foolishmemers | Foolish Mortals Kink Meme!

(Stolen from DRRP's Kink Meme)

HERE'S SOME GUIDELINES/RULES:
1. All requests- smut, fluff, gen or otherwise (alternate murders, anyone?)- are welcome so long as it's about Foolish Mortals.
2. Fic and art fills are all good.
3. This is for all rounds of Foolish Mortals. Intermingled cast requests ("what if so-so and so-so from this and that round met?") are acceptable. (Even though there's only the Mock Trial and one Round so far)
4. Staying anon is fun but not required
5. There's going to be enough dicks to go around we don't need you to be one too.
6. Use proper trigger/content warnings for sensitive and/or offensive subjects, just like you would in FM proper.
7. This is a judge free zone, however, we only ask that you be mindful of character ages, esp. in regards to the younger characters.
8. If you do not want your character to be involved with the smut or things that make you uncomfortable please contact us. This is ultimately just for fun and we would hate for it to become upsetting for anyone.
9. Respect player wishes if they ask to not have their character be in smut or anything out of their comfort zone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The slot machine in the mansion game room has had a habit since the very beginning of producing items that are, perhaps, unusual. Lefou knows when he pulls that lever he might find an entire dead zebra in his lap, but after everything else he's seen in this house a dead zebra would be practically benign. He only has one coin to spend anyway, which is something of a relief after the practical deluge he had to deal with last time.

What thunks out of the machine is not a dead zebra. It isn't one of those lion pelts they now have enough of for every guest room to have its own rug, either. It's a long, smooth thing with a tapered tip on one end and a flat sort of cap on the other. It's a demure shade of lavender and he can't imagine what the hell it could possibly be except that it looks like -- but surely is in't, even if the way the tapered end bulges out oh-so-slightly is highly suspect. No, it's some sort of esoteric future technology, which means he knows who he ought to ask if he wants an explanation better than the one his provincial mind can come up with.

He finds Ford and Fiddleford in the study. Fiddleford is tuning his banjo, checking and re-checking the strings even though she's already perfectly in-tune. Lefou has learned by now it's a particular quirk of his to do it five times before he's satisfied. Ford is reading a book, and while Lefou can't read the cover he can recognize it on-sight as Cosmos, which he knows for a fact Ford has read cover-to-cover quite a few times already. It's busywork for the both of them, something to keep occupied because in this place keeping occupied is just about all they have. He can tell by the way they both look up in unison with almost grateful expressions when he enters the room that even busywork isn't helping much right now.

"Lefou, my boy!" Ford shuts his book, not even bothering to mark his place. "I was --"

He stops and his expression does something very peculiar indeed. It looks very much like he's trying his level best to swallow back a laugh.

"Where did you, ah. Where did you get that?" He gestures to the thing, which Lefou is holding loosely at his side.

"Oh, this?" He lifts it up a little. Both Ford and Fiddleford follow it with their eyes. "It came out of the slot machine and I wondered if you could tell me what it was."

It's Fiddleford who breaks first, with a wheezy kind of laugh and a soft oh my lord, and once he starts laughing Ford has to start laughing too. This is unusual, because while there is certainly no shortage of things in this house that they understand a whole lot better than he does it's never been a point of mockery. He looks between the two of them, waiting for them to tell him what he's missing.

"Oh, hon, I'm sorry," Fiddleford says; he was the first to break but he's also the first to be concerned with not giving the wrong impression. "It's just-- that's--"

"It's a sex toy," Ford explains. "Here, let me see it."

"Oh -- here."

He holds it out and Ford takes it, turns it over in his hands, and then twists near the flat end. It begins to whir. Lefou doesn't startle, exactly, but his eyebrows certainly do jump a measurable distance toward his hairline. Ford twists it silent again and looks at him with an expression that clearly is meant to say 'you see?' but he doesn't see at all. It seems so… needlessly complicated. It'd be like having a machine to dry your hair when the air does that just fine already.

"Don't you… I mean, you have hands in the future still." This is a valid point, he feels, even if he also feels a little stupid saying it because… well… it seems so obvious? He knows all the things a person can do to another with their hands and all of them are perfectly serviceable. He's having a slightly harder time parsing what one is meant to do with that whirring contraption, except perhaps put it places he'd prefer to have other things put in the first place.

They both look at him as though this is perhaps the most charming thing anyone has ever said.

"Oh, sure," Fiddleford agrees. "But hands get tired, don't they? And they can't always get all the places you might want them to and then you've got wranglin' another person to contend with because that's about the only other way to fix that problem, isn't it, but not everyone wants to deal with that either. It's a quality of life sort of thing, y'see."

"You should host vibrator infomercials," Ford says with a warm chuckle. Lefou doesn't know what an infomercial is exactly but he has a feeling that asking would just complicate the issue. "What he means is that yes, people in the future are perfectly capable of using their hands, but many of them like to have other options available."

That tracks, to a point. Coming from these two, though, he feels like he's missing something. It's no secret what they are to each other; he's very well-aware of that and has been for weeks, which is only a little longer than he's been casually participating in it. Fiddleford once tried to explain 'swinging' to him and it was a concept he grasped easily after Ford stepped in to keep the conversation from going in too many circles. The point is that he knows that they're perfectly capable of fucking without other options because he's seen it firsthand, so it feels like something of a moot point.

Some of the many, many misgivings Lefou is having must be showing through in his expression because Fiddleford says, "Somethin' not makin' sense?"

He shakes his head, his dark curls of hair bouncing around his face. "I understand it in theory, but it seems like if you're going to add on more options it's not a very good one, is it? Comparatively?"

"Ah, now. I don't think that's quite fair to say when you can't properly compare to begin with," Fiddleford says. There's something in his tone Lefou can't quite place because it's closest to what he might parse as a threat except he doesn't feel at all threatened. Funny enough, he never has with them. "Y'know what? You let me keep this, give me a couple of days to get things ready, and then if you're amenable to it I'll give you a demonstration."

"I think you'll like it," Ford adds, expression earnest. "Fiddleford knows his way around this sort of thing."

Lefou looks between the two of them (Ford's face is open and encouraging, while Fiddleford's expression is more akin to a schoolmaster patiently waiting for the answer to an arithmetic problem) and decides that everything they've done together up to this point has been nice. He has no reason to expect that whatever the two of them are planning to do to him with that little lavender device won't also be nice. And if it isn't… well, he's found himself in the singularly novel position of knowing that if he changes his mind, the only consequence he'll have to face is them stopping.

"Well… okay. Okay, I'll give it a try." Privately he still doesn't think he'll like it nearly so much as they seem to think he will, but he's just curious enough about what Fiddleford needs 'a couple of days' to do that he's willing to suspend his judgement. It certainly helps to see Ford's earnest expression melt into a pleased smile, to see the way Fiddleford's eyes get bright like he's already working and re-working plans in his head.

He has a feeling that whatever happens, this is going to be interesting.

Foolish Mortals Kink Meme!

1/? theres not even smut in this part