#consensually. you may opt out

[hey-august]

If you are still doing the prompts, reader saying prompt nr 2 to Buggy because we already saw him crawl in the show and yanno. Yannnoooo…..

(Also I know using chop chop powers in this specific way may not be everyone’s piece of cake but if the idea of him and reader in a consensual scene with him only having parts of his arms and legs instead of all of his limbs to move over to reader also does anything for you…. WELL. I mean WELLLLLL)

Gif from monikanarnia

WELLLLLLLL, ANON 🤭 This got WAY out of hand. Not very smutty, it's more about the vibes here.

Prompt: “Crawl to me.” Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, buggy discovers he might have a humiliation kink 🤡 Word count: ~1.3k

That drunk moron. It’s infuriating, honestly. There are parts everywhere, like the aftermath of a dog who got too ferocious with a stuffed toy. In this case, it was a pirate who got too deep into a bottle of rum. You woke up to a solo hand resting on Buggy’s side of the bed. Hoping that the rest of his body was on the floor or at least safely nearby, you got up and promptly tripped over a forearm. Just a forearm. And that was the sign - Buggy literally lost control of himself.

The rest of your morning was spent on a fucked up treasure hunt. Flesh and body parts strewn across the ship, meekly waiting for someone to find them. A few choice parts you opted to leave where they were, because fuck him. Buggy’s torso, found in a hallway and all in one chunk, was too heavy for you to carry. His head was in the kitchen and pissed you off with the peaceful sleepy expression it had. His feet were waiting outside a bathroom and they could stay there for all you cared. You also left behind the hand still clutching an empty rum bottle. Everything else you found either on your own or in a pile that the crew put together. You toted the pieces back to the bedroom to keep safe. Safe.

You just finished locking up the last dresser drawer with a satisfying ‘click’ when shouting signaled the captain’s arrival. His voice oscillated between shrill and hoarse, a symptom of a likely hangover. As Buggy got closer, you could pull out pieces of what he was griping about. In between usual orders for the crew were demands and queries about where he was and wasn’t. You knew they would point him in your direction, so you leaned against the dresser and waited.

The hand you left on the bed perked up at the sound of knocking. It zoomed over and opened the door to rejoin it’s owner. In toddled Buggy. You thought that you’d feel better after seeing him, but the unreadable expression on his face ticked you off. It’s like he couldn’t decide if he was happy to see you or annoyed about the absence of his body. The thin tight lipped smile held under his smeared face paint flickered into a frown more than once as you stared at each other.

After a moment, you crossed your arms tauntingly. Buggy shuffled into the room further and flicked his hand to close the door. He wasn’t graceful.

“Really? You left me like this?” Buggy’s question finally pulled forward the smirk you tried to tamper down.

You pointedly looked at him up and down (not that there was much to look at right now) before answering. “What’s wrong?” 

“What the FUCK am I supposed to do without arms or legs?” Buggy shouted as he wiggled the hands attached to his shoulders and stamped the feet his torso sat on.

“Hm, that sounds like a you problem. I was just cleaning up the mess you left,” you said coldly. 

“Babe, the mess is ME. Of course it’s a me problem, it’s my body,” he sneered. “Give it back, I know you have me locked up like some fucking hostage.”

“Like your audiences?”

This wasn’t working. Buggy needed to try something different. Honey, instead of vinegar. All he wanted was to reassemble so he could fall apart in bed. He was exhausted and it’s hard to sleep when parts of himself are just out of reach. It’s like voices in his head that he can’t turn off. You were mad, obviously. And what should a good partner do when someone’s mad? Listen. Lucky for him, he still had ears.

“Sweetie, sweets, dearest,” the performer cooed with an apologetic smile as wiggled forwards a few inches. “You’re upset with me, I get. What can I do to make it up to you?”

You allowed yourself time to roll through your thoughts. There was a lot you could ask for - gold, treasures, a date, fancy food, new clothes. One idea called out to you, a wicked little sound that stuck in your head like sludge.

“Crawl.” The air in the room stilled. The atmosphere shifted, pressing down on you both. The weight pulled Buggy’s smile down into a disgusted scowl.

“Say again?”

“I want you to crawl to me. Then you can have your things back.” You said the request as if it was the simplest thing to do. As if he had enough body parts to crawl with.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not gonna-”

“Then you’re not gonna get shit. Crawl, Captain.” 

The sharp tone in your demand stirred something deep inside Buggy. A depraved perversion that had been waiting for a moment to shine woke up ready to play. His cheeks flushed as the pounding in his chest shifted from hot anger to burning desire under your unrelenting stare. With a click of his tongue, the pirate stared at the ground and wondered how to start.

You watched as Buggy lowered himself horizontally to the ground through a controlled topple, stopping short of smashing his nose on the wooden floor. Fingertips and tiptoes held him aloft - just barely. Strands of hair that escaped his bandana dusted the wood floor as he hovered, steadying himself before making another move. Craning his neck, ocean eyes sought yours to ask if this was enough. An emotionless stare said it wasn’t. Keep going.

A dramatic sigh wafted across the floor as Buggy began inching his way towards you, moving at a pace that his stiff hands and feet set. It was slow progress and you followed every bit of it. There were a few moments you thought he’d give up. Moments where he’d pause to give his aching fingers a rest. Stopping to look and see how far away you were, both physically and emotionally. If it wasn’t for the embarrassed erection throbbing underneath him, Buggy probably would have tried harder to talk his way out of this.

He felt ashamed, embarrassed, and so fucking turned on - which only added to the humiliation. Part of him wanted you to say he had done enough and could stop. But a hornier voice told Buggy to keep going, to see what would happen. Finally, he was close enough. He had huffed and panted his way across the room, fingertips and cock throbbing through most of the awkward journey.

You looked down at the small man at your feet, waiting for him to make the next move. After a brief respite, Buggy rightened his body, relying on his Devil Fruit ability to make up for the lack of limbs. Once vertical, Buggy turned his face towards yours. You would have thought the hot red blush was the result of physical exertion after a night of drinking, if it wasn’t for the blown out pupils and the way he licked his lips.

“Are you turned on? Did that fucking turn you on?” you asked in disbelief. His narrowing eyes the only answer he’d give.

“C-can I have my body back?” A slight quiver slipped out with the request.

With rolling eyes, you released the pirate’s body parts from their wood prisons. Buggy quickly reassembled himself with a flurry of movement. His eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away in shame. The knot in his stomach tightened, pulling his cock in an aggressive twitch.

“You still mad at me?” Buggy mumbled. You didn’t miss the uplift intonation hidden under the question.

“Why? Do you want me to tell you how to make it up to me?”

Buggy’s eyes widened at the prospect and the blush on his face spread to his ears. The answer tasted uncomfortable. A little bitter, but he liked it. Still, he was reluctant to admit to this craving.

Reading into his hesitation, you grabbed Buggy’s chin and pulled his face to meet yours. “Tell me, Buggy.”

You broke through the weak barrier he pretended to hide behind. Buggy’s hands wrapped around your forearm, wanting to stay in this position. To keep this dynamic. His face softened and he nodded vigorously against your hold.

(prompt list)

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august buggy prompts

[dreamofjoys]

For Vil, Rook and Malleus: May I request a f!reader/F!MC that is sleeping next to her man only to start… grinding up against their leg and calling their name in her sleep and it’s evident she’s having a… vivid dream… what would happen afterwards when she wakes up? 😈

a/n: thanks for the req! i enjoyed writing this. hope you like it 🥰 btw everything here is consensual

scenario: twst character sleeping with their s/o, only to be woken up to the sight of her grinding against their leg. she seems to having some lewd dreams.. what is her boyfriend going to do?

characters involved: vil schoenheit, rook hunt, malleus draconia x fem s/o

tw: minor spoiler for halloween event (rook) , thigh riding, masturbation, implied oral, riding

vil is a perfectionist

he has a strict set of schedule that he always follow, one of them being to get 7 hours of sleep everyday

of course things slightly changed after dating you

he would still be busy, but would often give cuddles at night, opting to do skin care routine with you before drifting to sleep

he loves you, he really do. even tho his job as the house warden of pomofiere and being a world wide celebrity had him busy all day, he would still allocate some private time for you

so imagine his surprise when one night, he woke up to feel his thigh wet

confused, he turned over and noticed that you were sloppily grinding, moaning out his name while you were…. asleep?

it did then clicked to him that you were having one of thoes lewd dreams

he sigh, feeling a little bad that he had not been paying any proper attention to you, maybe that’s why you are dreaming of such things

he gently shakes you, waking you up from your dream

when you woke up, you noticed that both of your legs were wrapped around vil’s thigh. and your pussy seems to be…. evidently soaking wet

“how’s the dream?” vil asked you as you gasped, understanding what he mean. did you just grind on his thigh…. and got caught by him?????!!!!?? “what dream?” you tried to play dumb, but vil was smart. “hm? do you want me to go into the specifics? you even moaned out my name.” vil taps his index finger on your cheek lightly, promptly teasing you as you blushed. “it was…good…..i just wished that it would be real…..” you trailed off, eyes looking anywhere else but him. vil merely laughs out loud, before giving you a head pat and kissing your cheek. “i can give it to you now, dear. you just need to ask for it.” and then… the both of you spend the next few hours making love to each other. it was probably one of the few rare moments where vil would risk his precious beauty sleep just to satisfy you <3

rook is a very observant person

he even subconsciously counts the number of hours that he sleeps…

so when he felt something, or rather you, grinding on his thigh, man is immediately awaked

he could tell what dream you were having with the way you were panting and moaning his name

got him a little excited and happy

happy cause you must have love him so much that you would even dream of him <3

and since his s/o is having some… troubles, what kind of boyfriend he is if he doesn’t help you?

he presses his thigh further onto your cloth cunt, rubbing it to further stimulate you

did you just moan his name louder? god, it turns him on so much

he unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from it, giving it a few pumps as he watches you grind on him

he could literally feel the warm of your pussy on him, so he opts to pull you even closer to him, letting you have your fun

he doesn’t wake you up cause he prefers to see your reaction when you are done with him

and when you are done, that’s when he gently shakes you awake

“mon amour,” rook whispered, gently shaking your shoulders. your eyes fluttered, revealing the (e/c) orbs that rook has grown to love. “rook….?” rubbing your eyes, you noticed that something was… wrong. your body was pressed against rook’s, both of your legs were wrapped around his thigh, and it felt awfully wet. looking down, you spotted your own slick being stained on rook’s thigh, and his dick was evidently standing up straight, with pre-cum leaking on top of it. “mon amour, can you help me please?” who are you to deny him? so being the good girlfriend that you are, you gave him the best suck of his life while he lets you ride on him whenever you want.

does this man sleeps? well actually yes, he does

he probably sleeps like 3-4hrs a day

but ever since the both of you start sleeping together, he goes to bed with you every single time, not caring if is 10pm or 4am

also another one that is very observant and aware of their own surroundings

he hugs you to sleep, i just know it

like rook, he knows it the moment you started grinding on his thigh, moaning out his name

is a little confused at first

child of man? what are you doing?? are you calling out his name because you need something? are you having a nightmare? is grinding on thighs a thing that humans do?

wakes you up immediately and asks you about it

“child of man, wake up.” malleus gently pats on your cheek, waking you up from your dream. you opened your eyes, noticing malleus looking at you with concern on his face. moments ago in your dreams, he looks erotic tho. “are you okay? you were calling out my name just now, grinding yourself on my thigh. what was that for?” malleus asks, stroking your cheek affectionately as he looks out for any injuries on your body. in his mind, humans are fragile, he wouldn’t want you to have any wounds. “no-nothing, i was just having a lewd dream about you…” you confessed, feeling embarrassed about it but you did not want to lie to malleus about anything. malleus only laughs and looks at you with adoration. “silly girl, just tell me what you want, i will give it to you. besides, are you satisfied with just riding on my thigh? come dear, you can ride on my cock instead.” he lifts you up by your hips and place you on his lap, his hardened cock directly under your clothed pussy. yeah, you spent the rest of the night bouncing off his cock

#twisted wonderland #imagines #malleus draconia #diasomnia #y/n #vil schoenheit #pomofiere #rookhunt #twst smut #rook smut #vil smut #twst rook #twst vil #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus smut #dreamofjoystwst

[coffee-430]

May I request Number 3 for Zhongli? It’s just made for him ngl

—100 Followers Event!

No. 3: "Would you prefer to have these chains in gold?" With Yandere Zhongli

Character: Zhongli

Warnings: yandere themes, non-consensual touching, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, vague mention of rape

Note: Lemme pretend I just didn't disappear for like a year (?). Anyway, hope this was to your liking!

You've come this far.

No way in fucking hell are you even thinking of going back.

Cuts and blood stained your skin, as your clothes were ripped and torn as you ran through the thick and dark forest of Teyvat. Climbing high ass mountains was definitely a death sentence, so you opted to run through a much less rocky path for your life.

You supposed being hurt by sharp branches and twigs was better than climbing very tall rocks.

Speaking of rocks, you were running away from the man you once thought was the love of your life.

The Geo Archon, he revealed, was insane to the bone and you never would've guessed that. You consider yourself fortunate that you happened to find out all that was happening to you.

Friends and family whom you've cherished ever so dearly, came back with news of them dying horrible deaths— the look and stares of people whenever you pass by was something you did not fail to not notice.

And that just so happens you connected all dots to him, and when you had confronted him about it— he began singing his 'undying love' for you. Claiming he was simply doing what he thinks is best for you.

Of course, you scoffed at that and mentioned breaking up with him. Just imagine the face he made when you made such a declaration.

And thus why, you were on the run.

Running for your life— and quite literally at that.

"Argh—!"

You yelped, tripping on a large root. The jagger ground didn't soothe your fall as you hissed in pain. But you wasted no more time and began to pick yourself back up.

Every stride taken, you pushed yourself harder, determination fueling your movements. The forest seemed to stretch endlessly before you, a daunting maze of shadows and whispers. You knew you had to keep going, had to find a way out before he could catch up to you.

Moonlight filtered through the foliage, revealing tears streaming down your face. Fear fueled your escape, and determination drove you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Zhongli's voice then echoed behind you.

He was faster and getting closer than you thought.

His voice was a haunting melody of anguish and rage. Shadows danced on the trees as he pursued you relentlessly, his footsteps gaining ground. And panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of your situation.

With every step, the forest felt like it was closing in around you, a labyrinth of uncertainty. The thicket became denser, almost slowing you down, but you pressed on, driven by a desperate need for freedom. The night air was thick with tension, and your senses heightened with each passing moment.

Suddenly, a break in the foliage revealed a small clearing bathed in moonlight. Your heart soared with hope, sprinting towards it, the air thick with anticipation. You stumbled out into the open space, chest heaving as your eyes scanned the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Just as you began to relax, a shadow loomed from behind, and you were horrified to see the very God you sought to escape, emerging from the darkness, his amber coloured eyes were wild with obsession.

"To even think of escaping my clutches was such a foolish thought, my dear."

His tone had a hint of growl in it, as if he was disappointed and annoyed at your pathetic attempt.

And before you even think, Zhongli got you cornered.

His godly power showed you just how powerful he was, and a mere human like you didn't stand a chance against an Archon like him.

His eyes glinted with a disturbing mix of desperation and obsession. "You can't escape from me, (Y/n)," he hissed, his hand found itself around your wrist and his grip on your trembling arm was tight.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as you tried to back away, mind racing for a way out. But there was no escape this time. His sheer strength alone was not to deter you hopelessly. You could tell he was holding back, for if he wasn't— he would have already broken a bone.

With no other choice, you were forcibly led back through the forest, each step echoing the surrender of your freedom.

Forced to be dragged back to your little home, your tear stained face looked blankly at the window as you watched the pitter patters of the rain.

No amount of yelling or begging could bring the Geo Archon to his senses, all words spoke of sheer pleading and request for freedom were all met with a kiss added with an embrace so suffocating you couldn't walk for a week, and the sharp threat of killing innocent people if you ever dared to leave him again.

You've come to accept your fate by now.

You couldn't risk having innocent lives die a pointless death just because you wanted to be free. The thought of it— freedom— and their deaths was what you deemed not worth it.

You hate it. You hate how you value the stakes of others instead of yours.

The doors to your pris— room— opened, and in he came. Followed by the sounds of metal clacking as he approached.

The brunette smiles at you, taking in all of your beauty and figure.

"You look wonderful tonight, my love." He complimented, taking a strand of your hair before he placed a kiss on it. "And you've been behaving well, too."

Chuckled the Archon, kneeling down in front of you— in his hands he presents two long metal chains with metal cuffs at both of its ends.

"It's a present."

The man announced, a gloved hand of his traced the length of your bare leg. And you swore you could have heard him sigh a small bliss.

He set down the chains and lifted your leg up, gently kissing your barefoot. In his eyes, he was not the divine being in this room, but you.

His actions made it clear that he worships you like a loyal devotee of a God.

"You've been so good." He whispered, using one hand to pick up the chains he set down. "As a reward, I shall make you choose."

"Would you prefer to have these chains in gold?"

Zhongli looked up at you like a man who found no error in the words he spoke. And then you, a person who can't find to fight back any longer, simply answered back:

"Would gold suit me?"

Amber eyes glinted and a grin was evident on his face. "In your case, my dear, you would look beautiful in anything."

As if you were Cinderella, he slips on the metal chains around your ankles with just the right amount of tightness— fitting you like a glove.

And as the storm lengthened outside, you knew that your nightmare was far from over. Trapped once again in the clutches of an obsessive lover, that you could only pray for a miracle to set you free.

#co430event! #co430requests #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere genshin #thank you so much for 100 followers!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

To save the news, ban surveillance ads

Tonight (May 31) at 6:30PM, I’m at the MANCHESTER Waterstones with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Ian Forrester.

Tomorrow (Jun 1), I’m giving the Peter Kirstein Lecture for UCL Computer Science in LONDON.

Then it’s Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

Big Tech steals from the news, but what it steals isn’t content — it steals money. That matters, because if we create pseudo-copyrights over the facts of the news, or headlines, or snippets to help news companies bargain with tech companies, we make the news partners with the tech companies, rather than watchdogs.

How does tech steal money from the news? Lots of ways! One important one: tech steals ad revenue. 51% of every ad dollar gets gobbled up by tech companies — primarily the cozy, collusive ad-tech duopoly of Google/Facebook (AKA Googbook). If we can shatter the market power of the concentrated ad-tech industry, news companies would go back to getting 80–90% of the ad revenue their reporting generated, which would pay for more reporting.

There’s lots to like about fixing ads. For one thing, a fair ad marketplace would benefit all news reporting, not just the largest news companies — which are dominated by private equity-backed chains and right-wing billionaires who have repeatedly shown that any additional revenues will go to pay shareholders, not more reporters. Fair ads would also provide an income for reporters who strike out on their own, covering local politics or specific beats, without making themselves sharecroppers for Big Media.

One way to fix ads would be to break up the ad-tech “stacks.” Googbook both operate impossibly conflicted ad-placement businesses in which they bargain with themselves on behalf of both advertisers and publishers, with the winners always being the tech companies. The AMERICA Act from Senator Mike Lee would force ad giants to divest themselves of business units that create conflicts of interest. It’s popular, bipartisan legislation — and I do mean bipartisan; its backers include Elizabeth Warren and Ted Cruz! I wrote about the AMERICA Act and the role it will play in saving news from tech for EFF’s Deeplinks Blog last week:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

This week, I’ve got a followup on Deeplinks about another important way to unrig the ad market: banning surveillance ads:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

Even if we break up the ad-tech stacks, ads will still be bad for the news — and for the public. That’s because the dominant form of digital ads is “behavioral advertising” — the ad-tech sector’s polite euphemism for ads based on spying. You know these ads: you search for shoes and then every website you land on is plastered in shoe ads.

Surveillance ads require a massive, multi-billion-dollar surveillance dragnet, one that tracks you as you physically move through the world, and digitally, as you move through the web. Your apps, your phone and your browser are constantly gathering data on your activities to feed the ad-tech industry.

This data is incredibly dangerous. There’s so much of it, and it’s so loosely regulated, that every spy, cop, griefer, stalker, harasser, and identity thief can get it for pennies and use it however they see fit. The ad-tech industry poses a risk to protesters, to people seeking reproductive care, to union organizers, and to vulnerable people targeted by scammers.

Ad-tech maintains the laughable pretense that all this spying is consensual, because you clicked “I agree” on some garbage-novella of impenatrable legalese that no one — not even the ad-tech companies’ lawyers — has ever read from start to finish. But when people are given a real choice to opt out of digital spying, they do. Apple gave Ios users a one-click opt-out of in-app tracking and 96% of users clicked it (the other 4% must have been confused — or on Facebook’s payroll). The decision cost Facebook $10b in the first year. You love to see it:

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/02/02/facebook-says-apple-ios-privacy-change-will-cost-10-billion-this-year.html

But here’s the real punchline: Apple blocked Facebook from spying on its customers, but Apple kept spying on them, just as invasively as Facebook had, in order to target them with Apple’s own ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

The thing that stops companies from spying on us isn’t the strength of their character, it’s the discipline imposed by regulation and competition — the fear that they’ll get fined more than they make from spying, and the fear that they’ll lose so much business from spying that they’ll end up in the red.

Which is why we need a legal ban on ads, not mere platitudes on billboards advertising companies’ “respect” for our privacy. The US is way overdue for a federal privacy law with a private right of action, which would let you and me sue the companies who violated it, even if no public prosecutor was willing to go to bat for us:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/you-should-have-right-sue-companies-violate-your-privacy

A privacy law that required companies to get your affirmative, enthusiastic, ongoing, specific, informed consent to gather and process your personal data would end surveillance ads forever. Despite the self-serving nonsense the ad-tech industry serves up about people “liking relevant ads,” no one wants to be spied on. 96% of Ios users don’t lie.

A ban on surveillance ads wouldn’t just serve the public, it would also save the news. The alternative to surveillance ads is context ads: ads based on what a reader is reading, rather than what that reader was doing. Context-based ad marketplaces ask, “What am I bid for this Pixel 6 user in Boise who is reading about banana farming?” instead of “What am I bid for this 22 year old man who recently searched for information about suicidal ideation and bankruptcy protection?”

Context ads perform a little worse than surveillance ads — by about 5%:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/29/taken-in-context/#creep-me-not

So presumably advertisers won’t pay as much for context ads as they do for behavioral targeting. But that doesn’t mean that the news will lose money. Because context ads favor publishers over ad-tech platforms — no publisher will ever know as much about internet users as spying ad-tech giants do, but no tech company will ever know as much about a publisher’s content as the publisher does.

Behavioral ad marketplaces have high barriers to entry, requiring troves of surveillance data on billions of internet users. They are naturally anticompetitive and able to command a much higher share of each ad dollar than a contextual ad service (which would have much more competiition) could.

On top of that: if behavioral advertising was limited to people who truly consented to it, 96% of users would never see an ad!

So contextual ads will show up for more users, and more of the money they generate will land in news publishers’ pockets. If context ads fetch less money per ad, the losses will be felt by ad-tech companies, not publishers.

Finally: publishers who join the fight against surveillance ads won’t be alone — they’ll be joining with a massive, popular movement against commercial surveillance. The news business is — and always has been — a niche subject, of burning interest to publishers, reporters, and a small minority of news junkies. The news on its own is a small fry in policy debates. But when it comes to killing surveillance ads, the news has a class alliance with the mass movement for privacy, and together, they’re a force to reckon with.

My article on killing surveillance ads is part three of an ongoing, five-part series for EFF on how we save the news from tech. The introduction, which sets out the whole series, is here:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

The final two parts will come out over the next two weeks, and then we’re going to publish the whole thing as a PDF that suitable for sharing. Watch this space!

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Manchester, Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: EFF's banner for the save news series; the word 'NEWS' appears in pixelated, gothic script in the style of a newspaper masthead. Beneath it in four entwined circles are logos for breaking up ad-tech, ending surveillance ads, opening app stores, and end-to-end delivery. All the icons except for 'ending surveillance ads' are greyed out.]

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/31/context-ads/#class-formation

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

CC BY 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #class formation #ad-tech #context ads #news #gdpr #big tech #eff #monopoly #how to save the news #link taxes

[mystique-6]

Kinktober (It's really Whumptober) Day 7: Spanking

 Summary: Ailis' unresolved trauma is triggered and she takes her feelings of guilt and remorse out on her companions. Astarion makes her pay a price for it.

Hello! My hyperfixation on Astarion has got me in the writing mood so I will be participating in Kinktober using @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. The pieces may be part of a bigger fic(s). I have started the fic. If you like this please consider checking out my main fic, This is Me Trying. (Can you tell I like Taylor Swift?) Either way, I hope you enjoy. I do plan on completing the 31 prompts though it will take me past October. I also have the fic posted on AO3.

Warning: Anyone under 18 do not interact. Please pay attention to the tag warnings below.

Tag Warnings: Spanking, Light BDSM, Safe, Sane and Consensual, Un-Resoled Trauma, Guilt, Survivor's Guilt, Nudity, Snuggling & Cuddling, Aftercare, Whump, No Sex, NSFW

Additional Note: This fic involves Spawn Astarion. I have stated that some of these prompts will be used in my main BG3 fic, This is Me Trying. This one definitely will be. This is actually a very important chapter for my OC and I saw an opportunity to have a practice run of the chapter. I'm glad I did it because I know now for sure that a flashback chapter will be needed. This ended up being too much exposition. Still, I hope there will be some people who enjoy this fic. If you are reading This is Me Trying and don't want spoilers though, you may want to skip this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from BG3.

        

  Ailis felt her headache growing as her group argued over how to rescue the tieflings…again.  Two days ago, they’d entered the Shadow-Cursed lands.  Earlier this day they’d met a group of Harpers and had helped them in a battle against a batch of shadow monsters.  This had gotten them an invite to the Last Light Inn, the final sanctuary left in these lands.

            Once there, they’d been revealed as true souls.  The leader of this faction of Harpers, Jaheira, had made to attack her group, but thankfully the tiefling child, Mol, had convinced the woman to give them a chance.  It was clear now, though, that Jaheira just saw her group as a tactical maneuver.  She wanted them to use their status as true souls to infiltrate Moonrise Towers and find a way to kill Kethric Thorm; the person who had taken over these lands.

            She didn’t necessarily oppose to looking into Kethric Thorm.  He seemed to be involved with the Absolute Cult and they were in desperate need of answers about their tadpoles.  Looking into Thorm and getting information on the Absolute and their tadpoles aligned with each other.  However, Jaheira also wanted them to go on a rescue mission.

            While her team had scouted around the inn on their arrival, they found some of the tieflings they’d helped at the grove.  About half of the group was missing.  It turned out that the road they had intended to follow to Baldur’s Gate had been destroyed.  They had opted to travel above land through all the Shadow-Curse instead of cutting out most of it by going through the Underdark.  The group had been attacked by Absolute cultists.  Many had been killed or captured, but the rest had found their way here.

            Ailis was sympathetic to their plight.  She could feel the hopelessness, grief, and guilt from those who remained.  She couldn’t stop Rolan’s angry words towards her earlier in the day from playing on repeat in her head.  But they had their own problems.  They needed to start putting their whole attention on getting rid of these tadpoles.

            “This arguing is ridiculous!”  Wyll’s shout caught her attention.  He made eye contact with her.  “Chief, tell this lot we need to save the tieflings first.  Thorm can wait.”

            “If we go in and bust their prisoners out, we’ll make the cultists hostile towards us and we won’t be able to get the information we need,” Shadowheart protested.  “The tieflings have to wait.”

            “There are ways around that,” Gale said.  “We could use confusion spells or disguise spells.  Or we could make it look like the prisoners broke out themselves.”

            “That seems like a lot of effort when we can just rescue them after we take care of Thorm,” Shadowheart said.

            “I agree with Shadowheart,” Lae’zel said.  “Though it pains me to say it.”

            “This is getting ridiculous,” Wyll sighed.  “Ailis, come on.  Set this lot straight.”  She felt a surge of anger course through her.  She always had to be the one to solve all their problems or play mediator.  It was growing tiresome.  It was draining her.  It was too big of a job with this crew.  She could feel her skin crawl with anxiety over the overwhelming job of managing all their egos.  Her nerves prickled at their expectant stares.

            “Ailis…” 

            “We don’t have time to be wasting on the tieflings again,” she snapped as her emotions boiled over.  A part of her was horrified at what had just spewed from her mouth and her gut roiled with guilt from the shocked and dismayed looks on Karlach’s and Wyll’s faces. 

            “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Gale said in a saddened tone.

            “As am I,” Lae’zel agreed.  “I didn’t think you had it in you to ignore people in need.”

            “Oh please,” she said.  “I’m hardly a hero.”

            “You are to these tieflings,” Karlach stated.

            She ignored a fresh stab of guilt and shook her head.  “We need to focus on these tadpoles,” she said.  “We don’t have time to spend on a group of people who are clearly doomed.”

            “Wow,” Shadowheart said.  “I would expect that level of callousness from Astarion, but not you.”

            “Well, that’s rather rude,” Astarion whined.  “I probably would have kept that thought to myself.  Probably.”

            Ailis sighed.  “Look, what happened to the tieflings is tragic, but we need to focus on our own problem,” she said.

            “Then it’s settled.  We’ll investigate Thorm, and then we can free the tieflings,” Shadowheart said sounding pleased.

            “Well, that depends on what we find out about these tadpoles while looking into Thorm,” Ailis replied.  “Don’t forget these parasites are time sensitive.  At some point we will transform into mindflayers.  If we discover that’s going to be sooner rather than later, we won’t have time for the tieflings.”

            “You’re seriously saying you don’t want to help the tieflings at all?!” Karlach cried angrily.

            “I’m saying, that our tadpole problem is more important right now,” she said.

            “I suppose if we take out Thorm, that would make it possible for the Harpers to help the tieflings,” Gale cut in.  The wizard was always trying to find the middle ground.  He wanted so desperately to be liked.  She usually found this endearing, but right now it only fueled her anger.

            “I suppose that’s an option if we need to take out Thorm at all,” she muttered.  More incredulous looks greeted her.

            “If we need to take out Thorm?” Wyll repeated, astonished.  “Ailis, have you not paid attention to these realms?  Look what the man has done!”

            “What he’s done doesn’t concern us,” she argued.  “Our focus is getting rid of these tadpoles and if we can do that without spending time killing Thorm, then that’s what we’ll do.  End of discussion.”

            “I think there’s a lot more to discuss,” Karlach snapped.  The floor around her began growing scorch marks.

            “Easy now,” Wyll soothed.  “There’s no need to get worked up.  This is just a disagreement.”

            “One that we’ll all work out,” Shadowheart added.  Ailis snorted and the cleric glared at her.  “And what did that mean?”

            “Oh, I just thought what you said was amusing,” Ailis replied.  “‘We’ll work it out’ Ha!”

            “What are you getting at, Ailis?” Shadowheart snapped.

            “I just think it’s cute that you think you all will figure it out,” she replied.  “What you really mean is I will figure it out because I am always the one to figure out what we’re doing.  I am always the one who manages everyone’s opinions to come up with a solution.  I am the one who manages everyone’s ginormous egos!”

            “Now, that’s not really being fair,” Gale tried to intervene.

            “Fair?” she shrieked.  “No!  What’s not fair is dumping all your trauma on me and expecting me to deal with it for you.”

            “Darling, I think you…”

            “Don’t ‘darling’ me,” she snapped at Astarion.  “I have to do everything for everyone!  And no one ever helps me.  No one ever checks in on me to see how I’m doing.  So the only one whose opinion matters here is mine.  We need to learn about these tadpoles.  If that leads us to needing to take out Thorm fine, but if not, our next step is whatever gets rid of these parasites.”

            “You’re out of line, Ailis,” Shadowheart growled.

            “Now, hold on,” Wyll intervened.  “Ailis did make some fair points.  We could put more effort into controlling our emotions and…egos.  However, Ailis, you are the leader of this group and it’s your job to…”

            “Yes, I am the leader and I’m doing my job,” she cut him off.  “I’ve told you what we’re going to do.  That’s the end of the discussion.”

            “So, we just have to do what you say now?  Our opinions don’t matter?” Shadowheart scoffed.

            “That’s exactly, right,” Ailis replied coolly.

            “And if we’re not willing to go along with that?” Shadowheart asked through gritted teeth.

            “Then you can leave,” Ailis said.  She knew she was going too far, but she couldn’t stop herself.  She couldn’t bring herself to back down.  The frustration of the last few weeks was bubbling over.  Still, her guilt increased at the look of hurt on her companions’ faces.

            “You’d really kick out any who disagreed with you?” Lae’zel asked in a tone of surprise.

            “Don’t tell me you suddenly disagree with that philosophy,” Ailis replied.  “You’d have had me kick out most of this group a few weeks ago.”

            “I…”

            “You know what?  I’m done with this,” Ailis cried.  “Whoever decides to join me, meet back here in the morning.”  She turned and stormed out of the building.  She stalked angrily down to camp and began pacing the rocky shores of the lake nearby.  As she paced, she could feel her anger and anxiety turn inwards.  She shouldn’t have yelled at them.  They didn’t deserve that.  She just couldn’t stop thinking of Rolan’s words from earlier that day.  He was right.

            “You’re going to burn a hole in the ground if you keep pacing like that,” Astarion’s snide voice called out.

            Ailis glanced up at him and scowled.  “Go away, Astarion,” she said.  “I don’t want to talk right now.”

            “Yes, I gathered that,” he replied sitting down on a large boulder.  “Still, someone needed to check on you.”

            “And they decided to send you?” she asked.

            “I sent myself,” he replied sounding a little annoyed.  A stern look crossed his face when he noticed her look of disbelief.  “I’m not completely callous to your well-being, Ailis.  I care that something is clearly upsetting you.  Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

            “You don’t want to know,” Ailis replied bitterly.

            “Ah, but I do,” he said.  “It must be something big to make you go off like that.  Now go on and tell me.  It will make you feel better.”  She began to pace again.

            “You just want me to go back to being complacent,” she grumbled.  “You don’t care.  You just don’t like it when I’m a bitch, but it’s not my…”  She cut off when he stepped in front of her to stop her pacing, and gripped onto her shoulders.

            “You’re not a bitch, Ailis.  You’re just upset.  And yes, I do care,” he said.  “If you talk to me about whatever has you so upset, maybe you’ll feel better.”

            “I…I can’t,” she replied.

            “Yes, you can, darling,” he said.  “Just tell me what has you upset.  It was what Rolan said, wasn’t it?  You’ve looked agitated since that conversation.”

            “I can’t tell you.  You’ll leave if I tell you.  You all will,” she cried, tearing herself out of his grip.  She began pacing anxiously again.  This time, he didn’t try to stop her.

            “No one’s leaving, darling,” he said.

            “You would if you knew,” she said.  “You’d have never agreed to travel with me if you knew.”

            “Well, now I think I have to know,” he said, trying to teaser her to a lighter mood.

            “I’m serious, Astarion,” she replied, though she did stop pacing.

            Astarion nodded.  “I’m sorry, darling,” he said.  “Still, I think you better tell me.  I think it will help.”  She sighed and closed her eyes.  She opened them when she felt his arm wrap around her waist, and he led her over to the boulder he’d sat on before.  “Here.  Sit down here and we’ll talk.”  She gathered herself for a moment and stared out at the still water of the lake.

            “This isn’t my first time leading a group of people,” she said slowly.

            “I gathered that,” Astarion replied.  “You lead troops in the Espax War, didn’t you?”

            “Yes, and I have plenty of guilt over that, but that’s not what’s bothering me now,” she said, and then glanced up at him.  “How much do you know about the Espax War?”

            Astarion shook his head.  “Nothing,” he replied.  “I’d get bits of news when hunting targets, but that’s it.  Espax is a long way from Baldur’s Gate.”

            Ailis nodded.  “The war started as a rebellion against Espax’s government,” she began to explain.  “By all accounts, Espax had an incredibly corrupt government.  There were two factions running the rebellion.  Both wanted to take out the existing government, but their ideas for the future government differed.”

            “A recipe for disaster,” Astarion commented.

            “Exactly,” she said.  “The factions managed to overthrow the original government, but they couldn’t agree with each other enough to build a new one.  They began fighting and it turned into a full out war.  Both sides began recruiting soldiers, originally from their own people.  However, one faction was more popular than the other amongst Espax’s citizens and most went to fight for them.”

            “So, the faction you fought under had to resort to other methods of recruitment,” Astarion said.

            “By the time I was press-ganged into service most of the people fighting were doing so unwillingly,” Ailis replied.  “Even those who had originally joined freely had turned against this faction by that point.  They committed horrendous atrocities.  Many even said they’d rather have the old government back than continue to support this one.”

            “And you led people in attempts to escape?” he asked.  “Or overthrow?”

            “Escape,” she answered.  “When I first got there, I tried to escape on my own.  When that didn’t work, I started recruiting others who wanted to leave.  There were a few of these attempts.  They all ended with many of my group dead or tortured as punishment.”  Her hand came up to her face to worry at the deep scar running down her cheek to her jaw.  She had a smaller one below her right eye.

            Astarion gently moved her hand away from the scar and rested their intwined hands on his lap.  “Is that how you got those scars?” he asked.  “Trying to escape?”

            “Helping someone else to escape,” she said and then smiled bitterly at his incredulous expression.  “I had given up trying to escape by the time I got these scars.”

            “But you were still helping others to escape?” he questioned.

            “Not at first.  For a while I just gave up and did what they wanted me to,” she said.  “I’d accepted it as a just punishment for my previous crimes.  I proved to be a good soldier.  After a while they trusted me with training new recruits and then leading small groups in battle.  Eventually, I began to form friendships with others there.  The two relevant to this story were Nash and Marissa and her three kids…”

            “Kids?” Astarion said.  He looked surprised.

            She nodded.  “They recruited anyone they could,” she said.  “They’d take criminals being transported to the gallows like I was to travelers just passing through.  Many of the travelers had children.”

            “Is that what happened to your friend?” he asked.

            “No,” she replied.  “Marissa was in the war almost from the beginning.  Her husband was part of the rebellion and was a supporter of this faction.  Marissa had no idea until after he was killed in one of the first skirmishes.  The faction blamed her husband for the loss of so many lives in that skirmish and so did a lot of the dead’s’ families.  The faction told her if she worked for them, they’d forgive her husband’s failure and keep her and her children safe.

            “There was no choice for her.  She agreed.  She mostly did secretarial work for them.  She wasn’t thrown into battle until the last few years when things were growing increasingly desperate,” she explained.

            “They started putting the kids into battle, didn’t they?” Astarion guessed.

            Ailis nodded.  “When I first arrived, all children stayed in camp,” she said.  “The older kids kept the barracks in order and watched their younger siblings.  But the war wasn’t going well and they couldn’t get enough soldiers.  In the penultimate year of the war, they decreed sons that were fourteen or older would be put into battles.  They would ‘try and keep them off the frontlines’ they said, but we all knew they’d end up there eventually.

            “Marissa was beside herself with worry.  Her oldest son was nine months off from fourteen,” she continued.  “We all saw the war would be ending soon, but not soon enough for her son.  On a night off, me and our other friend, Nash, took her out for drinks to let her vent her worries.  She kept repeating that she had to do something.  That she couldn’t let this happen to her son.”

            Ailis closed her eyes and sighed.  “I was the one who suggested escaping,” she said.  “Marissa was hesitant about it at first.  Punishment for runaways by this point in the war was almost always death, and if they didn’t kill you, they’d make you wish they had.”  She worried at her scar again.

            “You got her to agree to the attempt though, didn’t you?” Astarion said.

            “She came around to the idea,” Ailis said.  “She didn’t like it though.  It didn’t sit well with her.  She didn’t think it was fair that just she and her kids would get out.”

            “Why would she care about that?” Astarion asked perplexed.  “She should have just worried for herself…and her kids, I guess.”  Exasperation and amusement settled across her expression.  The vampire spawn’s lack of empathy tended to reveal itself in inopportune times.  There was no point admonishing him, though.  She’d accepted by this point there were some things Astarion would just never truly understand.

            “Marissa wanted to get more people out,” she continued.  “After some convincing she got me and Nash on board.  Well, she got me on board.  Nash only agreed to it because I was going to be involved.”

            “You and him were involved?” Astarion asked.  She could see he was trying to just sound curious, but she heard a jealous note in his tone.

            “We had an arrangement.  Like ours, really,” she admitted.  “There weren’t any deep feelings.  We both got what we wanted out of the other.  And Nash wasn’t exactly hard to look at.”

            Astarion snorted.  “So, did it work?” he asked.  “Whatever plan you concocted to free people.”

            “For a time,” Ailis said, “but after six or seven months they were cracking down.  Nash insisted we had to stop, at least for some time.  But Marissa’s son would be turning fourteen in just over a month and there was already talk of lowering the age to thirteen.  I insisted that we do one last escape to get Marissa and her kids out.

            “Nash didn’t like it but he agreed if it was just Marissa and her kids I led out.  The night started like every other escape night, but…it all went wrong,” she said, closing her eyes against the painful memory.

            “Nash betrayed you,” Astarion said.

            “No.  Not Nash,” Ailis said.  “The night guard he bribed to ignore anyone he saw escaping.  He might not have done so willingly.  I’ll never know.  They killed him.  Guns went off when we breached the camp.  We ran off into the woods, but they knew our routes.  Marissa and I tried to gather the kids together and come up with an alternate route, but a soldier shot off a gun near us and her little girl ran off frightened right into the open and they…they shot her.”

            “Ailis…”       

            “We went back with them after that,” she continued through her tears.  “They brought us to the General’s tent to interrogate us.  They wanted to know everyone who was involved in the operation.  We did our best to conceal who’d been involved, but in doing so, Marissa incriminated herself by admitting it had been her idea to help families escape.  I tried to intervene; to convince them it was all on me.  I had the history of escape attempts, not Marissa.  All my attempts got me was a knife to the face.  They then forced me to watch as they killed Marissa.  They killed my friend right in front of me and her remaining children.  That was my punishment.  They wouldn’t kill me.  I was too useful to them.”

            “What happened to her two sons?” Astarion asked.

            “Nash got them out,” she replied woodenly.  “He was high ranking in the army.  One of the lead officers had a niece who couldn’t have children.  They lived away from the fighting.  They weren’t involved at all.  They were willing to take them in.”

            “Nash couldn’t have done anything for you or Marissa when you were captured?” he asked.  She could tell he was judging her old friend.

            “No,” she replied, harshly.  “He made it very clear from the beginning when we were planning the operation he wouldn’t lose his position for something he thought was foolish.  He did what he could for us when we were captured and that’s it.  What happened to Marissa and her daughter wasn’t his fault.”

            “It wasn’t your fault either, Ailis,” Astarion said.  “None of what you’ve just told me was your fault.”

            “It was though,” she insisted.  “If I hadn’t planted the idea of escape in her mind, Marissa wouldn’t have thought to include other people in it.  I should have insisted that night that we would only get her and her kids out.  Or I should have caved and agreed with Nash.  He had high rank.  There were things he could have done to keep her son safe.

            “I got Marissa killed.  I got her daughter killed.  I got all the people from my original escape attempts killed,” she said.  “I can’t help the tieflings.  I’ll get them killed.  I’m going to get everyone killed!”

            “Ailis, darling, look at me.  Look at me!” he repeated when she turned her face away.  She reluctantly turned and met his gaze.  He looked very concerned.  “Ailis, what happened to your friend and the others was not your fault.”

            “It was.  I…”

            “Did you force them to try and escape?” he asked.

            “What?” she cried, confused.

            “Did you force them to try and escape?” he repeated.  “Did you threaten pain or death if they didn’t follow you?  Did you blackmail them into joining you?”

            “No!” she cried, appalled.  “Of course not!”

            “Were they aware of the risks they were taking when they agreed to join you?” he grilled.  “Did you tell them the potential consequences?”

            “Yes.  I drilled it into them what could happen if we failed,” she replied.  “Astarion, why…”

            “I’m asking you, darling, because I’m trying to understand why you think you’re at fault,” he said.  “Based on everything you’re telling me, you only gave everyone an option to join you.  You didn’t force them.  You let them know the risks so they made informed decisions.  I’m failing to see how you bare any responsibility for what happened.”

            “I led the attempts.  I was responsible for all their lives.  I am responsible for their deaths,” she said.  “You should leave.  You should let the others know what a failure I am and leave.  Nothing good will come of following me.”

            “I’m not leaving, Ailis,” Astarion said.  “And neither is anyone else.  If you told the others what you just told me they’d tell you the same thing I am.  What happened was not your fault.”

            “I was responsible for all of them.  That makes it…”           

            “That does not make it your fault,” he said firmly.  He gave her a soft expression and gently wiped tears from her face.  “The burden of the failures may be ours, but what happened to those people…that’s not your fault.”

            “You’ll feel differently when I get you and our companions killed,” she whispered.

            “You’re not going to get us killed, Ailis,” he said.  “We’re all getting out of this alive.  We’re not like your previous groups.  You have a group of skilled individuals with you.  You’re not alone in defending everyone.  You have us to reply on.  Everything is going to be fine.”

            “You don’t know that,” she said.

            “No, but I have a feeling,” he replied with a smile.  She said nothing in return.  She just sat there and stared out at the calm waters.  He began to massage her scalp, probably hoping to help her relax, but she couldn’t let her failures go. 

            “Sometimes I think it would have been better if that wagon had reached the gallows,” she said.  His hand stopped moving through her hair.

            “You really think it would have been better if you had died?” he asked.

            “A lot of people would still be alive right now,” she replied.

            “You don’t know that,” Astarion said.  “They could have died later in the war.  They most likely would have.”

            “They’re not the only lives I’m responsible for losing,” she said.  “Trust me, Astarion.  I deserved to be brought to the gallows.”

            “You don’t think four years forced into a war that wasn’t yours was punishment enough?” he questioned.  “You don’t think your guilt is punishment enough?”  She shook her head.  “Well, I do.”  He stood up and she felt her mood plummet even further.  She had wanted to be alone when she came down here, but now it was the last thing she wanted.  She couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from her though.  She’d just encouraged him to do exactly that.

            He didn’t walk away, though.  Instead, he turned back towards her and held out a hand for her to take.  “I think I know a way to help ease your guilt,” he said giving her a smile.  “Do you trust me enough to give it a try?”

            When they’d first met a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have agreed to anything he proposed.  At least not without a detailed breakdown of what he intended.  Now though, she took his hand and let him lead her through their camp.  She was relieved to find it was still empty.  She didn’t want to face her companions yet.

            Astarion led her through camp to the abandoned building they’d found.  There had been a squabble over it as most of the group had wanted to take up residence there as it had a bed.  It was decided that no one would set up permanent camp there.  They would use it for group meetings or personal time only.  She guessed the latter was what he had in mind now as she looked at the clean sheets that had been put on the bed.  She felt a spark of irritation.  She should have realized he thought sex would make her feel better.  It was the last thing she wanted right now.

            Still, she would go along with it.  It would be easier than trying to explain why his action was insensitive to her feelings and the argument that would ensue.  It wouldn’t be the first time she endured sex to please a man’s ego and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.  And Astarion was very skilled in bed.  Maybe it would prove a good distraction from her thoughts.  As they approached the bed he let go of her hand and then sat down on the edge of it with his feet shoulder length apart.  He looked at her with a serious expression.

            “Remove your pants and undergarment, Ailis.  They get over my lap,” he ordered.

            Ailis blinked and stared at him dumbly for a moment.  This wasn’t how they usually did this.  “I…what?” she said confused.

            “You wanted to be punished, didn’t you?” he questioned and her face flushed a hot red as she realized what he intended to do.  He smiled wickedly at the sight of her blush.  “I do love it when you blush.  It’s such a rare occasion.”

            “I…I’m not a child,” she protested, though that statement certainly made her feel like one.

            “Only children can be spanked?” Astarion replied with a widening grin.

            “I…I’ve never…”

            “You’ve never received a spanking before?” he questioned, surprised.  “Your mother never had you over her knee?”

            “My mother didn’t believe in hitting children,” she replied, defensively

            “Well, as you’ve just pointed out, you’re not a child,” he said. 

            “I…”  She didn’t finish her statement.  She didn’t know what her statement was.  She squirmed where she stood and stared at the floor, trying to come up with something to say.  Astarion’s feet suddenly came into view, and then she felt his cook fingers caress her chin as he lifted her face so she was looking at him.  He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

            “You’re rarely this flustered,” he murmured softly.  “What has you concerned?”

            “I don’t know what you’re expecting to get out of this,” she said.

            “He frowned, puzzled.  “Get out of this?” he repeated.

            She flushed.  “I know some people do this for fun,” she said.

            He nodded.  “Yes, and you may find you enjoy this, but that’s not the intended purpose of tonight,” he said.

            “Then what are you getting out of this?” she persisted.  “My pain?”

            His eyes widened.  “Your pain?” he said shocked.  “Ailis, how hard do you think I’m going to hit you?”

            “I don’t know!” she cried.  “I’ve never done anything like this, except for that Loviatar priest.  I don’t know how this works.  I know you enjoyed watching that priest strike me.”  She expected him to get mad, but he just stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

            “Hold out your wrist, Ailis,” he ordered.  Confused, she did as he asked, holding her arm out in front of her with her palm up.  His own hand struck her wrist before she even saw it coming.  She hissed and drew her arm back, cradling her wrist to her chest.  She gazed at him with a shocked expression.  His own was perfectly neutral.  “Did that hurt?”

            “Yes,” she replied in a tone that made it clear she thought he was crazy for asking.

            “Is the pain unbearable?” he asked in the same neutral tone.

            “No,” she answered, eyebrows furrowed.

            “That’s as hard as I intend to spank you, give or take a little,” Astarion said.  “I’m not going to beat you black and blue.  You’ll be able to sit down tomorrow.”

            “But when the priest…”

            “I didn’t know you very well when you let the priest beat you.  I hadn’t fully decided I trusted you.  I thought you must have been into that sort of thing and responded accordingly.  I was surprised you never asked me to do anything similar when we began having sex.

            “You’re not wrong that I get off on others pain.  I’m not going to lie about that,” he said.  “But the purpose tonight isn’t the pain.  You carry a lot of guilt over your past.  I just want to try to help you release some of it.  As for what I get out of it, well, control.  We don’t have to do this, though, Ailis.  I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want.”  She believed him.  Even before she really began to tryst him, she’d trusted him to stop if she asked.  He was always attentive of any boundaries set during sex.

            “Okay,” she finally agreed.  “What do I say if I need you to stop, though?”

            “Just say stop,” he told her moving back to his previous position on the bed.  She didn’t follow yet.

            “Don’t people use specific words for this sort of thing, though” she questioned, “because they might say stop on instinct?”

            “Yes.  A safe word is usually put in place for that reason.  However, due to our personal histories if you say stop, I’m going to take that at face value,” he said.  “So don’t tell me to stop, Ailis, unless you really want or need me to, okay?”

            She nodded.  “Okay,” she agreed.

            “All right then.  Remove your pants and undergarment and come here,” he ordered pointing to a spot right next to him rather than demanding she get over his lap right away like he had originally.  She moved slowly as she completed his orders.  A nervous anticipation had her heart racing, and she couldn’t help trembling a little.  Astarion noticed and took her hand in his, gently massaging her knuckles with his thumb.

            “Are you all right, darling?” he asked, giving her a soft look.  “We can stop.”

            “No, I’m all right,” she said.

            He nodded and his expression turned stern.  “Do you understand why you’re being punished?” he asked.

            “For failing to save…”

            “No,” Astarion said and she gave him a puzzled look.

            “You said this was to try to relieve my guilt,” she said.

            “It is, but I’m not going to punish you for something that wasn’t your fault or something you already received punishment for,” he said.  “Pick something else.  Something more recent.”

            “I shouldn’t have yelled at our companions,” she said after a moment.  “I was being unfair.”

            “You certainly were,” he said.  “You shouldn’t have taken your problems out on them.”

            “I know.  I’m sorry,” she whispered.

            “I know you are.  Still, you need to receive punishment for your actions,” he said.  “How many times should I spank you?  How many have you earned?”

            “I…I don’t…” she looked at him helplessly.  She had no basis for this.  She felt completely lost in the moment.  Luckily, he seemed to understand.  He gently squeezed her hand in reassurance.

            “How about I give you two options, and you choose what works best for you?” he suggested and she nodded her agreement.  “Option one: I give you ten harder strikes.  Option two: I give you twenty with fifteen being the same strength I slapped your wrist earlier, and the last five a bit harder.  Either way, you’re going to be able to sit tomorrow, Ailis.”

            Ailis thought about it for a moment.  Ten sounded more appealing than twenty.  She wouldn’t have to be in an embarrassing position for as long.  However, the slap he’d given to her wrist earlier had stung and the skin was still a little pink.  The skin on her ass would be even more sensitive.  She’d never done this and she wasn’t sure she was comfortable having him hit her any harder.  Getting through five hard strikes seemed better than ten and if she couldn’t handle it and had to tell him to stop, she’d have already taken at least sixteen.  She’d be able to say she gave it a fair chance.

            “Twenty,” she said quietly.  He nodded and gave her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

            “All right then, darling,” he said.  “Get over my lap.”  She awkwardly positioned herself over his lap.  He helped her maneuver so his one leg helped support her upper torso even as her head hung down just below his knee.  She held onto his one knee with one hand and the sheets on the bed with the other.  Her ass was completely exposed to him, and she trembled with nerves.  She jumped when he placed a hand on the center of her back.

            “Try to relax, darling.  You’re safe,” he soothed, rubbing her back a little.  She took a few deep breaths and slowly felt her muscles relax.  “That’s it.  Are you ready for me to begin?”

            “Y-Yes,” she said.  “Do I count them out loud?”

            “Hmm, that is an appealing thought,” he said in a teasing tone before growing serious again, “but not tonight.  We can examine that possibility another night if you decide you like this or find it helpful.  I don’t want to push limits tonight.  Now, take one last deep breath for me before I begin.”  She did as he said, and the first stroke came as she let the breath out.

            She let out a startled squeak.  It hurt.  It felt worse than the strike to her wrist had.  Still, it was not unbearable.  She hadn’t quite processed it, when the second strike hit, and then she stopped thinking as he continued to land blow after blow.  By the time he struck her ten times she realized she’d made a mistake in choosing twenty strikes.  Her skin where he’d hit her felt like it was on fire and the pain was increasing with each strike even though the strike’s strength hadn’t changed yet.  When he reached the fifteenth strike her tears finally spilled over and down her cheeks.

            He stopped after the fifteenth strike for a moment, but any relief she might have felt vanished when he shifted his leg so the seat of her ass raised to a higher position.  She whimpered as she thought of where the last five, harder blows were going to land.  He hushed her and comfortingly stroked her back.

            “It’s just five more, darling, and then you’ll be done,” he assured her.  “Do you think you’re ready to apologize now?”

            “Y-Yes.  I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” she cried.  “I didn’t mean to act like that.  I couldn’t stop myself.  I…I…I…”

            “Shhh.  Shh, darling,” he soothed.  “Breathe for me.”  She tried to do as he said and took big gulps of air in until her breathing found a rhythm again.  “Good girl.  I’m going to give you the last five strikes now.  I want you to try and release your guilt with them, all right?”

            She nodded and then the first blow hit and any thought of trying not to cry anymore escaped her.  She started sobbing and it took everything in her to not ask him to stop as the next blow hit.  She had felt worse pain before than this, but this just felt so intimate.  She wanted to bare it for him.  Right now, she would do anything for him, so at the last strike, she tried to release some of her guilt.

            Astarion helped move her into a sitting position on his lap.  He managed to adjust her so her ass was mostly between his thighs so nothing rubbed against her reddened skin.  She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed ash she clutched to him like her life depended on it.  She stroked her back and hair and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

            “Shh.  It’s all right now, darling.  All is forgiven.  You’re all right,” he soothed.  He repeated a variation of these words until her sobs turned to cries and then to whimpers until finally, she ran out of tears.  She rested, slumped against him, feeling more exhausted than she had in her whole life.  They sat like that for a few minutes and then she felt his hand slide between her legs and a cool finger split hear seam, running the length of it before brushing over her clit.  She let out a shaky gasp.

            “What do you think, darling?  Based on how wet you are, you seemed to enjoy that.  Should we move on to more enjoyable activities?” he asked.  She thought about it for a moment.  She was surprised to find she had evidence of arousal, but in the back of her mind she’d been aware of a stirring of heat between her legs that was different from the heat on her ass from the spanking.

            Still, she shook her head.  “No.  I’m sorry.  I don’t feel up to it,” she said, her resolve to endure it from earlier cracking.  She knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.  “I’m sorry.  I know you were planning on having sex tonight, but…”

            “It’s all right, Ailis,” he cut her off.  “Don’t apologize.  We both have to want it, remember?”  She smiled and nodded.  He moved his hand back to a more acceptable spot on her thigh.  “So, what do you want, darling?  How are we spending our time tonight?”  She opened her mouth with an immediate response but then just as quickly clamped her mouth shut and looked down at her lap.  “What’s wrong, Ailis.”

            “Nothing,” she said.  “It’s just, what I want…you won’t like it.  I’m trying to think of something else.”

            “Ailis, darling, look at me,” he ordered and she raised her face to meet his eyes.  “You’re just tried something very new to you that had you completely out of your element tonight.  You’re going to get whatever you want.”  He grinned.  “Within reason of course.  So, tell me, what do you want.”

            “I just want to naked cuddle,” she said.  “And I want you to stay with me all night.”

            Astarion nodded.  “Very reasonable,” he said and kissed her forehead.  He slid her to sit on the mattress.  Her full weight was on her ass though and she felt the skin burn as it brushed against the sheets.  She jumped up from the bed and clutched her ass.  Astarion laughed and she gave him a hurt look. 

            “I’m sorry, darling,” he said as he stood up.  “The look on your face was just funny, that’s all.  Here.”  He helped slide her shirt and upper garment off.  “Stand there for a moment while I undress and then we’ll get you on the bed comfortably.”  He kissed her forehead again and she stood waiting as he quickly undressed.  When he was naked, he sat down on the bed and then moved until he was lying down on his back in the middle.  He held out his arms for her.  “Come here, darling.” 

            She climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him.  He pulled her down so she rested mostly on top of him.  Her head rested on his shoulder.  She hissed when he pulled the top sheet over them, but the sting only last for a minute.  He stroked her back and left gentle kisses to her forehead every few minutes.  Her eyelids grew heavy and she felt sleep trying to claim her.  She tried to fight it, but Astarion wasn’t having it.

            “Go to sleep, darling,” he ordered her gently.  “You need to rest.”

            “I want you to stay,” she murmured through a yawn.             “I’m not going anywhere, Ailis,” he promised.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”  She smiled sleepily as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.  It was the last thing she felt before sleep finally claimed her. 

#bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav

[1yyyyyy1]

it hurts so much being told by women that I'm not a victim after I express what this world does to women since the beginning even what other women do to individual women... These women were rf aligned... So they think that women are always the victims until its... Me? Because I'm "blackpilled" how can someone be this vile. Women were enslaved since the beginning of times and all other women co create our enslavement. I've been abused taunted gaslighted punished bullied ridiculed terrorised yet im not a victim? But other women always are?

How can women be this cruel while pretending to have virtue? All their tone policing must be secretly sadistic because its literally oppressive. They are like a curse to me at this point. How can creatures this filthy exist. Women are even naturally misogynistic in a way that they hold women to a higher standards and have more empathy for men. Like? Female socialization is aggressive. Scum behavior. Performative virtue

You are showing signs of genuine trauma to me because nobody who is not severely affected by a problem would react this harshly to it. I interact with the same type of women you are describing daily and I guarantee you that I do not react to their words the way you do, you are experiencing some kind of trauma response. You need to understand that your body is not these women's bodies and vice versa no matter how much they try to tell you otherwise, and that the acts they are engaging in are not being done to you. What they are essentially doing in trying to convince you that their problems are your problems is blackmailing you out of prioritizing yourself with things like "all of us have the potential to go through X or Y at the hands of men" (nevermind the fact that not all of us will go through the adverse effects of voluntary involvement with men, like infidelity, disappointment with your health and body after a successful pregnancy or violation of boundaries during consensual sex) and "if we all opted out, men would take it by force" — there will be no "opting out" for every woman on Earth and I have literal proof of them wanting to risk sex or pregnancy voluntarily on my blog. Opting out is for the select few who want to do nothing with heterosexual nonsense even if the price of doing so is death because partaking in their drivel is death, physical and spiritual, and if they really did care about distancing themselves from it all that much they would know that death is the least you will be willing to put up with. The behavior they engage in is perfectly avoidable. Is it hard? It is, but "hard" is very different from the "impossible" they are trying to paint it as.

"So they think that women are always the victims until its... Me?" — exactly. It is very easy to see that they lack integrity with how much they pick and choose who's a victim a who isn't in their eyes. It takes zero braincells to say "every woman is a victim" and actually approach women with that mindset, and when someone fails to do that despite preaching it over and over again, it means that there is some kind of internal agenda that they themselves may not be aware of.

I don't think they are aware of what they are doing per se, intent requires introspection and people like that are usually too caught up in their heads to do any sort of internal work to understand why they behave the way they do. At the end of the day, what matters is that their actions towards you are harmful and their lack of self-awareness doesn't signify that their behavior should be excused. Both you and me have been at it for years with trying to make these women see reason to only end up being abused and hit on the head in return, so my question is — why force yourself to put up with this? Because of the possibility of them coming to their senses and us banding together in our quest to eradicate male violence? You and these women have a different understanding of what constitutes it; you hate PIV and pregnancy and consider them violating while they don't, which is something they readily admit to, but what is even more grating is that they are not allowing you to express your disgust and exert your boundaries because they are fragile enough to think that another person's preferences reflect something about them as a person.

You don't need women to stop doing anything to get better and I am saying that from experience. What is more is that, in trying to "help" these women or by simply being around them, you are hurting a woman (yourself) which nullifies all of your feminist effort. If you want to take care of an abused woman, you need to start taking care of yourself. I can tell you with certainty that these women are well-off psychologically, at the very least compared to you, because no one with severe trauma is out there complaining about doing 50/50 with their man on an internet forum, they are terrified of men to the point where they can't stand the thought of being near one or are left in a catatonic state and I have seen that happen first-hand. I always say the following to anyone who's ever dealt with a serial abuser or put up with chronic abuse — you have years of experience with trying to get that person or lifestyle work for you, and you don't need me to tell you that the connection you are in is a certain death because it is likely reflected in your lack of productivity, overall misery or even the desire to "cross the rainbow bridge". You know what it is like to be hitting rock bottom and you might as well take a leap of faith to try and distance yourself from it. It is you or them and at some point you will have to choose.

#ask

[medic-simp]

More Silco headcanons, only these ones are spicy!

Some of these headcanons you may see in an up-coming smut that I’m writing, from which I got the idea for some of these headcanons. Don’t expect the smut to be released soon, just started it, lol.

CW: Bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, roleplay, knife play, pet play, a  lot of references to dom/sub dynamics, mention of shibari, mention of CNC, mention of breeding kink, masochism and sadism.

NSFW below the cut! (duh)

Silco is a very kinky man.

Almost anything you suggest he’s up for, except for a few things.

I don’t think he’s too fond of piss/scat play.

His favorites include, but are not limited to: bondage, exhibitionism/voyeurism, non-monogamism, roleplay, knife play, impact play/sensation play, pet play.

...

He’s got a minor bondage fantasy of tying your hands behind your back and fucking you standing up, holding you upright by the rope between your wrists.

A more intense bondage fantasy would be completely tying you up on his desk or his bed, roping you almost in a shibari style, and sexually torturing you until you’re crying and red.

The red would come from a mix of hot flush and the ropes kissing burns into your skin.

...

On exhibitionism and voyeurism, let’s talk about some non-monogamism too.

Silco isn’t opposed to sharing you with other partners, but you sure as hell only belong to him.

He’d like to show you off to other people, letting them watch as he fucks you until you’re sobbing his name or as he shoves his cock down your throat.

On the other hand, he’d enjoy watching someone else have their way with you, mostly because he can show you who does it better afterwards.

...

Roleplay is a broad subject, but to narrow it down, Silco is more for the dom/sub roleplay dynamics.

Majority of what he does in bed is geared towards dom/sub because it gives him control over your mind.

The psychological part of sex is his forte, getting you to submit, confusing you with degradation and praise at the same time, getting you to forget yourself to him, to surrender.

Getting in character is part of losing yourself in Silco, that’s what he likes about the roleplay.

Think slave, pet (more on this later), maid, almost anything.

...

Knife play, impact play, and sensation play all go together.

All are very intimate except for impact play.

He just loves to hear you cry out, whether it’s because he spanks you, whips you, anything, loves the sound.

...

Knife play and sensation play definitely tie together though.

Cutting you with the knife in a consensual environment would be an interesting and explorative idea, but it’s probably not ever going to happen.

The more appealing aspect of the knife play is your vulnerability, his control.

Threatening you with it in a CNC manner is one option, but the +sensation play option is grazing your skin with it is what Silco’s really after.

Tracing your bones, following down your stomach with the tip.

If there’s a strong connection between you and this man, he might even get it at your throat, running it along your jugular, watching your skin prickle into goosebumps the way it tickles you.

...

These two (knife play + sensation play) are much more intimate sexual explorations that you and Silco can opt for and it brings out another side in him.

In more intimate dom/sub situations, like tracing a knife on your skin, it’s clearer to see that Silco understands that you are in control until you submit, and that your submission is a gift.

He gives words of encouragement to tell him if he needs to stop, reminding you the safe word, letting you set boundaries before you yield to him.

He takes that gift gratefully and makes sure you enjoy making the decision.

...

Talking solely about sensation play without a knife, his go-to’s are dripping wax, ice cubes, featherlight touches, and whispering/speaking softly.

Wax dripping and ice cubes are a given, featherlight touches might sound a bit odd, but it’s similar to the knife play, only without the knife.

Gentle grazing your skin with the tips of his fingers or with his fingernails, watching shivers pass as he does.

Whispering and speaking softly could also have a similar effect that he would be intent on watching, though whether or not his voice gives a tingle down the spine may depend on the partner.

It’s exceptionally gratifying and intriguing to him though.

...

Now the big boy, pet play.

This is the roleplay that Silco probably enjoys the most.

There are two options to this roleplay and you can engage in one at a time or both at a time.

There’s the physical side of pet play; clip-on ears or a headband with ears, a collar and/or leash, a clip-on tail or plug tail, etc.

On the other hand, there’s the mentality that comes with pet play, the very dom/sub dynamic to it.

This would consist of you barking or making other animal noises, not talking much/not talking at all, taking orders, being a good pet (or maybe a bad pet, depending on the situation), etc.

Silco usually opts for both at the same time.

He’ll have you on your knees, holding the leash close and keeping your mouth on his cock.

Maybe holding onto the back of the collar as he fucks you from behind, breeding you “the pet in heat that you are.”

He may give you treats (small sweets, probably), will definitely call you his good girl/boy/pet, and many other things.

...

And for the final bit of this long list of headcanons: small sex things that I don’t count as full-on kinks.

Likes putting his fingers in your mouth.

Will certainly spit in your mouth.

Loves his cock in your mouth.

Just.... your mouth, he loves it.

Bites a lot.

If you sit on his face he’ll leave bite marks on your ass or on the insides of your thighs.

He likes giving hickeys and pretends to be annoyed when receiving them because of having to cover up, but in reality, he loves being marked by you.

Loves to see you crying from overstimulation.

If he can be intimate enough and close enough with you, being the submissive is nice for him because of the submitting part.

Being able to trust another person that much is a large weight off of his chest.

Despite loving being in control and having someone at his mercy, he likes someone else making the decisions every now and then, gives him a bit of a rest.

This is a no-duh headcanon but he is such a fucking talker, he does not shut the fuck up during sex.

He is always talking, and while not shutting the fuck up sounds really annoying, it generally isn’t.

It’s a lot of dirty talk, either degrading or praising you.

He likes to degrade the shit out of you and then follow it up with heavy praise, just to give you that little psychological sexual processing overload.

[waywardrose-archive]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 8

stranger things | eddie munson x reader | rated e | 8.9k

spotify playlist | for @punk-in-docs​​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This chapter’s got everything: fantasy sharing, insecurities, intimacy, horrible parents, Capri-Sun, and smut! 🖤 Check the #em tagd tag ⬇️ for previous chapters! Please comment (or critique), like, and reblog. I truly do appreciate any and all interaction. I promise I don’t bite — unless you want me to.

-

8

Eddie sat across from you in another diner for second breakfast. The sun blasted through the thin cafe curtains to warm your side. He’d said little during packing or check-out. Your gaze kept snagging on his. He’d present a quirk of his lips. You’d grin and go back to whatever you were doing.

He appeared to be mulling over something. You doubted he regretted having sex. You certainly didn’t, even though you felt deliciously used. Maybe because you felt deliciously used.

When the waitress took your order, you opted for coffee — just like Eddie. She returned with an insulated carafe, mugs, and creamers.

With a gentlemanly flourish, Eddie said, “Milady, may I pour you a cup of our finest bean juice?”

You smiled.

“Why, good sir, I’d be delighted.”

He left enough space at the top of the mug for cream and sugar. As you seasoned, he poured for himself. You watched his nimble fingers as he went about seasoning his coffee. Your gut tightened as you remembered those fingers had made you come, those hands had cupped your breasts. You watched his lips as he swallowed. You had kissed those lips. You had sucked a faint hickey on that neck.

Before he could catch you staring, you sipped at your coffee. You met his gaze over the rim, though. Light reflected off the table, causing his eyes to turn mahogany. You’d seen those eyes dark and hazy with desire.

You wondered if he had the same thoughts as you. Did he keep picturing you under him? Had he memorized your sounds? The way his come looked on your skin?

His stomach gurgled, which made you both laugh.

“Guess pop and chips don’t last long,” he said, hand over his stomach.

“We burned a lot of calories this morning.”

He gave you a devious smirk.

“We did.”

You found his leg under the table and crossed your ankles around it. He pressed his calf to yours as he drank his coffee.

.

You were nearly at the Indiana border when he lowered the music to half-ask:

“This is going to sound stupid, but that wasn’t your first time.”

You laughed — short, but loud. “No, obviously.”

“Then I gotta ask: Is it always like that?”

“Like what?”

“Intense? Hot?”

From anyone else, you’d think that flattery. From Eddie, it felt genuine. It was still flattering, of course. You liked the thought of rocking his world.

“Could ask you the same,” you said as you took off your sunglasses since the sky was becoming more overcast the farther east you drove.

He adjusted his position in his seat, putting an elbow on the windowsill. He’d also blocked the view of his crotch with a lifted knee. You changed your grip on the steering wheel as tension rose.

“For the record, no,” he said. “I’m not, uh— I’m not the most experienced guy.”

“I’m not the most experienced girl.”

“So, you’re saying we lucked out back there?”

“Or maybe we lived up to each other’s expectations?”

“You had expectations?”

“I told you I’ve fantasized about you.”

“What do you, you know, fantasize about?”

There had been so many in the past few weeks. From rough to tender. Sometimes it wasn’t even about sex. Sometimes you thought of sitting with him and talking. Just talking. Maybe holding hands. Those scenarios didn’t turn you on, per se. They were a comfort, especially after the nightmares of red lightning and cold soot and chittering of unseen predators. Nightmares where vines wrapped around your limbs until you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Nightmares of mental vivisection. Nightmares as warnings.

You couldn’t tell him that. There was nothing he could do about them. Only you could face those dreams, because they had a message you alone could decipher.

But dreams had meaning, and he’d had dreams about you.

You asked, “What about those dreams I supposedly invaded?”

“No suppose about it. You had.”

“Had. Past tense.”

“And will again. Believe me, this entire trip is gonna haunt me.”

You wouldn’t forget this trip for a long time, either — maybe ever. However, the way he said it had a touch of grief.

“You make it sound so... grim?”

“Look, we’re going back to Hawkins...”

“‘There is no real going back,’” you said, quoting Tolkien. “‘Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.’”

You glanced at him again to see his fist pressed to his mouth.

He finished the passage:

“‘I am wounded with knife, sting, tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?’”

You sighed. “Do you want to go back to how it was? Like we’d never done it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then why are you talking like things won’t be different in Hawkins? We’re different now.”

He was silent for too long. You looked at him once more. He stared out the windshield, face blank. You steeled yourself for his excuses to rationalize rejection, fishing a Djarum from the fresh pack and sticking it between your lips. He pushed in the car’s cigarette lighter for you.

Softly, he said, “It’s not that I don’t want it to be different, but I’m trying to be a realist here.”

“Oh, so you’re the only one with that capability in this car?”

“No, what I’m saying is the reality of being together in front of the whole school isn’t good. For you.”

You shot him a glare.

“The fuck?”

“No, hear me out. In Chicago, we’re just people. There’s no baggage. There is baggage — capital-b baggage — in Hawkins.”

The cigarette lighter popped, ready. You snatched it from the dash before he could and lit your cigarette.

“I get it. People are dicks—” You shoved the lighter in its holder. “—And you’re being one right now,” you said, cracked the window, and exhaled.

“I am trying to protect you.”

“By pushing me away?!” Your fists strained around the steering wheel. “Dammit, Eddie, don’t you get it? I want you! I want to get to know you and talk about stuff. And watch stupid TV.” You waved a hand in the air. “And, okay, have sex when we can. I...” You took a long drag from the cigarette to keep from crying. “I don’t care if the whole school knows about us, alright? We know about us.”

He crossed his arms.

“I’m not pushing you away.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“It’s hard to forget a lifetime of bullshit.”

“I’m not asking you to forget it,” you said as you ashed the cigarette through the open window.

“I know, okay, I know.”

He retrieved a Djarum. You offered yours to light his. He took it with a ‘thanks,’ pressed the cherry to the unlit cigarette, and handed it back.

You said, “I know you’re an outcast. I pay attention at school, you know? I’m not deaf or blind.”

“Or stupid.”

“Neither are you.”

You smoked and navigated the interstate off-ramp and tried to think of something to soothe both your ruffled feathers. Evidently, he had been thinking the same thing, because he grumbled:

“I guess nothing has to change.”

“Right? You have lunch with your friends. We go to O’Donnell’s class. We hang out after school—”

“That’ll be different.”

“That bad?”

“No.”

“Cool,” you said. “And sometimes I go to The Hideout to watch you play. That’s it.”

“When would you want to... you know?”

“Whenever we can?” You shrugged and ground your spent cigarette in the ashtray. “My parents have date nights. What about your uncle?”

“He works second or third shift.”

“See? We’ll be together when we can.”

“But you get where I’m coming from, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” You looked to see his expression had softened. “I know you want to protect me, but I’m not one of your little sheep. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” You held out your hand, which he took. “I’m not new at being a weirdo.”

You threw him a wry grin.

He deposited the butt of his cigarette in his empty soda can, leaned closer, and brought your hand to his lips for a kiss.

You smiled at him.

“So, you told me about a dream,” you said and wet your lips. “The one where O’Donnell is Samwise. What about another?”

“Shit, I... I don’t really remember. That one stood out.”

He was blushing and too still, which most likely meant he was lying.

You gently withdrew your hand, saying, “Tell me about the latest one.”

After a beat, he said, “You know those dreams that are jarring? Like a bunch of snapshots pieced together? It was like that.”

“Scary or sexy? Or both?”

“Sexy. Deeeefinitely sexy.”

“Okay, and...?”

“I woke up— Shit.” He rubbed his face. “I was so hard.”

You bit your lip as heat spread through your body. You pictured him like that: in his dark, messy room, waking with a gasp, his cock throbbing and oozing.

“What did you do?” you asked.

“I jacked off.”

His ‘duh’ was silent, but undoubtably there.

Despite the brief retort, you grinned.

“To what? What did you imagine?”

“Fuck, baby.” He put a hand between his legs. “You, okay? I thought of you.”

“Was I naked?”

He hummed. “Naked, your ass bouncing against me.”

“I was riding you?”

“No, bent over. I held your forearms and fucked you from behind. Shit, I...” His breathing deepened. “I got my dick in so deep, and you squeezed around me, moaning for it. And I pushed you down. Your ass in the air for me.” He covered his eyes. “I spanked it, too.”

“I’d let you do that,” you said as your cunt pulsed.

“Yeah? You into that?”

“With you, yeah.”

“Yeah, holy shit, we can do that. I came in you, too. Watched it drip out of your little pussy.”

You whispered, “Fuck.”

You squirmed in your seat, underwear stuck to your now-wet slit. That had been more than you thought you’d hear. You could see it, too, almost feel it: his pelvis slapping the underside of your ass, his cock ramming deep, his strong hands on your arms, then at the center of your back, then cracking against your upturned ass.

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he said. “But I really can’t say no to you.”

You met his eyes, his gaze dark and hungry. You must’ve looked the same, because he cursed.

“Come home with me,” you said and forced your attention to the road.

“Wha—”

“Come home with me. My parents won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You frowned. Most guys would’ve jumped at the chance to have sex again. Did he think that wasn’t on the table? Because that was very much on the table. If he told you to pull over and get in the backseat, you would. There hadn’t been another car on this stretch of road in nearly ten minutes.

Perhaps he had deliveries to make. It was Saturday night, after all.

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said, giving him an open look. “I get it if you’ve got plans or whatever. I can take you home.”

Ahead, leaden clouds gathered. A storm was settling in. If he were to make deliveries tonight, he would get soaked...

-

Eddie hoped it wasn’t obvious he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It probably was, though. You had a glow. Your eyes shone in the midday light, lips still puffy. There might be prettier girls out there, but they couldn’t compare to your radiance.

No one had kissed him like you kissed him. You made him feel like his thoughts had been put in a blender. He felt invincible yet defenseless, accepted yet under scrutiny, but most of all treasured.

He didn’t know if that was normal. His parents hadn’t seemed to treasure each other. He thought Wayne loved him. He loved Wayne. His flock looked to him for guidance. His bandmates treated him as an equal. None of that compared to what he felt for you.

He didn’t know if he liked it, honestly. It disrupted everything. You’d occupied his thoughts before this. Now, he feared, you would dominate them.

Then what would happen when you discovered he was trailer trash?

You’d feel sorry for him, that’s what. Oh, poor Eddie living in a one-bedroom trailer with his uncle.

Fuck that. Fuck pity. And fuck fearing heartbreak.

Fear was the mindkiller.

The look you gave him begged him not to hide even as you rolled back your offer of another night together. He didn’t know how long you’d think that. It didn’t matter, either. That wasn’t up to him, however much he wished it were. You weren’t a character in a campaign.

“No, no plans,” he said as he scrubbed damp palms on his thighs.

“Oh, okay, well... I can still take you home.”

The first heavy drop of rain pinged on the roof.

“Wayne can pick me up from the park.”

“Eddie, it’s starting to rain.”

He knew that. He could see the freckled pavement and how dark clouds obscured the sun.

You turned on the headlights, saying, “It’s no big deal.”

Big deal or not, he’d look like a crazy person if he insisted you leave him at the park. In the middle of a storm. With no ride waiting for him.

He had to be strategic here.

“No, let’s go to your house,” he said. “I’ll give Wayne a call when we get in.”

You nodded.

“If that’s what you want.” You gave him a sweet smile. “I just want to spend more time with you.”

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t deny you. Not when you said adorable shit like that. Not when you were the first person to say anything like that to him. Not when the possibility of having you all to himself was available.

He cleared his throat, wishing he had more to drink.

“I wanna spend time with you, too.”

You looked at him again, your gaze so warm. That alone made whatever would happen in the future worth it.

Twenty minutes later, you drove past the Hawkins welcome sign. The storm let loose shortly thereafter. Instead of continuing east, you turned into the older section of Loch Nora, where brick houses sat back from the road and the utility lines were buried. Eddie’s spidey senses started tingling. He tried to recall ever having driven through this part of the neighborhood and found a vague sense of familiarity.

Richie Riches liked their nose candy, after all.

The wipers sloshed across the windshield. Beyond the windows, rain melted the light and blurred architecture. It didn’t change his awareness of how out of his element he was.

He wondered how he hadn’t noticed you were a rich girl. He’d been mindless to the Munson Doctrine, because ladies — especially pretty, smart, funny, rich girls — shit, he was screwed — like you were out of his league. It all made sense, too: moving from New York, the expensive cigarettes, your gently used car — which had probably been a parent’s — and your lack of a part-time job. You’d offered to buy drinks for his bandmates at The Hideout. You’d paid for the motel room, gas, and snacks. You hadn’t even blinked at prices or told him to put food back at the convenience store.

You turned onto a circular driveway. Ivy climbed the side of a sprawling red-brick house. An old oak grew nearby, its golden leaves scattered over the manicured grass. Eddie tried not to gawk at the three-car garage tucked to the side as you hit the door-opener remote.

The garage could accommodate his entire trailer.

There were two open bays, and you pulled in next to a glossy maroon sedan.

“Well, this is me,” you said, and turned off the car.

As nonchalantly as he could, he said, “Nice.”

“If you want, you can call your uncle.” You pointed to the interior door. “Phone’s in the kitchen next to the fridge.”

“No, I’ll help.”

“Oh, cool, thanks. I need to check the mail. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and began gathering the food wrappers and empty drinks into a plastic bag. You left the driver’s door open before dashing to the mailbox. He shook the car’s ashtray into the bag, looked at the tidy garage, and cursed. He was so out of his element, beyond the edges of the map.

Here be dragons.

Here be the loaded.

Who were about as dangerous as dragons.

He hadn’t realized he’d stilled until you returned and closed the garage door. To act normal, he continued gathering until there was nothing more to gather. He shouldered his duffle and carried the plastic bag, following you into the house—

Which smelled of citrus and laundry detergent. The tile floor gleamed under the kitchen lights. Everything was so clean and proper and spacious. Floofy valences capped the windows. Paneled appliances blended with the cabinetry. The refrigerator had a built-in icemaker.

Your voice pulled him from touching the lever for ice.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you thirsty?” you asked — again.

“No, I’m good.” He glanced around, looking for the trashcan. “Need to throw this away,” he said as he swung the plastic bag.

“Yeah, of course!”

You took it to the sink cabinet, where you pulled out an under-counter trashcan. He watched your ass, but averted his gaze before you turned to him. The blinking 02 of the phone’s answering machine caught his attention.

He thumbed at it, and asked, “You want to check those?”

With a sigh, you dropped your bags on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“I guess I better.”

The first message was from your mother, dated yesterday at 4:18 PM. She reported they’d arrived without a hitch. With excitement growing in her voice, she said they were having dinner with Jerry Springer. However, she was concerned you weren’t home and gave the phone number and address of the hotel. The second message was from a telemarketer.

You grinned.

“She gave me all that before they left. I’ll talk to her after you call your uncle.” You bit your lip as you looked around. “Do you want to get settled first?”

“Up to you, milady.”

“C’mon, I’m on the third floor,” you said as you plucked your bags from the island.

“Your tower.”

With a laugh, you asked, “Ah, but am I a wizard or a spider?”

“Well, neither’s as hot as you, so there a third option?”

You hummed as you turned off the kitchen light. “You tell me.”

Only your silhouette was discernible in the gray murk, as though you were made of shadow. There was something mysterious and alluring about that. It made him want to reach into the darkness to feel what reached back. Rain drummed against the windows, tapping a persistent rhythm and softening the edges of the silence.

“Siren,” he said. “Definitely a siren.”

You blew a laugh through your nose as you stepped closer. “What does that make you?”

He thought, A sucker, a sailor, yours, ensnared.

He said, “I’ll get back to you about that.”

“Please do.”

You were now near enough to touch, so he did. He cupped your cheek, his thumb skirting the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted, and he couldn’t stop himself from caressing the curve of your bottom lip. Your beautiful eyes gleamed like glass.

He couldn’t believe you let him touch.

You leaned in and tilted your face to his. Your overnight bag nudged his leg, setting off a chain-reaction of memories. He’d kissed you in public. He’d shared a high with you. He’d lain next to you in a foreign bed. He’d chased you, caught you, and carried you back to that same bed — where you’d clawed at him and moaned his name and came on his dick.

He could have that again.

He met you midway, kissing you once, twice. He tasted smoky clove and soda on your tongue, smelled the rain in your hair. It was addictive. He wanted more. He dropped his duffle to snake an arm around your waist and pull you even closer. You swayed against him before dropping your bags. Your hand slid under his jacket, pushing away his previous uncertainty.

After a long, heady moment, you broke the kiss with a sigh. Your hand remained on his back while the other held the side of his neck.

Voice low, you said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Staying just as low, he said, “Yeah, call your parents, and I’ll call my uncle.”

“And then...”

You shrugged.

“And then,” he agreed.

He didn’t know what then, but he wanted to find out. He grabbed his duffle and your overnight bag from the floor, which you thanked him for. You led the way through the shadowy house to the grand staircase in the foyer. With your back turned, he let himself finally gawk.

Outside the kitchen, the floors were dark hardwood with lighter area rugs to define the spaces. The living room had a big-screen TV tucked into a corner with a velvet modular sofa oriented towards it. In the dining room, an honest-to-God crystal chandelier hung above the large table.

The second floor was as cushy with thick carpet and tasteful art. Not a family photo to be found. You pointed out your bathroom before opening the door next to it and flicking a switch at the foot of the stairs beyond. Golden light brightened the white stairwell.

He climbed the stairs behind you as the automatic door closer fizzed the door shut. He’d half-expected your bedroom walls to be some dark, moody color, yet they were white. However, posters covered most of the white, much like his own—

Though your room smelled better than his.

You clicked on the lamp by your big bed and on the dresser across the room before setting your purse on the desk under the wide window. His eye caught on the stereo cabinet between the dresser and double bookcase. He itched to peruse your vinyl and tape collection. You must’ve seen it on his face, because you smiled and gave him free rein.

“You sure?” he asked, dropping the bags near the bed.

“Yeah, go for it,” you said. “I’ll call my mom while you shop.”

He checked the time on the bedside clock. It was early afternoon despite it looking almost night outside. Wayne wouldn’t be awake for another hour.

“Cool.”

He crouched in front of the cabinet as you slipped off your jacket and sat at the desk, where a phone waited at the corner. He concentrated on the music in front of him while you talked on the phone. There was Bowie, classic Zeppelin and Rolling Stones, Deep Purple, INXS, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Cocteau Twins, Depeche Mode, Sisters of Mercy (of course), Bauhaus, Metallica, Dio, and a bunch of indie goth bands.

Your voice sharpened, catching his attention.

“I told you I forgot to check the messages when I got home from school,” you said.

A male voice snapped through the phone. Obviously, your father.

“I stopped by the convenience store after school.”

Your father replied, though Eddie couldn’t make out the words.

“No, I wasn’t being irresponsible.” You rested your forehead in your hand. “I just didn’t check the mess—”

Your father interrupted, his voice getting sterner.

“Apologize to Mom for me, plea—” You took a deep breath as he interrupted again. “No, I didn’t—”

Your father said something to make you shoot to your feet, chair scraping across the floor.

Eddie straightened and took a step to you.

“I didn’t sigh,” you said. “I breathed. I do that sometimes, like—”

Your father’s voice became louder as he cut you off, ending the scathing reprimand with a ‘young lady.’ A panicked feminine voice said something in the background.

You were quiet for a beat.

Your voice was thick as you said, “I’m sorry. I was stupid and didn’t take you or Mom into account. I apologize, sir. Sincerely. It won’t happen again.”

Your father grumbled, sounding appeased.

“I’ll see you tomorrow— Yes, sir.” You nodded. “Good night, sir.” You slammed the phone’s handset on its base. “Asshole.”

“You okay?” he asked, which he belatedly realized was dumb.

Of course, you weren’t okay.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, ducking your head. “Call your uncle, if you want.”

You darted around him, too quick to stop, and rushed down the stairs to leave him gaping like a fish.

As the door shut, he didn’t know if he should follow. Maybe you needed a minute to yourself. When things were rough for him, he preferred to handle the aftermath alone. It gave him privacy to get his shit together.

He picked up the phone’s handset to call Wayne, which should give you enough time.

Instead of a dial tone, there was a garbled, muddy babble. It wasn’t words, per se. It was rhythmic, like a busy signal, but also an echo of language. Or a backwards phrase repeated.

“What the hell?”

He hung up and tried again, yet the babble remained. He pressed the hook switch a few times, though it didn’t solve the problem. Unplugging and re-plugging the phone didn’t help, either.

With a huff, he slung his jacket over the desk chair and went to the second floor to find you. A wedge of light from your open bathroom door illuminated the landing. You whined a curse and banged a small bottle against the side of the faucet.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said gently and reached for the bottle. “Let me.”

“Fucking childproof caps.” You stilled as your chin wobbled. You looked at the ceiling with watery eyes. “My head is killing me.”

He withdrew the bottle from your limp hand. It was a nonprescription painkiller. He lined up the triangle notches on the cap and bottle and popped it open.

“I should’ve taken something when we first got in.”

“You’ve had a headache this whole time?” he asked and shook three pills into his palm.

You croaked a ‘yeah’ and took the pills, putting them on your tongue and swallowing them with a mouthful of tap water.

At a loss for words, he put the bottle aside and pulled you into a hug. You rested your hot cheek on him and looped your arms around his middle. Your chest shuddered with sharp inhales. He rubbed your back, wondering why he hadn’t noticed you weren’t feeling well earlier.

Probably because he’d been too in his head about his insecurities and the possibility of future disasters.

“Dads are dicks,” you said once your breathing calmed.

He grunted in agreement. “Tell me about it.”

“He’s so concerned about me embarrassing him — embarrassing him more. Or doing something, I don’t know, just for me?”

Your father sounded like a controlling asshat.

“You’re not embarrassing. You’re the coolest person I know.”

Voice small, you asked, “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

You gave him an affectionate squeeze that he returned.

He said, “You missed a phone call. It happens all the time.”

“Yeah.”

“I can sleep through the phone ringing.”

“You’ve never missed my calls.”

“Of course not. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

You snorted. “Naturally.”

“Naturally.” He swayed you a little. “Uh, speaking of: your phone’s acting up.”

“Acting up?”

“Yeah, dial tone’s weird.”

“Huh.” You loosened your hold, yet kept your face tilted down. “It’s a new phone. Maybe I broke it.”

“I can use the kitchen phone,” he said.

“No!” You hugged him again, though your fingers now dug into his back. “No, it’s okay. I’ll fix it or replace it. Then you call your uncle while I get us something to drink.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

“Hey, whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You sighed, sounding content. Tension drained from his neck and shoulders. He didn’t like you upset or in pain.

“Okay, phone,” you said despite not moving.

“Gonna have to let go of me first.”

You made a disgruntled sound before sliding your hands away. Your fingertips found his skin between his waistband and the hem of his shirt. Goosebumps rose at your easy caress. His gut tightened, too.

He leaned back to get his hands on your jaw and eased your head up for a kiss. Conscious of your headache, he stayed gentle. He brushed his lips across yours, nudged your cute nose with his. You grinned against his mouth. He opened his eyes to see your face relaxed.

Sounding dreamy, you whispered, “Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have.” You looked into his eyes as you pulled away. “You have.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he said, grinning.

With a smile — a tired smile, he noted — you took his hand to walk him out of the bathroom, turning off the light as you went. He trailed after you and felt like a puppy. Granted, if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Once in your room, you crawled under your desk to mess with the phone wall jack. You muttered to yourself, but he didn’t catch the words. He sat at the foot of your bed and stared at your upturned ass. It was a nice ass. He’d like to touch it again — maybe when you felt better.

You shuffled from under the desk and lifted the phone’s headset. The regular dial tone droned from the speaker.

“There,” you said and got to your feet.

“Wow.”

“You sound surprised. Like a girl can’t fix things.”

He held up his hands.

“No, that’s not—”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle it?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with humor as you approached.

At your teasing manner, he spread his knees and urged you close by the hips.

“Oh, baby, I know you can handle a lot.”

You bit your lip, looking pleased, and smoothed his hair from his face. He let out a deep breath, letting his eyes go half-mast. You yawned suddenly and covered your mouth, then wiped at an eye. It smudged your eyeliner a little, yet it hardly mattered. You were perfect and sweet.

“Sorry,” you said as you suppressed another yawn.

He turned his head to bury his own yawn in his shoulder.

“Want to take a nap?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Get in bed, then. I think I can figure out where you keep the drinks.”

“Call your uncle.”

“I will, sweetheart.”

He backed you up, stood, and gave you a quick kiss. You made a satisfied sound before kissing him again.

His heart couldn’t take this. It absolutely couldn’t. You were so adorable when sleepy. And he wanted to make you feel good any way you needed, any way you’d let him. He’d make you tea, fetch you extra blankets, rub your back, fork over his whole damn stash. Fucking anything. Anything.

He left you perched on the bed with the assurance he’d be right back. He made a pit stop in the bathroom to pee and wash his hands. In the kitchen, he found Capri-Suns in the fridge and grabbed a couple.

By the time he returned, you’d turned off most of the bedroom lights and were sitting in bed. He dumped the Capri-Suns on your nightstand save for one, stabbed the straw into the pouch, and gave it to you.

You thanked him and snuggled into the pillows.

He snatched a Capri-Sun for himself and turned away before he did something ill-advised, like kiss you too hard or propose marriage or worm between the sheets and yank your underwear off and eat you out until you cried. Maybe all three.

Instead, he drank his juice while calling Wayne, who sounded as if he’d been awake for a while. Wayne didn’t seem surprised when Eddie said he was at yours and would stay the night. Wayne asked for your number in case of an emergency. He recited it from memory.

Wayne reminded him to use protection.

He sputtered and averted his face as heat crawled up his neck.

He then cleared his throat before saying, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Good. No mini-Munsons just yet.”

“No, not yet.”

“Alright, kiddo, keep that thinkin’ cap on, and I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“‘Kay.”

Wayne ended the call, and he placed the phone’s handset on its cradle.

“Your uncle sounds nice,” you said.

“He’s a good guy.” He sat at the desk to slip off his boots. “Took me in when no one else would.”

“Their loss.”

He looked at you, finding you curled on your side and watching him.

“That’s what he said.”

You gave him a wry grin.

He remembered ‘two idiots, one thought,’ and grinned.

After stuffing his socks into a boot, he stood to undo his belt and unclasp his wallet chain. He lay his wallet on your desk and piled his jewelry on top, feeling your gaze the entire time. He draped his belt over the chair, turned off the last light, and came around the bed.

As he lifted the blanket, you rolled onto your back and asked:

“Aren’t you going to take off your jeans?”

“Do you want me to take them off?”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

With a shrug, he said, “I’m comfortable.”

“Eddie... I’ve seen your legs before.”

“And a whole lot more.”

“Yeah, so take them off and get in here.”

“Yes, milady.”

He left his jeans in a heap on the floor and slid under the blanket. It was already warm and smelled like you: your soap and shampoo, your perfume and musk, your laundry detergent, and that dark headshop scent. The sheets were soft as only fine cotton could be. The pillows were fluffy like his hadn’t been in years. He hardly needed to adjust anything.

You asked, “Comfy?”

“Almost.”

Your brows pinched.

“Almost?”

“Back to me,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

You gave a little nod, the corners of your mouth curling up, and faced away. He closed the short distance to mould himself against your back; a hand on your hip with his other arm crooked under his pillow. You stiffened, yet didn’t protest.

“This okay?” he whispered.

“Mm-hm.”

Little by little, you relaxed and adjusted your legs. He matched your even breathing until his eyelids became heavy.

He’d never held someone. He’d been to sleepovers and slept next to friends, but this was different. Last night he’d stayed close, but hadn’t held you — though he’d yearned to. He hadn’t wanted to spook you, as if you’d realize who he was, remember what you’d done with him, and flee in disgust.

But this? This felt right. You were warm and soft against his front. You fit him.

.

A crash of thunder jolted him awake. He lifted his head to look around. The room was still dim from the storm. You weren’t in bed, which he didn’t approve of. You stood in front of the dresser, hanging a necklace on the jewelry stand.

You met his gaze in the mirror.

“Hi, honey.”

He wiped at his face with a groan.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy. “What time is it?”

You glanced at the nightstand and reported it was 5:32.

He grunted and flopped onto his back. “How long you been awake?”

“Maybe ten minutes?”

You wore a new pair of pajama pants under the t-shirt you’d napped in. They were cute. You were cute. He wanted to wrap his arms around you.

“Come back to bed,” he said as he scratched his stomach through his shirt.

“I need to finish unpacking.”

He rose onto his elbows as thunder rumbled.

“Did you mean come back to bed?”

“No,” you laughed.

He drew out an ‘I don’t know’ and knee-walked to the foot of the bed.

You spun to face him, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I need to unpack, sir.”

“That sounded a lot like ‘take me to bed.’”

He planted one foot on the floor and rose from the bed.

“Those don’t even have the same amount of words,” you said.

“I guess I have a bad ear for that.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

As he prowled to you, he asked, “You calling me a liar?”

“No, I think you knock your own talents when it suits you.”

“Oh, ouch, sweetheart,” he said, and put his hands on your hips to back you against the dresser. “You wound me.”

You attempted to hide your smirk and asked, “Should I kiss it better?” while bracing your hands on the dresser.

Though he’d been sleeping next to you, he hadn’t gotten to touch you enough. He pushed himself against you, making you arch. Your breasts pressed against him.

“Later.”

His dick grew heavy, and he bent to kiss your covered chest. He worked his way up until he reached your neck.

You softly groaned with a tilt of your head.

You were his now — with no one to interrupt. Your skin was his to taste — and he did. He kissed the salt from your skin, trailed his teeth down the cord of muscle at the side of your neck.

You fisted his hair and brought his mouth to yours. Your lips smeared across his, your tongue peeked out, tasting of Capri-Sun’s fruit punch. He could devour you whole like this. His hips copied the back and forth of the kiss. God, his dick felt strained and hot between his legs.

You began to slide onto the dresser top, but he stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. “Turn around.”

Barely giving you enough room, you turned in his hold, rubbing against his front. His gut tightened. He caged you in with his arms and nosed around your hair to kiss your neck again. You smelled so good, like sleep and spice.

He looked at the mirror to see you biting your lip and watching him. He straightened, keeping his front to your back. His erection snugged into the cleft of your ass.

You rested against him, looking more alluring than he’d ever seen you.

He murmured a ‘fuck’ and slid his hands up your sides, catching your flimsy t-shirt as he went.

“You wearing a bra, baby?”

You shook your head, making him curse lowly.

He ran his hands over the satiny skin of your stomach. Your nipples poked underneath your shirt. He stared at their reflection, remembering the feel of your tits in his hands and against his face, the way your nipples jabbed at his palms. He needed to refresh his memory, needed to brand the feel of your flesh in his hands.

When he cupped your tits, you inhaled. He stroked your warm skin with gentle fingertips, kneaded the supple weight of your breasts, then grazed his thumbs over your peaked nipples. Your ribs undulated gracefully with your breathing; so alive and all his.

You arched into his touch, putting your hands on his forearms. He squeezed your nipples and rolled them just a little. You moaned and ground your ass against him.

He ground back, moving counter to you. The inside of his boxers rubbed at his length. Precome made the thin cotton stick to the tip of his dick.

“Eddie...” you whined as you canted your ass.

“How’s the headache?”

“Gone.”

Before he could reply, you nudged him to the side and spun to face him. You steadied his head by the jaw to kiss him hard. It was like you wanted to eat his soul. You kissed him with tongue and teeth and spit. He held onto your bare back, because his knees trembled. He hoped you couldn’t tell. Your lips were perfect. Your skin was warm and soft. He wouldn’t mind if this was all you two did for the rest of the night.

Your hands left his jaw, and you broke the kiss to say, “Want you.”

His gut tightened again.

“Where?” he asked as he swept his hands down to your ass.

You pulled up at his shirt until he had to lift his arms. You tugged the shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

Cooler air cleared his head, but then you ran your hands over his shoulders and into his hair. He kissed you, feeling breathless and buzzing, vibrating like a tuning fork. Your parted lips lured him closer — that siren status confirmed.

You touched him from neck to chest to stomach to the waistband of his underwear. The moment dilated as anticipation increased. He wanted to roll his hips to get you to touch his cock.

Instead, you went to your knees.

He slapped a hand on the dresser to steady himself. Because holy shit. No one had ever— But you were— And, holy shit, he was going to come so fast.

“Okay?” you asked, as if you didn’t look like a wet dream.

He nodded numbly.

You kissed above his bellybutton, nuzzled his stomach, caressed his hips and sides. He lurched forward when you squeezed his ass. His cock bumped your chest, sending a ripple of sensation down to his toes. You palmed him through his boxers to make his knees tremble anew. He thrust into your hand and bit his lip. The muffled touch was enough to weaken him further.

You crooked your fingers under his boxers’ waistband to ease them down his thighs. His erection flopped out, almost hitting you in the cheek like some gangly appendage. He whispered an apology, but you replied it was okay. You called him honey, and he had to swallow a groan.

With gentle hands, you helped him step out of his boxers. Then he was naked save for his sole necklace. You purred and ran your hands up his thighs. He got harder, which seemed impossible, and the room heated — or he was so hot, he couldn’t feel it anymore. Your touch practically seared him.

You moved in to lick the precome now dribbling down the length of his cock. He put a hand on your shoulder to balance himself. It was a shock how good it felt: the velvety texture of your tongue and the tease of your breath ghosting over his dick.

You then steadied his cock with fingers around the base and wrapped your mouth around the tip. He moaned at the heat, the way you burned him with muggy, hot suction. You tongued at the crown as you twisted your head. Your spit-wet lips clasped around his girth. The head of his cock slid along the hard roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back.

If he thrust, you’d gag and sputter. He didn’t want you retching. He didn’t want you to stop.

He rocked with you, and that had you moaning. He kept tight control of his movements, only nudging the same place of your soft palate.

“This what you want?” he asked. “Want me to fill your pretty mouth?”

He’d fantasized about doing it, too. He imagined how your cheeks would hollow as you sucked, how you’d hold his driving hips, how you’d take every inch of him.

You hummed an affirmative before fisting the base of his cock. He rolled his pelvis forward as you closed your eyes. Your smothered groan reverberated through him, making it difficult to keep it slow and easy.

Shit, he loved the way his cock pumped into your mouth again and again. Saliva drenched your chin. Your hand on his hip pulled him forward, urging him to thrust faster despite his intentions. You sucked and lapped, getting him all slick.

“You’re gonna make me come...”

You moaned an agreement.

He stilled his hips and gripped the nape of your neck.

“Shit, wanna fuck you.”

Because he did. He wanted inside your sweet pussy once more. He couldn’t get enough.

You moaned again and met his gaze. He couldn’t stop from shifting his hips, teasing you both. You whined around his dick, and he nearly forgot his earlier desire.

“So good to me.”

You sucked harder and pushed your tongue on the underside of his dick. It made his eyes roll back. It was so perfect, so good, he could lose himself and spill down your throat.

But, no... No—

He pulled your head away with a gasp, back hunched. Your mouth remained open, a thin string of spittle connected your bottom lip with this cock. Beyond that, the neckline of your t-shirt sat askew on your heaving chest. He wanted to shove himself in your hot mouth until your nose met his stomach, or to fuck your tits — or your tight pussy.

Shit, whatever.

He wanted you so bad.

As he caught his breath, you flicked your tongue out to taste him one more time.

He inhaled through his nose.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

You licked your swollen lips with a nod. Your eyes were huge and glassy, drunk on him. He pulled you up as he bent to meet in the middle for a sloppy kiss. The spit and precome on his dick smeared across his stomach. He wiped at the saliva on your chin and fed it back to you.

“So sweet, baby.”

You mewled around his fingers in reply.

He hoisted you to your feet and kissed your talented lips. You stumbled a bit against him, knees obviously numb and stiff, and held onto his shoulders. He shushed you, wrapped an arm around your waist, and cradled your warm cheek.

“I got you,” he said.

You nodded, saying, “Take me to bed.”

He grinned, which you returned.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, and walked you backwards to the bed.

Once there, he turned you around, urged you up, and told you to bend. Your pajama pants hid your ass and thighs, but your t-shirt slid up your back to expose the feminine curve of your torso. He swept his hand down your spine. You lowered your chest to the bed, your ass jutted out to graze his cock. He took hold of your hips and ground himself against you.

“Eddie...”

He grabbed the globes of your ass to knead them. You hummed and wiggled. Then he gave one cheek a grazing smack. You gasped as your flesh jiggled.

“Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Do it again.”

And he did.

You groaned softly and shimmied to encourage him to continue. However, he didn’t want to get distracted. He felt the heat between your legs and needed more. He pulled your pants and underwear to your knees, then kissed the small of your back.

With a shaky, needful voice, you said, “Please, don’t make me wait.”

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

You breathed a laugh.

He smoothed his hands up your thighs to frame your ass. He could eat you up, you looked so delicious. Your skin was so fine. He kissed one cheek, then the other.

You made a small, desperate sound. In response, he nosed at the crease where your leg met ass. He breathed in the heady scent of your arousal and musk. It had his pelvis flexing, cock twitching.

You arched to push against his face. He spread your tender pussy to see it all flushed and wet.

“Sucking my cock got you so worked up.”

You froze.

He said, “God, that’s fucking hot,” and dragged his tongue between the glistening folds of your pussy.

You moaned.

He licked up to the little furl of your asshole. Your breath hitched. He did it over and over, licking all your holes. You ground against his mouth, trying to get more. He angled your hips, tucked his face between your legs, and swirled his tongue around the petite bud of your clit.

You gasped a few ‘please’s and his name, but he didn’t want to stop. He sucked on your clit, its hood. You spread your legs as far as your pants would allow and tried to ride his face.

“Eddie, c’mon! Please—!”

You muffled the rest in the mattress.

He pulled away, and you moaned with disappointment.

“What was that?” he asked before swallowing the salty-sweet taste of you.

“Please, I...”

“Whatever you want.”

“Please fuck me.”

He cursed loudly as a surge of pleasure raced down his spine. He clenched every muscle below his bellybutton to keep from coming right there. Resting his forehead on your ass, he breathed through the near miss.

When the surge abated, he scrambled for a condom. He told you to hang on as he tore through his duffle to find the condom box. In the meantime, you snuck a hand between your legs to play with your clit.

He almost came again at the sight.

At this rate, he was skittering into two-pump-chump territory.

Holy shit, don’t think of pumping.

He found a condom, ripped it open, and rolled it on — all the while thinking of roadkill and long division and the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink. He then took hold of your pants and underwear, tugging at them and sending you forward.

You meeped, yet squirmed to help undress from the waist down.

He tossed the clothes away, crawled over your prone body, and settled above you. With his dick nestled right against your sopping pussy, he rocked his hips. He couldn’t help himself — especially not when you rocked back. You were slick and hot and so ready.

He mouthed at your neck. The bite of your sweat added to the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue.

He realized then your rocking had a purpose: you were attempting to catch the tip of his dick. You made a tiny distressed sound as you continued to fail.

He shushed you. “I got you.”

“Want you.”

“Me too, baby.”

He reached between your bodies to angle his cock just right. You tilted your hips at the same time. It felt like wild magic to push inside you with one long stroke. Your cunt was tight and silky hot around him. He let his head fall forward with a groan. You quivered under him as though on the verge of orgasm.

He kissed and nibbled his way up your neck until reaching your ear. He sucked on the lobe and kissed the corner of your jaw.

“Eddie...”

“You ready?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Talk to me, baby.” He kissed your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me. I want it.” Your cunt squeezed around him, and he couldn’t tell if it was voluntary. “Take me, make me come.”

His stomach swooped. Your words spurred him on. He drew out just enough before letting the full weight of his lower half drop. You panted a ‘yes’ and braced. He set a punishing pace, fucking you in earnest. The clutch of your cunt had him losing himself to the rhythm. He didn’t care, not minding to drown in you.

You buried your face in the mattress, muting your growing moans. He needed to hear you, though. He gripped your neck and tilted your head back. You tensed with a startled gasp and clawed at the bedding.

He’d felt you tense like that before and knew what it meant.

“Gonna come, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t stop!”

He ignored the burn in his muscles as he hammered his cock deep. You struggled under him, breath ragged, ass grinding. Then you let out a sharp cry. You shook against him, shrieking curses as your cunt quivered and gushed around him.

With a growl, he cupped your jaw to keep your head against his shoulder. He pistoned his hips faster and harder. You rasped out a stunned, drawn-out ‘fuck’ as your orgasm continued to unravel. Your scalding, drenched cunt milked him until it started to be too much.

He couldn’t catch his breath as every muscle locked up. Ecstasy simmered at the base of his spine, growing hotter with each clap of his hips meeting yours. It was a staccato beat to his groans. Then it all boiled over. He gritted his teeth and threw back his head as climax poured out of him. He felt scalded from the inside out.

All that remained was his singed heart beating out the syllables of your name.

He sagged on his elbows and lay his damp face on your rucked t-shirt. There were probably things he needed to say or do now, but he couldn’t remember them. He didn’t think he could form words between his harsh breathing.

Your soothing fingers touched his cheek, his temple. He turned his head to kiss them.

When his erection started flagging, he held the condom and pulled out slowly. You gave a wordless protest, yet didn’t stop him from rolling onto his back beside you. He should tie off the condom and dispose of it. He knew that. However, he didn’t want to look away.

In the mottled light from the window, your skin shone with sweat, your hair was in disarray — no doubt like his — and your eyeliner was a mess.

With no small amount of pride, he privately admitted he enjoyed being the cause of that.

You met his eyes and smiled lazily as rain pelted the glass.

He took your limp hand and pulled it. You grumbled, but scooted closer to rest against his side.

“Goddamn,” he said. “Thanks for that.”

You laughed, “You’re welcome,” and put an arm around his middle.

“Want to order a pizza?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

[atopvisenyashill]

everyone’s been talking about “what if lyanna had survived” and to be honest my stance is “ned is forced to go to war with robert.”

everything we know about Lyanna’s willfulness and “wolf blood” makes me severely doubt she would be willing to marry Robert OR be parted from her son after Ned rescued her from the Tower of Joy. It’s not just that Robert’s idealism of her and temper will be much worse after the war, but that she has been through hell trying to get away from him, and she likely understands he’s now a threat to her son. At odds with that is the fact that short of Lyanna publically humiliating him or a maester declaring she can’t have more kids, Robert is not gonna put her aside. her best bet is that she can’t have more kids bc it frees her from Robert. however, there’s still the problem of Jon.

Because again - i don’t think it’s likely Lyanna would want to be parted from him! I know nobles often don’t raise their bastards but the one two punch of “a war accidentally started in part because Lyanna ran away and had Jon” and “her brother and father died attempting to rescue her and all the Targs are dead now too” PLUS the possibility that she knows something about why Rhaegar wanted a third child, it just makes me highly, HIGHLY doubtful she is letting him out of her sight. And while Robert can be talked into not murdering babies, Ned is not likely to be in the frame of mind to talk Robert into not murdering his nephew.

And that’s best case ie “Lyanna can’t have more kids and the lords pressure Robert to take another wife” - which, I think is kinda likely, honestly? Howland is dedicated to Lyanna (and I think Ashara and the Daynes know All About Jon, but you don’t even need their help, really) and would be more than willing to help cover up shit, as we already know. If Ned says they should tell Robert it was a stillbirth and then they can get married, and Lyanna says “I’m STILL not marrying your dickhead bestie, Ned” I do think Ned is going to try to get her out of it. He’s already sympathetic to her issues pre-kidnapping, adding all this trauma on yhere, he’s gonna give it The Old Eddard Try which means hardcore and secretive - just have a Maester declare her incapable. Howland (or Ashara) offer to hide Jon while they deal with breaking the engagement, and maybe Lyanna is okay with this initially, but eventually she’s turning to Ned and going “i want my fuckin kid back” and the Daynes/Howland just can’t have this random Stark looking baby running around forever, someone is gonna find out and then…what lyanna hides in essos with jon until robert chills out? they stay in winterfell while robert sulks in anger in KL and hope he doesn’t realize Jon is her’s? it’s risky as fuck.

and that’s IF he’s talked into giving her up. again, i think it’s unlikely ned rocks up with lyanna with zero plan to get her back to winterfell safe with him, but if they can’t convince robert to set her aside, lyanna is stuck in the capital, parted from her baby, forced to have robert’s baby, and that’s not a situation lyanna is gonna take lying down. feels less likely benjen goes to the wall in this scenario; he may very well opt to stay with lyanna to protect her, and the north has a bigger presence in KL to watch over their girl, but Tywin is still there jockeying for power and LF is still going to show up wanting to fuck things for his grand plan, AND that’s not to mention Varys. So many variables and none of them are good for Lyanna.

i just feel, no matter what scenario, lyanna is not marrying robert nor giving up jon and in this specific case, a grief stricken and desperately relieved ned will fight for her. if ned can get robert to see sense and set her aside, maybe after a decade or two, lyanna and jon can come home from essos, or ned can have jon “foster” with lyanna and howland where robert can’t easily reach them. maybe lyanna gains a sort of elaena targaryen reputation, where the dubiously consensual relationship she had with a targ that resulted in a son is seen as a thing of a past, a silly mistake a young girl made, and she marries later in life to a man of her choosing. or maybe not, because elaena didn’t have viserys plumm and the waters kids hanging around her at every moment while lyanna will still have jon around. and a jon raised in such a volatile environment is very likely to be protective of his mother.

idk. it’s complicated and sad, is the answer. as they say in the books, ned loved jon’s mother very much. he has faults, and he has very big issues with misogyny that are sometimes glossed over, but i do believe that when pushed, ned would have fought for lyanna’s independence after the tower of joy, and it’s going to bring him into conflict with robert big time. all his anger over robert’s approval of the slaughter of elia, rhaenys, and aegon are going to collide with his habit of sacrificing his honor to save his family much sooner than it does in the books.

#valyrianscrolls #lyanna stark #ned stark #robert baratheon #getting on my soap box #is just my two cents on the whole thing #jon snow

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 31

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is an Adult, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Two Morons Trying to Try Their Best, Borrowing Characters

Author's Note: I cannot overstate how self-indulgent the writing of this chapter has been. I absolutely adore it and I hope you do, as well!

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Chapter 31

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The flight from New Amsterdam to California would take fourteen hours. When booking, Stephen had paid for one of the airship's coveted private cabins, wanting both the convenience and to ensure Peter would have fond memories of his first time on one of the zeppelins he was so interested in.

Peter's excitement over finally getting to ride in a zeppelin had been apparent all week. He was less excited about the need to wake up at three in the morning so they could make it to the hangar in Upper York and fly out at five in the morning. Even with Stephen making sure the Buick was loaded the night before, there was still a feeling of being rushed which neither of them enjoyed.

"You are insufferable when you're cranky from lack of sleep," Stephen told him while driving.

"I've been told," Peter said through a yawn. "Sorry about that. My Aunt May hated trying to wake me up."

"When we board, the flight staff will have their safety presentation that we'll have to sit through. Then, you'll have the chance to sleep in the cabin once we're airborne and stable." He'd sat through the safety lecture many times.

"And you'll make sure I don't sleep the whole time?"

"It's a fourteen hour flight; you'll be awake for the majority of it, I promise."

Peter nodded and dozed off with his head against the window.

He roused Peter once they pulled into the parking garage for the hangar and they made their way to the security checkpoint where their tickets and identification was checked. The attendant at the counter frowned at him when he provided Peter's identification but passed them through.

"What was that about?" Peter asked.

Ah. Peter had noticed.

"I believe she took exception with the fact that your identification was issued by the Bureau and that I'm a selecting spouse."

That had Peter offering up a frown of his own. "Well, that's just dumb," he said. "Lots of people have BCSS marriages."

Was he reading too much into Peter's words? Or was Peter just still grumpy from lack of sleep?

"Luckily a sour expression was all we had to deal with," he soothed. "And her sour expression is basically a smile compared to the charge nurse at Sanctum General's ER."

Peter grinned. "You've made Nurse Temple angry before, haven't you?"

"Only once. It wasn't on purpose, and I've learned to tread carefully since," he admitted. He'd rather swallow rocks than risk incurring Nurse Temple's wrath again. Her ire had not been fun to be the recipient of and she had a stressful enough job as it was.

"Aw, he's human just like the rest of us!"

"You're such a brat."

Tired as he was, Peter looked around the bustling hangar - one of eight on the edge of Upper York - with interest. He'd been here once before, but he'd been too excited about meeting Tony Stark! to pay much attention in and around the massive structure. The zeppelin he and Stephen would be flying out on was the third ship to leave the assigned hangar that morning. There was a fourth airship behind them.

Peter knew zeppelins were so much larger than many realized, but seeing the size of the passenger gondola and how it was dwarfed by the sheer size of the envelope of the ship was truly awe-inspiring. Obviously the airship was huge - the hangars were each thirty stories tall and three football pitches wide, after all - but seeing it in-person was a whole new experience. Even the mobile mooring masts that steered the zeppelins in and out of the hangars were impressive.

"This is the Cessna LTA 2-4026 model," he rattled off while they stood waiting to board. "It was officially approved to fly two years ago and so far there are thirteen hundred all over the globe, and they make up thirty percent of the zeppelins flying today."

Stephen listened patiently as they progressed through the line and up the ramp. He handed the attendant the top copy of their tickets, reserving the canary and pink copies for the lunch check during the flight and luggage retrieval once they arrived in New Angeles. Peter's excitement at something as mundane as air travel was enjoyable to witness. He himself had flown multiple times and did fine the science and grandeur of it interesting, but Peter's enthusiasm lent a new view of it all, somehow. He also found it adorable that Peter kept yawning through his recitations.

They were escorted to their cabin where they stowed their carry-ons. Stephen locked the cabin and slipped the key in the interior pocket of his blazer. Then he and Peter took two of the unassigned seats. Peter looked around, taking in every detail he could. Stephen could see him practically vibrating with the desire to move over to the side of the gondola where the windows provided a currently unimpressive view.

"You can go look once we're in the air and the flight staff have given us leave to move around."

In less than half an hour, everyone had boarded and took their seats.

A voice came on over the speakers.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Captain Seagrum and assisting me on this fourteen hour flight to New Angeles, California is Captain Ayers. We're in the process of completing our pre-flight checks and will start our steering out of the hangar once given the green light by Hangar Control. In the meantime, our dedicated flight staff will brief you on the safety procedures of this airship."

The flight staff ran through their presentation and while many of the passengers had obviously heard it before, Peter made sure to pay attention. Logically he knew where was an almost zero percent chance of a water landing, but surely knowing what would be expected was better than not knowing. What if they were forced to land on a lake and it was up to him to save everyone?

Captain Seagrum came back on the speakers after the fight staff finished. "We've been given the green light so please remain seated as we steer out of the hangar and begin our ascent."

Slowly, the zeppelin began moving through the hangar until they were steered outside where the sun was beginning to rise, painting the horizon orange and pink. There was a pause wherein Peter assumed the hangar ground crew were detaching the mooring mast and then there was the curious and gentle sensation of the ship rising.

"We are beginning our ascent, and we expect to cruise at an altitude of approximately three thousand meters."

Peter leaned into Stephen. "Cessna is currently doing research and development into pressurized gondolas. The thought is that that pressurizing will allow the zeppelins to reach higher altitudes. But if they do, they'll have to address making the shell and envelope of the ship stronger." Then he yawned, causing Stephen to chuckle.

"Looks like you'll be going down for a nap shortly," Stephen told him. When Peter opened his mouth to complain, Stephen cut him off. "You'll be awake for plenty of this flight and I'm not going to listen to you struggling to stay awake when you'll have a comfortable place to rest."

"Can I at least look out the promenade windows first?"

"Yes, of course."

The all-clear to move around the gondola was given and Peter fairly launched himself out of his seat and over to the starboard promenade area. Stephen joined him at much more dignified pace, though he enjoyed seeing Peter so excited. Peter looked out one of the floor to ceiling windows, taking in the view of what was turning out to be a magnificent New Amsterdam morning in late spring.

Stephen let Peter take in the view for a few minutes before he tried to stifle a large yawn. "Okay, to the cabin with you."

He guided Peter to their private cabin and unlocked the door.

The cabin itself held a queen bed, a small built in chest of drawers, and an armchair. There were also windows with retracting shades.

"Are you going to stay here?" Peter asked after removing his shoes, his blazer, and tie. He started unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt.

"Would like for me to stay?" Stephen asked. "And if your answer is dependent on whether or not I intend the ravish you at three thousand meters, the answer is no. The soundproofing of these cabins is quite lacking, I'm afraid. I'd rather keep your delightful noises to myself."

Peter blushed but nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. In our home is one thing, but in a public zeppelin is another."

"Precisely."

"Isn't there a dining lounge a level down?" Peter asked.

"There is."

"You should have breakfast, then," he said. "It'll be seven before long."

"Alright. I'll lock the door behind me; no one should bother you. Get some sleep and I'll wake you up in time for luncheon."

He waited until Peter drifted off and then left, doing as he said and locking the door behind him. He didn't linger in the dining lounge, content to eat a bagel with cream cheese and lox - Peter was on to something there - a small bowl of cut fruit, and wash down breakfast with a cup of coffee. His fellow passengers were even less inclined to talk at the early hour than he was so luckily, no one approached.

There wasn't much else to do but content himself with one of the books he'd brought. He chose a seat on the port side promenade and started reading. It was a medical murder thriller - one highly recommended by Clea he'd agreed to try. He found himself enjoying it tremendously, even if the man in charge of solving the gruesome and convoluted murder was no Rex Gladstone. He could even appreciate that author had clearly done her research; the doctors, nurses, and medical examiner she'd written knew their stuff. Probably an hour later, one of the flight staff pushed her cart through the promenade and Stephen accepted the offer of a cherry fizzy water and a small bag of crisps before turning his attention back to the book. He needed to know if he'd correctly guessed who the killer was and their motive.

(He was right.)

He started on another book and was half-way through it when he noticed that some of the other passengers were leaving the promenade. He checked his watch and saw that it was almost time to wake Peter.

His young husband was curled up on the bed, chest rising and falling softly. He looked so peaceful that Stephen almost hated to wake him up. However, Peter needed to eat and letting him get too much sleep before acclimating to a new time zone once they reached California would only lead to his husband being cranky, which Stephen had no desire to deal with.

He shook Peter awake gently. "Peter, it's time to wake up."

Peter's eyes fluttered open and he stretched. "It's time already?"

"They'll start serving luncheon in about thirty minutes."

Peter nodded and sat up. "There should be food I'll be able to eat, right?"

"Yes, I informed the ship line when I bought our tickets. Your canary copy has your dietary note on it."

"Oh! Great!" He started to re-button his cuffs and the top three of his shirt. He took the tie Stephen handed him and pulled it tighter after slipping it around his neck. His shoes were next and then he shrugged into the light-weight blazer. "Will I do?"

"I'll be the envy of many, for sure," Stephen said with a smile.

Peter's cheeks went pink.

"Come, I don't believe in being fashionably late."

Peter barely resisted pinching himself over the course of luncheon. He couldn't believe that he, Peter Strange, poor guy from Midtown, was actually eating a fancy luncheon on a zeppelin! He always imagined that if he ever got to take a ride on one, it would be one of the smaller commercial zeppelins, where seats were assigned and passengers only served a small snack and refreshment.

Instead he sat across from Stephen enjoying a bowl of hot tomato basil soup with a perfectly cooked grilled cheese on sourdough. There was also a bowl of fruit and his favorite brand of lemon fizzy water. Stephen's lunch was an arugula salad topped with radishes, cherry tomatoes, pine nuts, feta cheese, a balsamic vinaigrette, and sliced steak cooked to a medium rare. He forewent the offered fizzy water and instead had a glass of red wine.

"Is it good?" he asked Stephen.

"It is. Yours?"

"Oh, it's wonderful," Peter assured him. "Simple can be good." It was simple, yes, but the soup was flavorful and the grilled cheese had a delightful mix of cheeses that elevated it far above what he himself would usually make.

"How was your nap?"

"The bed is far more comfortable than I thought it would be," Peter said. "What did you end up doing?"

Stephen wiped his mouth and smiled. "I sat on the promenade and read. I finished the copy of A Hush at Stillsong General Clea loaned me and started Mutiny of the Spaceborn."

"No wild parties, then?"

"No wild parties."

"What did you think of Stillsong?" Peter asked eagerly.

"It was a good read," Stephen admitted. "I can always appreciate when an author does their research and the medical aspect was handled very well."

"Did you guess who the killer was?"

"And the motive," Stephen confirmed. "It was a good read; I enjoyed it."

One of the staff wheeled over a dessert cart and they each selected what they preferred. Stephen chose a warm apple crumble tart and Peter, knowing he was being quite predictable, chose a chocolate pudding parfait.

"I knew that's what you'd pick," Stephen teased after the young man wheeling the cart moved on.

"I've always had a weakness for chocolate," Peter said simply, digging into his parfait.

The view from the promenade was spectacular and Stephen glanced from his book to the windows every now and again. Peter had finally settled down with a book of his own - another gruesome murder mystery loaned to him by Clea. It was an enjoyable afternoon and he spent as much time people-watching as he did reading and looking out of the floor to ceiling windows.

"What time will it be when we arrive in Malibu?" he asked Stephen when they returned to the dining lounge for supper.

Stephen checked his watch and presumably did some quick math in his head. "It will be around four pm because of the time difference. We'll most likely arrive at the mansion around five-thirty."

Peter shook his head. "Time zones are so weird."

Stephen chuckled. "They are and they have confounded and exhausted many a traveler. Our mobiles will update when we land so we'll be oriented."

"Is Tony picking us up from the hangar?"

"He's sending a car service," Stephen said. "Given her delicate condition he's hesitant to leave Sharon alone at home and he's even less inclined to let her leave their mansion."

"No wonder she sounded so annoyed when I spoke with her the other day," Peter said. "She kept muttering about how she was going to slip a sleeping tonic into his drink so she could get some peace and quiet."

Stephen laughed harder.

"You don't sound very sympathetic to her plight," Peter chided playfully.

"Hey, I tried to warn her off when they first met," Stephen said, still laughing.

"I'm glad they found each other," Peter said. "I know I never met them before they got married, but they just seem to work, you know?"

Stephen nodded. "I do. I had my reservations, but now I can't imagine either of them with someone else. True happiness like theirs is rare."

They continued reading, only stopping when yet another of the flight staff wheeled a cart in with fizzy waters, bottled sodas, and a selection of light snacks.

"I could get used to this," Peter commented as he enjoyed a lemon fizzy water and small plate of apple slices with peanut butter.

"I don't know," Stephen said. "I find myself missing the snacks you packed for me the last time I flew."

It was absurd, but Peter was ridiculously pleased to hear it.

The descent to the New Angeles International Hangar was smooth and Peter hardly felt the airship connect with the mobile mooring mast that begin to steer it into the awaiting hangar - one of twelve!

Stephen didn't seem to be in any rush to disembark, guiding Peter back to their cabin to collect their things and ensure they had their pink tickets for the luggage claim. Peter gave the zeppelin one last look around before following Stephen and joining the throng of people in the arrivals bay.

"Was it everything you hoped it would be?" Stephen asked once they claimed their luggage and went to the passenger pick up bay.

"It was!" Peter assured him. "It was perfect! Even if I did have to nap for part of it."

There was a chauffeur waiting with a small sign that read 'Strange'. Stephen confirmed with the man that he was indeed employed by Stark Industries and showed his own identification. Peter didn't see why the man had to store their luggage in the trunk of the gleaming Cadillac, but followed Stephen's lead. Stephen helped him into the back of the car and then joined him.

"How long of a drive is it?" Peter asked.

The chauffeur, Klaus, answered before Stephen could. "It will be around an hour," he said. "We'll use the pooling lane to avoid most of the outgoing rush hour traffic."

While Stephen and Klaus made light conversation, Peter spent the ride leaning against Stephen, content with the easy-listening radio station Klaus had happily turned on. It had been such a long day and he was looking forward to going to bed later that evening almost as much as he was looking forward to seeing Sharon and Tony again.

"Not much longer," Stephen assured him quietly. "We'll visit, have dinner, visit some more, and then I'll take you to bed."

Peter eyed him. "Planning on returning the favor from their last visit?"

Stephen smirked. "Oh, you have no idea."

-------

#couldntbedamned fic #spiderstrange #spideystrange #stephen strange x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #1950s modern fusion au #1950s au #read the tags and warnings #no seriously read them #peter parker #stephen strange

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch feel free to ignore this if it’s too much.

I’m kinda very kinky and so is my partner, but recently I’ve been wanting to do a cnc scene, which he’s down for, yet I still feel super bad about it? Is that normal? Is it even normal to want to do this? Or less is it normal and more is it okay? It both seems like something I should be really ashamed of and also like something that it’s completely absurd to be ashamed of? I’m an ex catholic so I kinda have a weird view of what’s shameful and when I should feel bad about something is kinda off, so I thought maybe an outside perspective would be helpful? Anyways in short, is it okay for me to be planning a cnc scene with my partner? Should I feel bad about it? Thank you so much, I’m sorry if this is too much to ask of you or if it makes you uncomfortable or anything like that.

hi anon,

right off the bat I'm going to say that I appreciate your ability to separate "is it normal?" and "is it okay?" as questions. a thing that I discuss a lot here is that it's totally, 100% possible to be okay without being "normal." statistically speaking, for instance, very few people are sexually aroused by inserting objects into their urethra, but that doesn't mean it isn't okay to do so as long as it's practiced safely!

in your case, your interest in exploring consensual non-consent is both perfectly okay and extremely normal. people of all gender identities report having fantasies about forced sex in high numbers, with a particularly high correlation between interest in consensual non-consent and BDSM - evidently, you've experienced that part firsthand!

in regards to your question about whether it's okay and you should feel bad about it, my answers are "yes" and "no, why would you?" you and your partner are planning to act out something morally bad happening in a context which allows everyone involved to opt out and no one actually gets hurt. you don't need to feel bad about this any more than I need to feel bad for creating vicious enemies and stressful emotional situations for my friends' characters in Dungeons and Dragons.

it's make believe, it's pretend. people love experiencing bad things and pain in controlled contexts, and I'd recommend checking out Leigh Cowart's excellent book Hurts So Good: The Science and Pleasure of Pain on Purpose if you want to learn more about that. (the book isn't as sexy as it may sound; a lot of pages are dedicated to eating spicy peppers and extreme marathoners dropping from exhaustion... which I guess actually could be sexy, depending on what you're into.)

obviously this is something that can go wrong and requires a lot of work and communication between you and your partner to ensure that it's something that's safe and enjoyable for both of you, but that applies to literally every sex act. there's nothing particularly immoral or reprehensible about what you want to do here, just be responsible about it.

#sex edventures 2022

[lucky-clover-gazette]

nah, there were two victims who have spoken out. anastasia who dream knew was 17 (she tells him she’s “18 soon”) and amanda who dream talked to (and allegedly sexted) before she was 18 because he sent her money for her 18th birthday. dream also himself admitted the instagram dms are real, in which he gave the fan amanda his private snapchat. he admitted to flirting with his underage fans privately. i encourage you to seek out the evidence yourself, rather than just looking at what his fans say (not sure what “twitter search” that proves his innocence you’re referring to. there’s no proof that he is innocent when he literally admitted his guilt himself.) dream stans are biased and obviously spread whatever misinformation they can create to make him look innocent, just like they did with his racism and countless other controversies and drama. but if you really want to believe groomer stans, that’s your decision.

oh yes, because that last sentence totally implies you’re coming from a balanced place of good faith, unlike those demented stans.

the thing is, power dynamics aside, i don’t see a problem with a 20 year old person consensually flirting with a 17 year old. i was 17 after i graduated high school. if i chose to flirt with a 20 year old college student, or accept their advances, it would have been extremely normal.

obviously at any age, it’s never okay to harass people—but i don’t think that’s what was happening in the screenshots that were actually released? you say yourself that the worst and most extreme accusations (sexting) are only alleged. and sexting, just like flirting and romance and even sex itself, is not an activity that becomes morally correct only after people have turned 18. if a 17 year old, who’s a few months away from being 18, consensually sexts her boyfriend who recently turned 20, it’s a fucking joke to suggest some kind of abuse is occurring for the reason of age alone. sexting is a neutral act within itself, which can be a way people are groomed, but also can just be a way teens and young adults interact with each other.

now, regarding the celebrity power dynamics—let it first be perfectly understood that i am not a dream stan. i’m not really a stan of anyone, as internet fan culture around real people has always made me uncomfortable. i have literally no investment or stakes in this discourse, other than giving a shit in principle about online parasocial hate campaigns. most relevantly, i care about the use of potential misinformation that could contribute to the delegitimization of serious substantiated accusations.

which is not to say that these accusations aren’t objectively true—these girls had text conversations with this guy, it clearly happened. and they may feel regret or discomfort with the power imbalance of interacting with an internet celebrity, which is a feeling i understand! the power dynamics here are far more questionable that the age stuff that twitter discourse mongers parade around. but those dynamics also require nuance, which is clearly not the priority in the spaces you (anon) seem to occupy.

personally, i do think it’s cringey and a little slimy to flirtily dm people you know are your fans for a quick ego boost—but it’s not predation or grooming when the fan is 17 and the celeb is 20. if the fan is 13 and the celeb is over 18, it is. most people are able to recognize the difference between those two situations, even if the numbers on paper seem close.

i’m genuinely sorry to hear that these girls had negative experiences with someone they once respected and trusted. if there was primary evidence of nonconsensual harassment, i would simply put this guy out of my mind and keep his name out of my mouth. but i think i can actually be pretty damn certain there is no substantive evidence of harassment or predation, or else you people would already be plastering my inbox with it.

all harm is not equal, and overstating harm and co-opting certain inflammatory language like “groomer” exposes, more than anything else, a vindictive desire to call for mass shaming. which is how i reached the conclusion that, even if some cringe slimy stuff happened, the harshest accusations and subsequent parroting and harassment are very obviously happening because people just already didn’t like the guy.

i do not care if you like dream. i don’t know dream and i don’t particularly like him myself. i only had a little bit of sympathy because 1) i hated the way people dunked on his appearance like it was some kind of moral crusade and 2) i have a mutual who enjoys his celebrity presence.

i’ve held off on answering these asks directly because i think it’s ultimately just giving nonsense more attention than it deserves, but i am also self-righteous and have many thoughts and opinions that i’m always down to express.

and that last sentence especially pissed me off.

#sam does a discourse

[coffee-430]

Congregation for 100 followers,may I request prompt 2,13 with Jade,Malleus,Ace and Deuce?(I kinda favorite about ADeuce abit).

You liked them and had a crush on them for a long time, but when they were about to confess, they saw how he was dealing with "love rival". After that incident,you were scared and kept avoiding him.However, he will no longer have the patience to be isolated like that.So at night, he will try come to your place to talk.

—100 Followers Event!

No. 2: "You love me!" "I loved you!"

No. 13: "Is it really that hard for you to love me?" With Yandere Jade, Yandere Malleus, Yandere Ace, and Yandere Deuce

Characters: Jade, Ace, Deuce, and Malleus (separate)

Warnings: yandere themes, mentions of blood, non-consensual touching, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, violence

Note: This has been in my drafts for a while now. Sorry for the very long wait, anon!

Jade was an odd man, to you and in everyone's eyes. But sometimes, you couldn't help but feel attracted towards him in a way. And it was his thoughtful behaviour that made the small feelings blossom within you.

— Jade

Though, it didn't take long before the two of you got closer.

He was a gentleman in your eyes. The way he was so gentle and the way he would make you feel prioritized was something that conjured the little feelings of adoration inside you. He would often invite you to his club and he'd show off the different kinds of mushrooms he had stored.

Despite not being a mushroom connoisseur, you were still highly impressed at the knowledge he had whenever he talked about his hobby and his love for mushrooms. He even gave you a mushroom as a birthday present once and he taught you how to care for it.

He would talk for hours and you wouldn't be bored listening to him. He was just so polite and soft spoken that your heart couldn't help but just run a marathon whenever he would smile at you.

One day, you were helping out in the lounge. Floyd was there with you and when you were on break, you had asked where Jade was— his twin replied that he was running an errand for Azul and should be in the Heartslabyul dorm. You thought that maybe if you would run into him, you would finally be able to confess to him— your long admiration and adoration for him.

You told Floyd that you'll step out for a bit.

"Okay. But be back soon, shrimpy~! Azul wouldn't like to see his staff dally around~"

He shouted as you ran out to meet his twin. You ran with excitement in your steps, maybe Jade likes you too if you confess to him. And if he doesn't, well, you were sure you'll get over it and move on— that's how life works after all.

You managed to reach the mirror that led to the Heartslabyul dorm and once inside, you began to look for your favourite eel man. But as you slowly trudge towards the building— a familiar face stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey, (Y/n)!" They called.

Oh, you saw. A figure walks towards you with a sheepish smile as they wave out a hand to greet you. You smiled back— of course. You recognize them as one of your classmates from a certain class and you recall goofing around with them at times.

"Hello, fancy seeing you here."

"Oh, a friend of mine needed help with his studies and I offered to help."

"That sounds ironic, seeing how you barely pass any test."

"Hey—! That's mean." They laughed, and you two suddenly let the conversation flow. You were so deep into your chat that you forgot the reason why you were in the Heartslabyul dorm in the first place.

Unbeknownst to you, a figure heard the sounds of chatter from a corner and opted to investigate. There he paused in his tracks, he saw you chatting away with one of the dorm's residents. And judging how the Heartslabyul student was touching you so casually— they must be a close friend of yours.

An unamused expression was plastered on Jade's face. He did not like seeing you with someone like that. See, during his little 'errand', Jade happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. He was moody all morning but was successful at maintaining his poker face. But seeing you with someone talking so closely, he did not like that.

Quietly, he left.

And you went home feeling downcast. You had completely forgotten Jade! How could you!? He was literally the only reason you went there, but you were just too consumed with the talk you had with your friend.

Azul also scolds you for taking your time and you had not seen any sign of Jade anywhere. Sighing, you scratch your head defeatedly. Well, there's always next time. As you were walking back to your dorm, you heard a twig snapped. Your ears perked up at the sound and quickly turned to see the source.

It was quiet. Too quiet for your liking. The crickets stopped their sounds and you realized that it was only you in the area. But as you were about to hurry back to your dorm—

"P-Please..."

You completely froze in your spot. An almost quiet voice was what you heard in the utmost dark place of your area. As you went to check what was going on— despite the alarms going through your head— it was then you saw him. Jade.

Your Jade.

Standing above an almost disfigured creature beneath him. You couldn't help but let out a gasp, and he heard it. Jade quickly turns his head and spots you with terror in your eyes. Horrified, you ran before Jade could even call out to you.

And you avoided him for days.

But the eel of a man didn't like that. So, he opted to visit you one night for a little 'chat' and it didn't go as smoothly as he'd thought.

"Let go of me!" You yelled, trying to rip yourself off from the man's iron-like grip. It was a mistake opening the door when you knew who was behind it, but you were grateful that Grim wasn't here to witness this.

"Why have you been avoiding me? Was it because of what I did? I did that for you." He calmly explained, in contrast to the very tight hold he was on you and your terrified expression.

"Me? You almost killed the man!" You retorted, frantically looking around to find something that could help you to push Jade away. He merely looked at you with his mismatched eyes and sighed.

"He was clearly going after you, I did you a favour. You don't need him, (Y/n)." His grip on you tightened even further. "You love me!"

Tears pricked your eyes as you gritted your teeth in pain, "I loved you!" And you mean that with every fiber of your being. Jade's grip loosened a bit, his eyes widening at your outburst— but it didn't take long for him to continue his painful hold. "Then love me back." His question was answered by a frantic shake of your head, indicating a 'no'.

He sighed again, but this time in frustration, as he pulled you towards him and both of you suddenly fell on the floor— with your hands pinned above you. "Is it really that hard for you to love me?" He whispered. Looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"Please..." Tears flowed down, your voice was desperate to have him off you. This wasn't what you wanted, Jade wasn't supposed to be like this as everything you thought of him completely shatters. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You might have liked him to the point of love— but this... Was not it.

Despite your best efforts and countless attempts to break free, you helplessly remain trapped in the relentless grip of a man consumed by an irrevocably and insatiable adoration for you.

— Ace

"Ace, let go!" Tears streamed down your face as you tried to pull your hand away, but his grip only tightened.

"You love me!" He insisted, his voice laced with desperation.

You shook your head, your heart heavy with resignation. "Not anymore," You whispered. "I loved you!" Tugging on his hold, you tried again to free yourself from him. "I can't love someone who treats me like this." A cry could be heard from you, as you began weeping at the sight of what was once your supposed crush.

Ace's eyes widened at your disclosure, he let go of your wrist and you immediately stepped back, rubbing the sore spot where his fingers had dug in. You both stood there in silence for a moment, both of you contemplating what had just been said.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry," he said, tears starting to form in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

But it was too late. The damage was already done. Before you knew it, he lunged at you and suddenly everything your vision could see slowly became blurry— gradually turning black. He had hit you on the back of your neck, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stood above you with his scarlet coloured eyes beamed with anger in them. "Is it really that hard for you to love me?" He whispered lowly.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

You may have told Cater of your little crush on Ace, and that orange haired friend of yours may have also tattle tale on your said crush— and your plans on confessing. Ace remembered bursting out of joy at that, he was so happy that it kept him up at night. He was always in a good mood because of that.

So, he waited for the confession to come.

But then one day, he got himself in a bit of a situation. He saw you sitting in the cafeteria, spoon feeding a man he didn't know. And that made him jealous. He bravely walked up to you and stupidly made a scene. It was so humiliating.

It was just some stupid dare, you explained to him. A dare that you were made to do because of the silly little game you and your friends played. You didn't mean to make him jealous, you didn't mean for any of this to happen!

Ace walked out that day, with his blood boiling inside him. And it was on that day that something snapped in him, he confronted the 'friend' you were feeding back at the cafeteria. And the next thing he knew, he was staring down at an unconscious man on the ground— his fists covered in blood as his eyes stared menacingly at his victim.

It was your startled gasp that snapped him out of his trance; he called out your name, but you ran away before he could reach you.

This results in you avoiding him like the plague.

But he had enough of your attempt of isolating him from you, barging into your dorm and throwing Grim out of the window while he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold— an attempt to have a talk with you, but you wouldn't listen to him.

And here you are now, lying unconscious on the floor as Ace prevented you from leaving. He'll fix this, he swore. He'll make everything better.

You and him will get that sweet ending you've always wanted. He'll hear your confession, he'll say yes— and boom, everything will be fixed. Please, he begged. It was just a simple mistake. Don't misunderstand him now.

— Deuce

Ah, sweet clumsy Deuce.

He was so whipping for you. That every day he just couldn't bear to not see you in every minute of the day. And it didn't take long for his little adoration for you to become totally obsessive and downright creepy.

He was in your shadow. Taking notes of who you were with and where you would be. You didn't notice of this— no. He made sure of that. Keeping a bashful and awkward façade whenever he would be meeting you face to face.

Fortunately for him, your naïve behaviour led you to mark him as your crush. From your perspective, Deuce was an idiot who was always by your side whenever you were in need. He was there when you had trouble with schoolwork, he'll accompany you to your room— even if that made him late to his own class. He made you feel like a priority.

But it was on a lovely Saturday, that everything he had worked to build up would come tumbling down just like that. A close friend of yours— managed to catch on Deuce's suspicious doings whenever he was with you, and somehow— your close friend managed to uncover everything about Deuce and his obsession towards you.

However at this, your friend ran to you— interrupting your plans on confessing that day and you made attempts of staying away from him then on. The bluenette had taken note of this, and he was beyond happy.

Which resulted in him angrily approaching your dorm and throwing his fist at your friend. You screamed at the sight but he silenced you with a hand covering your mouth.

"You can't leave me," He said, his voice low and menacing. "You belong to me."

You felt a wave of fear wash over you. You had never seen him like this before. You knew you had to get away from him as soon as possible. Summoning all your strength, you pushed him away from you. It earned you a bit of distance, but he was quick to pin you against the wall with your arms above your head.

You tried to break free from his grasp, but his grip only tightened around your wrist. The pain shot up your arm as tears streamed down your face.

"Why are you doing this? Let me go," You pleaded with him. He didn't respond, instead, he pulled you closer to him, and you could feel his hot breath on your face. He was quiet, his eyes observing your terrified features. "Don't avoid me, (Y/n)." He growled, "You love me!"

"You love me, it's obvious. You got to be in love with me." Deuce sounded like a maniac, his face was adorned with a deranged look on his face.

"I loved you!" You blurted out, the fear making you talk. He gritted his teeth at that, dangerously nearing you— your faces only an inch away from each other. "You don't mean that." He denied, growling into your ear.

That was he chuckled oh so suddenly, his grip loosening but only for a bit. "Is it really that hard for you to love me?" His voice had a tone of desperation in them— close to a whine, as he pushed himself closer to you.

"You'll love me." Deuce smiled, "Just like how you were supposed to feel about me— yes. I'll make sure of that."

— Malleus

You avoided Malleus for days on end now.

Ever since you found out what he did to your friend after simply hanging out with each other— you stayed away from the powerful draconic Prince.

You even found out he had taken a liking to you— your past self would've squealed in delight at that information and that would have set you to continue with your plans on confessing but...

"Human!" Sebek's voice boomed throughout the hallways and that made you ran. Malleus sent his lackeys to find you— he must've noticed your strange behaviour.

Your feet carried you back towards your humble abode. A mistake you should have thought about.

As you opened the door, you were instantly met with green piercing eyes staring into your soul. You froze— mentally slapping yourself for being so stupid. Malleus slowly approached you, his tall stature towered over you. You gulped, you didn't like where this was going.

"You have been avoiding me, child of man." His voice was the first to break the silence. "Why is that? Have I done something wrong to upset you?"

"..." What were you supposed to say? You were so sure he wouldn't like what you would say to him. "Malleus," You began, "You hurt my friend— almost killing him. Why wouldn't I be upset about that?"

Upset was an understatement, you were beyond horrified and mad at what the dragon did. Your friends didn't deserve that, they were innocent but Malleus— whatever had gotten inside his head— almost ripped your friend apart had you not been there to stop him.

"Ah that," He chuckled softly, "I was simply getting rid of a competitor." At his words, you couldn't help but raise a brow at him. "What do you mean by that?" You asked, taking a step back.

"You love me!" He beamed, "And I love you. I was only getting rid of anyone coming our way." He answered, taking a step closer to you. You knew he was wrong, this interpretation of love wasn't love. It was completely way off from being called love.

"No, Malleus." You breathed out, slowly feeling yourself getting smaller under his gaze. "I loved you!" At that, he paused— and it was his turn to raise a brow towards you. "What do you mean by that, my child of man?"

"You hurt my friend, you almost tear him apart— I'm scared of you! I don't think I would want to love you after that."

His smile dropped and his eyes narrowed. You could see his brow twitching and you knew you might have made him mad. "Why does your friend matter? Am I not enough?"

"Malleus, you're really making this hard right now."

"Why don't you love me?" He cornered you against the wall, slamming a hand close to your face. You jumped at his action— letting out a small yelp. "Is it really that hard for you to love me?" He whispered, nearing your ear. You whimpered at the closeness, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

And the next thing you know, you woke up in a completely different place. It was when Lilia came in with a smile and informed you that you were now in Briar Valley and you were soon to be made Malleus' Queen— to rule by his side like a good little spouse.

Despite your best efforts of escaping, you found yourself trapped in an unyielding web woven by the man who was madly in love with you. Every corner you turned, every step you took, he was there, his presence suffocating and inescapable. His fondness for you, once a source of joy and comfort, had transformed into a relentless obsession that held you captive.

You longed for freedom, for the ability to breathe without the weight of his unyielding affection pressing down on you. Yet, you knew deep within your heart that you would never truly escape him. His love, fueled by madness, had become an unbreakable chain that bound you two together, forever intertwining your fates in a twisted dance of despair.

And so, you resigned yourself to a life imprisoned within the confines of his delusional adoration. Your dreams withered away, suffocated by the suffocating grasp of his love. In the depths of your despair, you became a ghost of your former self, a mere shadow lingering in the dark recesses of his madness. In this tragic tale, you never found solace or freedom, forever haunted by the man who loved you with a twisted and unrelenting passion.

#co430event! #co430requests #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere jade leech #yandere ace trappola #yandere deuce spade #yandere malleus draconia #thank you so much for 100 followers!

[itadores]

shopping trip.

synopsis: you rope maki into going shopping with you. though she’d rather by anywhere else, she doesn’t appreciate it when someone tries to ruin her best friend’s day.

word count: 1.4k

pairing: zenin maki & gender neutral reader

genre/warnings: best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, non-consensual groping, light violence.

The door slams against the wall with a loud smack as you burst through the door and into the room. You toss yourself onto the bed pressed up against the wall, sprawling onto your back and smiling up at its occupant.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Maki peers over the top of her glasses, an unamused expression plastered on her face. She looks away from you, continuing to scroll through her phone as you squirm around until you get into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but I had something really important to tell you.” You’ve turned over to lie on your stomach, your face now propped up by your palms as you jut your lip out at Maki, who doesn’t even bother to look your way.

“What was so important that you couldn’t knock on my door like a normal person?”

Unfortunately for Maki, you bursting through her door without any warning is a regular occurrence. Somehow you’ve never come in unannounced during a time when she was asleep or changing, which was surprising considering how often you liked to pop into her room. It’s like you had a sixth sense in which you knew when would be a bad time to go bother Maki. Or maybe you’ve just gotten lucky so far.

Maki would lock you out, but she knows you would just pester her until she unlocked it and hung out with you.

If possible, your grin widens even more, nearly splitting your face in half. “I need to go shopping, and you have to come with me.”

“Not a chance.”

“Maki,” you whine, letting your arms slip out from under you and flopping fully down on your stomach with your cheek pressed up against the mattress. “Please?”

“No,” she states, not even tearing her eyes away from her phone to reply to you. “Why would I ever want to willingly go shopping when I have no reason to?”

“Because I’m your best friend in the entire world, and you love me so much.”

That may be true, but not a good enough reason for Maki to get off her bed and go shop with you when the two of you could do something like spar instead. She gives you a deadpan look that has you quickly searching for another reason.

“I promise I’ll be fast, and I’ll even buy you lunch.”

Her lips curl into an approving grin, and her eyes flash over to yours as she closes out of the application she was in.

“Deal.”

You, in fact, were not fast.

Maki should have known better, to be honest. You always take forever since you have such a difficult time deciding on whether or not you want to purchase something. The excuse of I’m not going to spend money on something I don’t love on your tongue as you clutch two different shirts in your hands, comparing them in an attempt to choose which one you should buy. You ended up buying neither of them, much to Maki’s frustration.

Maki’s just glad that the first thing the two of you did when you got to the mall was get lunch. You let Maki choose the place, but warned her not to drain your pockets with what she wanted. She was tempted to buy something expensive to eat just to hear you grumble, but she opted for a meal that she enjoyed and wasn’t too out of your price range.

Lunch was nice, though Maki had to slap your hand away when you tried to steal some food off her plate. She eventually caved in and let you sneak in a few bites when you whined and pouted at her. In return, you let her try some of your food too.

Right now, she was hanging around the entrance of the store you were perusing. Mindlessly scrolling through social media because, after the first few stores, Maki blatantly refused to go into any more with you. You understood that shopping wasn’t really of interest to Maki, so you left it at that and bounded into the shop without her.

However, you’ve been in there for a while, and Maki was growing the slightest bit antsy. She couldn’t wait to get back to campus, rope you into some sparring for making her agree to come with you, and beat your ass as proper payment. Yeah, that sounded nice.

“Thanks for waiting for me!” Maki looks up from her phone to see you bounce up to her with a few bags clutched in your hands. You bring up your hand to rub at the back of your head, jostling the bags in your grip, as you give her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I know I took longer than expected.”

“It’s no big deal.” she remarks, lightly hitting the side of your head with her palm. “Are you done, though? Because if you’re going to take another hour or something I swear—”

“Just one more store,” you assure, falling into step with her, “I promise, I just wanted to stop by the candy store and buy some stuff for the others.”

She huffs underneath her breath at that. You really shouldn’t be buying the others stuff and spoiling them when your allowance for this month is going to run out soon. Maki cocks her head your way. “You shouldn’t buy—”

A startled gasp falls from your lips, and Maki whips her head around, trying to place why you made that noise. The sight that greets Maki has her seeing red instantaneously. An older man has his hand firmly placed on your ass, a sick appraising look on his face. Maki’s quick to react, ripping his hand off of you, a shocked expression replacing the previous one on the male’s face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Maki tightens her grip on his wrist, causing the man to wince in pain. Good. She was going to shatter his damn wrist. “Huh? Aren’t you going to say anything? Got nothing better to do than be a fucking pervert?” Maki sneers, digging her nails into his skin. She hopes he fucking bleeds.

“Ahh—let go, you crazy bitch.”

A dangerous grin spreads across Maki’s face. “I’ll show you just how fucking crazy—”

“M-maki.” Your voice shakes as you gently tug on the sleeve of her shirt. “Let’s just go.” Her grip doesn’t loosen in the slightest, prompting the man to yelp in pain. “Please. It’s not worth it.”

She tosses the man’s arm out of her grip, glaring down at him. “If I ever see you harassing anyone else, I’ll break your arm.” He scampers away, clutching his wrist and murmuring psycho bitch underneath his breath.

The deep frown marking Maki’s face softens when she turns her attention back to you. You’re slightly shaking, holding your bags in an iron grip. Your head hangs low with your eyes trained on the ground. Maki feels anger rise up once more within her; she should go back and beat the fucking shit out of the man for putting his hands on you.

“Hey.” She gently places her hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You flinch from the touch, causing Maki to retract her hand back as fast as she can. Scratch that, she was going to kill him.

“Sorry,” you softly murmur, bringing a hand to rub at your arm. Why are you apologizing for anything?

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Maki reassures you, taking care to emphasize that it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault but that stupid bastard’s. “Are you good with me touching you?”

You nod your head an imperceptible amount. She awkwardly wraps her arms around your form, engulfing you in a hug. You’re unbearably stiff for a moment before you lift your arms to clutch at the back of Maki’s shirt. She doesn’t comment on the dampening of her shirt and just holds you in a hug.

When you pull away to rub at your eyes, there’s a small watery grin playing on your lips. “Who knew Zenin Maki was such a softie?”

She scowls at that, gently poking the side of your head with her finger. “Shut up. I’m not.”

Her retort is half-hearted, and it’s clear that both of you know it. Secretly, Maki is just relieved that you’re joking again. Begrudgingly, she lets you loop your arms together and lean into her side as you start walking again.

“C’mon, I still want to go to the candy store.”

(Later, when you get back to campus and confide in the others about what happened, they discreetly exchange glances with one another, resolving themselves to beat the shit out of that man if they ever come across him.)

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #maki x reader #zenin maki x reader #maki zenin x reader #jujutsu kaisen x platonic reader #jjk x platonic reader #maki zenin fluff #maki fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #new.mail #from.jujutsu kaisen #love.zenin maki #this is a repost from my old blog !!!!!!!!!!!

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

I appreciate those of you mutuals who may have very hard stances on AI sticking with me while I've been rambling about my complicated feelings on the matter. I know it can be grating to deal with someone you know having opinions that you have intensely negative feelings about.

To provide some trust and clarity, my hard stances on the subject are these:

1) it's never ok to lie and pretend you made something by hand when you had AI generate the entirety of something. Obvious scammers can suck a dick. Anything I ever make you can have the confidence to know I made myself using the traditional methods. I wouldn't even enjoy it otherwise.

2) I have no love or trust for corporations. It's not okay that these companies are scraping data from people without their consent, particularly because of the power dynamics involved (example of what I mean: actual collages made by human artists from something like bits and pieces of magazines are okay, even if they aren't asking the creators of those images. Remixes and fanfiction are ok without asking original creators. AI - working as intended - might essentially create collages that are just as transformative, but it's built by rich corporations upon material taken non-consensually from millions of lower class unknown artists, and that interplay with our current issues of poverty and widespread worker exploitation is what makes it truly exploitative.)

3) Corporations should not be substituting paying their workers for AI. The strikes going on right now in general about worker exploitation have my full support. I would never take advantage of such a situation for my own benefit (scabbing).

4) no artist should ever be forced to use AI in a job where they never signed up for that kind of work in the first place.

5) there needs to be transparency and regulations put into place to ensure people can protect themselves, opt out, and so that people can have full choice and agency in regards to any interaction with AI.

6) we need to start having serious conversations about technological innovation and private vs. public ownership of certain technologies. Innovation being hoarded by the kinds of rich corporations and individuals who utilize worker exploitation as the backbone of their business practices will always embed exploitation into the very fabric of the innovations they fund. We need to have regulations in place to protect and allow the greatest amount of freedom for the working class.

[evolvingchaoswitch]

Freakshow-Chapter 1 Hanging by a Thread

evolvingchaoswitch

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories:

F/F

F/M

Other

Fandoms:

Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)

Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy (Video Game 2021)

Five Nights at Freddy's

Relationship:

Rocket Raccoon/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags:

Game Theory Lore

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Canon-Typical Violence

Body Horror

Implied/Referenced Torture

Mental Health Issues

Implied/Referenced Suicide

Slow Burn

Body Dysphoria

Non-Consensual Body Modification

raw dogged by an anthropomorphic raccoon

Eventual Smut

Summary:

Tinkering with my design, twist and turn my feral mind Play with me 'til you've found another toy Let me be your freak show, I could be your favorite monster Rattle my whole cage, remind me why I can't be fostered Let me be your freak show, I could be your favorite monster Lock me up, don't let me out 'cause you know I can't help myself.

Notes:

This is my first in a few cross over OC's I've created over the years and my favourite to pair with Rocket. The song I reference in my summary is from Sub Urban it is a very good Rocket themed song. I base inspiration for this character from Game Theory's coverage of FNAF. Happy reading looking forward to your thoughts.

Chapter Management

Edit Chapter

Chapter 1: Hanging by a thread

Chapter Text

The ship was in rough shape but hopefully not so fucked that Rocket wouldn’t be able to find some useful materials to repair his own ship that he had hobbled together out of scraps. His enemies had been getting smarter when it came to keeping him locked up, opting to shunt Groot off to a prison further away from him hoping that would be the key ingredient to keeping him caged. Rocket would laugh at the audacity of the thought process if it didn’t cause so many flarkin annoying troubles for him. Once his makeshift ship was patched up a bit better he’d go looking for Groot and most likely a more structurally stable ship along the way, this one’s engine was fucked in a way he couldn’t fix with his current tool set.

Rocket hummed a wordless tune as he went to work stripping the ship of what was valuable as he moved further into its hull. Rocket could hear the faint sound of a dog whining, had Cosmo found himself on this ship? Rocket may have had his issues with the stupid mutt but he wasn’t going to let him be trapped here if it was Cosmo making the noises. So tentatively Rocket made his way towards the sound to see if it was Cosmo or not, and he was right it was a dog just not Cosmo.

In a cage over in one corner of the room was a dog circling around desperate to get to something just beyond his view, something that was hidden in the shadows adjacent to this cage. The dog's fur that appeared to be white was now strained with dried blood and the general grime of the cage, a pair of piercing blue eyes locked with his own cognac coloured ones as the creature looked frightened. Then terrifying as metallic panels opened up all over the animal, showing pieces of exposed internals along with other modifications, Rocket wanted to hurl. Was this a new creature from Him? Was this a new abomination from Halfworld? Either way he couldn’t leave it there whimpering like that, Rocket may be a professional asshole but he did have a bit of a soft spot for his fellow mammals.

“Keep it down I’m getting you out” Rocket got to work opening the cage and he was relieved to see that the action seemed to calm the animal down, maybe it was intelligent not his level but enough to follow orders. The smell in the air was putrid. Something was undoubtedly rotting in the second cage in the room if Rocket was going to make an assumption it was probably the person the dog was so eager to get to. The dog came to sit near the cage door anxiously waiting for it to open. Rocket could see on the purple collar around its neck hung a small silver coin that read Bianca. The dog was a she apparently.

Rocket watched as Bianca bolted over to the other cage before pawing at the door while whining for him to open this one as well which Rocket started on while sighing. Groot in his life was starting to make him go soft, Rocket was hoping once Bianca saw that her owner was dead it would be easier to drop her off somewhere safer. Rocket paid no mind to the body on the floor as the corpse appeared to be one of the former members of this ship and not Bianca’s owner. Rocket didn’t care for paying any respects to the dead crew of this ship, he had looked up some of the shit these people had gotten up to and lets just say he didn’t give much care to traffickers. The door slid open a moment later and Bianca bolted over to the figure that was hanging in restraints in the middle of the cage.

The figure looked to be from Terra, coppery red hair that was cropped short to the head, pasty white skin dotted with an assortment of freckles and an easy to enjoy feminine form. One problem ,Rocket had never seen a Terran with a chest cavity open like theirs and still alive. He could hear the heart still faintly beat from behind the metal that surrounded it, though it was difficult to see the organ, what with the power cord obscuring it from view. Two thoughts that hit Rocket at the same time, this person was still alive and had been used as some form of power source for this ship.

Those sicks fucks.

As soon as Rocket disconnected the power cord and stepped away to lay the cord on the ground Bianca sprung into action placing her muzzle on the exposed powercell that worked in conjunction with the heart. Bianca seemed to let some form of energy pass from her internals to her owners slowly recharging the girl till slowly the chest started to seal up protecting the organics behind. This girl wasn’t like any make of android that he had ever seen before and he certainly wanted to know more about this Afton Robotics place. Rocket might have a few bones to pick with them over their design choices.

Rocket could hear soft cries coming from the newly renewed girl in the corner at first he thought she was just crying over being chained up and used as a power source.Made complete sense to Rocket if that was the case but as Rocket took a second to listen a bit closer he could hear the repeated phrases of.

“I’m so glad you’re safe Bianca” “I’m so sorry” “You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok”

Rocket felt an unwelcome tug on his heartstrings before he felt obligated as his current state of employment as a professional asshole to ruin the moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Ѐabha Tinsley and Bianca Del Barko the finest bitch in the land”

The last part was stated as a fact rather than a flippant statement.

“I’m Rocket and something tells me that you didn’t leave Terra willingly, want to hitch a ride back?”

Ѐabha was trying to figure that out right now too much had happened since she had forcibly been put into sleep mode as they drained her for power. Now that she had gotten the first thing out of the way, making sure her beloved Bianca was safe it was now time to reacquaint herself with what was going on in the moment. Now it was time to sort through all the intrusive messages that had popped onto her internal log once she was back online. Most of them as per usual were about update permissions that she made sure to quickly dismiss. The organic within her would forever fight with the inorganic. The scars that her maker had left on her all those years held long lasting effects on her but none so aggravating as her update protocol that wouldn’t be satisfied until she was perfect.

She could already tell that over the miscellaneous time that she was out that her body had moved from sixty-percent organic to fifty-eight percent which didn’t seem like that much of a drop in percentages but to her it was.

Your savior appeared to be some kind of talking raccoon but after everything you had been through over the years it hardly phases you. Hell even the corpse rotting away in the corner of your cage failed to stir up a response from you. At least this one still had all its internals. At least it wasn’t a six foot plus animatronic with dead kids inside. Fuck your life was weird.

The anthropomorphic raccoon appeared to be your savior or at the very least the guy that took pity on you enough to free you. You could live with that easily, though looking at the little bit of metallic that showed on him you got the idea that he had gone through some similar shit. Looking down at Bianca the two of you had a brief vibe check discussion via eye as you typically did before you responded.

“Can she come too, I don’t go anywhere without her” Savior or not like hell you were leaving the only member of your family behind.

“Oh course, though things will get a little cramped when we pick up a friend of mine hopefully we’ll have another ship ready” Rocket took a moment to think out his next question “You any good with striping ships for scrap” Rocket didn’t really expect a yes but if there was one it would make life easier for the next few hours. Rocket watched as you nodded your head before you started to strip some of the room you were in for useful materials, stepping over the corpse as you went to work. Rocket was fairly sure he saw you plop a few scrapes of non-useful materials into your mouth like a snack though that wouldn’t be the strangest thing he had seen in space for a long shot.

They both finished their work within the two hour mark before heading back to Rockets ship to continue on. It wouldn’t take Rocket long to get all his shit together in order to grab Groot. Groot was going to be thrilled that he picked up a couple of strays along the way, the Flora colossus did enjoy meeting new people even if all they understood was I Am Groot.

Rocket could see that his two new passengers had fallen asleep in a small out of the way corner on the ship. Rocket elected to leave both alone as he plotted out the way he was going to get Groot back.

One way or another. @elegant-fleuret @aliasrocket @momahoneypleasesugar @honeypleasesugar

#rocket raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon fanfic #original character #fnaf fanfic #fnaf #ao3 tags