman's finest reserve. Your late appearance was planned to ensure it. The amber liquid makes them loose with their desires. Their eyes linger where their hands don't touch. Time passes in a blur as excitement and anxiety claw at your throat. The temptation to look over at Jack is so strong. His gaze is magnetic, breaking the pull, you force yourself to leave.

The cold night air adds to the goosebumps across your flesh and the stiffness of your nipples. The steady click of your heels speeds up as you lose your nerve. Shaking hands try to retrieve your car keys until they are stilled by larger, stronger ones.

“Now I know you ain't leaving without sharing a dance with me.” Jack's voice is low in your ear as he pulls you flush to him.

The hot hands that were on yours grip your hips to sway you gently. His nose travels down from your hair to your neck, his soft lips skim the skin there until he stops abruptly.

“I can smell them on you.” He lets out a huff of laughter. “I know what game you're playing. Do you think I'm that easy?” His grip on your hips tightens, his short nails start to dig into your flesh. You can picture the little half moons forming there.

“N-no.” You stammer.

Gracefully, Jack spins you out of his hands until you're facing him. His dancer's flare is dropped when he grabs your throat, squeezing the sides gently. “Lying whore. Get in the fuckin’ car.”

With the release of Jack's hand, a full, deep breath makes your head spin. Getting yourself together, you climb into your passenger seat. Jack's profile is set firm as he sits in the driver's seat.

“Jack, I…” you begin.

“You shut your mouth.” You recoil as Jack barks at you. “I don't want to hear any more lies. In fact, come here.”

Your neat updo is destroyed by Jack's fingers winding in the silken strands to drag you across the bench seat. His other hand works on his belt buckle. Once his cock is free he holds the base steady to force the tip past your lips.

“You keep your mouth on that. It'll stop you runnin’ it an’ lyin’ to me.” His breath hitches a little when your mouth settles around him.

The drive isn't long but Jack's grunts, every time you hit a bump or a curve in the road prompting his cock to shift in your warm mouth, makes it feel longer.

By the time Jack has you spread out naked tied to his bed, you're dripping onto his sheets in anticipation.

“Hmmm. See this is why I told you to wax that pussy bare for me. I can see every drop of what I do to you. All this just from holding my cock in your mouth. Dirty bitch.” he'd pulled off his shirt as he spoke.

The soft lamp light highlights the curves and dips of his hard earned muscles. Your mouth that had been parched by your heavy breathing, and makeshift gag, begins to water at the sight. His jeans go next instantly revealing his rock hard cock. Your pussy floods even more than your mouth. With a smirk, Jack gathers some of your wetness on his fingers. His smirk grows to a grin when you whimper.

“Poor baby. Just achin’ to be touched.” A deep groan punctuates his sentence as he wraps his hand around his girth. “Ah. Do you want this? Huh? Want me to fuck you…until you cream over my cock? Until that tight like cunt milks my cum…fuck.” His fist violently jerks his cock. “You love that cunt being filled, don't you? You've always let me take you raw. You take my cock…you take my…oh shit. Ugh.” He snarls through his release. The first spurt of his cum paints the hardwood floor. The next few drip down his fist, his cock and thick thighs. “Mmm. That's better. I can think clearly now. I wouldn't wanna rush through your punishment just because my balls ache. Now, what to do to you first.”

Wiping his hand on his discarded shirt, Jack struts around the bed weighing up his opinions.

“I think I'll start with those pretty tits. Since you practically had them out all night.” The shirt is dropped in favor of retrieving his whip from his dresser.

The bed dips as Jack climbs onto it, swinging his leg over your hips to straddle you. His softening cock lays at the top of your mound.

“Let me get that for you, Darlin’.” Jack smiles as he finally removes your wadded up panties from your mouth now dripping with your saliva as well as your arousal. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds.”

The first one rings out of you when he drags the ridges of his whip across your nipple. The pain is electric, he repeats the motion a few times before bending the whip until it pinches. The pull of the whip and the arch of your spine draw you to him as you cry out.

“Shh. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. Here.” Jack releases your nipple to suck it into his mouth, his tongue runs soothingly across it. “After what you did, you have a lot of punishment comin’ I don't want you to go passin’ out on me. You need t’ take your pain like the big girl you've been acting like.”

Once your body relaxes Jack nips at the flesh of your breast earning another cry from you. “Music to my ears, Sugar. Let's move on.”

Jack lifts up off you to grab something from his bedside draw. A familiar sweet cherry scent fills the air. Jack turns back to you with a handful of lube before picking up his whip. His brown eyes stare vacantly into yours as he spreads the lube on his whip handle. Your whole body tensed at the thought of what Jack had planned.

“If you tense up it'll be worse. Just relax, like you were about having all those agents hands on you.”

The blunt end of the whip pushing at your entrance had you even more tense.

“Come on, Honey. You know you can take it. Just think of it like one of those other cocks you were nearly bouncing on tonight.”

“Jack, you know that I wouldn't…ahh.” You sobbed as the handle finally slips inside you.

Jack pushed it in to silence you. “No more lyin’. Be honest. If I wasn't in your life, you would have fucked one of them tonight.”

The whip handle slips deeper as his words arouse you. “I know you'd take Kahlúa balls deep. Maybe I should have brought him back to fuck you while you drooled on my cock.” He forces the handle deeper, the painful stretch starts to give way to pleasure as it scrapes along your g-spot. Even without feeling the reaction of your pussy around him, Jack knows exactly how to work you.

“There you go.” The wet sound of the handle pumping in and out of your cunt builds until you come, hard, with a howl of Jack's name.

As the waves of pleasure make your pussy contract it clamps down on the whip and keeps it in place. Jack yanks at the whip mixing more pain with your pleasure before shoving it back in. Setting a brutal pace he forces you to come on the object again. All Jack's sweetness and manners that he shows in public are completely gone. All that remains is a dark shadow of him. There's the odd ‘Sugar’ thrown in but the rest of his words are cruel and mocking. Once the handle slips so deeply on the wave of your arousal and ecstasy that it grazes your cervix you begin to cry at being so full.

“Jack. Please. It's too…much.” the non-waterproof mascara, that Jack had requested you wear, runs down your cheeks as you sob. “Please. Too full.”

A deep bark of a laugh shocks you. It sends a chill through you that shakes you even more than the bone rattling orgasms he has given you. “Too full? No, Darlin’. You don't know what full is.”

Before you know what's happening Jack is uncuffing your feet, wrenching your hips up and pulling your ass against his thighs as he kneels on the bed. The whip is still snuggly inside you as Jack presses a finger tip to your other hole.

“No..no. I can't…” any further protest is detailed by Jack snatching the air from your lungs as he pushes his ring finger in to the knuckle.

“Oh, you can. I'm going to use this tight little hole for my pleasure. And you're going to let me.” One hand pushes at the whip while another finger prods at your rim to punctuate his point. “You know you will let Ol’Jack do whatever he wants to you. Won't you, Honey? Just to keep me fucking you.”

His fingers and the foreign object start to feel like violations. “I can't…” You weep hoping he will take pity on you.

“Oh, it's okay, Sweetheart. I'll make it easier for you.” Jack eases his fingers out and leaves the room.

The beat of your heart in your ears drowns out all the rational thinking you should be doing. Is this too rough? Is he crossing a line? Is this still the Jack you know?

None of it matters when he returns and his naked body is pressed against your as he leans over to undo your cuffs. When you see that he went to the kitchen to get some honey, you relax a little. Which makes it all the more easy for Jack to manhandle you onto your front and cuff you back in place. The whip nudges your g-spot when Jack gathers the other end of the whip. As his thumb slips inside you, his whip cracks against the flesh of your plump ass.

“Jack!” Black tears drip onto the bed below.

“Hush, Baby. I'll take care of you.” A cool liquid drips onto your ass. It soothes the sting for a moment until Jack licks it off. Honey, you think. It's the last coherent thought that you have for a long while. Jack repeats the sting of the whip followed by the balm of honey and warm tongue until you ass is covered in welts and honey drips down to your pussy. It floods your hole when Jack pulls out the three fingers he has managed to work inside of you. Jack's tongue delves in, chasing the sweetness of honey mixed with the taste of your shame. He could feel your embarrassment at letting him play with your virgin hole. His cock was leaking at the thought of pressing through each ring of muscle until you were stuffed full of his big, fat length. He had you crying just from stuffing your pussy. He couldn't wait to hear the sounds you'd make when he had you completely full. He wondered if you'd beg or try to push him off you. His cock twitched at the thought.

“So sweet. I can't wait to fill it.” Jack's hands spreading your cheeks makes your legs shake with nerves. “This is happening either way. You might as well relax. If you're a good girl, I'll make you come while I fill your tight hole with my cum.”

The terrifying thought that Jack might not stop at your safe word crosses your mind. He's right, this is happening either way because you can't risk finding out the answer to that thought. It's better to just try to enjoy it than to have your faith in Jack shattered.

“Oh, fuck.” Jack bites off as he forces the tip of his cock inside you.

His thigh nudges the whip into you, both sensations have you gasping. Jack's fingertips trace the red lines on your soft cheeks as his strong hands keep them spread. The rhythm he sets is off kilter. Is deep and sporadic. It’s purely for his pleasure. He's using you. Even when he grabs the handle in your pussy he only angles it to push against your thin walls to give him another ridge to drag his cockhead over. Another orgasm had been steadily building for you until Jack moved the whip. The new angle is uncomfortable.

“Jack. No. Stop.” Your voice isn't strong but it's loud enough for him to hear.

“Don't say that, Honey Bee. You're so close. Here.” Jack drags you up, flush against his heaving chest. His fingers find your slick clit and begin to rub harshly. “Come on. Come for me.”

“I can't. Please, stop.” There's even less conviction I'm your voice as the pleasure builds around any pain or discomfort.

“Shit. That's my girl. Take it. Take it. Fuck. Gonna blow my load. Squeeze my cock. Fuck. Do it.” Jack's words speed up with his movements.

His cock pounds impossibly deep, stretching out your intimate hole. The whip slams against your cervix and everything builds under his fingers at your clit.

“I…” it's all too much. You're desperate to come but you can't.

Jack's hips falter too. Like he's on the edge but can't get himself over.

“Fuck. Tell me ‘no’ again. Tell me to stop. Tell me I'm a bad man.” Jack's voice quivers for a second. “Tell me you fucking love it. Tell me you know I can take anything I want from you.”

“Jack. No. Stop. Please.” You push back against him.

You can feel him swelling inside you. “Fuck. Yes.”

“Stop, Jack. I want you to stop.” The little game you'd started tonight, goading Jack into giving it to you rough, took a twisted turn and you were secretly loving it. “Please.”

“You want me to stop? You don't want me dick in your ass? Make me.” Jack taunts. His hips pick up speed. His balls are pressed right up against your ass and he thrusts shallowly, enjoying the tight grip of you.

“Stop!” You yell trying to buck him off like a sick, twisted rodeo.

Jack's well built arms wrap around you, trapping you against him.

“That's it. Make me so fuckin’ hard. Gonna make me..oh shit. You can't stop…me…using you. My lit..te..whore. Fuucck.” Jack's head is thrown back as he practically howls through his release.

You own crashes into as his words turn you on even further. Conflicting emotions rise in you once the initial rush of endorphins is over. You feel satisfied? Violated? Safe? Scared? The thoughts can't fully form as your brain is as limp as your body. A body that Jack is manhandling again. His work-rough hands skim your hot skin as he undoes your cuffs. They wrap around your ankles as he slips your feet into dirty panties. Pulling you up to stand he yanks them up over your hips, so forcefully that they slip into the seam of your pussy and send a reminder of the pain there. Next, your dress is unceremoniously dragged over your head.

“Jack?” You brow furrows while he looks back expressionless. “Jack?”

The grip he has on your upper arm hurts as he drags you through his immaculate penthouse to his front door. The no expense spared carpet in the hallway outside cushions your fall as Jack throws you on your ass outside his door. Your shoes and purse are dumped unceremoniously next to your prone form. With your head spinning all you can do is lay there and watch as Jack disappears for a second.

When he comes back he steps out into the hallway with you. “Cover yourself up before the neighbors see.” He swats at your tit left hanging out of your dress before gripping it and shoving it back under the material. His other hand clutches some dollar bills. “Since you give up your whore pussy for free. I thought I'd at least pay your cab fare. I was going to stuff it into your bra but you don't even have one on.” He hovers over you seemingly contemplating, naked as the day he was born. “I know.” In one swift move he shoves the bills down your sodden panties. His knuckle grazing your swollen clit makes you moan quietly. His eyes snapping to yours make you instantly regret the sound. “Look at you. Used and tossed out like trash but still wanting it. Dirty little bitch. Does that hungry pussy need to come again?”

As if it heard him, your pussy clenches. You want him to make you come again but everything is too sore. You feel thoroughly used. There's nothing left for your own pleasure. All you can do is slump back on your elbows, empty.

“Aw. Is that cunt all done for the night?” Jack sinks to his knees before you. “Maybe I've been a little too rough with it. I'm sorry. Where are my manners?” With the most softness he has shown all night, Jack kisses up your thigh until his nose grazes the wadded up bills in your thin panties. Holding them aside he looks at your bare pussy with something akin to admiration in his eyes. “She sure is a pretty little thing.” The end of his sentence is spoken against your lower lips as he prepares to part them with his tongue. The first swipe across your clit has your mewling. “Oh, Darlin’ is that what you need? Jack's tongue?”

He gives a few more licks with the barest tip of his tongue.

“Oh, Jack.” You writhe against the plush carpet.

This was more like the first time. When he'd come back from a mission, pent up and needy. He’d at least made you come on his mustache before fucking you raw over your desk.

“You like that? Come to think of it, a warm wet mouth does feel good down there.” In a flurry of movement he's standing before you where he's dragged you up to your knees. His cock is more than half hard as he pumps himself near your face. “Open up.” He pulls harshly at your hair and thrusts into your mouth when you yelp.

The world spins again. Conflicting feelings are joined by conflicting thoughts. You'd wanted it rough. You'd wanted to play his whore. Were you prepared for it not to be an act? To just be used and degraded for his pleasure. A look in the floor to ceiling windows next to you gave you your answer.

Reflected in the glass against the night's sky was a part of you you'd never see before. She was on her knees, two large hands held her head in place while a thick cock was being pumped in and out of her throat. She gagged now and then as drool and tears ran down her no longer perfectly made up face. Her own hands groped at her tits, playing with her sore nipple to chase the earlier high. Her other hand worked furiously at her clit chasing down her next orgasm. Her juices soaked the cash in her ruined panties. You had never seen her before but you knew exactly who she was. Jack's Whore.

Tags (sorry if this isn't your kind of thing. I just haven't tagged you guys in a while.)

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

[myfemmestoragechest]

This is so familiar to me. That *heavy breathing* caption...

I don't know if anyone could ever relate to the feeling of being a guy purchasing lingerie for yourself in public.

Here's the best way I can describe it: It's like an adrenaline rush, but at the same time it feels like you're about to have a panic attack because you're afraid of the whispers and attention that you might get. If you ever been through this as a kid growing up because you were "weird" and/or awkward, multiply that feeling by 100. The "I'm purchasing it for my girlfriend" cover-up? Definitely been there and told that lie. Once the purchase is made, you're trying to play it cool. At this point, you are experiencing a mixture of feelings. Paranoia because you're either worried about running into familiar faces who saw you buying lingerie in the store and if you're single and making that purchase, that feeling is amplified. That where the guilt, regret and embarrassment hits you and all of those hit at the same time and it sucks because you bought something that you liked and really wanted and you're supposed to be satisfied with your purchase. Now you're trying rush out of the building as quick as you can without drawing any attention to yourself. As you're traveling home, all of those horrible feelings get replaced with feelings of excitement and joy because now you can't wait to get home. I felt it when I got into that Uber on the way home. It's such an odd feeling because once you walk into your home, it feels like you committed a crime and got away. But the best part is heading off to your room. That feeling of bliss and euphoria hits you when you're finally in your room closed off from the rest of the world. Shedding off your male clothes is almost like taking off a heavy suit of armor some days and I'm only speaking for myself on this. I don't hate being a guy, but it's days where I would like to dress feminine even if it's for a few hours. That's why when you're finally naked and you finally get to slide on those panties for the first time, that feeling of joy is intense and hits you like a wave. Sliding my first pair of stockings on gave such a high that I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Once I had everything on, I spent so much time staring at myself admiring how I looked. I remember going into the bathroom for the 1st time and seeing how I looked. I didn't like how looked in the babydoll that much because of my stomach, but I love how I looked in a pair lace and satin panties with a lace garter belt and stockings on. I spent minutes checking out my legs and butt (I love my butt and there are women who love my butt as well) in the mirror. I was so in love with what I was seeing. For the first time, I saw myself in lingerie and I liked what I saw and how every piece of fabric felt against my skin. I ended up falling asleep in everything that I was wearing that night. I almost forgot that I had a roommate and came so close to walking out into the living room still in my lingerie. I wanted to spend the whole day in my lingerie or at least put on a nice top, skirt and heels. Then reality set in. If my roommate would have saw me in that, I don't think I could have handled the shame and embarrassment that I would have felt in that moment. So I removed everything I had on and put on my boxers, sweatpants and t-shirt. I shoved my lingerie underneath my bed and went about the rest of my day. I knew that I had to go back out into the world in my same work uniform or in another pair of Levi's and a t-shirt wondering when I would when the next time I was going to look and feel cute & feminine again.

[katedrakeohd]

A Stolen Moment - Part 3

A The Royal Masquerade Fanfiction

Part One / Part Two

...................

Cast of Characters: (MC) Julia Aster, Kayden Vescovi, Teapot the guard, various marketplace folk.

Rated: PG

.................

Part Three : The Mariner and the Maiden

I nudge my horse to follow Kaydan as he pulls away from the line of carriages. After turning a bend in the road the sound of the carriage wheels and trotting horses fades and as I look over at Kaydan he seems to have relaxed a little.

"A change of scenery is nice." I venture, still feeling uncertain about where Kaydan is leading me.

When he looks over at me his usual stoic, unreadable expression has fallen away, and he gives me a happy smile that lights up his whole face.

"This kind of change is welcome. It feels like a lifetime since I've explored town as a free man without responsibilities."

I laugh, "You're still responsible for me, and to get us back before we're missed."

He nods, "Be that as it may, for now I don't want us to be Crown Shield or Lady Aster. Let's escape from that life and choose to be other people, if only for a short time."

As the bustling marketplace on the edge of town comes into view I feel a sense of wonder at the crowd of people and the brightly colored awnings.

"Who shall we be then?" I ask, as I look at the various people in the market for inspiration.

Kaydan looks at me for a long moment and then leads us toward a hotel next to the market. He dismounts his horse and ties it to a hitching post and then secures my horse before offering his help to get me down.

The slippery fabric of my dress causes me to slide sideways out of the saddle too quickly and with a yelp of surprise I find myself falling down on top of him. Somehow he manages to catch me in his arms, although he has to shuffle his feet a bit to not end up on the ground himself.

As he holds me tightly against his chest I can feel him start to laugh. "If I remember correctly this is the second time you've fallen into my arms."

Trying to catch my breath from the shock of falling I suddenly realize how close my lips are to his. I touch his cheek and smile, dropping my voice to a whisper, "Thankyou Kaydan, now perhaps you should put me down. People are staring."

I can feel his body stiffen momentarily, as he blushes and gently puts me down on my feet.

Fixing my skirt and then brushing my hair back over my shoulder, I try to push aside how intimate it had felt to be held in his arms so tightly. "So what were we talking about?"

Kaydan is busy putting his riding gloves in his saddle bag, and I notice he's having trouble meeting my eyes. He's so cute when he gets all flustered. Clearing his throat he straightens up and takes a quick glance around the market.

"We were going to choose new identities so we could escape court for a moment."

"Oh that's right, such a clever idea. You choose for me and then I'll choose for you." I say.

He looks at me for a few seconds, and I can only guess at what he's thinking. Finally he starts walking toward the lineup of shopping stalls and I hurry to catch up.

"I'd choose an Artist or Painter for you. As a scribe you're no stranger to holding a quill and making intricate designs on paper. I can easily imagine you as a Great Master's apprentice walking around the market looking for inspiration."

I quirk an eyebrow, "That's oddly specific, you think I'd be a good painter?"

"You're highly intelligent and are used to working independently just as a painter would. I've seen your creativity in action as you easily adapt to any situation, just like a painter might improvise with colour to make something uniquely their own creation."

I can't help but smile at his unexpected compliments. "Why thankyou kindly, I accept. Just like a painter, as a scribe I was no stranger to having my fingers stained by my medium. So you've chosen well."

He nods, offering me his arm, I smile as I tuck my hand in the crook of his elbow. As we stroll toward the market vendors together he asks, "So what's my story then? Julia the artist. Paint me a picture."

"Well let me see. You're a mariner on leave and looking for some fun before you have to go back to sea. And while you're ashore you meet a beautiful young painter in search of her next masterpiece."

"A mariner you say?"

"Yes, a mariner and a poet. Your fellow shipmates are so jealous of your prowess with words, and demand that you tell them stories every night as they lay in their bunks."

Kaydan laughs, "I'm hardly a storyteller, definitely not a poet."

I smile and give his arm a squeeze, "Oh I don't know about that. I've seen you with your fellow guardsmen, and there's no doubt they're a colorful bunch. I bet you could tell me a story about each of them."

Kaydan chuckles, blushing a bit as he lowers his voice. "None fit for a Lady's ears I'm afraid."

"I don't know Kaydan, what would you tell them about today? Is your company not worthy of inspiring a few words?"

He looks at me as if his story is written all over my face, and as his eyes linger on me I see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "I say that story hasn't been written yet. And if I were to put quill to paper I would surely keep this story for myself."

Between the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds of the market and the pleasure of having Kaydan at my side I feel positively giddy with excitement. But I can't resist the urge to take my 'Mariner' off of guard duty.

"Well this muse needs to stretch her legs a little. There's plenty of market to see so let's split up, and explore. Come find me later and we'll see where our story goes."

"Are you ok wandering the market alone? You know this goes against every bit of my training as a guard." He warns, looking concerned.

"Aha, well you're not a guard at the moment. You're a mariner out looking for treasures. Besides like you said I'm independent, capable and smart. And in this dress I stand out like a sail on the horizon anyway. I'm not going to run away, just keep an eye on me and I'll keep an eye out for you."

With a sigh Kaydan steps away from me, "Ok fine, we'll explore the market separately. But only for a little while."

"I promise if anything bad happens I'll scream and make a fuss, so that you can come running and be my knight in leather armor."

While Kaydan reluctantly blends into the crowd of people. I choose a parallel path of market vendors and check out the wares. Under an awning woven with a colorful design, I approach a lady wearing flowing robes. She's standing behind a display of delicate glass bottles. Some have wooden or glass stoppers and others are open to be smelled or sampled. From the mixed spicy, floral and musky aromas I can tell she's selling perfumes.

She smiles at me, "Good morrow to you M'lady, would you care to sample a new scent today?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

"Something sweet and floral or something musky with a hint of spice?"

Being around Kaydan I'm reminded of the strong scent of musk and leather. Which works nicely on him. My own toiletries table always has rosewater and citrusy scents for me to wear thanks to my sister Annalise. Today I want something different.

"Do you have anything spicy and floral? I'm trying to draw someone's attention."

The lady smiles and picks up an empty bottle, she adds a few drops from various other bottles and then a clear liquid to dilute them. After placing the stopper she gives it a little shake and then hands me the dampened cap to sniff.

"Tell me what you think of this." She says with a grin.

Bringing the cap to my nose I'm assaulted by a heady dizzying scent of flowers and some kind of unknown spice. It makes me cough at first, but then as I catch a whiff on the breeze I inhale deeply and the scent mellows to something more pleasant.

"I like it. I'll take the whole bottle."

I hand her the cap and she secures it to the bottle and then I give her some coins from my purse. She wraps the bottle in a scrap of cloth and then hands it to me. As other people gather around me to look at her perfumes, I nod my thanks and move on.

Undoing the cap I dab some of the perfume on my neck and into my hair at the nape. I'm hoping Kaydan notices it, but I feel a knot in my stomach at the thought of Hector smelling it too. I have no interest in being matched with another strange suitor, but my duty to the Crown requires it. I tuck the bottle away in my pocket, and move along the row.

Looking across through the crowd I search for Kaydan. A catch sight of a pair of broad shoulders and a head of dark hair but he's turned away from me and I'm not sure if it's him.

I quickly pass by a group of vendors hocking various meats and roasted animals on sticks that make my stomach turn in unhappy ways. And then I come across a kindly middle aged woman sitting quietly and knitting behind her display of various handmade objects of leather and wood.

I still have a few coins left and I want to buy something for Kaydan. The objects vary from hand carved wooden chess sets, boxes of gambling dice, various leather belts and pieces of braided jewelry and a collection of small leather bound books.

I'm hoping any of these things might bring him some enjoyment, whether he played games with his fellow guards or needed replacement leather pieces for whatever. But as a lover of books myself it's those that catch my eye. I run my finger along the spine of a brown book with an embossed leather cover.

The lady smiles at me, and sets her needlework aside. "Good day to you Ma'am is there something that catches your interest?"

I smile as I pick up the book and hold it out to her, "Yes, what can you tell me about these books?"

"They're books rescued from the private library of a nobleman who had no heirs to pass them down to. The new Duke and Duchess of Valtoria had no use for them when they took over the manor and decided to renovate."

Looking down at the book in my hand, and at all the other books. I can't believe my good fortune at finding these lost treasures, but alas I only have enough coins for one. Opening the book I see it's a handwritten journal containing snippets of poetry. Apart from the first handful of pages the rest are blank.

When I had given Kaydan the book from my sister's collection, he had admitted to not owning any. With this journal he would have two, and hopefully he'll be inspired to write down his thoughts when he has time alone. I don't know how often he gets the chance to read, especially amidst the company of his fellow guards. But I want him to have something else to remember me by once my marriage to Hector takes me away from him. Thinking about Hector makes me feel uncomfortable, but I shake it off and offer to pay for the journal.

The lady smiles, holding up her hand and shaking her head. "You were kind enough to show interest in a piece of someone who was dear to me, please just take it and give it a loving home."

"Are you sure? I can offer a few coins for your trouble."

"I'm sure, pass it along to someone you love so that his words aren't forgotten."

I smile and shake the hand of the woman after she wraps the book up for me. "Thankyou so much."

With a nod she goes back to her chair and resumes her knitting.

Tucking the wrapped book under my arm I continue to the end of the market and find myself in the middle of the town square. A small crowd has gathered to listen to a trio of stringed musicians. Their lively tune has many people clapping hands or tapping their feet. A few brave souls have even paired up to dance.

I'm thoroughly engrossed in the entertainment and don't hear Kaydan approach me from behind. When he places his hand gently on my arm I gasp and stumble back into him. "Kaydan! You frightened me."

He leans down and whispers in my ear, "That's the fun part, because catching you off guard means you end up in my arms."

I grin and nudge him on the arm as he steps in next to be, "Is this the mariner talking? Be careful there Kaydan, lest your verbal innuendo earn you the same nefarious reputation as your brother Cyrus."

"Half-.."

"Sorry, half-brother."

Kaydan shakes his head looking slightly offended, "I would have to crawl on my belly in the muck in order to stoop low enough to reach his level of depravity."

"Relax I'm only playing with you. I know you're a much more honorable man than Cyrus could ever hope to be."

Continue on to the next

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@gardeningourmet @samihatuli @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @mfackenthal @bobasheebaby @pedudley @be-still-my-aching-heart @krishu213 @ibldw-main @chaotichuman0090 @addictedtodrakefanfic

[veronicassadboi]

Jughead and Veronica accidentally doing a couples costume for halloween even though they aren't dating? (I'm addicted to angst and unresolved sexual tension lol)

Man, I loved this prompt, though I feel my writing was a little depthless because I try to stay under 2000 words (because if I don’t I start to waffle and I overcommit myself) but I could have gone on.

Note: I don’t know if anyone knows much about popeye these days. But I’m sure people have watched The Office so here we are.

——-

Veronica stands with flushed cheeks, hands resting on her hips where her black skirt starts but the waistband of it seems to feel like it’s tightening. She was annoyed. Her eyebrows knit in confusion and fuck Fangs, she thinks. Fuck him for putting her in this situation in the first place. She noticed Jughead from even before she hopped out of Fred’s old pickup. Archie didn’t even bat an eyelid but Betty laughed it off and said it was just a coincidence - a coincidence Veronica thought not. There was always an air of things going wrong in Riverdale that they all seemed to brush off as coincidences. Veronica thinks it’s nothing short of witchcraft sometimes.

At least Jughead wasn’t as true to character as she was, a smirk plays on her lips as she glares at him. He eyes her up and down while he leans against the front of Reggie’s house - Popeye smokes a pipe, she thinks to herself. Jughead has a cheap branded cigarette hanging from his lips while his cocky-casual stance irritates Veronica. But she adjusts the bust of her red shirt, then smooths her hands over the white collar - Olive Oyl may be pissed at the moment, but she looks good anyway and Veronica straightens herself out.

Her heels click along the concrete towards Jughead, taking a deep breath, she confronts him. “Why are you dressed like Popeye?”

“I’m not,” he replies through a drag of his cigarette.

“Yes you are!” she snaps, looking from his blue pants - not sailor style, he didn’t even make the effort. But the shirt… that was Fangs’. He was supposed to be the Popeye to her Olive Oyl. All he is now is the thorn to her side.

Jughead gives her a look of amusement, his cocky stance slackens a little when he notices Veronica’s hands on her hips again. “I’m Jim Halpert.”

Veronica scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “What does that even mean?!”

“The Office, season 7? Jim dresses as Popeye.”

“Of course,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. The grin he gives her irritates her more. “That means nothing to me, you are Popeye and judging by the shirt that is oh-so obviously one I bought, you got it from Fangs.”

“Cheap purchase on my behalf, not that I expected to get a partner in crime along with it,” Jughead pulls down the oversized sailors hat on his head before taking a step closer to Veronica, brushing a stray hair from her eyes and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Veronica leans back, shock written all over her face and her cheeks creeping up hot. “I’ll have to thank Fangs later for ditching the outfit,” he murmurs. “Because now you’re dressed as my wife…”

Veronica’s torn between respecting Jughead’s absolute arrogance and feeling entirely pissed off at the situation. “I am not your wife!”

“You really need to watch The Office, Veronica. Pam dresses as Olive Oyl and she’s married to Jim.”

“This isn’t a ‘The Office’ matching costume, Jughead! And Olive is married to Popeye too!”

“So you admit we’re wearing matching outfits and we’re married?”

Veronica boils inside. Fuck Fangs Fogarty.

____

“Popeye?” Cheryl says, sort of bitchy, a hell of a lot entertained.

But Toni’s eyes graze over Veronica and her righthanded smile shows that she finds the situation hilarious. “And Olive Oyl.”

“Pam and Jim Halpert,” Jughead answers with a beer in one hand and his other smoothing behind Veronica’s back, before she can move (or slap him) she’s pulled into his side.

Cheryl’s face screws up, giving Veronica an incredulous look. “Unless that means you’re some sort of homeless Naval officer, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Neither do I,” Veronica says, shimmying her way out of Jughead’s hands.

Toni and Jughead both giggle like teenaged girls behind their glasses and Poison Ivy for the third year in a row saunters away.

“I really didn’t think you’d turn up in matching costumes,” Toni says with a laugh. “It’s cute, I like it.”

“We’re not in matching costumes,” Veronica replies curtly. She notices the quick tense of Toni’s jaw and the sideways glance she gives Jughead but he brushes it off.

“The whole thing is way out of my comfort zone,” he shrugs. “Slasher films are more my thing but I’m here to support my wife.”

Veronica rolls her eyes again and sips on a beer that’s too warm and too bitter for her liking, and quite frankly, not getting her drunk enough to deal with one Jughead Jones.

Toni’s name is called through the crowd, Sweet Pea dressed as Groot was the best thing this party had to offer Veronica so far and she smiles to herself.

“If this isn’t a foreshadowing, I don’t know what is…” Jughead’s breath trails along her neck.

Sitting somewhere between a quickened heartbeat and rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time, Veronica takes another loud, obnoxious sip of her drink to get a rise out of Jughead, but it fails when he doesn’t even notice, his eyes fixed on hers. “Are you trying to hit on me, Jug?”

His head rolls back and his eyes close, biting his lip at the same time that Veronica focuses on too much. “Well blow me down!” he laughs.

Veronica smirks, shoving Jughead in the chest before grabbing his hands and pulling him back. “Stop with the sexual innuendos and trying to palm them off to me as Popeye quotes.”

“Strong to the finish ‘cause I eats my spinach.” He leans in close again, brushing his nose against her neck. “I’m doing no such thing, Princess…”

Veronica groans. They can’t do this, not again. And especially not at Reggies house. Late night coffees at Pop’s when she’s working have too frequently ended in late night deep and meaningfuls at his trailer. Dinners at Archie and Betty’s too often end up in Jughead crashing on top of her sheets at the Pembrooke. It was too much, and she knows it hurts him just as much as it hurts her when they end up leaving each other in the morning.

Veronica’s heart drops a little when Jughead’s hands leave her skin. She follows his eyes as they follow a werewolf that walks past. “I need another drink.”

She’s stopped in her tracks when he reaches out to her arm, pulling her back. “Hey, hey, hey,” he stalls. “Tonight…” there’s a sigh that sings disappointment that Veronica can hear loud and clear.

“Tonight?” she challenges, looking up to him. The silence echoes between them even though the room is full of screams and music. He’s so close she can trace the freckles on his skin and smell the chewing gum between his teeth.

“We’re…” he trails off again. “We’re not you and me. Jughead and Veronica.”

“Popeye and Olive Oyl.”

“Jim and Pam,” he corrects with a wink. “Tonight we’re not us and maybe we can do what we really want to do.”

“Which is?”

Jughead’s snigger is almost palpable, he looks her dead in the eye, searching for something, she can feel it. “Maybe we can allow ourselves one chance to feel what we want to feel?”

Veronica feels out of place in a house full of misfits. The werewolf growls in the background with a beer funnel in the air and surrounded by a group of witches, Captain America cheers him on, a sexy nurse hangs off his arm and even though they appeared to be Popeye and Olive Oyl, the feelings bouncing in between them were all explicitly them. The reason they ate down the feelings was because of the fact that they couldn’t control them, and there was only so many times they could have this exact same discussion on repeat. Being in love was one thing, finding the right timing was a completely different.

Jughead’s eyes hold a sorrow in them, but it matched the feeling in her soul. She holds hands with him, looking up but unable to decide between arguing with him, or falling in deep. “Am I going to regret this?”

Jughead’s smile lands on her lips, chapped, sweet, soft. She feels like she’s home, she feels like two weeks was worth the wait.

She feels like this isn’t going to end well.

Jughead’s belt buckle catches on her skirt as he moves closer to her, his hands smoothing up the back of her thighs when Veronica’s breath catches in her throat a little. “Do we really have the guts to do this here at Reggie’s house?” she asks with his tongue tracing her lower lip.

He chuckles deeply, moving a nervous hand to his head and pulling on the sailor hat as if it were his beanie. “No,” he says with a glimmer in his eye. “Let’s go back to the trailer and the slasher films.”

They walk to the front door hand in hand, stepping out into the cool air.

Jughead ignores people calling out to them, asking where they were going, when would they just get together already… Veronica ignores them too, but the questions thump in her head. He kicks the driver’s side door before it opens with a loud creak and she jumps in beside him, heart racing with excitement, mind running with what was going to happen in the morning.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asks in the silence of the truck.

Jughead looks to her. “Popeye’s tough, right?” he asks with a seriousness. “Eats his spinach, it gives him super strength… maybe if I try that, you’d give me a chance.”

Undertones of joking with overtones of seriousness, Veronica looks away. “Maybe I will…” she answers, watching him start up the truck.

He leans in quickly across the seat, giving Veronica another kiss on the cheek that makes her blush and smile. “Can’t you see that maybe you and I will be perfect together, Princess? I mean, we came in matching costumes without even knowing it… that’s definitely a sign.”

Veronica bites her own lip, running her hands up and down her thighs, the thought of being with Jughead with the tv running and his hands on her skin making her scattered, making her calm at the same time. “A sign if ever i’ve seen one,” she whispers.

Jughead’s smile lights up the night. “And later, I’ll make a trip to Pop’s for a chocolate shake.”

She gives a sigh of relief with her hand resting on his thigh instead, “Oh, my hero.”

———

Send me a Jeronica centric ft Barchie prompt and I’ll write you a >2000 word Drabble!

[ironfuninfluencer-blog]

After a few good years, real estate fell and Guillaume's income with. The house, bought dear in times of euphoria, brought us each month more difficult treats to honor and our Thibault, growing up, cost us more and more expensive: if he could bear not to have a scooter , unlike most of his classmates, we could not go too far on his graduate studies that were fast approaching. And that bad luck was beginning to last, with no sign of improvement. It made Guillaume anxious, we had reduced our lifestyle - economic holidays in the family, more and more distant outings, we almost did not receive any more - and we were moreover, less and less often invited. I stopped working at the birth of Thibault, and I proposed to take a cashier position, part time, the time is better: jobs do not run the streets in the region. Guillaume must have been wounded in his pride as a male protector, who dryly replied: "and why not go and pummel in the evening, after dinner, on the boulevard? - - why not, yes ... not sure that I'm doing so much. 'Money only as a cashier ...', I replied with a smile. He softened and smiled at me too, apologizing for his vulgarity, which no one would ever pay dear enough for me, assured me that I was the most beautiful taking me tenderly in his arms. Be that as it may, I notice in these rare moments that we still love each other, and that allows us to endure all the rest.

He gave me a call on that famous Sunday, I started to prepare lunch. He told me that he was coming back with a possible partner, that he wanted to know my family, that they had to discuss. "Not too late, Thibault has a football game this afternoon ..." and I hung up. I went back to my roast pork, it was the first time that Guillaume had good news for a long time. I was suddenly light, glimpsing better days. I relaxed. My rules were approaching and as often so, I'm pretty excited, my breasts are very sensitive. I could not wait for him to come home, I could not wait to be alone with him, I wanted to party, I had naughty thoughts, like a lid that was lifting, finally. I hope it was not a flash of fire. They arrived just in time, the kitchen was on the road and I had time to get ready before serving them an aperitif. His future partner, Michel, was younger than him, handsome, polite; I had an a priori favorable, he looked honest, dressed simply but correctly, he had humor and quick wit. The aperitif was a delight, Guillaume was perky, as I like when he is like that! We managed to snatch Thibault from his Playstation to sit down to dinner, they did honor to my meal and there was almost nothing left, we had down to three two bottles and when we went to the cafe, we were quite euphoric . Michel was really nice, he had charming looks but good child, and I was happy with what was happening to Guillaume.The coffee grinder was too much, I gave up the idea of ​​a naughty nap, and I announced to Thibault, whom I accompanied him on foot to the bus stop, I needed to get some fresh air to sober up a little. I thought the men would take the opportunity to chat quietly at home, but Michel offered to come with us, and Guillaume said "why not? ". We got covered and we started. The sky was gray, and the rain was threatening. Thibault was wearing his duffel bag a little apart, he is at the age where we do not really want to be seen with his parents, I took shelter from the wind by hugging me against Guillaume's left flank. He and Michel, on his right, continued to joke, more and more naughty, they laughed. I was good. We went up the street, deserted. At the construction site, a worker activated a smoky brazier in front of his companions who were waiting for their meal in their Sunday clothes, sitting at a distance in front of the barracks. Michel, seeing them, must have had an idea, because he suddenly you, stammered that we take him back, he wished good luck to the champion and we continued without him. I hugged a little more against my man, he stopped, he embraced me and kissed me tenderly. We joined Thibault at the bus stop, we waited with him, Guillaume whispered sweets in my ear, the bus arrived and we said goodbye, and then we retraced our steps. Now that we were alone, Guillaume was becoming a rascal; the drunkenness of the wind and laughter replaced that of alcohol, which gradually faded, he ran after me and ran his hands under my cloak, laughed, and then pressed me against the trunk of a man. tree and I melted in his eyes, his lips sought mine, ate them, before kissing me on the mouth, I was his, his heavy body protected me, possessed me, his hands were doing what they wanted me and dispensed their heat according to their movements. "Come, come home ..." and he led me to the street from which we had gone. He could have me there, I relied on him, and the guy abandoned me feverishly, having stoked me, forcing me to wait until the house. "I'm yours ...", I gently protested following him. He turned his head, stared at me with a smile, took my hand and helped me to cross the slope to return to the sidewalk. The brazier was pulling its smoke down the street, and Michel emerged from it, I had completely forgotten it. He was talkative, as we had left him, and he approached telling us that everything was settled, and he spread a piece of wire to let us pass. I did not understand, there was a pause, Guillaume looked stupid too, and then he looked at me, like seeming to suddenly remember something "... to me, huh? And he held my hand and passed it; I stepped on the boards wading through the mud hung in his eyes, not knowing where I was going and avoiding looking at the wire on which I was doing my number. Michel opened the way, we passed the type of brazier, and then we bypassed the barracks, the men stopped eating and I felt their eyes heavy on me, I did not understand what we were doing there, Michel pulled a door, and I followed Guillaume inside, more than ever clinging to his hand. Michel stayed outside, and the door closing behind him plunges the room into darkness, a skylight throws a halo of gray light on the ground, and a light bulb burns at the bottom. It is hot, the strong smell of the wood stove in the center of the room, and tobacco, mixed, a sweet oriental music spattered by a post, that's where we land. I begin to distinguish the two-level beds, against the walls, the glances that emanate from them, betraying still bodies, silhouettes lying down, seated; who look at us, who look at me. It's an eternity, nobody moves or says a word. Desperate, wanting to hide, I implore Guillaume eyes, which seems to control the situation and takes my two wrists in his hand, gently but firmly. He drives me back to the central column, which supports the pipe of the stove, he asks me in a low voice if I trust him. I blows "yes" because it's true, because especially now, in this place where there are only poor men, who do not so often have to have a small European bourgeois in their filthy prefabricated. "What are we doing here? Is my last look of distress. He puts himself slightly beside me, and I am his eyes. He raises my wrists at the level of my eyes, and I can not resist. gay asian porn I lost his eyes, everything. In raising my arms, my coat baille and opens. I'm wearing a black knee skirt, a beige tights, and I have black flat shoes on my feet. I have a V-sweater, cream. I do not see anyone, but everyone looks at me, all those little eyes in the dark. Not a word, not a sound. Except the post that spit and the wood creak in the stove. I can not find the air anymore. I died of shame. I do not understand. It's hot, I'm hot. His free hand takes my hip, looks for the zip, and blows the button. He takes the skirt down and pulls it down my leg. I finally protest by trying to free myself, by reflex, a late burst, but he firmly holds his grip on my wrists, and I do not insist. My skirt slides on my ankles. What a torture Already, his cold hand is under my sweater, on my belly, and catches with his fingers frozen looking groping the belt of my tights. He shoots violently, and he saws my waist, and I stifle a cry. He lowers it, rolling it half on his right thigh, then on the left, and starts again, and abandons it to his knees. He is doing all that by holding my wrists cross in front of my eyes, tight tight. Nothing but the post and the wood. They do not move? They look at the little bourgeois with her pantyhose on her legs at mid-height in the process of lowering her Sloggy cotton. So paralyzed that she agrees. He pulls my pants on my stomach. He does it as badly as with the sticky, even if he has only one hand. Who spreads my coat to come on my buttock a rim he drops at mid-thigh. Then he protects my body from sight. Time to catch the other pan to go down the other side, and put the pants on top of the thigh. He retired while standing up. He shows me. I have never been so ashamed. Petrified. After hours, finally an acute voice that speaks in a foreign language - Arabic? -, a few words, and I hear gushing from everywhere. Laughs of kids. Guillaume asks what he said. A voice in my back explains that if we do not remove the little mouse, she will end up suffocating and bleeding. And they laugh again. I stand and burn my shoulder to the hose when my Tampax is torn off. Oh, when will this humiliation end? The bottom of the coat flies, and when it is down, covering me only the buttocks, he releases my hands. He takes my chin and looks at me hard then puts me the end of white cotton under the nose as a exclamation point to the expression of his eyes, and he disappears.He goes away.In two steps, he grabbed the door and went out. Leaving me alone. I can not even follow him with my legs trapped in everything he has unpacked. I dress badly, I go back all this way, as I am ridiculous, it takes hours, I am clumsy, I did not look up, all look at me without saying a word.When I finally put my skirt, I hear a new voice, less acute but equally sweet, which finds me "very pretty, madame," with a strong accent. I do not tie the button of the skirt, nor the zipper: I flee out as I can. ______________________________________________________________________________ Guillaume is already almost at the fence, and I miss running to catch him. He is with his boyfriend, he's the one who has staked the blow. They wait for me on the other side of the fence and I throw myself in the arms of William drumming his chest, I am so angry, so humiliated. He takes my shots but does not react, just takes me down the street, coiled in his arms, meaning we are looked at. I sob and snuggle against him. That's when his friend Michel brings her back: "Did not you like it? ". I stop sobbing immediately and turn my head in his direction, I glare at him, he smiles at me blissfully, I hate him. At the same time, here I am asking myself the question, which should not happen. Yes, I am ashamed, yes, I have been betrayed, coerced and humiliated. At the same time, I am whole, nothing serious happened to me, provided that no one ever speaks of it, never, and never again cross these men. I think back to what just happened, it's all so surprising, so different. And this evocation excites me terribly, as I am ashamed of so much unworthiness on my part. My gaze redoubled with hatred towards him, he smiled more broadly in response, as if reading my thoughts. We return calmly without exchanging a word, I am always tight in the arms of Guillaume, and I think, without stopping, in a loop, what has just happened; my mind can not help wanting to feel every minute of these minutes again, and how I have been flouted, and I am more and more excited. I discover in me a slut, a mother of unworthy family, I disgusted myself. But I want so much to make love with Guillaume now; I think that what he did, no doubt, he liked ... I live with a big pervert! Bastard, make love to me, be vicious with your bitch! I see it differently. I want to know him. And his partner, who is this man? They have funny games, I thought they had better things to do. They had engineered everything between them before, the monsters. Two big vicious, two minutes ago, I wished I could not see them any more, and here are some naughty thoughts, very light given the circumstances, come to my mind when approaching the house with them, since the other does not let us go. Maybe they have the same thoughts as me. Clenched against William's chest, who protects me under his shoulder, I spur Michel; he turns his face briskly and catches my eyes, I see a conquering smile illuminate him before lowering his eyes. This man is the devil and reads in me open book. I am very troubled when I open the door. I had served the table, I took to the kitchen the three glasses of brandy I had abandoned, leaving the men in the living room. As soon as I leave, I go to the bathroom to wash myself. I feel so dirty. I throw my things in the basket and rush in the shower. The warm water that springs on my breasts makes me shudder, instinctively, I start to caress them, the nipples are so hard, they react so quickly when I run them in my fingers. I must calm down. And yet, I can not help but linger the jet shower on my privacy. Whirling, he annoys my button that pierced his shell of flesh. My hand leaves my breasts, feels my belly, and I go to put on a finger, fortunately I hold back. I quickly finish my toilet, and do not leave me strange dreams about what could happen with these two men. The new panties I put on is already soaked. I am ashamed of my desire. I have never had sex with two men. At the same time, I have the impression, with all that has just happened, that this is what awaits me. All this is so unreal. I'm making ideas. And yet, all of this has happened. I dress identically - I have a collection of black skirts and sweaters - I just put a slip cover, and I swapped the beige for the red. I comb my hair without tying my hair, without putting on makeup either. I join them in the salon where they used a pear. I feel different, the shower did me good, I feel like I buried what happened, accepted and turned the page, even if it seriously irritates my mind again. Seeing them both forces me to think again, and I sit slowly in the chair questioning Guillaume to see if they have engineered something. I do not belong to myself surprisingly, I do not feel resisting anything he wants, and I fear the worst. They talk business. Michel finishes his sentence, he says that it will bring cash flow, and he stops. He looks at me put my buttocks on the chair. Did Guillaume make me endure that to satisfy his partner? I am betrayed by my husband, degraded and degraded by the man I love. At the same time, I want to help him so much. He turns his head towards me in the silence that settles, I can not decipher his look, I feel like to see him for the first time, it's no longer my Guillaume. I lower my eyes. I am waiting, subject, to know what will happen to me. Inevitably. It does not take long. Guillaume gets up, he gives me his hand, I put mine and I get up, he trains me and I am to the table. He lets me go and I stand there watching him remove the vase I put in the center, with the bouquet he brought me this morning. He puts it on the dresser and comes back to take my hand, he sits on the edge of the table, and still holding my hand, on the other he takes my shoulder and lies on his back, he must me up a little so that I can tilt my buttocks on the table and put me feet. I do not even have any more modesty in raising my legs. I look at his concentrated, calm face, completely at his task, as if he repeated, applied, a thousand times repeated exercise. This man is my husband, but who is he really? He brings my hands over my head and abandons me for the dresser drawer, behind me. I lie on my back, his heels at the edge of the table, uncomfortable, with legs bent, tight, sideways, and the pelvis, which only touches one side, the spine twisted and the shoulders to flat, the cold wood chills me a bit, I put my other buttocks and straight up my knees, the cold spreads. I see over my arm Michel who gets up and seems to move towards the entrance, the body of William, back, the mask, I look up at him. Frightened, curious. He is still serious and I feel it pass me on the wrist a leather strap. He squeezes it a little. There is a rope that goes in my palm, between my fingers, and leaves, loose, towards the corner of the table. He is working a little. Then he passes on my back, does the same to the other wrist. Two men are preparing to jump at my home, tied to the table in my dining room, and I submit. I wish. I want them to bandage and they enjoy, I want to compromise them in my bestiality. It was they who awakened her, after all. I do not hide that I'm pretty excited, I'm looking for the look of Guillaume, all his knots.I am on fire. I wait while basing it touches me. It gives the impression of acting as if I was not there. For the second time of the day, he catches my skirt. Arabic music and the smell of burnt wood are resurfacing in my memory. He is more delicate, he has both hands. He takes his time, I help him by raising the basin. To go down the skirt. And then I lift my heels when he slipped on my legs. And then the tights, I do it again, also with the panties. I think "come take me, you and your boyfriend, come to enjoy me," I resolved my fate in this unreal afternoon. I'm surprised, I'm waiting for them. He pulls up my sweater a little on the belly, and then he pulls me hard buttocks at the edge of the table. My skin slips badly, the links tend a little, my feet lose support, I have to sit spread on the sides, it pulls me in the knees, my thighs are wide open, and my slit, indecent and oh how wet, languishing from him. I raise my head a little to follow his disappearing between my thighs. What you want, I'm yours. He examines me. Touch me, I beg you. I throw my head back, I arch, I reach out to him as much as I can, I lift the basin, I deviate as ever. Now, quickly! My hands do not allow me to caress me, I squirm, it is a real torture. And your friend, he's gone where, he's going to come to him, he's going to bend and fuck me, he's a vicious. The ring makes me out of my torpor. I become aware of the situation where I am. I try to get up, "Detach me! ". He gets up after me copiously raked the shell, like close-up, and he smiles, smugly: "it looks like my little dog is horny ..." and he walks away and to the entrance. key, and it's way too soon. Do not open. He is not going to open, he searches the pocket of his parka that he threw on the sofa, leaves between the fingers a small bright square, and he goes to the entrance.Where appears a man. Aged, with a kind of cap on the head. An Arab. Automatically, I think it's a guy from the yard. It's the other guy who had to get him in. He looks at me, I'm there like a bitch tied on my table, in the back of the room, and then he goes to Guillaume and hands him something, looking over my arm, I do not see the bottom of their body, but Guillaume raises the gift and it is a small bundle of bills he counts, he stretches out the little shiny square - a hood, and as I understand, the old man has already laid his astrakhan hat against me and me the height of his eyes, between my legs. He removes his coat puts it on a chair to my right, takes one, two, and comes back framing between my thighs. He looks busy, despite my fear of letting go of the look, I turn to Guillaume, who looks at me, and tends his meager notes in my direction while smiling at me, as if we had made a good shot. I look frightened at each other when he grabs my ankle, takes it firmly and puts it on the back of one of the chairs, then does the same with the other, and resumes its position. It relieves me. I'm no less frightened, the zipper of his zipper and he plants his dark eyes in mine, his eyes are two feverish black marbles in a hollowed face with white balding forehead. I'm fascinated, looking in his little twining balls that pierce me, and I feel his sex, hard, which spurs his way between my lips, penetrates me. It's awful, but I've been waiting so long for so long that I groan and bless him when he sinks into me. Her balls faint, her snake slipping slowly into my pussy makes me crazy, that I can not hold me anymore. I think I asked him to touch me the breasts, the table moved on his feet so I struggled. I came very quickly. Faster than him. He continued to file me, faster and faster, he took my thighs under his arms, a chair had valdingué, I still enjoyed it. He stayed in me a few moments, I came back to me, I opened my eyes, he was still, closed eyelids, and when he opened them, he saw me, and he suddenly withdrew from me , he let go of my thighs that fell heavily, it hurt me, he packed up his case, he put the dripping hood on the table and picked up his fallen headdress, his coat on the chair, and he is gone away with his hair. Guillaume arrived immediately behind him and grabbed the hood with his fingertips. He could be proud of me, even if I was afraid he would punish me for having enjoyed. He did not even pay attention to me. Already he was gone, throw the hood in the wastebasket, and welcome a new man who showed up, I had not heard ringing. And then the circus started again, with him and then with others, I do not know how much, I lost my mind more than once. They took only my sex, none even touched my breasts. Or, I do not remember anymore. The pocket of William's shirt was swollen with bills when he untied me. I had pain everywhere, night was falling, Thibault was not going to delay. I emptied the basket in a plastic bag that I tied and thrown to the container and I went to wash all this dirt. Michel was no longer there, I never wanted to hear about this man again. Subsequently, each Sunday when Thibault had matches, we welcomed the guys from the yard next door. And then, I moved on the spot, where they fitted me a mattress on the ground, that they protected from the rest of the room of a sheet which acted as curtain. William accompanied me; he had bought a weapon. And then Thibault left home to study in Paris; It cost us dear. His father took his room and on weekdays I received in our old matrimonial bed. And then, real estate is finally gone. Guillaume has again earned money, he left me. Construction sites have multiplied.