#i did it!! i beat the funger!!!

[demento-mori]

GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED LE'GARDE

[rivkae-winters]

'Chair fic' - my little enki/cahara au

Once again the gods have deemed me to live some number more of days to menace the world... I've been really hard into funger since late march, I've written both way to much and nowhere near enough for these two. Anyway here is the first 6,029 words of my little long running pet project, this installment of which centers around them boning in the life crisis/contemplation chair. The rest [like 7k] will be up on Ao3 once it's through editing :3

Splitting up was almost never the most advised option. Even Enki with his sometimes overly open disdain towards other people and insular nature could admit that. 

Almost. 

Since sometimes, when you- out of some unexplored childhood trauma- decide to pick up a child left in the dark in a cage that child needs sleep. More sleep than the rest of the group, that is. Or really a similar amount if Enki was honest with himself, adults were just better at pushing through the exhaustion. Either way sometimes that child needs sleep now, and the group at large also /needs food now/. 

Ideally, according to the bow wielding outlander, there would be no man left by himself in a situation like this. Right after stating that wise and obvious statement however the auburn haired man proceeded to make excuse after excuse for why Enki really should take Cahara and that he would be fine with only the cave wolf that had also been adopted and a sleeping child. 

That man… That man and his way of constantly making things harder for himself, occasionally when easier solutions are available, drove Enki crazy sometimes. 

Enki could tell Cahara was getting antsy though and he knew that he was not going to be able to bargain being left alone after the last scare so he’d cut his losses and followed the sellsword’s lead through the winding hallways of the dungeon. They didn’t go that far astray of the dungeon complex they’d left behind. Not particularly.

Enki couldn’t help but wince as their footsteps echoed when they entered the main dungeon bulwark, the one where he’d stumbled upon the man he was following behind. Enki braced himself and caught up a bit to Cahara and leaned in close before making his query. 

“Where exactly are we going?” The tightness in his voice did nothing to dissuade Cahara’s almost jaunty strut through the dungeon, his footsteps would almost certainly be featherlight in any room or section except this one despite the appearance of his stride. 

“There was a room I’d noticed a lot of the patrolling guards always circling back to in here, then-” Cahara cut himself off almost abruptly, his stride kept in beat though with only a stutter in his front step that Enki could see almost jolt his hip giving his discomfort away. “Then in the cell I had a slightly better vantage point.”

Then the mercenary stopped abruptly, his head barely moved but Enki could almost see his eyes moving from side to side in a manner the other didn’t think was obvious from behind. Cahara pulled them behind a crate, pressing Enki behind himself and against the crate just in time for a Guard to walk by on a parallel walkway. Thankfully the lumbering brute didn’t seem to see them, or smell them. Still the glint of the morning star and sword on it’s back sent a shot of anxiety through Enki. Enki’s hands still felt hot by his side even as the Guard disappeared into the darkness. Cahara turned to him, seriousness showing for once, fully in his eyes breaking through the facade.

“Sometimes they’ll go in with one weapon and leave with another,” Cahara’s voice was low and quiet and Enki almost didn’t hear the slight echo it gave off. The other man glanced over his shoulder. “The doors are a bit further that way.”

“You think its a general supply room, not an armory?” Enki tried to keep his voice neutral. On one hand, Cahara was likely right. This was a prison floor first and foremost, there would likely be some sort of abandoned supplies for upkeep of various types there. On the other hand: Cahara was leading him to an area that could have heavy traffic.

“I’m fairly sure of that, but comparative logistics aside, a chance at food is something we can’t pass up right now.” Cahara’s words were barely audible and he looked at Enki, eyes totally serious once again, a weird type of concern present as well. To Enki’s surprise the innate response to fight at the sight of pity didn’t rear itself up like a crying monster in the back of his head. 

Enki knew what the other meant: at this point they’d either die starving or die fighting before they were able to get out. Enki knew he didn’t quite want such beings as the girl child to die starving. Something in him protested against it greatly. 

It was odd honestly. Enki had never really cared about such things that plagued the hours and days of others like that before. 

Instead of speaking Enki simply nodded at the other man, the footsteps of the hulking beast still haunting the very edges of his perception. Cahara took that as affirmative and moved out of the spot he’d tucked them into. Careful to keep his steps light, Enki followed the other. The guards weren’t intelligent enough to be attracted to noise or so he thought. The thought still nagged at the back of his mind as Cahara’s light swaying steps led them the final stretch to the store room. The door stood on one end at the end of their walkway and an infinitely dark hall on the other. 

As the other man held his torch a bit higher and peaked inside before confirming there were currently no guards Enki’s mind turned the question over and over. Some would say that humans wore clothes while animals did not- that they had no business covering something that they had no business being ashamed of. What was left of much of prison staff could be likened more to the latter now than the former. 

A light tap on his shoulder almost had Enki jolting out of his skin. Cahara’s deep eyes were sharp against the torch light as they peered into his. The mercenary tilted his head back towards the supply room and the piles of unattended crates sitting there. It almost seems too good to be true…

Ultimately it was: in the eerie silence of the cavernous prison level Cahara and Enki sorted through crate after crate and barrel after barrel. Some were empty. Some had dirt. Some had discarded sweaty loincloths and torches broken as if they were toothpicks. 

None had food.

There were a precious few preserved herbs that Enki found and pocketed, several green and one blue, yet there was nothing edible. Neither of them were quite hungry enough to chance the maggot ridden raw meat that lay in the back of the room on a side table. 

Not yet at least. 

Cahara was the one to open the last box in the room and the way his head hung down told Enki all he needed to know. Then, one of the flies, freshly on their wings, came buzzing around his head from the meat. 

‘Down the hall… There is fresher stock down the hall and into the dark… It’s from whence we came…’

Something in Enki’s gut jolted but he felt an odd sort of trust in his gut. The insects had never had reason to lie to him whether he overheard idle chatter or was made to listen intentionally. Enki took the few steps that separated him and Cahara before leaning in close, his lips almost brushing the other's ear. 

“The hallway next to this room, something is down there.” Enki could see Cahara’s lips purse before he nodded. The other man handed Enki the torch and took a step back and nodded towards the door as if telling Enki to lead the way. The way the mercenary’s hand hovered over his sword told Enki exactly what the other was going to do. 

Enki didn’t question as he usually would why the sellsword took his word that quickly, without asking for any source or proof. The hunger was eating at his mind and no doubt the others as well. 

The hallway was damp and somehow almost oppressively dark even with the torch. It stretched in front of them ominously but Enki didn’t feel as disturbed as he probably should have. There wasn’t even the normal numbness that typically accompanied identifiable emotions. It just felt familiar instead. Almost mechanically he led Cahara down the hallway into the humming darkness. Something was almost entrancing about it. Enki’s eyes couldn’t help but fixate on something just shining through the darkness at the end of the hallway. 

He was jolted back suddenly, something pulling him back abruptly. 

“Careful,” Cahara’s voice cut through the shroud and something else shiny caught Enki’s eye on the ground. He watched as Cahara’s foot nudged the nail straight on out of the way, until it rolled up against the wall. He’d almost stepped on it hadn’t he. “No need to get infected unnecessarily now, no matter how many of those pretty green herbs we found just now.” The statement was awkwardly humorous in a way that gave Enki whiplash when contrasted with the deep darkness of the air surrounding them. Cahara’s hand lingered on Enki’s waist for a little longer than necessary, fingers dancing lightly, before he fully pulled away again and took a step back. Enki only hummed, glancing once more at the nail before refocusing his eyes on the barely visible door that only just barely cut through the darkness. Even then, cut might be an overstatement; it just barely shone to the point where if Enki hadn’t just been pointed towards it he would think it a mirage at first. 

“We’re going to need your locking picking skills in a second.” Enki’s voice still sounded dull and almost dreamy to his own ears. He could hear the leather of Cahara’s vest shift as the other man leaned forward until Enki could just barely hear his breath.

“Well my deft fingers are, as always at your service.” Cahara sounded cocky, as if Enki was far more attractive and invited him to bed. He brushed it off and, after checking the space in front of his feet, let himself be almost pulled towards the end of the hall again. 

The door became clearer with every step they took towards it. Some containers behind it became apparent, four crates and a single barrel. What really attracted Enki’s eyes though, as he stopped a short pace from the door was the descending darkness in the back right corner. Stairs leading downwards to a further darkness. The fly’s words repeated in his head- flies were of the depths after all. 

Enki heard Cahara pulling out his lock picks and held out his hand to stop the other man from trying to move in front of him. 

“It’s locked from the other side,” Enki felt numb and lifeless and /hungry/ as he said the words. Cahara only put his lock picks away deftly and pressed something cool and round into Enki’s hands. Enki reflexively retracted and looked down at the red vial sitting innocently in his hand. 

Cahara held out his hand as he stepped slightly in front of Enki and Enki returned the vial to him.  Enki took another step forward and held the torch, just away from the bars illuminating the lock of the other side. Cahara uncorked the vial and stuck the tip just through the bars before dumping it on the lock. There was a sizzle almost immediately on contact. Cahara didn’t croon or make a snide comment as he sometimes would. Instead the sellsword was still staring down at the lock as it continued to sizzle. The prison floor was likely still affecting him as it had been since they’d set foot in it. Cahara took out a tool to reach through the bars and agitate the lock a bit. 

Enki took the role of looking out behind them as Cahara worked. The residual sizzling and clinking of discardable tools filling his ears. The hallway stretched back further behind them than Enki had remembered walking. The storeroom was dimly visible at the end of it, angled away from them.. Its gaping doorway now only seemed the size of an average tome in the distance. 

The sound of the vial reacting with the metal died down and Cahara groaned behind him. Enki turned to look. The door stood unfaltering even with half of the lock slightly melted and the innards of it no doubt a mess. 

“Damn this fucking thing,” Cahara hissed, the other man more agitated than Enki had seen him get… over most things.

“I’m assuming you don’t have another then?” Enki turned fully back to the problem at hand, leaning a bit to inspect it. As before: it meant nothing to him. The lock simply looked like it should be holding on far less than it was. 

“No, that was my last one for now.” Cahara’s voice was almost snappish in a way that the other man seemed to wince at after hearing it. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Stop.” Enki cut the other off before he could start trying to tell Enki that he wasn’t angry at him or whatever. Or worse, start nervously prattling. Though unlike that weird knight girl Enki had briefly encountered very early on in her time here: that didn’t seem as likely with Cahara. He had survived this long after all, the other one likely hadn’t. Enki drew on his small reserves remaining and, with a thought of Gro-Goroth, of destruction bursting through life and everything, felt his hand heat rapidly. Enki let a small flame grow in his hand, until it was just about the same size as the one on the torch that he handed back over to Cahara. “Let me.”

The sellsword stepped back otherwise unprompted and Enki took his place. He placed the fire a bit below the unmelted bottom part of the lock. Enki took a breath and then fed much more into the fire. Thoughts of his own eventual destruction and the memory of burning his own order to the ground fueling the flame to rage. Enki let it raise up and subsume the lock for about a second before he stopped feeding it and let it dissipate in the air. He took a step back and turned to look at Cahara, taking the torch back quicker than was technically safe. The mercenary seemed to understand coming up to ram his shoulder into the door. The door opened, the areas that had once secured the now ruined lock hopelessly warped. 

What must be the internal mechanism of the lock fell out and flung towards the stone floor, already made mostly useless by the vial. The noise didn’t echo as much as it should have. Cahara dusted off his shoulder and went to go for the stack of crates when Enki grabbed his wrist, long pointed fingers wrapping loosely around it. 

“Not up here,” Enki then started for the stairs. 

“Lead us to edible food then bug-man.”[might change thisline] Cahara’s tone was sardonic and dour but Enki simply took measured steps down the steep stairs that led into the abyss. The torch cast only the few steps in front of them in dim light. The full extent of the descent as well as the steps leading back up remained in impossibly dark shadow. Enki let time slip through his fingers through the descent, focusing more on making sure his feet were stable on the steep and uncared for steps. The sound of Cahara’s footsteps behind him, slow and careful as well, was oddly comforting. 

The further they descended the earthier the air seemed to smell. By the time the last steps were in sight the scent of the slight draft coming in was almost floral, like the courtyard where a statue of Alll-mer loomed over the library’s exit. Like the spore ridden thicket. 

The stairwell let them off into a circular chamber. Enki could see the way down just to the left, barely, the stairs sinking further into the abyss. That didn’t catch his eye though. He took a few steps forward and then felt as if he’d been given a boon. 

In front of them, barely outlined by the torchlight was another storeroom. 

“Well shit,” Cahara mumbled from behind Enki as his torch cast some of the rather cramped room in dim light. Enki wasted no time in walking over to the sconces he saw shining on the wall to light them. The room seemed less cramped once the two surprisingly intact candles were glowing in addition to their dying torch. “Your little bug friends save the day again I guess.” Enki turned back abruptly from his work in placing the torch in a holder no doubt meant for something else that rested between the sconces** to see Cahara still in the doorway leaning against it in a way that would normally be termed provocative. 

“They are not my ‘little bug friends’,” Enki was unsurprised at the sharpness that entered his voice and had no desire to tamper it down. They weren’t- such terminology was demeaning to both him and the insects he occasionally communicated with and that occasionally helped him. “That is-”

“Regardless,” Cahara’s voice was light and airy as he cut Enki off before righting himself and crouching in front of the pile of crates nearest to the door. “We have more things to look through now.” Enki actually looked at the other now and the fatigue that gripped his frame mirrored that which Enki felt in his own. The hunger in those dark eyes… Enki was starting to feel it more himself. There were more pressing things than semantics right now, after all. 

“Alright,” Enki turned on his heel towards the side of the room opposite Cahara. “I’ll start on these if you could move crates out of the way as we go.” Cahara nodded back at him, and they were off. Enki wouldn’t realize until later that the request didn’t create the same burning ire and hatred towards his own body that it usually did. That he didn’t feel so much disgust as he usually did at his constitution, notably poor even for a dark priest. 

They worked in turns, Enki sorting through boxes and Cahara moving them. This time they actually found food. Cured meats, somewhat decent produce. Even some preserved fruit and vegetables as well. 

It wasn’t that much, maybe enough for a few days across the four people and one cavewolf they were feeding. Even then, the thought occurred to Enki that for everyone else he was with this would be stretched far less than they were willing to here outside the dungeon. Regardless: they had food now. 

They amassed enough that Cahara and Enki, down to what they were fairly sure were the last few crates, stopped to eat. It wasn’t much. They each only had a bit of dried meat but with the Hunger just having started to gnaw at both of them to the point of weakness it felt like the best food in the world. They both chewed slowly, trying to trick their bodies into thinking it was more food than they actually had. 

When they got up again Cahara went to move the crates they were sitting on for easier access. It seemed when they started up again though that their blessings had run out for now. 

All they found inside the next five crates that were mounded up around a tarp covered mass was things that were either unspeakably spoiled or virtually back at the realm of being dirt.. 

There was one lone box left next to the dust cloth covered mass. It was smaller and the wood looked different to the point where Enki actually felt something like hope for its contents. 

Enki went for the small crate next to the hanging dust cloth. His gut feeling was proven correct as inside revealed a collection of rags and assorted cloth fragments. Something that was more than invaluable for wounds that they always kept coming across. It wasn’t all good- the selection of cleaning supplies had likely been long forgotten by the time everything in this place went to the sulfur pits. Any supplies were helpful, the technicalities of such things as being fresh and highly effective were a luxury here. 

Enki was starting to sort the good from the barely usable from totally unsalvageable when a sound like a rug being pulled filled his ears and there was suddenly more dust than good air in his face. Enki turned his head in unison with Cahara plopping down on the surprisingly intact chair he’d uncovered. Maybe it was from an old officer’s room Enki distantly thought, but gods only know how long it’s been down here. Enki put the vial he’d been holding down before he broke it as the other man stared at him with hungry eyes. He wasn’t sitting properly but Enki had stopped expecting the other man to do that right within the first hour of their acquaintance. 

Enki felt something, he realized distantly, as his hands continued to ball but this time not around the old fragile vials. It wasn’t anger though, it was odd. 

“Comfortable?” Enki let the sardonic tone overtake whatever was bubbling in his gut as he rolled his eyes at the other man and turned back to sorting. He noted that some of these would need to be cushioned in among the other odds and ends they’d found on the way back. Enki didn’t trust old glass like many of these were from his experience; they'd likely been used and abused up to their breaking point. 

“Very,” Cahara’s voice was smooth and quiet, and there was a slight rustle of leather against fabric as the other man adjusted himself in the chair. “You know…” The other man trailed off in a way that made Enki imagine he was licking his lips, or preparing for something. Enki stood, leaving his box half organized and turned on his heel to Cahara. He briefly felt some enjoyment for the way he was just shy of towering over the man sprawled out as he was like this. The chair was large, making Cahara look almost small in comparison.

Almost. 

Enki would look miniscule in it most likely.

“What?” Enki said with force levelness. Cahara only shifted his eyebrows a bit at him and batted his eyes. Enki narrowed his eyes at the other man. He waited for a few counts for a more substantial response before tsking** and going to turn back to his work. Then he was yanked off his feet as a pair of muscled arms hoisted him down to Cahara’s level. Onto Cahara’s crossed legs. [exasperation and embarrassment but not the level you’d expect bc emotional numbness]

“We don’t have company right now,” Cahara’s lips were almost touching Enki’s ear before the man abruptly pulled back. His arms loosened slightly around Enki’s waist. If this had been something Enki had been watching uncomfortably he’d have called the tone of voice a croon, like that of a self-important bird. Enki turned himself a bit but didn’t try to get up for reasons he didn’t want to think about too much. Cahara’s dark eyes were warm and deep and-

Cahara’s hand wandered up to the back of Enki’s head, resting oh so slightly over the back of his neck then gently pulled the other man to him. 

Enki didn’t resist. 

Cahara’s lips were warm and slightly rough just like the last time. Enki let his eyes slip shut almost instinctively. This time the other man’s lips didn’t taste like the distinctive scented alcohol he carried around doctoring the abandoned bottles they came across. The taste of dried meat still fresh in the other man’s mouth barely registered to Enki. 

Then Cahara stopped and pulled back and Enki pushed himself up. He looked down at Cahara and took in the feelings that pierced through the surface of the numbness he’d lived up until entering the dungeons. A good bit into these dungeons as well. The part of him that yearned for knowledge felt less urgent in it’s ravenous desire oddly. It was a feeling that was so similar to how things had felt last time. 

“So what if we don’t have company then?” Enki in a moment of pure hunger for something that he couldn’t identify let his hand fall against Cahara’s chin and his gloved thumb rest against the other’s bottom lip. 

“I thought we could continue,” Cahara pulled Enki’s other hand to his lips and pressed the same feather light kiss he had to the center of it the last time they had been ‘sitting closely’ in this manner. This time Enki was still wearing his gloves though. “ Y’know- From were we were interrupted last time,” Cahara’s eyes were downright mischievous and seemingly gleeful at the idea. Enki couldn’t argue with that logic too much though- there was no small child to wake up from a nightmare here. There was also no risk of them waking her either, although they hadn’t gotten as far as for that to be a problem prior. 

“Well then,” Enki looked down at Cahara and felt things beyond numbness to the point were he felt them warp his face a little. The gaping chasm that led to nothingness inside of him felt less large now. 

“Well sweetling,” Cahara’s dark eyes seemed to sparkle momentarily. 

“Lets.” Enki almost popped the T out of his mouth and swallowed the ‘S’ as Cahara pulled him down again. The other drowned Enki in his being, his presence. Cahara’s gloved hands held Enki’s waist and the back of his neck in a way so gentle it came back around to hurting almost. The contact was fast and intense, like a piece of tinder. It felt like the other released him just as soon as it started although Enki knew logically that wasn’t quite true. 

“Lets…” Cahara’s voice dragged out in a way that was a bit more than his usual speech. 

When they kissed again the silence around them felt like a heavy hand gripping the back of Enki’s neck. The sound of his own voice, his own breaths, of their combined movement in the chair returned to his ears and Enki felt something like shame. Shame that he existed and took up space in that familiar way that he’d felt as far back as he could remember. Before even the adults at the temple** started to whisper about the weak one, the disappointing runt. Only the water droplets that seemed piercing through the relative silence occasionally outshone the shame that was Enki’s existence. 

The ennui that usually accompanied that shame of a life that wasn’t worth living, wasn’t tingling at its heels though The ambient dissatisfaction that filled Enki’s days when nothing was new or intriguing enough was oddly absent. That something warm was also still present and it pushed up against Enki’s lungs. He let himself get lost in the sensation, the shame and numbness that persisted through so much felt more like a shadow cast and less like the core of his being. 

Perhaps this is what excitement felt like. True excitement instead of the anxiety and tenseness he’d found himself chasing and falling back into creating for so long. 

When they broke away for air again, Enki felt breathless in the best possible way. Cahara looked up at him with eyes that held nothing but mirth and merriment and luxuriation. Like a cat lounging in the sun. 

Enki knew he was not the sun though, not anywhere close even. To the point that it took his mind a second to process that this was directed at him. Cahara’s eyes had nowhere else to wander in this moment, they were focused and present and only on-

Cahara pulled Enki down again for another kiss, this one much gentler. It was more of a resting together of their lips combined with a brief moment of their noses brushes. Enki felt one of Cahara’s hands stray and wander up his thigh but he did nothing to stop the man. 

Enki couldn’t help the hiss that left his mouth once Cahara’s hand found his hipbone, and thumbed in the crevice. The smooth leather created an almost otherworldly feeling on the sensitive area. Enki felt Cahara stop and couldn’t help but look down at the man below him in question. 

“You alright there priestling?”  Cahara’s voice was only outwardly jovial, a brush of suaveness covering what Enki would have called concern if there was anyone that wasn’t himself involved. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Enki’s voice was noticeably softer than it should have been even to his own ears. Cahara shifted his thumb over the same spot again, moving to clutch Enki’s hip as well. This time, Enki looked Cahara dead in the eyes and didn’t move, surpressing the shudder of /something/ that tried to arise inside him. 

“The point of this,” The concern adjacent emotion was back in Cahara’s eyes and the man was clearly trying his best to keep his voice level. “Enki, is mutual pleasure.” The question hung at the end of the statement, unasked but clearly there. It was a brothel bed curtain hanging between them. Enki jolted to grab Cahara’s hand as it slowly started to retreat at Enki’s silence. He held it still tightly on his thigh  in his own through the thin barrier of his own robes. 

For a second they just stared at one another. Enki was hyper aware of the leaking /something/ somewhere in the background. 

Drip. 

Drop.

Drip.

Drop. 

“I am aware,” Enki stared at Cahara, searching for something not even he was aware of in those dark eyes. “I think it will greatly succeed in that measure.” The other man’s demeanor relaxed and Enki found himself being pulled down for another kiss. Enki responded in kind this time. He pressed back at Cahara and returned the other’s advances in intervals instead of laying dormant and letting the experience happen to him. When Cahara’s smooth glove migrated back up to Enki’s hip-bone Enki’s fingers had found the lip at the edge of Cahara’s vest. His slim fingers were able to slip just under the edge easily. Cahara broke the kiss, even as close as they still were Enki could see a smirk across the other man’s lips that meant nothing but pure mischief. He couldn’t help but mirror it with a slight curl of his own lips. 

“Eager to get me bare and exposed?” Cahara’s fingers dug oh so slightly into Enki’s posterior as he said that and the Dark Priest clicked his tongue in response.  

“Perhaps I don’t want to be the only one exposed,” Enki looked at Cahara’s eyes and how the light played off their shadowy depths in a way that showed pure mirth. It was almost enchanting. “This is an act of reciprocity is it not?”

“Ya’ got me there priestling,” Cahara’ s eyebrow arched in acknowledgement, yet his hand stayed steady and light on Enki’s hipbone. The mercenary below him simply stared up at Enki, like there was something special there. 

This time Enki leaned down to kiss him. 

Enki could feel Cahara at full mast beneath him and the thought wasn’t as intimidating or unwelcome as it would have been a week prior. He slipped his hands under the fabric Cahara wore tied around his waist. He stilled purposely when the other hummed appreciatively and waited a few seconds before continuing. His fingers found the closure of the sellsword’s pants rather easily, conveniently enough they were on the side of Enki’s dominant hand. They broke for air for a second, and Enki couldn’t help but grasp onto the lip of the opening before Cahara pulled him back down. Enki lightly tugged on the laces that held the garment shut in askance and Cahara more than happily obliged. 

Their lips pulled apart again and the man lifted his hips and Enki on top of them easily and roughly pulled his pants and small clothes down to his thighs before Enki even had time to react. Then those sticky fingered hands were wandering again, one pressed to Enki’s back and the other crept up under his braies and sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. Cahara leaned back, and looked like he wanted to lick his lips. 

“Your turn now priestling,” Enki could have bathed in the sound of his voice. With another delightful brush his own small clothes were at his ankles and Cahara’s lips were on his again and-

Enki wanted more. 

He deepened the kiss himself. Enki took Cahara’s hard cock in hand loosely and brushed his fingers up and down it ever so lightly. He relished in the shudder that ran through the other’s lips and body and at the depth and intensity of the contact. Then Cahara pushed him back slightly, breaking them apart momentarily as he bent down. The displeased noise that passed through Enki’s lips against his bidding made his cheeks heat slightly and Enki could hear Cahara snort lightly. 

“Are you ok with…” Cahara trailed off simply tilting the vial to and fro in a bare hand to emphasize his point, his glove likely discarded at their feet. 

“More than,” Enki idly stroked up and down the mercenary’s member as the cork was roughly popped out of the vial. The scent of chamomile was mild but still present. Enki was mildly surprised, this was something that was from outside. From the rest of the world outside this accursed little hell trap and her beautiful libraries. The significance was one that he realized he felt almost inappropriate receiving

Enki watched the faint smelling substance pour over Cahara’s fingers before he was pulled in for another kiss. The mercenary’s hands crept up from under him. Enki hummed as a calloused digit ghosted over his rim. Then again, this time making several small circles. Then Cahara pulled Enki slightly closer and slowly inserted the slick digit in. The mercenary’s hand settled fully on Enki’s back as another finger joined the first. He jolted forward as Cahara spread his fingers inside him and brushed something that sent a shivers up his back and warmth to his core again. Then enki was pressing down against Cahara’s hand and the other started pushing up in turn. Time felt like it was blurring when Cahara added another to the mix. Enki could feel cahara’s grin against his lips were they were still loosely connected but he still-

The mercenary’s fingers curled inside enki and roughly came out hooking on that /spot/ on the way. Enki couldn’t push himself down fast enough. He pulled back, and found himself breathless and then-

Something bigger pressed up and Enki pressed down. Only Cahara’s clean hand caught his hip.

“Easy now priestling,” The mercenary’s voice was soft while his grip was surprisingly iron-like. “Let me take care of this part.” Slowly and tantalizingly Cahara lowered Enki down, letting the other man’s dick enter slowly. Enki had to bite back a moan when oil slick fingers caressed his own member as well. 

Then he was fully sitting on Cahara’s lap again this time with nothing between the. There was no barrier between them on anything. 

“You ready?” Cahara’s lips brushed Enki’s cheeks as he said it and Enki didn't have the words for once to say anything. Instead he ground into Cahara’s lap delighting in the friction created. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Enki heard Cahara’s voice was full of mirth but before he had the time to be offended in any way Cahara had pressed a kiss to his cheek and then he was moving in. The first pass was slow. Cahara slid in with just the right amount of friction. Enki tried to swallow back a reflexive noise yet a slight hiss slipped past his lips. 

He wanted to push, to take control. To maintain a position of some power in a way that had always made him feel more secure. Yet Enki couldn’t find the will to. The almost violent urge, one that had always resembled a starving and beaten animal lashing out, pulsed there in the back of his mind. 

[deathbirby]

fungered some more

traded the girl for a free save cuz i was not gonna beat ending A at this point. rag tried to kill legarde in mahabre so i had to kill him. but it was all good, i took his soul and then went to the tower to get the endless soul because thats all i needed (killed enki in the beginning).

rag did have some gud gear that i couldnt get back now so that sucked. oh well i filled the missing 4th slot with a skeleton i named sans.

got to fight francois and beat his ass easily. legarde sits on the throne and leaves us like a bitch.

so this is where i go "uhh.. im gonna go jump into the open maw of the god of the depths" because i killed the last organ and was like "well i might as well." got my ass handed to me in the gauntlet several times before i reached gro who also handed my ass to me.

realize im weak as shit and go sit on the throne to beat legarde's ass instead. darce suddenly poofed from my party so i gotta find her. get to her and she's all ready to kick ass. we fight legarde because i aint gonna bow to his lying ass. darce gets killed JUST before i kill him.

escaped with sans and myself (cahara) - ending C

[dogshit-enchantment]

My 2023 video game year-in review (aka I'm just yelling into the void don't mind me lol)

Game Of The Year: Little Goody Two Shoes. I'm at about the halfway point but I have just been so completely and thoroughly impressed with it at every turn. The writing is exceptional, the story itself is incredible, the graphics??? Obsessed. AND THE MUSIC. AUGH THE MUSIC GOES SO HARD!!!!!!!!! And the fact that it's gay??? chefs kiss.

Honorable Mention(s): Pikmin 4 (the love of my life, I love you oatchi you are my babiest baby boy. Literally the only reason it's not my goty is just because rpg maker style games rule my heart), Vampire Survivors (switch co-op is so fucking pog), Harvestella (2022 game but I beat it in early 2023 so it counts for something), Fear & Hunger (not a 2023 game but that's when I played it. I love you, Funger)

Most Anticipated: Tears of the Kingdom which. If you've read any of my previous posts about it you'll know I did not enjoy it. TOTK now stands as the second-ever zelda game I didn't bother to finish. (First being Wind Waker but only because my fear of the sea/getting the triforce pieces in the gamecube ver was SO HARD FOR NO REASON. Love Windwaker so much, my not-finishing-it is a me problem, where as with TOTK it's a game problem)

Award Of Most Mid: Tried Fall Guys at a friends place and gotta say, it's just mid. Frustrating enough to not be fun but not frustrating or rewarding enough to warrant a feeling of real challenge/desire for mastery.

Worst Game: Didn't come out this year obvs, but Disco Elysium for switch. Controls are dogshit, text is illegible when on a tv not even 6 feet away, and the way that the stats are explained (or rather, not explained at all) is super frustrating given how shitty/infrequent the autosave is! The plot itself is probably fine, and the world building is interesting, but the game attached to it feels like something off of an early 2000s rpg, and I don't mean that in a good way. While Fear & Hunger gets an honorable mention despite being even harder, there's something about it that sets it aside from Disco. Funger is a game where you're meant to die, and often. While Disco feels like a game where you're not supposed to die, and doing so puts you back as far as the last time you saved. The game doesn't take care to set checkpoints or a reset spot because it's not meant to happen. Funger is a game where you're meant to die/retry so of course theres limited saving, thats the point. Intentional vs Unintentional difficulty/unfairness

anyway these are my personal opinions, feel free to disagree with them if i liked/disliked a game you feel opposite about.

[twilightarcade]

Second funger hypothetical:

Ah, now you remember your reasons for going through this damned dungeon. Your family, your whole village, it was massacred. That day, you were out hunting, spared by the terrors your community went through. All due to the fact that your village happened to possess an artifact a certain man wanted.

He was Le'Garde, the captain of a mercenary group called The Knights of the Midnight Sun. He was the one fixated on that artifact that your village paid with their blood. You sought out revenge, an eye for an eye.

You heard news he was trapped in Rondon's most horrifying dungeon, of course, that served him well. But you shall be the one to punish him. So you went on into the dungeon.

--

You made it through 7 levels of the dungeon. You found him. Barely alive. Barely breathing. Pulse still beating. The girl with you seemed relieved at his survival. Did she know him?

You let him awaken. You wanted to give him time for some last words. Perhaps not here, as you wouldn't want to burden this girl with your personal murder plot. But soon enough. As he rose, you saw a lot of scars and other injuries. It seems he's been through intense torture down here.

He spoke, he said he knew nothing. He remembered nothing. Only the memory of his name remained intact from his alleged amnesia. Trauma can of course cause one to block recollection of recent events... But something wasn't right. He can't have forgotten everything, could he?

The more you looked at his visage, you realise. Those piercing blue eyes. That face. He seemed to resemble the girl with you. Is that why she was relieved? Was he related to her? If he was faking this amnesia, was he even lying to someone who was close to him? Though she seemed to have no reaction to him and his lost memories.

Was he her father?

You feel as if he doesn't care for her. Simply a gut feeling, no rationality to back it up. You don't like this man. Bias, it could be. Willing to kill your child, and... His probably-daughter in this dungeon too...

How did she end up in here? Surely if she was his daughter, no sane person would merely lock her up for being related to him. She was like 10, for Alll-mer's sake. Did he happen to scheme something? Why was she locked up there?

They shared a glance.

He asks if he can join you. He wishes to move deeper into the dungeons. There's a door in the big hallway near this room, with bugs and vines. It lead up to a door that could only be opened with the artifact that your village once had, in the possession of the dungeon, but you took it back. He wishes to go through there, seek more of this god forsakened dungeon. There must be something he's hiding.

What do you do with him?

I hope you enjoy my epic descriptions 👍

murder is mean 👎

Ummmm I'll let him out but I'm not. Talking 2 him. Get stared at idiot

[mintcand3]

Did you beat Library of Ruina, and if so does Courtney have any relation to the Pianist?

Yes to the first, 'Maybe' to the 2nd :3c, definitely thought about it at one point, I like to leave a lot of things up to interpretation for people to see so rather saying if she is related or not to the Pianist, I'd say whatever headcanon you think for my nuggets, it's 50/50 funger coin flip that it's canon xP.

[bellamyblake]

The perfect sleeping arrangement

for @star-sky-earth

Alternate Universe-Canon divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Mommy!Kink, Nightmares, Anxiety Disorder

Bellamy always tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but at night he's breaking apart-anxiety and nightmares are tearing him up, yet he won't let Clarke take care of him. Unless she insists and he starts opening up to her. 

The only time Bellamy ever allowed Clarke to take care of him was at night.

During the day it was all about him doing everything he possibly could-going hunting, passing by medbay to bring her lunch, toss a scarf over her naked neck so she doesn’t get sick, ask her mom if she got anything for breakfast over her rolling eyes, make sure she comes back home before ten even though there’s a council meeting that night that he won’t attend because of his guard shift.

And it wasn’t just about her really-still, two years after they set their camp and started actually building it, he was taking care of the hundred as if they were his own children just like when they first landed-he brought Jasper a new jacket, fixed the roof of the co-joined cabin that Harper, Monty, Miller and a few other kids used, made sure to raid long-forgotten bunkers for winter supplies, participated in the shoveling of the snow, smoaking the meat from the game he had caught, helping Raven with the electricity solutions she needed figuring out as well as taking up as many guard shifts as he could especially during the winter when it was harder for the delinquents.

He even volunteered once a week in the small day care they opened last fall, reading books and telling stories to the kids in the midst of giving them a few history lessons here and there.

Overall he was stretching himself a little too thin and Clarke hated it even though whenever they fought about it, he always made sure to remind her that she’s no better than him.

And that may have been true but the thing was, he refused to let anyone ever take care of him, even her.

Even though he made sure she was fine all the damn time and it was the little things that broke her-him making her tea in the evening, bringing her hot water for her freezing feet and making sure she warmed up after her enthusiastic run in the back yard when the first snow hit, him tucking her up at night even when she kicked the blanket or finding the right kind of animal skin so he would sew her gloves for the winter.

He had even learned how to knit from a grounder woman during the summer festival and when they got back to camp he secretly traded a few sweaters for some yarn, only to start working on a beautiful blue scarf for her that he wrapped around her once the first winter days arrived.

It was great being with Bellamy but it was also heartbreaking, watching him give all of himself away and never expect anything in return.

Even when they kissed or had sex he always made sure she’s came first, always made sure to show her just how much he loved her, whispering words about her beautiful body in her ear as he teased her clit and bring her over the edge.

But when Clarke wanted to do the same, he’d try to get away, refusing the attention.

Some mornings she’d feel his hard cock against her butt and reach over to take him, turn around and kiss him, try to give him a good time but he’d kiss her forehead, mumble something like “I’m fine, princess, have to get to work, maybe some other time.” and slip away leaving her angry and sad that he just denied himself pleasure.

She knew why he did it, she had seen it from the moment back at that tree on their unfortunate day trip-he didn’t think he deserved it even though she had tried to make it known, even though she always made sure to show him how much he means to her, how much she loves him-but it wasn’t about that, it has never been about that-the fact remained-he didn’t believe he was worthy of being loved, of pleasure, even when it came from the person he cared for most in the world and who cared for him just as much in return.

The thing was, he tried to hide his problems away from her as well and that had been the last straw to turn things around.

At first it was his inability to sleep because of anxiety-he had a few days or even a week sometimes every month when he couldn’t sleep-nightmares plagued him and left him weak and exhausted but he would try to hide it from her at first until one night she came home and found him so tired that he had passed out by the hearth, having only just started the fire.

She can't even move him no matter how hard she wants to. She kneels down, puts her hands under his armpits and tries but he's so heavy. On top of everything he's all wet from the snow-his jacket's peppered with fastly melting snowflakes, his hair was drenched-the curls stuck to his forehead, he was freezing and she knew his boots leaked too, so she had to get him out of it and warm him up.

”Come on, Bell, wake up, let's get you to bed.” and he manages to wake up, get to a half-awake state but he's so out of it, like a drunk five year old who had absolutely no idea what was happening to him.

”C-larke?”

“Yeah, come on, please I can't lift you on my own."

“I'm tired.” he mumbles.

“I know, but you need to get to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it's cold out here you'll get sick”

“I'm fine...it's by the fire...just...leave me”

“No, I’m not leaving you, come on, please.” she’s desperate at that point, feels her own tears picking up at her eyes.

“It's okay, I like it here.”

“It's the wooden floor, your back already hurts, it's time for bed, please help me, please,” he groans a little, too tired to even lift his head and look at her but then she adds “for me.”

And that does it.

He manages to lift his feet just a little so she can drag him to bed and spray him diagonally at first, then she starts undressing him slowly, he's moaning everything hurts him-he's absolutely exhausted, tired to his very bone, hadn't slept in days, worked all through it too on top of it.

He's a baby when she undresses him he goes “I’m cold.”  when he doesn't have clothes on or “Ohh, my feet!”  when she takes his boots off and finds his blisters.

She’s pretty sure he’s only ever saying that because he’s not coherent of anything happening around him and he’s just a child speaking his mind.

It wasn’t just a one time deal, though-it kept happening and it worsened significantly with the change of the seasons-when winter settled he got bad, really damn bad and his anxiety made him jumpy, sad and insomniac.

In the spring it was a little better but still quite hard and the hot summer nights would throw him into another nightmare spiral that could last a month and leave him absolutely exhausted until the autumn winds hit and allowed him to breathe somewhat.

She takes him to Jackson when she comes home one night to find him passed out in his work clothes again. This time he's too tired to fully wake so she has to pile the blankets and pillows on the floor and sleep with him there to make sure he's warm enough.

Clarke figures out quickly that he loves being spooned, held, kissed-he groaned content when she ran her fungers through his hair-he liked being warm but he didn’t wear clothes in bed except for his boxers and he enjoyed most of all when she tucked him in first after taking all of his clothes and then sliding in bed, wrapping herself like a monkey around him and holding him tight.

Jackson had prescribed him some anxiety meds but after talking to some grounders at the summer Polis trade between clans, Clarke found herbs they could use to brew as a tea for him to drink.

It didn’t always do the job but it helped significantly.

Still, she figured out he had a need for her late at night in those vulnerable moments and the more they occured, the more he allowed himself to be like this despite the constant battle in his heart.

He liked being pampered, liked her momming him, taking care of him like that.

But there was still something that tips the scales and it comes from the most unexpected places of all.

Second year around when the camp is up and running, all of them have to go through the mandatory health check ups.

Of course, Bellamy had tried to get away with his, sneak out but Clarke had grabbed him by the collar-literally and dragged him there for his mom to do it, knowing if it was her, they probably would end up with her pinned on the cot, him on top, pushing into her, instead of her taking in his pulse.

And that’s when it happens-her mom takes in his blood pressure and finds it too high, listens to his heart carefully and furrows her eyebrows as she focuses. Clarke feels the cold spread through her from her back through her entire body when her mom tells them things are out of norm but that if he takes some blood pressure medicine to regulate it, everything will be alright.

Clarke hates herself for it though-she should’ve noticed it sooner. She always let herself be held by him and she had noticed, as she rest her head over his chest, that his heart beat too fast but she thought it was just him being too tired or maybe the anxiety was making it worse for him but she never once thought something could be wrong.

That’s when things changed and she refused to let him get away with being taken care of anymore.

His heart beat became her good night lullaby.

During the day he was still Bellamy the guard, Bellamy the hunter, Bellamy the protector of his silly kids starting with Jasper, Bellamy the love of her life who brought her lunch.

But at night things shifted.

He’d sit in bed and wait for her to come out of the bathroom.

“Took your anxiety meds?” he nods seriously “The blood pressure ones?”

“Yep.”

“You sure?” he had  stupid phase where he tried not to take them for a few weeks so they could save recources and ration them and she hadn’t talked to him for days after.

“I’m sure, Clarke.”

“Good boy.” she praises as she comes over “Time for bed now.” she lays him down covers him up and he looks at her with big brown beautiful eyes.

”You coming?”

“Right in, you big baby.” she promises as she leans over and kisses his forehead.

“Can you hold me?” he’s learned to ask for that with time and she had made sure to show him how proud she was of it.

“Of course.” she tucks him in and then quickly slides in on the other side of bed, wrapping herself around him, her arm over his chest and leg thrown over his. Her other one sneaks under his neck and she pushes his head to her chest so that he’s a little lower than her and her chin cover his head. That way she had quick access to his hair and she runs her fingers through his curls gently, helping him relax.

Because at night she sleeps deep, she doesn’t always hear when he wakes up from his nightmares or terrors and the only thing betraying him would be the dark circles under his eyes in the morning, so she has to ask every night how the previous one had been because only then would he be honest.

“How was last night?” he knows the question will come so he shivers a little as she holds him.

“Not too bad.”

“How many times did you wake up?”

“Once” he lies. She tightens her grip on his chest.

“Your shirt was soaked, Bell.” he shrugs and closes his eyes but she insists ”So? How many times?”

“Three.” he lets out quietly and she wraps herself tighter around him

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“You know I can't.” she knew he wouldn’t, he never did. Unless she was there to scold him and force him to lay still while she took care of him after a night terror, he wouldn’t say a thing.

He had admitted once that he would wake up gasping for breath but force himself not to move too much and instead just stare at the ceiling while he calmed down so he wouldn’t wake her up.

She hated it. She hated whatever made him hate himself so much that he’d refuse to reach out even to her.

She knew it was about the way he was raised-his mom loved him according to his words and fond memories of her, but she was stern and had expectations for him especially after Octavia was born when the real hell began.

He had anxiety then too, night terrors as well, he may have developed this heart condition just because of the constant stress he was put under, he just had no way of knowing it.

One night as she was holding him he admitted he wouldn’t sleep at night after O was born, he’d check on her and his mom all the time, then sleep by the door when they knew there would be random check ups in Factory.

He’d fall off his bed as he tossed in his nightmare sleep, he’d shake all the time, grow restless or too tired, get angry sometimes-all signs of what he was still suffering from now.

Something else that happened lately as she came to find out-because he was so exhausted from his lack of sleep, he’d take short naps in hiding, away from her, so he wouldn’t bother her with his pain.

He’d go to the small overhang they had in the backyard where they kept the woods and sleep there and she’d hate it when he did that because it was so cold there she worried he’d get sick or he'd hide out in the kitchen while Murphy prepared dinner after bringing in the game he caught with the hunting party outside. He'd even spray on one of the metal tables at Raven and Monty's tent where they discussed plans for the camp.

So she knows, comes to figure out that spooning him and holding him helped a lot so all of this didn't have to happen. So he wouldn't have to hide away.

But something else did too.

Clarke would ask him if he’s okay, if she could do something else besides holding him but he’d of course shake his head and grumple a soft childish “I’m fine.”

She’d know better do, could always tell by the way he folds into her if he’s more vulnerable than usual, if it’s worse that night than the previous from the way his hands tremble or how he pushes his head into her hand looking for her touch.

In those nights, like tonight, she slides her hand down to hix boxers, digs in and pumps his cock to hardness.

He gasps a little, pushes his back into hers and looks up, searching for her eyes.

He doesn't want her to worry so much, so he tries to tell her it's okay but she wouldn't hear it and she jerks him off like this from behind. She knew exactly how he liked it by now-starting slowly, teasingly from the tip of his cock before sliding all the way down and cupping his balls for a moment before taking him in again.

His legs kick off the blanket just a little, he arches his back and she reins him in, calms him down, by kissing him softly, starting from his cheek, to his chin, sliding down to his neck, peppering him with her love, making sure to pay attention to all the freckles she sees in her way.

Her other hand is still in his hair-tucking at his curls, moving his head just the right way to expose more of him to her, give her a better angle as he gasps into her arms and calls for her untill he comes gasping, head buried in her chest, begging to be held, tighter, to be cuddled.

Finally, she lets him roll over when he's spent and he buries his head in her chest.

Clarke knows what he wants.

He loved sucking her tits after a good blowjob like this but she teases him a little like a boy who wants to be fed in the middle of the night but his mom's sleeping.

Bellamy buries his nose between her tits, breathes her in, lets her run her fingers through his curls, soft talk him, baby him until his quiet moans turn to desperate ones and he starts sucking, searching for her through her thin shirt.

“So impatient.”  she jokes “You want some of that big boy?”

He whines, writhes against her just a bit, searching for more like a desperate hungry kid.

“What's up?” she runs her fingers through his hair once more while he keeps trying to bury deeper into her, probably hating the fact that she decided to wear a shirt tonight but it was winter and she was cold. “You hungry?”

He groans, buries his head even closer, searches for her nipple but can't find it through the awful angle that her tits are in now that she’s laying on her side “Want me to lift that up for you?” she asks grabbing the hem of her shirt that is in fact one of his “Want to suck on mom's tits?”

He looks up then, moves away a little and she wants to laugh at how cute and adorable he is-his mouth hanging a little, saliva drooling on his chin from his desperate attempts to get to her tits.

He gives her a soft hurt look, his eyes so lost and desperate, the barest of nods and she just can't deny him when he does that-he’s so sweet, so gentle, so broken.

And so exhausted.

“Maybe this will help him fall into a fitful sleep.” Clarke thinks as she cups his cheek and runs her thumb over the dark circle under his eye.

He's so tired, it's the absolute picture perfect of a boy turned baby needing his mom and a hungry for his partner man.

She can’t handle it, would be lying if this wasn’t doing things to her too, so she raises herself up just a little and pulls her shirt off.

His reaction is immideate, he doesn’t even wait for her to fully lay back down when he takes the nipple of her right breast in his mouth and sucks on it hard.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up closer to him, wants to feel all of her pressed to his body, needs to have her there with him.

He doesn't just kiss her he sucks on her like a baby that's expecting for milk to come and it leaves her gasping and thrusting into his leg at the feel of her own wetness pooling into her but it is him that breaks her heart- he's so desperate for love and affection it's absolutely devastating for her.

It's noisy, he's smacking on her like a hungry baby and he's beautiful, so damn beautiful.

But he also never forgets about her-he sneaks his hand down to her ass and squeezes it, which makes her panties drench with her wetness and she grinds a little into him but she doesn't need release-this is about him, just him.

He gets a little hard again but it's not about that either now-he just wants to suck on her breasts and move his hands down her ass then up her back, then to her stomach-he loves touching her stomach, the softness there, the round curves that make her arch her back a little, makes her moan above him, reach out and put her hand on his shoulders, looking for something to support her.

Then he goes down to her panties, sinks in a finger into her making her gasp as he moves to her other breast, smacking just as hard, desperate for her beautiful breasts, desperate to beheld in her arms, to be vulnerable around her but also to love her, to let it pour out of him in any way possible.

And when he's had enough of touching her he brings his fingers up, pulls away for just a moment so he could spread her wetness around her nipple before sucking onto it hard again.

“Bellamy-” she gasps and he moves away from her nipple for just a second, peppers her chest with soft little kisses, moves to the valley of her breasts, drags his tongue there before sucking onto the skin just above her right breast and pulling her closer to him by the waist.

“Bell-”

He moves away a little, looks up at her asking if he did something wrong, worrying like always but she just takes his face in her hands and pulls him in for a kiss. She’s as desperate to have him as he is her but Clarke knows this is about him, so after she lets him go they just pant a little, breathe with hurry and desperation after their recent endeavours.

Her hand falls to his chest, his fast beating heart and she wants to command it to slow down.

“Ready to fall now?” she asks and he sneaks a glance down to her chest again before he looks right up, not daring speak out his desires but trying to silently ask for them anyway.

Without words.

He could never speak for himself.

But she would.

“You can take one if you want to.” she prompts him gently tugging at his neck and pushing him back to her chest.

“You don’t mind?” he asks and his voice comes out too small, too scared for her liking.

Clarke hurries to shake her head.

“In fact I love it.” he tilts his head a little as if asking “Really?” and she smiles “I love having you so close at night.”

HIs head falls and he looks down for a minute, accepting her answer, but trying to gather up the courage to ask something else.

“Will you still hold me?”

“Of course I will.” she promises and he smiles, beams really in a way she rarely sees on him which makes her sad because he should be like this all the time.

He quiets down after but not before slipping his hand back in her pants and sinking three fingers into her again, it's like he just wanted to be there, always, being the Bellamy that he is, to always give in return.

She grinds a little into him, he pumps her some but then they settle.

She watches him, cups his cheek runs her hand through his curly bangs smiles and kisses his forehead.

He gets a little shy like what he wants of her is too much, too weird maybe but she confirms again with a little nod that says ”It's okay, you can go ahead” and he wraps his mouth around her nipple again and smacks like a baby until finally he quiets and they fall asleep like this-his fingers in her and his mouth on her-the perfect sleeping arrangement.

[faithambr]

Priceless Chapter 7

(Author’s Note: Please be advised that this chapter contains the mentions of rape. So be prepared for some brutal stuff. Rated M for this specific reason!)

Previous Chapter

Master Post

Why is he here? Anna thought just as Hans had arrived in the bedroom. Why am I here?

Her mind was a bit cloudy, after her friend Meg had given her some pills to take. She knew that she was still in the same room, yet she didn’t expect someone else to join her. She figured that he was probably just going to help make her feel better.

“Å, jeg plager deg, Anna?“ Hans gave her a concerned look as he sat right next to her. (Oh am I bothering you, Anna?)

“Å nei.” she mumbles, her mind in a haze. (Oh no.) “Du plager meg ikke i det hele tatt.” (You’re not bothering me at all.)

“bra.” Hans lets out with a sly grin. “Nå hvordan er du fornøyd med det her?“ (Good. Now how are you liking it here?)

“Det er fint..” Anna answers while Hans was making her a drink. (It is fine.)

“bra.” Hans smirks, knowing what he was going to do next. “Nå hvor vokste du opp i Norge?“ (Good. Now where did you grow up in Norway?)

“I nærheten av Oslo.” Annas answers. (Near Oslo.)

“Hvor?“ (Where?)

“En liten by som heter Arrendelle.” Anna continues. “Du har sikkert aldri hørt om det før.“ (A small town called Arrendelle. You’ve probably never heard of it before.)

“Å jeg har.“ Hans chuckles as he sat back down and offers her a drink. “Her må du være tørst.“ (Oh I have. Here, you must be thirsty.)

Sure she was. Hell, she has never been more thirsty in her life. Maybe it was from what Meg had given to me. she thought while Hans was giving her an intensifying look. 

“Takk, hans.“ she had finally spoke as she gulped down her drink. (Uh, thank you Hans.)

“Du er hjertelig velkommen, min kjære. “ Hans lets out with a sly smirk. “Si at du ikke har noen venner i Arrendelle?“ (You’re welcome, my dear. Say don’t you have any friends back in Arrendelle?)

“ja,” Anna nods with her head still in the clouds, “ja jeg gjør.” (Yes, yes I do.)

“Hva var deres navn?“ (What were their names?)

“Jeg husker ikke.“ Anna answers just as he leans into her comfort zone. (I can’t remember.)

“Vel jeg kan være din venn hvis du vil.“ Hans gave her a mischievous smirk as he placed his hand on her thigh. (Well I can be your friend, if you want.)

“Det høres fint ut.“ she whispers with uneasiness in her voice. “Jeg tror det.“ (That does sound nice. I guess so.)

“Men vennskapet,” Hans began with a cold look, “mitt kommer til en pris.“ (Except my friendship comes at a cost.)

What? Anna had thought while Hans was gently massaging her thigh. No!

“Du ser,” Hans continues as he gently removes a strand of her hair behind her ear, “mange av jentene ville ønske å være her, men i stedet jeg valgte deg, Anna.“ (You see, many of the girls would want to be here, but instead I chose you, Anna.)

“nei.” Anna trembles in fear. (No.)

“nei?” Hans gave her a cold stare. “Jeg sa jo at du er heldig som er her hos meg?“ (No? Didn’t I just tell you how lucky you are to be here with me?)

“nei!” Anna cries out. “Nei jeg vil ikke gjøre det!“ (No! No I won’t do it!)

“Gjør du ikke det?“ Hans groans in frustration.

“Jeg vil jobbe av gjelden,” Anna continues with tears spilling on her cheeks, “men jeg vil ikke gjøre det.” (I will work off the debt, but I won’t do it.)

“Ja, det vil du.“ Hans bellows as he grabs Anna by the arms. “Du ser noen jente som fungerer for meg, får dele noen av kjærlighet som jeg har for dem.“ (Yes you will. You see any girl that works for me, gets to share some of the love that I have for them.)

“Nei,” Anna chokes out with pain, “dette er ikke det kjærlighet ser ut som.” (No, this isn’t what love looks like.)

“Nei,” Hans smirks, making her feel terrified, “dette er hva min kjærlighet føles.“ (No, this is what my love feels like.)

“Nei,” Anna argues back, making his grip on here even more tighter, “dette er ikke kjærlighet!“ (No, this isn’t love!)

“Vel jeg beg å variere.“ Hans sneers in satisfaction. “Faktisk er jeg sikker på at din søster ville elske å bli med oss akkurat nå.“ (Well I beg to differ. In fact, I’m sure that your sister would love to join us, right now.)

No! she thought in fear as she watched a cold dark Hans form into the existence. She knew that Hans would do anything to her, yet she didn’t expect him to talk about her sister. Her heart was pounding at the thought of him taking advantage of the both of them. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t allow Hans to take advantage of her sister. She couldn’t allow him to do all of the things that he wants to Elsa. Therefore, she had to make the decision and she had to make it now.

“Duke!” Hans calls out as he shoves Anna down on to the bed. “Bring her in!”

“Anna!” Elsa cries out just as she was brought into the room.

“Now this is what I like to see,” Hans smirks, making the two sisters shake in fear, “two sisters protecting each other.”

No! Anna had thought. I won’t allow this! I won’t allow him to hurt her!

“Makes me wanna have even more fun, huh?” Hans sneers, causing Anna to sob even more tears.

“Anna!” Elsa cries out.

“No!” Anna sobs into convulsions as she stood right in front of her sister.

“No?” Hans quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I will do it!” Anna chokes out in both fear and pain. “I will do it!” 

“Alright then.” Hans smirks in satisfaction, making Elsa cry even more. “Duke, take Elsa away and I’ll take care of her later.”

“No, please, no!” Elsa calls out in emotional pain while she was being dragged away from her sister. “Anna!”

“Now,” Hans lets out with a cold grin, after Elsa was out of the room, “where were we?”

No! Anna had thought with her eyes filled up with fear and pain.

“Oh yes.” Hans smirks as he pulls her in for a forceful kiss.

As Hans was doing what he wanted with Anna , Elsa was cowering in fear for her sister. She couldn’t believe that her sister was protecting her, even when she was doing something that she didn’t want to.

“Hyggelig Gud,” she had silently prayed with tears, as she covered her ears to muffle the cries of her sister, “hjelp henne! Hjelp oss! Få oss ut herfra!“ (Please God, help her! Help us! Get us out of here!)

A few hours later

His heart was pounding at the thought of what to do next as he leaned up against the dresser in his small motel room. He knew that he had to figure out a plan to rescue the two sisters, but how? How is he going to get them out of the unknown? How can he help them escape from that hellhole? Sure he’ll find a a way but how can he protect them from the others that would want to kill them? Hell, will he even be able to protect them?

I don’t know. he thought with such pain and grief in his heart. I just don’t know. 

He figured that the two sisters were hurting just like him. He knew that they would probably never trust him again, no thanks to him delivering them to that hellhole. However, his heart was aching for Anna as he pulled out his cell phone just to look at her picture. He knew that she was the younger sister out of the two, yet he didn’t expect his heart to beat faster with each look from her eyes. Maybe she’ll give me a chance. he thought with a small smile forming. But how will I ever find her? I need to find her!

He knew that his resources were limited to finding her, but he had to try. He had to figure out to even get a hold of Hans. He knew that Hans was some kind of pimp, yet he just had to be sure. I just have to know. he thought as he took a glance over at the alarm clock. I just gotta know.

The alarm clock was telling him that it was way past his son’s usual dinner time, but that didn’t really matter. All that had mattered to him was finding out where the two sisters were and then to rescue them. He knew that finding them would take risks, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about how some people were gonna come after them. He knew that the risks would be inevitable, but he has to try. I just have to. he thought as he quickly pulled out a card from his pocket. I just have to know.

He took a glance at the card at the palm of his hand. He knew that this could be his only chance to save them; therefore, he had to make that phone call. 

“Yeah,” the person on the other line had answered, “what do you want?”

“You got an available girl for tonight?” Kristoff had asked.

“Yeah sure.” the man spoke. “What do ya want?”

“A girl,” Kristoff began as if he was ordering her online, “with reddish hair, freckles, and blue eyes.”

“I see.” the man states. “Let me see if I can get one for you.”

“Okay.” Kristoff replies back, not knowing what else to say.

“Well it looks like I don’t have her available just yet.”

“Look,” Kristoff began with such urgency, “I am willing to pay for her. Only her.”

“How much?”

“How long?”

“$1000 an hour.” the man spoke, making Kristoff’s stomach plummet to the ground. “Just only for her.”

“Okay.” Kristoff lets out in despair. “Where do I meet you?”

“Motel 28, off of Swenson,” the man begain his instructions, “Room 24b, second floor.”

“Thanks.” Kristoff adds as he wrote down all of the correct information.

“Welcome.” the man replies back just before he hung up the phone.

Great. Kristoff thought as he took a look at his phone. Just great.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he had just ordered Anna to be his prostitute for the night. He knew that Anna was going to hate him for it, but he had no choice. He had to do it. He had to call her pimp, just so that he could save her from that hell of a home. His mind was telling him to forget about her, yet his heart was telling him to rescue her. He knew that Anna would want him to rescue both her and her sister, but he had no choice. Maybe if I rescue her tonight. he thought as he walked on out of his motel room. Then I should be able to rescue her older sister.

A few miles on down the road

Well this is it. Kristoff had thought as he stood right in front of Room 24b. This is where I’m suppose to save her.

It was close to midnight, by the time Kristoff had arrived at the dingy motel. He knew that the motel was a bit dirty and old. At least the curtains look new. he thought while he was waiting at the door. He figured that the man would probably have her in that room, but couldn’t see. Everything around him was dimly lit, including the motel room.

“It’s you.” a voice had interrupted his thoughts. “What do you want?”

“You know,” Kristoff had tried his best to smile, “what I am paying for.”

“No.” the man snapped. “You can’t have her. You just transported her here today.”

“Look,” Kristoff began with some uneasiness in his voice, “I just want to get a piece of her before I go.”

“No.” the man argues.

“I’ll double it,” Kristoff offers to the man, “and I’ll pay with cash.”

The man then remained serious at his words, making Kristoff feel terrified on the inside. “Fine,” the man had let out with a raspy breath, “I’ll make a phone call.”

“Thanks.” Kristoff breathes in, hoping for the better. 

However that may take a long time for him to see.