#i hate having to take breaks to do plot stuff

[tuxedo-rabbit]

The kingdom management in kingmaker is addicting. I know a lot of people found it tedious but I love creating little villages, planning out where the buildings should go, even the war table missions are fun!

It ticks that same box for me that sid meyer's civilization games & settlement building in fo4 do.

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[theriverdalereviewer]

very happy that I am staying far and away from yellowjackets twitters because they’re starting to sound like kpop stans

[quil12]

I just finished the rough draft of a chapter for a fic and it's just under 5k words

[winterlilyarts]

Pov you get trapped in a magical forest and smth is up with ur bff

Fancy-ish lighting ver under the cut

I still have a lot to figure out with lighting in digital drawings

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[satoruan]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.  

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me! 

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle. 

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72  types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer. 

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.  

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.  

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’ 

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.” 

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’ 

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop. 

— 

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.  

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in. 

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”  

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself. 

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles. 

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening. 

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.” 

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car. 

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car. 

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.” 

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.  

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop. 

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...” 

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.  

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.” 

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.  

“Y/n!” You mom gasps. 

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better. 

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad. 

“Sweetheart...” 

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.” 

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket. 

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?” 

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport. 

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior. 

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.” 

— 

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.” 

“Kay, thanks.”  You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.  

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72. 

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.  

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’  Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies. 

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’ 

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’ 

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’ 

‘Are you serious?’ 

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’ 

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’ 

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’ 

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’ 

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’ 

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’ 

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’ 

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’ 

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’ 

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’ 

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’ 

— 

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents. 

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.  

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different. 

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile. 

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces.  You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.  

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile.  Suguru has different plans. 

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster.  Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?  

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t. 

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.  

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.  

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you. 

“What?” You ask. 

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.” 

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it. 

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say. 

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare. 

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost. 

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling. 

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please—” 

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him. 

— 

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.  

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72. 

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’ 

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’ 

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened. 

‘Oh wow.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’ 

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’  

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring. 

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care. 

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box. 

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.” 

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’ 

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh. 

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’ 

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight. 

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.  

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’ 

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.” 

‘And what is that?’ 

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight. 

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please... 

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’  

You nod. 

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’ 

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand. 

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day... 

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt. 

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.  

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder. 

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.  

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming. 

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out. 

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water. 

“N-no!” 

— 

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.  

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress. 

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously. 

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie. 

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.  

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad. 

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back. 

 Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.  

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.  

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.  

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.  

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.  

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks. 

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him. 

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.  

“No babydoll—” 

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed. 

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.  

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.   

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.”   You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him. 

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”  

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother. 

“I know it’s a lot of information.” 

“It is.” 

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.  

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.  

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.  

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?  

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.  

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—” 

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.  

“Suguru—” 

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face. 

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.  

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.  

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.”  You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair. 

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you. 

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.  

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.  

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.” 

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.  

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.  

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.” 

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.  

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders. 

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks. 

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips. 

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.  

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man. 

“You okay babydoll?”  

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.” 

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.” 

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.  

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt. 

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.  

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.  

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.  

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch. 

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.  

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.  

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.”  he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark. 

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you. 

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.  

“T-that was—” 

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.” 

“Same.” You smile before wincing. 

“What’s wrong babydoll.”  

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble. 

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly. 

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”  

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.”  He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.  

[zombolouge]

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Plot Method

The Save the Cat! Beat Sheet was originally developed by Blake Snyder to help screenwriters plot movies, but it works just as well with novels.

It breaks down the 3-act structure into small, specific sections (sometimes just one scene long).

Each section pushes your story forward in its own way.

The exact word count/page count of each section depends on how long your novel is and what type of story you’re telling, but you can use the colored chart below and the percentages in the instructions as a guide. 

Context Note: This method is based on the concept of the Three Act Structure, which is an inherently Western approach to plot. It can be a useful way to tell a story, but it is by no means the only one.

ACT 1

Opening Image (0-1%)

Show a “before” snapshot of your protagonist and their world.

What is life like before the adventure begins?

It represents the struggle & tone of the story.

Set-up (1-10%)

Expand on the “before” snapshot.

Explore your protagonist’s life, including the internal flaws and external challenges they’ll have to overcome in order to change for the better by the end of the story.

Present the main character’s world as it is, and what is missing in their life.

Also introduce important supporting characters.

Theme Stated (happens during the Set-up)

What your story is about; the message, the truth.

Usually, it is spoken to the main character or in their presence, but they don’t understand the truth/lesson…not until later, when they have some personal experience and context to support it.

Thus, include a scene where a character says something that hints at what the protagonist’s big life lesson will be - how they’ll have to change and grow by the end of the story.

Catalyst (10%)

The moment where life as it is changes.

Examples: It is the telegram, the act of catching your loved-one cheating, allowing a monster onboard the ship, meeting the true love of your life, etc.

There’s no going back to the “before” world from here… What is the inciting incident that pushes the protagonist into the next phase of the story?

Debate (11-20%)

But change is scary and for a moment, or a brief number of moments, the main character doubts the journey they must take.

Show the protagonist questioning themselves and resisting the path ahead - wondering whether they have what it takes, or whether or they should just run home and hide under the bed.

“Should I just…?” “I really shouldn’t because…” “But what about…” Can I face this challenge? Do I have what it takes? Should I go at all?

It is the last chance for the hero to chicken out.

ACT 2

Break Into 2 (20%; Choosing Act Two)

The main character makes a choice and the journey begins.

We leave the “Thesis” world and enter the upside-down, opposite world of Act 2.

They make the choice to begin their adventure/transformation/journey/new thing.

Show your protagonist deciding to plunge into Act 2.

The Promise of the Premise (21-50%)

This is when the reader thinks “Ah, now we’re getting to the good stuff they hinted at on the back cover of this book!”

It’s also one of the longest sections in your book.

Show your protagonist getting used to their new world - loving it, hating it, making mistakes or doing well, meeting new people (see more below) and keeping the reader entertained.

This is when the main character explores the new world and the audience is entertained by the premise they have been promised.

B Story (happens during The Promise of the Premise)

This is when there’s a discussion about the Theme – the nugget of truth.

Usually, this discussion is between the main character and the love interest.

So, the B Story is usually called the “love story”.

Introduce a new character or characters who will eventually help the protagonist learn their life lesson.

Friends? Mentors? Love interests? Nemeses (nemesi?)? Who are they? How will they help?

Midpoint (50%)

This moment is when everything seems “great” or everything seems “awful,” depending on your story.

The main character either gets everything they think they want (“great”) or doesn’t get what they think they want at all (“awful”).

Either the Fun and Games section has lead to a false victory for your protagonist (they think they’ve been doing great so far) or a false defeat (they’ve been having a hard time so far).

What happens in this moment, halfway between beginning and end?

But not everything we think we want is what we actually need in the end.

Bad Guys Close In (51-75%)

Get ready for a bumpy ride. If your Midpoint was a false victory, now things start to go wrong for your protagonist.

If the Midpoint was a false defeat, well, things seem to be looking up, but the bad guys are getting closer and will have something to say.

Note: Bad guys can be actual physical enemies, but they can also be emotional enemies, like doubt or jealousy or fear.

Doubt, jealousy, fear, foes both physical and emotional regroup to defeat the main character’s goal, and the main character’s “great”/“awful” situation disintegrates.

Show the protagonist’s newly-built world beginning to unravel.

This will also be one of the longer sections in your novel.

All is Lost (75%)

This is when something happens to make your character hit rock bottom.

It’s the absolute lowest part of your novel.

Maybe someone or something dies (either literally or figuratively).

The initial goal now looks even more impossible than before. And here, something or someone dies.

It can be physical or emotional, but the death of something old makes way for something new to be born.

What does this moment look like for your protagonist?

Dark Night of the Soul (76-80%)

Your protagonist now has time to react to their “All is lost” moment, to mourn what they lost and wallow in hopelessness.

They’re worse off than they were at the beginning of the novel.

Show how low things have gotten.

Mourning the loss of what has “died” – the dream, the goal, the mentor character, the love of your life, etc.

But, you must fall completely before you can pick yourself back up and try again.

ACT 3

Break Into 3 (80%; Choosing Act Three)

The “aha!” moment; the “lift yourself up and try again” moment.

Show the protagonist realizing what they need to do in order to tackle their problems, both external and internal.

Thanks to a fresh idea, new inspiration, or last-minute Thematic advice from the B Story (usually the love interest), the main character chooses to try again.

Finale (81-99%)

The protagonist does what they decided to do in the Break Intro 3 beat, and (because of all the learning/growing they’ve done and the support or insight from the B Story), their plan works.

This time around, the main character incorporates the Theme – the nugget of truth that now makes sense to them – into their fight for the goal because they have experience from the A Story and context from the B Story.

The Bad Guys are defeated, the world is changed for the better.

What are the battles? How will the protagonist triumph (or not)?

This is another longer section, so you’ve got the space to make things dramatic and intense.

Act Three is about Synthesis.

Final Image (99-100%)

This is the opposite of the Opening Image, the “after” snapshot instead of the “before.”

Show the reader how the protagonist and their world have changed.

THE END

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[amethystwrytes]

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum. 

“Can you stop please?” 

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands. 

“...Sorry…” 

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade. 

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber. 

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign. 

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse. 

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes. 

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room. 

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again. 

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again. 

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?” 

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.” 

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.” 

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks. 

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation. 

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something. 

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk. 

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.” 

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.” 

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not. 

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.” 

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?” 

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter. 

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump. 

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.” 

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’ 

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing. 

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?” 

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk. 

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?” 

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.” 

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes. 

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic. 

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.” 

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates. 

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff. 

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.” 

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down. 

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.” 

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.” 

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.” 

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers. 

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.” 

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains. 

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?” 

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.” 

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses. 

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer. 

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles. 

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks. 

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him. 

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.” 

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it. 

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh. 

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him. 

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on. 

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile. 

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out. 

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg. 

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?” 

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.” 

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself. 

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable. 

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again. 

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades. 

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee. 

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up. 

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack. 

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing. 

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?” 

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment. 

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle. 

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease. 

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head. 

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit. 

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side. 

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment. 

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed. 

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?” 

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself. 

“Never something you what?” he presses. 

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.” 

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him. 

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares. 

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves. 

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.” 

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.” 

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs. 

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego. 

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins. 

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder. 

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle. 

“Is this your building?” he points. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers. 

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder. 

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard. 

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today. 

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag. 

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?” 

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished. 

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.” 

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes. 

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.” 

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks. 

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.” 

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.” 

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.” 

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!” 

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door. 

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying. 

“Already?” he looks at you. 

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.” 

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him. 

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon. 

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?” 

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.” 

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?” 

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone. 

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask. 

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares. 

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.” 

“Good, shall we?” 

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?” 

“No.” 

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back. 

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?” 

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down. 

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles. 

“I’ll get those right out.” 

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.” 

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.” 

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.” 

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?” 

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.” 

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?” 

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly. 

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table. 

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon. 

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.” 

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu. 

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.” 

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug. 

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse. 

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door. 

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away. 

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again. 

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues. 

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing. 

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth. 

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?” 

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips. 

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car. 

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.” 

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in. 

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition. 

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up. 

“Uh…mine… mine I think.” 

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him. 

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness. 

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?” 

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist. 

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel. 

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans. 

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably. 

“God…” 

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking. 

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily. 

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth. 

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road. 

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours. 

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely. 

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth. 

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?” 

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs. 

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease. 

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.” 

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!” 

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room. 

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer. 

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt. 

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.  

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you. 

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…” 

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly. 

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs. 

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again. 

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind. 

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it. 

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster. 

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts. 

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest. 

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands. 

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.” 

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?” 

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.” 

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you. 

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.” 

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully. 

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

[jadeactuallysucks]

Idc what people say I loved seeing him a terrorist. He’s exactly how I would’ve imagined someone outside of his perspective seeing him

Also doing research on Azrael Angel of Death I can’t tell if he’s supposed to be a fallen Angel or just an Angel but I don’t know religion that well

More stuff I wanna say

With all of you chosen defenders out there saying it was dark who killed mitsi, nahhh we need A train Chosen, I’m calling him over during valentines. Ruin some relationships. Including yours. How is it not a surprise he kills people?He’s quite literally made to be a weapon with all the powers and violent tendencies.

And he was absolutely at fault for making dark a terrorist too no complaint about it. Very hedonistic ideology in which the two of them could do whatever they wanted. In which the world was their sandbox. Up to interpretation

Obviously I view chosen, especially my version of him, different than others. Some of you sickos are treating him nicely!!!!

Low-key mitsi didn’t need to be in the story at all. Just tweak a bit, and also the box would’ve been a lot more callous, instead of agent and victim hating chosen for killing their fridged gf, I would’ve loved the more controversial morals of victim hurting chosen for whatever justification he wanted to come up with. And like there’s too much of a pattern with killing off characters for the sake of plot. I think dark is a good exception cause he was a rabid dog and needed to be put down sorry dark lovers also not sorry cry

I liked that ambiguity, I know most people like stuff spelled out for them with backstories but I like mysteries cause that’s how fanart and fics can be made. Some stuff does need to be explained like how victim escaped and founded rocketcorp which I get.

Oh yeah agent 😛😛😛😛 smash smash smash I see why victim is on the bisexual dance floor he’s amazing. And I don’t need merc backstories, I can just guess he recruited work buddies or just buddies

First part and terrorism parts my favourite scenes, can’t wait for Ava 12 to make or break my interest haha. The box will forever remain my favourite episode the glaze is real

Oh my god victim getting tortured during the first scene. By far the best part (except chosen and dark) in the episode. Kicking and giggling seeing him get revived after being unsaved. I feel like it kinda one ups Chosen’s trauma so I definitely hope that stupid shit gets it worse than victim. Honestly this is the stuff I want left out. I want to imagine the pain he went through rather than see it. Cause even after that he still forgives his tormentor like a dog crawling back to its owner

Uhhh also I have a big complaint about women (sorry women) I don’t like the stereotypes. I don’t need to know they’re a women by the colour pink or long hair. But this is me screaming at a wall cause I watch the same thing kids watch and the main audience is children. I need more characters like blue. Where you can’t tell if they’re a girl or not and you don’t need to care cause they’ll be taking performance enhancing drugs either way

These were all made in the moment so yk agree to disagree. I can’t get myself to hate the episode like how other people manage to do. I guess it’s just cause I stuck around for a year to see this. And I’m sticking around 3 MORE SEASONS BABY

Also like this is a good day for multi fandom me. Al of the stuff I watch is getting new stuff. Like omg Ava, then walten files, then interloper and digital circus and prolly more but I can’t count as you can tell I can only count to four

[his-angell]

"You deserve better than that." (s.cb)

plot; Innocence and inexperience is something a man can easily take advantage of. When (y/n) starts dating a man older than her, Her brothers get protective. They see how awful he is to her, and they know they need to get her away from him. paring; fem!9th!member!reader x bestfriend!Seo Changbin genre; angst, comfort, tad fluffy if you squint word count; 2.3k warnings; reader gets her inexperience taken advantage of, shes dating a mean older guy, arguments (but nothing too serious), cursing, protective Stray Kids, 3rd pov request?; yes! request found here!

When (y/n) started dating an older man, she saw no issues in it. He was kind, caring. He bought her gifts and took care of her. Min-Jun was a good guy. In her eyes at least. Her overprotective older brothers saw straight through his lies. He was using (y/n). He only needed a pretty arm piece. He didn't actually care about her. He was just bored and needed something to do.

Recently, he had been acting a little weird.. So have her members. She saw it. She didn't like any of it. She sat in the living room, Hyunjin, Felix and Chan scattered around. Minho was cooking lunch in the kitchen, The others were in their rooms or at the dining table. (y/n) was kinda zoned out as she listened to her members laugh and talk.

But she spoke up, needing to get rid of the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. "Guys, did something happen?" She spoke up. Felix was the first to look over, confused. "What do you mean?" He hummed, sitting up more to face her better. "You guys are acting really weird recently. Especially when Min-Juns here." She took a deep breath.

Chan immediately rolled his eyes and threw his head back. He ran a hand over his face. God, he hated that guy. The dude was such a faker. He didn't understand how (y/n) didn't see it. He was tired of trying to hide his hatred for the guy. Especially since he was hurting (y/n). He couldn't let himself lie to her anymore. "(y/n).." He mumbled. Hyunjin and Felix shared a glance. They knew how much Chan despised their maknaes boyfriend. They looked down, opting to stay quiet and let Chan talk.

"He's not good for you, (y/n)." Chan finally said it. (y/n)'s blood went cold. "What?" She laughed in disbelief. What was he talking about? "I said he's not good for you! He's using you, (y/n). Why can't you see that?" Chan sat up. (y/n)'s eye twitched. She blinked at the older man before she stood up. "Don't walk away from me, (y/n).." Chan sighed. "No! I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you shit talk my boyfriend just because you don't like him!" She turned to him.

"I don't like him because he's using you! Are you not listening?" Chan backed himself up. "Bullshit." (y/n) grumbled. She turned to walk to her room, but the members were all there now. Poking into the room curiously. She made a face. "What? You guys gonna tell me he's bad too?" She snapped. "Yeah, actually-" Changbin pipped up. But before he could actually speak, the woman groaned and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door.

(y/n) laid down on her bed and huffed. She covered her face with her hands. She was starting to have doubts now.. They were just trying to get her to break up with him because they didn't like him! Min-Jun was a good guy! He took care of her! He bought her stuff! He was a good boyfriend! Well.. Was he?..

Sitting up on her bed, she wondered if maybe- Just maybe they were onto something. Maybe he wasn't as great as she thought?.. She was quick to pull out her phone. She went to her text messages with him. He did seem more dry than usual.. But he was busy! That's what he said! He said he was busy with work stuff!

(y/n) groaned in frustration. She texted him.. "Hi, my love! Do you wanna come over tonight for dinner?" She stared at the message. And stared.. And stared. It wasn't till five minutes later, when she was about ready to say never mind when he responded. "Cant. Going to the bar with some coworkers. Tomorrow night?" Oh. Again? That's fine! It's fine! They've been working on a big project, they deserve a night out. "Alright! See you tomorrow! <3!" She expected a smile emoji. Maybe a 'Can't wait to see you~' But no.. She got nothing. Read at 4:25pm.

She was a little hurt. But she didn't think anything of it. He said he was busy. So, she would brush it off like she did every other time. The poor girl was so innocent and inexperienced. She texted the group chat that Min-Jun would be there for dinner tomorrow before she decided to just go to bed. Going to bed at 4:30? Yes, because she wasn't in the mood to stay up anymore. She didn't wanna deal with Chan anymore. Or any of them for that matter.

That next day wasn't much better. The members were grumpy. For good reason though. (y/n) hadn't necessarily talked to them about Min-Jun coming over, she just assumed they'd be fine with it. But they got over it. Correction- some of them got over it. Chan, Changbin and Minho were still reasonably upset. Minho again was in the kitchen cooking, (y/n) was in there helping.

She was waiting for Min-Jun to show up. She really needed to see him. She needed to know that all the things Chan said weren't true. She needed to be held and told that he really did love her. She rushed to the door when there was a knock. She smiled as she opened it. "Hi," She smiled. "Hey." Min-Jun said flatly, flashing a smile before walking past her and slipping off his shoes. "Smells good." He said. (y/n) blinked. She pursed her lips, a little upset she didn't get a kiss.

"Ah, yeah! Me and Minho were-" She didn't even get to finish before Min-Jun shot her a bored look. She nodded softly. She had learned to shut up when he told her too. She didn't wanna make him upset. Changbin saw this. He squinted. He took a deep breath. "Min-Jun. Been a while." He hummed. "Yeah. Works been a hassle." Min-Jun answered shortly as he sat himself down at the table.

Hell, the guy didn't even try to act like he cared anymore. He knew he had (y/n) wrapped around his finger tight enough, that any change in his behavior would be brushed off. Or she just kept quiet about it, not wanting to make him angry or annoyed. The air was so thick you wouldn't even be able to get the knife in it to even cut it..

It was all small talk before dinner was set out. Everyone ate quietly. Chan and Changbin shared a look.. They members had definitely talked about something without (y/n) present. (y/n) cleared her throat. "When is your guys' next schedule? You've seemed to be slacking recently," Min-Jun spoke up, leaning back in his chair. "We aren't slacking." Seungmin huffed, almost offended by his wording. "Min, that's not what he meant." (y/n) defended. "Mm.. Debatable." Min-Jun took a bite of his food.

(y/n) blinked at the comment. "Yikes." She mumbled. Changbin finally set his utensils down. "I think you should go, Min-Jun." He said seriously. Min-Jun blinked. "Sorry?" He laughed. "I didn't do anything!" He scoffed. "Don't act stupid, I said you should go." Changbin repeated. He never acted like this. He usually had at least a little bit of patience. What the Hell was his problem? Min-Jun. Min-Jun was his problem. "Changbin, stop-" (y/n) grumbled.

"No! (y/n), i'm done with this guy!" Changbin was furious. "He's using you! We all see it!" Changbin finally said. He didn't even care about the stupid comment about them slacking. He was pissed about the fact that Min-Jun sat here and did this to their girl, thinking they wouldn't see it! Did he think they were stupid?! Min-Jun rolled his eyes. "Everyone sees it but you, (y/n)!" Changbin added. (y/n) stared. She took a deep breath. She slowly turned to look at Min-Jun who just leaned back in his chair. He rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. "I'm not doing this." He scoffed and stood up. (y/n) was quick to follow him to the door.

This was definitely not how this was supposed to go. Not at all in fact. But then again, she couldn't just let him leave. Not now. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on? If maybe her members warnings were right. "Don't you dare open the door." She growled. "Are.. Are they right?" She asked.

Min-Jun sighed and shook his head. "I said I'm not doing this, (y/n)." He growled. "Bullshit! Are you using me or not!?" (y/n)'s voice cracked as she slapped his chest. She was frustrated. "What the hell?" Min-Jun glared down at the shorter woman. Her members stayed in the dining room.. Chan and Changbin were standing, ready to run out there and beat his ass if he laid even a finger on her.

"You've been acting really weird recently, and I'm sick of it." (y/n) said in a lower tone. "What's wrong? Please i-" She reached for his hand, but Min-Jun pulled away. "We're done, (y/n)." He spat. It felt like her whole world crumbled. "Wha-What?" She choked. "I said we're done." Min-Jun scoffed. "I never loved you. I honestly just wanted an arm piece to show off to my parents." He admitted. That was only half of it.. You could only imagine what he had been doing behind her back.

Everyone heard it. The boys' faces varied from sympathetic looks to ones of pure hatred and anger. "But.. But you- The gifts.. And the cards?" (y/n) tried to understand. "Yeah, to make you stay longer. I couldn't have you catching on too soon." Min-Jun shrugged. He patted her head. "Thanks for the time with you, doll," He pinched her chin lightly. It was more of a mocking thank you than anything else. It wasn't till the door clicked shut that (y/n) choked on a sob.

Chan went to rush to her side, but Changbin was quicker. "Hey, hey, jagi," He pulled her into his chest. His voice and expression was so much softer than it had been moments ago. (y/n) sobbed and gripped onto her best friend. She felt like she had just been ripped apart. She felt so fucking stupid! She felt humiliated! Changbin hushed her and rubbed her back.

He scooped her up and walked to her room. He gently sat on her bed, cradling her to his chest. "(y/n) breathe." He said. (y/n) whined at him, coughing from how hard she was crying. "(y/n), you're going to give yourself a panic attack, breathe." Changbin sat her up and faced her to look at him. "Yo-You guys were right i-" She sobbed. "I'm so stupid-!" She hiccupped. Changbin shook his head. "No. No you're not stupid, (y/n). You didn't know." He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs.

(y/n) shook her head. "But you guys told me! You tried so-so many times to warn me, and I ignored you!" She whined. "But that's okay! It takes a mistake to learn something, alright?" Changbin hummed. "We're not mad at you. We just want you safe and happy." He said. "Plus, he was a little weird anyways.." He made a face. That did get a little giggle out of (y/n). She sniffled and wiped her face. "Yeah.. He was a little more than weird." She huffed.

"Listen, name one good gift this guy got you!" Changbin leaned back, already in the shit talking position. "You told him your favorite flowers were tulips and lilys, this guy got you one single sunflower," He rolled his eyes. "That one time he got me a card and it was a mothers day card. He hadn't even written anything in it." (y/n) sniffled as she messed with her hands. "He wasn't good for you, jagi." Changbin tilted his head at her slightly.

"You deserve so much better than that." He said softly. "Next time you decide to date someone, me and Channie Hyung are doing a full background check on that guy." He grinned. (y/n) laughed softly and shook her head. "I think I'm done with men for a good while." She hummed. Changbin squinted. "Besides you guys, duh." She rolled her eyes.

Changbin hummed and gently pulled her back into his arms and laid down. He pet her hair. "I'll make sure nobody ever hurts you like that again, (y/n)." He whispered into her hair. "Thank you, Bin.. For looking out for me." She hushed. "I'll always look out for you, my jagi." He kissed her head. (y/n) was so emotionally exhausted.. She closed her eyes and cuddled into Changbins side.

She relished in the comfort of his arms and the sound of his heartbeat. She opened her mouth to thank him once more but a soft snore made her pause. She sat up slightly, looking at his sleeping face. Did he just...? She guessed he was tired too. He had been up a while, since he had his morning workout. He guessed being angry didn't help at all either. She hummed before she cuddled back into him. She didn't take much longer to follow him to sleep.

The next day, she would apologize to the others.. She would apologize for bringing him over without really asking. Or backing up his snarky, mean comments towards them. She felt awful for how blind she had been. But none of them were mad at her. Chan agreed with Changbin, that to learn from a mistake, you have to make one.

Felix and Hyunjin had even bought her some of her favorite snacks and such to comfort her. Hyunjin even bought her a bouquet of her favorite flowers.. Tulips and Lilys.. Not a sunflower. God, she loved them so much. She was glad to have her older brothers there to comfort and protect her. She didn't need a stupid boyfriend as long as she had her best friends.. 

...

horrayyy!! i finally got to this request! i'm so so sorry it took so long again. I did accidently slide a little out of the plot, but i hope you still like it! muah muah!! have a good day/nightt! stay safee!

all writing rights are reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[rainy-weather-supremacy]

My thoughts/ideas on a TMA musical

(If anyone wants to help me with this it would be apprechiated 😭😭)

(Under the cut because it's kinda long)

Act I: Introduction, Prentiss & Shenanigans A

Act II: Shenanigans B; Unknowing & Shenanigans C

Act III: Door and Eyepocalypse

TMA important plot points

Act I

Jon hates Martin

Bicon Tim!! 💖💜💙

Prentiss

Michael (Sasha & Helen)

Not!Sasha

Rip Gertrude

Paranoia

Homophobic vase

Table

Leitner

Wanted :(

Georgie & Admiral

Jude

Mike & Daisy

Elias is evil???? 😱😱😱

Act II

Kidnapping

Helen

Jon & Tim trauma 😃👍🏽

Unknowing

Rip Daisy

Zzzzz

Melanie 🔪

Non-Human

Bone 🦴

Oh hey Daisy! :D

🔪👁 Melanie uhoh

Lukas & lonely

Jmart (Cows)

Akt III

Eyepocalypse

Kicking the asses of various Avatars

Martin 😶‍🌫️😭

Rip Daisy 2 electrical boogaloo

Salesa

Tower

Annabelle (But musical plot)

Rip boys 😭🥲😔🫡

Stuff

Peter only shows up at the end when he has to, other than that he is either not there or poorly hidden. He doesnt want people to see him.

Annabelles plan is for a musical instead

Jon feeds on the applause after a number

Not!Sasha always loudly declares to the audience that she is Sasha and that the other actor is…. Taking a break. :)

Jon and Tim sing about their childhood trauma (Daisy: I killed a man when I was eleven. Jon and Tim: 😟 [End song]) 

Unknowing is Nikolas villain song

Worm song

Statements are short songs Jon/Statement givers burst out into

Elias interruping Jon‘s song abt how he is finally happy (😭) and forcing him to sing a duet with him in mag 160

Annabelles evil song sounds like she's a grade 2 teacher and explaining why pandas are bears or whatever. Yeah that but she keeps starting out easy and then gets too complicated quickly so she has to start again

Distortion pops out of random doors that led to entirely different places just before and after

Helen slams the door into Michaels face when she enters and he dies(™️)

The 'crawls and chokes and blinds and falls' part is a rap

Helen falls through the trap door floor when she dies (maybe?)

Toothrotting Jmart fluff. I can do what I wnat tbis is my musical

Sad ending

One or more person sees the audience (Elias; Anabelle; Jon (as the pupil); Not!Sasha; Helen; More?)

While Jon is in a coma, calm music plays. There is screaming in the background and Melanie running around with knifes, first being chased by something and then chasing something. Both she and the thing leave through Helens door, who waves to the audience and then closes the door in a cool way

Mag 100 is a short comedic intermission you only understand 1/5 of

Every time Jon enters the stage after leaving, he is in slightly worse condition

I open the door immediately before the 2. pause bc big applause (When he says it the doors open for the break?)

Paranoid Jon song: I see you

End of S4 song: I see you (Reprise) [I know who you are / I'll find you out] vs [I know who you are / I'll find you and I'll get you out]

All the fears have a specific instrument assigned to them

Before the first pause, Elias is alone on stage for a moment, turns to the audience and bows. With the applause, a eye appears on/over him by projector

Spotlight as a symbolisation of the eye, something that might be seen as a blessing but becomes a curse if unwanted. It turns on during statements etc and in the tunnels, it's a flashlight instead because they are illuminating themselfes. You walk and the light that shows where you are follows. Running from the spotlight.

Beginning, to audience: You are an eye. Watching over the people if the world for ages yet, there are a few people that stand out to you. Here's one that will become important to you soon. (Cue curtain open to reveal Jon at his desk going 'one, two, one, two, test, test'.)

Ending, to audience: You are an eye. You have watched this world for a long time, but now, it's time to go… somewhere else. (Before bows)

S4 Lonely song called 'no one but you' where Perter is like 'you have no one but you' and Martin agrees and sings along but when Peter is gone he thinks of Jon and sings it in a way that 'you' is Jon like "I have no one but you".

The people who get smited (smitten?) see the audience and are horrified

When people get smitten, a bright spotlight focuses on them and a soft green one on Jon

Akt I

Beginning, first statement (Maybe it's only kind of a rhyme, not a full-on song yet)

More statements & Introduction to the Archival assistants (Martin is introduced first so that he's absent for the rest of the song) (I'm so smart) (Here we can probably also establish that Jon hates him and that Tim is bi?) (Also Melanie shows up for the first time)

-> What about combining those first two points and making like. An archiving song 🤔

Martin storms in with the worms in a jar (That in one scene, cut to a person going "youre saying that… [plot]?")

Sasha meets Michael and Jon first Helen, then Michael as well (A kind of spiral song)

Attack von Prentiss (Worm song)

Sasha gets killed & replaced (Maybe do something meta with the actors here, or just someone that looks completely different shows up wearing a 'the real sasha james' shirt?)

Martin finds Gertrude's corpse, notices the alarm is over and Jane is defeated. Does kind of a weak 'oh… I- I guess it's over' and stumbles away

They meet back up in bandages, not!Sasha is like "YES IT'S ME! SASHA!!!"

Jon's talking to the tape recorder like 'Idk I feel like somethings's wrong' and stalks on the archival assistants who are just like. Drinking tea. Talking. Doing work (or not). Meanwhile Sasha is in the background doing the most obvious and sus shit which he always just barely misses

Jon concludes that someone wants to kill him and sings abt it (I see you)

The song has an interruption with the others coming in for the intervention (And he only gets more paranoid after)

1 or 2 more statements are being read out during the song (or just the title/s said?)

He realizes that it's not Sasha by listening to a tape. In it, on the other side of the stage, Sasha and Tim are talking.  Not!Sasha tries to use her body to stop the audience from seeing this, but fails bc thats not really possible (walks around back and forth waving her arms so she doesn't acually block it for someone the whole time y'know?)

He says a final time "I see you" and the song ends

Jon destroy the table, Not!Sasha and Michael show up

Leitner uses the book to conjure up magical spirits (stage crew) and move the set so u cant see Not!Sasha anymore, which makes her mad but oh well

He starts to explain but mid-song Jon 'goes outside' and Elias comes in, finishes the song in an EVIL (😨) way and turns to the audience, puts a finger to his lips and leaves

Jon comes back and is like 'o shit' and runs away off-stage

Daisy and Basira come by to interrogate everyone (Show here Jon is wanted by police)

He stays at Georgies, who is cool, and pets the admiral

Jon sings a statement abt how Jude is dangerous and decides to pay her a visit. What could go wrong?? He leaves.

Melanie gets hired (Mention that she got shot by a ghost)

Jon's back from Jude and he has a burnt hand but is also on his way to Mike Crew- Surely he cant fuck this one up!

He visits Mike, fucks it up

Daisy kills Mike (rip) and wants to kill Jon but Basira is like wtf and stops her murder song before she can (Something like Get away with this?)

They all confront Elias an he is actually…. E V I L ?!???!!?? 😱😨🤯

Akt II

(First MAG 100?)

For the kidnapping, probably start with him kidnapped and then Michael shows up and is like "Wow Archivist u fucked up I cant believe EVIL SKIN STEALING DOLLS KIDNAPPED YOU AND WANT TO [plot]"

Helen shows up and slams Michaels door in his face and is like 'cmon lets go'

We need to stop the unknowing guys

Tim confronts Jon (Do not ask me what this means all I know is that here we establish they have beef)

Jon & Tim trauma song

They somehow find dynamite. Maybe one more short statement here as well?

They go to the wax museum and there is talking

Nikola villain song (aka unknowing) that ends with Tim being smug and also exploding. During the song there is a brief segment to what each of the characters is going through

The Martin also has to be somewhere here 🔥📃

Jon is in a coma and the Melanie/Weird stuff chase scene

Oliver comes by and he wakes up

They still dont like him

Oh so Martin is working for Mr. Evil man and also Tim and Daisy are dead?!

Statements

(Idk what happens here? Stuff ig???)

Melanie operation (Gone wrong‼️)

Jon realizes he's not really human anymore, which he kind of knew but still he comes to the conclusion that it sucks and therefore so does he (bestie please)

The coffin is delivered

He goes straight into Helens hallways and comes back out with a rib. While he's gone, Martin passes by briefly and we see how lonely he is.

Jon goes into the coffin and finds Daisy which is a song for sure

They come back out and Basira and Daisy are like 🫂

The Dark??

Jon finds out how to leave

Lets gouge our eyes out scene

Melanie gets her eyes' ass and goes away to kiss Georgie (Shes just like "guess ill go get rid of my eyes & kiss my girlfriend byyyeee")

Statement that is interrupted/just after it the hunters come and Jon is like "oh no the hunters from my trip to america" basira/daisy: "when were you in amerika???" Jon: "That time I came home and you said I smelled like guns. Anyways panik."

Daisy goes wolf mode very dramatically after Jon runs off stage to find martin

Elias and Peter (who we finally really ses) reveal the evil plan to Martin who is like "how about no" and then tries to stab Peter (or something like that idk) but there is fog and he is gone

Jon storms in like "MAHTIN!"

The lonely scene with the song

They are in a nice house and it's cool and fluffy

Martin leaves for milk and cows

Jon sings abt how he's finally happy and Elias gets his smug bastard ass in there and forces him to dance along and sing a duet and to fucking rap oh my god this is a crime (After all this time)

It ends with "I- OPEN- THE- DOOR!" as all the door out of the room open

Akt III

Jon goes into a song about the safehouse but Tim and Sasha sing a duet in the background 

They decide to leave

Helen shows up like the bothersome creature (/aff) she is

They meet the Not!Them

Smiting song, which is mostly action-packed but there's four parts and the third is MAG 165 (Not!Them - Jude - Lonely house - Jared)

Hunt song starting with Trevor and ending with Daisys death

Uptown house (Either off-stage or Salesa starts trying to sing a song but they faint and he complains when the lights go out)

Martin sings a duet with himself 

Jon kills real estate agent, which starts off as a statement but that one woman derails it

Short song abt the Eye & London

Song abt and/or by WTG about their cult where they 1) love each other and 2) deny being prophets whil the cultists sing a chorus about how great the prophets are

Jmart visit Jonah & Jon sings about how he could make things better in his place and gets more & more enthusiastic until Martin interrupts him and they fight (through song?), ending with Martin storming away

Jon sings abt how he knows what's best / Annabelle sings to Martin that she can show him what's best

Jon notices that Martin is gone and goes after him in a boat. (While he's rowing, Fight Song starts going "like a small boat… on the ocean….." and then Basira shows up and climbs in his boat and stops the song (shoots the speaker?) /hj)

Annabelle villain song in which she also explains the rift ("You've grabbed something/someone's attention" while looking directly at the audience. Jon, Martin & Basira follow her gaze but don't see anything) + for sure do the "You have no idea who's listening/watching, do you?"

They talk about what to do & vote that they'll follow Annabelles plan, much to Jons distress. (Make what they want to do very clear here)

Jon goes up, song where he gets his revenge (& ascends)

When he becomes the pupil and the song stops, Jon really looks around and sees the audience & goes kind of "What… Who- Who…? O-Oh. Oh." and stares at them before getting distracted by Martin arriving, who can't see them

Martin arrives and they talk and find what they have to do

Short but bitter-sweet last song together

Ending

Bows

[themotherofblood]

Ruie, my dear, I was re-reading "The Dragon and The Dancer" and if you are still writing/accepting requests can I get a prequel(before the events of "laut ke ajana") where she dances for Daemon (with some nsfw) please?

ugh first of all, I hope your pillow is always cold, your charger cords never break and may you find money on the streets just for funsises.

second of all!!! Saaiyan Hatto Jao would be such a fitting song, of Dancer seducing Daemon so let’s go!

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Wife!Reader

tw: exhibitionism? kinda misogynistic but bare with me pls 🤭 clit play, fivesome(kinda), breeding kink, humiliation, oral m and f receiving. mf(fff), mentions of underage stuff ekkk

main masterlist

In whatever capacity Daemon had within himself to restrain himself from his pretty wife was surely a bravery the Maesters ought to write in books. He had graced the courts of Lys multiple, multiple times. That's where he’d found Mysaria all those years ago. She was a whore, and dancer but a whore. He visited the city twice in his youth, in all his glory mounted open the ominous visage that was Caraxes yet not once was he esteemed enough to watch the infamous courtesans of Lys. Those women, wretched but entrancing women who invited the ones their hearts pleased, unlike any other establishment that would let in anyone with a coin to throw.

Imagine his surprise when an enticing swan from that very establishment had been under his nose this entire time, part of him cursed himself for not seeing it earlier. Something of such enchanting breeding couldn’t have simply come from the loins of Qoren Martell, and knowing your parentage was from Lys. If you weren’t already an insatiable spirit, Daemon pawed at your skirts even more now. He knew that the matter of you dancing was rather sensitive since your mother’s passing and he would never impose himself onto you otherwise.

Yet it couldn’t help taunt the perverse within him, such was the beauty of the Lysenees courtesans. To entice a man wild with just the melody of their voices and the ancient craft of their dance. Many a man with pockets deep enough to raise kingdoms lost their prospects at the doorsills of these bewitching girls.

You spoke of it at length with him once, sat in a warm bath overlooking the sunset, how esteemed of a pupil you were and come of age, your introductory performance had carriages lined for ten streets. Should the time have come, you might have even become the Madam of the establishment with age. The more you excelled in your art the more you feared of never leaving that place like your mother had wished for you. You not once loathed dancing, you hated the politics— you hated how wars began at the backs of courtesans partaking in spying against the very lords they once served to backstab and plot away at every chance they got for their survival. You rather missed the morning singing lessons and the sounds of your sister's anklets running up and down the halls.

“You keep such things from me,” Daemon muttered against your bare shoulder, peppering kisses up to your “You sing?”

You nodded, lifting your head to look at him with a sheepish smile.

It wouldn’t take a lunatic to envision your sweet voice singing away… singing just for him. He tried, he tried so very hard to not let his twitch cock at the thought of it, he was sure you felt it.

“What am I to do with you.” He groaned.

For a wish he had dreamt of since he was near seven and ten, no amount of gold named to the second Targaryen prince would get him inside that establishment, not after he had claimed Caraxes— a magnanimous beast that could burn all those witches in there all at once and not even after aiding the Free Cities with its odd brawls with one another.

And here the damned gods had blessed him with his wish, perched upon his lap. Eager to please him, vowed to obey and be with him till death do them part. Curious how the world worked.

You were no fool, like an animal in rut you had felt Daemon’s demeanour change since the day he discovered you were an untouched courtesan and caught you dancing in the Mirrored Palace alone. You were no stranger to the allure and aura that followed from being who you were, or who your performative personality is.

There is no harm done you thought, you had no joy in dancing for the men at court yet the sound of perhaps performing— truly performing for your lord husband seemed titillating.

It was the conditioning perhaps, to have a noble lord claim a courtesan all to himself, it showed one of two things. A lord with immensely fat pockets or a woman worth nearly a kingdom and its cavalry.

What were you worth? A fucking dragon-lord, a kingdom can’t be worth much if it’s ash. With your children most likely inheriting dragons too, you would by comparison must have outshone all your sisters back in Lys. Such fortune all for a pretty song and the swaying of one’s hips.

When Daemon had told you about is escapades in Essos, especially of how many times the poor prince had tried to gain an audience at your former court. You internally giggled at the picture of a young Daemon clamouring like the rest with gifts and praises to win the attention of your house Madam at the time. Even when he returned with a dragon he was barred, and it wasn’t unusual. Your Madam enjoyed playing with fire, toying with how far she could push men just to catch a glimpse of one of her girls.

Come to think of it, she might have been trying to grasp for an invitation to the Old King’s court, set up an establishment in King’s Landing. But one thing you’d learned from the stories Daemon told you about King’s Landing. Much of the courtesan's work would be polluted by the lack of affection for its craft.

You couldn't deprive him so, not when he paid you handsomely, ravishing your body each night like a silent prayer. Even having seen you, felt you and taught you things that would go beyond the means of a courtesan’s work. You saw the passion in his eyes when he’d find you fixing your ghungroos or humming under your breath as you worked on your needlepoint. The tests of a true Madam now laid at your feet, not only to devise an elaborate function for your dear husband but to be discreet and the most essential part of it all, for you to be perfection.

You’d pick the night of the coming full moon, you knew your father would have grumbled himself to his chambers rather early, the change in tides somehow always made him ill. Your sisters would all be abed, Daemon’s daughter’s too. The commendable part were your lady’s maids, pussyfooting away orders of flowers from Pentos, the special vials of rose oil from Qarth, at least a hundred candles to light up the arched viewpoint at the Watergardens. Daemon’s favourite foods to be prepared along with fine strong wines from the Old Palace cellars.

The intricacies of this function had been handled with such care and secrecy, that it made you consider moving into the manse your father had gifted you after your wedding for some privacy. Surely, a married— happily married couple engaging in salacious acts with one another shouldn't be unexpected. Lastly your lehenga, unlike the ones you usually wear, was truly a magnificent piece made by the dressmaker. A black velvet blouse with a dangerously low neckline and shoulder embroidered with dragons of red and gold threads, a lighter skirt of silk with heavy gold embroidery and embellishments and a chiffon embellished shawl that did nothing to hide your figure.

Another ruse was set up to hide your true schemes, a quaint supper with just you and Daemon being entertained by folk singers sent by Yi Ti.

The evening had been rather splendid, Daemon had no interest in listening to some fucks sing about in a tongue he understood not, but when his sweet wife insisted upon spending the evening together: he couldn't deny you.

He suspected that you were up to something, with supper being prepared, dishes lined up one after the other which were all those he shamelessly indulged in, the rather aged wine that you had been consuming a little too much of. He did not mind, either way, fucking his wife tonight sober or a sweet slobber mess— all was well in the world. After what seemed like a while, Daemon finally felt at ease, calm with a purpose that he belonged, with his daughters and you.

“Excuse me, dearest.” you whispered against his ear, smiling before pecking his cheek “I’ll be back.”

Daemon smiled back, watching you rise from the floored cushions that the both of you nested on, his eyes very shamelessly admiring your backside and the curves of your hips as you walked back into your quarters. He marvelled at the thought of ripping that very lovely maroon gown of your body. The colour change had been a sudden shock to him when you fluttered your way into the sparring wards in a Dornish gown painted in the dark crimson of his house’s colour. Rest assured the sparring continued later in the evening and the gown alas did not survive.

You had slipped out easily, just as the doors closed behind you, the lot of you bolted the opposite direction to your privy and down the hallways, skirts hiked up as you used your other hand to free your hair of the loose Westerosi braids they were in. Your maids ran with you, two of them already waiting by the Watergardens along with the the whore dancers you had acquired all outfitted in white and the esteemed musicians that played at every one of your events.

Hiding behind the thick shrubbery, your maids hastily stripped you off your gown and small clothes and replaced them with the ensemble made for tonight. You prayed to the gods while calming your breath from all that running, let it be perfect. The four girls would greet Daemon upon his arrival, even though they would be a finer treat than most men have had in this lifetime, you were another anthology entirely.

Daemon had been given his first clue after the Yi Ti performers had finally ended their never-ending song.

“The princess awaits you in the Watergardens, my prince.” the attendant had informed before scurrying away.

Whatever this was, Daemon was truly intrigued seemingly obeying his wife and heading straight out of the gardens without any delay. The show that greeted him there however had him taken aback for a moment, the garden pillars decorated in blossoms and twinkling candles scattered across the stairs leading to the arches. He could hear the mellow music and the serene sound of flute dancing along with the crashing waves.

Just like a dream come true, he was greeted by the sound of ghungroos— a sound he had grown accustomed to. Four girls rushed towards him, lifting their hands to their faces and bowing.

“Good evening, my prince.” one of them spoke.

“We have longed for your arrival, your grace.” said the other. Reaching forward for Daemon’s hand.

At any other time he might have pulled away, but this was surely orchestrated by his wayward wife. He could feel her around but couldn't see, and these girls— preening up at him like willing, wanting whores, they were no courtesans. He played along, letting them drag him along to the shore view where an elaborate arrangement awaited him. An old fire in him arose when his reputation had been so palpable at the many brothels across the Known World. Two of them pushed him onto the plush sete, giggling as one of them plops right next to him.

“Would you like some refreshments, my prince.” One of them said with a bunch of grapes in her hand, the other poured him a glass of wine. The third took her time feeling Daemon up, he thoroughly enjoyed this but longed for his wife— his courtesan. One of them began to unbutton the tops of his doublet, soft fingers trailing across his chest.

His sexual frustrations and anticipation began to pivot to a perverse ire, to find you hiding somewhere and reprimand you with your arse red for teasing him so.

That is when the sound of a heavier set of ghungroos echoed around the arches, there you were. Your glowing face against the moonlit sky and candles, you walked towards, body covered in a thick black shawl. The girls around him lifted their skirts and ran towards you, positioning themselves. Then came the music, a smirk so prominent settled itself on Daemon’s lips as his lifelong dream had now stood in fruition before him.

You seductively, inch by inch let the black shawl drop until it fell to the ground, looking at the shawl and suggestively looking up at your husband. You twirled thrice forward, ending right by Daemon’s legs and lowered yourself. He knew not of what you sang but it was as though a witch chanted spells to bind him to you.

The song you sang was one of innocence, a sweet girl begging her lover to let her return home— for the higher the moon rose in the sky her reputation hung by a thread. Ever so seductively telling him to stay away because she knew his true desires were so very impure.

Stay away my love, I know what you desire

You reached for the rose tucked in your blouse, reaching lower to gesture at your ghungroos, giving Daemona a rather exposed view of your bosom. You acted as if his looking had offended you and flicked the rose at him, you stood to continue your routine still singing without a note or beat missed. You knew within that you were perfection, it is what you were trained for from birth. This one performance should have costed half of Pentos, but look upon Daemon’s eyes was payment enough for you.

Night fades to dawn my love, please let me go home

You pulled your shawl of your head and down you your shoulder, toying with it around your cleavage. Eyebrows suggestively scrunched at Daemon, making him kiss the rose you gave him and throw it back at you which you caught with ease, letting the petal graze upon your cheek and then your lips lowering it further down the sides of your torso and tucking it this time at the lining of your skirt. You turn your back towards him swaying you hips as you walked away, turning once to wink at him and continuing to walk until the hardest part of the number began.

The percussion beats could never be missed by your feet, in a performative haze you smiled at the three dancers who also did an extraordinary job at keeping up with you. You turned one last time.

My mother and sister by law shall poke, where had I been, my love. I will die of embarrassment

You walked towards him this time, an exaggerated sway in your hip as you pulled your shawl out from your skirt lining and let it fall to the floor, you turned once more, performatively reaching for the back strings of your blouse and pulling them to mimic a sensual morning stretch. You turned towards your husband who had settled himself further into the cushion.

You kept singing as he reached his hand out, you took it letting him pull you onto his lap. Your soft finger held his face as you kept singing, leading his face towards your neck and he wasted no time in peppering kisses down your collarbone. You pushed him back there after which startled him, you could feel the hardened mound under his breeches— your payment.

Stay away my love, I know of what you desire.

Daemon had enough, still letting you finish your song, your eyes and eyebrows still expressing away your performative feelings as he reached for your Nath and removed it, a significant indication of deflowering a young courtesan.

Your song ended as you sat straddled upon Daemon’s lap, you gaze never left his— like you were another person entirely. Daemon relished in how he intimidated you, how shy and small you were around him, how receptive but innocent you remained even when he taught you to pleasure him and yourself in bed. Yet this woman sat atop him, you were someone else.

“Was it everything you ever dreamed of, my prince.” Your whispered, your hands caressing his face.

Daemon for a moment couldn’t find his words, that’s when you snapped from your performance growing anxious from the silence. You were about to pull away when Daemon abruptly spun you down onto the cushion so he lay towering over you, caging you under his broad build.

“How am I to pay you, my lady,” he said, wanting to rip the clothing off your body but he looked behind to still see the four girls standing.

“They are yours tonight my prince,” you nervously, your aura slipping back to the former “As am I.”

At that Daemon held no restraint and laid siege upon your body, he figured the lasses could still dance as Daemon would take you apart under the moonlit sky.

You held nothing back, arching your back onto the onslaught of Daemon’s lips. Letting your fingers feel the remaining buttons of his doublet and pushing them off his shoulder. This time you pushed back, the heat on your cheeks so apparent for you’d never thought to be so forthcoming in bed before, Daemon always held the reins, placing you in positions he liked, teaching you ways to pleasure yourself.

Daemon grunted for a moment, fighting against the push of your hands before giving in, letting you lay him back down once more. You straddled him once more, this time slipping back into the seductive performance you’d laid out for him. Smiling down at him as you slipped your blouse off, slowly— inch by inch before dropping it next to you.

Daemon’s lips parted in a gasp, though his cockiness would credit his lessons for confidence in this matter. He was further crazed by how much you appeared to be enjoying doing this. He couldn't help himself, reaching up to tweak at your left nipple. You began to roll your hips against the hardening of his breeches, your bare cunt under your skirt pressed at the girth giving you just a small burst of pleasure.

You did Daemon of his tunic, your fingers tracing his battle scars as you reached lower, letting your lips press against his warm skin— letting yourself inch lower and lower as you shuffled off him.

You both yearned greatly for one another, nearly four moons into your marriage and the passions you shared for one another only seemed to reach further heights with each passing day. A fire that Daemon had lit within you burned so bright for him every day. One might think you were born to be with him, obey him.

Daemon watched as you undid his pants, pulling them down his legs and not once leaving his eyes, you were an ethereal sight, bare-chested with his gifted jewels shining at your neck— so prepared to service him. You reached for his cock and that's when he stopped you.

His hands trailed to your head of wild hair, gently tugging at it. “You want my cock?” he said. Eyes wild and waiting for your response.

You meekly nodded, sticking your tongue out just as he taught you to. Wasting no time further he pushes your mouth onto his cock, letting your head bob and suction at his length. You worked your tongue around his cock, the taste of him so familiar in your mouth. You whimper as he pushes in further breaching the back of your mouth and making your eyes water.

“Who would have thought it hmm, the finest girl Lys could offer kneeled like a whore for me” his words falsely degrading you sending shockwaves straight to you your core.

You whimper, this time willingly taking him deeper feeling your throat want to constrict as you pull up for air— he however stops you briefly before giving you relief. A string of salvia lingering on your lips. He wiped at the tears polling around the corner of your eyes.

“Take the rest of it off girl,” he demanded, eyes ravenous and impatient.

You gathered your bearing before standing once more, pulling at the waist string of your skirts with no haste to tease him yet again. You let your skirt fall as you caught onto the rose still tucked at your waistline. You kissed it and threw it at him. Every look, every action towards you seemed to have been pooling your cunt wet.

Daemon grunted, yanking you back onto him. His lips smacked against yours once more as he took a harsh hold of your tit with one hand while the other held you here. His actions were voracious, seducing your soul rather than your body.

You took matters into your own hands, unable to keep up with this game any longer and reached for his cock— gently rubbing the tip at you folds before lowering yourself onto him.

Daemon groaned into your mouth as you gasped, having never felt him so deep, you held onto his shoulder fingernails digging in.

“You're so deep,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the intrusion.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your arse pulling you further down and full of him. You felt so close, so one with him. You began to grind your hip, your neck cranked as Daemon’s head dipped lower to kiss your shoulders and up your neck.

“Such a fine prize aren't you, tell me how do I pay you?” he said bucking his hips up into you making you sqwak.

“D-dragonseed… I want your babes.” you whispered, head hanging in a wanting shame.

Daemon smirked, he had forever hoped to make you swell of his children but he never knew your sweet mind craved to be bred.

“Go on then, take what you want.” he rested back on to his elbows, bucking his hips once more to coerce you to keep going.

You rested a hand on his torso using it as leverage to lift your hips to bounce into his cock. Your snug cunt milking him to fill you. Your smaller legs weren't enough to lift you that far off his cock, but you tried nonetheless. Daemon reached for your cunny, his thumb began to rub circles onto your clit sending you into a frenzy— riding him with far more determination.

It felt good, so very good.

“How does it feel darling? How does it feel riding a dragon.”

You let out a strained giggle at that, still unable to help your childish mind. You kept riding him, Daemon’s lips restraining a smile too at your ill-timed humour. Earning you a sharp smack on your left tit.

“It feels so good, so deep.”

Your hips found a steady rhythm against Daemon’s fingers at your bundle of nerves. Your each bounce ore eager than the one before. Your tits bobbing and calling for equal attention from Daemon.

“My prince!”

You moaned, feeling that pinnacle ever so close as you chased it.

“I’m all yours,” you said unprovoked “a courtesan trained just for you.”

Daemon nearly lost his bearings at that, pinching your nipple harder. Seven Hells— he knew you were made just for him.

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your c- courtesan.” you cried, feeling so very close to completion.

Your thighs begin to shudder, he can feel them clenching— he lets go of your breast and grabs your hips in aid to feel you gush around him. A sudden pitched cry leaves your mouth as you tremble your bouncing coming to a halt as you fight to hold yourself up but Daemon’s fingers on your bundle of nerves don't stop.

He abruptly flips you over, readjusting you within a blink of an eye. Your bare body facing the dancers as Daemon’s solid wet-length rested on the curve of your ass.

“We could get your money’s worth,” he suggested nipping at your ear lobe, his demeanour shifted to the one of you loving husband. “We needn't—”

“I trust you.” you looked up at him, chest still heaving from your peak before and yet you always wanted more of him, more of his depravities.

So many fantasies, much to do.

He gestured them forward knowing they would take much time to shed their clothes, they were whores trained to dance.

All three of of them vulgarly bowed, giggling amongst themselves.

“My prince.” The chorus of their voice followed as they began their performance to reach for him.

He tutted— he’d die happy if he died tonight.

“Not me, her.” He ordered.

You looked back up at him, a curious flare in your eyes that was met with his top protruding at your sloppy opening once more.

The girls entirely shifted their attention onto you.

“Mhmm you have such lovely tits princess.”

“Such soft skin.”

“Such a fine figure, your grace.”

Daemon pushed into you once more, groaning and resting his head onto your shoulder. His palm curled around you neck pulling your back against his shoulder. He knew of the explosive pleasure you were about to discover, even more joy was that he would be the one giving it to you, a fine reward for my girl, the fruits of the lovely exhibition you'd put on for him.

He began fucking into you, small grunts and exhales lingered by your ear and what followed from there on had your mind scattered.

One whore settled on suckling your nipples, twisting and toying with the other. One muffled your moans with her lips upon yours. Your cunny was already sensitive but then you felt a sensation you never had before. The third girl kneeled by the nest and began to lick your bud.

“D— Daemon!”

The sensation so overwhelming you began to pull away, Daemon curled other arm firm around your torso to keep you in place as he continued rut into you.

“Feels good doesn’t it, my love?”

You could barely speak but you nodded, eyes shut feeling yourself so lost in every touch. One of the whores disappeared behind you, settling herself under Daemon to service his heavy stones.

He watched as the whores played with your tits, he too reach further up to tweak a pebble harshly between his fingers. You gasped at the burn of pain. The whore sucking at your teat came to your defence.

“Gentle my prince, breaking a thing so pretty isn’t fair”

“Not this one, her cunt is squelching around me.” he groans.

“Its true!” the girl by your cunt giggles.

Your cheeks burned in shame, they spoke of you like you weren't around. The whore licking your bud pushed at your folds to leave it exposed as she suckled and licked and rubbed away. Daemon’s cock fucked you raw from within and you felt it once more, hurtling towards.

“Go on, wet my cock my love.” he grunted fucking you harder.

His peak chased after as you broke first, gushing around his cock as you screamed his name. Legs and arms shuddering as Daemon grunted to completion himself, ropes of his spent coated your walls. You could feel the warmth within, nearly forfeited by your sensations. He held your body so close, recovering himself as he shooed the whores away.

Letting you collapse in the nest first and then himself. Laying soft kisses at your shoulder, still firmly holding your hand to ground you.

“Well done, my love.”

You lazily smiled at him, dazed in euphoria as you rubbed your feet against his calves.

“What have I done for fortune.” He whispered against your temple.

You shrugged at him, leaning forward to kiss him once more. “I hope you are pleased with my performance?”

Daemon shook his head, begging mesmerized by you. He let his hand rest at your belly.

“If giving you all this love,” he kissed your cheek. “My dragonseed,” he pressed onto you belly. “Isn’t indication of how very pleased I am sweet girl.”

Then you heard a high pitched squeal from the skies, clicks and then the rustle of trees around you. “Then perhaps I should show you what being a dragon feels like.”

Caraxes burst through the horizon behind your circling the skies as he lowered himself onto the white beach. You looked at Daemon puzzled, as he pulled you up to dress you.

“What are you doing?” You huffed putting your blouse back on.

“You want to have my children, it might be time that you grew accustomed to Caraxes.”

You kept dressing yourself to mask the fear that was coursing through your veins. I dance for him and he plans to kill me. You could barely muster the courage to be even ten feet around Moondancer and that beast was a babe. Caraxes is a behemoth, he protects your husband— he told you how the two of them were two halves of whole. It never made sense to you.

“Don’t be scared, halves of a whole remember?” he said as he bent down to lift you up by you back and legs once you finished dressing.

You’d rid yourself of your ghungroos just to not startle the beast.

“I love you, care for you. Therefore he does too.”

You weren’t sure about how sure he was about said theory. Yet you let him carry you to the beaches below where Caraxes sat waiting, when you saw him it almost appeared as though he was playing with sand. Shaking his snout it the sand to bury it and then exhaling to have sand fly everywhere, followed by loud clicks.

“Is he— is he playing?” You asked your husband.

“Told you, he’s harmless.”

That beast also burned dozens of Dornish men but alright.

Just as Caraxes felt Daemon’s presence he chirped up even more, his long neck swaying in the wind. However it only took a moment for his demeanour to flip when he realized there was another. You froze in Daemon’s arms at the low grumble Caraxes let out.

“Dohaeras Caraxes!” Daemon lowly warned the beast.

Caraxes still look unsure but Daemon kept walking.

He put you down a few feet from the beast, don’t run— don’t run. You watched as Daemon walked towards Caraxes without a care in the world that his wife might get fried tonight.

“Konir sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao gīmigon zirȳla syt izula hūra, keligon issare quba.” That is my wife, you have know about her for four moons. I told you.

Daemon sounded like he was scolding the dragon.

He turned to you “Come my love.”

You obeyed, talking small steps towards him. Towards his outstretched hand. Everything would be fine, you trusted him. Entirely— wholeheartedly, with your life.

Just until Caraxes turned his long neck and his snout just with a feet from you. You froze entirely once more, Daemon still petting Caraxes.

“Dohaeras,” he whispered, almost as if he spoke to a child.

Caraxes’s big nostrils flared, sniffing you a couple of time before chirping. Daemon chuckled, you relaxed for a moment until Caraxes gently used his snout to trip you backwards before once more burying his snout in the sand and deeply exhaling, burying you in a thick sheet of sand. Daemon couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter

“Daemon!”

You were going to great friends he knew it.

eeee I had so much fun writing this. I totally imagine Caraxes kinda being like jealous Lilly from modern family lol

[revelboo]

Rev's been inactive for 15 whole minutes, everyone panic! Call the honor guard! The navy! Superman even!

/LH /J

Pffft

I’m just hiding out over here writing TF stuff because the Twitter writing community seems to be actively on fire right now and I don’t have the energy to deal with it

Broken Arrow Pt 10

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Curling an arm around you when you go limp against him, it’s almost impossible to let go of your wrist and shatter that connection tethering him to you, but he finally manages to let go, feels your fingers slide through his spark, the pull as he loses contact urging him to curl himself tighter around you. Instead closing the plating protecting his spark, his servos unsteady as he stares down at you where you’re slumped against him, cheek against his shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, though he’s not entirely sure what he was thinking. Only that he’d wanted to feel someone touch him, he’d wanted to feel warm fingers stroking over his spark, holding and seeing him. All of him.

• Gripping your chin in his claws, he tips your head back. Your eyes are still closed and your pulse is slow when he strokes along the line of your throat, shifting your leash. Thinking about how you’d felt tangled in him, feeling you still, the connection new and fragile. Frightening. It’s not too late to end it, servos curling loosely about your throat even while knowing he won’t. He can’t when you’re all he really has that’s real, not plotting against him or scheming. That reminds him that he hadn’t always been the ruthless gladiator that had been born in that pit from pain and spilled energon. Staring up at the autocracy gambling on lives because everyone else had mattered so very little to them. Hating them and learning to be so much worse than they were just to survive. To throw them down.

• There’s a warmth coiled inside you, the thrum of something achingly familiar under your cheek and an arm curled around you, servos in your hair. That feeling is safety and home. Eyes opening at the soft clicking of a claw sliding back and forth over the length of your leash in Megatron’s fist, you try to figure out why you feel so exhausted. And then remember his servos gripping your wrist too hard, forcing you into contact with his spark, optics flickering that fitful purple from that crap he keeps taking. Everything after that kind of gets confusing as you flex your fingers and he looks down at you. Aware that he’s cradling you in his lap like a lover and of that scowl he’s aiming down at you. “Get off,” you mutter, trying to push against his chest and almost pitching backwards when he lets you. Scrambling out of his lap on unsteady feet, because it’s not just exhaustion, you feel off balance. “You jerk.” Because whatever’s wrong must be his fault. “What did you do?”

• Standing slowly to tower over you, he catches your upper arm when your legs almost fold under you and you slump against him. It’s not a full bond, not exactly. He can feel it in the way his spark is aching, wanting to reconnect. Needing more than a one sided bond, because he can feel the jarring wrongness of it. Knows that a spark bond is meant to unite, to twine two halves together. Meant to be between two willing sparks, not this mess he’s made. Your little hands are pushing at him again, trying to break away and he wonders what it feels like to you. Does it hurt you like it hurts him, a shard wedged in his spark?

• “Stop fighting me, pet.” That command isn’t his usual demanding tone or his teasing, it’s almost tired and very bitter as his arms press you closer despite your attempts to get away. Because the warmth and feel of him against you is suddenly too much, you’re overwhelmed with him. Needing him to back off, because you can’t think beyond the urge to be closer. Claws on your chin, forcing your head up to meet his optics again. Demanding your attention as he stares down at you, optics narrowing. “Primus.”

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[pomefioredove]

Hii!! May I please have a sugar cookie, #10, with sprinkles and whipped cream ?? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

this was painfully enjoyable, how I missed writing this little scamp...

order #10, sugar with whipped cream and sprinkles

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ honest

tropes: hurt/comfort, royalty AU characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is leona's younger sib for plot reasons word count: 1k

"Just throw it anywhere,"

You might as well have heard a ghost. The sound of your older brother's voice, and the sight of him standing in the foyer, is so startling you almost fall.

Leona never comes home for festivals. He hates these things. He hates you.

"Someone'll pick it up. Hey," his eyes are turned on you now. "Where's Falena?"

You must look like a gazelle caught in headlights. "Uh... um, out. He's doing the opening for the ceremony..."

"Tch. Of course,"

Leona rolls his eyes. He returns his dwindling attention back to the group of school uniformed students you almost dare to call his friends.

"Neji will bring your stuff up to your rooms. Don't break anything and don't get too comfortable- we're only here until the hotel can sort out our reservation,"

And he's gone. Not so much as a hello, or a how are you, it's been months?

Unsurprising. Leona and you have never been close. You're a decent amount younger, and he's... well... Leona.

You feel a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"We're just as surprised as you," Neji says. "The cloudcalling festival was one thing, but this, he came of his own volition for. Perhaps he's changed."

"I doubt it," you answer immediately.

"I suppose we won't know unless you talk to him."

Neji smiles and leaves you to attend to your new guests. You roll your eyes- that's Neji for you. The glue that holds your family together... or keeps you from tearing each other apart, at least.

You linger in the foyer, even after the guests have gone and it's only you and the whispers of the guards. They, of course, speak of Leona. Everyone always speaks of Leona. Never of you.

"Come back here!"

"Oop- 'scuse me!"

You come back to your senses just in time to dodge a flash of fur and beige.

Suddenly, there are two hands on your shoulders and two angry guards in front of you.

"Your highness. Step away from the thief," one says, hand on her weapon.

You look over your shoulder to the huddling "thief" hiding behind you, and he pouts. "I'm innocent!"

"He was snooping around the drawing rooms,"

"I didn't take 'anythin!"

You blink, and then dismiss the guards with a wave of your hand. They begrudgingly comply, and he sighs, loudly.

"I owe 'ya. I swear, the guards here would arrest me for breathing!"

He circles around to stand in front of you, and sticks out a hand. "The name's Ruggie. I'm with Leona,"

You cautiously take his hand and shake it, giving him your name and title. "Are you?"

"Oh, yeah. We're practically best buds. Attached at the hip, shishishi," he giggles. "Surprised he's never mentioned me. But, he's never mentioned you, either. I didn't even know Leona had a younger sib."

Of course. "He doesn't like me all that much. So, you know," you shrug.

Ruggie grins and begins wandering the foyer, opening drawers and going through coat pockets.

"Nah, he just doesn't like talking about his home life that much. He's kind of a private guy,"

He gets on his hands and knees and crawls under an 18,000 thaumark footstool.

You raise an eyebrow. "I suppose so. I'm sure he's at least mentioned Falena, though,"

"Oh, sure. But only when people ask. I guess people just don't ask about you,"

That comment hurts more than it should. How ungrateful your brother is. Always so bitter about being second when you're third, when you have so much less importance than him, when you aren't even remembered enough to ask about. You're a shadow in a shadow.

"I guess they don't,"

That had come out more bitter than you had meant it to, and Ruggie pulls out from under the footstool, a coin and a crinkled thaumark note in hand.

"Hey, listen, it's no big deal. Leona just doesn't like talking about things. Like, in general. He's kinda asocial,"

Ruggie pockets the change and stands.

"I've noticed," you mutter. "He's plenty asocial with me, too."

The boy is quiet. He gives you a one-over, and then sighs.

"Listen. Don't go around saying you heard it from me, but Leona... he's got his own problems. He's not avoiding you on purpose, he just... uh, he gets overwhelmed with this family crap- er, pardon my French. He's had it pretty rough at school this year. Wanting to bite your head off- that's 'nothin personal. He nearly killed me, too,"

You blink, somewhat taken aback with how... um, candid he was being. And that last tidbit of not-so-small smalltalk...

"...He what?"

"Total misunderstanding," Ruggie waves off your concern. "All I'm saying is, you shouldn't take everything at face value. Everyone's working an angle, right? Leona wants to seem scary, but he cares about people... in his own way."

Again, you're taken aback by how candid he is. It's like he doesn't even care that you're royalty, or that he's speaking of another royal so... casually.

"Are you working an angle, then?"

He grins. "Heh. I could be. Or I could the only person whose been honest with you in years. I guess it's up to you to decide whether you wanna call those guards back in here, or keep 'talkin,"

As much as that smug look on his face unsettles you... it feels like the weight in your stomach has passed. If only a little.

You smile back, slightly.

"Hey, freeloader. Stop mooching off my kid sibling, and get your ass up here. We're having a group meeting,"

You both look up the grand staircase to see Leona, hands on his hips. Ruggie grins sheepishly.

"What, I'm not allowed to have a civil conversation?"

"Not while looking at 'em like they're your next meal. Come on, I'm tired of being here already,"

Ruggie turns back to you with that same smug grin, his eyes lowered, and then he hurries up the stairs. Leona whacks him upside the head and drags him away by the collar, whisper-shouting something about you.

Again, you smile. Maybe Leona does care about you- in his own strange, older brother way.

Ruggie was honest with you, after all.