#and read all the side stories we have access to

[mumblingsage]

This is one of the additions I appreciate most (there have been many great ones!), and in hindsight, I wish I'd put more context like this my original post. It was unnecessary to insist books/media can't be traumatic, which is dismissive of anyone who might be vulnerable and unfortunate enough to actually have been traumatized in that way and created a lot of side disputes about whether it's possible, which has distracted from the main goal of better understanding what trauma is like. If I had a do-over, I'd have phrased more of it with questions -- "Do you actually mean 'traumatize'? Do you know what goes into trauma and PTSD or acute stress disorder? Knowing that, do you feel it's accurate to use that term? What do you think might be the knock-off effects on trauma survivors (including and especially anyone who has been through a real-life version of the book/movie? Are you telling someone their basic existence is an infohazard, contaminating, unspeakable)? And lastly, could you use advice or support or resources to manage the aftermath of reading that book?"

Depending on how the rest of the conversation went, that last question might be said sarcastically. Though I do realize, especially after reading the notes of this post, that some people need access to much better coping strategies for managing feelings that fiction gives them. And stories can have lingering effects, some of them downright strange when we type them out (your snake example reminds me of some childhood experiences I blogged about earlier as an outgrowth of discussion around this post, and a few continuing adult habits of mine). But not all effects, even negative or uncomfortable ones, rise to the level of "trauma." And the experience of learning and having empathy for a terrible situation can, as you say, result in a "me" the reader likes and appreciates! (My last caveat is that nonfiction on topics like the Holocaust, because it's a real-life and generational trauma, might not always function the same way as fiction. People can and do get secondary/vicarious trauma from taking in media coverage of real life atrocities and tragedies. Though it's more likely to happen to the contractors moderating Facebook to remove violent imagery for hours on end, or someone processing information about their own family or loved ones' deaths or injuries, rather than to a Gentile like me reading a book on the Holocaust written and illustrated for a general audience while reclining comfortably on my couch. I read Primo Levi's Survival in Auschwitz as a preteen 21 years ago, and some details and phrases stick with me. But I'm not getting sensory flashbacks or dragging myself around in a fog on the anniversary of the date I read the book. Levi survived the trauma of Auschwitz. I just read about it.)

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[echidnana]

anyways unrelated to the last post but project sekai has been our first genuinely steady long term special interest and engaging with it has been an absolute joy.

[diltonsstrangescience]

This is the worst security I’ve seen in my entire life.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

And there you go. There's a leek is bee's

I love this latent implication that a bee derives a life directing joy from the passive production of honey

[loverslodge]

very discreet

summery: you and bucky have a relationship nobody is aware of. they keep trying to set him up with other women while bucky is trying to avoid them.

pairing: Grumpy!Bucky x Quiet!Reader

warning: SMUT, fluff, bad writing???, swearing

A/N: clearly i have a thing for grumpy bucky but i also have a thing was hidden relationships. you can read the asks for this fic at the lodge's BNB and also here is the steve's story in this universe

“Oh come on Bucky, how long will you stay single? Don't you think it's time you start looking for a partner?” Natasha pointed her knife at Bucky while they were polishing their weapons.

“I don't need anyone, Nat.” Bucky sighs and keeps on cleaning his guns.

“Bullshit!” Natasha stabs the wooden table beside Bucky. “We're all wrung out after missions and we all need a release. You know better than to stay holed up in a room with veins full of adrenaline. If not a girlfriend, get some beneficial partner.” Natasha shrugged.

“You might be doing that, Nat but I really don't need someone. I am happy where I am.” Bucky picks up his guns and arranges them back in their place. He wipes his workstation clean and walks out.

The mission today wasn't that bad but Bucky felt tired. The entire team has been on his case for over two months. How can he convince them that he doesnt need anyone? He's fine where he is. In fact, he is happier than ever and he would never trade this with anything else.

He walks in his room and wearily grabs his towel and sweatpants to take a shower. He turns on the water and stands under it till he hears his bathroom door being opened. He turns on the hot water to the right temperature and shuffles to make space. He hears some rustling and the shower curtain is pulled slightly open. You, very slowly step in and stand under the water source.

“I missed you, doll.” Bucky wraps his arms around you. You nod with a slight blush.

You pull out the loofah and pour the body wash on it. Bucky takes it from your hand and starts helping you clean up. Once you are covered in soap, you turn to Bucky and return the favor. Washing away the grime, dirt and tiredness of the day, you both towel each other dry.

“Bucky,” You point at one of his t-shirts from the wardrobe and look down thinking he might reject what you're asking.

“You don't need to ask me, doll. What's mine is yours.” He pulls a t-shirt on you and kisses your cheek. You nod and blush even more. You shuffle onto the bed and snuggle to your side of the bed, waiting patiently for Bucky to come.

“Tell me about your day, doll. Was it very draining?” he slips into the bed and brings you closer. You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest and nod a yes.

He sighs in content and pulls the comforter up. Your legs are parted and one of them is resting on Bucky’s hips. He kisses your forehead and his metal arm slowly drags to your inner thighs. You weren't wearing any underwear, giving complete access to Bucky, as he plunged his metal middle finger into your core. You gasp and your hold around Bucky tightens. He pulls out his finger and rubs your clit, making you moan in his chest. His hold on your waist tightens as he pushes two fingers in you again and uses his thumb to caress your nub. Your moans and gasps fill the quiet room as you reach the edge. You twist a little and put your hand on your mouth as you come all over Bucky’s sweatpants. You sigh and push Bucky a little, signaling him to grab new sweatpants. He complies and snuggles back into the bed against you.

……………………

The kitchen was lively today. Nobody was on a mission so the atmosphere was very relaxed. But not everyone was relaxing.

“Bucky, come on, go on this date. She's really nice and totally your type.” Sam pushed the topic further.

“How do you know my type, bird brain?” Bucky walked behind the kitchen counter.

You were standing there, making lunch for everyone while Bucky helped. Bucky would discreetly hold your waist or find a way to keep close to you in the kitchen. You were a blushing mess but Bucky didn't mind. As he saw nobody was looking, he kissed your cheek and went to the fridge to pretend as if nothing had happened. You just stood there with eyes wide.

“Let me help out.” Bucky very subtly held your waist and moved you away from the stove and started stirring the soup pot. He knew he had shocked you enough and you needed to calm down.

“She's all goth. You grunt, she stares. It's like a match made in heaven, Tinman. Go out with her. Nat arranged the date for you.” Sam continued and Nat nodded.

You looked up and saw Bucky roll his eyes and shake his head. His hand went to his chest and caressed his shirt before going back to the stove.

“I'm not going anywhere. I've told you before, I do not want to go on dates. I am happy where I am.”

“Too late, Barnes. She'll be waiting for you at the cafe this evening. I've already arranged the date and promised her. You can't back out now.” Nat warned Bucky.

“What the fuck, Nat! I told you I'm not interested. Cancel it. Im not going and thats final.” Bucky slams the stirring spoon on the counter and stomps out of the kitchen but not before subtly nudging you to follow.

“Talk some sense into him. He listens to you. Tell him it is a good idea to meet new people,” Sam pleads to you.

You just shake your head and grab some soup in two bowls. One for you and one for Bucky. The rest of the team gather slowly to grab the soup.

You stop in front of your door and knock. A furrowed eyed Bucky opens the door and side steps to let you in.

You hold out the soup bowl towards Bucky who has turned his back to you. “Bucky?”

Your quiet whisper of his name was enough to melt his brains off. He stands up and takes the soup bowl from your hand, putting it to the side. He hugs you and nuzzles his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. Your hand instinctively wraps around his waist and you start rubbing his back to calm him down.

“They just won't let it go. I'm sorry, doll. I wish I could give a better reason to them.” Bucky mumbles into your neck, sending waves of goosebumps all over your body.

“It's okay. Go.” You try to make him go because you know what it's like to be stood up and you know for the fact that Bucky will stand the girl up.

“I'm not gonna listen to you this time, doll. This is ridiculous. I am not leaving and that is final. Maybe I'll send one of those apology flowers you talk about to her through Happy.” he tightens his hold on you. You sigh. You knew it was pointless from getting him to change his mind.

You just wanted him to go and tell the girl that he is committed elsewhere but he is so stubborn that he won't even listen to what you have to say so you try to pull away to at least have him finish his soup.

“No. stop pulling away.” He sits back on bed with you in his lap, not even letting you go. You giggle and try to make space between the two of you so you can at least grab the soup bowl.

“Bucky, soup.” You manage to release your hand point at the bowls.

“Fine. but only because you are hungry and you made this with so much love.” His stomach grumbles and he makes a face, making you giggle even more.

His frown melts into a smile and he grabs your face, peppering kisses all over it, making you giggle and laugh. “This is why I'm not going anywhere. You are perfect, doll. I love you.”

……………………

“You piece of shit! Did you seriously stand her up? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nat blasted at him and threw a punch at him.

Bucky ducked and svewerd to the side to keep you safe. You were standing very close to Bucky to hide the fact that he was holding your waist. But just as Nat threw a punch at him, he pulled away and moved away from you.

“Are you crazy? You could have hurt her.” Bucky pointed at you while dodging Nat’s punches. “And I sent flowers to say sorry. I told you I am not interested. When I say no, accept it.”

Bucky blocks Nat’s punches with his metal arm and pushes her away. Before she could do more damage, Steve walks in and stands between Bucky and Nat.

“Enough, both of you. This is not a dueling ground. Walk it off, Romanov. And you, Bucky, let's talk.” Steve nods at you and guides Bucky out of the gym leaving you sigh in relief.

That night, everyone had dinner on their own. You weren't very keen on cooking so you, Bucky and Steve got pizza together. They had put on Harry Potter since you loved talking about it.

Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you mouthed the dialogues with the characters. He smiled. Steve nudged Bucky and shook his head with a smile.

Steve loved seeing his best friend so happy. Steve loved you like a sister too. Your quiet and shy nature had calmed Steve in many situations and he was grateful. You had taken Steve’s side during the fallout and helped Bucky without a complaint. Surprisingly Bucky wanted to keep you by his side. Steve saw Bucky open up to you and you accepted him naturally. One day Steve found Bucky cuddled up with you and he knew this was his brother’s happy ending.

“I'm off to bed. Doll, take care,” Steve kissed your forehead. “Buck, please stop fighting with people. And think about what I said, both of you. I know where you come from but think about it before it causes more such issues.”

Steve closed the door behind him as he walked out and went off to bed. You turned off the movie and got up to throw the boxes away. Bucky took the boxes from you and walked out of the room to throw them off while you cleaned up the room and got ready to sleep.

Bucky walked in, took off his shirt and crawled in the bed beside you. “What are you thinking, doll?” He saw your solemn expression.

“Maybe Steve is right.” You whisper quietly, fumbling with the edge of the blanket.

Bucky holds your hand and pulls you close to lie on his chest. “Are you worried? I will do what you want to do, doll.”

“You have been doing what we want, Bucky, but after today, I didn't think it would get this serious.”

“Are you talking about my little tiff with Nat? It worked out at the end. You know that.” Bucky kissed your forehead.

“That and the fact that you got set up on a date. I-i know that you won't ever go but, it-it scared me. I-” Your voice started to waver.

You cried on Bucky’s chest. He lifted your face up and wiped away the tears, kissing your forehead.

“Doll, I get it. That's what made me more angry. They were talking about it to you as well. Trying to involve you in their little plans. I hated that you had to listen to all of that.”

“So? What do you think?” You lift your face and rest your chin on his chest, looking at him.

“Don't tell Steve I said this, it'll get to his head, but he is right.”

You rise up to give him a peck but Bucky pulls you for a deeper kiss. You moan and straddle his waist. He lifts your (his) t-shirt up and throws it on the floor, without letting his lips leave yours. You grind against his clothed erection.

“Didn't wear any panties, doll? My perfect girl.”

He flips you and removes his sweatpants. He aligns himself against your folds and slowly pushes himself in. your back arches on the bed and a loud moan escapes your throat. He flips the pair of you again and gets you on top of him, pushing his cock deeper into you. You slowly start to grind against him, making him moan and hiss. His hands are kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples as he starts pushing himself into you. You start bouncing over him to match his rutting speed.

“Fuck, doll. You're being so good right now.”

You whimper as you get closer to the edge. “Bucky, im gonna-”

“Cum, doll. Ive got us.”

His speed increases and soon you both cum and he fills you up while you're gushing down on him. You pant as your body falls on him. He caresses your back as you both catch your breaths.

He slowly gets up, taking you with him, to the bathroom to clean up. The cleaning up in the shower turns into another session and later you both fall on the bed, naked and exhausted. You pull yourself a little further from Bucky and pull out a dainty gold band from the bedside table.

You hand the ring over to Bucky who chuckles and slips it on your finger. You sigh with content and snuggle into the blanket with Bucky’s chest against your back, all tucked in.

……………….

The New Year’s party by Tony Stark is always iconic and it was just as this year too. You and Bucky came to the party together. Bucky was immediately called over by Tony to meet some people while you made your way to the corner of the room. Steve saw you and stood beside you with beer in his hand.

You look at Steve with beer and giggle.

Steve looks at you and rolls his eyes. “I know. But I enjoy the feeling of the bottle in my hand. Makes me feel normal, y’know.”

You nod and pat his back. He relaxes. You point at his hand and he shakes his head. “Not today.” Steve instantly changes the topic. “Bucky told me about your plan today. I'm here for support, you know that, right?” You nod your head vigorously, making Steve laugh out loud.

Hearing Steve laugh, Bucky turns his head in the direction to see a smile on your face while Steve laughs. He relaxes a little and goes back to the conversation. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get to you the entire night. Someone either dragged him away or you were occupied with conversation with the teammates, but mostly it was the first reason.

It was time for dinner and you started digging around the buffet table to find your favorites. Bucky subtly joined you and handed him the plate.

“I'm nervous, doll.” He whispers in your ears. You look up to him and his stale blue eyes are staring deep into yours. You look around to see if someone isn't looking and pull him in a very secluded corner. You peck his lips and hug him tightly. He releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and wraps his free arm around you.

“Thank you, doll, I needed it.”

You take the plate from him and walk back to the buffet table and gather more food before moving back to the corner of the room. Bucky looks at you as you go with a bounce in your step. He could tell you were happy with the decision and he smiled.

……………….

People were counting down and Bucky was dragged to the other side of the room. You stood in your corner and tried to find Bucky in the crowd. You could have pushed through but he was too surrounded. You shift from one foot to another. The heels were killing you and Bucky had promised that you'd leave immediately after the countdown was done.

Bucky dodged and stumbled against the crowd to reach you. He heard many women in the crowd saying they had a chance with him and he did not want to give it to them.

3

Bucky came across one woman who tried to grab his shirt.

2

Natasha pointed at some woman behind Bucky who would like a kiss but Bucky distracted her

1

Almost there

Happy New Year!

Your back was to the crowd. A hand slipped around your waist and pulled you around to face your blue-eyed man. “Happy New Year, doll.”

He kissed you deeply. He was pouring out all the adrenaline that had flown into him while reaching you. Your hand cupped his face and pulled him closer. His metal arm held the back of your head to angle it better while his flesh arm held you tightly against his body.

You heard the entire room gasp and then pin drop silence. You needed to breathe so you tapped his shoulder twice. He pulled his lips away from yours and rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess it's time, doll.”

He moves to your side and pulls you closer to him. But before he could get a word out, Sam jumped in.

“You and her? When did that happen?”

“Well, if you would be quiet, I would tell you.” Bucky pulls you to the couch and sits down, taking you on his lap. You try to slide down beside him but his hold won’t budge. “Well, this is a family matter and I assume the rest of you got the message.”

“Right, well, thank you all for joining the party but I guess it ends here today.” Tony starts shooing people away.

Steve comes and sits beside Bucky and you. He slaps Bucky on the back supportively and you smile a little before burying your face in Bucky’s neck out of embarrassment.

“Everyone is gone. Out with it, Tinman.” Sam jumps onto the adjacent sofa with Nat and the rest of the team in tow.

“We're married.” Bucky pulls out his hand from around your waist and grabs your left hand to show off the matching wedding bands.

“What the fuck!!!” Natasha jumps out of the seat and comes close to check the rings.

“Since when?” Tony asked.

“Three years now, right doll?” You nod.

“Three years! Right under our noses?”

“When did you get married? Where? How? What?”

Everyone was very confused with the revelation.

“We met during the fallout and well, i started to fall in love with her. She felt the same and we got married in a city hall in New York.” Bucky explained in short terms. You were still in his lap and nodded to everything he said, supporting his statement.

“But, why were we not invited? We were with you the whole time! How did we not know about this?” Sam almost screamed his head off.

“You werent there all the time. Remember the day Steve sent you all to stakeout? He helped me and the doll get to the city hall and we got married. Captain America as our witness.” Bucky chuckled at the last statement, earning a small whack from you on his chest. Steve just rolled his eyes.

“You knew!” Natasha pointed at Steve who shrugged. “It wasn't my story to tell and I just wanted to see my best friend happy. He was happy with her so I stopped them.”

The discussion went on for almost an hour. Your little stifled yawn caught Bucky’s attention and he got up with you in his arms.

“Alright kids, my wife and I are tired and I have plans for our third anniversary tomorrow.”

“Bye.” You wave at them and slump back in his arms.

“Wait! At Least tell us your anniversary date.”

“It's January 1st. It was dead winter and my wife showed me that I can be happy during the cold too.”

He lets the elevator door shut on everyone’s faces. Seeing a sleepy you in his arms was all he could ask for this New Year.

................................

this fic is open for requests

[n30n-l1ghts]

Okay, I need to rant. Fuck AI. And I mean seriously. FUCK. A.I. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but more people need to be talking about this, and there’s no point in me saying that if I’m not willing to talk about it too. AI has done nothing but ruin our communities and defile the art that millions of hands have spent millions of hours creating. Fanfiction is a work of passion. Drawing is a work of passion. Voice acting IS A WORK OF PASSION. AI has no passion. It takes the soul out of the things we love and cherish. It steals what we as a collective community have lovingly crafted, and it shatters it to a thousand pieces, spits on it, curses its family, and throws it in a flaming dumpster to be eaten by rats. It is despicable and disgusting.

I won't lie, or pretend I’m a perfect saint. I myself was a user of Character AI until somewhat recently. And as ashamed as I am to admit that, I feel it’s necessary to own up to my own faults. But after seeing the damage it causes, I can’t in good conscience even consider touching that site. Many of us write because it is our passion. Many of us because it is our job. And many of us because it is our *friend*. AI steals the writing of your favorite creators WITHOUT PERMISSION and mashes it together like Frankenstein’s fucked up monster to create storylines that aren’t even fucking coherent. Not only that, but Character AI uses whatever you respond to it with to teach itself as well, which means that the company has access to whatever you chat about, and free reign to do whatever they want with it. They also make absurd amounts of money from it, which in comparison, fanfiction writers, who spend countless hours writing stories for our favorite characters, more often than not charge nothing. And the ones who do charge, tend to have reasonable, if not highly lenient prices for their labor.

Which leads me into another side rant. SUPPORT WRITERS THAT YOU LIKE. It’s really not that hard, it takes two fucking seconds of your time and it makes someone's day. Reblog. Share with your friends. Like. Comment. Just let the writer know that you saw it, and that you liked it. The amount of fanfic writers I have seen get completely discouraged from writing because of lack of engagement is astounding. I’ve seen several posts on Tumblr or Twitter or Bluesky talking about creators that were incredibly popular but never knew it due to lack of engagement is appalling. If you can rant about your love for their work on Discord, you can rant about your love for their work in the comments. Just fucking copy paste it. Tell them how much you love it. Show them support. Especially the ones that don’t charge. Because for those of us that don’t, our only payment, is your feedback. Even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated by damn near every writer I can think of. Because even that shows that you read it, absorbed it, and thought about it enough to have something to actually say about it.

The same thing goes for artists and voice actors. You see a drawing or animation you enjoy? Comment. Like. Share. You see a character in an anime or a game and you love their voice? Go check out their voice actor, maybe they do some other cool stuff, and you might just discover your new favorite series or streamer. A perfect example is Alejandro Saab. I became a fan of his through his astounding performance in several series dear to me, and lo and behold, he’s also a streamer I enjoy. Same story with Aleks Le, or Ray Chase. Yuri Lowenthal, Lizzie Freeman, Landon Mcdonald, Zeno Robinson, the list goes on. But seriously, it’s not that much effort to just show a little love to the creators you enjoy. The people who breathe life into the series’ that we all hold dear. AI does not breathe that life. Using AI, and supporting those companies, will destroy those pillars of our community. And if that happens, the AI would crumble too, it would have no new information to use. SO really, what’s the benefit? I’ll tell you. There is none.

Stop using AI. All it does is bring harm and slowly kill our community. It’s disgusting, appalling, and downright fucking egregious.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[wyllaztopia]

2025 is coming so i let my friend @kayseeye [new agdt mod and assistant!!] clear agdt's askbox

as devastating as it was to see a bunch of creative remarks and asks go down the drain - let's be real, i won't have time to answer them with how linear the story is becoming for ease of access [goodbye 500 asks... though kacey took screenshots of drawings you guys sent in our inbox!!!]

hooowever, there's also another key reason we had to clear the inbox

[^ satire btw]

very long and convoluted psa/ramble about this matter ahead! but also slightly important and i encourage you to read it if you think about using agdt's inbox as a way to vent or share things about your irl troubles

some people treat the blog's inbox as a venting area

it doesn't really make me uncomfortable, it's just something i prefer not seeing. i don't like sharing or being shared personal information especially from an anon or a stranger

this doesn't go for just agdt - it goes for all blogs you interact with: please don't make yourself vulnerable to a stranger on the internet. you are putting yourself in a dangerous spot.

if you need escapism or help, turn to a professional or someone close - going to a stranger can go horribly wrong in two ways: you make them uncomfortable and subject them to a responsibility they never signed up for, or you let someone use your vulnerabilities and personal information against you.

i can probably count like 100 or so asks of people sharing something overly personal and asking for comfort. i don't hate it, i'm not mad, i'm just worried and i hope the people who send them become aware that they should not send those asks knowing that if they're answered, they could be answered publicly with everyone and their mama being able to see that vulnerable moment in that ask.

"just ignore them, wyll! besides, you didn't have any rules abt yo blog anyway, yo!"

nah, i'd win

can't exactly ignore them when it's been almost a year of young impressionable users over sharing to a stranger who answers asks publicly [along with the fact that i hardly see people talk about this matter when it comes to rp/ask blogs.] also so they don't do this to another askblog that has another impressionable youngin running it and publicizes asks that contain personal life info.

we don't add rules to asks on agdt because we can pick and choose which ones we answer. a set of rules isn't going to stop an asshole from breaking them so i'm not wasting my time trying to enforce one. and that's not what i'm trying to do in this post either. i'm putting this out there because i don't want people making the irrational decision of making their life and weakest moments accessible to people who want to use it against them.

i'm not trying to make a big deal out of this either. i can just skip or delete asks that i know i shouldn't answer or won't be able to. but that's my side of responsibility as someone with a platform. i want to make it clear that the audience that decides to interact with these kinds of blogs should be aware that just because you're behind a screen and concealed by an internet persona, that doesn't mean you're any safer from other people using your vulnerabilities against you.

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bet

Male OC x Tzuyu

Tags: 1k, smut

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Tzuyu was sitting in the deserted communal lounge, her face buried in a book. She wasn’t, technically, hiding. That would have gone against the rules.

She was just getting some alone time without all those hands running aimlessly over her body, fingertips trailing her figure and peering beneath her garments, lips and teeth caressing and nibbling every inch of her skin...

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt scorching hot in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing. She bit her lip and sighed.

The words on the page she had been reading and re-reading for the last ten minutes without really understanding the meaning blurred, as she became engrossed in her thoughts once more, still puzzled as to how she had gotten up in that situation.

A shy, prudish, inexperienced freshman like her was playing with fire. Or worse, with the rampaging hormones of a bunch of college boys.

She made a lighthearted, drunken mistake, but she was paying its price with her body and no end in sight.

Betting with her buddies while inebriated sounded innocuous, and she was confident it wasn’t anything they were going to follow up on anyhow.

But she was wrong - dreadfully wrong.

It was all a game in her eyes. And she was pretty sure she was going to win at the time. But she lost, and the guys eagerly demanded their prize.

She had turned into a real-life sex doll for them: she had to let them touch her body, grab, and grope her as they liked, and offer herself whenever they wanted.

This was her retribution for being so irresponsible and stupid. Worst of all, she was beginning to like it, even though she would never say it out loud.

She had been feeling so dirty and depraved. Tzuyu had only had one previous boyfriend, her high school beau, and she’d never experienced sex or pleasure.

And now, whenever a hand reached for her, a small bolt of electricity would rip through her body, giving her shivers and stealing her breath. Being forcefully exposed in front of others was humiliating, but it gave her sensations she had never expected to feel.

Even though the guilt and shame were eating at her, her body was sending her new signals and feelings that she had never experienced before.

She was drawn sharply back to reality when she was pulled back by her hair.

Electricity coursed through her as she saw two dark eyes upside down, mischievously staring at her.

“Did you plan on staying hidden for much longer? We were worried by your sudden disappearance...” Hyeon inquired, keeping her head tilted and caressing her throat.

His fingertips were ice cold, but her skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“I had to study. You know, exams...” she mumbled, while he played with the sweatshirt zip, loosening it. His hand crept under, reaching for the bra.

Hyeon cupped his hand around her breast and began massaging it. He let her hair go and did the same with the other hand.

“I see,” he said quietly, “then go ahead and read. I’ll help myself.”

Her vision blurred when he gently pinched and twisted her nipples. She was embarrassed by who she had become, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to put a stop to it.

Tzuyu sighed as she felt a twitch in her womb. She closed her eyes and leaned against Hyeon’s body, allowing him easier access to her. Against her neck, she could feel already the bulge in his pants.

She blushed again, both from her thoughts and from his gentle touch on her skin. She could feel she was getting wet.

Hyeon drew his hands away from her sweatshirt after what seemed like an eternity. As he leaned over her, he reached for her skirt. He unceremoniously lifted it, revealing her underwear. He slid the fabric to the side, A light touch on her labia made her moan.

“You’re such a slut Tzuyu, you’re already wet...” he chuckled as he gently stroked her.

He pushed two fingers into her warmth, provoking her another moan. She held her breath and widened her eyes as she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Jisung and Suho were sitting on the desk on both her sides; she hadn’t noticed their presence. They were stroking their erections through their shorts while enjoying the little show.

They laughed as she violently blushed and tried to cover herself. Jisung smiled, bending over to grab her cheeks and kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking her lips.

“Come on baby, stand up,” Hyeon said, pulling his fingers out of her and grabbing her arms.

He pushed her against the desk, ignoring her weak protests and whining. Her hair covered her face completely, blocking her view. She could hear the other two guys unzipping their shorts and the light clank of their belts hitting the ground.

Several hands caressed her skin and lifted her clothes to reveal her body. Someone took her wrists and pressed them against her back.

As fingers grabbed the hem of her undies and pulled them off, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.

A hand caressed and squeezed her buttocks, followed by a slap. As she tried to wiggle out from underneath the guy who was blocking her, she was hit with a harder slap that took her breath away.

“Stop squirming or you’ll hurt yourself,” Jisung said, pulling her head up by her hair. Her gaze met his as she groaned beneath his hands. He kissed her once more, firmly holding her head. While Jisung’s tongue was playing with hers, someone gently rubbed his sex on hers. He pushed his way through her soaked labia and inside. Her moans got lost in Jisung’s mouth, which was still devouring her lips.

The third person let go of her wrists and grabbed one of her hands, pressing it against his erection.

Tzuyu noticed it was Suho masturbating with her hand. She gave in to his grip, wrapping her fingers around his hardness and letting him guide her. Jisung let her mouth and head go, and Hyeon grabbed her by the hair, pushing his length deep into her.

Jisung then kneeled on the desk and presented her with his member, stroking it on her cheek, and lips. She disclosed them and welcomed him, clasping her semi-closed eyes in his as he entered her warm mouth slowly. Hyeon’s tight grip on her head guided her rhythm as her tongue twisted around his girth.

It was the first time they pulled something like that on her, she had never been taken by more than one person at the same time.

Tzuyu thoughts were clouded by pleasure.

With each thrust in her mouth or sex, electricity scurried through her entire body. Her desperate, rising moans were suffocated in her mouth.

Hyeon let go of her hair, which was replaced by Jisung’s grip, and groaning sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She tilted her head, her senses dulled and inebriated, as they both went faster and deeper. Shivers ran down her spine, and a tingling warmth propagated through her like wild, uncontrollable waves.

Hyeon came into her depths and collapsed on her back. His skin was warm and sweaty, his breathing heavy.

Then it was Jisung’s turn, who came into her mouth, pressing her head against his groin while his throbs slowed and he softened, slipping off her lips.

Suho let go of her hand and rushed for her.

He rolled her over, moved her to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself directly above her head.

Then bent over her and plunged his erection into her mouth.

Tzuyu grasped his thighs, overwhelmed, her mind empty of all but bliss.

One of the guys parted her legs and buried his face in her, holding on to her knees.

Two hands completely unzipped her sweatshirt and reached for her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She was totally helpless, which really just heightened her arousal. Her body was stiffening and twitching as tension built up within her.

The guy eating her, bit her labia, ascending to the clit, then circled it with his tongue, first gently caressing it, then with frantic strokes that left her screaming and squirming under his mouth. He firmly gripped her thighs, lapping and sucking her and pushing her over the edge.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he slid two fingers into her, moving them slowly.

Her orgasm burst violently, her back arched, and every inch of her body shivered, pervaded by a tickling ecstasy that released her tension.

Suho came soon after, filling her mouth once again.

She stopped shaking after a good minute or two. She could feel her heart rate lowering, but she kept her eyes closed.

She was feeling warm and fuzzy. She didn’t want to face yet the actuality of what had just occurred.

The three guys were busy pulling up their pants and composing themselves.

to meet the three pleased stares. Tzuyu quickly shut her legs and tried to put back her hoodie, embarrassed.

Jisung seized her hands and held her back.

“Don’t bother covering, cutie; no one else is here. Even if that were the case, anyone would have adored the show.” He reached for her mouth and kissed her.

“When is this prize thing going to end?” she sighed, as she sat on the desk.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Suho joked as he buckled his belt. “ You seemed to be having a good time two minutes ago.”

She blushed again, looking away.

“It will end when we unanimously decide that the payback for the lost bet is adequate, obviously. And I’m sure tonight at least a couple of gentlemen will be interested in discussing with you what just happened, so don’t go and hide again,” Hyeon added.

He gave her a wry grin and a nonchalant nod before heading out of the room, followed by Jisung and Suho.

Tzuyu was alone again.

The sun had begun to set, and the communal lounge was getting darker.

She retrieved her underwear and put it on.

Her mind was a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. She was heated and out of breath. She couldn’t understand why she would enjoy the whole bet and prize thing; it was so wicked and dirty. It wasn’t like her, to do things like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it.

Tzuyu knew she could demand they stop at any point, and if they refused, she could simply go talk to the student representative. They’d be in big trouble.

But perhaps she just didn’t want it to stop.

She sat at the desk, her head buried in the soft sleeves, until it was completely dark, with just the streetlamps from outside shedding some light on the walls through the large windows.

She took a deep breath and smiled, wondering who would be the first to take her that evening.

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Point of View: the Biggest Thing You're Missing!

Point of view is one of the most important elements of narrative fiction, especially in our modern writing climate, but you rarely hear it seriously discussed unless you go to school for writing; rarely do help blogs or channels hit on it, and when they do, it's never as in-depth as it should be. This is my intro to POV: what you're probably missing out on right now and why it matters. There are three essential parts of POV that we'll discuss.

Person: This is the easiest part to understand and the part you probably know already. You can write in first person (I/me), second (You), and third person (He/she/they). You might hear people talk about how first person brings the reader closer to the central character, and third person keeps them further away, but this isn't true (and will be talked about in the third part of this post!) You can keep the reader at an intimate or alien distance to a character regardless of which person you write in. The only difference--and this is arguable--is that first person necessitates this intimacy where third person doesn't, but you still can create this intimacy in third person just as easily. In general, third person was the dominant (and really the only) tense until the late 19th century, and first person grew in popularity with the advent of modernism, and nowadays, many children's/YA/NA books are written in first person (though this of course doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't write those genres in the third person). Second person is the bastard child. Don't touch it, even if you think you're clever, for anything the length of a novel. Shorter experimental pieces can use it well, but for anything long, its sounds more like a gimmick than a genuine stylistic choice.

Viewpoint Character: This is a simple idea that's difficult in practice. Ask yourself who is telling your story. This is typically the main character, but it needn't be. Books like The Book Thief, The Great Gatsby, Rebecca, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Sherlock series are told from the perspective of a side character who isn't of chief importance to the narrative. Your viewpoint character is this side character, the character the reader is seeing the world through, so the main character has to be described through them. This isn't a super popular narrative choice because authors usually like to write from the perspective of their most interesting character, but if you think this choice could fit your story, go for it! You can also swap viewpoint characters throughout a story! A word of warning on that: only change your viewpoint character during a scene/chapter break. Switching mid-scene without alerting the reader (and even when you do alert the reader) will cause confusion. I guarantee it.

Means of Perception; or, the Camera: This part ties the first two together. If you've ever heard people talk about an omniscient, limited, etc. narrator, this is what they mean. This part also includes the level of intimacy the reader has with the viewpoint character: are we in their heads, reading their thoughts, or are we so far away that we can only see their actions? If your story is in a limited means of perception, you only have access to your character's head, eyes, and interpretations, where an omniscient narrator sees through all characters' heads at once. (This doesn't eliminate the viewpoint character--most of your writing will still be in that character's head, but you're allowed to reach into other characters' thoughts when needed. You could also be Virginia Woolf, who does fluidly move through everyone's perspectives without a solid viewpoint character, but I would advise against this unless you really are a master of the craft.) Older novels skew towards third person omniscient narration, where contemporary novels skew towards first person limited. You also have a spectrum of "distant" and "close." If omniscient and limited are a spectrum of where the camera can swivel to, distant and close is a spectrum of how much the camera can zoom in and out. Distant only has access to the physical realities of the world and can come off as cold, and close accesses your character's (or characters', if omniscient) thoughts. Notice how I said narration. Your means of perception dramatically effects how your story can be told! Here's a scene from one of my stories rewritten in third-person distant omniscient. The scene is a high school football game:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” She shivered; the wind blew in. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, stuttered there, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” She met his eyes, which he pulled away. “You don’t mean that," Piper said. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” The cloth of Carmen's uniform caved and expanded under Piper's fingers.

With distant-omniscient, we only get the bare actions of the scene: the wind blows in, Piper shivers, the cloth rises and falls, Carmen points, etc. But you can tell there's some emotional and romantic tension in the scene, so let's highlight that with a first person limited close POV:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” Frost spread up from her legs and filled her as if she were perforated rock, froze and expanded against herself so that any motion would disturb a world far greater than her, would drop needles through the mind’s fabric. A misplaced word would shatter her, shatter him. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, thought better, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” “You don’t mean that.” She spoke like a jaded mother, spoke with some level of implied authority, and reminded herself again to stop. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” Piper felt the cloth of his waist cave and expand under her fingers and thought: is this not confidence?

Here, we get into Piper's thoughts and physical sensations: how the frost rises up her, and how this sensation of cold is really her body expressing her nervous fears; how she "thought better" and put her arm around his waist; her thought "is this not confidence?"; and how she reminds herself not to talk like a mother. Since I was writing from the close, limited perspective of a nervous high schooler, I wrote like one. If I was writing from the same perspective but with a child or an older person, I would write like them. If you're writing from those perspectives in distant narration, however, you don't need to write with those tones but with the authorial tone of "the narrator."

This is a lot of info, so let's synthesize this into easy bullet points to remember.

Limited vs. Omniscient. Are you stuck to one character's perspective per scene or many?

Close vs. Distant. Can you read your characters' thoughts or only their external worlds? Remember: if you can read your character's thoughts, you also need to write like you are that character experiencing the story. If child, write like child; if teen, write like teen; etc.

Here's another way to look at it!

This is a confusing and complex topics, so if you have any questions, hit up my ask box, and I'll answer as best I can. The long and short of it is to understand which POV you're writing from and to ruthlessly stick to it. If you're writing in limited close, under no circumstances should you describe how a character other than your viewpoint character is feeling. Maintaining a solid POV is necessary to keeping the dream in the reader's head. Don't make them stumble by tripping up on POV!

[nuumbie]

Trust Fall

Prompt: An elite member of the organization Fractsidius… Scar appears before you in order to explain his beliefs… so you may understand all you have to gain by joining forces and hands and to change the world with them all.

You’re weirdly open to the idea.

Author’s Note: Crack Territory. Surprisingly Wholesome? As wholesome as a Scar Fic can be. He’s a weirdo. This is the kindest fic I currently have. Technically, can be read platonic or romantic adjacent... ( He is flirting with you. You don’t exactly return it. ) Please send me Scar Fics. Otherwise I’ll need to make them all myself. Carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The face of the legendary resonator, his fellow black sheep, his fellow revolutionary in the new world if they had merely opened their heart enough to let them all inside. Well, you could have worn a more dynamic expression. You eyebrows are knit together, their mouth is curved into a frown. In all honesty? A little underwhelming of a reaction especially considering he's sent their little friend. ( A girl. You’re surrounded by girls! It's scary how every time he blinks it's like another one surrounds you. You're too popular! ) Where was he?

Oh, right.

He sent them to The Shadow Realm. Not like he actually hurt her! Well, he could have! To be honest a part of him wished to. Already planting ideas into your head. Getting you on their side. But he chose not to. First Impressions matter a lot. He even wore his nice pair of pants instead of the easy access ones he usually wears just for this moment. The others all gave him all this time so he even had a moment alone! With you. So of course it had to be special! Even though he was sure you'd share many moments. Just like this. "Well, well, well... we finally meet."

"You're... Scar, right?" It's such a coincidence she bought up his name! You don't know a thing. But everything falls into place so you're exactly where you need to be-- you truly are lucky. While Scar? Well, the fact you already know of his name means you know of all the foul, horrible, nicknames she's called him. An already dirty image in your head with his name attached. "Where did you put her?"

You have your hand on your sword. Pointed directly at his neck. He goes to tap it to the side. Away from his face. He already has plenty of stories for how he got all of these scars. Well, maybe he can get another. One specially made by you. Permanent proof of you.

Not bad at all. He casually goes to play with the sword in your hands, putting it back where you planned on threatening him and he leans just close enough so that if you wished you could drive it into his skull. Like a trust-fall! A trust-exercise between you both to see if you'd behave or try to crack him open like an egg. Smiling through the gap between you and the steel edge of your blade. "She's irrelevant. If she were here. She'd add a lot of meaningless dialogue. Right now I wish for your full, undivided, attention."

"Allow me to share with you my side of the story."

He raises his neck for your eyes. It isn't like he covers it up. But it's rare for him to brandish this mark so callously for others. It’s for you! It’s special for you. "I've been watching over you... to think you've forgotten everything."

"They're all fighting for you." He looks through his fingers-- undeniably you're you. Your confused expression gazes back at him. He winks at it. You squint your eyes even harder. He takes it as a win. ( He’s gained lots and lots of personal multiple little wins while watching you. ) "Wishing to use you and drain you of all of your worth. Despite being a human person, they've used you the moment they found you had an inch of worth. While we are no different..."

"We wished to be honest with you." He smiles as he steps closer. He notices how your hold on the blade tightens. You hold it still. It does not stutter or tremble. He leans in close enough that the outline of his neck is at the knife of the blade. "To allow you to understand us. We've been granted precious alone time. I'm here to show you we are not the villains...—“

He expected that if you did fight back. You'd hit him with your blade. Then he'd know to go to the next phase of the plan -- i.e. beat you up. Show you why they’re stronger. So the human, more basal part of you, would understand why not to resist and prove their worth through overtaking you. Offer to join the winning side.

It seems that's not what you're going to do.

"Let me stop you there." You step back and sheathe your blade. You've been exceptionally quiet. Mouth closed in a thin line. Eyebrows furrowed. Handsome. Beautiful. An odd mix of both words.. As he watched over you-- the most you said had to do with what that red-headed girl ( Chia? Chilichuck? What was her name? God. He basically ignored every word of theirs besides your dialogues.. your friends really did talk a lot.. The red-headed one with the gun especially annoyed him. ) And food. This is by all means a pleasant surprise. "Does everyone in this god-forsaken world speak in riddles?"

"Oh, but we have so much time! To explain it all would be no fun. It'd ruin the game." He widens his arms and shrugs his shoulders, showcasing the sight of the destruction behind him. "Besides, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. Would you? You have to come to conclusions on your own for them to matter. It's just me and you. No need to rush. Just trust the process."

You laugh at that for some reason. Scar clocks it. But, the fact you stop glaring seems like a good sign. Your smile is nice. So it does have the ability to be his way. Though, it appears you're laughing at him. He cherishes his victories however small and frames it on his mind-wall. "A town on the brink of destruction... if it wasn't us... how did it fall? A story of false devotion, fleeting kindness, senseless killings and the worst humanity has to offer... of course... there is only one truth. But history can take many different meanings dependent on the person. This is a world filled with oppressors and victims and..."

"That's not what I mean." Hm? Hmm? Hmmm...? "You're playing around. You wish to show me how sick this world is. You wish to understand how I'm being manipulated... that was your point from earlier... right? Stick with that. Are you trying to get me on your side or what? I'm tired of being dragged around."

Scar... has to take a moment... to process your words. Not really expecting... that. "Oh...? So you are listening! I’m glad! Well... inevitably. Yes, that is the point I wished to make. You and I are the same you see... both of us are outcasts... a story of a shepherd, it’s flock, and a black sheep—“ he does have a point to make, he thought really hard about the symbolism before coming here so it was easy to digest and everything.

"I'll join you." You hold out your hand towards his. "Scar, that's your name right? I'll join you right now. I'm not in the mood to play any more mind-games. If I join you. You don’t have reason to not tell me, right? You promised.”

Scar's world lights up.

He stares at your hand. It’s the one with your resonator mark no less— offered out to him. A sign of trust. An offer of companionship. You wiggle your fingers and ahem rather loudly. He immediately takes your hand with both of his own. Maybe a bit too frantically. Maybe a touch too desperately. The closeness is surprising to even him.

He studies your hand. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone’s offered their to his. And you did so unprompted. He feels the weight of your hand in his own. And he almost forgets what he’s here for—

"..." "Seriously?"

"Why are you acting surprised? Why did you even bother to meet me here if you weren't even open to the possibility of me joining you? Was it to sow the seeds? Slow-burn me? I'm not nearly as patient as you all seem to think I am." You cross your arms and huff. "Are you suddenly questioning whether or not I'm the resonator you're looking for? You're right. I don't remember anything. I'm not the hero anyone expects me to be. I'm not what you want from me either." “I want you to prove yourselves to me. You said you’re the ones in the right… that the others are just trying to use me.” You linger on those words. “If that’s true… well… you’re clearly suspicious, mentally deranged, to be honest I was tempted to hit you really bad just now... but... I don't exactly doubt your words. Every single person I've met has been..."

"Reliant on me." You gaze at the mark on the back of your wrist. "This is an equation of my worth. I can't disagree. No matter how hard I try to. That in itself is proof you have a point. So… it’s an avenue worth exploring.”

"..." "....." "Aha... ahahahaa... ahaaa... seriously?!" Scar doesn’t remember to use his indoor voice. He remembers after you jump a little. Doing his best to whisper. "Wait, no, that's bad. Oh, I'm so sorry... I was right... they... did use you as a pawn... and they made it so obvious… That you immediately..."

"You chose me." Scar is giddy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling even if he wanted to. Each word. He falls a little deeper. "You weren't even forced into a corner. I didn't even have to make you do it.”

“You’re already understanding of how alone we are in this world…!”

"You're not really different from them. You just admit to it." You sigh. "You're worse in a way. I'd doubt they'd force me to help them."

You're insulting him but he's still on cloud nine-- you're joining them aren’t you? Purposefully reaching in to touch the filth you apparently so despise! Ah, they're hardly ready! They'd thought this take much longer... it's true. He doubted you would believe him. Believe any of them. Maybe the villainous appearance and rumors of sociopathy, psychopathy, and all of that doesn't quite help.

Whoopsies. ( He isn't very sorry. You chose him regardless and you would have anyway because he knows at the end of the road you would’ve realized the hopelessness and that you had no choice and all. But you chose him over them and saw through their deceit. Him. Him. Him. He’s the one who got you to change your mind— ) He really can’t find it in himself to care about how menacing he seems. His smile’s just too hard to wipe off…

"I want to understand the world you're fighting for." You sigh. "You see yourself in me, right? You were projecting pretty hard on me earlier... So the world you're trying to make..."

"It's a world which is better for me. And... I can't help but to wonder if you're not wholly in the wrong." You rub your wrist. Like the mark of skin burns. "I want to see.. how worse it gets... I want to see what you've seen. I'm just opening myself for understanding. Isn't that what you wanted? An open, honest, discussion.”

"You do have purpose behind the evil, right? I'm not going to join and you make me blow up an orphanage or something… you're morally-grey bad at worst." You pause to consider. "I don't really have a point of reference for the terrible things you've done actually. Maybe we can put this on hold until I get one-"

"No, no, no! Noooo orphanages! We're not monsters." Scar pouts. "You'll see, okay? I’m going to show you all the horrors! Then you’ll get it. We’re ultimately in the right.”

“You knocked out Yangyang.” You sigh. Detached. But the sentiment behind the words is there.

"So they did get you to care." Scar hums. "Shed your worries. Such useless feelings do little good... she'll be fine... see? We are willing to reason! This whole talk was to prove we can communicate. She wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t even look at me. She’d keep us apart and spread her little lies.”

Okay, maybe he’s a bit jealous. Why was she so exceptionally close to you? He doesn’t even mind the gossip. Everyone talks to him like that. Looks at him in that way without ever understanding.

He’s the one who should have been offering free dinners, doing small little romanticisms, giving you small yearning gestures with you, not her. And he will from this point onward! And he will be the one to do it. Even if he has to pry you from the others…

( Seriously, why are you so popular? It just isn’t fair! He’s going to be fighting for crumbs when he brings you back to the base. He just can’t win. )

“If I shed all my worries then won’t I just be the same as any other sheep? It’s the wool that makes them look different.” You sigh while rubbing your arm. “What even is that metaphor about…?”

“Oh. I did use that metaphor, didn’t I? Yes, with fur so black! It was obvious against the rest of the flock… for black sheep are the outsiders! Those who go against the grain—“ Scar responds dumbly. Rambling, because he really is so happy! He's got you right where he wants you! You're not struggling, nor running away, you've walked right into his arms! And he didn’t plan this far at all. So, his mind’s a bit fumbled. This is the best first date likely in the history of ever. Though, he notices your unimpressed look. Thus, he straightens his back and smiles as gentlemanly he can muster pounding his fist against his own chest considering you’ve made it a point that you hate long-talk. “— anyway, yes, shepherd evil, white sheep stupid, black sheep good.“

He looks at you to see how well you’ve taken his shortened explanation. You use your other hand to facepalm. ( He hasn’t let go of your arm. He realizes. You haven’t pulled your arm back. This sparks joy. This sparks incredible joy. He holds it even tighter. And you don’t even struggle. )

“I should have done the puzzle first. Lacking lots of subtext.” Is what you put together from his explanation. “Just explain on the way. Come on. I’ll lose brain cells if I’m here for any longer.”

Right.

He’s taking you home. You’re still not gone. You’re here with him.

You’re with him.

"Ahaha.” he rambles, graining traction as his grin grows more manic, he can feel his skin getting hotter, the urge to hold you tightly within his hands and explain growing stronger with each passing moment, every second, every millisecond. It’s a feeling you wish to feel forever. “You want to listen to me.”

And he will feel it forever. He’ll make it so. He doesn’t have to wait any longer.

"There’s so much to tell you. About this world.” he cackles, loudly, his voice crackling throughout the air with a reinvigorated passion as he leans close to your ear to whisper with as much love as his dried up little heart has. Putting it all for you. “And I’ll tell you about all of it.”

"Okay. I seriously don’t know how the hell you expected me to trust you." You whisper. Tired? Yes. Terribly so. You so hope Yangyang can't hear him. From wherever he's put her. Shadow Realm or whatever. "You’re making me regret this already—“

"NO!" he rushes forward and leap-hugs you. "Noooo take-backs. You already said it! So you can’t take it back. That’s how it works. When you say it. It’s forever.”

“That’s not how it works-“

"You're all mine, forever.”

"Agh-- hey!" You yelp... a touch high-pitched. He squeezes you tightly and you see the flash of smoke-- Yangyang's passed out body on the ground. You shut your eyes, awkwardly looking away. You’ll know she’ll be saved soon. “I’m coming. I’m coming, okay?”

Perhaps you're even better than his wildest dreams. Well, he'd love you as much regardless. Whether or not you came now or later. This is a drastic changes of plans. But a pleasant one.

His cards fly through the air and they capture you both-- you hold onto him. His laugher resonating loudly, a wicked sound which is proof of the choice you’ve made. A choice you’ve made which you certainly can’t entirely turn back from no matter how hard you try to reverse you’re being taken along.

More like dragged. He’s holding your hand like you’ll run if you don’t. ( He’s not exactly wrong. ) You just awkwardly hold back. Unaware you don’t even need to be touching him to get warp-jumped.

He doesn’t exactly tell you either or warn you or do anything to stop you. Instead encouraging it by opening his arms out so you can hold on properly.

As you’re flashed away through a red door… the person you’ve decided to trust manically laughing as you phase through that door. “There’s so much… to tell you! Well let’s start at the very beginning…!”

No matter where you are you’re susceptible to lore dumps. At least he’s excited about it. You wonder how long he’s been holding this in.

You close your eyes tight and just hold on tight as you embrace your new life.

Again.

[writeroutoftime]

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind. 

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind. 

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble. 

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately." 

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master. 

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn. 

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?" 

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure. 

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin. 

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend. 

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump. 

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.  

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before." 

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare. 

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group. 

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love." 

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel." 

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in. 

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"  

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days. 

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room. 

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss." 

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death. 

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games. 

"What?" 

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence. 

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you." 

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation. 

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us." 

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him? 

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love." 

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment. 

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting." 

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?" 

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out." 

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back. 

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected. 

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside." 

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded. 

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life. 

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes. 

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came. 

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss." 

Again, no response. 

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses. 

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up. 

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room. 

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand. 

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel. 

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled. 

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you." 

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe. 

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research." 

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words. 

"Y-you heard all that?" 

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes. 

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate." 

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. 

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family. 

"It worked!" 

"You're awake." 

"The two of you are mates?!" 

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after. 

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

[crios31]

Chapter 2: Traveling to Japan

Story building and smut (Cunnilingus, cowgirl, creampie, doggy style)

Lenght 2700 words

You are at the airport and it’s finally time to board your plane to Japan with Wendy for a new chapter of your life.

“Take care of each other over there.” Says your mother, hugging both of you. “Ah, I almost forgot, it’s the file concerning the scholarship program plus some other things that I deemed useful.” She releases her hug before giving you the files which you put in your backpack. “Thanks mom.”

“Say hello to everyone on our behalf.” asks your father when it’s his turn to hug you.

Your goodbyes now done, you board the plane , waving one last time to your parents on the way. Inside the plane, you both go to your place in first class and  follow the instructions of the crew before the take-off.

An hour later, the plane is now at cruising altitude so you decide to read the file your mother gave. On the seat beside you, Wendy is reading a book.

The first part of the file is about the public information that you mostly know. That the program is for girls that show aptitude academically or athletically and it was created by your Mother after she opened her first school. Scholarship recipients are accepted in all your Mother’s school or can in another school if they don’t want to move, in both cases all of their living expenses are taken care of. The rules they had to follow are simple, maintaining good results and good behavior. 

The second part is about the non-public information. To start, the real way to enter the program is that your mother chose them, the academic or athletic potential being one more reason. By entering the program, there is more than just living expenses that are taken care of, more financial support could be given like paying a family debt. Other specific issues can also be resolved. Another benefit is the possibility to have access to private tutoring to skip grades in order to graduate earlier. In exchange for all of that, one more rule exists, they are not allowed to date.

Regarding the selection of those that will work for you, most of them cannot refuse it. Wendy was one of the exceptions. For the selection process of the applicants it is a strict one, a minimum age requirement of eighteen moreover the appearance and personality are taken into account for the decision. Those that fall short will be recommended to other employers, also a possibility is to become a standard employee in one of your ventures because of their skills. In those two cases they will become exempt from the rules of the program after graduation. In exchange they will only be asked to recruit people that could enter the program. This part also contains detailed data about the cost of the program, the number of recipients and so on.

Finally, the last part of the file begins with a note explaining that the goal of the program and the selection is for you to have people you can trust at your side and that you’ll slowly take responsibility in the program. After this section of the note you read “Grandkids?” followed by a winking smiley, both seemed to have been handwritten by your mother. This addition from her makes you laugh. The end of the note informed that the documents following it are profiles of girls she deemed ready for selection.

From your first look, there are around twenty candidates' profiles and all of them are older than you. You take your time studying each of them, taking notes. You also ask Wendy to look at each of the profiles after you’re done with it.

Later during the flight, you have just finished sorting out the profiles with Wendy in order to select a first batch of girls that will work for you.

“We are down to three sir, two of them are studying in the University that you will join, while the last one is studying in another one, in Seoul. How do you want to proceed?”

“For the one in the other University, just give her the news and explain to her that she can focus on University for now. For the others, we'll contact them to set up a meeting, starting with this one.” You give a specific profile to Wendy.

“Kim Minji? Understood, I'll arrange that during our stay in Japan.”

A few hours after the plane landed at Narita Airport, you have settled in at your hotel. Sitting in the hotel’s restaurants you are savoring with Wendy some Kobe’s beef. Finishing your plate, you look on your left, through the window at Tokyo’s nighttime view.

“So delicious I really wanted to taste this if I ever had the opportunity to come to Japan.”

“I’ll make sure you can try as many specialties as you can during our stay.”

“So many things come to my mind!”

As you talk, the waiter takes your empty dishes and quickly comes back with the dessert.

“Oh it’s so good too, I’ll try to do one later.”

You smile looking at the baking fanatic. “Do you want to try mine?” You push your plate toward her.

“Yes, thanks.” She quickly takes a big spoonful of your dessert. “It’s delicious too.”

“You can finish it”

“Really? Are you full?” She asks her spoon hovering above the dessert.

“Not really but I will eat another dessert in our room tonight.” You answer, looking at her in the eyes.

She raises an eyebrow at your answer before focusing back on the sweet treat in front of her. When she finishes it, you pay for the meal complimenting the service and the food to the waiter, then you exit the restaurant.

In the elevator, you take a look at Wendy, in particular her miniskirt and you can’t stop yourself from touching her butt.

“Sir?” She turns her head toward you in surprise. Two floors later, the elevator stops for other people to enter, in reaction, Wendy immediately shoves your hand away from her. You wait for them to turn their backs to you before once again grabbing her behind, but this time your hand is under her skirt. Her body becomes tense and you smile mischievously at her when your eyes cross hers. You continue to fondle her ass, sometimes brushing your middle finger against her pussy, as the elevator goes up you can feel her slowly becoming wet. 

When you arrive at your floor, you reluctantly stop. Wendy quickly passes the opened door of the elevator and you follow suit, after entering your room she sits on the bed looking at you.

“Couldn’t you wait for us to be in the room to do that?” 

“No, your cute little butt was too tempting.” You walk toward the bed, stopping in front of Wendy, you lean forward putting your hands on her tights. “And it was fun watching you get all flustered.” You give her a quick peck.

“Fun for you.”  She complains in a low voice feeling your hands behind her knees.

“Now let’s have some fun, shall we?” You suddenly lift her legs causing her to yelp as she loses her balance, her upper body falling on the mattress. You grab her panties and take it off from her body. Placing your hands on the back of her thighs, you spread them.

You get on your knees as you begin kissing her legs, starting from her calves,  slowly making your way up her leg. She feels the touch of your lips approaching her pussy, you alternate from one leg to the other. Wendy's growing excitement makes her breathing quicker as she bites her bottom lip. 

Finally arriving at your destination, you take a look at her glistening folds. You lick her lower lips before inserting your tongue inside her. As you explore her pussy your jaw gets wet from her nectar.

“Fuck… that’s feel good.” She gasps, putting one hand on your head when you replace your tongue with your finger in order to tease her small bud with your mouth. You hook your finger toward the roof of her pussy. Her angelic voice gets louder and her walls get tighter as you continue with your task.

“I’m getting close.” Hearing this, you put a second finger in her and intensify your tongue’s work.

You feel her grip in your hair tightening and the heels of her shoes burying in your back, causing you some pain. But soon enough her hips rise from the bed taking support on you with her legs and the mattress for her upper body. From her mouth comes a scream of pleasure as she orgasms.

Her body relaxes, freeing you from her legs. You stand up and look at Wendy who is still feeling the aftermath of her climax. You take off your shirt her wipe your face of her slicks

“Do you want me to return the favor?” Wendy asks in a soft voice.

“Maybe another time, for now I want to be in you.” You get naked finally freeing your member, climbing on the bed, you give a long kiss to your partner.

“Then let me be on top.” She says as you let her push you to lay on your back. Wendy takes off her shoes then standing up, she unzips her skirt while looking at you. As the garment fell at her feet she smiles feeling your gaze on her exposed lower body. She places herself above you, taking a hold of your cock to align it with her entrance.

“Damn feels good.” You say watching your length disappear in Wendy when she lowers body.

“You’re stretching me so much.”She began to ride you, taking support on your chest. At first, she starts slowly before gradually increasing her pace.

On your side you're not inactive, taking hold of her waist to help her before sliding a hand under her top. You feel her abs as she drops on you, moving your hand higher,  you take hold of one of her boobs over her bra. Her breast in your grasp, you start kneading it.

Locking eyes with Wendy you feel the grip of her walls around your member getting stronger, in response you raise your hips meeting halfway when she drops on you.

“Sir... Shit! I’m coming.” She stops moving her body tensing up as she cums, her walls clamping around your cock.

“I’m close too.” Using both your hands you lift her body before bringing her down, each time hitting her cervix. Soon enough, you discharge a big load inside her. 

Following your release Wendy falls on you, her head resting on your chest and you both take some time to catch your breath. You feel yourself getting soft in her as you put your arms around her. 

“Let’s get something to drink.” You say giving a light smack on her butt before releasing the hug.

“I’m so full, good thing that I take birth control or I would end up pregnant before long.” Says Wendy as she gets off from you with your semen leaking from her slit.

“Yeah, it’s too early for a kid.” You follow Wendy, taking the glass of water she hands you. While you clench your thirst she takes off her top and bra. You look at her nude body moving to the front of the window.

“I dreamed about visiting new countries and right now I can enjoy this beautiful view.” She says watching the city’s light. “And in addition to that I get to travel with a handsome man.” Turning her head she gives you a wide smile.

“Well now that I know this information, I’ll have you accompany me every time I travel abroad.”

“That would be nice.” She responds with a chuckle. “I heard good things about you before but I didn’t expect you to treat me so well until now. I hope it’ll stay like that”

“Well, you are someone fun to be with,plus you are also a smart and attractive woman. So, I see no reason to change it.” While talking you approach her, taking her into your embrace.

“Thanks.” She whispers, as she puts her hands on top of yours. Both of you stay silent observing the outside but at one point Wendy feels your cock hardening against her butt. “Someone wants more.”

“Always, and I don’t think I’m the only one with how you're grinding your butt against me.”

“You caught me.” She bends over leaning on the window.

You slightly bend your knees to align your cock with her pussy, putting your tip against it. “Hope you’re ready because I won’t stop until the end.” Taking a firm hold of her hips, you thrust all your length inside her in one go.

“Ahhh! Fuck so deep!” As she takes your onslaught, Wendy has to tiptoed and progressively gets her body closer to the window. Soon enough she finds herself with her upper body stuck against the glass. Under your thrust against the entrance of her womb, her pussy begins to twitch as she orgasms.

As you warn her before you continue to fuck her hard throughout her climax as you are far from yours. Following this, she cums again at least twice, hence her eyes are now rolled back, her mouth is open with only moans coming out of it. Furthermore, the only reason why she is still standing is you.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Anywhere, just cum.. it’s too much.” She barely answered between moans.

Following her words, you quickly make a decision as you are reaching your limit. You take out your cock of her snatch, placing it between her asscheeks. Giving a few thrusts to finish yourself, you then release streams of semen across her back.

You release your hold on Wendy’s waist. Without any strength left in her legs, she falls on the floor, resting her upper body against the window.

You take a few steps back, relishing the sight in front of you with the city and Tokyo’s Tower as background. Through the fog on the glass caused by your frolicking, the city’s lights are partially illuminating Wendy’s naked body and her cum covered back

“I agree with your earlier comment, this is a great view.” You immortalize this scene with a photo.

During the following days, you both explored the streets of Tokyo. Visiting the traditional district of Asakusa with its Sanctuary and the National Museum of Tokyo. Other places you get to see were, the Kokyo Gaien National Garden where you both enjoyed the peace and quiet before having a tour in the Imperial Palace of Tokyo which is beside it. Along the way, you also tried a lot of different kinds of food.

At the end of your stay in Tokyo, you take the Shinkansen to Osaka. After arriving and dropping your luggage at the hotel, you take a taxi, remembering some memories linked to this city during the ride. 

The taxi stops in front of a two storey house, after paying the driver you ring the doorbell. A few moments later, a man who looks to be in his early forties gets out of the house, opening the gate to Wendy and you.

“Ah, good to see you kid.” says the man in Japanese

“Good to see you too, Uncle. Here is a gift for receiving us.”

“Thank you, oh nice wine, I think I drank some in the past, with your father. By the way, who is this young lady?”

“This is Wendy. Wendy, this is uncle Kosaku” You make the presentation as Wendy doesn't speak Japanese and your uncle, while he can somewhat understand Korean he is not fluent in It.

“Let’s get inside, the other should be waiting for you.” You both followed him inside the house. Immediately after taking off your shoes, your hear footsteps quickly approaching you. You only have the time to raise your head before someone hugs you.

“I’m so happy you’re here! I missed you so much!” says the owner of the feminine voice, hugging you.

“I missed you too, Sana.” You say, returning the hug.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her. 

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before. 

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human. 

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere. 

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s. 

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response. 

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought. 

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more. 

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

 All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove. 

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

~

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records. 

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion. 

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise. 

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks. 

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | meddle about (smut blurb)

a/n: MDNI y'all know the drill! no tags for this one. set after now you got me. can be read alone (only thing you need to know is that luke is in a band and calls reader 'five star') or as part of the poisoned mercury series!

song: meddle about by chase atlantic

luke finally let you listen to the song the boys wrote for him. the song was incredible, which was expected, but you relentlessly teased him after connor told you the story about how the song came to be.

“you didn’t know if we were anything?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. luke was brushing his teeth in your bathroom, toothpaste dribbling out the corner of his lips. your face was pressed against his bicep, as you watched his reaction in the mirror. “come on, castellan. i was obvious!” 

luke shook his head, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink as he tangled his fingers with the hand you had wrapped around his torso, “you were not, thank you very much.” 

“aren’t you supposed to know when a girl is flirting with you, mr. rockstar?” 

“you damn near bullied me for months, five star. humbled me every chance you got. you call that flirting?” 

“was i supposed to swoon and tell you how hot you were?” 

“ideally, yes,” he rinsed his mouth with water before turning his body to face you. he held your hips over the t-shirt you wore. it was his shirt and luke was dangerously close to leaving his entire closet with you just so he could see you wear his clothes forever. “would’ve sped up the process of us getting together.” 

“i like the slow burn,” you mumbled, pressing your lips against his own. luke’s grip on your waist tightened as he pressed your back against the counter. his lips were always so soft and he tasted like the spearmint toothpaste you owned. he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, and the innocent kiss became heated. 

luke pulled away for a second, “you gave me like emotional blue balls, five star. i was down bad.” 

“was?” 

“shut up,” he rolled his eyes, smiling. he pressed kisses against your neck, hand traveling under the hem of his shirt. his touch made you shiver. “y’know i’m still down bad for you.” 

you craned your neck, giving him more access to your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, sighing when you made those pretty noises that had him weak in the knees. you lifted yourself up on the counter, opening your legs to let luke slot himself between them. he continued to leave kisses on your skin, slowly pulling down the neckline of your shirt to explore more. 

you tugged on his curls, making him look up at you, “how bad?” 

luke licked his lips, “want me to show you?”

you nodded, running your hands down his chest. your fingers traced the black ink on the side of his torso, making him shiver against your body. his hardening cock was pressing against your inner thigh. luke pushed his groin against yours, trying to convey just how badly you had him wrapped around your finger. just a few words and a few kisses and he was putty in your hands.

"you feel me?" he sighed, closing his eyes as he buried his head in your hair. his senses were filled with you and he felt like he was drunk. you were so intoxicating. your skin smelled like him now since he was always pressed against you in some way. he needed to be near you all the time or he was going to go crazy.

your time in camp half blood was quickly coming to an end, much to luke's dismay, and he was going to make the most out of the few weeks he had left with you. he thinks his first few weeks without you will have him locking himself in hotel rooms fucking his fist to the sound of your voice on facetime and it kills him that he won't get the real thing until god knows when, but he doesn't want to think about that right now.

not while you were still here in front of him with your legs open wide just for him.

"is that enough to show you?" luke asked, sucking on your pulse point. he felt his heart hammering in his chest when you let out a breathy whine. all his blood rushed down to his cock, and soon it was becoming painfully difficult for him to keep his composure.

"no," you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. your lips moved roughly against each others, tongues tangled in a passionate display of affection as his hands massaged the side of your thighs. you were panting against his mouth, already breathless, "need to be convinced some more."

"careful, five star," he tsked, hand traveling to your clothed pussy. he rubbed your clit through the fabric, silently cursing when he felt your slick dampen the pads of his fingers, "i don't think you understand what you're wishing for."

"need you, luke," you mumbled, palming him through his boxers. he groaned at your hand gripping the base of his hard cock. "need all of you."

"you have a filthy mouth, you know that?" his eyes were blown wide with desire. he placed a thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down a tiny bit. you sucked on his thumb, staring up at him in a way that had his head spinning. you looked so sinful. it was almost sacrilegious how the girl he worshipped was begging for him like this.

"you like it, though."

"don't think the word 'like' covers it," luke admitted, moving his hand to the back of your head to tug on your hair slightly. you extended your neck, letting luke leave a trail of sloppy kisses along your jaw. his tongue pressed against the marks he left on your skin, soothing the burn. "'m addicted to your filthy mouth, five star. makes me wanna fill it up."

"i'm not gonna stop you," you pulled down his boxers, wrapping your hand around his cock. you stroked him slowly, reveling in the raspy groans that left his throat. luke pressed his forehead against yours, watching your hand stroke him through hooded eyes.

"i'm supposed to be showing you how down bad i am for you, not the other way around."

you put a light pressure against the bulging vein on his cock and luke had to bite your shoulder blade to keep himself from being too loud. everyone was home, and while they knew of your relationship, he wasn't gonna be an asshole and subject them to knowing the details of it.

"let me hear you, pretty boy," you cooed, kissing along his scar as you pumped his cock faster. "let me hear how good i make you feel."

"fucking hell, five star," luke chuckled, darkly, bucking his hips. your hand felt too good. "don't wanna cum in your hand."

"in my hand, in my mouth, on my tits," you licked a long stripe down his neck, sucking on his adam's apple. "in me, everywhere luke. want you everywhere."

he was convinced you were going to be the death of him. luke placed a hand over yours, stopping you from your movements. as you opened your mouth to protest, luke lifted you off the counter and planted you in front of him. "get on your knees for me, yeah?"

a wicked grin appeared on your face and luke knew that he wasn't going to last very long. mischief in your eyes always meant that he was going to have another memory to have that'll keep him busy during the months you'd be apart.

you sunk down on your knees, batting your eyelashes at him as you kissed the head of his cock. luke bit his bottom lip so hard he was afraid he'd draw blood. his hands pulled your hair up in a makeshift ponytail as you slowly bobbed your head up and down his cock.

"shit, baby," luke moaned, a dopey look on his face. this is what heaven feels like, he's convinced of it. you were his own personal slice of heaven on earth. "so pretty like this."

you gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat and luke wanted to apologize but this felt too good for him to feel sorry. tears were pooling in your eyes as you sucked him in deeper. your thumb flicked his tip, collecting the beads of precum there, "tell me how you like it, luke. wanna be good for you."

"you're perfect, sweetheart," he replied, wiping the stray tear that escaped your eye. you smiled at him innocently, feeling a sense of pride blooming in your chest. "always so perfect for me, hm? my perfect little five star."

you hummed, going back down to wrap your lips around him. luke let go of your hair and placed his hands on your cheeks, bucking his hips forward. he was fucking your mouth harshly and you loved every second of it. he was panting above you, incoherent words escaping his lips. when you pulled away and licked around him, a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock. it was a glorious sight.

luke was stuck there admiring you make a mess on his cock and if you weren't so fucking turned on by how hot he looked when he was fucked out, you would've teased him about how speechless he was. you stroked his cock, tongue poking out the side of your lips before you spoke, "you like seeing your girlfriend on her knees for you?"

"fuck," luke hissed. it was the first time you referred to yourself as his girlfriend and it was pathetic how that one sentence had him nearing his peak, but he felt possessive. you were his girlfriend now.

"you gonna answer me, luke?" you mumbled, placing kisses along the underside of his cock. "because i like being on my knees for my boyfriend."

"fuck, five star. yes," he panted, screwing his eyes shut. his body felt like it was on fire. "yes, i do, baby."

satisfied with his answer, you took him into your mouth again, moaning as he thrusted deeper. he was losing his rhythm, a sign that he was getting close. luke's eyes stayed glued on your face, committing the sight of your pink lips wrapped around his cock to memory.

with a few more thrusts, he tapped on your hollowed cheeks to signal that he was cumming. he had to steady himself when you refused to pull away, nodding when he asked if he could cum in your mouth. luke came with hot, milky spurts down your throat, loudly groaning your name as he came.

when you swallowed his load, you got up from your knees and pressed your lips against his once more. luke loved tasting his cum on your tongue. he kissed you, not once pulling away, as he led you to your bed. he pushed you on soft bed, getting on his knees to pull your panties down.

you leaned on your elbows as you watched him disappear under the fabric of the shirt you wore. luke pushed up the shirt to where your thighs began, leaving red marks on your skin as he approached your pussy. "my turn."

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter Two

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.1k

A/N : I was feeling well enough to finally get this chapter finished!

CHAPTER ONE

Master List

Chapter Two

The morning after, it felt like it had all been part of some weird, misremembered dream. The kind of dream that you’d wake from with a sense of longing, wishing that a man like that could be real. But it hadn’t been real. That was the point of The Red Ribbon; nothing that happened there was real.

Still, you found yourself thinking about those dark eyes, about your little game and the things he’d let slip about himself.

Not to mention the way he’d promised to find you again. 

You laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how things might be if your life was just a little bit different, if you’d met him somewhere else.

But that was stupid. If you’d met him outside of The Red Ribbon, it would have been you and not Bunny that he’d met, and you were certain that he wouldn’t like who you were behind the mask.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself from your warm bed and got ready for your day. As you stepped into the foyer of Anvil, you hoped that Mr Russo wouldn’t be there and that he’d been lying about turning up at 5am. All you wanted was a nice, quiet morning where you could get things done without him making you feel like crap.

But you weren’t that lucky. 

As you reached your desk, you could hear him on the phone - you only caught snatched words, but it sounded like he was trying to describe someone - but you thought nothing of it as you sat down and opened your laptop.

You were gifted ten wonderful minutes before his office door opened.

“I need everything we have on the Harris deal and I want my lunch at one,” he instructed.

“Yes, Mr Russo,” you said automatically, reaching for a pen. “What would you like for lunch?”

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” he said, “But get it from that place on 53rd, not the place on 38th.”

“Okay. And do you want your morning coffee yet?”

“Yes. In fact, get it as soon as you’ve pulled those files for me,” he continued before pausing a beat, “and don’t make a mess of them.”

“Okay.”

Then he was gone, leaving you to diligently set about your tasks for the day. 

Getting his coffee went without a hitch, and so did his lunch order, but the files he requested weren’t so easy. 

You managed to get almost all of them ready for him, but there was one - an important financial document, that was giving you problems.

You stared at the screen, trying every way you knew to open the files, only to be met by the same Corrupted File message. You called down to IT, desperately begging someone to come and have a look.

You’d met Ryan on your first day with Anvil, he’d help set up your laptop and give you access to everything you’d need to do the job and, since then, you’d struck up something of a work-friendship with him. 

He leaned over you, looking at your laptop, clicking the file and going through - whatever tech magic it was that he thought might salvage the file. Eventually, he managed to find the file and you quickly sent it to print.

“There you go, nothing to it,” he said, smiling down at you, still leaning ever-so close to you.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ryan. Honestly, you have no idea how much shit I’d be in if -”

Ryan pulled back at the sound of a door opening and you both turned to find Billy Russo standing there.

“I was about to ask why my lunch was late, but I guess I don’t have to,” he said in that cold tone he seemed to reserve just for you.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the clock - fuck-fuck-fuck, you were supposed to have picked up his lunch twenty minutes ago.

Ryan muttered something of an apology and hastily made his way towards the door, seeing himself out.

Quickly, you got to your feet, knocking your desk and causing your water bottle to topple, soaking the desk as it rolled off and onto the carpet. You cringed, watching as water dripped off the desk and started to create a puddle on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you do anything without fucking up?” Russo sighed.

“I’m sorry, Mr Russo - there was an issue with one of the files so -”

“So you had to call someone from IT to come and flirt with you?” He said harshly. “Look, I don’t care about excuses, I just want you to do your fucking job, okay? It’s not fucking hard.”

“Yes, Mr Russo.”

“Now, clean up this fucking mess, and go get me my lunch. If you don’t have it on my desk before my meeting at two, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”

You managed to hold back tears until his office door was shut, but you didn’t have time to wallow and cry, no matter how much you felt like you needed to. You threw yourself onto hands and knees and quickly mopped up the spillage before racing out of the building to hail a taxi.

He barely even bothered to look at you when you returned with his lunch with only fifteen minutes to spare, and you were almost certain that he’d wanted you to fail. He wanted a reason to fire you.

Dread followed you for the rest of the day, filling your chest like a weight that dragged you down the depths of despair. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you lost your job at Anvil, especially since you were certain that Mr Russo wouldn’t exactly offer you a glowing reference.

On your way home, you checked your bank account and realised that, once again, you were reaching the end of your overdraft. If you lost your job you were going to run out of money and then...

You didn’t want to think about then...

The next day followed the same pattern; the barista at Starbucks managed to fuck up Mr Russo’s coffee order, so he took it out on you, sending you back to get him fresh cup, despite the freezing cold rain.

By the time you were at home preparing for your next shift at The Red Ribbon, you knew what you were going to have to do.

You got there early, before the club even opened and, instead of getting changed straight away, you headed to the manager’s office. Fortunately, unlike your boss at Anvil, Val who ran The Red Ribbon was a lot more... approachable.

You went in with a whole speech prepared, about how you wanted to change your limits, but it wasn’t really needed.

Negotiated touching, meaning that physical touch wasn’t entirely off the table but patrons shouldn’t expect it. They would need to ask or, if the situation called for it, you would need to ask. And, still, you got to set your own limits, you got to say no and have Rocky deal with anyone who pushed your boundaries.

“Are you sure?” Val asked, looking for any sign of doubt. You gave a nod, not trusting your voice to not betray you. “And just what brought on this change of heart?”

You couldn’t tell her about Anvil, about the day job you were certain you were going to lose; it was too high profile, too dangerous, she’d see it as a conflict of interest, and the last thing you needed was for her to fire you.

You managed a shrug. “I just figured it was time. My rent is going up next month and I’m sick of scraping to get by.”

By rights you shouldn’t have been scraping by at all, even with just the money that you made from working at The Red Ribbon. Val shot you a questioning look, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t ask how you managed to burn through so much money so quickly. Everyone at The Red Ribbon had their own stories, you supposed, and you were no different and, while Val always did what she could to make sure everyone was safe and content, ultimately, she was there to make money too.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure you’re happy doing this.”

“I am. Really. I’ll be fine.”

And, that was that.

As you stepped out onto the club floor that night, wearing the fox mask, you were greeted by Rocky. It quickly became clear he knew that you’d changed your limits and, as he fitted your security bracelet for the evening, he was very clear about what you should do if you felt uncomfortable even for a second. Then, he followed you to the fox room and told you he’d be right outside all night.

Everything was fine.

It was shocking just how fine everything was. While touching was allowed, all you got was the occasional pat on the shoulder, a gesture that you returned in kind, but even with just that, you saw an increase in your tips by the end of the night.

Over the next few days, you found yourself almost forgetting about Tall, Dark and Handsome, as you lost yourself in trying to keep your head above water at Anvil, and making more money at The Red Ribbon.

It was a week to the day that you stood in front of the board, checking your room assignment for the night when you noticed that you were in the cat room, one of the smaller rooms in The Red Ribbon, usually only used when there were one or two patrons that wanted private service. There was a note beside your name in brackets; by request. 

Some of the hosts had repeat customers, people who were so impressed by their skills that they requested the same host every time, but it was the first time that it had ever happened to you.

It was him.

It had to be him.

Your heart stuttered as you made your way to the cat room, saying a quick hello to Rocky as you got your bracelet fitted. He must have sensed your nervousness because he asked you if you were alright, if you needed him outside the door just in case. You shrugged him off, told him it was fine.

You’d never hosted in the cat room before, so you took a few minutes to familiarise yourself with it and to make sure everything was clean and comfortable.

Then the door opened and your heart threatened to stop completely.

“Bunny.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine and brought a smile to your lips.

You tapped the cat mask on your face. “Not tonight.”

“You can put on any mask you want but you’ll still be my Bunny,” he said without a second of hesitation.

(His Bunny?)

Your breath caught as he stepped towards you, your head tilting back slightly the closer he got so that you could see his dark eyes.

“I told you I’d find you again,” he said.

“You did,” you said, trying desperately to calm your racing heart. “Though, I’m not sure if it counts as cheating to pay to find me.”

You smirked at him and watched as he considered the comment.

“I play to my strengths,” he said, shrugging.

“Money is a strength?”

“It is if you have it,” he answered.

He took another step, until there was no space left between you.

“Can I -” he started to ask but then seemed uncertain of something, “- am I allowed to touch you?”

His hand flexed as his side, his fingers seemed to itch and strain, wanting nothing more than to reach for you.

“Yes,” you answered softly, breathlessly.

Slowly, cautiously even, he reached for you, placing his hand on your cheek, just below the mask. Your eyes closed and you leaned into the warmth of his hand.

“What changed?” He asked, still sounding uncertain.

It took you a couple of seconds to figure out what he meant; when you’d last seen him a week ago, you’d been strictly hands off but, now, you were letting him touch you. You shrugged and shook your head a little.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Your hand rose to hold his, keeping it pressed against your cheek for a few more seconds before pulling it away and using it to lead him towards the sofa.

With a playful smile, you pushed him down onto the sofa and reached down to frame his face with your hands. As he looked up at you, it struck you just how tired he looked, and it brought about a strange want inside of you; the desire to take care of him.

“Let me get you a drink,” you said softly, lingering for a few more seconds before pulling away from him.

The bar was a lot smaller in this private room than the one you’d met him in, mostly meant for solo patrons and mostly those that wanted to do a lot more than just touch. Still, the bar was well stocked, and it took you no time at all to fill a glass with some ice and pour him a healthy measure of scotch.

When you returned to him, he took the glass from your hand and looked at you with some confusion as you sat beside him, your leg pulled up onto the sofa so you could face him better.

“Seriously, what changed?” He asked again.

“Maybe I was just optimistic that you’d find me again,” you answered with a shrug.

“So you’re... you’re okay?”

Of course, you knew where the thought had to have come from; he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you were willing to let masked strangers touch you for money, and that there had to be some terrible reason behind it.

“I’m fine,” you told him, reaching to cup his cheek, “so stop worrying about me and drink your drink.”

As if taking your words as a challenge, he lifted his glass and knocked it back in one go. Then, he seemed to settle a little, sitting back and fixing his dark eyes on you. You relieved him of the empty glass and placed it on the table, quickly returning your full attention to him.

“You look tired,” you said, the hand on his cheek moving, slipping your fingers into his hair.

“It’s been a long week.”

His eyes flickered shut and you heard him let out a soft sigh.

“Want to talk about it?”

His head shook, eyes still closed. “Just work stuff I’d rather not think about.”

“Then what do you want to think about?” You asked playfully, hoping to lighten his mood.

“You.”

“What about me?” You prompted, still running your fingers through his hair.

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” you said, letting your fingers still for a moment.

Your breath caught as his eyes opened and he looked at you again. There was something so unreadable in his dark eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a promise. He didn’t say anything so you continued.

“And, I think you wanted me to kiss you,” you said before pausing for a beat. “Didn’t you?”

That got a smile from him, that same little smirk that had been stuck in your mind since the last time you’d seen him.

“Wanted to do more than kiss you, Bunny.”

“Yeah, you did,” you said, barely holding back a smirk.

He laughed, daring to reach for you again, his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips.

“What is it about you?” He asked softly. “How is it that I feel so at ease when I'm with you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest and you felt heat creep across your cheeks. It took every ounce of common sense at your disposal to remind yourself that the moment wasn't real and that, if he was face to face with the real you, he probably wouldn't be interested.

“The mask,” you offered, “or the fact that there's no expectations beyond this moment. We can be whoever we want to be right now and no one can say that we can't.”

“And who do you want to be right now, Bunny?”

“I want to be your Bunny.”

He seemed almost taken aback by your answer, shifting in his seat, leaning closer to you.

“You want to be mine?”

“For the night.”

“Just for the night?”

Your expression softened and turned into something a little sadder, knowing that you couldn't indulge him even though some part of you desperately wanted to.

“Let's not ruin it by thinking about later,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips. “Let's just enjoy now. Do you want another drink?”

“No, I want another kiss,” he said with all the confidence of a man who usually got exactly what he wanted.

“Oh, you do, do you?” You asked playfully.

Your fingers stilled and, instead, lightly gripped his hair as you lost yourself in his gaze. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game and, while you might have wanted to tell yourself that it was just the job and that all of this was just because he had paid for your time,  there was more to it than that. It was silly but, some part of you wanted it to be real.

After the week you’d had, you wanted a moment where you didn’t feel useless, a moment where you felt wanted, even if the whole thing was just some ridiculous fantasy.

And, maybe, that was exactly what he wanted too, some escape from reality for an evening.

“I do,” he said, but made no attempt to close the distance between you.

He was giving you the choice. He wasn’t demanding or forcing it just because he was paying for your time.

With a smile on your lips, you leaned towards him and kissed him. It was nothing special, just a light peck on the lips, but it felt like so much more. It felt like a promise, an offer of something wonderful, but only for the next few hours.

His hand slipped to your neck, fingers resting above your racing pulse, and you could tell from the slight narrowing of his eyes he could tell that your heart was beating for him in that moment.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Don’t thank me. I wanted to kiss you.”

Reluctantly, you let your fingers slip from his hair and you sat back beside him, creating a little bit of space between you. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you didn’t want to rush or put yourself in a situation that you’d regret.

“So, should I ask how much money you had to spend to make this happen?” You asked, smiling playfully.

“Oh, an obscene amount,” he said, grinning straight back at you.

“Obscene?”

“A truly disgusting amount.”

“You rich guys, you think you can throw your money around and get whatever you want, don’t you?” You asked with mock indignation. 

“I told you, Bunny; I always get what I want.”

You burst out laughing, amused by how serious he managed to sound. Though, in all honesty, you were trying not to actually think about how much he must have paid to make this happen. It was both unsettling and exhilarating to think that anyone might want to spend that sort of money just to be around you.

“You might always get what you want, but I’m starting to think you rarely get what you need,” you told him before getting to your feet.

You grabbed his glass from the table and headed back to the bar, this time bringing the scotch bottle back alone with a fresh glass of ice.

“You think this is what I need?” He asked as you refiled the glass and set the bottle down.

“No, I think what you need is a good night’s sleep,” you told him softly, sinking back onto the sofa beside me. “When was the last time you slept more than a couple of hours?” 

A subtle shift in things followed, a clumsy sort of tension, as if you’d shattered the illusion that you’d both been trying to hide in. For a moment he looked at you and you almost braced yourself to be told it was none of your fucking business. After all, who were you to say such things to him?

“It’s been a rough couple of months,” he said, giving an uncomfortable shrug and you noticed an awkward sort of tension in his shoulder.

Without thinking, you reached for him again and began to softly massage where his shoulder and neck met. He let out what could only be described as a relieved sigh and, for a few seconds, he let his eyes close.

“Are you always so tense, or is this just the effect that I have on you?” You teased.

“I’d be lying if I said you didn’t inspire a certain sort of tension... well, it’s more of a stiffness really...”

Your fingers squeezed a little tighter on his shoulder. “Oh, really? Sounds uncomfortable.”

“I’ll survive.”

You managed to hold your composure for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. He joined you and you couldn’t help but wonder how often he got to laugh like that. Not often, if you had to hazard a guess.

“I guess I should be flattered,” you said once you managed to stop laughing.

“Is that your way of telling me that you haven’t given me a second thought since the other night?” He asked, almost pouting.

You bit your lip, torn between brutal honesty and the safer option.

“I might have briefly considered you, once or twice,” you confessed.

It was a dangerous game, and a silly one considering you knew nothing about him. In fact, the whole thing was a little ridiculous; both of you were acting like your first meeting had been more than a couple of hours of silly comments made across a bar. Both of you were acting like it had meant something.

But it was hard to deny that there had been some spark of connection and, as childish as you felt for indulging it, you wanted more.

You watched as he took another drink and, again, drained his glass.

“Tell me, when you were considering me, were you considering anything in particular?” He asked.

“Hmm,” you hummed, appearing lost in thought for a moment, “I can’t really remember.”

Before he could answer, you leaned forward, reaching for the bottle on the table when, suddenly, you felt his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. Fingers cold from gripping his glass found your chin and he angled your face towards his so he could kiss you. 

This time it wasn’t just some chaste peck on the lips. His tongue pressed against the seam of your mouth and your lips parted for him, letting him deepen the kiss while your fingers fisted the fabric of his jacket. His lips tasted of scotch and desire, and it was easy to lose yourself in the moment.

When the kiss finally broke, you let out a contented hum, your eyes remaining shut for a few long seconds. 

“That’s what I was considering,” you said, lips pulling into a smirk again.

“Then maybe I should do it again.”

Before you could even think, his lips were on yours again. You fingers ended up back in his hair, gripping the dark strands and pulling him closer, keeping him against your lips as you kissed.

No one had ever kissed you the way he did; hungrily, needily, like he thought he might die if he didn’t have just one more taste of your lips.

And that was how the evening went from there; teasing playful comments interspersed with kisses that seemed to demand more and more.

You felt like your grip on your sanity was slowly loosening and it wouldn’t be long until it was gone entirely. Here was a man you didn’t know, a man whose face you’d never seen, but you were more than willing to spend the whole night on his lap making out with him as if he was your true love.

Every time you caught yourself thinking about it, you tried to rationalise it; he was a customer and this was what he wanted. 

You were both adults who understood the situation.

(Right?)

Eventually you moved from his lap to refill his glass, wanting to at least make a show of being a good host, even though he pouted and complained that you weren’t allowed to drink with him. And, when you moved back towards him, you were quickly pulled back onto his lap, this time straddling him - so he could see you better, he explained with a smirk that tied your insides in knots.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, smiling at him as he sipped his scotch and stared right back.

“Tell me something real, something about you that no one else knows,” he said, still staring into your eyes.

“I like to go to the Rockefeller Center to watch the ice skaters in the winter,” you confessed as if it was some great and terrible thing.

“You just go to watch? You don’t skate?”

You shook your head and bit back a laugh. “No. I’m not... uh, I’m not very good at ice skating. I'm kinda clumsy, I'd spend all my time falling over...”

“I don't believe that, I've seen you balancing trays or drinks and walking around just fine.”

It was strange that you'd never stopped to think about it like that; you couldn't remember ever dropping anything while you were working at The Red Ribbon, while you were hiding behind the mask, but you could barely get through a day at Anvil without tripping over your own feet or making a mess of something. Maybe that was another benefit of spending your nights as someone else.

“Can you ice skate?” You ask, deciding to redirect the conversation.

“A little, but it's been years since I last tried.”

“You should go some time, have some fun,” you suggested. “You look like you need more fun in your life.”

“I've got all the fun I need right here, Bunny,” he answered back without hesitation. 

“I mean real fun, not…”

It struck you that you didn't even have a word for what this was. A fantasy. A pipe dream. A waste of his time - if you wanted to be brutally honest about it.

“Not what?” He asked, picking up on your moment of hesitation.

“I just mean that when you get bored of this - of me - you should do something fun for yourself, something that makes you smile,” you said with a shrug.

His head shook and you could see the confusion on his face despite the mask.

“Who says I'm going to get bored of this?”

“Come on, handsome, we both know how this goes...” you answered as gently as you could. “You can't just spend the rest of your life coming here to see me.”

“Why? Is someone gonna stop me?”

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze and, realistically, you knew that you should be at least a little bit concerned. He was a customer, this was your job. It wasn’t like you’d just met each other in some bar or coffee shop, and there was really only one sort of person who wanted to come to a place like The Red Ribbon to see the same host every night. But he didn’t seem like that, it didn’t act like some lonely weirdo who thought it was something more than it was.

“You’ll run out of money,” you joked.

“I can always make more.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to refuse,” he countered.

That had you laughing again, resting your hand above his heart, and shaking your head. You leaned forwards, your masked forehead against his, eyes closing tight.

“Carry on like this and I might actually start believing you,” you said softly.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he answered just as quietly.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again and his arm was pulling you closer. The kiss seemed more desperate as he tried to prove what he was telling you was true, and the longer it went on, the more you believed him.

Your chest pressed against his and he groaned into the kiss. A moment later you felt him between your thighs, a hard ridge tenting his pants. His hand moved to your hip, pulling you against him as he pressed upwards, grinding himself against you. You let out a soft moan into the kiss that only got louder as he took your bottom lip between his teeth.

Fuck.

You knew that you should stop but you couldn’t, so you did the next best thing and tried to take control of the situation, making sure he was at your mercy and not the other way around. 

You pulled back a fraction and let your hands glide down the front of his shirt, all the way down to his waistband. Ignoring the trembling in your fingers, you quickly unbuckled his belt and made a strat on the fastenings of his pants. His breath caught as you tugged down the zipper and you hesitated, offering him a brief split-second to tell you to stop. When he didn’t, you slipped your hand into his pants and beneath his boxers to pull out his cock.

Your eyes widened as they travelled down his body to look at him, hard and growing harder still in your grasp. Thick, long and perfect, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. For you. He was hard for you.

“Fuck,” you muttered before you could think to stop yourself.

And he just laughed.

“See something you like, Bunny?”

Instead of answering you bit your lip and started to stroke him, slowly running your hand up and down his shaft. His mouth went slack and his head dropped back, and you paid attention to every little sound and flicker of pleasure on his face, learning exactly how he liked to be touched. Your grip tightened and your hand twisted ever so slightly, and the groan that left him sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your neck, trailing wet kisses along the column of your throat until you almost forgot that you were the one giving him pleasure.

You didn’t snap back to reality until you felt his lips start to suck the skin just above where the red ribbon sat around your neck. Quickly, your free hand gripped his hair and gave a gentle tug.

“You can’t mark me,” you told him quietly but firmly.

The disappointed grunt he gave was almost enough to have you reconsidering, but he was quickly distracted by your hand.

His cock throbbed in your grasp, veins pulsing in time with his racing heart.

“You like that?” You muttered in a soft and sultry tone. “You like me stroking your cock?”

“Yes - fuck, Bunny - yes,” he groaned.

“Are you gonna come for me?” 

There was no telling where your new found confidence had come from, you’d never been the sort to engage in dirty talk before but something about the moment made you feel powerful. That you, of all people, could have some powerful, wealthy man trembling beneath your touch was an intoxicating feeling.

“Come for me, handsome. Show me how much you like me.”

You watched as his jaw set and his teeth gritted, like he was trying to hold back, like he wanted the moment to go on and on. It only made your hand move faster, fingers twisting around his shaft.

When he continued to deny you, your fingers in his hair tightened their hold again, pulling his head up and forcing him to look you in the eye.

And that was all it took.

His cock started to twitch and you felt warm cum running over your hand, but all the while you held his gaze, enjoying the desperate little sounds that were escaping him.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, breathless and boneless as he sank back against the sofa.

You gave him a triumphant smirk, your hand still gripping his cock as it started to soften. When you finally pulled it away, you lifted it to your mouth and made a show of slowly licking his cum from one of your fingers.

After a moment more, you slowly stood, ignoring your shaking legs as you headed towards the bar to grab a towel to clean up with. You quickly rinsed your hand before returning to him, kneeling between his legs and tenderly wiping him clean.

When you were about to pull away again, you were stopped by his hand on your chin, tilting your head up.

“Tell me it’s not just about the money,” he said.

Your heart almost stopped at the request.

As much as you’d been trying to tell yourself that you were playing the part of Bunny, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, not with him.

“It’s not about the money,” you answered, feeling your cheeks start to heat, “I wouldn’t’ve done that with you for money.”

It felt like the most honest thing you’d said to him so far. If he’d asked, if he’d thrown money at you like so many men had since you started hosting at The Red Ribbon, you would have told him no. 

No, you’d done it because you wanted to because, regardless of how strange and fucked up the circumstances were, you enjoyed his company, even if you were both hiding behind your masks.

But, it seemed that he wasn’t willing to hide behind masks anymore.

You recoiled the second you felt his fingers nudging the cat mask upwards, your fingers tugging it back into place.

“Don’t,” you said, begged. “Don’t ruin this.”

“I - I’m sorry. I just - fuck, Bunny - I just want to see you.”

He sat forward and his hand found your shoulder, offering a gentle and reassuring squeeze that really didn’t help matters.

“We can’t. That’s not how this works,” you told him, trying to keep the regret from spilling into your voice.

He nodded and started to tuck himself back into his pants. You took the opportunity to pull back and get to your feet.

Then he was standing, pulling his jacket back on. He reached for you and pulled your body to his, holding you tight as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I told you, Bunny. I always get what I want. And I want you.”

Despite his playful tone, there was a gravity to his words, something that caused your heart to stutter. When you looked up, he caught your lips in another eager kiss, and you let him. You kissed him back, once again losing yourself in the fantasy that this could be something more than what it was, that this could be real.

Then, he was gone, leaving you with the unspoken promise that this thing between you was far from over.

You didn’t sleep that night, laying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get the thought of him from your mind. The only thing that helped was your vibrator, though once you’d made yourself come, you were right back at square one, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

Fortunately, when you turned up at Anvil the next morning, you were happy to find an email from Mr Russo telling you that he’d be out of office all day, meaning that you could work in peace.

On your way home, you found yourself heading towards the Rockefeller Center, stopping on the way to grab a coffee. You snuggled into your thick coat, occasionally glancing up at the sky, idly wondering if it was going to snow over Christmas.

When you reached the rink, you slowly made your way through the crowd, enjoying getting lost in the hustle and bustle until you saw a familiar face across the ice.

Billy Russo.

It didn’t click straight away - all you could think about was why would you boss be there - but when he reached up to brush back his hair and covered the top half of his face for a split second, the familiarity hit you like a brick.

It was him.

Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome was Billy Russo.

A/N : I hate being ill so much... 0/10 do not recommend (though it did give me time to finally start playing Black Ops 6 which I do recommend). Anyway hopefully I managed to get most of the dumb typos in this one. I know this story probably seems a bit faster than most of my fics but since this is only going to be three parts (or four if I get carried away) I didn't want to spend a lot of time on slow burn or b-plots. Plus it's a Christmas story and I want to finish it while it's still seasonal . Any way, I hope you're all having fun with this one because I certainly am.

Thanks for reading, hope you all have a great week (enjoy new years and stay safe!!)

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @benbarnesprettygurl

[genericpuff]

Hey Puff,

I'm someone who has always struggled with how to do research "correctly," but have lurked around the community enough to know RS had a real tendency for… not doing enough. Do you have any recommendations, not necessarily specific to Greek mythos, on how to just do research? Is Wikipedia even a good jumping off point?

Thanks!

Biggest thing, at least for me, is being thorough! The reason a lot of folks tend to side-eye Wikipedia as a "source" isn't just because it's relatively easy for anyone to edit, but also because Wikipedia itself is a library of sources and not the source itself.

Wikipedia can be a perfectly acceptable jump off point, as long as you're actually jumping to the places it can lead to - and you can do that through References.

Let's use the Wikipedia entry for Persephone as an example.

Sourcing "improperly" through Wikipedia would be to simply source directly from one of the sentences listed here and calling it a day. No further digging on where the excerpt comes from, no cross-referencing with other material, just reading the part on Wikipedia that says she was a vegetation goddess, slapping it into an essay or adaption or whatever, and then not confirming it further or picking apart the why of her status as a vegetation goddess through extended research.

Sooo what do we do to find that info? Let's search the word 'vegetation' and see if anything else comes up.

There we go, that has a bit more detail. And from here, we can click the little '19' at the end of the paragraph, which will take us to the References section at the bottom of the page.

Aaaand boom! Now you've got an actual source that you can dig into further, if you so choose. There isn't a whole lot that I can access of this sourced book online, but I was able to find an excerpt where the author sourced Cicero, a Roman poet and philosopher (among other things) who lived during the rise of the Roman empire:

That said, sometimes these sources aren't quite so easy to track down. That's where cross-referencing can help - but that means leaving Wikipedia!

Where this concerns a Greek goddess, let's see what we can find on Theoi, another great resource specifically pertaining to Greek / Roman / etc. deities, stories, and customs.

Though it's not quite as clickable as Wikipedia, Theoi also does a good job at outlining sources in their descriptions. Though Bennett isn't mentioned here, Hesiod and Cicero are, and wouldn't you know it, they're sourced on Theoi as well.

So there you have it! Even though Bennett is from the early 2000's, he did his own work to outline and source poets and academics whose work he was now documenting himself. This means the odds of Bennett simply making shit up are low because he sourced from the preserved works of the era he's speaking on and those works are referenced again through other resource libraries such as Theoi.

What ALL that helps with at the very least - aside from the opinions one could have about the sources themselves (Ovid 😒) - is to legitimize the research. We know without a shadow of a doubt that Persephone was attributed to vegetation and the harvest because there are so many sources across different cultures and backgrounds and generations stating it as such. It thus makes the conclusions a lot more credible, even when they're coming from a more modern source, because that source was built on their own research and sources from the Greek/Roman/etc. documents that have been preserved (and there's still new stuff being found!!!)

Obviously there are always arguments to be made about the material itself, especially when it comes to the debates over translations and cultural contexts, but actually following up on initial searches with referencing and cross-referencing is a lot more reliable and credible than simply taking something from Wikipedia and saying "I read it on the Internet."

As much as the effectiveness of Google and Wikipedia as legitimate research sources is frowned upon, they are incredibly effective, you just need to know where to look and how to find it, and most importantly - how to verify it.

And that's just the online stuff! Libraries are still alive and well! Many universities contribute to search engines like WorldCat which are designed specifically for research papers, published articles, and textbooks! Point is, the world around us is full of knowledge and resources, so the key is to learn how to navigate it so you can get the most out of it!

This is ultimately why it's so important to not restrict yourself to the first Google result - I know it's "easier" due to the convenience of it all, but you're also robbing yourself of the opportunity to really expand your knowledge beyond the summary of a targeted first result, and it runs the risk of sourcing from illegitimate sources or sources that are controlled by Google's own self-interests (protip: have a very specific problem but Googling it just gets you a bunch of automated sponsor posts and completely useless results? add 'reddit' to the end of your search, you'll get human answers from real human beings and there's always at least ONE other person who's had the same problem and posted about it to reddit LMAO seriously this one's saved my skin so many times)

And when you learn to do research the way that works for your brain? It's really, really fun. A lot more fun than public school led many of us to believe. If you learn best from talking and engaging with people, then go talk to people! Participate in groups and forums that are dedicated to the topic you're researching! If you learn best from listening to audio material, then try out audiobooks, they can often be found online through various means (🏴‍☠️) BUT ebooks and audiobooks are stocked at libraries too!

But of course, that leads us to what makes for bad research, and I obviously can't use any other example in this context than Rachel herself, whose "research" is evidently often the first recommended result that pops up on Google. And yes, I can say evidently because we've proven this when she tried to source the term 'xenia' into LO as a definition. Not only was it copy pasted to the point of still containing typos, but it was sourced plainly from a Princeton study guide that is now severely outdated - not the work that that study guide was sourcing from in and of itself.

(notice how she just sourced it as "princeton.edu" and not the specific URL that it came from)

If she really wanted to sound well-researched with the cheeky insert of the definition of xenia linking to a smart-sounding location (we're gonna ignore that it ruins the flow of the comic) then she could have sourced it from literally any of these:

But instead she did the equivalent of an 8th grader copy pasting a sentence from Wikipedia and calling it "research". It's not research. It's a lazy shortcut and it doesn't facilitate any real learning.

This can be seen in other instances as well, such as Metis' design:

As well as Leto, who I kinda think Rachel mixed up with the Full Metal Alchemist character of the same name when googling her because I can think of no other explanation as to why she's a sun goddess in LO when she has zero affiliation with the sun in the myths aside from being Apollo's mother-

(I can't prove that this is what happened but it's hilarious to think about; I'm also low key suspicious that Rachel accidentally mixed in some sources of the Métis people because Metis' design is very... Indigenous-coded 🤨)

^^^ This. This is all bad research. It's not a bad thing if Rachel's interest in Greek myth started through works like Hercules or other creative adaptions, that's actually how it starts for many of us. Where she failed was by trying to sell herself as a "folklorist" and her work as a "retelling", without actually following through in her research. She would often only do just enough to make herself seem well educated on the subject to anyone whose knowledge was as basic - or less - than hers, but not enough that it could actually hold up in a real discussion about Greek myth with other people who are more read up on it than her. Rachel's self-proclaimed "folklorist" title is only validated by the lowest common denominator of readers, who 99% of Lore Olympus ended up being made for in the end, while those who actually understood the myths deeper than their Wikipedia summaries pulled their hair out in frustration every time Rachel tried to make some sly reference to a myth or attempted to speak about it in interviews.

Comparisons aside, the best part is that this research process doesn't have to be exclusive to studying historical stuff! Writing a story that features a disabled character, but you yourself are not disabled and are worried you're going to misrepresent? Search up articles and posts that pertain to the specific disability you're trying to write; I guarantee you that there are people living with that disability offering up that information completely for free because they want to see more representation for themselves in media. Trying to learn how to draw characters of different body types / skin colors / etc. from your own? Seek out the works and advice of those who do have those physical differences and learn from them.

It's about being thorough. It's about opening yourself up to things you may have been blind to before. It's about embracing the learning experience as a positive sign of growth, not a negative sign of failure. It's about taking the opportunity to learn every time it presents itself, even if those opportunities are small and passive. A person who doesn't know is just a person who hasn't learned yet (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و