#even if the price she pays is extreme loneliness
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Meet me where the sky touches the sea 2/3
Creature : Merpeople
Chapter Summary
Hob discovers the story of his savior and while the man and the merman are getting closer, it is time for Hob to return to the surface.
On Ao3
Rating T - 2628
While Dream's people generally kept to themselves in the depths of the sea because his father, the king, preferred to keep their kingdom unknown to the world, Dream had always been fascinated by the surface. He had always gone to the surface to observe the humans and their habits. He too dreamed of seeing all these things, he dreamed of knowing everything. He would often sneak out to get as close to the shore as possible, without being seen, just to learn as much as possible about the human world. Until it was no longer enough for him.
So he had gone to see his older sister Death, to whom he was closest. She understood him best and had even encouraged him in his desire to open up to the surface world. So she had not been surprised when her little brother had come to her for help. She knew that her dreamy brother aspired to more than the sea kingdom, his eyes were always turned outwards full of dreams and hope. She had explained to him, however, that there was a price to pay, that in order to have the right to sail between the two worlds, he would have to give something of himself. Dream had not hesitated, he had offered his voice. What was a voice against the freedom to go wherever he wanted?
Dream had been delighted, overwhelmed with so many new things to see and learn, to taste, to try.
But it didn't take him long to realize that he needed the sea too. So he created this place for himself, like an oasis between sea and land. A way for the two worlds to live together.
What he hadn't expected was the arrival of Hob, whose cottage was so close to his haven. He had been immediately intrigued by the man who looked so sad and lonely. So he had watched him live, looking for a way to break his loneliness.
"Sorry, that must sound really sick to you," Dream said at the end of his tale, still in Hob's head while biting his lips.
Hob thought for a bit, yes it might sound wrong to others, but Dream hadn't done anything bad, hadn't been invasive, he'd just been watching him.
"Maybe, but not to me, it's almost... comforting. Weird huh?" Hob scratched his head, embarrassed. He did not add that there was something incredibly flattering about arousing the interest of such a wonderful being.
Dream retorted in a laughing tone, "I remind you that you're talking to a merman who traded his voice for legs, so I'm not qualified to judge what's weird."
They both chuckled softly, Dream's laugh silent and Hob's loud. The blending of their two worlds.
Then Dream continued, "So imagine my shock when last night I saw you walking into the water, wondering what was going through your mind, not knowing if I should intervene or not. If you wanted to be saved or not. Then your foot got caught in that seaweed and seeing you struggling to escape, I thought finally you had a spark of will to live so I hurried over and there you are."
Hob took his hand and said softly, his voice clearly altered by emotion, "I don't really know what was on my mind at the time. I was drawn to the calm that the ocean offered me, but when that seaweed grabbed my ankle, I knew. I knew I wanted to live, but it was too late. Or I thought it was too late, so thank you for saving me."
There was a comfortable silence, which Hob broke by inquiring a bit tentatively, "How come you have my books?"
Dream took on an air of mystery before answering, "Imagine my surprise when I realized that the author of my favorite saga lived a hundred yards from my home."
Hob gave a small, deprecating laugh, "Your favorite saga? Don't exaggerate."
Dream had an extremely serious expression as his voice echoed in Hob's head,
"I swear I'm not lying to you. How could I not love the story of this God of dreams who is so bored that he gives immortality to a human to see when he will beg him to die because he can't take it anymore. They meet every hundred years. The god who is absolutely under the spell of the human but is too afraid to let himself feel. And that cliffhanger in the last volume, when they split up in 1889 and right after that the god gets kidnapped. I can't wait for you to release the sequel, you know. The way you describe each of them from their point of view, what drives them. And the human Robert, what an amazing character. He even reminds me of you."
Hob hesitated between laughing and crying. Hearing someone speak so passionately in his head about something he had written, something he had created, knowing that it was a source of emotion and joy, made him feel something he hadn't felt in years. Sure, his books were selling well enough that he could make a living at it, but this? Someone telling him what he was doing was right?
Then he started to laugh and he did not notice at once that the laughter had turned into sobs. It was only when he felt the tears flowing that he realized it and wanted to hide his head in his hands in shame. But Dream didn't let him do it, he grabbed his wrists and drew him against him, pressing him against his broad chest. Hob did not resist. It had been so long since anyone had touched him or held him or comforted him. He no longer had the strength within him to pretend to be strong, so he let go. With his face against Dream's chest, he felt the merman’s hand stroking his hair and his soft voice in his head whispering, "You're not alone Hob. Let me take care of you. Let go, I'll catch you."
As Dream continued to whisper words of encouragement and comfort into his head, Hob cried as he had never cried before. About his loneliness. About his broken dreams. About the little boy who dreamed of a prince who never came. Until the tears dried up. Then, exhausted by emotion, he fell asleep against Dream and as his mind fell asleep too, he heard only Dream's whisper in his mind.
“You will never be alone again.”
When Hob woke up hours later, it took him a few minutes to adjust to his surroundings, to realize again where he was.
"Did you sleep well?"
The soft voice of his savior echoed in his head.
He was in front of him, smiling sweetly. Hob felt a little ashamed of what had happened, but Dream saw it and reassured him immediately in his head, "Hob, please, don't be ashamed."
Hob shook his head and said softly, "I'm sorry Dream, I'm not the type to..."
Dream's voice interrupted him in his head, "From watching you, believe me I know. Maybe you should do it more often. Believe me I know a lot about keeping things to oneself. I luckily had someone who always listened to me, so I'm glad I was there when you needed me. To have been that person for you."
Dream stood up and held out his hand as he continued, "How about we talk about what's next over breakfast?"
Hob, still a little sleepy, let himself be dragged by the merman into the kitchen where the sight of the laden table finally woke him up.
Dream's for the first time shy voice came out in his head, "I didn't know what you liked, so I made a little of everything."
Hob squeezed his hand in his own and said simply, "That's really fine. Thank you." In all honesty, he would have appreciated anything as he wasn't used to someone taking care of him.
Sitting across from each other, they began to eat in silence. After a few comforting sips of coffee, Hob spoke up, "Do you think I will be able to go home?"
Dream nodded as he answered in Hob's head, "Yes, I can easily bring you back, but after that, only I could come to you. This time was an exception because I saved you. If I am able to navigate between the two worlds, unfortunately no one else is."
Hob nodded, disappointed at the thought of not being able to return to this place. They continued to eat in silence, glancing at each other, neither of them daring to broach the subject of the future.
Dream didn't want to look like a stalker more than he already was and Hob didn't want to become a burden to the merman. He did not want to abuse this kindness offered so generously.
That’s why, for once Hob wanted to reach out, to grab what was at hand, the possibility of a sincere friendship, of a lasting relationship, of something more, something different.
So he plucked up his courage and dared to ask, "If I can't come back, will you come to me?"
The smile that blossomed on Dream's lips was one of the most beautiful things Hob had ever seen as he heard in his head, "Yes, I will come, with joy. I promise."
Hob, delighted, felt like grasping even more, so he asked, "And if I want you to come..."
Hob didn't have time to finish his sentence as Dream made a beautiful conch appear in the palm of his hand. "Whenever you want, you just whisper my name into the shell and I'll be there."
Hob, touched, delicately seized the shell, looked at it for a few moments then put it preciously in his pocket.
They exchanged a smile, a little embarrassed by the intensity of the moment, before resuming their breakfast, discussing things like long-time friends.
When they finished, Hob helped Dream wash the dishes, wondering how such a simple thing brought him so much joy just because he was doing it with someone. When he was too long lost in his thoughts, Dream flicked the water at him and laughed at him when he wrinkled his nose at the drops of water landing on his face. At that moment, Hob realized that he didn't know when he had stopped having fun just for fun. When was the last time he had laughed in such a light-hearted way?
They left the kitchen and Dream, turning to him, asked, "Do you want to go home now?"
Although he wanted to say no, Hob nodded and replied, "I'm afraid I can't leave if I stay any longer. Everything is so easy here with you. But I also know I have to face reality if I want to move on." He put his hand on Dream's forearm, "I hope you understand."
Dream nodded reassuringly and pointed to the bump formed by the conch shell in Hob's pocket, "I won't be far away."
They walked to the front of the wall of water that opened onto the ocean and Dream, turning back to Hob, asked him softly, "Ready?"
Hob replied with a confidence he was far from feeling, "Yes."
Dream held out his hand and Hob grabbed it, finding himself once again in Dream's embrace as he said softly in his head, "You're going to feel like a pressure but it will pass quickly. Close your eyes and hold on to me."
Hob tied his arms around Dream and closed his eyes. He immediately felt a fleeting pressure as Dream had told him.
Then the merman said to him gently, "You may open your eyes."
Hob obeyed and was a little unsettled by the change of scenery. They were on the beach in front of his cottage and everything seemed clearer. Dream slowly released his embrace and Hob, feeling the loss, refrained from holding him back. But Dream didn't let go of his hand right away and they stayed there in an embarrassing silence not knowing what to say. Then Hob finally reluctantly let go of Dream's hand, stopping himself from taking it again.
He laughed awkwardly, "Well, I guess it's time for me to go."
Dream nodded and Hob heard his soft voice in his head, "Are you going to be okay? Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you for a while?"
Hob shook his head, "No Dream, you've already done a lot for me, it's time I pull myself together and I have to do it alone. Besides..." he patted the conch in his pocket before adding, "you're within earshot, right?"
Dream smiled softly and nodded, "I promise. Call me and I'll be there."
Hob didn't think twice, he stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Dream's cheek then turned to leave, whispering one last time, "Thank you."
As he walked toward his house, he didn't turn around, fearing he wouldn't be able to walk away if he did. He didn't see Dream following him with his eyes while bringing his hand to his rosy cheek.
Hob entered his house. He had only left it the day before, but it seemed like an eternity ago. He opened the windows letting the sunshine in the dark and dusty house, cleaned up, put away the boxes he hadn't unpacked since his move, went down to the village to do some shopping to fill his fridge. He took the time to chat with the locals, going beyond "hello, goodbye" and applying what he had decided to do. Dream had given him a new life and he intended to make the most of it, and that meant opening up to the people around him.
Dream...
"I miss him already," Hob said to himself as he walked up the small path that led him to his cottage. He thought back with affection about the merman. His miracle. Was it possible to become attached to a person so quickly? His reason told him no and his heart told him yes. And for once, Hob felt like listening only to his heart.
He put away his groceries and sat down in front of his computer, expecting the same lack of inspiration that had been his every time he tried to write lately. But without realizing it, his fingers began to twirl across the keyboard as ideas flowed through his mind. He wrote, filled with a motivation and inspiration he had not felt in a long time. He wrote and wrote, his fingers flying across his keyboard, he mechanically turned on his little desk lamp, not really realizing that it was getting dark. It was only later, when he stretched out in his desk chair, aching from sitting for so long, that he noticed it.
As he continued to stretch, he felt the conch in his pocket.
Dream...
Was it too soon?
Wouldn't Dream think he was clingy if he called him now?
Wasn't it too late?
Would Dream want to see him?
Would he keep his promise?
Hob took the conch out of his pocket and put it in front of his mouth. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Several times. Then he called himself an idiot for behaving like that. He had said he was going to take charge of his life. It was time to prove it.
He shook his head, took a deep breath and brought the conch to his lip, "D-"
He was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.
Wondering who it could be since he didn't know that many people in the area, he headed for the door, the conch still in hand.
He opened the door and could not hold back a small gasp.
Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3
#the sandman#the sandman netflix#dream of the endless#hob gadling#dreamling#dreamling fic#centennial husbands#centennial boyfriends#morpheus#morpheus x hob#hob x morpheus#dream x hob#hob x dream
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Hey!💜
Today,or rather a few hours ago I finished reading the book "My dark Vanessa" I read mostly on the balcony,then moved to my room.
I'm extremely creeped out by how much I identify with Vanessa. I shouldn't,because after all, I've never even kissed anyone. Yet I totally understand her deep, yet unreasonable feeling. I also feel her loneliness, the misunderstanding of her environment.
I get very emotional about every relationship in my life, it doesn't have to be a romantic relationship.
Also, I always get the impression that people understand my words completely differently than I do. Many times I have been taken as a troll or an ungrateful person because of this.
I will point out, however, that I do not justify what Vanessa's teacher did to her. His character fills me with disgust.
💮💮💮💮
Starting tomorrow I will start reading another novel with a teacherxstudent theme. It is not an English-language novel. It is a book from my country, so probably even the title won't tell you anything.
💮💮💮💮
I gathered my courage. I'm going to tell you why Reddit has deemed me a psycho.
It all started two years ago in March .
A and J said they were changing their job. My world collapsed. I asked them many times if they were leaving,and when I finally loosened up about it they really wanted to leave. I was not shocked by this. The owner of this physiotherapy camp really treats her employees like crap.
I guess I must have looked really bad at the time.
A several times she asked if she had done the right thing by telling me after all. After a while, we both decided that if they didn't tell me about their departure they would hurt me terribly.
It turned out that their new place of work was not a physical therapy camp, but a regular day physical therapy office.
My mother told me not to worry about anything, as their new workplace is much closer (300 km) than the camp (700 km)
She promised me that we would go there every month for an intensive week of physical therapy.
J said he was pleasantly surprised by my mom's attitude,as he was sure we would never see each other again.
Mom told me to sign up for the first possible date after the practice opened.
So I did.
However, it turned out that the office and the nearest hotel were five kilometers apart, which had to be covered by two buses.
Mom said it was too far, and she was afraid of changing buses, of missing the final stop.
She was not convinced by the fact that A and J offered the first bus ride together (if I arrived a day earlier).
They also tried to look for me a hotel closer to the office. Unfortunately, they found nothing.
Driving my mom's car is not an option,because my mom is afraid to drive further than our town.
I also don't have anyone else to go with,and I'm not physically independent enough to go alone
So unfortunately I had to cancel the reservation.
The second attempt was a year ago. Mom said it was necessary to start 2023 with something good.
Well, and everything ended the same way.
The new boss of A and J wrote me in an email that if I cancel my reservation again I will have to pay half the price of the treatments.
Recently my mother came up with the idea that we should go there with her friend who goes there with her son who also has cerebral palsy. Unfortunately, practically all the appointments for the rest of this year are taken (not counting the few available appointments)
The boss also said that for the fact that I canceled the reservation twice I will have to pay half the price before my arrival.
So far everything has been stuck.
I guess I needed to talk to someone about it,and since I didn't have too much with who, I started to post about it regularly on Reddit. I posted as my mother. I know it was a stupid thing to do. However, previous online experiences made it clear that I would be judged negatively as me.
Well, and when I posted as a mom actually users criticized her attitude.
I guess I wasn't getting enough attentions, because in the end I put all the posts on BestOfRedditUpdates
Users quickly discovered that I was me and not my mom, as I had posted other posts from that account as me.
I thought that if I posted it all there as me they would understand me.
Unfortunately, I was challenged as a lazy, ungrateful idiot. Many people felt sorry for my mother for having a daughter like me.
They also stated that I am obsessed with J
What hurt me the most was that I was considered a person who lives in a world of illusion and can't see that for A and J I am just a patient.
Even though A and J assured me of their fondness for me, I wonder if the Reddit users might have been right?
I'm glad I put all this emotions into the blog.
I wonder if I'll feel better afterwards?
💮💮💮💮
Going back to the book "My dark Vanessa " this picture from Pinterest reminds me very much of Vanessa. This is how I imagine Vanessa reading Lolita
#cerebral palsy#neurodivergent#neurodiverse stuff#physically disabled#hikikomori#teacher attachment#teacher crush#actually neurodivergent#older men crush#diary#teacher confessions#teacher x student#physical therapist crush#physical therapist#reddit#physical therapy#physical disability#bookworm#neurodiversity#my dark vanessa#Lolita#diary entry#long post#longing#i miss him
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(my) Mag a Week: Carnal Solitude
Hello there!
I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the second one, for what I randomly role "The Flesh" and "Archivist!Tim" (Eps. 9-18)
As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes,
Marla
Allons-y!
CW: Flesh usual content, Lonely usual content, swearing (once, I think), grieving, mentions of death and sickness, blood, loss of self, discussions about veganism (I dunno, I didn't want to be offensive but just in case)
Also on AO3!
Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding her physical transformation after trying to save her late fiancé’s life.
Recorded by Timothy Stoker, The Archivistest of The Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
I didn’t always look like this, I promise. Once upon a time…
Ha! Once upon a time… as if this was a fairy tale! I am afraid it couldn’t further from it.
Still, it’s the only way Ii se of starting my…well, misfortune.
Once upon a time, I had a properly functional mouth, with lips a normal size and the regular number of tongues. Not…this. However, Chance decided I was one to be miserable. I felt alone for such a long time…and I was fine with it. Loneliness had never felt like a burden to me; it wasn’t until I met Evan that I even contemplated the possibility of another option. And, apparently, everything would have been better had I stayed that way.
It all began when my fiancé, Evan, got extremely sick, barely…eight months ago. God, it feels as a lifetime already.
I guess, technically, it was.
For both of us.
The point is, Evan Lukas, my late fiancé, was diagnosed with a heart cancer; which I hadn’t even known was possible until that very moment. The doctors said he had a few months left if he got lucky. I didn’t want to ask whether living longer with poison being part of you was what they considered luckier; or if it was just barely clinging to dear life, even if you were barely a shadow of your former self.
Not that I needed to know, because I was going to find the cure; even if I had to renounce to my usual extremely professional attitude at work.
I am a chemist and I’ve written my thesis on manners to apply chemistry reactions to mutate human cells in vivo. It’s a rather unreachable situation in most contexts nowadays, but the theory is there, so I figured out I would just have to look upon it hard enough and I would find something, anything, that would help me to change Evan’s heart tumorous cells.
At the end, I found my longed solution on an apparently innocent thesis that was blacklisted in between the most obscure tomes (that I had reading in an almost compulsive fashion). I didn’t get why it was blacklisted until I read the name of the person who had written it: Kora Salesa.
If you aren’t into either contemporary urban legends and/or scientific gossip, you are likely not going to recognise the name; so I will explain (though I honestly believe people working in here should have a crystal clear notion on these matters).
Salesa is a surname well known in the mystic scene (sort of saying), especially since the patriarch of the family, Mikaele Salesa is one of the most powerful smugglers alive on Earth. He traffics mainly with objects of claimed especial abilities (though there is always a higher price to pay when acquiring them, apart from the monetary one) and, as a difference from most charlatans on his field, he is taken serious. Up to the point certain scientific research groups of prestige are looking into his work.
And, then, there is his first born, Kora Salesa. She was one of the very first people (not to say the only one in any noticeable manner) that spoke about his father’s illegal and unethical practices openly. There was only one thing she was most obsessed with than to make up for his father’s legacy…veganism.
Look, I am not against veganism. I actually try to contribute as little as possible to that fucking nightmare of an industry but she…she was one of the kind of “if you eat meat, you are a fascist” kind of person. And one with enough money to actually make a noticeable impact.
“Flesh belongs only to their original owner” was something she actually wore on a T-shirt. And it sold! Greatly!
Alas, she chose to make a career on biology and, I swear I am not kidding, proving meat almost ready for consumption could be implanted to alive animals for tissue regeneration. She got so deep into it the people closer to her said she had lost her mind and, one day, she just…disappeared.
Only her thesis left behind. According to some people, covered in different types of human tissue. From the inner vowels of the intestine to actual toe’s nails.
I used to think that all was…not very reliable but, after I saw the thesis itself, I started to question it myself. Especially, since it did something paper is definitively not supposed to do.
It bled.
The thesis was very well written, I must say, and, as much as she hated her father, she made good use of certain resources that are not precisely legal...but, from her extremely motivated point of view, I completely understand her attitude. One could argue mind is quite similar, come to think to it.
In less than a month, I have worked out a process that, I won’t enter into technical details but…it could work on Evan.
Excitement elevated me to an state I had never reached before of optimism.
I could really change his heart.
However, I wasn’t certain up to the extreme of being ready to properly test it on my beloved fiancé without previous experimentations and, since I didn’t have much going for me…I did it on myself, just by removing the kidney that had been dysfunctional since birth.
No big deal. At least, that was what I thought…
…again, it is not worth explaining the process if you don’t have a PdH and a lot of interest (and free time) but, just the very next week I saw the results, the tests confirmed it: my experiment had worked! And, yes, it is true I was kind of more hungry than usual and some of my toes looked a bit funny, but it felt as a worthy price to pay in order to cure my fiancé.
However, his family didn’t think the same thing and, once I entered his room, after having…er… convinced the man in charge of security to switch off all cameras for a little while, I found an extremely pale man in his late fifties, early sixties, huge, sailor clothes and hair as white as snow kneeling next to a completely still body.
“Sorry” he said with a voice much more affable that his aspects and actions game him any right to be. His sight never seeming capable of meeting my eyes. “I am afraid Flesh and Lonely don’t make a good match. Good luck with your new thing, you are going to need it” and, just like that, he was gone after my very first blink of utter confusion.
I didn’t even manage to go to the funeral. Actually, I don’t even know if there was a funeral, since the body of Evan…Let’s just say that, after the man I guess was another Lukas, murdered my fiancé I tried my best, but there was nothing there to bring to life.
I would have taken the conjunction of lumps, I swear, if he had only…being him even in the slightest.
He wasn’t, so I left. As empty of a shell as he was.
The very next morning, as I had my usual bacon with eggs for breakfast, I started noticing… something wrong with my arm.
A new bone, not so different from a chicken’s peak. And, later on, my nose started bleeding as it twisted into something reminiscent of a porcine one, instead of my usual button-like one.
The co-relation was so obvious I thought I was going to be able to control it but, you see, the more I got a clear notion of what was happening to me, stronger was the compulsion to consume meat grew.
Not Eat; Consume. There was no feeding in what I did, just assimilation and, when I stopped, it was my very own body the one that got…rather creative, almost as a punishment for not giving it new material to work on.
I can’t go on much more like this, I need it to stop… at any cost. So, I hoped that, since your relationship with the Lukas family is rather well known, perhaps I could get the end Evan did…
…pleas
Statement ends.
Woah! That was…I actually saw her but I would have never…she did that do herself, Jesus!
I bet Sasha would have very strong opinions, one she stops being sick…and, God, poor Martin! He was the one that helped Naomi when she collapsed, her finger literally falling from her hand as she tried to, well, be a good statement giver.
I wish we could keep track on her (though I strongly doubt Peter Lukas would do for her what he did for Evan), but, apparently, she went to see a witch named Angela and, after what happened to that mafia guy…
…I bet it is far too late for Miss Herne. At least, this time it would take longer to take away all her body parts.
No, honestly, jokes aside…I am so sorry for Naomi.
I am truly sorry.
Recording ends.
#a mag a day#a mag a week#mag horror#statement#original statement#au#the magnus archives#fanfic#tma#magnuspod#timothy stoker#naomi herne#the lukas family#fic#the flesh#the lonely
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Head cannons for yandere Obito x fem!reader who has stalkhome syndrome and just genuinely loves him bc she has like childhood trauma and just want someone to love&care about her please, and thank you also love your blog & keep up the good work
You had to wait long for this, but hope it was worth the wait. If I recall, I did something similar with him before in a request.
Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, kidnapping, delusions, manipulation, gaslighting, clinginess, paranoia, Stockholm syndrome, clinginess, s/o having childhood trauma(!), killing
Genuinely in love
🔥Being stuck with a man who has endless paranoia is bound to stain the darling at one point as well, his way of thinking and his fears slowly being projected on the darling as well. It is extremely difficult to not become as frightened and paranoid as he is, he gets the one or another way in your head and causes you to see the world just as dangerous as he views it. To the point where you will reach the point of being scared out of your mind when you don’t know where he is.
🔥Even if Obito doesn’t intend to harm his darling, he breaks her mentally with his actions and sees it as justified. So having his darling finally giving in to Stockholm syndrome and realizing that she starts appreciating him and loving him as well is medicine for his own insanity. Deep down he is just a man who was traumatized by having seen his best friend killing the girl he loved back then and Madara manipulating and using him. He’s scarred for life and never expected to fall in love again. But here the s/o is. Losing her as well will make Obito burn the world down.
🔥It increases his clinginess knowing that you love him now as well because Obito is starved for affection and love, he lived years alone and the isolation gets to him eventually after having met you. He just ends up smothering his darling even more than before. Life becomes for him a bit better now that he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore of you hating and resenting him, it is a bit soothing to be aware of this.
🔥I believe that the fact that his darling has some sort of childhood trauma, be that being neglected (because you mentioned she wants someone to love her and take care of her), he would see his actions only as even more justified and it boosts his beliefs that the whole world wants to take her away from him and that he should keep her somewhere safe locked away. And Obito will avenge his darling as well and by the time he is done, the place will be burned to ashes. He’s just beyond furious for whatever happened to his darling and people involved will pay the ultimate price for making her suffer.
🔥Maybe that is why he also starts believing himself to be the only person who can truly cherish and love you and the already not existing trust and faith he has in other people just gets dragged in the mud even more. And Obito will use these arguments against you all the time. He saved you because no one did anything to help you and whatever the core of your trauma, your deepest fear is, he will drill the belief into you that as long as you’re outside, it’ll keep tormenting you. Now if your fear really does involve abandonment issues or anything connected with humans making you paranoid of others will be fairly easy and with him as the only person who takes care of you and looks after you, all the loneliness will eventually get to you as well.
🔥Knowing that his darling had to go through trauma doesn’t help his anxiety in the slightest though, he only becomes even more overbearing because he wants to comfort his darling like this. And even if you don’t want any of this in the beginning, he only really can think that because of the places and people outside you have some sort of trauma in the first place, and that whilst you were still a child. Isn’t that already proof enough that the world as it currently is is nothing, but bullshit? It didn’t treat you right, but he will. He will take care of you and love you and he will create a better world where you don’t have to be afraid anymore.
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Happy birthday my prince
Happy birthday to my prince Tamaki, who's to blame for my extremely high standards for men <3
tamaki x fem reader
0.7k words
warnings: just some kissing
"y/n are you okay?" Tamaki had turned to you with a worried look.
Ok. To be fair you had been staring at him in silence for a while.
"Can't handle a pretty girl looking at you Suoh?"
Tamaki entered host mode, he threw his head back and smiled.
"Well being around such a beautiful young lady as yourself makes me a bit nervous, I do apologize."
The both of you started laughing.
The mood felt so nice, you were both sitting outside on the grass after school while a gentle breeze blew.
Tamaki turned his gaze to the sky, taking in how clean it was that afternoon.
While he was focused on the sky you admired his face.
His sharp jawline, the way his hair seemed to glow in the sun and how the breeze ruffled it, the way his violet eyes had the power to charm anyone, his smile that you had never seen turn into a frown-
"Y/n" apparently he had been talking to you while you stared at him, again.
"Sorry just zoned out again"
"Many women have fallen completely powerless to my looks, it's understandable that you were simply mesmerized by me."
Ok to be fair he wasn't wrong, but you would never admit it out loud.
Not knowing what to say you just laughed and he smiled, returning his gaze to the sky.
"You know, this just might be the best birthday I've had since I left my dear mother."
He was still smiling but you could sense the sadness in his voice.
"You still miss her a lot?" You were cautious, his mother wasn't a topic Tamaki liked to bring up a lot.
"More than anything in this world, there is no price I wouldn't pay to be able to hug my mother, even if just for one second."
You chose your next words carefully, terrified of saying something that might hurt his feelings.
You put your hands over Tamaki's and spoke softly.
"I'm sure she's just the most wonderful lady, she raised the kindest, most thoughtful son anyone could ask for."
Tamaki didn't move his hand from under yours, instead he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.
"She would love you, you guys are more similar than anything. You both have this look in your eyes that make it seem like you're amazed at everything around you, as if this world could do you no harm"
You had a feeling Tamaki had more he wanted to say so you stayed silent.
After a couple seconds he spoke again.
"Before meeting the host club I spent my birthdays alone, my father and grandmother would acknowledge it of course but nothing more, and those were the days I missed my mother the most. After meeting the host club the loneliness I felt every year vanished and was replaced by the feeling of belonging somewhere, I belonged to a family, a family I had picked myself."
He turned to face you and grabbed both your hands, planting a gentle kiss on both of them.
"This year is even better, I have a woman I love at my side. Just sitting here beside you has made this the best birthday I've had in a while."
Your entire body tingled and your heart was fluttering, this was the first time Tamaki had said he loved you. Sure, his actions had always let you know he cared for you deeply but this was the first time he's said the words out loud.
You cupped his face and brought it closer to yours, your voice was barely above a whisper.
"If it depends on me you'll never feel alone again, you're not getting rid of me so easily Suoh"
Tamaki couldn't hold it in anymore. Your lips that close to his own, lips he knew were incredibly soft, your intoxicating smell, and the warmth of your body were too much for him.
At first he kissed you softly, but then he remembered that no one would be at school at this time since Kyoya thought today there should be no host club in honor of Tamaki's birthday.
He slowly inserted his tongue inside your mouth.
You opened your mouth, giving him entrance and grabbing him by his collar with both hands, deepening the kiss.
You were both lost in a trance when your phone rang and snapped you both out of it.
You picked up and heard Kyoya speaking
"Everything ready? got it, we'll be there in a couple minutes."
you hung up and turned to Tamaki, who wasn't understanding anything.
"Well my sweet prince, there is a surprise awaiting you in music room number 3, bur first."
You pushed him down to the ground and climbed on top of him, he was already glowing red.
"We have a few minutes to spare."
#kyoya ootori#ouran high school host club headcannons#aot headcanons#ouran high school host#ohshc#tamaki suoh#ohshc x reader#ohshc anime#ohshc tamaki
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Rest
Summary: The holidays exhaust you, mentally and physically. When you go to get up for a yet another early shift at work, Loki keeps you in bed via cuddle lock.
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Warnings: detailed descriptions of what retail workers go through when they have bad days at work taken from personal experience and the experience of the person for which I am writing this, crying, anxiety, feelings of loneliness, hurt/comfort.
A/N: This is a late Christmas present for @ragnarachael, to cheer her up after what has been (for her) a very hard and exhausting Christmas season. Anyone else who needs this can use it as a way to help themselves. I just wanted to cheer up a friend, so that she knows that she is in fact wonderful and good enough, even when bad days arise.
You wake up the morning after Christmas Day, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. The alarm clock reads 6:45 A.M, and it yells at you. It also blinds you, interrupting the darkness behind your eyelids with white light.
WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE—
You click the alarm off with a muffled groan. You struggle to move, your eyes betraying you and getting used to the darkness yet again. Your body betrays you as well, slowly getting used to the warmth the covers provide you. Sleep seems quite inviting. Those sleeps where you wake up earlier than you want, but then go back to sleep to get those last few hours in? Heavenly.
Also lovely when you have someone beside you to trap you in his arms as if to say, “Don’t go. It’s not time yet, and I still want you here.”
Sometimes, he says that literally.
Loki hates it when you have to get up early. He hates having the feeling of your body beside him be taken away by your job. Sometimes, your schedule is quite nice, with weekends off and shorter shifts on more days during the week to leave you with time for leisure. When it isn’t like that it’s horrible, with multiple days during the week but with longer shifts, and the weekends taken up as the cherry on top. In addition, sometimes you have to get up early. Very early. Like, being there when the store you work at opens to no one early.
This time, it is a Saturday, and you have to get up early. The day after Christmas.
You had had a two-day break with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Before Christmas Eve you had worked a couple of days in a row.
The holidays completely exhaust you. Christmas especially is probably the worst season to be a retail worker. You’re stuck at the register for your entire shift, waiting for the unhappy customers who, unfortunately, take their confusion and dissatisfaction on you, the person who has no control over what you sell, what you have sold out of, and your prices. Of course, this happens year-round, but due to the hectic nature of the Christmas shopping season, the general unhappiness of the human race is revealed even more.
Every day, your feet ache from standing for hours on end, and every day you go in, you dread working with people who don’t care about you and working for people who don’t appreciate you. On very special days, you are practically yelled at, and then you have to go into the bathroom on your break to cry your way out of your anxiety.
The only good thing about working today will probably be how the Christmas season is drawing to a close. This means less busy days, less busy people, fewer moments with your managers that leave you shaky and terrified.
With that thought doing a little bit to motivate you, you move to get out of bed.
However, you’re held back. Loki’s arms are around you before you can tell, and their grip from behind is warm and comforting - not at all helping you to get out of bed.
“Stay,” is what he pleads. Rather than hearing a groggy voice filled with annoyance at your movements, you hear one that is softer, quieter, “Stay here, please.”
“Loki,” you protest, fighting sleepily against his grip, “I have - I have to get ready, you know that. I—”
“No, you don’t,” he says, waking up fully now. His eyes open and, upon seeing you fidgeting against him, he lets go of you only slightly. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Why?” you ask, grateful that he has allowed you to turn around and look at him. You are not mad, just a little annoyed, but your tired brain is unable to let that show. “I’ll be home right afterward.”
He sighs, breathing in and out deeply through his nose. “Sweetheart, you’ve been working all week. You try so hard to mask what’s bothering you, but I know you, and I know how you are with these things. You’re exhausted, you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillows, and every day you have to go into that dreaded workplace, I see you as if you have a weight on your shoulders. I can tell, you dread working there with those people. You hate the schedules, you hate how they treat you. You hate the time spent away from home, from me. So, why do you keep going when it’s in your better interest to stay?”
“Money pays the bills,” you say with a sigh of your own.
“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m a prince, and I was once a king. We’re married. If you take me up on one of my many offers, you’ll never have to work again.”
“Stop that,” you say. “Please. I appreciate it, but I can’t depend on you for that. I’ll feel bad about it.”
“You shouldn’t,” Loki says. “I want to do that for you.”
“I am aware, but I don’t want that for either of us. I’d rather play a part in our living.” You move to get up again, but that’s when Loki moves as well, taking you in his arms for the second time.
“Loki!” you whisper angrily, “I have to—”
“No,” he says, a little more stern now. “You do not have to go in today.”
“Why is that?” you huff.
“Because you need to rest.”
“Loki, please let me go, I need to go. I’m supposed to be in the shower already, that’s why I woke up so early.”
“If you will not accept my offer for our future, at least accept this. Accept the rest you obviously need and deserve.”
You have a hard time being mad at him. Yes, you’re annoyed but mad? Never. You sigh. “Loki. I have to work.”
“Do you want to?” he asks.
“No,” you say without hesitation. “Of course I don’t. But I know I have to. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t go.”
“So there are a lot of reasons you need to go, and those are all valid reasons, but you’re not thinking of one thing: your health.”
“I feel fine.”
“Do not try to lie to me. You’re not ‘fine’, as much as you’d like to convince both of us that you are. As I said before, you’re exhausted, and you’re mentally drained whenever you go. You often come home in tears, but you practically fall asleep as soon as we get to bed, so I cannot comfort you. How I wish that you would see this… I want to help you, to give you strength and rest and love, all things you deserve.”
“Loki—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
All this time, Loki’s voice continues to remain gentle. It’s nice to see that despite your persistence, he is not mad at you.
You squirm, trying to get out of his arms. At this point you might even have to call into work, saying you’ll be late. Sorry, my husband wouldn’t let me out of bed. What kind of excuse is that?
His grip holds. “Stay,” he whispers, and suddenly you feel tears rising in your eyes.
You haven’t realized, all this time during the holidays, that you’ve missed him. You’ve missed your husband so much, but seeing him has been hard. With your long hours and your exhaustion and your anxiety, it has been extremely difficult to see Loki and to spend any time with him. He doesn’t seem concerned about this himself, not too much, but he only seems concerned about you, and that makes you feel even worse.
But still, he misses you, too.
“No,” you whisper back.
“Stay...”
Your eyes shut and the tears pour down. “No!”
“Stay here. Stay here with me.”
You stop struggling, completely breaking down and crying fully into your pillow. He lets you go, realizing how you are. Then, with a small, sad sigh, he turns you around to face him. You’re practically limp, motionless as you sob.
“Sweetheart...” he croons, his voice low and soft and everything you’ve been missing. “Sweetheart, c’mere...”
You cling to him, relishing in his touch as he draws you to him for the first time in what seems like years. Your breathing is choppy, rough, and you cannot seem to get yourself calmed down. It’s as if everything you’ve shut out from your mind these past few weeks has been completely unlocked and has come crashing down onto you.
All the while, Loki keeps you close, shushing you gently and rubbing your back in circles. He calls you the prettiest words and praises you as you cry:
“I know, my love, I know. I’ll take care of you. Of everything.
“That’s it, sweetness, let it all out for me.
“This is just one simple thing you need: a good, long rest and some time with someone who loves you. Just rest here with me. I have you here, and I’m not letting go of you.”
As you cry, you notice your exhaustion taking hold of you again. Though it doesn’t seem possible, the covers seem more warm and even more inviting, and the darkness seems to make your eyes even more heavy.
Loki’s hands keep themselves on the back of your head and on your back, all warm and strong and still infinitely tender. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead, all the while continuing to comfort you in the best way he knows how.
“I love you. I love you so much and it breaks my heart to see you this way. You deserve so much... and you haven’t been accepting anything for yourself. You need to do that, beloved.
“But don’t... don’t worry. My love, I’m here. Here to help you. For now, let’s stay here. Stay here together. You need this, and you know it. I love you so much, my dearest. I love you with all my heart.”
#loki x reader#loki fanfic#loki odinson#loki of asgard#loki#loki friggason#marvel#mcu#mcu loki#loki odinson x reader
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Who would be on your list of morally grey royal sims? I'm curious 🤔
Ooh, that's a good idea for a list! After racking my brain I've noticed that a lot of these gray characters can be divided into these general categories:
Cheaters: Obviously, cheating is a moral wrong, but it is also a "sin" that can affect the perpetrator as negatively as the person they have cheated on. Sometimes the motivations for cheating are empathetic, such as loneliness, a loveless/toxic marriage. But sometimes they're not, it's just simple lust. People who cheat often get alienated from their families or they even feel extreme remorse or guilt. Does that compensate for the pain they've caused? That depends on who you ask.
- @royalfamilyofgrimalldi’s Crown Prince Maximilian
- @thevalencianroyals’s Philip (RIP)
- @royalhouseofcarrington’s King Richard
- My own head of state King Louis V wasn’t very faithful to Irene back in the 70s and 80s (when his kids were being born, yikes . . .)
Murderers and attempted murders: Murder is clearly more serious than just cheating on someone, but it is interesting to see how the murder justifies taking another person’s life. What drives another person to take someone’s life? Revenge? A need for power? Envy? Or maybe something more understandable, like self-defence or maybe they were in a war.
- Again the royal family of Monaca with multiple examples: Morana and Helena, and Trevor
- The stalker from @wa-royal-tea
- Regina @royaldevilliers
- Any and all sims who participated in both Great Sim Wars. Can’t have a war without death. And there were certainly those who committed acts of terror that lead to huge losses of life during those wars and then there was those who just wanted to survive and return home
Assholes: These sims are just plain mean. They get off on making other people feel worse about themselves. Asshole sims come in two groups: the ones who punch down and once who punch up. Those who punch down typically do so out of an inflated ego, those who punch up are often just envious. A lot of these characters are just insurance and take that out on others.
- @thesimsroyalfam’s Gideon punches down on his cousins all the time. He even goes as far as to ruin their romantic relationships. What’s is the issue? I think part of the issue is that his mother clearly doesn’t put him in his place enough
- Nina’s Bella at the beginning of her arc was TOTALLY punching up at Sofia. Trying to ruin her marriage with Darien and paying the price for it.
- My own Phillip is just not a nice person to be around. He’s arrogant, brusque, and hot-headed. But don’t worry, he gets humbled soon enough.
Ambiguity: You just don’t know if this character is fake or genuine??? What do these people want!? Who knows?! Maybe they’re a master manipulator or just a give distrustful energy that puts people off.
- I’m sorry but @ourwillowcreekroyals’ Charlotte. Who her grandmother is is no coincidence! The way she treated Liv at first was just vile and I think she’s just being nice to try and rub up with Davy now that he’s hit a rough patch with Olivia.
- Nina’s Jack. I just don’t trust him! He’s too pushy, too creepy, and I just can’t forget how he threw bb girl down the stairs like that.
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The Studio — Hoseok
Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)
Wordcount: 9.6k words
Genre: (lots of) smut, angst, final fluff
Rating: 18+
Hello cuties! Welcome back! I had assumed I would be done with Hobi’s piece in the studio quite soon, however it took me some extra hours. Writing it was extremely difficult! Let me remind you that this is NSFW, so minors, please do not read or interact.
PSA — If you’re interested, I was thinking of making a taglist, so you’ll receive a note on your activity feed whenever I publish a new piece (since I know sometimes app notifications do not work). Also, in the next two or three weeks I’ll be busy with university, so I don’t think I’ll be able to write full one-shots. This means I’ll be posting small drabbles that will help me lay the groundwork for all the filth I’ve been storing away from you (and that I’ve hinted in the masterlist). The polls will stay open and you’ll be able to vote for next prompt, however it will take me a while before I start writing again according to your requests.
This piece is a one shot and it takes place in some indefinite future in the official timeline, shortly after him and Giggles have moved in together (quick reminder, Giggles is the nickname he has given the reader, however if you want to know how I imagined her, you can find her headcanons here).
Synopsis: Giggles has been a little uncomfortable after she has moved into his apartment, mostly because his job has kept him from going back home. After a week of struggle, she heads to Hoseok’s studio to grab her man with the help of special weapons.
DESCRIPTION AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst at the beginning, reader is upset and cries. Other than that, this is filthy. NSFW, contains several BDSM themes, such as domination (Dom!reader, Switch!Hoseok and a fluffy dose of vanilla sex because I needed to cleanse my soul), rope bondage (wrists), blindfold, sensation play and mild impact play (flogger, hinted riding crop and tickler), pretty intense edging, teasing, oral sex and masturbation (both male and female receiving), squirting, MULTIPLE ROUNDS (it’s Hoseok, come on!). Emotionally challenging: Hoseok feels guilty as hell, reader is quite angry, but they’re both lovesick puppies by the end of it. Special warning: one bratty Jimin appears at the end of the piece.
Word count: 9.6k
Here is my masterlist! Enjoy!!!
——————————————————
A lowfi mix came from behind Hoseok’s door. He was probably just chilling as he worked on something else. It wasn’t uncommon for him to listen to random stuff as he looked for inspiration, especially since he was currently trying to work with a more old school R’n’B vibe. He had a new artist he wanted to collaborate with and this new genre was becoming increasingly challenging, especially since he wanted it to have that early Two-thousand flow, reminding him of that time he had started venturing into Western hip hop, thinking about dates and girls and teenage crushes.
The bag felt a bit heavier on your shoulder now that the music showed you his mindset. This could turn into a very one-of-a-kind type of night.
You knocked at the door. The music turned down a notch, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had heard right.
Hesitantly, shutting your eyes tight, you knocked harder before pressing your hand to your chest, curling around it in fear. Hoseok could be harsh when interrupted: though he usually realised and apologised, seeing him mildly disappointed always gave you a chill down your spine, and not the good one.
His shadow appeared from behind the opaque glass door.
The door unlocked and opened. “Hey, hello there.” His expression was blank for a second before he realised you were quite neutral, as if trying to square yourself before seeing him.
Something caved in your chest. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Hi.”
“Are you coming in?” He asked.
“I only wanted to ask when you’re coming back home.” You said, your lip slightly trembling.
He blinked.
“I’ve texted you and called you, but you didn’t reply.”
He blinked twice. “What time is it?”
You exhaled and made to turn around and walk away.
“Giggles.” He called, chasing after you and catching you in his arms, backhugging you. “Baby.”
“No. I’m done with baby and all of that. I’m fucking done.” Tears started falling. Your plan had gone to hell. All your mental briefings and getting yourself in the right mindset were useless by now. The bag made you feel twice as frustrated. “I am tired, Hoseok.”
That made him feel like a scolded puppy. You had never uses that tone with him, never used his full name while scolding him.
“I am tired.” Now that your first tear was spilled, all the others came out without any control. “I am exhausted.”
He pressed you harder into him. “I promise it will end soon.” He smiled as he saw you turn and hide into him.
“I am tired of your promises. You made me move in and then disappeared for a week straight. I don’t know where I can put my stuff, I had to handle transport, to talk with my landlord, to do everything by myself. And I’ve been doing double shifts all week. I am raw with exhaustion and I’ve had absolutely zero support.” You sobbed, pressing your pointer finger into his chest, before laying your punch against his breastbone, angry and tired and accusing. “You were supposed to be my certainty but you gave me fucking nothing.” He flinched when he heard you swore. You never swear at him. The fact that you’ve done it twice in the same argument spoke volumes about how angry you were. “You were supposed to give me certainties. But you don’t even answer to my texts.” You punched him weakly. “I hate you so much.”
Now he was worried. Heavily worried. Anxious. “Let’s get in the studio, ____. Come on, love.”
“I don’t want to come in.”
He shook his head, tipping your chin back. “I said, come in.”
“You don’t get to order me around, Hoseok. Not like this. I’ve been doing everything you’ve asked me. I’ve been saying ‘yes, sir’ to every single one of your requests and look where that brought me.” You shoved your face away, out of his grasp.
He cupped your face with both hands. “Look at me.” He ordered. He tried again, softening his voice, panicking as you strongly opposed. “Look at me, little bird.”
You obeyed. It was the fucking nickname’s fault.
“Come in with me. I want to talk about this, make up for my mistakes.” He dried your tears with his thumbs. “I want you to tell me how to fix this. What you want me to do.” He combed your hair back with gentle fingers. “You say I keep ordering you around, and that has made you unhappy. I want to turn the tables. Let you order me what to do.” He started taking tiny steps backwards, toward his door, waddling with you in your arms. “This is the last time I beg you to do what I’ve asked you, for tonight. After this you’re absolutely free, Giggles. It’s all up to you, but please, let’s talk it out in my studio.”
You sniffled. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He smiled weakly.
You followed him.
The studio was clad in soft lights, the bass of the song making the air in the room feel like a warm, inviting, sultry cocoon. He moved to the desk, making the music nothing but a quiet whisper. “Let’s sit on the sofa over there, yeah?” He sat down and patted the cushion beside him.
Reluctantly, you sat down, removing your jacket and placing the bag beside you, on the floor.
“I made a mistake. I didn’t support you. I am sorry. I’ve been busy with my job but that is not an excuse, nor a good reason to disappear while you’re struggling.” He admitted.
“I’ve been sleeping in that bed alone for a week. It was heartbreaking.” You said with a furrowed brow and a pout. “It hurt so much that sadness became anger.”
He combed his hair with his hands. “I fucked up.”
“You did.” You confirmed. “I can handle a bit of loneliness. I’ve been alone for a long time. But that hurts inside your house.”
“It’s our house now.” He argued, deeply unhappy.
“Is it now?” You accused.
You saw his expression turn hurtful. “Are you going to leave?” He said, afraid that that would be his punishment. He knew there would be a price to pay, he just hoped it wouldn’t cost him his whole happiness with you.
“I can’t handle it now. Plus I don’t have much choice. It’s either there or my parents but I can’t move out of the city and do double shifts at work.” You said. “I’m stuck here because I trusted you. Because I gave up all my alternatives for you. You told me to trust you, that I could count on you. What am I going to do now?”
You looked so broken. He felt his eyes well with tears. His voice came out shaky. “Tell me what to do. Anything.”
“You’re gonna do what you want anyways.” You said, a bit hostile.
“No. Please, can you tell me what to do?” He tried to hold your hand. You let him.
“I want you home tonight.” You said, naming your price.
“Okay.” He felt ready to do anything. If you asked him to fly all the way to Paris and bring a box of macarons, champagne and fresh red roses, he would simply whip his phone out and look for the next flight. Fuck, he would teach himself how to fly a plane if need be.
“I want you home every night for the next week. I want dinner together.” You said, punching your index finger into your thigh. “You can use your home studio after dinner, I don’t care, you can stay up all night, but I swear if I have to fall asleep one more night alone in that damn bed, I’m going to gut you.”
“Okay.” He hadn’t come back home because he knew that having you around would mean getting no work done, as he much preferred giving you attention and laying down with you, watching a movie or putting to good use that big bed of his.
“And I want cuddles.”
“Yes, love.”
“Daily cuddles.”
He smiled as you contested like a child. “Yes, little bird.”
“And I want sex at least once a week for the next month.” You said, knowing that you could have much better than that, but you were aiming at the bare minimum.
“Once a week?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.
“At least.”
That had him nodding. “Can do.”
“Pinkie promise.”
He smiled wider, hooking his pinkie with yours. “Pinkie promise.” As you pressed your thumbs together, sealing the deal, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “What now? Can I hug you?”
“No. Go lock the door.” He looked at you dubious.
“Lock it.” You repeated.
He stood up and obeyed. “Now what?”
The negotiation had set you back into your original path. You had come for revenge and you were ready to execute it. “On your chair.” He was going to see how it feels to be powerless. Lost. Alone.
His heartbeat started increasing. He wanted to see where your plan was going to take him. He sat on his chair. “Here.”
“Close your eyes.” Your voice shook a little. You cleared it and said again: “Close your eyes, now.”
He bit his lip. He was getting turned on. A part of himself asked him how sick he must be for this, but he followed your lead, closing his eyes and laying his hands on the armrests. “Are you going to punish me?”
You shook your head before realising that he couldn’t see your movements. “I am going to do as I please.”
He snickered.
“Quiet.” You warned quietly.
He licked his lips and regained his composure. “Sorry.”
You bent and opened the bag. You found your first bundle and started unraveling it, walking back and forth in front of the sofa, stopping with your back to him.
“Take off your clothes.”
“Really?” He asked, incredulous.
“Do I look like I am joking?” You replied from over your shoulder.
“Okay.” He undressed quickly, letting his clothes fall to the floor. “Do you want me to...”
“Quiet.” You repeated.
He closed his eyes and bent his head down. He was naked on the chair, unsurprised by his own erection.
You took a few steps towards him. As soon as you reached him, you gave him further instructions. “Do not open your eyes. I am going to touch you but if you open your eyes, you won’t like the consequences.”
“Wait.” Hoseok murmured. “How are you feeling now?”
You stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Are you angry at me?” Hoseok asked, his voice meek, hesitant, unhappy. “I’ve never seen you like this. I’m worried.”
You couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t tie him up and torture him to tears, break him like that. Even though you really wanted to.
“I’m angry a bit, yes.” You replied. You exhaled, waiting in silence.
“I don’t think we should be doing this, then.” He suggested quietly. “I’ll be honest. You’re scaring me a little.”
You placed the rope on top of the desk, out of his angle of vision. “Open your eyes”, you said, placing your hands on his cheeks. His stare met yours. “What if I tell you my plans and you tell me if you’re okay with it?”
He pressed his face against your belly, kissing it. “I’m so sorry.” He nuzzled into your shirt. “I feel so bad.”
You moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair. “This is how I’m helping you with your guilt.” You massaged his shoulders. “I want to take care of you. You must have been so stressed here.”
“I’m the one at fault. I should be the one taking care of you.” He said with big puppy eyes. He looked up at you with his chin propped against your stomach.
“You can take care of me by letting me take the lead. Right now I need to feel like I can control something.” You traced his lips with your thumb, your index finger tracing the ridge of his nose with its lovely curve.
“Then control me.” He said, puckering his lips around your thumb.
“Are you still scared of me?” You asked.
“I’m scared of you going too far or pushing myself too far to please you.” He confessed. “But it’s something unconscious. I know I can trust you.”
“Still, I could tell you my plans.” You suggested sweetly.
“I trust you.”
“You don’t have to do stuff you don’t feel like doing just to please me.” You reminded him politely.
“That’s why we have safewords. When I don’t feel good I’ll use them.” He said, matter-of-factly. “They’re not there only for you.” He smiled.
You were quite curious about how his nakedness seemed to unfaze him. But then again, after more than a year together, at this point nakedness in front of each other felt natural.
“Don’t push yourself just to please me.” You scolded him.
“I won’t. If I don’t feel good, we stop and I’ll make love to you.” He stated plainly.
You thought about it. After all this time you knew Hoseok’s limits and insecurities. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He settled back into his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. He closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”
His chest was so skinny. It felt like staring at a hummingbird. “Are you keeping your eyes closed or would you like a blindfold?”
He smiled. “Kinky.” He breathed out. He paused. “Blindfold.”
You smirked and grabbed it from your backpocket. You already knew he would have chosen to wear it. “I will touch you now Hoseok. Let’s see if you can recognise it.” You stretched towards the rope on his table, keeping it rolled up and brushing it gently against his face.
“Oh.” He rubbed his cheek against it, pressing his lips and then parting them to use his tongue. “I’m getting tied up, aren’t I?” He asked.
“Would you like to?” You asked. Blindfolded and tied up was always a daring combination. You had first done it for his birthday, but back then you hadn’t intended to overstimulate him to tears. That time you had simply used your advantage to give him the ride of his life, physically restraining him from taking control and straining himself to please you. The bondage technique had helped you keep him still long enough to relax. After almost literally sucking him dry, you had managed to ride him, watch him come apart for the fourth time and see him fall asleep like a kid at your side, not a care in the world. It had been a wildly satisfying experience.
“Are you going to use me like last time?” He asked, eyes still closed but his hands reaching out for you.
“Not really.” You commented. “I was thinking of something… softer? So to say.” You bit your lip. He couldn’t see your devious smile anyway.
“I’m interested.” He said, blindly running his hands down your thighs. “Tell me what to do.”
Clutching the rope between your thighs, you used one hand to comb his hair and trace the lovely lines of his face. “I’ll put the blindfold on you now, Hoseok. Is that okay, handsome?”
“Yes.” He said, his cheeks twitching with a small smile.
Putting a blindfold on someone else is a lot more difficult than it seems, however you managed to press the wide silken mask against his eyes, hooking the elastic band with your fingers and slipping it behind his head. “Is it safe?”
“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, turning his head in an attempt to kiss your wrist. You noticed the gesture and offered him your hand, brushing the back of it against his cheek. He managed to press his lips to your knuckles. “I love you.”
You bent down and let your lips hover over his. “Can you feel me?”
“So close.” He whispered. Sometimes he had this sixth sense, like his body — so used to perceive himself in time and space while dancing — had this special sensibility to closeness. Depriving him of sight made it look even more supernatural. It made you feel like he could perceive you spiritually. It felt religious. Metaphysical. You had missed this connection and you had been craving it for a while.
“Can you kiss me, Hoseok?”
He licked your lips in reply, his mouth hanging open, his lower lip brushing against yours so sensually that you envelopped it in yours, sucking.
He moaned, your eyes closing as you felt your body reach another level of arousal. It felt extraordinary. It felt like you were making love to your own body through his nakedness and arousal. Feeling this wanted, exploiting this bond between the two of you, the way your body mirrored his sensations, it was stronger than anything you had ever experienced.
You let go of his lip. “I’m gonna start tying you up now. This is the right moment to stop me, bub.”
“Keep going.” He said, his voice slightly gravelly.
“Okay.” You moved around the chair, studying how to use your prop smartly.
You noticed two thin metal tubes connecting the headrest to the back of the chair. Interesting. You unravelled your bundle of rope and found the middle quickly thanks to the mark placed there.
You remembered Hoseok coming back home with a big box, placing it on top of the coffee table as you were chilling on the sofa. “I want it cut, marked and hemmed by nine o’ clock.” He had said, voice dark, as he offered you a sewing kit and a fabric meter. “You’ll find instructions in the box.” He kissed your head as you sat on the floor and opened the box, dumbfounded. “I can’t use it tonight, but I’ll reward you if you do a good job.” Inside there was one entire spool of rope: the tag read “a hundred meters - pure cotton”. You spent the rest of the evening attending to your chore. Once you were done, you went knocking at Hoseok’s door. He spent the rest of the night repaying you for your fine accomplishment.
“Can you place your hands on your nape” You asked, noticing that he did so immediately.
“Thank you.” You chirped as you started tying him up, placing two fingers between his skin and the rope to make sure you didn't tighten too much. The position was delicate since his blood circulation could be affected by his forearms being upside down, tying the knot too tight would inevitably mean worsening the situation.
Once his wrists were safely secured to the small steel tube, you checked on him. “Is it good, bubs? Too tight?”
“I'm good, thank you, Giggles.” He replied.
“I’m going to grab my bag quickly. I’ll be a few steps away for a couple seconds, bubs.” You said, making sure that he didn’t panic as you stepped away.
A sultry, suggestive song came on, a slow Nineties hip hop track. It was inspirational, especially as you picked up your bag and placed it on top of his desk, near you and his chair, making sure that you wouldn’t need to leave him alone for longer than a couple seconds. Any person with a sliver of common sense would understand it is an awfully bad idea to leave someone bound, blindfolded and unguarded.
You stood in front of him with your hands behind your back and bent to his ear. “I’m here.” You murmured before standing up and dragging your nails down his neck and chest, stopping right at his stomach without neglecting his nipples, circling around them a couple times. He looked delicious, his cock hard and leaking on his lower abs. You observed the twitching of his slim shaft, the lovely curve of it, the taunting pink of his tip glimmering with wetness.
Teasingly, biting your lip, you gathered some of his precum on your fingertip, his lips parting with a purring sound.
“Giggles, please.” He whined.
You smiled as he exhaled, his mouth hanging open, and you deviously slipped your fingertip past his lips.
“Can you taste how turned on you are, Hobi?” You murmured, pressing your digit against his tongue.
He bit down playfully before twirling the tip of his tongue around your finger.
Giggling, you removed it.
“Does it tickle?” He asked.
You licked your lip. “Maybe.”
He shook his head just as you punished his disrespect with a gentle slap on his cheek. “You’re in no position to play games, Hoseok.”
He regained his composure. “Sorry.”
You shook your head yourself, standing up and moving behind him. His sides were vulnerable with his hands tied up and behind his head. You started thinking how you could use this against him. For now you simply decided that his inner forearms were normally sensitive enough to be a good starting point. He always started from your inner forearms. Drawing lines and twirls with your nails, you saw him shiver, his mouth gaping.
“You’ve moved.” He murmured, his fingers wiggling as he searched for contact, giving up once he noticed there was no chance. Daring and playful, you tickled his palms, moving so quickly that he didn’t manage to grab you.
His inner upper arm was even more sensitive, however touching it would mean that he would probably be able to touch you back. You could use something to reach out. You stood back, circling around the chair. It was a lot more complicated now. You had thought that seeing him like this would immediately tell you what you wanted to do to him. You had packed a variety of supplies in case sudden inspiration struck you, but now your lack of planning and your excess of toys confused you even more.
You had him naked and tied up to a quite limiting armchair. You knew your goal was to stimulate him as much as possible, listen to his pretty whines and watch him grow more and more desperate. Get him turned on out of his mind. Surprise him.
Kneeling, you patted his knees with your palms. “Open up.”
He inched his hips forward, his torso slouching against the back of the chair, his thighs parting further. “More?” He asked.
“Perfect.” You said, kissing his knees.
“Oh, you’re gonna do it like the other time?” He asked, bucking his hips up and slouching further. “You wanna blow me?”
You smiled, sending a cold breath running up his inner thigh.
His moan followed like a tide, like sunlight chasing the horizon at sunset.
You mirrored the gesture on the other leg, satisfied with the effect you had just elicited. “Do you want me to?” You asked, referring to his proposition.
“Your choice, Giggles.” He murmured, his reply melting into a ‘fuck, yeah’ as you licked up his thigh.
He could imagine your bubblegum pink tongue against the pale skin of his inner leg, your eyelids fluttering closed as you brought your tongue closer to his cock.
He had the softest baby hair on his inner leg. You wondered how it could be so thin and soft. Once you reached his crotch, you parted your mouth from his skin, your hot breath fanning on the sensitive head of his cock. Making sure that your hair was out of the way, you kissed the skin of his abdomen following the shadow that his sex projected on his belly. The point was that of being that close but not touching him.
It turned a bit more difficult when his hips jerked in an attempt to connect his cock with your lips while you sucked a love bite right on top of where his tip was laying. You moved back. “Stay still, Hoseok. Don’t make me tie up your legs too.” You warned. He huffed out a strained breath and shivered as you continued your trip down the other side with small kisses, finally licking down the other thigh, sitting back on your heels and placing a sweet peck on his knee. Now that his whole crotch area, thighs and abs were wet, blowing cold air all over him was even more fun, your lips directing your breath on different parts, making him try to escape your evil attentions.
“Giggles, you’re so bad.” He mewled, a tiny, desperate laugh underlining his sentence.
Your hands reached the base of his feet, your nails dragging against the natural crease at the center of his foot.
“It tickles.” He said, his legs jumping up as he tried to escape that sensorial torture.
“No touching you there?” You asked, eyebrows curving upwards in wonder. “Okay.”
He planted his feet firmly on the base of his office chair. “Please.” He said.
“It’s okay, Hobi.” You replied sweetly. His dancer feet were too sensitive for that and you’d rather avoid him moving too much and possibly falling from the chair. “How are you feeling?” You asked, standing up. You were at a crossroad. From his answer depended the rest of the evening.
“I’m doing great. This feels incredible, Giggles.” He smiled, complimenting you.
“Are you down for a level up?” You asked.
He nodded. “I’m curious.”
“Choose a number from one to three.” You asked him, your voice bubbly.
“What is it?” He asked. He was afraid of the consequences. Was it going to be the number of times he was allowed to cum? Or maybe something else?
“Just a game, Hobi. Choose a number.” You repeated.
A bit hesitant he said: “Two.” He said. Like us, he thought. He kept the idea to himself, thinking it cheesy. Plus two was halfway. Nothing bad can happen if you stay halfway, right?
You raised your eyebrows and considered cheating. He would never know. You had really prepared three toys and numbered them, however, out of the three objects you had prepared, number two was the one that scared you the most, convincing yourself to pack it just in case he flipped and took the lead. Hoseok could be extremely powerful with that tool in hand and it was probably your favourite accessory for him to use on you.
Unfortunately — or maybe very fortunately — it was you who had to control it tonight.
With quite some courage, you pushed your hand into the bag, finding the handle and gripping it tight as you extracted the black leather device from the bag. The tails of the flogger met your skin gently, caressing it with their delicate, velvety touch. Each tail was made of suede, giving a special feel to the touch. He had never openly admitted how expensive it was, but you knew it was a lot.
As your dominant hand held the handle, the other toyed with the tails, gripping them and wrapping them around your fist; looking at Hoseok, you started thinking where to start.
Easy.
His inner arms were there, pale, slender and so sensitive. “Can you feel me?” You asked, bending down, your breath tickling the free skin of his wrists.
“Yes.” He commented. “Behind my back. You’re so close but I can’t reach you.” He whined, struggling a little against the rope.
“Are your hands okay? Is the knot too tight?” You checked.
He breathed out. “Yes, I’m okay. Thank you.” He stilled on the chair since he realised he couldn’t touch you.
“My pleasure, Hoseok.” You replied, spurring him on a little. “Would you like me to tell you what’s the number you chose?”
He thought about it, but he realised that most of the arousal he was experiencing was because of the complete unexpectedness of each sensation. “Surprise me.”
You smiled, running the butt of the handle against his upper arm, teasing the top of his armpit. He shivered adorably, the sensation making his arm tingle with goosebumps.
“How does it feel?” You asked, curious.
“Wicked. But also interesting.” He replied, shivering again as you repeated the gesture on the other side. “Very sensitive.”
“Can you guess what it is?” You asked, gripping the flogger from where the tails met the handle, leaving the underside of the shaft free to press against his lips. He sniffed it. “Leather.” He sniffed some more. “Your hand lotion. Is it the handle of something?” He asked, dragging his cheek against it.
In the meanwhile you made sure that the tails were wrapped tight around your fist so that they wouldn’t give you away. “Maybe.” You replied, removing the object from his face and unwrapping the suede straps from your other palm, keeping the toy away from him. You trapped all the tails back, leaving only one out. That’s how to start.
Hoseok, momentarily blinded, kept thinking of what the object could possibly be. “Is the number connected to what you’re using now?”
“Yes. Each number meant a toy. I’m using number two right now.” You said, letting that single string drag from the small hollow between his collarbones down to his belly button. Your small hand struggled around the instrument, however your nerves helped you keep a tight grip.
“You have more than one?” He asked, moaning as the tail tickled the base of his cock. “What the hell is it?” He said, thrusting his hips upward. “Fuck, please.” He murmured, as you teased his balls. You grinned. “It’s the riding crop, uh? You love that one.” He murmured, just as you moved your hand far from his body, letting the tails fall free before snapping your wrist, making the strings swish.
Hoseok listened to the noise attentively, however the background music kept him from properly identifying the sound. “Is it something we have used before?”
You hit your palm again, softly, knowing that the hip hop track was going to make the toy unrecognisable. As you stood in front of his face, you leaned down and snapped it once more, making sure that he would feel the air move as the tails slapped your hand. Doing it this delicately made it feel almost pleasurable against your skin.
“Yes, we’ve used it before.”
You stood up again, letting the tails hang low. Noticing his length dripping in wetness, you snapped the toy once more against your palm, still far from his skin, simply producing an air current.
“Dammit, please, I just wanna cum.” He cried out.
“Guess my toy and I’ll reward you.” You teased.
He whimpered. “Come on, we’ve tried at least twenty together.” He lamented. “And you’ve given me so little.”
“Then let me give you more.” You giggled, This time you took a deep breath. Courage. You wanted him to hear it for real, not the caressing sweeps, but the harsh, punishing ones he usually delivered. Maybe those would sound more familiar. Exhaling, you hit your clothed thigh. You moaned: it could feel so sweet in your own hand, when you could control it and with the barrier of your jeans.
“It’s leather, I’m sure.” He commented.
You snapped once more, your cunt clenching, wetness making you feel uncomfortable between your thighs as you noticed him flinch at the sound. “Are you sure it’s leather, Hoseok?”
When he heard the third smack, he went insane. It felt unreal to be there, to wait for a hit that wouldn’t come, or even worse to be deep in thought, so close to the answer, but to be brought back to reality with the swishing and clicking sound of whatever it was you were holding. “If you say it like that, I’m not sure.”
Grinning, you let the tails hover over his skin, tickling the air around them, charging his skin with goosebumps. He felt electric. “Is this helping you?” You asked, letting the suede skim his skin.
“Oh. So you’re using my weapons against me...” He wondered just as your free hand cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. He was being too cocky anyway. His following moan decisively toned down his arrogance.
“Sorry.” He whined. “Please.” He moaned while your hand pushed the flogger away, your torso bending forward as you stretched to lick the tip of his cock, collecting the hot droplet of cum he had just spilled. “____, I’m begging, please.”
“Please what?” You murmured against his abdomen.
As he began talking you sucked the smooth head of his dick into your mouth, listening to him stammering and moaning in an attempt to speak. With a sweet stutter he cried out. “Wanna cum. Please.”
You released his sex. “You know the rules. Guess the toy and I’ll let you cum. Don’t make me say it again.” You stood straight and moved the flogger back between his legs, the tails teasing his inner thighs. “How come you haven’t recognised it yet?” You teased.
“It’s a tickler.” He moaned. “The one with the feathers.” He huffed out, just as you caught once more the tails in your palm, wrapping them around your hand and moving your grip, freeing the butt of the handle.
“No, love. I’m sorry.” You said, feigning discontent, but secretly grinning.
He cried out. “Oh, come on, what is it!” He growled, his voice sliding into a whimper as you sucked one of his balls into your mouth.
“Fuck it, Giggles. Please.”
He had said ‘please’ at least four times tonight, that you remembered. Maybe even more. You sucked harder.
“Love your mouth, baby,” he rambled, his sanity long forgotten in the unpredictable events of the evening. He felt his guts tightening, his abs clenching. “So good. Shit.”
As you spotted the telltale pulsing in your mouth, you let go of him.
“No, please. Please.” He begged. It was your favourite word on your lips. When he begged. When he begged to lick you, to let him make you squirt, to slap your delicate breasts, to fuck your mouth, to change position ‘just one more time’, to let him ram into you for the third, fourth ride even if you were tired and overstimulated, your brains only capable of telling him yes because you were too fucked out, too greedy, too in love with him to ever deny him.
“You made a dumb guess, Hobi. How can a tickler make that sound? You heard the smack, before, didn’t you.” You pressed the butt of the toy against his shaft, delicately, dragging it up and down in a very upsetting imitation of a handjob.
He keened as several drops of cum bubbled up from his slit and dribbled down his cock.
“You’re so turned on, uh?” You snickered, teasing him ruthlessly. “You’re barely coherent.”
He couldn’t wrap his head around how his sweet, sparkly, submissive Giggles, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his precious jewel could turn into such a sadistic, cruel creature.
He had probably ruined you.
He was almost glad. Proud of you.
“Giggles, love. Please, have mercy, baby. You can’t hurt me. You love me.” He murmured, trying to convince himself.
You let him breathe, moving the handle away from his sensitive sex.
“I love you. That’s why I need you to recognise the toy.” You cooed. “You’ve heard how it sounds, and felt how it feels. You can do it, bubs.” You bent to his mouth, letting your lips linger over his.
“It swishes and smashes, but it’s a dry, light smash. Not a paddle. Not a tickler, and not a riding crop either. It’s either a cat-o-nine-tales or a flogger.” He murmured.
“Good boy.” You praised him. “What is it, then Hoseok?”
He felt insane. The moment he realised it was one of the two, he started imagining you holding one, getting even more turned on at the thought. “Use it on me.” He asked. “Please.” He could almost see you, your small figure, your tiny hands wrapped around the thick leather base, the cute flinch on your face as you whipped the tails against your thigh. “Use it on me.” He wished he could see you for real. He just needed you to do it once, to be comfortable to eventually do it again, someday — possibly within the next month — to see you actually use the flogger on him. He felt like going insane.
You frowned. You weren’t skilled enough for using it like that.
Whipping yourself over your clothes was one thing, but hitting him? Naked? Tied up? No. You told him.
“I can’t, Hoseok.”
“Please.” He cried out. “I trust you.” He said, quietly reassuring you. “Place me so that the front of my thigh is free, and direct the blow across my thigh, towards the outer side.”
You breathed a couple times. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He cried out in relief.
Following his directions, you placed him correctly on the chair, his thigh hanging midair. With your back to him, you murmured quietly “Ready?”
He simply breathed out a ‘yes’.
His cry was immediate. “Oh god, Giggles. Fuck.” You had been heavy handed, still he hadn’t perceived the bite of the small silver balls that his cat-o-nine-tales sported. “Flogger.” He moaned. “Wanna cum, please.”
You immediately dropped the flogger on top of his table. “That’s right, bubs. You’ve been a very good boy.”
He pushed his hips upward. “Your mouth, please.” He begged. “Inside.” He sobbed.
You undressed quickly, your shirt coming off in a second and your jeans following right after. With only your panties on, you kneeled on the floor, not quite making yourself noticed.
“Where are you?” He cried out. “Giggles?”
“Here.” You called. “Between your legs.” You kissed his knee. “You look beautiful, Hoseok. So damn beautiful.” Your mouth climbed up towards his lap, quick and practical, your tongue drawing a line of saliva up his thigh. “I’ll give you thirty seconds. If you don’t cum at that, I’ll stand up, take off your blindfold and touch myself while your hands are tied. Got it?”
He whimpered.
“Got it?” You asked again.
“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, as composedly as possible.
“Good.” You said, before swallowing him.
He groaned, pushing his hips up towards your face. His chair rolled back a bit, but thankfully you grabbed the armrests and managed to secure it.
With wicked intentions you pulled him out, rolling the chair away so that the back sticked to the edge of his desk, keeping it from moving. “Count to thirty for me, Hoseok.”
You didn’t give him time to reply, sinking back onto him.
“One,” he whimpered as you used your hands to stroke the parts you couldn’t take into your mouth.
“Oh, two.” He groaned, pushing some more. You pinched his thigh, reprimanding him for his thrust.
He jumped at that before he cried out a three, panting heavily. “I’m gonna cum.”
Again you pinched.
“Three.” He said with a shrill.
By the count of nine, his hips got impatient, thrusting into you some more, but — lucky him — you felt merciful and disregarded his disobedience as you started to bob your head, before hearing him breathe louder and faster. “That’s it. Giggles, fuck. Love it. So good. Love you.” He managed to babble before he came apart.
You simply stayed there, eyes rimmed with tears, holding your breath as his cum kept spilling inside you. It took him five or six shots before he stilled, empty and spent. Oxygen felt like a blessing once you pulled him out, his tip resting on your tongue. Both your and his breathing were heavy and rushed as you removed your head from his lap and tested it against his thigh.
“Wanna see you, Giggles.” He murmured, his voice hoarse after all the moaning and growling and panting. “Take off the blindfold, baby.” He asked, ready to take control. You were the one who needed attention right now.
“Just a minute.” You murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his leg and closing your eyes.
“Now, Giggles.” He ordered with some urgency.
With a deep sigh, you stood on your knees, stretching towards his face to take off the silk band from his eyes. It took a couple attempts because you couldn't reach perfectly, however you finally managed to uncover him, his eyes immediately focusing on you.
“Hello, little bird.” He said, his tone already sporting that sardonic, telltale undertone. He was going for revenge.
A fearful wave rolled down your spine.
“Hi, Hoseok.” You replied, a bit hazed.
“Can you untie me, little bird? Please?” He asked, but his plea didn't hold the previous submission. This was simply a polite request. “I know you’re tired, pretty thing. Just untie me, I’ll take care of you, I promise, angel.” He said, spotting the way you looked at him like a scared wild animal. “I can’t even cuddle you right now.” He wiggled his wrists. “It hurts like hell to see you this vulnerable and not being allowed to cuddle you, little bird.” His voice expressed affection now, his mood completely changed after he had seen you: the discomfort of your treatment was still fresh but he couldn’t bring himself to torture you back after seeing you curled up between his legs.
You kissed his thigh a little helplessly before whining as you stood up.
“That’s my good girl.” He praised you with a quiet voice.
Undoing the knot was extremely easy. You liked using knots that were simple to undo once you released the safety hook — a reasonable amount of rope strategically tucked into the knot that once tugged simply makes the rope fall to the ground. Hoseok was usually reasonable enough not to untie himself, which meant you could still untie him easily even when your body was tired and your mind felt fuzzy.
When the rope fell to the ground, Hoseok stood still, holding position. Once he jammed a knot because he moved too early and you sulked at him for a week because he made you cut the rope into three unusable lengths. “May I?” He asked.
“Yes.” You confirmed.
He immediately turned the chair so that he was facing you. His arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight as you stood between his legs.
“You’ve been so good, Giggles. You’ve been perfect, little bird.” He pulled you into him, making you sit on his lap. “How are you feeling, dove?”
“A bit unsettled.” You admitted. “Strange.”
“What got into you?” He asked, smiling as he stroked your cheek. “You were devilish, pretty thing.”
“I don’t know. I think I was inspired.” You admitted, sinking into his neck, nuzzling into the curve below his ear.
“How did you feel with the flogger?” He asked, caressing your spine gently. He felt soft for you. To hell with revenge, he’d much rather make love to you. Show you all his appreciation for the scene you had staged, your spirit of initiative and the courage you had displayed in taking the lead with the flogger.
“I liked it. It felt new and strange.” You admitted, your arms connecting behind his neck, your hand combing the hair at his nape. “It felt different from when you do it.”
He chuckled. “Yes.”
“It’s not just the role reversal. I felt more confident because I called the shots. I manoeuvred it, so it didn’t feel like I was waiting for it to hurt. The excitement was different.” You kissed his jaw.
Hoseok turned, using his bangs to tickle your cheek. You giggled meekly. “It’s all about having the power to do the unexpected. See how far the other person allows you to go.” He kissed your neck. “I like using it on you because you’re always so soft afterwards. You’re super needy and cuddly and I like assisting you like that.” His hand moved to your side, caressing you reassuringly before his hand ventured under the waistband of your panties, rubbing your ass. “And seeing how far you let me go with the scene makes me see how much you trust me and love me. It’s hot but also cute and affectionate.” He pulled his hand out, dragging it up, skimming your side and cupping your breast, his skilled fingers toying with your nipple. “Do you want me to take care of you?” He asked, his index finger hooking under your chin and pushing your face up, to look at him.
You looked up at him from under your lashes, pouting and giving him the best impression of puppy eyes.
He smiled at you. “What?” He said, with a small chuckle, booping your nose.
“I want your mouth.” You said, biting your lip.
“Where.” He asked, rubbing your tummy, his fingertips toying with the waistband of your panties.
You looked down at your crotch, licking your lip and rolling your eyes coquettishly. “Down there, sir?”
He laughed and bent to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Want me to eat you out, little bird?” He snarled and bit your round, fluffy cheek. “Eat you alive?” He asked, holding you tight as he repeatedly sunk his teeth on the fat covering your cheekbone. “Such a naughty girl!” He said, tickling your sides.
Your laugh bubbled up your throat, exploding in a fit of giggles.
“That’s it. The most beautiful sound on the face of earth.” He calmed down once he noticed your short breath. “I love you, ____.” He reminded you.
You smiled so wide your eyes closed. “I love you too.” You stretched your neck to reach his mouth. His lips parted for you, the tip of his tongue drawing the seam of your lips as you disclosed them for him. The kiss was demanding, as usual. The hard, teasing strokes he delivered with the tip of his tongue gave way to a tango of thrusts and twirls, a mind blowing game of flight and chase, small clashing of teeth and sucking bruises onto each other’s lips. You didn’t even know how much time had passed before he gripped your waist, pushing you up. “Stand, little bird.” He murmured softly.
Carefully, you rose to your feet, making sure that your knees didn’t give out below you. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties. He immediately spotted the wet patch on your grey cotton. “Cute penguin print.” He commented. “Very cute.” He said, his finger moving to toy with the drenched fabric, exposing you. He slid down the chair, kneeling. You took half a step back, only to meet the hard edge of his desk. He had cornered you. You only managed to press your palms into the desk, making sure not to knock anything over or accidentally ruin any equipment.
“Right leg on my shoulder, little dove.” He ordered, his eyes zeroing in on you with a predatory gleam.
You obeyed. Not that you had much choice.
“You’re so wet, Giggles. You enjoyed torturing me this much?” He asked, licking the gusset of your panties. “So nasty.”
“You sounded so good.” You commented, one hand combing his hair back and subtly pushing his mouth against you. “And you tasted even better.”
“These are too cute to rip.” He said, looking at your panties. “I need them off, dove.”
He helped your leg down, immediately dragging the garment down your legs. “Fuck, you’re so drenched.” He growled, noticing the tendrils of arousal sticking your labia together as he placed your leg back on his shoulder. His right arm, free to move, immediately bent so that his hand could spread your wetness all along your slit, before his index and middle finger sank into you, immediately meeting your sweet spot.
“Oh God! Hoseok, please!” One of your hands parted from the table, grabbing his hair.
“Does it feel good?” He asked, crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion. You knew what he wanted to do.
“I’m gonna make a mess, Hobi.” You warned him before a wanton mewl left your lips, betraying you.
“So, do you like it?” He asked again, rubbing his fingers and stretching you out.
“Yes, sir.” You moaned, trying to meet his mouth with your hips. Oh, how the tables have turned.
“You’re about to like it even more, little bird. Hold on tight.” He warned before latching his mouth onto your clit and beginning to torture it with the hard flicks of his tongue. His eyes met yours and you knew he was really going for it. He had that look that meant challenge. You abandoned yourself to your fate.
“Hoseok. Dammit.” You hoped your leg would hold you up because both your hands rushed to his head, pressing it against your cunt. The arm holding your leg moved upwards, sustaining your lower back.
The shift was immediate, the inner sense of burning and the distinct sensations of your inner walls clenching out of your control warning you of what was about to happen. “Hoseok.” You called simply as that overwhelming tide took you under. Your eyes clenched tight, your lower leg quivering dangerously as your orgasm invested him. You knew you had likely squirted over him, especially for the wetness running down your leg. You just hoped there wasn’t a small pool of liquid on his floor.
“That’s it, Giggles. Fucking phenomenal.” He praised you as you gently pulled his mouth away from your clit. He kissed your mound chastely before helping your leg down.
“Did I mess up?” You asked, immediately checking for damage.
“Nothing that a few tissues can’t fix.” He said, standing in front of you, stretching behind you to grab a roll of paper, tearing some and kneeling again, drying up the small puddle. Next he dried your inner thigh. “Are you freaking out?” He asked, knowing that squirting always unsettled you a little.
“The normal amount.” You replied, combing his hair as he looked up at you, collecting all the paper towels and throwing them in the bin.
As he stood again, you felt his hard on against your tummy. “Can you do it standing or do you wanna sit?” He asked, hugging you.
“Your choice. I can handle it.” You replied, still a bit hazy with your previous orgasm.
“Turn.” He murmured, spinning you around with his hands on your waist, your hand moving to press his palm against the small of your back, bending you forward a little. “Like this?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” You replied.
He bent to your ear. “No need to call me ‘sir’, dove. I’m making love to you.” He said, gently dragging the head of his cock against your folds before slipping in. Once he was halfway in, your mouth open in a silent cry, he pulled out, only to move back in all the way with one smooth stroke.
“Hobi, sweet lord.” You purred, leaning on your elbows, as he started pounding into you. He simply grabbed you under your armpits, pressing his palms against your breasts and pushing you back up, making the angle so right and so intense you thought you would explode again there and then.
However, after a few minutes he simply growled and exited you, pushing you up and turning you around, again. Facing him, you could now see the dark lines forming on his thigh from the flogger, and right on top of that the slim indentation of his abdomen, adorned by his glistening, wet, hard cock.
He let you drink him in with your hungry eyes before tipping your chin up, to make your gazes connect. With his eyes on yours, scorching and demanding, he slipped back inside you, enjoying how your eyelids fluttered at the sense of fullness you were experimenting. The hammering restarted immediately, your hand gripping his shoulders, your nails sinking in. In reply, his strong, veiny palm curled around your outer thigh, pushing your leg up and around his waist.
“Touch yourself. I need you to cum.” He said, making small effort into ordering you, keeping his focus on his ramming.
And you made an even smaller effort into obeying, the hard, filling sensation of him inside you was so satisfying that a few circles on your clit was all it took for your head to crash into his shoulder, suppressing a loud moan by biting into his neck. Still, the bite, the vibrations of your whimpers against his throat, your nails sinking into him and your kegels squeezing him brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm. And he went on, even as you called his name like a litany, a sob interrupting you every now and then as you panted.
He took himself half a minute of stillness. “Can you do another?” He asked, both his hands gripping your ass as he picked you up. “Missionary on the sofa. Just one, I promise.” He said, already walking you to his black leather couch.
You nodded, wordless and brainless, simply hissing when the cold material met your back. “Sorry. I know, cold.” He said, caressing your face. “Ready?” He asked.
Again you nodded, looking at him with a pout. He bent down to kiss your lips. “I love you.” He said.
He said it so often. It was his favourite thing to say, mostly because you would offer him your sweetest smile and your eyes would sparkle with surprise and arousal, just like the first time he had confessed to you. Just like the first time he had bound your wrists on top of your head, kissing all the way down your body, showing you how much adoration his body and his mind could muster.
As he sank into you, you cried out his name tenderly.
“I’ve got you, little dove.” He said, cradling your head in the crook of his arm. “My pretty little bird.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, drawing the shape of your lips. “I’ll be home, in our bed tonight.” He slipped his thumb into your mouth, wetting it. “I’ll make you so happy, Giggles.” He removed it, bringing it to your clit, delicately rubbing circles into your skin. “It’s all I wanna do.” He pressed his lips restlessly to your mouth and chest, your eyes following his movements in slow motion. You were so far gone you even doubted the sensation between your legs when you felt a new tightness ready to snap.
“Close.” You mouthed somewhere on his chest or neck or shoulder. It felt like slow dancing in a dark room. Except he was inside you and the rocking motion relaxed you so completely that you simply let go, not even listening to him saying to hold on, to make it last a second more, to focus on him.
You simply smiled as pleasure took over, Hoseok himself falling on top of you as his hips lost their pattern and let go of any semblance of control and tempo. His mouth pressed into your nipple as he moaned in release.
You both felt like dead bodies afterwards, laying there empty, spent, completely lost. You could have died without a bother. You could have kept existing without a bother, your bodies resting and waking in an endless cycle, the same way day and night follow each other. You were one thing, one entity, not even one body — any relation to material substance was momentarily suspended.
“Giggles.” He checked in on you. “Baby, we should go home, uh? I don’t have stuff to spoil you here, dove.” He said with a worried note.
Your eyelids fluttered open.
“There she is. Hello, sunshine.” He said, trying to fix your hair. “Let me fix the room before we go, yes?”
You smiled. “Let me help.” You said, only half convinced.
He tutted. “No, sweetie. You lay there and I fix this.” He slipped out of you, standing up slowly, a little clumsily. He immediately went to his desk grabbing his cup of water and sinking a corner of his t-shirt, dabbing at his face and chest, then down at his crotch. Next, he walked towards you, using another wet corner to clean you up. “There.” He said, kissing your knee once he was done. Next he dressed you, manoeuvring your body to slip your clothes on. With a bottle of generic cleanser randomly laying on his drawer, he made sure that no stain remained on the floor where he had eaten you out. Standing in his boxers, he rolled the rope back in a tight coil, placing it back into the bag, together with the flogger, making a mental note to clean it once he arrived home. He didn’t even check what you had packed. He was impatient to shower and cuddle with you at home. Your shared home.
Slipping on his sweater, he looked around, checking for potential hints of what had happened. He shrugged once he saw none. He shut down his computer, checking for the other devices to be off too. Finally, he spritzed some of his cologne on himself and the room. “Okay. We’re good, Giggles. Let’s go.”
You groaned before sitting up and waiting for him to offer you his hand to help you up. “That playlist was pretty bomb.” You said. “We should keep it for our wild nights.”
“I’m using it for my next collab.” He replied, closing down the studio and slipping his shoes on. You did the same at his side. “Maybe you will enjoy my song.” He said, winking at you.
“Oh, hi guys! What are you doing here?” Jimin chirped behind you.
Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Hi. You’re here late.”
“Just passing by.” Jimin said. “Forgot my laptop.” He shook his head. “Hello, Giggles!” He said to you.
It felt ridiculous how all the boys used the nicknames for you and the other girlfriends. Still, it didn’t bother you, since it reminded you of your bond with Hoseok, but also of that familiarity within the group. “Hi Jimin!” You chirped, a little nervous at the possibility of him knowing what had happened in Hoseok’s studio.
“Well, goodnight!” Jimin said sweetly. “I assume you won’t be at the dorms tonight.”
Hoseok tutted. “I’ll be staying with Giggles. She moved in.” He said with a happy tone.
“I’m happy for you. However I hope you won’t be walking out with that tickler hanging out of the bag.” He winked with a teasing remark. “Enjoy it.” He trotted off.
Standing beside Hoseok, you blushed all the way to the tip of your ears.
Hoseok snickered. “Brat.”
Well, he was Princess’ problem now, anyway.
#bts smut#bangtan smut#bts fic#bts scenario#jung hoseok#jhope#hoseok smut#hoseok one shot#hoseok scenario#hoseok x reader#hoseok fan fiction
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Dream SMP and the Major Arcana
Hello! I've recently been learning about tarot cards and readings and I realized that there's a lot of parallels between the characters on the Dream SMP and the major arcana cards. I'm not an expert on the cards, so feel free to let me know if there's a character you think would fit that card better or there's a better explanation somewhere.
For the card definitions, I used this website: https://labyrinthos.co/blogs/tarot-card-meanings-list
I also tried to pick characters for cards that embodied both the upright and reverse meanings as a whole. These descriptions are also all about the characters and not the creators themselves.
The World - Dream and the SMP, could also include the community house
Since The World card signifies community, unification, and traveling, it would make sense that Dream would represent The World. His whole motivation as a character is that he wants the SMP to be unified into one big happy family. And the world is named after him, after all.
Judgement - Jack
The Judgement card represents reflection, reckoning, but when in reverse, also represents self loathing and doubt. The way Jack blames Tommy for his misfortunes but has a change in heart when he finds out Tommy died is the kind of self reflection present in Judgement. And when Tommy comes back and Jack realizes how he meant to Tommy (even if it's not a true reading of the situation), he switches back to trying to hurt Tommy as much as he hurt him. His judgement of Tommy seals both Tommy's and Jack's fate.
The Sun - Foolish, Sapnap
The Sun represents celebration, joy, success. I really don't have a solid connection to the characters here, but it feels like both Foolish and Sapnap could fit this card.
The Moon - Antfrost, Connor
The Moon represents unconsciousness, illusions, and intuition. The Moon reversed is all about confusion, fear, and misinterpretation. When Antfrost was controlled by the Egg, he did his fair share of spreading the fear and showing that the Egg was nothing to be messed with. When he wasn't corrupted, he had a great sense of knowing how the Eggpire was in the wrong even if they didn't have control over their actions. The same could be said with Connor. Connor is one of the only characters of the SMP that seems to know more than what he lets on, getting into shenanigans that others would deem noncanonical.
The Star - Ponk
The Star represents a sense of hope and rejuvenation, and in reverse represents faithlessness and insecurity. The faith that Ponk holds/held for members of the Eggpire before he was corrupted, trying to keep an eye on them, faking being corrupted, as well as the fact that knowing that all of Sam's misdeeds will catch up to him but he'd have a place for Sam to stay regardless embodies the Star's hope.
The Tower - Eret, Eret's Tower, L'Manberg to an extent
The Tower represents sudden change, disaster, and broken pride, but it doesn't necessarily have to be bad. The sudden change from Eret switching sides in the fight for L'Manberg independence was a significant change both for them and for L'Manberg. Still, L'Manberg bounced back, much like Eret did later on when they truly regretted their betrayal. The reverse Tower represents avoided or delayed disaster. The fact that L'Manberg was rebuilt twice after being destroyed until it was destroyed for good just delayed what seemed like the inevitable.
The Devil - Schlatt
Seems self-explanatory, but I can explain just in case. The Devil represents addiction and materialism while the reverse represents freedom and restoring control. Schlatt saw himself rising to power in L'Manberg as freeing the city of the tyranny of the previous rulers. Not to mention, he was heavily involved in many addictions during his life.
Temperance - Ranboo
Patience, the middle ground, and finding meaning is represented by Temperance. Ranboo is one of the most neutral characters on the SMP, and even when he does get wrapped into fighting for a side, he tries to remain as under the radar as possible, not wanting to give any more reason for others to attack. This is apparent with how he's treating Tubbo's outpost outside Las Nevadas versus how Tubbo is treating the outpost as well as dealing with living double lives in the Syndicate and at Snowchester.
Death - Wilbur/Revivebur
Death is the end of a cycle, a metamorphosis into something new, but Death in reverse can also mean stagnation and a fear of change. The way Wilbur's character changes throughout the SMP's history, taking many forms, greatly mimics the political changes as well as meta changes to the SMP. But at the same time, Revivebur has a similar mentality to S1 Wilbur while the rest of the server has moved on without him.
The Hanged Man - Tommy
The Hanged Man is a tragic card, representing sacrifice and martyrdom but in reverse also represents needless sacrifice. The way that Tommy is continually pushed to sacrifice more and more of the things and people he loves may be seen as needless. He could also be interpreted as a martyr when he died in prison as his death marks a shift in the SMP, especially shown in how people reacted when the news broke out.
Justice - Sam
As the warden of the server, Sam represents the law. But the Justice card is more than that. It's cause and effect, truth, clarity. Sam sees things in very black and white: either you're a good person who does good things or you're a bad person who does bad things. The way he's confused when Ponk mentions that all the bad things he's done will catch up to him shows that Sam doesn't think of himself as a bad person and thus couldn't have done anything bad. Justice in reverse also signifies unfairness and unaccountability like the fact that Sam allowed Quackity to visit Dream despite knowing what was going on.
Wheel of Fortune - Karl
The Wheel of Fortune is about cycles of good and bad fortune as well as inevitable fate. The fact that Karl has no choice when he time travels and still must pay the price for it every time fits very well.
The Hermit - Fundy
While most think of The Hermit card as isolation and loneliness, the Hermit also represents inner guidance and seeking the truth. As Fundy is guided by his dreams, he tries to glean the meaning from what they show him. He even isolates himself in the hope that the dreams wouldn't happen anymore (which can be interpreted as he hoped he found the truth about them). Even before he was having dreams, he would isolate himself from the rest of the SMP for periods of time like after the destruction of L'Manberg for the final time.
Strength - Technoblade
While physically strong and confident in terms of his artillery, Techno is insecure in his loyalties with other members of the SMP, as in, he can't fight with words. The two most common ways of fighting, with words and charisma and with brute force, both show up in Techno but as extremely unbalanced. The dichotomy between Strength's physical power and the insecurity in its reverse matches well with Techno's strengths and weaknesses.
The Chariot - Niki
The Chariot represents direction and control, movement, but in reverse can also signify aggressiveness or lack of control. Niki is a very motivated character. She knows what she wants and she will get it. She also knows how other people may feel about what's going on, and she can recruit them to her side. When she knows what she wants, she will get it, but sometimes may lose control of the situation.
The Lovers - Bad and Skeppy
The Lovers card doesn't necessarily have to mean romantic ties between two or more people, the card can also mean partnerships and duality, and in reverse, can mean one-sidedness. The fact that it was implied that the reason Bad is only with the Egg is because of Skeppy and that Dream was planning on locking Skeppy up in his vault to control Bad shows that these two are connected on a much deeper level than most of the other pairs on the SMP. Not to mention, when both Bad and Skeppy were corrupted, it was pretty evident that only Bad cared about their relationship in a one-sided way.
The Hierophant - Tubbo
The Hierophant represents tradition and conformity, morality and ethics while in reverse represents subversiveness and rebellion. Tubbo fights between the good for those he loves and the good for all. This is especially prevalent when he had to choose between Tommy or between L'Manberg. Tubbo also fights between tradition, like when he was president, and disregarding tradition when that doesn't work, like with Snowchester.
The Emperor - Philza
The Emperor embodies authority, fatherhood, structure while also meaning ridigity and coldness in reverse. It's no secret that Philza is seen as a father figure in the SMP. Even to characters that he hasn't fathered, his word and stance on things are taken into great consideration. People trust his authority. Not to mention, he is associated with cold, snowy climates.
The Empress - Captain Puffy
The Empress signifies motherhood, nature, healing. Puffy is another figure on the SMP that is seen as parental. Like Phil, despite not being an official parent to many characters, her word and authority is trusted. She has opened a therapy office to help others heal. She is powerful enough where she is a genuine threat to the Eggpire while also remaining approachable enough for Tommy to seek her out for help.
The High Priestess - George
The High Priestess is very spiritual, very in tune with intuition and the unconscious/inner voice. The fact that George gets messages in his dreams which have included conversations with an inner voice/consciousness is about as blatantly High Priestess as one can get. He is also one, if not the only, character on the SMP that is friends with Dream XD, the god of the server.
The Magician - Quackity
The Magician is a master at getting what they want, seemingly making something out of nothing. The card represents willpower, desire but also trickery and illusionment when in reverse. Quackity, like Niki, knows what he wants, but unlike Niki, Quackity can get the outcome he wants by any means necessary, never losing control of the situation. People will listen to him, it's just taken him multiple different attempts to drive that point across.
The Fool - Charlie, Ghostbur
The Fool represents innocence and new beginnings but when in reverse, can also signify being taken advantage of and inconsideration. Both Charlie and Ghostbur have an air of innocence about them, that they could do no wrong, but for different reasons. Charlie simply doesn't know any better as he has no basis for what is normal, so he can't recognize when he's being taken advantage of. Charlie is also a slime that has been given a second shot at life as a human. Ghostbur simply can't remember the wrong he's done and thus can't atone for it, hurting those he loves further. Ghostbur also is Wilbur's literal rebirth into someone new.
Like I said, feel free to make corrections or additions. I'm sure there are more parallels elsewhere that I missed.
:D
#dsmp#tarot cards#major arcana#mcyt#tommyinnit#ranboo#wilbur soot#tubbo underscore#technoblade#jack manifold#quackity#eret#fundy#slimecicle#nikichu#captain puffy#georgenotfound#philza#badboyhalo#skeppy#awesamdude#drops by ponk#antfrost#jschlatt
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10 italian songs that are terribly horny
Kind of a sequel of this post I wrote about the three Italian songs every Italian knows without fail, here comes another in the same vein and, as you might guess from the title of the post, they all are horny.
Because there’s absolutely no need to title your fic about Nicky losing his virginity after a Hozier song, when the Italian music scene of the 1970s has already blessed us with Cristiano Malgioglio!
Beware that this list features: threesomes, implied choking, implied masturbation, lengthy descriptions of dicks, and a whole lot of “dying”.
So, if you’re new to the Italian music scene, I bet you now have two questions: who is Malgioglio, and why is that “dying” in between quotes?
Cristiano Malgioglio is an Italian songwriter who has been working in the music industry since the early Seventies. Now known mostly for his flamboyant style and white strand of hair in his otherwise completely black head, he was a close friend of Fabrizio de Andrè, who was actually the one who introduced him to the music world.
He has written a lot of songs that are LGBT+ themed and has always been very open about his sexuality, to the point that he has never even felt the need of coming-out. Out of the ten songs here presented, he has written three of them, and one of them is about one of his boyfriends.
As the censorship didn’t allow for song lyrics to be too explicit, songwriters and singers had found a way around it: rather than saying “coming” or “orgasming”, they would go with “dying”, which was a lot more elegant and could be inserted in literally every song without the censors being able to complain. And, trust me, there’s a lot of dying.
Here is the list, from the least horny to the most horny.
Chi Non Lavora (1970), by Adriano Celentano
Link to lyrics and translation here.
Commonly called Autunno Caldo (Hot Autumn), the workers strike that begun in 1969 and dragged itself into the August 1970 greatly influenced this piece (but for all the wrong reasons). Workers were demanding safer working conditions, which had been completely ignored up until that point. As the days went on and the more people joined the protests, the police got more and more violent, to the point that they had begun shooting people on sight. This caused a huge uproar from the protestors, and when the voice that people had been shot and harmed by the law enforcement, even more workers and even students joined the fight. Through a year of strikes, they forced the Italian government to create a new set of laws that would protect both workers and students.
The song mocks this movement: the singer complains about the fact that, since he is on a strike two days out of three, he cannot give his wife enough money and therefore she’s going on a strike too and won’t have sex with him. Basically this song is nothing but the woes of a privileged, extremely wealthy man who thinks that people protesting for the rights of a safe work environment is inopportune and stupid.
The only reason why I included this song is because “Chi non lavora non fa l’amore” (Those who don’t work don’t make love) is still very much used to this day. If you want a piece of media that actually explores the protests and the work environment of the time, I suggest watching La Classe Operaia va in Paradiso (The Working Class goes to Heaven), a movie from 1971.
10 Ragazze per Me (1969), by Lucio Battisti
Link to lyrics and translation here.
Lucio Battisti is a national treasure and if I’ll ever do more of these, he’s surely going to end up in more of them. Whereas De Andrè would write more traditional music and focus on the lyrics, Battisti’s music was a lot more danceable and his lyrics a lot lighter, usually focusing on loneliness and heartbreaks rather than social issues.
In this song, the protagonist is bragging about how he wants ten girls for himself, all for different reasons (one because she knows how to dance, the other because she’s a virgin, that other one because she has been with everybody but him). It is soon revealed, however, that the only reason why he’s doing it is because he’s still thinking about a very specific girl who broke his heart.
Remembering the note above, peep that “And red lips to die upon”.
Gelato al Cioccolato (1979), by Pupo
Link to lyrics and translation here.
First song written by Cristiano Malgioglio and also the one about his ex! And yes, it was sung by another man, but... oh, well. The lyrics are the same.
I feel like the only thing I need to say, about this song, is to quote it directly: “Chocolate ice cream, sweet and a little salty”. And that’s it, because the subtext is right there and it’s impossible to miss what it implies.
What I think should be added is the fact that the singer had absolutely no idea of what the song was about. Like none. It was only in 2007 that Malgioglio told him that he had been inspired to write it after spending a torrid summer in Tunisia, where he had gotten a boyfriend with whom he’d often get ice cream.
Carlo Martello Ritorna dalla Battaglia di Poitiers (1967), by Fabrizio de Andrè
Link to lyrics and translation here.
Translating this song absolutely murdered me: Paolo Villaggio, one of De Andrè’s best friends and an extremely important figure in Italian entertainment history, wrote it to play over Middle Ages sounding music, so the words chosen and the way sentences are structured are reminiscing of that time, and it was incredibly hard to find English words that matched.
This said, it’s possibly one of De Andrè’s most light-hearted songs (probably because he and Villaggio wrote it while their wives were giving birth to their sons), even if it does mention social issues.
King Charles Martel comes home from Poitiers but has lost the key to his wife’s chastity cage, so he doesn’t even go home before looking for another girl that can quench his thirst. He sees a beautiful maiden taking a bath and, seduced, convinces her to have sex with him. It is only when he has finished that she reveals that she’s actually a prostitute and now he has to pay her, but he runs away before doing so (but still after having complained about the rising prices).
The lyrics of this song were censored and fought against by the censorship so much that, even to this day, records with the uncensored version are extremely difficult to find.
Una Carezza in un Pugno (1968), by Adriano Celentano
Lyrics and translation here.
Yes, another Celentano song. I don’t like him either, it’s just that we cannot get rid of him for some reason.
Anyways, here we begin to get into hotter waters, as this song is about a man asking his girlfriend to think of him while she masturbates. Of course, since he cannot be left out of the question, he will think of her while he jerks off too.
Basically, unlike what a first read might make you think, the “fist” he makes while thinking of her is not because he wants to beat her up.
Il Triangolo (1978), by Renato Zero
Lyrics and translation here.
Renato Zero is another extremely flamboyant personality of the Italian music scene, and “Il Triangolo” is one of the songs of his that are best known.
As the title may suggest, this song is about a threesome. The protagonist goes on a date with their boyfriend and finds out that he has brought a second man, with the intention of convincing said protagonist to have a threesome. Although at first they need a little convincing, the protagonist then agrees to it and finds out they enjoy it a lot, to the point of coming to the conclusion that “Geometry is not a crime”!
Kobra (1980), by Donatella Rettore
Lyrics and translation here.
This song is about dicks, there’s no way around it and there’s nothing else to say. The singer sees a certain man and thinks about his dick, getting wet and fantasizing about the many things she could do with said dick. That’s it.
Pensiero Stupendo (1978), by Patty Pravo
Lyrics and translations here.
Second threesome song!
Unlike “Il Triangolo”, this song is a lot more subtle. It’s clear what the singer is talking about, but the lyrics are not as on the nose and leave more to the audience to feel it, rather than hearing it through words.
The song begins with the three people part of the threesome that are already doing it, and are still doing it by the time the song ends. It’s not about the act in and on itself, but more about the sensations it brings.
Ancora ancora ancora (1978), by Mina
Lyrics and translation here.
Second song written by Malgioglio!
Mina is probably one of the best known Italian singers, as her voice is said to be one of the best in recorded history and has an impressive rage of three octaves, so it really says something, the fact that this piece is so difficult that even her voice broke while holding a note (in an incredible way that only gives it character, but still).
The lyrics play with the fact that in Italian the word “ancora” can be translated and understood as “still”, “again”, and “more”. I couldn’t really give it justice in the translation, but it’s as if she was saying “Your hands still”, “Your hands again”, and “More of your hands” at the same time, and this kind of logic is repeated for every “ancora” she sings.
Even if the lyrics are suggestive, what was censored in this case was the video (the one linked with the song), as the close shots of the singer’s face, and especially of her mouth, were considered to be too sensual to be freely aired.
L’importante è Finire (1975), by Mina
Lyrics and translation here.
Third and last piece written by Malgioglio!
The story behind this song is a little nebulous, but I have read that apparently Malgioglio wrote it for Dori Ghezzi, De Andrè’s wife, but that that project never came to life and, in the meantime, he had managed to meet Mina, and had tried to get her to sing it. But... not sure if this story is directly related to the song in question or not.
Anyways, even for this piece it’s impossible to escape it’s meaning, to the point that, even if it didn’t contain any forbidden words, it was censored anyways for weeks, forbidding radios to air it and Mina to sing it on TV. However, people were so eager to listen to it that it still managed to climb the charts and was, eventually, allowed on air.
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1, 3, 4, and 5 for your Owl House s/i?? 🥺👉👈
Ofc! Thank you !!! :]
1. Does your insert have a name that’s different from yours? Does the name reflect their character in any way, or is it just because it sounds nice? How did you come up with it?
As any of my s/is, I've given her a name different from mine and it's Alina.
I did chose it because it sounds nice but when I searched the meaning it also fit her character pretty well! Its meaning is:
Independent and strong-willed, Alina is a free-spirited, ambitious woman. Even though she knows where she’s going, it’s not clear where she’s been. (source)
Lmao those baby names site for when u make an oc sksk
3. Who in their canon are they closest to? Who would they drop everything to come help, if anyone? Who’s the person they’re least close to? Who would they most likely not get along with, if anyone?
She's close to Amity and her father, Alador. Since well, they're family. Even so, her relationship with his brother is quite complicated because of past disagreements.
Alina is also close to the Clawthorne sisters, especially Lilith. They may have started with the wrong foot but now they can count on each other's help.
She does not get along with Odalia, her sister-in-law. Mostly because of how she treats her children. She sees herself in Amity and cannot stand to see someone else go through what she's been. This is one of the reasons her relationship with Alador is at the margin of breaking.
4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?
I've let little pieces of her backstory in each answer but!!!! I'm gonna add a bit more :]
Alina comes from a broken family that left no choice for her but to run away if she wanted to live a more fulfilling life according to her needs. A selfish decision as stated by her brother.
She learned to live by herself which means she suffers from extreme loneliness, but it is the price she has to pay. This affects the way she acts with others.
Regardless, she is extremely professional in her work.
Alina is a bounty hunter and a very reliable one, she becomes Lilith's last resource on finding the whereabouts of her sister and... well, that goes more into recent events.
5. Does your insert have any magical talents or otherwise special abilities? Are they passive, like the ability to befriend animals, or dangerous power that the villains want? Or if theyre evil - any powers the heroes want to stop?
In her younger years at Hexside, she studied to become part of the illusionists coven. A total waste of time and potential according to her parents, but the little things she learned before being forced to study something else do surely come in handy in her job.
When she ran away, she studied more of each coven by herself and now is pretty competent at the most useful ones.
You could say she almost went through Eda's very same path, but still, she in no match to her skills. Or at least, before of the events of Young Blood, Old Souls.
#ask game#Alina 🤝 Eda (wild outcasts)#I hope my spelling and grammar mistakes aren't so annoying. always happens when I write long texts#OH OH#Alina 🤝 Lilith ( parental issues )#/toh
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A Year in the Countryside
Chapter 1: Alone At Last
Full story on ao3.
Hermione Granger has had enough of Rita Skeeter and the rest of Wizarding London watching her every move. The Wizarding world's sweetheart packs up her things and relocates to a tiny town in the Cotswolds in order to escape prying eyes. She's ready to embrace a year living a quiet life of reading her favourite books, making friends with her neighbours, and most importantly, not running into anyone she knows.
She is only two days into her new, quiet, very normal life when she finds herself face to face with the very last person she ever thought she'd see at a farmer's market: Draco Malfoy.
Chaos, calamity and general hilarity ensue!
“Here’s the key, dear. Now, remember that you have to turn the lock twice to deadbolt the door. Make sure you do. It’s a safe town but you’re a young girl. Better to be safe.”
Hermione accepted the key to her new apartment, smiling at the landlady. She was going to perform several security spells as soon as she was alone but thought that assuaging the old lady’s concerns was a small price to pay for such a beautiful home.
“Thank you, Mrs Llewellyn, I'll be very careful.”
“I’ve left a lemon cake on the kitchen bench for you, dear, and there’s bread, a pint of milk and some eggs in the fridge. I didn’t know if you would have the energy to go shopping this evening, so I thought it would be best to keep some things for you.”
“Oh, you really didn’t have to, ma’am, I wo—,”
“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure. I’ve got to go now, my husband’s waiting for me at the town hall for bingo.”
“Thank you for everything. I really appreciate it.” Hermione walked Mrs Llewellyn to the door and waved as she went down the stairs. Shutting the door and dead-bolting the lock, she turned and sighed with relief. Even though she hadn’t yet removed her furniture from her purse, the small apartment was hers. Her home. A one-bedroom home, with a living and kitchen area, and best of all, a window seat looking out over the road.
Hermione got to work setting up the furniture she needed. Up until recently, the apartment had been a storage space for the bakery downstairs. When the baker’s wife, Mrs Llewellyn, had finally thrown out all of their unnecessary junk, she cleaned up the rooms nicely and advertised it on the local bulletin board a week prior. Hermione, who had been hopping around the little towns in the area, had snatched up the offer and eagerly contacted the Llewellyns to let them know she was a responsible adult who didn’t smoke.
At the time, Hermione didn’t know why she was so keen on renting an apartment in a village in the Cotswolds, but now, she breathed a sigh of relief. Churchbury was a sleepy town, with beautiful flowers and its namesake church sitting in the middle of the town centre. Everyone knew everyone and no-one was magical, as far as she could tell. At the end of the day, she wasn’t in Wizarding London, thankfully. In the months following the war, she had been swamped by adoring fans and crazed reporters, trying to get the scoop on her life. It turned out that, while Ron and Harry were also fair game, no-one really cared about what her two best friends were wearing, or what restaurants they went to. It was “Hermione Granger this” and “Hermione Granger that” and it was maddening. She had had enough by the time winter had rolled by and spring offered her the chance to travel the world. She told Rita Skeeter, in an effort to satisfy her, that her travels would be to get to know different cultures more intimately. However, she had lied. As soon as Skeeter had published an extremely exaggerated article stating that Hermione would spend the next six months with her secret Veela fiancé in Paris, Hermione Apparated to the English countryside to clear her head. No-one would know her there, and when she saw the advertisement for the apartment while walking past the town hall, she knew this would be a good hideout.
Hermione’s parents, now back in London and with fully restored memories, were happy that their daughter was going somewhere they deemed safe, especially after fighting in a bloody war. Her father had insisted that he teach his daughter some basic tips, like using a screwdriver and how to kill spiders. She didn’t have the heart to explain that her wand served as her tool for all such tasks, and let him spend an afternoon showing her how to hammer a nail and find the stud in a wall. Her mother was excited to visit and Hermione promised they could come and stay when she was settled. Harry and Ron had both expressed their confusion at her wanting to leave London for an extended time, but after she had assured them of her safety and gotten Ministry permission to have a Floo connection in her new home, they seemed okay with the idea.
“Promise us that you’ll visit for dinner often.” Harry said as he hugged her goodbye. He gave her a framed photograph of him, her and Ron smiling at the camera. It was the only Muggle photograph they had ever taken together. Ron handed her a large cake, most definitely from his mother, and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll miss you, Hermione, but at least it’s only a year. Don’t forget to owl whenever you can.” Thankfully he hadn’t tried to kiss her on the mouth. She had gently told him that she wasn’t interested in being more than friends after the war, and he had begrudgingly accepted that it was for the best.
Ginny had been the most excited about Hermione’s decision. She thought it would be a good way for Hermione to meet men. Tourists, she had reasoned, would pass through the area frequently. Male tourists, Ginny had said, winking.
“Be safe! Come back home whenever you’d like. We’ll be here, waiting for you.” She pushed a little figurine into Hermione’s hands. It was a wooden carving of two little girls, standing hand in hand.
“What is it for?” Hermione had asked.
“If you shake it, the matching one on my bedside table will light up and I’ll come straight through the Floo, in case you need some girl time. Even to chat.”
“Oh, Gin. It’s great, thank you.”
She was engulfed in a hug by Harry, Ron and Ginny, before Disapparating away to just outside her new village.
By the evening, Hermione had moved in most of her furniture and warded the apartment. It was really unnecessary in such a safe town, but she was a creature of habit and after spending a year on the run, protection spells were muscle memory. The bed she had bought was big. She was tired of sleeping on the tiny cot in which she had spent most nights of the last year. It was time for a large bed, where she could starfish out and not hit a wall or fall off. She placed the photograph on her bedside table along with Ginny’s gift. Walking into the living area, she surveyed her work. A big, soft sofa sat opposite a television set. She had set up several bookcases against the walls and laid cushions out on the window seat. Every tea she owned was now neatly stacked up in the cupboard above the kettle and a frittata was cooking in the oven. Her mother had secretly called ahead to the local grocer’s, and Hermione was surprised to find a parcel full of groceries show up with the delivery boy on his way home that evening.
“All done, eh, Crookshanks?” She had let him out of his carrier after she finished enlarging all the furniture from her bag. He was now sitting with his face pushed up to the window. He turned for a second back to give Hermione an admonishing glare, before returning to his earlier gaze.
As she sat back onto the sofa and waited for her dinner to be ready, Hermione was suddenly overcome by the feeling of acute loneliness. She knew it would be this way, being alone in a new town, but it was still an odd feeling. She ate dinner in silence and fell asleep at 9 pm.
— — —
Hermione walked down the path to the local farmers market. It was Saturday and she had spent the previous day moping and getting drunk on a bottle of wine that she had found in her mother’s grocery package. This morning, she had woken up feeling sorry for herself and decided, after a brief Floo call with Ginny and a Pepper-Up potion, to get out of the apartment and explore her new village. Armed with Muggle money and an assortment of cloth bags, she braved the market to meet her neighbours and buy some fruit.
“Miss Granger!” Mr Llewellyn waved from the bread stand. She smiled and walked over.
“Good morning, sir. How are you?”
“Well, thank you. Take a loaf for yourself, they’re nice and warm.”
She tried to pay but he insisted that she keep her money for other things. She tucked the seeded loaf into a bag and thanked him, making her way down the line of stalls. At the fruit seller’s, she picked up apples and oranges, as well as a bottle of cherry juice. At the cheesemonger’s table, she tried several local cheeses and bought a square of sharp cheddar for the pasta she planned to make tonight.
After her bags were heavy enough that she couldn’t walk much further, Hermione decided to turn back, until she caught sight of a stall at the very end of the market. A bookstall. Narrowing her gaze and marching over, she gasped. It was old books. Her favourite.
“Miss? Is there anything you’re looking for?” An old woman was sitting on a stool behind the table, a pair of thick spectacles perched on her nose. She had several layers of clothing on, regardless of the fact that it was a warm, sunny day. Hermione touched the spine of a novel and smiled at the lady.
“Just browsing, thank you. You have a lovely collection here, ma’am.”
The old lady looked very pleased and sat up.
“I own the secondhand bookstore over there,” she jabbed a thumb across the river at the row of shops opposite them. It was a tiny shop, wedged in between a tea shop and a florist. It reminded Hermione of 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Oh, it’s lovely.” She looked down at the books, gently letting her bags slide off her shoulders and onto the ground. Selecting a beautifully bound version of Pride and Prejudice, she opened it and sighed at the familiar words.
“Do you like Jane Austen, dearie?”
“Very much, Miss, uh—,”
“Owens. Mrs Dorothy Owens. What about you? What is your name?”
“Hermione.” It wasn’t Hermione who spoke, and she spun to her left to see the unexpected, grim and terribly handsome face of Draco Malfoy looking down at her.
“Oh my—,”
“Her name,” Malfoy turned to Mrs Owens and smiled his charming, reserved-for-strangers-only smile, “is Hermione Granger.”
#dramione#post-hogwarts#a year in the countryside#hermione granger#draco malfoy#harry potter au#hermione x draco#draco x hermione#dramione au
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Hidden Depths - Chapter 3
[Read it on AO3]
Arthur pressed deeper into the temple with his mage light as his only companion. He followed the winding path through a labyrinth of cold, echoing tunnels, until he arrived at the heart of the temple.
It was a vast cavern lit with beautiful, green glowstones. At the center lay an underground lake. The water was as dark as a moonless night, reflecting the glowstones like an infinity of stars spread out beneath Arthur’s feet. He stepped forward onto a stone outcropping on the edge of the lake and peered down into the inky depths below.
“Show me,” he murmured in the archaic language of the mystic arts. At the bottom of the lake, runes began to glow with power, spelling out an ancient incantation. Beneath that was a warning, that love required reflection and sacrifice.
Arthur nodded to himself and began to chant. The glowstones brightened as power flowed from his body, like blood from a seeping wound. The light took on a reddish tint. Arthur’s vision dimmed until the only thing he could see were the runes at the bottom of the lake. Blood pounded in his ears.
By the time he finished, Arthur was completely exhausted. He sank to his hands and knees and gasped for breath. He looked around the cavern, waiting for someone to appear. The cavern was completely silent other than Arthur’s heavy breathing. He waited for a sign, but no one came. The lights beneath the lake slowly dimmed and disappeared. Arthur leaned forward and peered into the water. Perhaps the spell granted a vision instead of making the person appear?
His reflection stared back at him—pale, skinny, with an irritated look on his face. Arthur sighed and his expression grew forlorn. It seemed with even the most powerful magic in the world, Arthur would never find love.
As Arthur looked down, his reflection in the water began to shift. He grew older, until he was an old graybeard with a cranky expression and thick eyebrows pulled together in a perpetual scowl.
“Yes, I get it,” Arthur replied. “You’ve made your point.”
The reflection shifted again, this time showing Arthur as a young boy in his family’s manor house. Arthur’s father stepped into the image. He towered over the young Arthur and scolded him angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re just playing,” the young Arthur replied quietly.
Arthur’s father pointed to the other boy standing next to Arthur. “He is a page. His duty is to serve you. You must never stoop below your station to mingle with your lessers, boy.”
The young Arthur nodded sadly as the servant boy slunk away.
The reflection changed again. This time Arthur was a young man in mage robes. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest near the infirmary.
“He could have died!” the captain of the mage guards shouted at Arthur.
“Well, he would have avoided my fireball if he had ducked when I told him to,” Arthur replied coolly. “What’s the point of a guard if he can’t follow orders?”
“We’re not your personal servants, Arthur. We serve the kingdom by protecting the mage circle. But if you’re more of a danger than the monsters, then I won’t be assigning you anyone else.”
“Fine by me,” Arthur said. “I can handle myself.” He turned to walk away.
“Not that you asked, but the healers said that Edmund will make a full recovery,” the captain called after him. “Of course, his hair may never grow back.”
“Next time he’ll know to duck.”
The reflection shifted again. This time Arthur had a surprised look on his face. He set his scroll down on the table and turned to look at the people who had waltzed into his personal study without so much as a by-your-leave.
It was the captain of the mage guard and next to her stood Alfred. She gave Arthur a chilly look. “Alfred, this is Arthur of Kirkland,” she said. “You are to protect him on his trip to Northon. You do not need to cook for him, clean for him, or carry his supplies, no matter what he may say to the contrary. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alfred beamed happily at Arthur. “I can’t believe I get to protect the hero of Grasmere!”
The captain sighed and shook her head, not that Alfred was paying any attention. “Yes, well, you should probably go prepare for your trip.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Alfred nearly ran out of the room in his excitement.
Arthur arched an eyebrow as he and the captain watched the young guard go. “Is he even capable of killing a monster?” Arthur asked snidely.
“Alfred is an extremely competent swordsman. He’s also naïve enough to believe you’re a hero, though I suspect spending time with you will disabuse him of that foolish nonsense.” She leaned down until her face was directly in front of Arthur’s face. “I’m only assigning him to you because someone on the council pulled strings on your behalf. If anything happens to him, I will deal with you personally.”
Arthur chuckled and returned to his scroll. “You shouldn’t make threats you can’t keep,” he replied dismissively. “Now run along, captain, I have actual work to do.”
The water went dark. Arthur stared into it for a few minutes longer, but nothing else appeared. He slowly stood up, dusted off his robes, and sighed to himself.
“Yes, I know I can be a real prick,” he muttered. “You were supposed to show me my soulmate, not rub it in my face!”
“A sacrifice is required,” a voice spoke to him in a deep, harmonic voice. “He is coming.”
Arthur jumped backwards in surprise. “Who is?”
“Sacrifice.”
Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Sacrifice part of yourself or lose him.”
“Lose who?” Arthur demanded, but his heart froze with fear as he guessed the answer. If the spell required a human sacrifice, there was only one person close enough to be within reach. Arthur angrily shook his head and glared at the lake. He couldn’t lose Alfred. He wouldn’t. He didn’t care if his refusal meant that he never found his soulmate. Even faced with a lifetime of loneliness, the price was too high to bear.
“Choose,” the voice said. The word rippled and distorted until it disappeared.
Arthur took a deep breath. He was the one who had foolishly pursued this temple despite the warnings and he was the one who would pay the price. “I won’t let you have him,” he said.
Before Arthur could react, the enchanted waters reached up to grab him and pulled him in.
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TFA ruined SW imo. As soon as they chose to have Han and Leia be shit parents to Ben the story was broken. Not to mention Luke trying to kill him in his sleep! I don’t blame Rian because he had to provide a valid reason for Luke to be hiding like a coward while the Galaxy goes to hell (which again, was set up in TFA not TLJ) and why Ben went dark. Ben never should’ve been evil and should’ve been the MC. It’s the SKYWALKER SAGA. So a Skywalker should’ve been the MC, not a Palpatine.
This basically turned into a Meta, so stay with me if you can! 😅
I think Rey worked well as being half of the protagonist while Ben served as the other half of the protagonist, as Rian Johnson put it. I do think that his backstory was desperately needed though. The full story of the Last Skywalker should absolutely NOT be told in side-stories like comics and books that most of the audience doesn’t read. His story parallels Rey’s beautifully, and it would’ve been amazing to see them really lean into that on the screen instead of just implying it and then filling all that in later in outside material. 🙄
Honestly I don’t see Han and Leia as being awful parents. I don’t see Luke as being a terrible Uncle either. I see them as people that grew up during an age of oppression and fighting a massive war that damaged them all on a deeply psychological and emotional level.
I see Leia being a fierce woman whose parents showed her they loved her by focusing everything on making the Galaxy a better place for her. I see a girl that inherited her mother’s political prowess and insatiable desire to fight for justice, along with her father’s cunning strategical mind in battle, and using these strengths to her advantage from a very young age. I see her as someone who had to stand by and watch her parents and her entire planet explode and die before her eyes. In the novel Bloodline, we learn that the only way she was able to keep fighting after that devastating loss (that none of us can even attempt to understand) was to focus on destroying Vader and the Empire once and for all and making them pay for what they did to her. I see her as someone who found out that the man who gave her life was the same man she hated with every fiber of her being. I see her as a woman that was terrified of her biological father having an influence on her and even seeing herself in him and his actions. Of knowing she has issues with extreme pride that make her want to force people to listen to her and do what she knows to be the way things should be. Of even feeling a small, dark sense of smugness at seeing them all blow up in the sky above her after they refused to listen to her (read TFA novel; it’s in there!). She had a lot of fear and a healthy dose of anger and darkness after everything she’d been through, and frankly I see a ton of Anakin’s flaws in her, just as she did. She wasn’t just scared of Ben being like his grandfather; she was scared of him inheriting the darkness from her. She kept all these fears and feelings close to her chest. She talked a little bit with Luke but not much. She didn’t talk to Han about it at all, feeling like he wouldn’t understand. She really didn’t think anyone would. She had so many walls put up around her emotions, yet she still wanted Ben to know she loved him. So she showed him the way her parents showed their love for her: by focusing on making the Galaxy a better place for him. Unfortunately that meant not being around much. How could someone hiding so much fear and loneliness be expected to raise a child perfectly?
I see Han Solo as an orphan that loved his father so much, he became a pilot to honor the dream that the man he adored never got to live out, and even got a ship that his father likely worked on. He carried the wound of losing his parents, especially his dad, all his life. But the circumstances of his childhood didn’t allow him to truly grieve. He had to hide it and put on a passive face in order to survive, never fully dealing with it imo. In fact I think he ran from that pain; literally. From planet to planet in fact. His scoundrel swagger masked his true self; the incredibly loyal and extremely compassionate man he actually was. He didn’t see that in himself though. He believed the Scoundrel™️ mask he wore, as much as his son Ben believed he was Kylo Ren. He thought he was a bad person and he had no business raising a kid who might pick up his bad habits. He couldn’t live up to the selfless and kind father that had given up being a pilot for him. He had to keep being a pilot and having adventures because his dad didn’t get to. He kept his dad from getting to do that. How could he reconcile the guilt of his father never getting to live his dream because he was too busy raising him, with the guilt of trying to make it up to his dad by having adventures but in turn not always being there for his own small son?
I see Luke as a kid that always longed for adventure, but learned very quickly that it can sometimes come with a terrible price. I see a boy that suddenly had the weight of the whole galaxy thrust upon his shoulders at just 19 years old. I see a boy that loves his friends so much he ran recklessly to their aid, knowing it was a trap and he would probably die. I see a man that was willing to die for the tiniest chance that his father might actually love him. Someone who then had to try and live up to all the hype and legends and expectations building up all over the galaxy without letting the weight of it all crush him. Someone trying to restore a millennia old order that he knew next to nothing about. Who then had a 10 year old child to look after, train, and basically raise because the boy’s parents had so much pain to work through concerning both their personal lives and each other, along with their individual levels of selfishness they’d learned to harbor in order to survive their cruel circumstances, which kept them from being fully present for their son the way he needed them to be. How could Luke balance the weight of the galaxy on one hand, the restoration of the great Jedi Order on the other, and be the extremely attentive uncle that soft and sensitive Little Ben needed?
They all failed him to be sure. But it wasn’t entirely their fault. They are each complex and layered characters that have experienced more than any of us could ever comprehend, and TFA and TLJ chose to show the toll their inner and outer struggles had on them.
They each loved Ben with their entire hearts and souls, and when Palpatine and Snoke claimed him, their lives were utterly shattered. Han and Leia’s marriage was completely destroyed. Luke wasn’t hiding out of cowardice; he hid out of shame and pain. He crumbled under the weight of the Mighty Skywalker name and expectations of being the one to make the hard and selfless choice and always save the day no matter what. Ironically, in trying to protect what he loved most, it cost him that very same treasure; his family. Not to mention it opened up the galaxy for another Dark Organization to take over. Wouldn’t you want to hide and live miserably until you finally die? That’s how I’d feel.
Luke wasn’t perfect. Neither were Han and Leia. They weren’t gods. They were all very flawed HUMAN BEINGS. That’s what made them so relatable. That’s the beauty of the way the original trio was handled.... up until TRoS. Han was great, but Luke and Leia were handled terribly imo. However, that’s a whole other topic. 😉
Sorry for the length! I hope you made it to the end! 😬😄
#I have many feelings#I love them all#ben solo#leia organa#han solo#luke skywalker#tfa#tlj#ask#anon#meta
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Runaway to the Circus ch 1
Pennywise x Beverly
summery: on the road for years since she turned 18, Beverly unintentionally returned to Derry. looking for work to support her continued travels she hears of a visiting circus hiring. wanting better support on her homeless road travels she things the circus life would be perfect for her. unfortunately she realizes too late who runs the place and that something hunts the circus staff.
status: In progress
rated: M - fowl language and gore
previous chap: None
next chap: TBA
_____________________________________
~ch:1 The runaway~
Beverly walked down the long empty road freshly wet after light rain fall. Sticking to walk the roads edge over the ditch beside it she usually followed for safety. The dirt ditch filled with run off rain water from the solid streets. Looking over the grey skys between the large pines partially hidden by fog sweeping in. taking a deep breath of the refreshing chilled forest air. Shivering into shifting the backpack on her shoulders. She both loved and hated walks like this.
So peaceful, but took a toll on her wandering body. The rain could be especially harsh even if it weren't a hard shower. Because unlike most she had no home and hadn't had one for the past 8 years. The weather was always a cause for concern when on the road. Taking shelter where ever she could from spots under bridges to a fast food places if they allowed her to stay. After so long she had gotten used to the open road life. Preferring to stay away from city's with many people wandering around. Some weren't so kind to those who were homeless. Although, it wasn't like she had such great faith in humanity before her hitting the road.
People were the whole reason she left, specifically her father. Among the many other extremes she faced in that town Derry. Hearing her story some would say her father was the least of her issues there. One summer she had made fresh new friends with a bunch of other kids. Calling themselves the losers club after everyone cast them out. Others like Henry bowers practically hunting them for sport to fulfill his psychopathic tendency's. One of them named Ben who escaped from Henry carving into his stomach with a pocket knife.
The only good that came of that was Beverly running into him and a few others patching him up. Helping bill, Richie, Eddie, and Stanley shoplift from the drugstore for medical supplies. Soon after that they helped mike being attacked by Henry down by the creek. They didn't know what was really haunting Derry at the time. Why no adults cared for there suffering. Why no one bothered with why so many children went missing. Bills little brother Georgie being one of them that his own parents stopped caring after a year.
All because of IT, Pennywise the dancing clown as he called himself. Red hair flared up into three sections. Silver Victorian looking suit with red pompoms, white ruffled edges, and a full white ruffled collar. Pure white gloves matching his pure white face paint, or actually his skin. The white broken by strong red markings crossing his lips to go from the corners up toward his eyes and over. Golden soul staring eyes that could lock anybody for a mere moment. Long enough to be grabbed for a torturous devouring.
She didn't know what IT was, but he wasn't human. Some monster who hibernated for around 30 years before cropping up again to terrorize the town. Devouring the children before his next long rest. She had to face him multiple times along with the other losers he hunted. He tried and tried to scare her, liking the fear to marinate all his meals. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, IT had no affect on her. She wasn't afraid of some monstrous clown. She had worse fears waiting for her back at home. Her father who at a few points tried to kill her. Forcing her to fight back in the bathroom by bashing him with a back toilet cover.
The clown came after to take her away for a final meal before his rest. Trapping her in the deadlights as if in a burning painful coma she couldn't wake from. Finally being saved by the other losers arriving. Fighting the clown down into a starving early sleep. They talked after the battle that involved making a blood promise if the clown returned. Afterwards they slowly separated to go home, with her being one of the last. Fearing what would greet her when she made it home. Would her father be dead after what she did? What would she do if he was?
That walk home felt longer then usual. A dark sinking feeling that was maybe lightened by a relief of being free. Getting lighter the closer she got that she felt for the first time she could breath around her apartment building. That disappearing the moment she entered to her father waiting on the couch. The injury on his head patched crudely from some home med kit. Glaring her down in dominating silence that had her heading straight to her bedroom to hide. Although that didn't matter with her room offering no protection by the lock-less door. Only the bathroom had a lock on it to separate her from her aggressive father.
Things were different after that day as he turned more aggressive. Maybe because she had escaped his grasp one too many times and rejected doing what he demanded. Seeing himself lose his grasp on her made him tighten the choke-hold he had on her life. One night she couldn't take fighting for her life anymore in this horrid place.
She hated running away, she was tired of running away and actually wanted to gain something for once. It became apparent to her that Derry would never give her the chance. Her father didn't truly love her like a father should. Her whole school labeled her the slut. Even the whole town called her a whore no mater what she did. The losers club was the only kindness she had in her 17 years of life. Becoming a runaway soon after her 17th birthday without sticking around to even finish high school. Dropping out as she fled Derry in the night with a bag of clothes. Some survival supplies she managed to scrounge up after carefully asking her friends. Even they didn't know she was running away. She preferred it that way to not drag out the goodbyes or for possible convincing to stay in Derry some other way. Leaving one last goodbye note in each of her friends lockers to explain she would be fine, but no longer in Derry to escape her fathers torment.
Traveling the road became her new life being far more forgiving despite its harsh side. Currently it had been unreasonably harsh in the weather department. Rain freezing her to the bone in soaked clothes as shelter seemed the hardest to find. A fear growing in her empty stomach that she was traveling down a barren road. that went on for far too long through the empty wilderness. She had a small amount of pocket change to buy a small cheese burger if she would just find a food place. Hell, even a gas station would do in offering up some on the road packaged sandwiches.
Grumbling in reply to her stomach growling at the thought of finding food. Two days she had been walking this road and it was getting serious on the lack of civilization she had run into. Should she turn back was one thought she considered. Possibly even settling down somewhere to channel her inner wilderness survival instincts. Hunt down a squirrel or rabbit for a filling meal to last her just enough down the road.
“fuck.” she thought. “maybe this road is new? No cracks, no potholes, not even slightly sun bleached. If it is new then that means nothings going to be built on it. A gas station may not even be built on it yet.” walking on and on down the smooth pavement. Her thoughts leading her to grow concerned about the lack of cars. A peaceful loneliness down the road could also be dangerous. All it took was the wrong car seeing a girl walking all alone down the road out in the middle of nowhere.
“wouldn't be the first time.” thinking back to a few cars trying to pick her up as a prostitute. remembering the other creepy black out cars following her around the dark streets she had to ditch by hopping a fence or two. Shoving the thoughts aside to focus again onto where she was heading. Gauging off where the sun was for a sense of time to decide if she should settle down for the night or not.
“if I sleep out here it could end up taking me another day or two to reach any kind of town. I already haven't eaten food for two days now and my water bottle is about empty.” sighing to herself over getting into this position. She should have checked a map somewhere to make sure this road actually ended up somewhere in a reasonable walking time. This was a problem she hadn't learned from in her entire years on the road.
There was always excitement in freely going where ever her heart desired. Never having to fear of someone looming over her to force her into a decision she didn't want. Freedom had a bit of a price however such as situations like this. Long walks with no rest in the middle of nowhere or needing to pass through a sketchy part of town. This much traveling relied on snatching work when you could to afford supplies. Skipping out on work meant skipping out on food down the road. Getting work made harder for Beverly keeping to the road. No high school diploma and requesting temporary work that pays under the table.
“soon as I reach some place I have to get a job.” rubbing her arms to warm herself against the cold air. The sun slipping down to fill the sky in various warm colors into the approaching night. “A couple dollars wont get me far.” squinting her eyes to the horizon when she saw a strange light. “something shiny? A chunk of glass way out here?” questioning what it was.
Eyes going wide at realizing it was a street lamp. Picking up her pace to jog up to it in being thrilled to see a bridge that could lead someplace with people. When she reached it there was a sense of Déjà vu coming over her. Rushing down a winding street that met with the entrance of a small town. Cars driving by while people walked home from ending their work day. Beverly wouldn't have the chance to find a job right now, then again. Spotting an open small corner store that she could buy some food for dinner. Maybe even managing to get a little paid work in unloading boxes for them.
Crossing the street she sensed that Déjà vu feeling, but why? What was causing it? Had she been in this small town before? Wouldn't surprise her as she visited many different towns in various states. Made sense that in her travels she may cross back through a town another time. Some places were pleasant enough she'd like to return for a short visit.
Heading inside the little corner store lit up by bright white lights hanging above. Heading first to snag a sandwich along side a large hot cup of coffee to keep her warm through the night.
Paying at the counter for the items before asking. “you guys have any small jobs available? Something small that you don't need a permanent employee?”
the old man at the counter shaking his head. “no, sorry. And honestly not even full jobs are available round here. Towns been getting smaller and smaller every week it seems. This place and the grocery store are the only two food selling places left. Not even a diner is around anymore and this place is only standing thanks to the gas station selling no food items.”
“shit, this place falling apart with the times.” sipping a bit of her coffee at the poor news. “Let me guess, the old factory's that kept this place a float moved on or closed?”
the old man giving a sadden nod. “exactly. Only a matter of time before I gotta pick up my house and move.” he sighed. “such a shame Derry might not exist much longer.”
that recognizable town name having Beverly almost choke on her coffee. “Derry? I am in Derry, Maine?” she asked the man to confirm.
“yes, why? You seem really surprised about it.”
“oh, I left here ages ago to travel the road through different states. Had no idea I had accidentally ended up back here.” thinking back on that strange road that she didn't remember being there as a child. “i came off that long road through the woods. Is it new?”
“oh wow, and yep. That road was just finished about a month or less ago. Townsfolk were hoping it'd bring a bit of life, but ironically it just convinced more to leave. One straight road leading directly to other roads that went to many city's near by doing far better then here.”
“no surprise. Derry wasn't exactly … safe.”
he quietly nodded in agreement. “only nice thing of recent was that traveling circus arriving off that road.”
“circus? Like the fair we usually get … or got.” unsure of if the visiting fair still arrived despite the circumstance.
“no, this is more the classical circus type. Tigers, bears, lions performing under the colorful big top inside the ring. They got wood wagons for their country travels on the roads. the real dangerous performances like eating fire that most got rid of years ago. They definitely don't deal with the safety inspectors.” chuckling over it.
“huh. Been a while since I've ever seen one of those.” the circus conjuring up an idea. Thinking this may be the perfect thing for her. “if I get a job on the circus I'll get a place to stay and food. A permanent residence yet I can keep traveling on the road regularly.” bringing her attention back to the man. “the circus is still here, right?”
“oh yeah, but it'll be leaving in a day or so from what I've heard.”
“where is it? The usual fair grounds?”
“off the main roads going onto dirt along the river. You'll walk through some forest, but you should see the big top tent and their Ferris wheel. If they still got them up anyway.”
“thanks, they could be just what I am looking for.” waving the man goodbye before rushing off to find the place. Aiming to make it before it got really dark and the circus runner wouldn't be in the mood to listen on a possible new hire.
Following the dirt path the old man mentioned to pass between rows of forest pines. Fog having cleared enough to reveal the tops of a towering red and yellow tent. A massive ferris wheel standing not to far from it able to be clearly seen against the grey sky's. Her dirt trail passing under two pines leaning over enough to cross into a fake arch way. Passing through she was covered in a strange feeling of mystical excitement. Like being a kid again visiting the circus for the first time although she didn't find a good reason to be feeling this. Her dad always took her to fairs and that greatly soured them for her. She was just here for a job, not to win prizes … unless it was some fair food.
Looking around she found some circus staff cleaning up the inner tent. Spotting someone not suppose to be their they cut Beverly off from going any deeper past the entrance. “hey, you cant be in here. Even with a ticket were closed for today.”
“sorry, I am actually looking for the person who runs the place. I want to try and get a job here for something more stable on the road traveling.”
the circus workers not looking too surprised another road traveler was looking to join the circus. “your looking for Robert grey. Hes currently in his wagon down by the tree line past all the other wagons. You better talk fast, because dinner will start soon and he isn't too happy about meal time being disturbed.” gesturing in the direction Beverly was to find everything.
“thanks.” following the pointed direction to a cluster of wagons, some huge and long with many wheels like a train cart converted to be more earth to road worthy. Beverly couldn't imagine the size and power of the horses needed to haul these things. They must have an army of horses just to haul a single wagon. Passing by she had many of the circus staff eyes looking her way. Confused as to why someone not from the circus was wandering around the grounds, especially by their living spaces of all places to explore on the grounds. She ignored them, as long as they didn't bother her to prevent her from joining. Spotting greys wagon sitting alone from the others. Half as large as the weird train like carts but still a hefty size for a traveling wagon.
Taking the few steps up to face the large dark wagon door. A lamp hanging above providing a small amount of light to attract moths from the dark. Staring at the door she had another wave of Déjà vu pass over her as if she'd seen the door before, but that couldn't be. She knocked firmly on the dark wood that looked incredibly aged. Heavily water logged at some point as if plucked from a lake it had been soaking in. then re-dried enough to be usable for a few more weeks before becoming brittle enough to crumble.
A mans deep smooth voice answering her knock. “come in.” the door opening slightly with a click to its handle. Yet no one was near the door when she fully spread it from the doorway. Not far from the entry way was a desk with an empty chair in front of it and behind was a large chair facing away to hide who ever was sitting in it. “have a seat.” the man spoke again.
Beverly quietly stepped over to take the seat. Nervous of what to expect for a traveling circus interview. Surely they wouldn't care on if she graduated high school or not. As long as she could write and count out money. She could work whatever job they needed her for. Whether it physical labor or some sort of filing. The owner speaking again before she could. “what is it you want?”
“a job.”
“here, why?”
“I've been living on the road since I was 17. Its been rough and I've been wanting some stable source of living, but still on the road. I felt the circus was perfect for that and I can work where ever you need me to.”
“are you sure?”
“yes, I cant start immediately if I am accepted.”
“then welcome aboard.” the smooth male voice shifting to a higher pitch. One that knotted Beverlys stomach into something pale. Blood draining from her face when the chair swiveled around to reveal the clown, IT, grinning widely at her. “whats wrong Beverly? You look like you've seen a ghost.” he laughed.
Beverly jumped up from her chair, shock turning to anger. “its you!”
“aww, why so angry? You seemed excited for this job.” he teased.
“fuck you!” she snapped before fleeing from the wagon. Hearing the clowns laughter follow her out the door.
“cant break your contract now Beverly!” she heard his voice mock her from behind.
She ran from the circus grounds pas the arch made from trees. Fleeing down the dirt road for a time before coming to a halt. Somehow she had looped back to the arching trees leading to the circus. She turned around to flee again away from the grounds. Swallowing hard at the arch coming back into her view a third time. “no.” she swallowed hard in refusing to believe what was happening. Attempting a fourth time to escape her new found prison. Time and time again those arches greeted her on her running path. Forcing her to accept that this was her final place no matter how long she ran.
“fuck.” she breathed out on what little air she gained. Accepting that their was no escape and that she had to face the clown.
Making the small nervous trek back to his wagon with the door remaining wide open for her. “oh, back so soon?” the clown teased as she sat annoyed in the chair.
“shut up.” she snapped. “ now what?” wanting to get past all his mocking and straight to the point.
“you work for me now, what else is there to say?” snickering with a shrug of his shoulders. “we'll start tomorrow as today has ended. Go eat dinner and rest up in the 3rd wagon. You'll have a lot of work tomorrow.”
she raised a brow. “I'll actually get to eat?”
“of cooourse. Cant have you starving when we haven't even gotten started.” grinning widely. “Foods served under the tent. Breakfast and dinner only, lunch entirely relies on you buying with your own dimes. Theirs also an employee discount at the food carts.” the few things he mentioned seeming odd on why he even bothered with, however she wasn't going to sit there and interrogate him on all of this. “i already let them know you're part of the big circus family.” he chuckled.
Wanting to get away from him she left without another word to the tent. Hunger stabbing at her stomach far too painfully to reuse food. Even if he turned a bowl of rice to maggots she may be tempted to eat the extra disgusting protein. One step into the tent entrance had her swarmed by other circus staff wanting to question her.
“you know Robert grey?” “how long have you known him?” “why'd you join the circus?” “have you been in a circus before?” “how long have you lived the road life?” the questions swarmed her, only one standing out to her over the others. “are you hungry?”
“i am starving.” was her answer to whoever asked. Thinking through the other questions another stood out. “Robert grey? Pennywise was using a fake name? Did they only know him as Robert or did he also go by Pennywise?”
following a group who offered to show her to the dinner line. Some staff handing out pre-plated food from a kitchen cart of sorts parked next to the tent. A make shift dining hall set up in the tents middle ring. Beverly took one look at the food and her mouth filled with drool. At least the place didn't skimp on the portions. A silver trey covered in a heaping pile of rice mixed with vegetables sitting atop were pieces of grilled chicken Brest and a leg. a full cob of corn, sided by a small bowl of salad with a packet of ranch on the side. Grabbing her silverware and a few packets of seasoning before heading off to sit at one of the dining tables. Feeling the odd one squeezing in to a new spot she wasn't sure if she would even be accepted into.
Having horrible memories coming to the surface of being shooed off from her dining spot at a school lunch table multiple times. Eventually finding it best to eat alone outside under a tree. That was quite the opposite here with everybody swarming her again to repeat the questions they had. She got down a few chunks of grilled chicken before speaking to any of them. She wanted something to fill her stomach before something caused her food to be ruined.
“did I know Robert grey, you mean Pennywise? I've known him, but I wish I didn't.” eating more chunks of meat and stuffing down rice. Not caring if she looked to be lacking table manners in stuffing food down. Chugging down a whole glass of freshly poured lemon aid offered from the tables center.
Most didn't seem to care for her starved hunger, appearing obviously thin that no one wanted to disrupt her stuffing of food. Only one older lady seeming to care, glaring in disgust at Beverlys earned gluttonous eating. “don't choke on the bone dear.” the women sneered.
Beverly rolled her eyes in response, continuing her meal. A few others glaring at the women. “don't mind her.” another girl spoke. “Selenas been working here a while and assumes shes the manager around here, but don't believe that. Greys the only one in charge of what happens, not her.”
“i should be!” Selenas snapped with her fist pounding the table. “i was here first before all you children! I have been a traveler far longer then all of you and have been hardened by the life you all dare to claim as yours!” growling at them all as if offended. “you were all pampered in homes for far too long to be called travelers.”
“so why'd you start working with grey?” the curious group ignoring the snapping women.
“i only started working with Pennywise because I had no choice.” Beverly holding her anger back. Although the rest hardly noticed her negative feelings.
“working under grey is so nice. He lets us have so much, it must be difficult on such a tight circus budget.”
“yeah, yeah.” Beverly waved off. Finishing her huge plate of food before getting a small tour by everyone. Mentioning that things may be changed after each move. Something that Beverly was curious about as she assumed Pennywise was trapped in Derry. After the tour she was brought to her new wagon home. Brought to an empty loft bed toward the end, the top a bed next to a small rectangle window and small shelves on either side of it. Large enough to hold a water bottle and small trinkets. Below the bed was a personal space of a wall wardrobe, window, and a slide up mirror behind a desk against the wall. A vanity desk for putting on make up or dressing into outfits.
Beverly didn't have much with her in her backpack. Old clothes, a wallet held with duct ape carrying mostly change now and a mashed water bottle she could probably throw away now. Assuming shed be here for at least a few days she packed the clothes away. Bringing her back pack up as another pillow to use. Laying down on a bed after sleeping on concrete to leaf litter was like heaven on her back. Swearing it cracked in multiple places from laying straight after so long. She knocked out as soon as she pulled the curtain closed to her “bedroom”.
Waking to someone shaking her in the morning. Believing only a few hours had passed, if she had not been able to see the new morning from her small window. Turning to look at the person disturbing her sleep she flinched back from the clown. “time to wake up for work.” grinning at her. Tall enough to be face to face with her on the loft bed. She groaned as he left off the wagon, leaving her to get ready in private. Dressed in fresh clothes she met back up with him outside.
“what do you want?” still sounding exhausted.
“ever worn a straight jacket?”
“uh, nooooo.” raising a brow at the clown.
“come on, we need to get you fitted before the show.”
“what?! Fitted for a jacket? For a show, what show?! What am I doing?!”
“our new escape show together! Out of locks, water tanks, spiked boxes, oh all the thrill they'll bring.” speaking positively of the whole show he threw together in one night. “and if you cant handle them. Then it'll also bring the fear.”
Beverly huffed at him, figuring out the game he was playing with her. “hes hoping to scare me with extreme shows. Either I power through them or I become a perfect meal at the shows end.”
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Found Chapter 1: The Beginning of Something Dangerous
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767074/chapters/51934681
NEXT CHAPTER CLICK HERE
Second year in college was already Hell. Lotor, a Political Science major with a minor in Humanities, walked across campus to greet his loving, albeit aggressive, long-time girlfriend Allura with her usual cup of coffee and a kiss on her forehead. She sits, studying aggressively, in the library at a table. Lotor takes this moment to smile fondly, watching his love. Lotor had been in love with her since they were mere children and he considered himself lucky when Allura accepted his affections in their second year of high school. He sighs in content, sets down her coffee in front of her and kisses her forehead.
“Good morning, my love.” Lotor says with a smile. Allura grunts in acknowledgement, continuing her writing. Her white hair was tossed up in a messy bun, the sunlight kissed her tan skin. If people were not aware that they were a couple (hardly anyone did not know as they were The Power Couple), they would be mistaken for siblings. Same white hair, same tan skin. The only difference was that Lotor had deep sea blue eyes that were nearly purple and Allura had sky blue eyes with green around the edges of her pupils. “Now, when is this due and how late did you stay up?” Lotor chuckled, sipping on his coffee.
“Today, in” Allura finally pauses to glance at a clock, “forty minutes. I have not slept at all, so the coffee is a Godsend. Thank you Lotor.” She sighs with a soft smile. Lotor feels relief wash over him as she smiled. He thought for sure this would be one of Allura’s bad days and nothing could cheer her up, not even him. Though this was just a narrow miss. Anything could go wrong today and that would put her in a foul mood. Hopefully he would know just what to do when the time comes.
“May I ask, how long did you procrastinate on this one?” Lotor probed cautiously. The last thing he needed was to be the cause of Allura’s bad day. His job was to be a loving and caring boyfriend that considered only Allura’s feelings, tossing aside his own for her wellbeing.
“Oh, not that long, maybe a week or so?” Allura said idly, going back to her work. Ah, so about two weeks then. Lotor could have joked that he had done this long before the due date, mainly cause all his obligations had nothing for him to do (which was extremely rare), but that would definitely irk her. Lotor checked his vibrating phone. It was a message from Makenziel, his roommate and closest, if not only friend.
“Who’s that?” Allura said, glancing towards her boyfriend for a moment. She already knew the answer, but she allowed Lotor to tell her himself.
“Makenziel. He was just wondering if I was busy later. Told him I was probably going to be tired. Have quite a few meetings today after class and then I’ll be with you all night.” Lotor cheered. Allura rolled her eyes, sighing under her breath. Lotor chewed on the inside of his lip. That might have set her off on the wrong side.
“Good. I want to cuddle tonight. You’re sleeping on the couch.” Allura said, continuing to write. Okay, not so bad. Just the couch tonight. Lotor would sneak out in the wee hours of the morning and go back to his apartment and rest peacefully there. It was not like Allura cared; she never liked seeing him early in the morning. Ah, look at the time.
“I’ve got to go, Princess.” He said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you later.” Lotor said, which was met with no response. Lotor paused, pursing his lips together for a moment. “I love you Allura.” Lotor said softly. A grunt of approval from Allura. Defeated, Lotor slunk to his class with a sigh.
Hours and hours of classes, nothing but sitting and listening to others. Lotor hated going to class, but he needed the attendance. He should have taken the online classes, maybe next semester. Lotor could have taught the course to himself and passed, in fact that was practically what he was doing. It was difficult juggling physical classes and strenuous academic clubs as well as Student Government, but somehow Lotor did it. He stops by his apartment to drop off his unnecessary things and notices Maken’s ribbon on the handle. Ah, he was working, better be quiet.
Maken laid in bed, moaning occasionally as a customer that he did not know personally did what he wanted with him. Maken was cute, but he really was not feeling this particular customer today. They had been at it for 45 minutes and Maken had not even gotten fully hard. This was boring, this customer was boring. He was hard to look at too. He was the type to fuck and leave without any type of real foreplay. He looked up at the other smiling softly more as a reassurance of the others performance despite his apathy toward it. Nothing for Maken to look at, nothing to feel strongly towards, just nothing. With a few more thrusts, the other came leaving Maken grossly unsatisfied and underwhelmed. He wondered what Shiro was doing later. At least Shiro knew how to turn him on and fuck him silly. Once the man pulled out, he gave Maken the money. “You’re short $20” Maken said as he counted the money.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” The man said, putting on his shirt and pants and handing over the other $20 “Thanks for a good time.” He said with a soft smile, leaving the room. Maken smiled softly, at least he was sweet. He would have to work on his sex game, but someone would snatch him up for sure, at least if they did not care much for looks. Maken quickly stuffed the money in his wallet and with his cute panties on rushed out after him.
“You need some practice. You’ve got a good base, so I can teach you how to be a proper top.” Maken said, leaning against the side of the door. The man scanned Maken’s body, feeling heat lick at him again.
“I’ll be coming back soon. Same price?” Maken nodded and was surprised by a soft kiss before the man left for real. Maken’s tan cheeks flushed from the sudden gesture and closed the door. He walked past the kitchen, where Lotor took a long sip of his coffee while looking directly at Maken, which made his blush grow to the tips of his ears. He immediately grabbed the blanket on the couch and covered himself.
“Didn’t have a good time, Angel?” Lotor teased. Maken was undeniably gorgeous, long curly black hair, sunkissed tan skin, big chocolate brown eyes that reflected topaz in sunlight, long eyelashes, pouty kissable lips and a body like a dancer. Of course he looked like a dancer, he was one. And a singer, and a musician, and did art too. If it had anything to do with art, and creating something, Maken was all over it. If Lotor had not loved Allura as much as he does, he would have most definitely snatched Maken up and if Lotor had not been such a faithful man…well, Maken would not have to be trading sex for money.
“Well, he’s not much to look at and he lacks experience, but he seems really sweet.” Maken said, grabbing a mug and pouring a cup of tea. “So someone would really like him, especially once I teach him properly.” Maken smiled. “I thought you weren’t coming back. At least not until the wee hours of the morning like usual.” Maken tilted his head cutely. Lotor’s lips twitched upwards into a soft, fond smile. His closest friend was such a cute man. It did not help that he was shorter than him. Not by much, but still. Lotor stood at 6 feet 3 inches, where Maken was a mere 5’9.
“I was dropping off my things before I accompany Allura for tonight. I believe that she may be a little upset tonight. She put me on the couch just for mentioning that you had texted me just to be aware of my schedule.” Lotor shrugged with a sigh. “She’s become so touchy lately…” He said forlornly.
“She thinks I’m going to steal you away from her, despite you two being together for four years without you cheating on her once.” Maken scoffed into his mug as he finished off his tea, tossing it into the sink. “I’m saying this as your friend Lotor, but you really need to pay attention to how she is treating you. I am very worried. What she does…it’s not normal.” Maken says. “You come home with black eyes and welts on your body and face.” Maken touches Lotor’s shoulder. “She’s beating you and you keep going back to her. I understand, I’ve gone through it before. I just hope you can get out like I did.”
Lotor looked down, phantom sores of all old wounds tingling under his skin as a reminder. He wrapped Maken in his arms gently, taking a small comfort in their intimacy and friendship. “Tonight is tame. Hopefully nothing goes horribly wrong.” Lotor half forced a smile. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Lotor whispered. “I’ll be off. Don’t want to be late, lest that be another tick on her list for the day.” He continues with a sigh, grabbing his keys and heading out.
Maken watched after him, taking the blanket off. For the longest time, he had been in love with Lotor. Lotor was smart, kind, funny, handsome, and most of all, extremely caring. Everything Maken could dream of in a man. But of course the perfect man had to be taken by someone undeserving. He sighed, the loneliness getting to him. Then his phone rang. It was Shiro, his favorite customer. “Hi, hun~ the usual?” Maken asked. “Good. I need a little pick me up. Maybe, my favorite can cheer me up? I’ll see you in a little while~” Maken, with a small smile, hung up the phone and spent his time tidying up the apartment and cleaning himself up for his next appointment.
#lotor#prince lotor#lotor/oc#lotor/male!oc#not for lotura but yall can read i guess#just dont go getting crazy#idk how many chapters ill do#first chapter is up#second chapter is on the way and boy does the drama start
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