#the question is What exactly the master would mean by 'what they did to me'

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[tgcg]

this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

[steddieas-shegoes]

A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”

Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.

“I mean, do you know how to read?”

Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.

“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”

Steve threw his arms up in frustration.

Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.

But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.

And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.

But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.

And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.

Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.

He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.

“Stevie, you got a minute?”

Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.

Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.

Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.

So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.

Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.

The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.

“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”

“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”

“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.

“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”

And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.

But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.

“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”

He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.

Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?

“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”

Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.

“I used to, yeah.”

“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.

Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.

“Steve’s my ride!”

“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”

“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”

“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”

Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.

As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”

Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You have a list I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, then we better get started.”

“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”

“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”

Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.

“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”

“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.

“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”

“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”

“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”

“Is it The Hobbit?”

“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.

“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.

“So, your house is empty.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m assuming you own this book.”

“I do.”

“And it’s getting late.”

Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.

“It’s late.”

“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”

“Won’t I miss some of the book?”

“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”

Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.

“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”

Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.

“Okay.”

So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.

Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.

Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.

Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.

And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.

They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.

Part 2 (Angst)  / Part 2 (Fluffy) /  Part 2 (Explicit)

[nail-art-no-jutsu]

🍅

Here's why I really love Sasuke and Itachi's parents, and why it makes complete sense that he'd want justice for them. Pro all these characters.

There's a lot that can be said about how Mikoto and Fugaku raised Itachi, how the boys got compared to each other, and how more often than not parents get more practice with parenting the more children they have, and so the last child gets to know them at a different parenting skill level...

But.

It really says a lot that Sasuke was able to actually go ahead and ask his mother a very difficult question for a child. It's easy to imagine that it's not the first time he came to her with a tough question, and it shows that she was a safe person for him to talk to.

And I like what she replied, too. I love how calm she was, a lot of parents and caregivers would absolutely take it personally and punish the child for daring to ask such a thing. Not Mikoto. She's listening.

Then she tells Sasuke that it only seems that Fugaku is paying more attention to Itachi because he's older and one day he will inherit his father's position. And more importantly,

Mikoto explains that basically Fugaku is generally sullen and awkward but it doesn't have to mean anything, and when they talk in private, he does talk about Sasuke all the time.

And if mother says that father talks to her about him, it's enough for Sasuke, he doesn't need to hear his father's words with his own ears. He doesn't sit there wondering, well great but what if I had never asked, because that kind of world isn't possible for him. He lives in a world where it is safe to ask his mother such things.

Right after that, Fugaku arrives and they have tea together. Sasuke doesn't feel comfortable asking why exactly his father and Itachi fought, at least not right now, but he does ask about the Sharingan, and says he'll master it one day because he is his son, which makes Mikoto smile:

She's glad to see that Sasuke is already acting like a boy who knows that he's important to his father, who never doubted that. He's acting like this to see if what Mikoto said really is true, and she doesn't take this personally either. She knows that Fugaku will respond in a way that Sasuke will appreciate.

And then the best thing happens.

Sasuke is brave enough now to talk to his father the same way he talked to his mother just earlier. If he wasn't safe to ask stuff like this before, he is now. He responded well to Sasuke's first question, about the Sharingan, and now he's asking something a lot more personal. He doesn't wait for Fugaku to leave so he can ask Mikoto instead.

We're shown that Fugaku is the same as Mikoto in the sense that he doesn't reject Sasuke just for asking such a thing, or even for thinking it, like many parents are capable of doing, he takes his question seriously, he doesn't even always have to be awkward, he trusts his young son with something surprisingly vulnerable:

So in short:

Sasuke: mom, why doesn't dad pay attention to me? also Sasuke: dad, why doesn't my brother pay attention to me?

Basically, even though Sasuke did have some difficulties at home, we see that both his parents were in fact open to communication, and I'm getting the impression that they regret not being able to do better with Itachi. In any case, Sasuke can be confident after this that both his parents care about his feelings, and that he can ask them anything. That if more problems appear they can be solved through communication.

How many children have parents like that?

And who wouldn't want to turn the world upside down to avenge them?

P.S.

I also think that this is what enabled Sasuke's interest in the truth later on, to the point that he would resurrect the previous Hokage to hear it. He's always been a questioner, and it was never frowned upon or rejected, he was loved unconditionally underneath it all, even if it did take, well, a bit of questioning to learn that.

Yeah!! 🍅🥰🤗

I bet they would have been the best in-laws too lol

[shrenvents]

My Bounty.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal, unprotected sex, force play. Minors dni

Pairing: Clone Wars (single) Anakin Skywalker x Bounty Hunter reader

Summary: Anakin Skywalker goes above and beyond to make your life difficult, taking whatever he wants without explanation. So when reader confronts him, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1.7k

…

The meddling nature of the Jedi was nothing compared to the nature of Anakin Skywalker. His darkness seeps its way into everything. His dark robe, gloves, boots, curls, eyes. He was the darkness enveloping me in a dizzying spiral of hate and desire. And he did it again. He stole my bounty just so he could give me that dark look.

His gaze observes the way my fists clench and how I chew my bottom lip. A wicked smirk dances on his face as clones praise and pat him on the back. He knew exactly what he was doing, watching me with an intensity, that had me shaking.

Finally, Anakin’s eyes move away from my figure, beckoned by his Master. He stalks towards Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mocking facade breaks instantly. I nearly scream at the sight. What was he hoping to achieve? Stealing my potential profits is certainly an interesting pastime, not one you would expect from “the chosen one.”

I huff out my frustration, deflating my tense shoulders. With his back now turned, I relax. Pivoting on my heel, I hurry away from the scene. On to the next hunt, before Skywalker gets the chance to take it from me.

Frankly, I have no clue how it started, his fixation with making me miserable. I almost feel paranoid, as if I’m making up the whole debacle. But from the way he looks at me, unspeaking, I know this truly is my reality. Anakin Skywalker hates me.

...

Now glaring at my reflection within the confines of my room, my restraint runs thin. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confront him because that sort of thing always goes well.

I head out towards the Jedi temple where Skywalker is most likely training his Padawan. While marching over, I contemplate the arguments I will bring up when face-to-face with him. How I will look into those comet-like eyes and not get distracted by his plump lips.

Moral of the story, I’m going to put an end to this one-sided game we play.

Once my vision connects with his broad back, his name escapes me without hesitation, “Anakin.” Saying it takes me by surprise, seeing as though I’ve never said it before. But clearly, it shocks him more, as when he turns around, his eyes are vaguely wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Y/n,” he says back flatly, face becoming neutral. Now I’m really taken aback by the way my name rolls off his tongue. Quickly, I collect myself and remember my well-thought-out points.

“What are you doing?” And out the window they go.

Anakin quirks his head quizzically. His silent reply to my rather stupid question ticks me off further. I’m practically vibrating with rage. “That was my mark you stole today Skywalker, you realize that?”

As if he’s finally understood my inarticulate speech, his lips part dumbly in “awe.” There he goes pushing my buttons, silently watching me unravel. “You think I wouldn’t notice?“ My face flushes red as I elaborate. “All the crooks you’ve miraculously caught are always the bounty that I’m after.”

There's a beat of silence where he inspects the way my chest heaves in exasperation. Then he speaks. “About time you did.” He states matter-of-factly. My jaw drops. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to notice,” he remarks with a bored look.

“Notice what?” I spit out, scowling at him.

“Me,” he finishes plainly. Silence engulfs us again and I take note of how close we’ve become. “Why would you want that?” I question, utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Anakin’s brows furrow.

“I mean you’ve never spoken to me before.”

“Neither have you.” He counters. My fists tremble.

“Why then? Why do you need me to notice you?” I demand.

“What other reason can there be?” He grumbles while giving me a once-over, and then something clicks. My face falls.

“Those looks you give me-”

“Say just how much I want you, more than words ever could.” He ends my sentence, his face remaining stoic. My heart hammers wildly. I suspect he’s now waiting for me to make a move, to say anything, maybe even reject him. Instead, I hastily circle my head around, surveilling for bystanders before frantically grasping at his robe and pushing him into a nearby room. His facade flatters once again and I see puzzlement consume his face.

After I awkwardly turn the door knob and take us into the empty room, I shove him away. Anakin staggers back, looking completely disoriented, almost regretful. “Y/n?” He trails off. My anger is radiating off my body, and I know he can feel it.

“You should’ve said something,” I assert, seething.

“I’m-“ Anakin is abruptly cut off by my lips smashing against his. With my arms reaching around his neck, I can feel his body freeze. After a short moment, I start to peel away, dejected by his stillness. But Anakin instantly chases after me, no longer shying away.

He gropes my waist, and one arm pulls around it, while the other slides up my spine to rest between my shoulder blades. A moan evades my throat and is met with a deep groan.

His palms carve out my figure and fist at my clothes. Whines rush out my mouth as his tongue mingles with mine. He vigorously makes work of me, and I have to pull away. Though his lips instinctively follow me, I’m out of reach, so he settles for my neck. Sucking fervently, one may fear the spots he’s making, but in this moment, truthfully, I couldn't care less.

“Ani,” I whimper, and he growls against my nape in response. “Fuck, I need you,” I whisper. I feel his movements lurch and he mumbles something, but I can't seem to hear it over my haggard breathing.

He tears himself away from my neck, still keeping my body pressed against his. He then shifts his gaze around the room. “There’s no furniture here, I’ll just have to fuck you standing.” An audible gasp flees my mouth as Anakin slings my body around his torso, legs straddling his hips. His hands clench around my thighs as he hoists me up, securing me in place.

Fortunately, the short gown I threw on this morning made it easy for Anakin's crotch to caress my core through his pants. I push down on him and he groans at our proximity. "I was wondering when you would snap," Anakin mutters into my ear as his grip tightens. I whimper. "Screw you."

"Be patient. You will." He soothes. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I drop my forehead to his shoulder as our lower halves grind against one another.

The sounds of our moans crowd the room and I can't take it anymore. "Kriff patience, I'm done waiting, General," I command in the most sensual voice I can muster. Evidently, my attempt to provoke him works because one of his hands leaves my thigh and clutches my hair in a fist, tugging my head back so his lips can crash into mine again. His other hand shifts down to his slacks. His breath hitches when he releases his cock, and so does mine when it springs up to my clothed clit. "Oh maker," I just about scream, head falling back.

His hands make quick work moving my underwear aside, and his member brushes against my folds. I shudder and screw my eyelids shut. I feel Anakin's gaze fixate on me. "Look at me." Hearing his order, I immediately obey.

Eyes fluttering open, I look into his lust-filled ones. Getting flustered by their heat, I squirm. "Y/n." He hushes, breath blowing across my face. Glancing at his features briefly, I nod, communicating what we both desperately need.

We both hold our breaths as he brings me down on his length in a slow glide. His cock pierces my entrance, and I clamp down on my incoming yelp. He was big. I hear him distractedly repeat my name, face buried in my collar. My eyes look to the ceiling in prayer.

His movements dissipate midway, and I feel his stomach clench. "You take me so well." He mumbles almost to himself. All I can do is bob my head in response. In this short pause, the pain disperses and all I feel is him - pleasure, darkness. His arms snake around my waist while mine harden around his nape.

Suddenly, he plunges into me, filling me up completely. My cry echoes throughout the room and I instantly sink my teeth into the cartilage of his ear. The growl that leaves him is next to primal. His rhythmic pounding begins to pick up speed, and I can barely keep up with each stroke. "Kiss me," he stammers out. Reeling back, I lock eyes with him before diving my tongue into his mouth.

His hips snap into my own, over and over. His stomach clenches once more and he pants into my mouth, "I'm close." Though I feel incredible, I'm not quite close to my limit, and he senses it.

One of his palms unravels from my body, steadily hovering over my center. Thinking he's going to touch me, I arch my back away from his embrace to allow space for his digits to meet my clit. But, as I wait, an unexpected pressure attacks my core. I gasp away from his lips and I peer down, leaning my forehead on his.

His hand isn't physically touching me, yet I feel as though I'm close to climaxing. Bewildered, I shoot my eyes from his floating hand to his lewd expression. His grin is strangely smug as he watches me. Then it registers: he's using the force to make me cum. Completely stunned, I simply bore my eyes into him, mouth agape.

Our orgasms come at once and wash over us at his charge. He puffs out a loud sigh of relief and continues to hold me, pumping slower than before, til the action ceases.

"Maker," I huff, "Next time, just use your words, and I'm yours." A smile forms on his face. He sheepishly nods, "Next time."

[inurnctdreams]

00:00 - l.dh

idol!haechan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex, pet names (baby, hyuckie)

wc: 0.7k

“happy birthday dear hyuckie, happy birthday to you!”

“hi baby, thank you.” donghyuck’s voice is quiet and slightly raspy. nothing you haven’t heard multiple times before, but not what you’d expected when you’d called your boyfriend at exactly midnight in his current time zone.

“did… did i wake you up?” you frown, and your voice must betray your disbelief if his cute little chuckles over the line are anything to go by.

“maybe, i fell asleep like twenty minutes after i ate dinner.”

“were the guys not with you?” you pout. you’d at least taken some comfort in the fact that he’s surrounded by the rest of the dreamies for the start of his birthday if you can’t be there.

“they’re here.” he says. “our intention was to stay up.”

“and you all fell asleep? that’s actually really fucking funny.” you can’t help the giggles that escape you at the thought of all seven of them crowding in one hotel room to see donghyuck’s birthday in, only to not make it to midnight.

“yeah, i guess we were all pretty tired.”

“wait, does that mean i still got to be the first person to say it?!” you say excitedly. it’s not yet his birthday where you are, but you’d be damned if you were gonna let a silly thing like time zones come between you and making sure your boyfriend started off his day showered in love, albeit virtual.

“uh-huh.” he smiles, leaving out the fact that he’d been planning on answering your call before anyone else could wish him happy birthday anyway. you’d been so cutely adamant that distance wouldn’t stop you from being the first. “i miss you so much.” you almost don’t hear the whisper. if you didn’t know him so well, you’d chalk the voice crack up to him only just waking up.

“i miss you too, baby. twenty-one hours.” you let yourselves sit with the bittersweet feeling for a moment. tears begin to form in your own eyes but you blink them away. “i cannot wait to give you your presents, i think i’ve outdone myself this year!”

“all i need is you.” he elongates the vowels in ‘you’, trying to match your cheery tone.

“ew, stop being so greasy! plus, you love presents and i’m still mad my master plan to have them sent to you was ruined.”

“management did have a point about the shipping time issues, plus this way you can see me open them properly.” he reasons. “i can’t wait to hug you again.”

“just hug me?” you smirk.

“this was supposed to be a cute, innocent birthday call, not phone sex!” he gasps dramatically, sending you both into another fit of giggles.

“okay, okay.” you relent. “i guess the whole point of birthday sex is to do it in person.”

“tease.”

“we did not need to hear that.” another voice chimes in, clearly muffled and far away.

“why are you even on the phone so late?” mark questions, sounding closer than jaemin had. “oh shit dude, happy birthday!”

“is it already midnight?” jisung’s voice is muffled, and then you hear rustling and yells for the other boys to wake up.

“i’ll let you go, have fun with the boys!” you smile.

“no!” hyuck immediately whines.

“it’s okay baby, have a good morning and let me know when you’re boarding and landing, yeah?”

“fine.” he sighs, and you can hear the pout in his voice. the mental image of him, bedhead and traces of sleep, has you mourning the fact that you can’t squish his cheeks or kiss his forehead. yet, you remind yourself. “i’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you as soon as i get back.”

“i’m holding you to that.” you smile, ignoring the fake gagging sounds in the background.

“get some rest too, i know you have work in the morning.”

“i’ll try.” you knew it would be difficult to settle your restless brain but he was right, you did have work, plus the stuff you’d planned for when he got home that you had managed to keep a surprise. “happy birthday, hyuckie. i love you.”

“i love you too.” you glance down at your phone when the call ends.

twenty-one hours.

[skrrts]

Heart Receipt (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x jung wooyoung ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, fluff, coffee shop, he has a crush on you ✧ word count: 1,8k

you never were one of those people with daydreams of running into a hot guy while working a job that was anything but romantic. if anything, you are quite comfortable with your single life and you definitenly have no interest in the one customer who always ends up flirting with you. that doesn't mean wooyoung is discouraged by your rejections so far, he just gets more creative.

a/n: just a small, random oneshot with woo trying to ask you out

During high school, you always failed to see the temptation of why meeting a guy at a coffee shop would be the great goal of romance. Why exactly would anyone want to date the person who likely knew their darkest secret when it came to the consumption of a liquid that could be deemed a drug of in its own right?

Now that you worked part-time in one of those shops, you found confirmation in questioning just why you thought this would be a great idea.

From the grumpy business woman who always lacked time in the morning and blamed you for the long row of customers ahead of her up to those teenagers who wasted ten minutes to try and figure out which drink would go best on TikTok today only to leave the beverage half full at a random corner for some other guest to kick it over by accident. Not to forget the brooders, who ordered the cheapest drink just to have an excuse to use the free wifi for several hours.

Sunday shifts were your favorite, just because there wasn’t a whole lot to do, not during Summer when people spent the time close to pools rather than giving into their coffee aesthetic needs or only bought a cup to leave right away, attempting social events you gladly missed out on.

“There he is again,” Mingi whispered, trying casually to put cups away and not stare but he was bad at it. If anything the newest addition to the coffee shop was a master in gaining attention and you felt whenever his shift was on, more girls were showing up just to giggle at him from the distance.

This guest, however, really was attention personified. From the bright burning red hair up to that outfit which always made others question how somebody could look so good while dealing with the heatwave outside.

He pushed the sunglasses up by the time he entered and his gaze was instantly on you. There had been a few encounters before, cheeky remarks, complimenting you although you tried really hard to look extra grumpy.

Why was that? Maybe because you had a hard time believing anyone would take an interest in a random person selling coffee. Maybe you worked those kinds of jobs too often, where nice people always turned out hoping to get a drink for free once you gave in. 

“You guys are so diligent, even working on Sundays,” he smiled, glancing from you to Mingi who was keener on interacting with the guy.

“Well, we get some replacement off days, so that’s fine. What brings you here on a Sunday?” While your co-worker wasn’t part of the staff for long enough to know that for certain, he wasn’t wrong. This guy was usually here on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which sadly were your usual shift days.

“Best friend just left with the love of his life for an endless road trip they did not want to bring me to,” he pouted a bit but then grinned when he saw your frowning reaction. He likely was wondering what it was that you always seemed a little grumpy around him. 

“Is there anything you would like to order today?” you asked professionally, already mentally preparing the order he always went for when he looked up, looking at the Summer menu: “Mh, I think, I will try one of those strawberry coffee shakes today. What’s your favorite?”

You lurked over to the menu: “I guess, I’m more of a basic iced coffee person.” You already were busy to start when he clapped his hands together: “Then, I will also take one of those.”

If not for Mingi happily accepting his phone payment and you being busy to make the order, you’d likely question it. Well, if anything you should have known.

By the time you were done, the redhead took a seat in the corner, although the coffee shop was practically empty, the few guests who decided to stay were bold, sitting outdoors in the hot sun. 

“Here you go,” you placed them on the table, offering the usual polite bow and meant to flee back, maybe enjoy a few free minutes when he cleared his thought.

“I don’t think I manage to drink both. Maybe you’d like the iced americano?” His voice was playful when you turned around and realized that had been his intention all along.

“I do not really drink coffee with random guests,” you declined.

“I am Jung Wooyoung, in the last steps to receive my Bachelor of Science in Health and Fitness and I think you are cute, so I hoped maybe, you’d not mind having a coffee with me.”

Now, this was straightforward considering he had been coming here for weeks now. You heard Mingi giggle somewhere in the background as he innocently put clean cups back into the cupboard. 

So what to do? A hot guy asked you to have a coffee with him while being clocked in and you literally acted like the grumpy barista for weeks. Looking at Wooyoung, you’d not even be surprised if it was more encouraging to him.

For a moment, you stood there, fingers holding the tray a little too tightly and maybe, he could read your mind.

He was turned around to face you properly, his playful demeanor softened and he placed the sunglasses aside. “I promise, the interest is sincere. Honestly, this is the first time I am trying something like that… I usually just flirt a little and then people react or not, but you were really professional. I kind of liked it, so I came more often and well, it’s true, I almost know nothing about you but I watched you a little, so I thought maybe, we could… get to know each other a little better.”

There was a hint of red on your cheeks considering his honest confession and for a moment you hesitated before pulling the second chair back and sat down.

“I… most flirty customers do so hoping to get something in return, so I was a little … reserved,” you admitted and he chuckled.

“Oh, I can imagine that. Y/N… is it okay if I call you by your name?”

You offered him a small nod and picked up the cold coffee, sipping on it.

Wooyoung smiled brightly, doing the same with his as he looked at it: “Oh, this is pretty good! I should have tried it sooner.”

You were amazed how quick he could change, from casual to flirty, and now, almost cutely excited about such a simple thing as a drink. 

“It’s a classic at this café, we bring it back every summer, well it is what they say anyway. I only have worked here for about a year now. I’m also currently wrapping up my degree if you want to know,” you admitted and mumbled something about what exactly you were doing.

His face brightened up: “That sounds really cool!”

Your fingers curled around the cool glass, trying to keep your hands busy as he spoke so openly that you suddenly felt too shy to speak more about yourself.

“So, you said your best friend went on a Road Trip?”

Wooyoung seemed excited that you paid attention to what he said, nodding: “Yup, he is one of those guys who met this perfect girl during high school and I’d not be surprised if he’s getting married before he is 30 and they will have a little house on the beach with a dog, a sassy cat, and two kids.”

While he smiled as he told you about this friend, there was a small, short moment of sadness reflecting in his eyes. You could imagine it was difficult with your best friend suddenly gone.

“Sounds like you are not one of those house and dog people,” you tried to sound playful and it seemed to be a success.

This time, he looked at you curiously like it was your sign of interest in him: “Admittingly, I’d just like to find somebody who’s relaxed and in no rush. Right now, I just want to graduate and then slowly get the hang of things. You know, figure it out as we go but I can be a little restless, having somebody tugging on my jacket, scolding me to think would be nice.. I mean, I also would give plenty back! Do my best!”

“Sounds like you,” Mingi suddenly called out behind the counter and you turned around, glaring at him.

“Excuse me?”

The barista laughed: “Just saying, you are more of a down-to-earth, focusing on all one by one.” 

You muttered something when you turned around and held back a gasp because, Wooyoung was leaning forward now, chin resting against entwined fingers.

“Personally, I think it’s quite appealing,” he smiled cutely and you rubbed over your cheek again.

“Ah, I mean… you know,” you mumbled, uncertain what to say. 

“I think you are very pretty and I like you aren’t so easy to impress. I will do my best and show you that as chaotic as I am, there is more to me if you let me?” he promised and finished his drink. 

This was so strange, what were you supposed to do? You took a final sip from your coffee before chewing your lip, pulling out your phone, opening the contact option and shyly moving it over to him. 

“Well, I actually have next weekend off and they said it won’t be so hot anymore,” you mumbled and Wooyoung seemed excited. He took the phone and typed in his number, saving his contact with his name and a cat with a heart. Okay, that was cute.

“Text me any time, I promise I will get back to you quickly unless I’m stuck in a lecture or at work.”

The smartphone was handed back and you slowly stood up as new customers just arrived: “I’d like that.”

Fuck it, let’s try being a cliche coffee shop loser then.

“Looking forward to it then,” he smiled and you gave him a hesitant smile back before returning to the counter to help Mingi with the orders. Wooyoung waved cutely at you when he left a few minutes later and you had to dodge the knowing grins of the other barista.

When you were done and moved over to clean up the place Wooyoung and you were sitting earlier, you noticed he drew little hearts on the receipt, saying “Excited to meet you soon. xoxo, Woo.” 

He really was a bold one, you glanced over your shoulder, making sure Mingi was busy before hiding the receipt in your pocket and pulling out the phone.

text to Wooyoung🐈❤️: Grumpy Barista here text to Wooyoung🐈❤️: How about Saturday, 07:00 PM at the cinema bar?

It only took a second for your phone to buzz in your hands

text from Wooyoung🐈❤️: looking forward to seeing you there 😘

Ah you certainly got yourself into something now.

[eyesxxyou]

Cybersex

★‧₊˚ 💋⋅ hobie brown x camgirl!reader

rating. m

word count. 4k

synopsis. after a scandal, hobie decides he needs a change in his career. that's where you come in, a camgirl he plans to make a sextape with.

🍓・．❕warnings. mentions of cocaine usage, recording sex, p in v sex, protected sex heavily advised, oral (f & m receiving), doggy style, hair pulling, spitting, dirty talking, ass slapping, ass grabbing, degrading praise, condom taken off

Hobie really fucked up according to his manager. If you asked him, he did nothing wrong. It was perfectly normal for a rockstar to be doing coke in the bathroom of a venue in his opinion but for some reason it had caused a lot of controversy. It’s not like he was addicted or anything, that time being only the second time he’s ever done it but his manager put out a statement that he would be taking a break from his tour in order to attend rehab. Which he did and it sucked. He was in for 2 months, “working on himself” supposedly.

“Why’d ya do it?” His manager asked him as they sat side by side in the back of his car, his driver taking him home from rehab after 2 of the longest months of his life. “I mean– you have all anyone could ever want. So why?”

It was such a stupid question that deserved the half-assed answer Hobie gave. He just shrugged and grunted. Why did he do it? To escape this fad of a life. This was never what he wanted, all of this. This expensive car, a designated driver, a manager. This was never what he fucking wanted. Somehow, in his pursuit for success, he lost everything that made him who he was, lost his initial values. He was nothing but a poser now.

He was done being a poser. He’d get back to his original self somehow, some way.

So the moment they got back to his boat, Hobie fired his manager as well as his chauffeur. “Take the car wit’cha.” It was the best decision he could have made for himself, for his dwindling career. He had to get back to his roots, just him making music on his boat with his guitar and his mates.

He needed something to reignite his career, to appeal to the crowd who once supported him for being a voice against authority and establishment. The coke incident had riled people up, weeded out the posers from the real deal. He needed something more.

That’s where you came in.

“So you need my help to get your career back on track…how exactly? By having sex with me?” You sat across from Hobie inside a bar you two agreed to meet at. You were a pretty girl, gorgeous actually, with make up that told him “I put in effort, just not for this” and a pretty, delicate, white dress, black shawl, platform, leather boots, and a long rosary around your neck, though something told him you weren’t catholic. It could be the extensive history of porn you have online.

You were a camgirl. And he was a fan. Turns out, you were a fan of his too.

Hobie bought you a drink and a couple shots for you to share. You teased a cherry between your faded glossed lips and used your tongue to tie the stem into a knot. He liked you, liked you a lot. You were perfect for the job.

“By leakin’ mw own sex tape.” Hobie corrected you. “‘M jus’ tryna stir the pot. Drum up some interest, y’know?” You of all people would know better than the rest. Your entire career was built on this. You were a master at it. He was right to come to you.

“Bu’, Ion wan ya to think ya haf’ to. The offer’s on the table.”

“I know I don’ have to do anything.” He liked your attitude, the twang of your accent in your pretty voice. He understood why you had so many fans, you were borderline perfect, pretty lips, pretty eyes. He’s watched some of your videos, with partners and alone, you’re so captivating. He was an instant fan. “I just want to make sure I understand before I agree to anything.”

You leaned in with your chin resting upon your hand with your elbow on the splintering wood of the bar counter. “I’ll do it, just ‘cause I think you’re pretty.” You stood up, even while sitting down, his abnormally tall body towered over your. “I’ve got rules though, strict rules, not even a pretty boy like you can pass them.” Your hands were on his thighs as you looked up at him. He could kiss you now if he wanted to, but he waited to hear these rules of yours.

“You have to use a condom.”

“Done, already got one.” Hobie assured you. He always carried one with him just in case.

You chuckled a bit, “Good for you. We also have to do it at a hotel, you pay. I don’t wanna be at your place and I don’t want you at mine.” Hobie also liked how serious you were, how you didn’t play about your business. He appreciated it, found it a little hot too. How in the world was he supposed to keep his hands off of you until then? “FIne by me.”

“FInally, no catching feelings.”

Hobie began to laugh, a snarky grin growing across his full, pierced lips. “Confident, are ya? You don’ haf’ta worry about nothin’ like tha’, luv. I’m just attracted to you.” He reached out and pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. He leaned in close, his breath fanning your lips until he touched his lips with yours and kissed you softly. You didn’t kiss him back.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, Brown but I’m not with it. Text me the details when you get them.” You pulled away from him with a scoff and tapped his cheek softly with your hand before grabbing a shot, tossing it back down your throat before walking off to take your leave.

Hobie set everything up for the following week, a nice hotel where the two of you could hook up for the night and leave it at that. It didn’t have to be anything more. Hobie was out to jumpstart his career while you were in it for the followers you would gain from all of this. It didn’t have to be anything more than just this.

“Hobie, open the damn door, I’m not waiting out here all night!” Your fist met the door for the third time since you’ve been standing here. You were just about ready to leave when the door finally swung open and Hobie was standing there without the slightest look of apology on his face. “Sorry, luv. Come on in.”

You waltzed in past him, wearing a black dress, black, distressed stockings that clipped onto a garter around your thighs, thick, mary jane shoes, and a leopard print, fur jacket that all fit together with your locs tied into a ponytail with hair clips that matched your coat. Your lips were full and glossy, eyes framed in dark makeup that made your gaze all the more mysterious. You were adorned in hanging necklaces and large rings, the prettiest person he’s ever seen. “Nice setup. We just recording on your phone?” There was no camera but you supposed that it wouldn’t be that believable of a leaked sex tape if it was on a professional camera. You two weren’t exactly Kim K and Ray J.

“Unless you brought a camera.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You waved your hand and set down your bag before beginning to remove your jewelry and set them down on the bedside table with a small ‘clack’. “Pretty ingenious idea you got here. How’d you come up with it?” You began to remove your necklaces one by one and placed them beside your rings, glancing over at Hobie who sat on the bed beside you.

“I was horny and tired, luv. Le’s cut the small talk ‘n get on wit’ i’, yeah?” Hobie reached out for you, pulling you in between his legs while holding the slope of your waist, stroking and caressing until his hands slid down your thighs then by up under your dress. There was nothing but your panties, small and lacy.

Your lips curled into a smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.” You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs as you pressed your lips to his. It was a curt matter, a nicety you offered him. There was passion but nothing behind it except lust, feverish, violent, tearing lust that had you rolling your body against his and your pussy pressed against the growing bulge in his pants.

Hobie placed his hands on the underside of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs automatically coming around his narrow waist. He held you with a surprising amount of strength for someone so lean. He pushed you up against the wall, your hands pulling at each other's clothes in a fervorous attempt to get the other naked. He tore your stockings while you pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side. He helped you remove your shoes between kisses and you helped him remove his.

Hobie licked down your body, the warm, smooth skin of your naval all the way down to the waistband of your thong where he kissed and licked, his hands grabbing at his pockets to find his phone before handing it off to you so you could record.

You gazed at him through the camera, moaning softly as he pulled down your underwear and you stepped out of them. You lifted one leg over his shoulder, soon followed by the other, your entire weight supported against the wall, your pussy on display for him to devour with his eyes and soon, his tongue.

You were already wet, your lips nice and slick, your pretty cunt slightly gaping and ready to be filled. Hobie licked his lips and looked up at you, nodding to signal you to start recording. You kept a firm grip on his phone with one hand while your other grasped at the hair closest to his scalp. You pulled him in, forced his lips to kiss your cunt, to praise and worship.

You tasted like fruits and berries as he dipped his tongue between the gates of heaven and teased at your cunt with the warmth of his tongue teasing at the underside of your clit. His fingers played in your creamy juices, coating them before he eased a single digit into your aching hole.

“Ah~ fuck– Hobie. Mmh.” You ground your hips against his face, the friction of his hot tongue and long finger drove you crazy. You bit your lip, made sure the camera was on him, and pulled him in further. “Add another finger.” It was a plea for kindness, you needed another finger or you’d go crazy. His tongue worked you in a way you had never experience before, it was fluid yet stiff and so precise against your swollen bud. His lips latched and suckled and his tongue swirled.

Hobie eased another finger into your cunt inch by inch, curling in search of the soft ridge that would send you into ecstasy. He spat on your pussy, ate it with the eagerness of a starved dog while looking up at the camera with those pretty, deep-set eyes of his.

You cried out for him,“God, Hobie– pl–ease.” He slid his tongue into your cunt with his fingers, stretching you just a little further while the bulb of his nose nudged your clit. You would have collapsed then and there if not for the fact he was the only thing holding you up, on his knees with his face in your pussy, devouring.

“Ya gonna cum fa me, luv?” Hobie spoke against your core, making you thrash and moan his name in something of a pornographic sound of pleasure. You reacted to every flick of his tongue, your back arching from the wall and your pussy aching, pulsing, squeezing around his fingers that have finally found your sweet stop and is now playing it like a fiddle.

Your grasp on the phone became shaky as your orgasm threatened to grasp you and hold you in a grip so tight you’d cease to breathe. Never before have you come upon your climax so quickly. Hobie was skilled at this. He’s made more people come with just his mouth and fingers than he can count on said fingers. He left them bleary-eyed and pleading for more, all of them dreaming of just another chance with him.

“Hobie, Hobie, Hobiehobiehobie.” His name was on your lips like a prayer to a god who did not exist in this room. Hobie had the face of angel but the mouth of a demon and how much you praised whatever high power above for it.

He chuckled against your pussy as you gasped, all your muscles tensing then relaxing at once, an orgasm seizing your body like a demonic possession. You held his face against your core and let him taste the product of his work. You worked hard to make sure you tasted good for your partners and Hobie appreciated it, adored it.

He slipped his fingers from your cunt and lapped at the creamy juices you excreted in the midst of your orgasm. Hobie moaned at the taste of you on his tongue, licked you clean until the taste of you stained his tongue. He smiled up at the camera with his wet lips and grabbed it from you, pausing the video before helping you down from his shoulders.

His hands were on your waist again, pulling you into his body before kissing you again. He forced his tongue against yours, sliding and lapping, caressing every portion of yoru mouth he could reach. You could taste yourself in him, your cum still wet on his tongue. You liked it, you liked the taste of his mouth and you intermingled.

Your hands soothed over the sides of his face, one sliding behind his neck to pull him closer while his large, slender hands grasped handfuls of your ass. He was so much bigger than you, so much taller, he was so easily able to toss you onto the bed. You landed on your stomach, looking back at him as he removed the rest of his clothing and remained just as naked as you were.

God, his cock was so fucking beautiful. It was perfectly fitting, nice and long with a good amount of girth but not two much and a few veins here and there. The tip weeped with precum, begging to sink into a nice, tight, warm hole, preferably yours. Your pussy fluttered at the sight of it, at the way he came over and forced you face down ass up with him kneeling behind you.

Hobie rubbed his length against your ass, his precum smearing against your pussy every time his tip teased against your entrance.

"Condom." You reminded him firmly, pulling away from him until he complied. You'd get up and leave right now if he didn't abide by your rules.

Hobie got up and searched through his discarded pants for his the condom he made sure to bring with him. Once he found it, he tore it open and placed it against the tip, rolling it down the length of his dick until he reached the base of his cock.

He took up his phone and began to record again as you whined and pushed your hips back, begging for him to fill you up and finish you out. You spread your legs wider, arched your back, anything to entice him to fuck you the way you needed.

"Aww, the pretty slut wan's my cock." Hobie brought his free hand back and spanked your ass with a sharp swing of his hand as it met the flesh of your behind. He ran a soothing hand against the burning mark he left. "Go 'head 'n beg fo i' then."

Your pride wouldn't let you, your lips remained sealed but they parted with another slap to your ass. You gasped again and whimpered out something pathetic as your ass ached in pain and your back arched. "Please."

"Say i' louda fo tha' camera, luv."

"Please fuck me, Hobie."

He scoffed and chuckled behind you, lining up his tip and easing it into your wonton cunt. "I knew you wan'ed me to slut ya pretty pussy out." You let out something of a squeal as he sunk into your hole, his cock stretching out your walls unused for months now. You were tight, your pussy lips parted to accommodate his size. Hobie let out a hiss then a moan of pleasure, his hand grasped at your hip and ass almost to assure himself you were real. "Fuck, doll. Oh my– shit."

He wished he could feel you, just skin to skin, flesh to flesh, your silky, wet walls against his bare cock. He might have came right then and there if not for the condom as a slight barrier keeping his from absolute euphoria.

Hobie fucked you like it was the end of the world, pounding, borderline abusing your poor pussy all while you squealed and moaned and choked beneath him. Yours hands grasps at the sheets, neatly made by maids who had no clue what their hard work would later be used for.

Hobie recorded it, the way his cock dove into your pussy like he'd die if he didn't fuck you with everything he had. His dick touched places you weren't even sure existed within you, caressed parts that haven't been touched in many, many years. It's been a long time since you've had a good, thorough dicking down and you had forgotten how good it felt.

"Right there! Please…Hobie, please!" You moaned into the pillow beneath you. Cohesive sentences evaded you, all you could think about was how his cock was stirring your guts and how you didn't mind at all.

Clapping filled the room, the sticking of skin to skin from sweat and slick made it hard to distinguish where you ended and he began. It ran down your thighs, your arousal, the way he pushed it out of you and smeared it along your inner thighs and the base of his cock.

Hobie was obsessed with the way your ass jiggled against his hips, the way your back arched, how you seemed to be fucking him back with each other this thrusts, meeting him in the middle. Your makeup was smeared against the pillow, messy against your eyes and lips as you turned your head to the side to look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

Now he understood why you had that last rule. A pussy like this could make him catch feelings. It was so tight and creamy and good god, the way you moved was so perfect. He was losing breath, losing sanity.

Hobie grabbed you by the hair and pulled you up to hear your moans better, your neck craned back. He leaned over and pressed his body into yours. "Say hi, dove." He put the camera in your face, only to see you all fucked out and drooling. You could only whimper, your gaze meeting the camera with teary eyes before closing. "Fuuuck." You cried you as he sat back up, his hand readjusting his grip on your hair, and fucked you harder.

"Yah makin' me lose it, luv." Hobie let out a huff. His hand grabbing the round of your ass and squeezing the meat there before sliding up to the small of your waist where his hand settled so he could pull you back on his cock. “Go ‘head ‘n take wha’ ya wan’, pretty slut.” He paused his hips, let you do all the fucking since you were such a pro. “Put on a good show.” He adjusted his hold on his phone camera and watched through the screen as your spread your legs a little further and pushed yourself back onto his length.

You started with just the tip first, just playing with that before taking the whole of his length. You were a professional at this. Looking back, biting your lip, working his cock like it was your last night alive. His mouth fell open with a moan, pussy so tight Hobie was scared the condom was gonna come off.

Hobie shuddered with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Jus’ like tha’, doll. ‘M so close.” He let out in a breathless moan. He watched your greedy cunt take him fully, down to the hilt, the grip of your walls sending him overboard.

"Take off the condom, cum on my ass. It'll look good for the camera." You were a pro at this. You knew what got the most clicks and a cumshot on the ass was only second best to a creampie. Hobie held no objections as he pulled off the condom quickly and wrapped his hand around his member to jerk himself off.

It didn't take much. Hobie muttered incoherently under his breath profanities and obscenities as he came hard. His balls tightened as he came against the round of your ass. "Fuck!" He barked and squeezed out all he had to give, coating your plush flesh in white, dripping in wet globs down your trembling thighs.

You rocked back and forth against his cock, milking him for everything he was worth, another ribbon came and dribbled down the slope of your back. There was just so much, nice and creamy, all over you. The fans would eat this up.

You stretched out much like a cat, even purred a little as you groaned and looked back at him, a little dazed, completely starstruck. He stopped the recording and put down his phone in the middle of the bed. His hands grasped your waist as he bent over you and began to kiss down the slope of your back, his gorgeous lips peppering butterfly kisses against your shoulder blades.

"What did I tell you, Hobie? No feelings."

"Nothin' felt, jus' needed to appreciate ya a little. Lemme clean ya up." Hobie gave you one more firm slap to your ass. He went to go grab one of the fancy, white washcloths hanging in the bathroom to clean you up with. He wet it, wrung it out, and came back to run it down your back in long, gentle strokes, folded it over, then got the rest of your behind.

“I guess I should return the favor, huh?” You said, getting up, sitting down before his kneeling figure. His cock was still half hard and dripping wet with the remnants of your juices and his cum. You look up at him with those eyes that could make a person fall in love, biting your lip to hide a smirk as you wrapped a hand around him to guide his cock into your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him and lavish your tongue across the expanse of his member. He was so sensitive, shivering as your tongue passed over the salty tip. “Fuck, doll. You’re a masta’piece.” He stroked the side of your jaw with the tips of his fingers before reaching for his phone to record a little more.

He recorded you lazily sucking him off, the outline of his cock inside your cheek. The sink there was so soft, so wet, so good. “Look a’ the camera, luv.” He lightly slapped your cheek when you averted your gaze. You looked up at the camera, sloppily sucking before hollowing out your cheek and letting him go. It was a bit of a power play.

“Nice and clean, no?”

“You’re such a tease.”

You watched the video back when Hobie posted it a few days later, smiling as you bit your nails and watched the shaky, unprofessional camera work. It looked pretty authentic, just two people fucking and the video getting purposely "leaked" by him. It worked perfectly. Hobie was slowly returning back to his controversial, anti-establishment roots and your account was swarming with new followers.

As you watched, Hobie's contact popped up as a drop down notification at the top of your screen.

Wanna do it again?

[kaliforniahigh]

https://www.tumblr.com/kaliforniahigh/756103606724378624/nsfw-under-the-cut-read-at-your-own-risk-so-i?source=share

What a tease 🥵

I'm gonna need a short story about each version of Noah. Please? 🥹

We can start with type number one, shall we? Moustache!Noah and PussyMaster!Noah below!!!

Warnings: smoking pot (I know he doesn't smoke anymore), smut, they talk about sex, spit kink.

Not proofread!

He asks you to come over for the night, tells you to pack an overnight bag and that he would be picking you up in an hour. After that, he takes you to a weed dispensary so you can choose whatever you're going to be smoking for the night.

You always found these nights with Noah to be incredibly fun and insightful. You guys talked about whatever, watched some anime or a movie and ordered his preferred take out. It was always like this, you pick the weed, he picks the food.

These past couple of weeks though, you've felt a shift in your dynamic. You found yourselves talking about more personal and intimate matters. Like how you liked things and past flings and relationships. Like right now, you were sitting on his couch, passing a blunt back and forth.

"I don't think I could ever call a man daddy in bed, honestly", you said as you took a puff and passed it to him.

"I'm glad you said that, because one time a girl called me daddy and I swear my dick stopped working for a minute"

"Well, what did you do? Did you tell her? I feel like she would've noticed that you didn't like it though", you wondered, you could feel the second-hand embarrassment for this girl you didn't even know.

"No, I didn't tell her, but I could tell she noticed by the way she never texted me after that time", you covered your face and laughed at this, leaning your head on the back of the couch. "Yeah, laugh it up at my misery. You gonna tell me something like this never happened to you?"

"I mean, yeah, but I rather laugh at you than at me", he lightly slapped your arm but laughed along with you, "c'mon, you're hogging the blunt, don't be one of those people"

"I will pass it to you if you tell me one of your embarrassing stories", he looked at you with a side eye, but you relented.

"Ok, so one time there was this guy who though he was really good at, you know", you made a general motion to your crotch area, but he gave you a questioning look.

"No, I don't know, you'll have to be more specific", you groaned, suddenly feeling shy about this.

"He thought he was really good at eating pussy"

"Ooooh, I see. I like where this is going", he said with a teasing tone.

"Yeah, I bet you do. Anyway, he thought he was really good, but his tongue was just so stiff and his fingers kept missing my clit. So after ten minutes of this I had to fake an orgasm to pull him out of his misery. Thing is, the moan I let out was totally fake I felt like it was so obvious", this time was his turn to laugh, finally passing the blunt to you.

"I mean, the man coudn't make you cum, I feel like he deserved it". he said, matter-of-factly "if it was up to me, no woman would ever fake an orgasm in her life"

"Oh, ok, pussy master, don't tell me you made every woman you've ever been with cum with just your mouth and fingers", maybe it was because you always had subpar experiences with guys, but you felt like this was a far-fetched ideia. No one is ever this good at eating pussy.

He laughed at the nickname, but replied "I never had complaints, besides, I'm pretty sure I was born for this, it's pretty much a talent"

"Well, then I need to find someone with this kind of talent", he sensed the resignation on your voice, and he couldn't help the words that fell out of his mouth next.

"Well, I'm right here. Wouldn't exactly have to look", you looked at him with suspicion, but he looked at you with a stare that told you he was sure about this, you just had to tell him you want it too.

"Ok, let's say we were to do this, how would we even began?", he asked for the blunt that was on your hands and put it out on the ashtray beside him.

"You can start by getting on my lap", he followed his words with a spread of his legs, you complied and asked "what next?"

He grabbed the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together. "You're sure about this? You're not going along just because I suggested it, right?", he could tell he was sincere, and if you weren't already turned on just by sitting on his lap, this would've done the trick.

"Oh, no, I really wanna find out more about this talent of yours", as soon as you said this, his lips were on yours, it started chaste but it soon turned heated, his tongue slipping into your mouth and devouring you.

One of his hands started to make their way over your body, along the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, finally settling on the place you wanted him the most.

He started with gentle movements, circling you over your sweatpants. You separated your mouths just to let out a silent moan, your mouth forming an "O" shape. You could feel him staring at you intensely.

After a few minutes of this, you started to move your hips, urging him to pick up his pace. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist, laying you down on the couch and removing your pants and underwear in a hurry.

You didn't have to ask him to do anything, didn't have to tell him where to put his mouth or how fast or slow you wanted it. He seemed to now just how you liked it. You could hear the sounds of his mouth on you, an indicator of how wet you were.

That is why it took you by surprise when he replaced his mouth with his fingers, and from a distance, you saw a string of spit, coming out of his mouth and landing right on your pussy, you eyes locking with his, he gave a lopsided smirk, obviously knowing the affect he had on you. The sight alone made you moan out loud, your pleasure intensifying by a thousand.

He kept working his fingers, mixing his spit with your arousal. He could tell you were close as he put his mouth back on you. Not long after, you felt the dam break, pleasure and relief wasing over you as your thighs shook and you couldn't contain the sound spilling from your mouth.

He didn't stop until you physically pushed his head away, moving up your body, he grabbed your chin with one of his hands, "open your mouth, baby girl", you did as you were told, putting your tongue out to catch the string of saliva leaving his lips. You could taste him and yourself together and that turned you right back on.

"So, what is your feedback?", he asked you, already knowing your answer, by the smug look on his face.

"I'm gonna put together a pussy master certificate for you", you joked, patting him on the back. He let out an amused laugh, but laid with you on the couch, lazily stroking your hair as you caught your breath.

oof!!!! is it hot in here or is it just me???

would you guys be interested in Noah type one and two? (if you don't know I'm referring to this post)

Dividers: @cafekitsune

[captainfantasticalright]

Another Sir Terry Pratchett interview on the details of writing Good Omens with Neil Gaiman. (More about this process x).

Question about how he goes about collaborating with someone else .

Terry: “You make them do what you want”.

Gary Cornell came up with something very apposite talking about working together, he says : It’s not that (each) of you does 50% of the work, each of you does 90% of the work.

Um. The way we did it then, and I can’t really speak as an expert because it's the only time I’ve ever done it and other people do it in different ways, it wasn’t a case of, the way the Americans tend to do it, um, is one person writes a draft and the other person goes in and noodles with that draft. We did the whole thing from the ground up; each was doing bits. The ad hoc way we had of working, it’s simple: I’ve got a track record writing novels, Neil hadn’t. So I became like the editor, the taskmaster. Because the other thing is the practical problem about two people 120 miles apart doing something, is that, um, it would be different now, but in those days we had no reliable means of electronic communication. We could connect computers together with modems and then spend the whole evening at cross purpose and ringing each other up and saying “I’m getting lots of little faces and shit like that all over..”

Three quarters of an hour and about eight phone calls, you actually managed to transmit about 2000 words you could have actually phoned and sneezed in a morse code.

[w]hen we were doing the first draft of the film script, we were both members of CompuServe so crappy our BT rural lines that the quick efficient way was for me to go into CompuServe and leave the work I’d done in Neil’s mailbox on the computer in Ohio or someplace and later that evening he would dial CompuServe in America and download it from Ohio or wherever it was.

So in order to get the script 120 miles, electronically it was doing about 10000. This is from the global village.

What we would do is I would hold the master copy and sometimes work would have to stop for 24 hours because stuff was in the post, because the nightmare, the absolute nightmare which I knew would happen if we let it, was that somehow we’d end up with two master copies in existence with little, minute changes, and we’d never be able to spot which was which.

So the last thing we wanted was two master copies, and we worked on the phone who did what. I did a bit more than Neil, of that anyway. But, it also felt to me to be an awful lot of the glue that no one wanted to do because it was easy to do set piece scenes and written on a kind of, on the kind of plot somewhere you get A and B to F and X and Y across to C T. And that really is like 3000 words where you have to move people around and then,you know, shove extra bits in; so I ended up probably doing near 75% of the book.

I would probably say because it’s, because had we’ve done it any other way it would’ve been like three months longer to do.

Also part of the process from another interview with Terry Pratchett:

Q: Let's talk a bit about the book you collaborated with Neil Gaiman on: Good Omens. That was before email, so how did it work on a practical basis? What was the most challenging aspect of writing with someone else?

I'm sure what I have to say will echo what Neil has said. When two people work on a book, it isn't a case where each one does 50% of the work. Each one does 100% of the work. There are some bits in Good Omens which I know are mine. There are some bits in Good Omens which I know are Neil's. There are some bits which were Neil's idea which I wrote, and there are some bits which were my idea which Neil wrote. Some bits we no longer know exactly whose ideas they were, or who wrote them. By the time we'd gone through all the drafts, it had been written by some sort of composite entity. We wrote it in the 14th century. We each had one phone line and a 1200 baud modem. We'd work it out: "OK, you send, I'll receive." Sometimes it would take 20 minutes to half an hour before we could send the stuff. It would have been cheaper and easier to have rung each other up and sneezed out the text in Morse Code. I was the Keeper of the Disks. I insisted that there should only be one official version in existence at any time. The moment it split into two, we would be in dead trouble. But Neil would sometimes send me a disk with 2000 words, saying " This is the scene with so and so -- insert it here." It more or less worked. It took us about six weeks to do the first draft. I think it worked because, at the time, we were each making a name for ourselves in our respective fields. It's not that we didn't take it seriously. But we were relaxed. We thought we would earn some holiday money by doing it. The nice thing about collaborating is that there is one other person in the world who is thinking about the exact same thing that you are thinking about. We both have a similar reading background, I suppose. It was quite rare when one of us came up with something that the other guy didn't know about. So we could bounce ideas off one another quite easily.

[kindaasrikal]

Exploring the stupidity of the fact that Morro and Garmadon are stuck in the departed realm together, part 2:

Part 1 - Part 3

Garmadon: Alright Morro, let’s at least try and get to know each other.

Morro: what do you not get, Garmadon? I don’t WANT to know anything about you, or your pathetic life.

Garmadon: Well, if only you had a choice in the matter.

Morro: *tied to a tree after coming across a wild Garmageddon*…i demand a rematch.

Garmadon: Sure!

Morro:…really?-

Garmadon: After we get to know each other, of course!

Morro: i demand freedom.

Garmadon: Uhuh. *pulls out a stack of papers* By any chance, have you ever heard of 21 questions? It’s quite an entertaining game Lloyd introduced to me. *he says with a nostalgic smile*

Morro: yeah, that brat tried playing it with me when i took away his free will.

Garmadon:…You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?

Morro: no sh-mmph!

Garmadon: *covers Morro’s mouth, who is now wriggling around like a trapped chicken* Enough of that. Now let’s see…*he flicks through some of the papers* ah ha!

Garmadon: My first question, child, shall be finding out your most favourite colour!

Morro:

Garmadon:

Morro:

Garmadon:…I see that was a foolish question to ask, so let us move to a different one-

Morro: ifti pifksbsv

Garmadon: What?

Morro: *glares at Garmadon*

Garmadon: Ah, right. *removes his hand* what is it that you said?

Morro: it’s pink.

Garmadon: Huh.

Morro: pink. Thats my favourite colour.

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Hm

Morro: shut up.

Garmadon: I didn’t say a word.

Morro: i can see your face, you old fart.

Garmadon: Well, is it my fault green seemed more likelier than pink?

Morro: don’t ever say i like green. That colour disgusts me.

Garmadon:…Is it because-

Morro: your son’s eyes only made the disgust worse, not create it.

Garmadon: Aren’t you a sweet one, child.

Garmadon: Morro.

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro?

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro, now is not the time to ignore me.

Morro:

Garmadon: Are you really going to act so childish, simply because I had made you call me uncle once?

Morro:

Garmadon: Child.

Morro:

Garmadon: Nephew.

Morro: *a slight twitch has occurred.*

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon: Morro Wu, stop ignoring me this insta-

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Now, I highly doubt throwing the top of a mountain at me will help.

Morro: you know, i always wanted to ask you or Sensei this.

Garmadon: *sitting in a meditative position* Hm?

Morro: why’d the First spinjitzu master name you Garmadon Garmadon?

Garmadon:…My meditation can wait, excuse me???

Morro: i mean, seriously, Garmadon Garmadon sounds ridiculous. No wonder you turned evil, i would too if i was given such a dumb name. Not to mention, where the heck did he even get the name Garmadon from? Like, i understand Wu, that one makes sense, but Garmadon? It sounds like the name of some weird species of animals thats only just been discovered or something.

Garmadon: Pot, meet kettle.

Morro: what

Garmadon: Nothing. Now, why exactly do you think my name is Garmadon Garmadon?

Morro: uh, your son? His last name is Garmadon?

Garmadon: Do you mean Lloyd?

Morro: what, do you have a secret son hidden away or something?? Yes, the Green Ninja!

Garmadon:….Child, why exactly do you think I call you Morro Wu, instead of Morro Garmadon?

Morro: cause your name’s ugly?

Garmadon: You really are your father’s son.

Morro: wu is nOT MY FATHER-

Morro: why are you so old.

Garmadon: What-

Morro: but not bald?

Garmadon: *baffled* Just because I am old, does not mean I would go bald, Morro.

Morro: but…

Garmadon: Hm?

Morro: Wu is bald, and he’s younger then you, why do you have hair???

Garmadon:

Morro:

Morro: Oh my GOD. YOU WEAR A WIG???

Garmadon: NO I DO NOT STOP SCREAMING-

Yeah thats all i got, rlly long ones that im not even sure are good but i find them funny and i have school work so maybe thats effecting my humour atm :(

Anyways i love the Morro and Garmadon duo and if you havent heard in my last few posts i gave them a duo name. Heres more of the Tempest duo!

[1-xo-xo-xo-7]

[Damian, recently drugged by Scarecrow's gas -NOT FEARGAS- but JUST gas. That's what scared everyone THE MOST]

Pennyworth : [Is serving some cold water for his Young Master, knowing he prefers it chilling, but a bit cautiously knowing his current predicament] Young Master Damian, your water with exactly 3 ice cubes-

Damian : [Very much not paying attention, just spacing out and fiddling with his bandages] The cold doesn't exist, it is a mere concept society made to conquer heat's absence.

Pennyworth : Ah... Yes, Young Master Damian.

___

Bruce : [Is standing by Damian's room, wanting to ask questions, mostly about what he's feeling regarding Scarecrow's latest concoction] Damian? Can I enter?

Damian : Of course you can enter, Father.

Bruce : Thank you, Damian. [About to step in-]

Damian : But may you?

Bruce :... Ah.

[The BatKids, just right behind him snickering in amusement]

Jason : *Whispering* Whoop-Whoop! The Grammar Police! [Laughing]

Dick : Well... He is right, Bruce. Because, you can but may you?

Tim : He reminds me of Mrs. Smith.

___

[It was early morning, and Tim was already awake, lounging on a chair while waiting for breakfast. But he wasn't aware he had company]

Tim : [Texting on his phone]

Damian : You look like a ladybug.

Tim : AH!- Oh, Damian... Whew, it's just you. [ Is scared out of his wits, almost hitting Damian with his phone as a reflex]

Damian : That should be scarier.

Tim :... True.

___

Tim : Hey... Damian? [He called after breakfast was done]

Damian : What.

Tim : [Tentatively] What did you mean... By me looking like a ladybug?

Damian : I am not sure as to why I've called you a ladybug, you just reminded me of one. Do you want to see my sketches of you as a ladybug?

Tim :... You made sketches of me?

Damian : Hm. [Just shrugged his shoulders, wanting to go back to his room]

Tim : I... I would like to, to see. That is. Yes.

Damian : Then follow, Drake.

___

Jason : What is happening to him? [Is motioning to Damian hanging out with Tim, very, very surprised seeing and hearing not one single fight]

Dick : I don't know, Jay-Jay, but I'm warming up to it!

Jason :...

Dick :...

Jason : The gas?

Dick : The gas.

___

Dick : Hey, Baby Bat! Whatchu' doing? [All sunshine and rainbows, sparkly, while leaning over Damian's frame]

Damian : I'm drawing you as DiscoWing.

Dick : Oh, Baby Ba-! [Tearing up in his feels before-]

Jason : NO! [Actually LAUNCHED himself at Dick before he was about to even suggest a resurrection of his past version of Nightwing]

Tim : Damian. No.

Damian : Damian, yes.

___

Damian : [With Barbara, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke -having a Spa Day] You all are quite good company.

Duke : Thanks, Lil' B!

Stephanie : I know, right?! I always wonder why Tim and Co. never accept my invitations to unwind and relax after a SERIOUSLY so horrible day-

Barbara : You didn't give an invite, Steph.

Stephanie : Oh, shush! Hmph, so what if I want to keep Damian to myself?! He's such a cutie-pie when gassed!

Barbara : [Is shaking her head in fondness] I'm sorry about her, Damian. She's quite insensitive.

Damian : I don't mind.

___

Cassandra : Healed?

Damian : Since last night.

Cassandra : Cunning. :]

Damian : Thank you.

[haggishlyhagging]

I was standing before the desk of my doctoral dissertation adviser who was angrily telling me that I was not going about my dissertation in a way that suited him. He shouted at me, from his intimidating height, that my master's thesis adviser had told him I had pressured him unmercifully too and hadn't asked his advice either all along as I should have. I asked my fuming educator, as calmly as I could, why my master's adviser had never indicated this to me. I suggested that if he hadn't approved of the way I was proceeding, he should have said something to me at the time. And that since he always signed everything I took to him to sign, and since he had not stood in the way of my receiving my master's degree, I had simply assumed he approved.

Even as I asked the question, however, I knew the answer. I hadn't behaved femininely. I hadn't asked their advice. I hadn't acted as if I weren't capable of doing all this without their help. Hadn't, in short, acted incompetent, helpless, childish, and infinitely grateful for every little scrap of attention or advice they, as superior beings, had given me. I was twenty-eight years old when I began my master's research. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to go about doing it. I proposed it to my adviser. He agreed. I did it. That was that—I thought.

Oh, but not so. I didn't lean on him. To me he was just part of the red tape. I cut through him as quickly as possible. And I had no time to linger. Already we had one child and were ready to conceive another. I had to move faster almost than humanly possible, and I did.

Now my doctoral adviser had heard from my previous master that I had not been sufficiently humble and impressed (did not respect the priesthood enough, meaning the men). But this one wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd show me who was boss. I understood this as women understand it, not intellectually, just in the flesh of my face as he scowled at it, just in the resignation of my weary-with-watching-male-ego-signs flesh. And I knew exactly what to do about it, without thinking, without strategizing—cry. So he would know I wasn't trying to show I was as smart as he was and didn't need him to tell me what to do next. Cry—so he would realize I was just another weak little woman and he had no cause for alarm. Cry—so he would feel bigger and more rational, and still, above all else, still blessedly in control.

So I cried on purpose that day, and because I did I became Dr. Johnson a year later, moving with great speed through a system designed to slow doctoral candidates down. Because I cried.

If men hate to be thus manipulated, then they must allow us to be real, they must not force us to manipulate their egos in order to live a full human life. I hate such machinations. I despise them with all my heart. But women are forced to resort to them because men won't otherwise allow us to exist. And we have a right to life.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

700 Years

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.6K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: sexual servitude briefly described in regards to Y/N (concubus), soft Haarlep (he is baby i love him so much), Raphael (enough said), fluffffff

Part 2

-----------------

You heard the defenses of the door fade away. You laid unmoving, naked on the massive bed. The intruders gawked at you but you did not speak.

A tall tiefling made her way to you before gently shaking you a bit. Your eyes flit to hers, “Yes?” you asked.

“Who are you?” said the Selune follower.

“I am Y/N. One of Raphael’s concubus.” you said sitting up.

“But you’re a mortal?” questioned the vampire.

“Always read the fine print when you make a deal with the devil.” you mumbled. “Now, has the master sent you here for me to please you? All of you?” you said moving to sit on your knees.

“The devil imprisoned you as a concubus to serve him?” the vampire asked.

“No, he imprisoned me to serve his guests… Tell me fangs, how do you like it?” you said, leaning towards him with a seductive smile.

“That’s awful.” Karlach said not even realizing it slipped out.

“The devil isn’t a good guy? I’m shocked.” you said sarcastically. 

“If you can help us, we can save you.” said the githyanki in the back of the group. 

You quirked your eyebrow, wondering if this was a test from Raphael. Whatever the punishment would be for even saying you wanted to leave was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I am not allowed to leave.” you said, pointing to the chain around your ankle that kept you bound to the bed. 

The adventurers eyed each other, unsure of what to do exactly. “The Orphic Hammer is in the archive, say “give me my heart's desire” and take it… quick before he comes back.”

Everyone nodded and started to run towards the archive, leaving you on the cold bed. Everyone except a certain vampire. He shook his head at the door, eyeing you before running back over to you. You watched him in stunned silence as he quickly made work of the complex lock chaining you to the bed. 

“What are you doing? You’re wasting your time.” you whispered to him.

“I was locked in sexual servitude for 200 years, call me soft for not wanting to leave you in the same state.” said the vampire as the final click of the lock snapped. 

“I haven’t been free of that chain in 100 years…” you whispered while silent tears fell from your eyes.

Astarion looked at you confused, “Human, but not mortal?”

You laughed out breathily. “Raphael keeps what’s his forever. He made me eternally youthful so his guests would be… eternally entertained.” 

“How long?” he asked, afraid to know the answer.

“What year is it?” you asked, trying to give an accurate calculation. 

“1490” he said quickly.

“Really?... I’ve been down here for 700 years… that is… um…” you felt your chest fill with dread. Everything and everyone you knew was gone. You were truly and completely alone.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive to what you’re going through right now but maybe we can sulk back at camp once we’ve escaped the hells?” he asked, standing you up and grabbing you random clothes he found strewn on the floor.

“Thank you…” you said. You felt detached from your body, your eyes had tunnel vision and you felt weak. 

“Astarion,” he said.

“Thank you Astarion.” you nodded gently.

“Astarion! We have company!” the tiefling yelled from the door, holding the hammer.

“Stay here, you can’t fight.” Astarion said, rushing the door. You followed him, grabbing his arm before he made the door. He could see it in your eyes. Fear. “I will come back for you as soon as Raphael is dead. I swear it.” he said.

Your grip on him loosened. All you could do was trust him. He left and you heard a never ending commotion from down the hall. You looked around the room searching for one specific thing, you knew Raphael wouldn’t throw away something so valuable, you just had to find it. You tried to open the opulent chest in the corner of the room, Raphael had chained you to the bed because you so much as touched the chest 100 years ago. 

“Looking for something little mouse?” said Haarlep from the doorway. He looked ravishing as always and a sinister smile graced his face. 

You rushed to him and hugged him immediately. Haarlep had been your one comfort in the House of Hope. When Raphael found that you and Haarlep were friends he moved Haarlep to a separate room just for them. That was 300 years ago, you hadn’t seen him since. 

He held you tightly. You two were bonded on a level not many could say they were. He understood your pain, and you understood his. He had been enduring it long before you had but you weren’t from the hells. You were some poor paladin who made a deal to save their lover… only for said lover to abandon you with Raphael. You were a beauty, that was undeniable. Raphael found a use for you in his demented little home. 

“It’s time for me to go.” you said, holding his face. 

He didn’t want you to leave, but he knew this place was not for you. He wanted you to be able to live life, you couldn’t do that here. “I suppose it is.” he smiled sadly at you. He enchanted the chest, unlocking it. There, in all its glory, was the armor you arrived in. Hell Dusk armor. With a snap of Haarlep’s fingers you adorned your armor. You felt powerful, your oath was long broken but you felt the power of the dark. It warmed you like an old friend. 

“Goodbye little mouse.” Haarlep said, caressing your cheek. You smiled up at him, both of you feeling the weight of this bittersweet moment. 

“Leave with me?” you begged him. 

Astarion rushed back into the room, “We have to leave now.” he said, barely acknowledging the devil. 

“Go little mouse. My place is here.” Haarlep adorned your neck with a necklace, the flick of his wrist poofing it into place. It was an infernal marble tied with a simple string. “Come tell me about your adventures in a few hundred years.” he said, smoothing his thumbs over your never ending tears. You nodded quickly, placing a quick kiss to his lips. Astarion grabbed your hand and started to lead you out. 

“Keep them safe.” was all Haarlep said to Astarion before disappearing into a cloud of black smoke. 

—————————

You escaped the hells and followed the adventurers to their camp. Everyone introduced themselves on the way. You noticed that Astarion hadn’t let your hand go yet, despite danger no longer being imminent. When you got to camp, you stayed with him. Feeling a sort of… comfort with him since he is the only one who stayed with you. 

Astarion was soft towards you, surprising even himself. All he could hear in his head was you saying 700. Living over twice as long as he had, he can’t imagine how Raphael had abused you. It broke his undead heart. He felt a sense of responsibility towards you. To protect you and care for you and show you the world might not be so bad. To guide you. Nobody had helped him and it was miserable. He was broken out of his trance by the sound of your armor being taken off. He looked at you, watching layer upon layer fade away. He saw the various scars that adorned your body. What in the hells had been done to you?

“Everyone had different pleasurable appetites in the hells… I had to indulge them.” you said running your fingers over some of your more lengthy and prominent scars. 

Astarion gently held his hand out to you, afraid that if he touched you first in this moment you might recoil. He was shocked when you took his hand and kissed his palm.

“Thank you…. for saving me. You didn’t have to. I’ll be useful to your team and fiercely loyal to you of course. Whatever you want of me, consider it yours.” Your eyes grew distant. He knew that look, he had worn it for 200 years. You were waiting for him to use you, your body specifically.

Astarion pulled his hand away from you and gave you some loose fitting clothes. “You belong to yourself. You’re free now, you decide what happens to you.” You held the clothes but didn’t move. 

“Strange to be free. The hells were home for 700 years. Everything I’ve ever known of this world has changed.” You spoke aloud, unsure if Astarion cared enough to listen. 

“You miss your lover?” Astarion said inquisitively. 

“Lover?” You asked confused.

Astarion pointed to your necklace, the infernal marble felt warm in your hand. “Haarlep wasn’t my lover, he was my friend. My only friend… Raphael… made us do things together for the entertainment of his guests… but we weren’t lovers. We were equals, stuck in the same awful predicament. He was always good to me.” You trailed off softly, missing Haarlep immensely. 

Astarion understood, he felt as if you and him were connected purely through the trauma others had inflicted upon you both. 

“I’m sorry… I know this must all be difficult but, you’re here now. Relatively safe, with somewhat normal companions. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.” He said, secretly hoping you’d stay. 

“If I stay, can I stay near you?” You asked uneasy. 

“I don’t see why not, you haven’t proven burdensome yet.” He said with his eternal smirk present. 

You smiled. Today was full of more smiles than the past 100 years. “Then I’ll stay.”

Hello lovelies! I hope you're all doing well :) here is another fic, I think I might try to put one more out before work on Monday. Maybe this one could become a series if y'all like it that much? Idk I'm just doing my own thing until I get requests.... Thanks you for the likes, comments, reblogs, and motivation! Stay safe out there ilysm <3

[tizeline]

Bro that angst potential ur separated au is keeping me up at night. You've said since Mikey would be a powerhouse due to training at such an early age, would it be safe to assume that Leo & raph are too? They've been mastering their ninpo 4 years? And if yes then dam they must be tanks. Must be a force to be reckoned with the bros and drax being all chaotic. Did they start to train so early bcuz drax only saw them as soldiers n stuff? Drax sure must've softened over the years huh guess he couldn't handle the cute lil menaces lol. Is Donnie aware of his own ninpo yet? I'm imagining him going up against the others with all his cool tech and then they whip out this anime magic ass superpower out of nowhere. Like meeting others like u after years of thinking u were the only one must be at least baffling right, now it turns out magic is real too. And he's gonna have it too(Not to mention the bro bomb waiting to drop on his head). Would his insecurities rise after witnessing all that?

Sorry I just absolutely LOVE ur au friend, i have a ton of questions but ill hold it 4 ltr. I'm really excited to see where you take it :)) -🌾

Oh man, Anon, glad to see you so excited haha!

Just a heads up, I'm still figuring out the story of the AU, so I don't know all the specifics yet, but here are some of my thoughts. And also, this became a bit of a ramble, that's what you get when you send long asks lol /lh

The way I'm thinking how Draxum is gonna be like in this AU is that he didn't view himself as the turtles' father initially, not really because he only viewed them as mere tools for him to use, he always saw them as people with induviduality. But rather, he hadn't really connected the dots that creating children + raising said children = parenthood, which led to Draxum like a year after mutating the turtles having the sudden realization one day of "OH SHIT AM I A DAD!?" and having a mini crisis because of that.

Anyway, while I don't think Draxum is the perfect dad in this AU by any means, he does genuinely care about his kids. (If Mikey managed to win Draxum over in canon after having spent a whole season fighting each other, there's no way he'd care about Mikey any less in a scenario where they've been on the same side since day one like they have in this AU.) He started training the turles from an early age and they are expected to help him with his Definitely Not Evil World Domination Plan, but they are still allowed free time and hobbies and such. And aside from some "ugh I don't wanna train right now I wanna play vidya gaemes" occasionally, the turtles never really opposed the idea of them becoming Draxums super soldiers. Kids are really easily influenced and if your parent keeps telling you that you are the heroes who are gonna save the world from evil, chances are you're gonna latch on to that narrative without question. But after meeting Donnie and April, who knows, it might be what finally starts making the other turtles question if their cause really is as just as they think :) That being said, I still have to figure out how Draxum would react exactly to his sons starting to oppose his world view.

Then their abilities! I also have to do more reasearch into exactly how the magic system works in RoTMNT cuz uhhh it's a bit unclear sometimes. Anyway, ninpo is specifically the magic used by the Hamato clan, and considering Raph, Leo and Mikey weren't raised as Hamato I don't think they would have access to that specific type of magic (though I still think they'd be be able to possibly unlock it later down the line) They would still have access to yokai magic, and of course the mystic weapons that they stole in the show would just have been given to them in AU by Draxum. And oh yeah, the brothers are powerful. To be fair, Donnie was able to keep up with Draxum pretty well in the pilot episode, so he wouldn't be COMPLETELY outmatched by his brothers. His tech is powerful enough that he'd be able to put up a decent fight even if he lacks mystic powers himself but..... three against one? Yeah, Donnie isn't winning any time soon. The biggest advantage he'd have would honestly be that his brothers wouldn't really WANT to fight him cuz they'd be all like "Long Lost Brother™??? 😭😭😭 Please come home Long Lost Brother™ we love you!!! 😭😭😭"

And I think Splinter would have kept both of their origins secret initially like he did in the show, so Donnie would't have any ninpo either, but I also think Donnie would still learn about the whole Lou Jitsu and Genetically Modified Super Soldier thing earlier than in canon. And god, yeah, learning about all of that would definietly be A Lot, which is why I still need time to figure out Donnie's exact reaction sorry Anon you're gonna have to be patient XD

[necstasy]

paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please

slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

"have you mastered it yet?"

you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.

your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.

"no. not yet."

paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.

"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.

but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.

"it is," you agree after a moment.

paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.

the energy is electrifying.

it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.

paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.

you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.

"i found that ... pleasure can help you."

your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.

"pleasure?"

paul nods.

"how do you mean, my lord?"

his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.

"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.

"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."

you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.

he does soon after.

"do you want to try it?"

you do. you really, really do.

"how would we do it?"

paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.

"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."

"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.

paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"

you nod.

paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.