#away from fame and political stress

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[howdy-folks-its-showtime]

Practical and quiet yet quick to get frantic, the stress of managing the financial information of Joey Drew Studios clearly gets to Grant sometimes, especially when Joey has gotten himself excited over a promising new idea for a project. Perhaps he was long overdue a retirement, but Grant insists his paranoia is no symptom of old age and if there was anything he would hate more than long stressful investors meetings, it’d be not having something to stress about! Cause to him, if there’s nothing to worry about, it only means he’s forgotten something on the way to his desk.

Mr. Cohen’s paranoia streak is not restricted to matters about his job either, his husband Thomas of all people knows this. There are weeks where he seems to spend almost all of his time working and even in his off time Grant finds himself worrying about the studio. The man’s mind just seems to bombard him with constant worst case scenarios, with little instruction on how to prevent them. It’s usually able to be kept under control long as he takes a moment away from the cause of stress, but there are days those around Grant worry his paranoia could get the better of him in the wrong situation... Then again some of his coworkers give him plenty of reasons to be uptight.

One of them being Wally Franks, the young man’s reckless nature and actions sometimes make Grant feel he is either incredibly brave or stupid. In fact the way Wally acts reminds Grant of a younger version of himself at times; while he never was as social or loud, he knows the way foolish acts can land you in a hospital. Mr. Cohen does try his best to discourage Wally’s more foolish habits, like jumping down the stairs to save time, but the young man insists he will be fine. Grant knows that this time he will be, but there are days the only thing on his mind is the day he will gamble his life and lose.

Yes Grant will admit he has a habit of feeling responsible for his younger coworkers actions and he does his best to help ones like Wally get rid of bad habits, but his efforts occasionally read less as compassionate more as condescending. This has earned Grant the ire of folks like Shawn, who prefer their more relaxed approach to work from Grant’s tendency to overwork himself into a panic. Which while not untrue, is quite rude to say to his face and Grant finds it silly someone who occasionally drinks on the job thinks he’s doing so much better than him. The two disagree on a lot and while Grant does his best to be polite, there are many days the toy maker tests his patience...

With a sharp style, dread forming in the pit of his stomach and his extreme dedication to his work, Grant feels cautiously optimistic for what the future of Joey Drew Studios brings. He knows the way Joey is about new projects, his love for theater and dramatics but most of all the passion Mr. Drew puts into this studio. Despite his complaining and anxious rambling, Grant loves the studio, its staff and wouldn’t give it up for anything. After all, in this studio there's always big stuff coming, adventure and fame and the like.

[roblingoblin285]

Day 124: Stress positions (Out of Their Element)

in which the other staff members tie rob up and lock him in a cabinet. just for shits and giggles

Sage was a worrier. It came natural to them--it was the reason their citizens loved them so much. Every king before them was a political presence, in it for the power and riches and fame; Sage was kinder, and cared for the people above all else.

So when the young, traumatized boy Sage has taken under their literal wing goes missing for two days, they worry. They worry a lot.

And when they go to the servant’s barracks to ask around, they worry about the looks on the other’s faces when they hear Rob’s name.

They worry even more when they drag information out of one of the guards, rushing toward the storage room before their sentence is even finished. Two days. He’s been in there for two days.

Sage throws the cabinet door open and their heart plummets.

Rob is curled up against the far wall, hands and feet looped together with rope in a sort of hogtie. His hair was matted against his head, pale face littered with bruises. Rob’s eyes were shut, but Sage could see the shine of old tear tracks trailing down his face.

“Kiddo?” they whispered, voice cracking.

The boy’s eyes shot open and landed on Sage, tears filled them almost instantly, and before they could speak again he slumped sideways into their arms.

The king stood, cradling him close to their chest. “It’s okay,” they said quietly, tucking his head into their shoulder. “Everything’s fine, you’re alright now.”

Rob didn’t speak the entire way to their tower, only letting out muffled sobs into Sage’s robe. When they finally set him down on their soft bed, they made quick work of untying the rope binding him.

As the loops fell away Rob collapsed, whining as his sore joints stretched for the first time in days. Sage took his wrists gently, kneeling beside the bed as they massaged feeling back into his hands.

“I-I’m sorry, sir.”

Sage winced. They’d been expecting this, but the sound of his hoarse voice was worse that they’d imagined. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, sunshine.” Sage lifted a hand to carefully rest in Rob’s hair, lightly scratching the boy’s scalp. “None of this was your fault. 

Rob sniffed, wiping his eyes before more tears could fall. “I w-was so scared.” The king could have sobbed. “Oh, my brave boy,” they murmured sadly, pulling him into a hug. “I am so, so sorry this happened to you. I swear you’re safe now, okay? Everything is just fine.”

Thank you for reading! Asks are always welcome about anything, and I appreciate your support! If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please submit an ask or leave a reply. 365 writing challenge taglist: @stabby-nunchucks @whumpdreamz Fall From Grace + adjacent taglist: @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz Temporary taglist: @sapphobugz

[endlessly-cursed]

WW1- Conrad St. James

"𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙬𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚."

Name: Conrad Gustave St. James

Nicknames: TBD

Birthdate: 20th of December, 1887

Zodiac Sign: Saggitarius

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Half blood

Nationality: French Canadian

Physical Appearance

Hair: Dark brown, almost black

Eyes: Dark blue

Height: 1.88m

Weight: 92kg

Body Type: Strong, well-built, lean and flexible

Skin Tone: Fair

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): TBD

Background

Hometown

Conrad grew up in the French part of Canada, in the city of Quebec, where he grew up with a French immigrant mother and a Canadian father with French ancestry. He lived a comfortable life

Family

Mother: Roséline St. James, neé Delacour

From the famed Delacour family, she was constantly bullied at Beauxbatons for not being pretty enough, and always felt like a fish out of the water. After the political inestability drove her family out, they tried their luck in the French Canada and soon established themselves there. Roséline became a modiste and met her future husband through making a dress for her future sister-in-law

Father: Peter St. James

A well-known businessman, he seemed at first like the perfect husband and father... until Conrad followed him one night that he was out with friends to find him with another family outside the city in a small village. He was shocked and hurt, and immediately told his mother, who then dumped him on the spot and talked to the other woman, who was not aware. Things got worse when they found out she was a niece of the governor. The scandal went out when Conrad was just 19, and ran away to England, where he finished his degree in photography and journalism.

Eldest brother: TBD St. James (ancestor to the St. James twins)

Ilvermony

House: Thunderbird

Best Class: Charms

Worst Class: None

Boggart: Everyone at Ilvermony laughs at him for the scandal

Riddikulus: Their laughs are high pitched coughs

Patronus: TBD

Patronus Memory: Hearing Mystie laugh

Mirror of Erised: Having a normal life

Amortentia (what he smells like): Wood, pepper, recently baked baguette and expensive cologne

Amortentia (what he smells): TBD

Career

11-18: Student at Ilvermony

19-24: Student at Oxford College

24-26: Assistant professor in Eton college

26-31: Photographer and journalist during WW1

31-??: TBD

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Getting away from the scandal, getting his way, keeping Mystie safe and finding himself

Strengths: Adventurous, smart, academically gifted, cunning, is capable of bending the law to his will and master manipulator

Weaknesses: Shy and reserved

Stressed: Around bombings, when somebody asks about his family back in Quebec

Calm/Comforted: Making photographs and baking

Favorites

Colors: Grey, royal blue, emerald green and golden

Weather: Drizzle in the night

Hobbies: Dancing, cooking and reading

Fashion: Conrad dresses fairly nice, not too ostentatious nor too poorly. He has an overall good sense of fashion

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Mysteria 'Mystie' Charmsworth ( @potionboy3 )

Mystie and Conrad met during a case in the Great War. They discovered they were similar and made a great team, and decided to keep working together, finding her entirely fascinating

[MORE TBD]

Friends: TBD

Rivals: TBD

Trivia

After finding out about the affair, in a fit of rage, challenged his father to a duel. However, his father knew nothing and, while throwing random spells he had heard from his wife, hit him in the face with a spell, which reduced his eyesight, which made him wear glasses for reading and studying

After the scandal was uncovered, Conrad locked himself in a room and started reading law books, and soon found loopholes on where and how to bend the law to his will

After his parents divorced, he sought revenge by disguising himself as a friend of his that helped with the affair and threw him off the bridge and ran away shortly after

Despite looking shy and reserved, he has a wild side where he can be pretty bold and daring, and can manipulate and lie his way through with hardly any scruples

He also has a strong temper he keeps most of the time, but can be quite explosive

[studyblrbymaya]

study tip #1: eliminate. all. distractions!!!

i kinda find that on days where i don’t feel hugely motivated, i tend to make use of every single excuse that i humanly can so that i can study a tiny amount, or even not at all. whether it’s a random politics thing that i supposedly have to do, or a random book that i supposedly need to read, or a random rabbit hole that i find and investigate, needlessly, for 3 hours, i’ll try and go straight for the distractions. inevitably, these usually work how they’re supposed to, and i usually end up kicking myself at the end of what could have been an extremely productive, useful day. 

for me, i found that my main culprits are pretty much everything on my phone, random news stories on my laptop, hearing my family outside my study, and random thoughts about random things that i may or may not need to do, creeping into my head at extremely random points during the study session. i also tend to get quite fatigued if i’ve studied for longer than i can cope with. acknowledging all of my distractors is great: i’m self aware, and i know the reasons for which i’m unproductive. i don’t know if i have these in common with some people, or whether certain ones are quite exclusive to me, but here’s what i’ve found helps to stop my focus dwindling:

for my phone: it goes away!! if i’m studying downstairs, my phone is in my room upstairs. it’s always just out of sight and out of mind, and as such i’m not tempted to pick it up and doomscroll twitter (or the few tweets that i can, anyway... thanks elon for the stupid rate limits.) or randomly send my friend a gif of a dog which inevitably causes gif wars to begin as she fights back with ones of cats... if it’s not with me, it’s out of my frame of mind and i can be more productive. as for random websites: i set myself a challenge. i might say that i can only use 5 websites not related to my studies all day, or within a certain timeframe. if i’m having a day where i feel particularly distracted, i’ll usually let myself scroll through random things during the pomodoro breaks that i take, and abide strictly by the time limits of these breaks. that way, i feel fulfilled, my brain’s had a break from studying, and i’m also on task when i need to be!! in terms of hearing my family outside my study, it’s a quick fix. CLOSE THE DOOR!! no matter if they’re baking delicious food outside, no matter if they’re talking about the latest marvel show... i’ll close the door and focus on what i need to do. sometimes that’s hard, but i always remember to spend time with my family if i can, even if it’s just a quick conversation with them in the morning if i’ve got a particularly intense day of studying to do.  as for the random thoughts creeping into my head, i never knew what to do with these. they would make their way into my brain, lodge there, and grow and grow and grow as i tried to focus on the task at hand. instead of ignoring them, i now  acknowledge them. i tend to write them down on the whiteboard next to my desk, or on a random post it which i’ll then stick on a wall facing away from me. this means i’m not distracted, but also can attend to it, so i won’t forget about it and feel frustrated in any way.  in terms of the fatigue, using the pomodoro technique works wonders. on a usual day, it’s 60 minutes on to 10 minutes off, but if i’m struggling with what i’m studying or i’m feeling particularly stressed, i’ll sometimes send 45 minutes studying and 15 minutes on a break. my breaks are never static: i might go for a quick walk, i might talk through what i’ve learnt with a friend, but i’m strict with myself. i set a boundary that whenever the timer goes off to start the next session, i need to be there and i need to be ready to study. this means i can avoid games like ‘i’ll make it up later!!!’ (i never do) or the famed ‘well, i’ve wasted 5 minutes, might as well go chill for the whole session.’ (all that does is contribute to a lack of productivity.) that was an absolute rant and a half... i doubt anyone read all of that, but it’s a useful reminder for me, too... happy studying :)

[gazetotheabyss]

Sweeps Weak

Archie had, since he was but a young man, struggled with the ability to fall asleep. Truthfully it wasn’t until he’d grown and managed to climb his way free from lower-class poverty that he’d broken free into his first night of proper sleep. When he first got a television it was 1962. The first time he fell asleep in front of it was just before sign-off in the Spring of ‘68. Coaxed to sleep by a particularly arduous day at work, but comforted by the gentle monotone of the dead signal, and the soft image of his TV projecting the so politically correct RCA ‘Indian Head Test Pattern’. Waking only for the beckoning call of his alarm from upstairs, and the welcoming sound of the National Anthem signaling the start of the day. 

After that night he had trouble sleeping away from the couch. But as he grew into his middle ages, it became commonplace—Or rather, acceptable—To have a television in the bedroom as well. Something about that had made his life so much simpler. It became routine, and at about 8 pm every night he’d slink away to lay down for the night so that he may watch whatever late night host entertained him most that night and fall asleep before they even got to the second guest. Such was the way he slept and woke for years, always out before sign-off. A lonely life he’d lead, but he was happy enough. 

One peculiar night he found himself awoken at about two hours passed midnight to the singing of a crowd’s raucous cheer. So excitedly welcoming onto the stage a late night host he’d never seen before. Happily walking onto a set he’d equally never been privy to. Looking at his alarm clock, he’s rather vexed to see the time. Curious about the station airing so late... 

“Welcome back folks.” The charismatic man starts, his smile so boldly stretched practically ear to ear. Standing calmly center screen his suit is finely pressed, not a wrinkle or crease in a spot there shouldn’t be, he begins his monologue without a second’s hesitation. “The President was in town today—” Pause for reaction, but what should have been an adoring crowd is silent like the dead. Though the ever-charismatic host, in his handsome smile, lifts his hands still, as if to quiet their jeers and boos even though there were none to be heard. “--Hey, I know. I didn’t vote for him either. But he was in town this week to celebrate the bicentennial of our fine nation. Of the ceremony, the president and the fine men in his cabinet stressed the opportunity for renewal and rebirth for our country.” He reacts, again, as though there are a barrage of boos, the smile never once fading from his face. “Now, I say, that’s exactly the sort of thing I expected to hear from the man who pardoned Nixon.” Inaudible crowd clearly cheered with laughter. 

Now, Archie had never much been one to pay attention to whatever drivel he put on to go to sleep to, but he felt himself captivated. Wondering, idly, who could have possibly been the president this man was speaking of to have pardoned a president who had only just taken office a mere two years ago. Let alone celebrate an event perhaps a little under four years away. Sleep had vanished from his eyes, and he found the screen somewhat burned into his gaze, unable to blink let alone tear his vision away. 

“Oh, it’s gonna be another magical show, kids.” The host clapped his hands together, addressing the audience so informally, looking every which way about the camera except to stare dead into it. “I’ve got a great one tonight for you and the viewers at home. So, stay tuned, for musical guest tonight I’ve got ‘The Abyssal Horns’, movie star Anita Silver, and famed author--” The signal cut for a moment, glitching when the host tried to speak the name of whoever his guest was, in its place a horrendous shock to the ear of ungodly static before the host is back on screen. “And a very special secret surprise guest tonight. Stay tuned—I'm Hartly Baker, and everyone, you know I’m always-”  

And the audience, once silent, sings out in tandem when the title graphic comes to the screen. Monotone in their delivery. Grand applause. ‘Speaking from the Hart.’ He’d never heard of this show, but he found himself a captive audience member, despite its mundanity. Eyes were fixed upon the screen, expecting a commercial or two, there were breaks for them. But the screen merely faded to black and opened back up with the host suddenly at his desk. This must have been an old taping. Maybe they were testing a new reel system or something. Archie was never much for learning how the breadth of it worked as he was reaping the benefits of the product. This program was clearly some measure of political fiction, right? 

“Tonight, as always, I strive to bring you the most cutting and up to date entertainment I can. Our industry is ever changing, always in motion. Once there was a time when you could sit down with the children and watch some wholesome program, but now? We have sinned, our eyes beholding things that were only once nightmares. Exposed to this cycle and barrage of violence. Misery. Sex. Death. All at the click of a button. Gluttonously consuming with no question for our sanity—So I welcome our first guest, Anita Silver!” He holds out his hand to the far-off edge of the screen, camera shifting along the stage to capture the vision of a woman, dressed to the nines and back, the audience reacting in kind as if this were a show like any other. She saunters happily across the stage to sit so calmly in the chair beside the host’s desk. 

“Welcome to the show, Anita. It’s so good to have you back--” 

“It’s great to be back, Hart. I’m such a big fan, the only shows of yours I miss are the ones I’m on.” Cue awed reaction from the crowd, a slow crawling zoom in on Anita’s face as she shyly smiles at the host and his once again bubbly personality. Archie’s mind races from here to there, pulling the protection of his covers up to his chin. Staring down across the length of his bed, he remains transfixed. 

“Well, that’s just sweet of you, Anita.” The host says with a chuckle, gently reaching out to place a comforting hand atop hers. “How do you feel about contributing to the damnation of our society with the brainless swill you shove down the gullets of these disgusting little piggies?” 

She proceeds to answer a question, not the one he asked. No, it seemed as though this Anita Silver were participating in a wholely different show than the one that he had been observing. Her answer finished; the camera zooms in upon her meticulously painted face. As the very heartfelt question she had been supposed to answer had clearly drawn some emotion from her and the audience. Anita fights back tears, but the host remains smiling. A hollow gesture, by the appearance. Something done because it looked like it was supposed to be, rather than conveying any true emotion. 

“And what of the children? They watch you galivant on screen like some cheap slut, partaking in the flesh of so many. What is that to say of our society’s current destination? Do you feel it lessens our cultural relevance whilst those who come after us merely replace us with the next flavorless slop to drain away into their trough?” Again, she answers another question. One far and away different than the ones asked. Morbid curiosity had run its course, and Archie shuts the TV off. Whatever the program had been? He didn’t wish to partake in it any longer. 

Laying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he struggled to find comfort in a place he had once found whole worlds of it. Though the program did not instill any sense of fear within him, it did press upon his mind an eerie discomfort. Something uncanny upon trying to recall the host and his array of curiosities. The longer spent laying there, focusing on the very subject, the further away it all seemed to be. The face of the man but a blur, save that cheery grin, the shape of the set nothing more than a blur of every late night show he had ever seen.  

Feeling the pounding in his heart tear away in his chest, he feels the night consume him. Though he did not remember ever falling asleep, he finds himself waking. Much later than usual, at that. His head splits like a log beneath the force of an ax, thoughts splattered about his mind like blasted as pellets from a shotgun. Contemplating calling work to tell them he is ill, he pushes through and gets on with his day. 

Thoughts linger throughout the day on the mysterious show that plagued his night. Initially writing them off as nothing more than a bad dream, the clarity of the memory of being so wide awake seems more than palpable enough to assuage any hesitation. Almost, has it come to the point where he can only even remember being awake and uncomfortable, let alone details of harsh specifics afforded by this thing that had kept him awake. Remembering the name of the host, the show, and nothing more. Coming upon lunch he fields the question to some of his colleagues but turns up nothing from their responses. Only curious questions about what sort of things were talked about, and whether he was anything like Carson, what time to catch the show. The usual sort of senseless mundanity you would get when a friend asked you about a show they watched last night. 

When accordingly, it was of little comfort. 

What it had meant to him was either something odd was at foot here or that he was steadily losing his mind. As much as he would love to give this over to something supernatural, the staunchly atheist man in him knows to put more stock in the decline of his mental fortitude. Coming apart at the seams, that’s what it felt like. Like he was a picture being painted on a once-immaculate canvas, now fraying off the frame that had held it in place. Of course, in a rational way, as well, this felt like an overreaction. It was a dream, yes? Nothing more than a fleeting flight of his errant mind cooking images up during REM sleep.  

No channels ran that late. 

That had been the response of a couple of people he spoke to. They needed to change the tubes out at the stations to prevent daytime interruptions or some other such operational issues. Archie must admit, he was only vaguely listening. More fixated upon the implications to be had for his own mental health then, if it weren’t some fluke of the system. 

That night, he could only sit idly poking his fork at the ill-cooked TV Dinner, freshly plucked from the microwave. Getting caressed after a long day at work by the background noise of his favorite show. Which had now failed to draw his attention. Not whilst he tried and failed to remember more details of the show he had prematurely shut off in favor of a literally unmemorable night of sleep. 

 He lays down for bed again, he stares vacantly at the black glass screen staring back at him. Archie swallowed thickly, feeling his brow moisten with the fresh pinpricks of sweat. The hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand harshly on end. Though he could not place the why, he still laid his head across his pillow, and pulled his blanket over his head. Like a toddler protecting themself from the monster in the closet. It’s not surefire protection from anything, but it’s nostalgic comfort for a night that’s so painfully quiet save for the wild drumbeat of his panicking heart. 

It happens again, unsure of the moment it had happened, or how long he had laid there, only that he must have fallen asleep. When he is awoken amid the night again, it is significantly darker than it had been when he pulled his covers over his head. The click and buzz of the CRT springing to life was enough all on its own to cause him to shoot up in his bed. The static crackling of falling snow on the screen was something he took as an ill omen. It was in this moment he’d found himself doing something that he never particularly was inclined to do before now and pray to whatever god may have been listening, damning any spirit that may have been haunting him. 

As if it were being tuned to the right signal, images shift and swirl on screen, dragged down and then up again, all across the screen in uneven patterns, before once again stood at the center of his screen is Hartly Baker. Stood there with his hands clasped behind his back again, smile stretched wide across the whole of his face carving a near perfect curve from ear to ear. 

“Welcome back folks.” His intonation was the same. Every syllable, every sound, as vivid as it had been the night before. And the swell of memories flooded themselves back to his mind of the details of the show that had been robbed of him. “The President was in town today--” Pausing for reaction once more, staring expectantly down the lens this time. Archie couldn’t help but feel as though the man were piercing his eyes down to the very depths of his soul. Miserably poisoning his mind with all sorts of anxiety and terror for no reason other than sheer amusement. “--Hey, I know. I didn’t vote for him either. But he was in town this week to question why you tuned out so early last night.” Archie had zoned out for but a moment, concentrating on that unearthly gaze. That had snapped him back to attention. Ears as ready and waiting as his panicked eyes. 

“Now, I say, that’s exactly the sort of thing I expected to hear from the man who pardoned Nixon.” The host laughed, a hollow sound as ever. But the miserable connection was fragile. Breaking. The sound cracked and fizzled at the edges of his ears. The laughter became corrupt and far more haunting. 

“Oh, it’s gonna be another magical show, kids.” The host clasped his hands together, uneasy gaze pierced down the lens again. Archie could feel a vein in his brain throb with anguish whenever he tried to match or level his gaze with the man on the television. 

“I’ve got a great one tonight for you and the viewers at home. So, stay tuned, for musical guest tonight I’ve got ‘Mindless Flavorless Drivel’, movie star adulterous whore, and tonight the gate opens, the pathway lit.” Archie couldn’t have shot to his feet with any quicker a pace. Running over to wall so that he may yank, with an almost superhuman swiftness, the cable from the wall. The abyssal black screen overtaking the TV once again, the only sound in the air was the unsteady breath of the fearful man.  

He finds himself a child, once again. Stumbling through the expanse of his room and sliding open his closet door. Diving to hide among the hanging pants and sweats that cascade overhead like foliage of some great forest. He feels burdened by the familiar sounds of his childhood. Archie’s palms find themselves pressed tight over his ears, muting the imaginary sound of his father battering the closet door. Demanding he come out and face whatever punishment was coming his way for whatever perceived sleight had hit his drunken mind the moments before. 

It’s uncanny how the trauma can have him feel almost transported to that time. Still, after all these years, he can feel the reverberations of the open palm pounding on the door vibrate in his skull. The muffled sound of anguishing fear leaves him now, as a full-grown adult with his father long since passed on. How quickly it all comes swimming back to poison the well, when he finds his one place of pure comfort corrupted by the unfiltered nature of fear as it swirls about in his mind.  

And then? 

Morning. 

The rays of sunlight piercing through the slats of his closet door like beacons through the darkness. A lighthouse on the bay of the stormy night that had tormented his maddened brain. Throat dry, though at some point he had surely slept he had never felt more tired. Eyes sunken and worn, it feels as if he’d been flattened on the highway more than anything else. In his rationalization of things, it explained more than ever what had been happening. Fever. It was all it had ever been, the cresting of a miserable sickness breaking over the hill to weigh itself upon his ever-active imagination. A swell of relief bursts like a bubble in the back of his mind, a soft exhale of comforted safety breathed itself free from his throat-- 

He’d never called out from work before, but in all honesty, Archie had felt like he could barely stand let alone attend the meeting that was on the agenda. For a little extra piece of mind, he wheels the nearly 80-pound TV out of his room for the day. In some world or way hoping that it would provide even further peace from these miserable visions that had burdened him and his waking consciousness. 

With little ceremony he lays back down in bed, hoping to come upon some form of rest. Maybe when he awoke, he would feel better. Closing his eyes, he lets himself be cradled to some place far away from here. The passive world of dreams swallowing him whole and carrying him off to some land of fantasy.  

At least, until he was awoken by the sound of heavy feet clodding up his stairs. Another familiar sound. Boots pounding upon the surface of carpeted floor, soon accompanied by a furious hand twisting with great futility against a door that had been habitually locked. Once more in the mindset of his thirty years younger self, Archie drags his blanket up to cover his mouth. The warmth of his breath pouring from his nose reflecting fearfully back into his face as he stares with wide eyes at the door. Knowing what comes next. Arhythmic pounding, bashing with a furled fist against the fragile wooden structure of his bedroom door. Symphonically resonating with the miserable song of incomprehensible rambling that may as well have been gibberish.  

“Go away!” He calls out to the voice, knowing better than to do so but feeling himself steeled from years of passivity, he no longer feels the need to lie down and be someone else’s outlet. Reality had long been an array of moments where he found himself to be someone else’s punching bag, the side bit to whomever felt like they deserved far more to be headlining the story than he did. Control. God, control had felt so far from his grasp at any given moment that even as an adult he was haunted by this sound. These memories flowing through his veins and tainting every night’s sleep he’d ever had. 

Palms press flat to his ears again, sitting up and shouting once more without fear of repercussions. “Leave me alone! I just want to sleep!” As he grew older, the escape from reality that had been his solitary comfort in this life had grown into a strange addiction. Needing it and the watchful eye of the glass screens glow to even lull him to some gentle slumber. Even now, though, upon his cold moment of self-realization, he is still haunted. Burdened by the pound of fists on his door, his own fingers furling into meaty cudgels of their own against the sides of his skull. Pounding at flesh and bone to make the banging at cheap particle wood stop. Tears prickle at his eyes, and he fights to stay in bed. 

Through it, he remembers his father’s funeral. O’ the last time he’d spoken to his estranged family. How they all shared such pleasant lies about a man they had all secretly despised. Deifying a devil in the flesh with every goddamned word like it was all truth. A monster. A boogeyman. Not the sort that hid in the closet or under the bed, the sort a young boy ran to the closet or hid under the bed to escape from. Not sure when it happened, he finds himself stumbling to his feet. Head pounding in rhythm with the drunken bashing at his door. 

Swinging the door open, Archie intended to find his father, hoping to confront the tormentor of every single night of sleep. The not so peaceful death of every single moment of rest he’d ever have in his life. There is nothing. Just the stairs that lead to the abyssal darkness of the rest of the home below. Silence. No sound, no closure. No control. Just, nothing. 

It’s a hollow feeling, walking back to his bed and burying himself beneath the mountains of comforters. But now his sleep finds itself uninterrupted. By the damnable touch of any sort of painful memory or imaginary nightmare. Unaided, it’s the first night of sleep he’s had in... Ever. Before this moment, his mind had never known a peaceful night without the touch of a TV’s glow, or medical enhancement of some form. It’s refreshing to wake from. To lay flat upon the surface of his bed, staring at the speckled ceiling feeling a calming serenity from having taken back a piece of himself in some fashion. 

At least for one night, there was control. A feeling that swelled within him long enough to take the TV from his room. A pleasant night of sleep was a boon of much confidence, to him. Further still were the succeeding nights, and the amount of comfort the sleep had afforded him. 

A week. That was how long this euphoria had lasted him. A safe bastion from the displeasure of the mundane that seemed to suffocate and drowned him beneath the whispering darkness that seemed to swell and bury him beneath its cresting waves and peaks. One week. One week until he is reminded of how little control he truly has, again, by the bitter touch of his life. One particularly nasty verbal lashing from his editor had been all it took for him to fall right back into the suffering of helplessness. Coping with his lack of power with escapism into the glowing box in front of his couch. 

The gentle call of the trumpet is what startles him to wake from his slouch on his sofa. Followed swiftly by the heavy pounding of drums, and a saxophone, lulling the adoring audience from their wild cheering so the handsome host could stand at the center of the stage again. 

He could almost recite it lyrically; it had been burned into his mind. 

“Welcome back folks.” Memorized the playful splay of the hands, the welcoming stance of open arms that soon close once more. Letting the crowd’s cheer die down to nothing. “The President was in town today—” A pause for reaction, one that drags on for far too long this time. As the host hauntingly stares down the lens. Piercing gaze burning a hole into the depths of every worry, ruining any comfort with but a look. “--Hey, I know. I didn’t vote for him either. But he was in town this week to discuss how much of a fat lazy piece of shit you are. Simpering about at your job, letting everyone walk all over you.” Archie isn’t sure if it’s real, or his own mind kicking him for being proud that-- “You stand up to the ghost of one memory and you feel invincible. One more road black hits you in life, and you rebound so quickly. You want it all just handed to you, don’t you?”  

Clicking the button on the remote, he clenches his jaw tight. His eyes sinking to the floor in front of him. Whether this was his own mind playing tricks on him, burying him in uncertainty and doubt, or some bullshit paranormal thing, he doesn’t quite care. Not when whatever it was made some, admittedly, valid points. 

Archie quit his job the next day. No one was ever sure why. The opportunity never even raised itself for anyone to ask before he’d done so and practically danced his way out of the office. His coworkers did not the smile that had spread itself across his face, ever present and wide. 

Two weeks.  

Still no job, no call backs from any of the prospective places he’d given his resume. Even through his desperate pestering of some of these places. Inundating answering machine after answering machine with phone calls asking about the status of his application. On one such occasion, even downright pleading for the job. So little time and his resolution crumbles again, withering like a castle of dust in the wind. Finding comfort and control in the escapism of the dim glow of the CRT. Though he had freed himself of it as a sleep aid, though he had stopped watching it so obsessively, it still helped him cope to these feelings of powerlessness. 

When he wakes this time, he notices the feeling of his Argyle couch has somewhat changed. Less coarse and harsh and more of a welcoming plush feeling beneath his tired body.  

“Welcome back folks.” 

His eyes shoot open, his body stiffly rigid when he rises to his feet at the familiar voice. 

“Easy there, killer. I’m getting to it.” Those piercing eyes are directly on him now, craning so the host can look over his shoulder at Archie himself. The audience laughs, but as he gazed beyond the assaulting lights of the studio to the bleachers beyond all he can see are an array of stiffly positioned bodies. Faces frozen in some darkly contorted expression somewhere between amusement and despair. Feeling the sweat beginning to bead as he lowers himself to sit calmly in the further guest chair, he clutches at the arms. Fingers furling roughly to grasp a white-knuckle hold onto them. Hoping such force would drag him free from this nightmare. 

“The President was in town today—” The pause for reaction was maddening from the other side. An eternity of the pair of them staring off into that crowd of gaunt grey corpses, as they make sounds without movement. “--Hey, I know. I didn’t vote for him either. But he was in town this week to celebrate the bicentennial of our fine nation. Of the ceremony, the president and the fine men in his cabinet stressed the opportunity for renewal and rebirth for our country.” The boos are there, but the audience just stares forward with their dead eyes. Sunken and swimming in sockets filled with puddles of dried blood. “Now, I say, that’s exactly the sort of thing I expected to hear from the man who pardoned Nixon.” When the audience finally stirs, it’s to physically clap alongside their raucous cheers. The bloodied stems where their hands might have once been clacking bare exposed bone together, this routine having been done sufficiently enough to wear down the extremities to nothing more than a passing memory. 

“Now folks. I’ve got a magical show for you tonight.” This was different. This wasn’t like when he was out there. “But, I’ve been host of this wonderful program for twenty years.” Pause for cheers, calm them down with the gentle raise of his hands. “I’ve been host for twenty years, but I think it’s time I hang up my microphone and retire. Put someone else in control...” The audience lets their sadness be known, even if their bodies merely sat there continuing to do nothing more than rot in their seats. 

“I’ve got a great one tonight for you and the viewers at home. So, stay tuned, for musical guest tonight I’ve got ‘The Calling Darkness’, movie star Anita Silver, and a very special secret surprise guest tonight. Stay tuned—I'm Hartly Baker, and everyone, you know I’m always-” 

On this side? The audience says nothing, there is no graphic or cheer as there is in the mysterious broadcast, just silence as the host stands ever still while time passes as though there was. Archie doesn’t even blink and Hartly vanishes from the stage, to appear behind the desk at his right, proceeding as if this were all according to plan. 

“Tonight, as always, I strive to bring you the most cutting and up to date entertainment I can. Our industry is ever changing, always in motion. At the forefront of this ever-shifting medium is a star, a good friend, and most certainly a fan of mine, Anita Silver!” Cue cards in hand, he motions offstage as the lights focus their beams on the curtains that part so ever slowly. A decrepit, worn down, thoroughly ancient skeletal corpse falls face first through the sapphire shade, head bursting open with all manner of nightcrawlers as the host once more rises to his feet. Miming a loving greeting to the host. Looking at the empty chair beside Archie as though it had been occupied. 

After the dead silence where canned cheers would normally be, Hartly beams his charming smile to the empty seat. 

“Welcome to the show, Anita. It’s so good to have you back--” 

Silence, of course, there was no guest to speak. 

“Well, that’s sweet of you to say, I’m glad you could take a break from your busy life to be on my farewell show.” With a gentle clack, the host straightens his cards out on the surface of his desk. Feigning a misty-eyed reaction, averting his gaze for dramatic effect. “Anita, you’ve been an icon of our generation. The industry has certainly wrung you dry and spat you out. But through it all, you endured. All to make your mark on our world, and I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say I’m going to miss you, my dear.” Passively, Archie shifts in his chair, pulling his body away from the empty chair to almost hide in the corner of its seat. 

“Anita Silver, everyone.” Light shines once more on the desiccated corpse strewn about just barely on this side of the curtain. The clacking cacophony of bone on bone returning as the gaunt shapes once more mime a parade of applause for the guest. 

“Folks. You’ve been a wonderful audience, and I have with me tonight a very very special guest I’ve been trying to get onto the show for months.” Vacant gaze fixates on him. The suddenly dead eyes of the host staring emotionlessly through Archie, the ghostly foggy eyes of all the adoring eyes of that corpse-like audience accompanying it. 

“I have here Archie Walker. Now for those who don’t know, Archie is a pathetic little wretch. No love, no life, no job.” Opening his mouth to speak, Archie finds no sound leaving his mouth, not before the host begins again. “But I think I’ve got what he craves more than anything. Something that I craved too once upon a time.” What could have been construed as a solemn look passes over the features of the host as he settles back casually in his chair. 

“As you all well know, this is my last show. Archie here? He’s my replacement. I hope you treat him with as much kindness and respect as you’ve given me over the years.” 

Shooting to his feet, Archie finds fire in his belly finally. Enough to kick to his feet and stand threatening over the desk of the host. To grab his tie and pull him taught to the edge. “Now listen here, you don’t get to talk to me that way! I may not be as important as you or your guests, but I matter. I’m not pathetic. And I’m not defined by what anyone else thinks of me. You’re gonna take me home, and I’m not gonna host your little show.” 

“Why not?” Is all the host asks, no fear or anger in his own gaze as he stares up at the angered protagonist. A snide mocking grin baring itself across his features almost instinctually. 

“Because my life--” 

“Is going nowhere. No job, no control, no power. No confidence. Look where you are, Archie. Look around.” Archie tried to resist the command, but he does. Looking at the set, the lights, the stage. Almost with stares in his eyes. Hypnotized by the grandiosity of it all rather than being buried by his own fear. 

“My life might not mean much, but it’s mine—So I get to decide what happens to it. Not you. Got it?” 

“Yeah, Arch. I get it.” He holds his hands up in surrender, his features not shifting even an inch as he keeps his gaze leveled. “So, I guess you wanna go home?” 

Tanner had, since he was but a young man, struggled with the ability to fall asleep. A child of the 80s, he’d had a TV in his room since he was a toddler. Engrossed in every program his eyes swallowed, he couldn’t even get to sleep without the gentle hum of the thing humming him to sleep. Adulthood had been unkind, when he’d lost his job, he found himself forced to move back in with his parents, old habits died so terribly hard. But one night, while coaxed to sleep by his childhood TV, he suddenly found himself woken by the sound of some sort of late night program. 

“Welcome back folks.” The charismatic man starts, his smile so boldly stretched practically ear to ear. Standing calmly center screen his suit is finely pressed, not a wrinkle or crease in a spot there shouldn’t be, he begins his monologue without a second’s hesitation. “The President was in town today—” Pause for reaction, but what should have been an adoring crowd is silent like the dead. Though the ever-charismatic host, in his handsome smile, lifts his hands still, as if to quiet their jeers and boos even though there were none to be heard. “--Hey, I know. I didn’t vote for him either. But he was in town this week and apparently while he was walking back to his limo, someone tried to shoot him.” An array of gasps overtook the crowd, but the host maintained his grin. “Honestly, I’m shocked he missed. It’s not like Reagan’s winning the Olympics anytime soon.” The crowd bursts into laughter. 

“Oh, it’s gonna be another magical show, kids. I’ve got a great one tonight for you and the viewers at home. So, stay tuned, for musical guest tonight I’ve got ‘Darkness That Calls, movie star Terry Watts, and more for you.” Tanner found himself engrossed immediately, watching with great interest as the host practically danced across the screen with energy while he spoke-- 

“I’m your host, Archie Walker, and I hope you’re ready for--” 

The graphic bursts onto the screen, the audience singing alongside it. 

‘A Late-Night Walk!’ 

[holidayspackagesglh]

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Must Read: Euro Escapes: Tailored Tour Packages for Indians Exploring Europe

[bunkershotgolf]

PGA Tour-LIV Controversy—An Adult in the Room

By ED TRAVIS

It’s always refreshing when someone you respect agrees with you…or is it the other way around? In any event, when the number one ranked golfer says what you are thinking it’s nice to know you aren’t completely alone. Rory McIlroy takes a leadership role in the world of professional golf with a sensible suggestion to solve the unsustainable and stressful current situation.

“There’s a few things that I would like to see on the LIV side that needs to happen,” McIlroy said. “I think Greg [Norman] needs to go. I think he needs to just exit stage left. He’s made his mark, but I think now is the right time to sort of say, ‘Look, you’ve got this thing off the ground, but no one is going to talk unless there’s an adult in the room that can actually try to mend fences.’”

For those who may have been spending the past few months perfecting their pickleball serve or training 16 hours a day for a WWE comeback, LIV Golf is a competitor to the PGA Tour and DP World Tour, the former European Tour. It is a disruptor to the otherwise usually staid week to week tournaments run by the established tours.

Again, in case you have not been following the controversy, LIV Golf gets its money from the Public Investment Fund which is the sovereign wealth fund of the Saudi Arabian royal family with Hall of Fame member Greg Norman as front man.

It has become clear two things about LIV Golf stick in the craw of many observers.

First is the over-the-top signing bonuses paid by LIV to lure PGAT stars. Fan-favorite Phil Mickelson reportedly received $200 million and several other players getting their share. The list includes Dustin Johnson ($125 million), Bryson DeChambeau ($125 million) and Sergio Garcia who also banked $125 million while British Open Champion Cameron Smith had to settle for $100 million. Not unsurprisingly those taking the LIV money lost their right to compete on the PGA Tour with their status in the majors still to be determined.

Certainly, no one begrudges players winning huge sums because of their playing skill but it would appear the line is drawn with payments based on reputation alone. The LIV play is not a tour…at least not in the way most think of as professional competition. In fact, LIV is closer to a series of exhibitions, 48-player fields, 54-hole events with no cut and a payout to each player regardless of how they score plus a team competition with separate winnings.

For contrast Scottie Scheffler the PGA Tour 2021-2022 leading money winner (25 events, 4 wins, 1 major) won $14 million while LIV’s top performer Dustin Johnson took home $35.6 million in an eight-event season.

Luring stars away from the PGAT simply lessens the product without a commensurate gain for fans not to mention the local charities who receive substantial donations from every tournament. LIV has no broadcast contract leaving those interested to watch on the LIV social media channel and onsite event attendance has been minuscule.

Another issue LIV doesn’t address is the source of the money namely the Saudi Arabian regime. Even considering Saudi’s sizable percentage of the proven world oil reserves and all the critical political factors, the Kingdom’s dismal record of human rights abuses is an almost overwhelming point of contention.

Norman has also become the focal point in the argument and seems to relish that spot. From the initial announcement of the LIV series, it was clear the Aussie and former ranked world number one was on a mission to “get” the PGA Tour. This likely can be traced back to the early 1990s when Norman’s proposed world tour was vetoed by the PGAT. On top of that, today Norman doesn’t seem to be working towards any solution, simply making matters worse with antagonistic comments.

Don’t forget that according to Norman’s early statements, LIV’s goal was to grow the game by creating additional playing opportunities for a select number of players. This has not been accomplished since the defectors have lost their membership on the prevailing Tours and in fact an acrimonious competitor to the established circuits has been created

It is becoming clearer, unless a solution can be found golf fans and the many charities supported by the PGA Tour are going to be the losers.

McIlroy’s call for Norman to resign from LIV would be a good first step and bringing “an adult in the room” to open a dialogue between the sides is the only reasonable path.

[your-astro-mami]

The 1st House Ruler and your identity

The first House or your Ascendant/Rising sign represents your character, your self and everything that is a part of you, including your physical body and appearance.

The planet that rules your 1st House is highly important - what it represents is greatly connected to your identity, its the most influential energy in your chart.

How to find the planet ruling your 1st House?

Look at the sign on your 1st House/Ascendant and the planet it is ruled by:

Aries - Mars, Taurus - Venus, Gemini - Mercury, Cancer - Moon, Leo - Sun, Virgo - Mercury, Libra - Venus, Scorpio - Mars,Pluto, Sagittarius - Jupiter, Capricorn - Saturn, Aquarius - Uranus, Pisces - Neptune.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is the Sun:

You exude courage and confidence. You are warm, inviting, give people the energy you want to receive. Your world revolves around you, at times you may feel like other people's worlds have to revolve around you too. You can be authorative, you were likely very influenced by your father or male figures in your life. You are inspiring ro yourself and others.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is the Moon:

You are emotive, you are likely to face changes quite often, there can be lack of stability, you may be very reactive and sensitive to your surroundings and other people. You are highly empathetic, you like to nurture others, understand them, make them feel better. You are focused on caring about yourself and others, maybe even prioritize others at times. You are a person who feels like home. You may experience a lot of daily travelling or movement (for duties, job.)

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Mercury:

Your personality revolves around your intellect - you are a curious person who wants to understand everything they face. You are intelligent and quick-witted (If your Ascendant is Virgo, you may have a dry but smart sense of humor). You like to talk, share your thoughts and opinions. You like to play the devil's advocate and at times defend others just for the sake of it. You have great memory and good ability to collect information.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Venus:

You exude beauty and harmony, you bring peace wherever you go. You are charismatic and have the ability to make people like you without much work. You are influenced by the feminine figures in your life. You like to see and represent the beauty in life, you like to bring things together, you like to appeal to everyone and visualize the world as a beautiful place to be.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Mars:

You are dominant and assertive. You like things to go your way. You may have a troubled temper, inability to stay patient, you are expressive of your dissatisfaction or irritation. You can be prone to violence - it can be expressed in different ways, it's not always direct. You are very competitive, you are bold and brave, you have the courage to do things others may be afraid of. You aren't afraid to face your fears. You are a warrior at heart.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Jupiter:

You are born with luck, throughout your life you are likely to meet many people who are willing to help you and guide you through anything. You attract opportunities and now matter how hard the situation you're in might be, there will always be a way out. You are wiser than your age, you learn through other people's experiences, you love freedom and knowledge. You receive double the amount of what you give.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Saturn:

While Jupiter represents positive growth from experience, Saturn can show th growth we have from suffering, from hardships and what we've been through. You are a dedicated person who is persistent, unwilling to give up no matter how hard it is. You may feel restricted, limited, blocked from certain experiences in life - like something is holding you back. Despite the downs and sorrow you may experience, you must know that you have the strength of two people combined, you are the person who builds their own life's structure.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Uranus:

You are an innovator, you are a person sent from the future, a stranger in a strange land. No one knows what to expect from you, you are the hidden genius - you may be misunderstood often, people rarely have the same perspective as you. You are an unconventional person, you have a distinctive way of presenting yourself, of being. You live in the future, you look foward to the way things will be, not how they are or were. You are bold, unapologetically yourself and unafraid of how you're perceived.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Neptune:

You represent glamour - but in the untouchable, far-away type of way. You give an illusion about yourself that could be very different from reality - whether it's intentional or not. You are vulnerable and may often view the world and others in a deluded way - you may think things are better or worse than they are. You have a very strong inutuition and are likely to follow your heart.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Pluto:

Even if you are quiet your presence is always noticed. You may experience things intensely - everything that has happened has influenced you in one way or another. Life feels like a constant transformation - big changes are made quite often, for better or for worse. You are strong-willed, you have tough-skin and the ability to overcome anything.

The House your chart ruler is in and which area of your life has the biggest impact on your identity:

Example: Kim Kardashian has Sagittarius on the 1st House Cusp/Ascendant. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter. Her Jupiter is in the 10th House.

1st House ruler in the 1st House:

Similarly to the Sun, your world revolves around you. You are a very self-focused person. You are true to yourself. You may be seen as selfish, but you prioritize yourself. You are likely focuse on self-improvement throughout life. You are the face of your own brand. You are very connected to your body.

1st House ruler in the 2nd House:

Your identity is focused on the way you support yourself, your values and what brings value into your life and character. You may be seen and vain or materialistic, because you understand the worth of money. You have a strong sense of self-worth. You can sometimes be passive or avoidant of action. You like having stability, a pattern, you might be a creature of habit.

1st House ruler in the 3rd House:

You are a communicative person with a strong need to express yourself. Your siblings or neighbourhood have influenced you. You are a person who feels responsible for their community. You are creative and have the ability to transform any information in a useful way. You may often have short trips.

1st House ruler in the 4th House:

You are someone who is very connected to their roots, their home and family. Your family has had the biggest influence on your identity. You are a very home-oriented person who looks for parts of their home wherever they go. You may have traditional values or values taught from your family. Your life may revolve around homes, properties, ancestry.

1st House ruler in the 5th House:

They are constantly inspired - a very creative individual. They are great with children. Their life may revolve around anything that brings them pleasure and makes them feel good - relationships, hobbies. They have a strong need to express their creativity, to show off a product of theirs, to be proud of something in their life. They are a person who is very fun to be around, someone that brings out other people's best side and inspires them.

1st House ruler in the 6th House:

Another creature of habit, of routine. Their work and work environment is highly important when it comes to how they generally feel. Happy wife, happy life, but make the wife your work. They can be very health-conscious and keep a steady healthy lifestyle (if they have time). They are prone to health problems especially ones that come from stress (again, work-related) - especially headaches. They are very responsible and reliable.

1st House ruler in the 7th House:

You are very influenced by your relationships with other people. People with this placement tend to mirror other people's characteristics unintentionally. They are very considerate people, very willing to compromise in order to keep a good relationship with everyone. They tend to attract and be attracted to people similar to them. They are very diplomatic and have a natural good sense for business.

1st House ruler in the 8th House:

A very private, secretive person, who can often lack trust in other people. May be very money-focused. They value truth, they have the ability to face everything, every topic no matter how uncomfortable it is. They seek power, validation, to have any kind of impact. They aren't afraid of the darkness of the world.

1st House ruler in the 9th House:

A person very focused on knowledge, education or generally the complex matters in life. These are the people who are focused on gaining experience throughout life, undertaning different perspectives, travelling and mastering any topic that peaks their interest. This is a great position for a guru, a political leader, a professor, someone who has responsibility on a greater level.

1st House ruler in the 10th House:

They can be someone who is well-known, who has a large reputation and is known by a lot of people., especially from their career and what they do professionally. Their personal identity is influenced by their field of work. They are good at self-marketing, how they present themselves, carefully building their own image.

1st House ruler in the 11th House:

Another house that can show fame - more specifically fame from a following, from building an audience, networking. Their identity is influenced by their friend groups. They are a people's person, who seeks support from others. They often think for the good of a larger group of people, they can be very selfless.

1st House ruler in the 12th House:

Possibly the biggest sign of an introvert, someone more focused on their inner world than their surroundings. While it can show that you can be prone to isolating yourself, it can also show that your time alone is your most productive and joyful time (depending on the aspects). There people are highly intuitive, very close to the spiritual world.

[fictionalwh0ree]

With Angie, like get into an argument Bc when asked one of them revealed they were in a relationship and the other denied it. (fight then fluff)

red carpet- angelina jolie

summary: it's your first red carpet and you get asked about your relationship with your co-star, angelina. you deny everything, she does the opposite. needless to say, she's not happy.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

pairing: angelina jolie x fem!reader

the day had finally come. after months of hard work, late nights and early mornings, the premiere of your movie, girl, interrupted, had come. this movie meant so much to you for so many reasons. it was a movie you knew would skyrocket you into fame, not only because of the plot , but because of the star-studded cast involved. another contributor was your relationship with co-star angelina jolie.

she was everything you'd wanted in a girl. she was talented, intelligent, funny and extremely gorgeous. you'd had a crush on her since the minute you laid eyes on her. when you began filming, you'd kept it extremely professional, but there was an undeniable attraction between the two of you. you became official almost half a year before the premiere. it was a private relationship, of course, and it's not like anyone would assume differently. it was only 1999, of course.

the day of premiere was stressful to say the least, but angie comforted you through every step of the way. when it'd come time to get ready, you'd split ways and you'd only see her again on the red carpet. as she left, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and assured you that everything would work out perfectly.

when you were ready, there was a limo waiting outside your apartment. you hopped in, and although the venue was only a 25 minute drive away, it felt hours long. your brain overthought everything and came up with the worst possible scenario for any and every situation.

you could trip when you get out of the car.

you could have a massive wardrobe malfunction.

you could answer an interviewers question and completely embarrass yourself.

the possibilities went on and on and you were only pulled out of that state when you heard the driver call you.

"ma'am, we've arrived," he said.

you took a deep breath and politely thanked him as a security guard opened the door for you.

one step at a time, you told yourself.

you stepped out of the car and were greeted with shutters clicking and flashes going off. people called your name left and right, but all you were trying to do was to maintain calm so you wouldn't trip on your dress.

once you got into the venue, you spotted angelina. your worries faded as you admired her. her outfit was simplistic, a dark t-shirt paired with a floor-length leather skirt and a long gray coat draped over her shoulders.

she sent you a small smile when she noticed you approaching, which you gladly returned. she was standing in a group with some of the other co-stars. when you finally got there, you hugged them all. when you finally hugged your girlfriend, it lasted longer, and when you pulled away, instead of letting go completely, she let one of her arms slide down your back, securing itself around your waist. you stayed like this for a while, knowing paparazzi wouldn't be able to see that considering how everyone was angled.

as you all conversed, an employee came and politely let you all know that you had to begin walking down the carpet for photos and interviews. they all began to walk down, but you stayed with angelina for a minute longer.

"how're you feeling?" she asked.

"i'm alright, just nervous i guess," you admitted.

"well, you look amazing," she complimented, "and i know you'll do great on the carpet. just don't overthink it too much. deflect if you need to."

you blushed at her compliment, thanking her before wrapping your arms around her for another hug.

"you ready?" she asked.

"yeah," you answered.

she sent you one last smile before you were off. the area was overtaken by shouts from paparazzi. all you ould hear was their calls for you to look their ways. shutters clicked up and down the carpet, followed by the blinding flashes. you continued to move down until you reached the interview area. their cameras focused on you and a mic was extended towards your face.

"so, y/n, what was it like working on this movie?" the reporter asked.

"it was great. i mean at first i was kinda intimidated by everyone, especially angie, but they're all very nice people. they've made it a great work environment," you answered.

"speaking of angelina, you guys are frequently seen out together and reportedly grown very close. is there anything romantic between the two of you?" they asked.

your cheeks flushed as your brain scrambled for an answer.

just don't overthink it too much. deflect if you need to.

angelina's words replayed in your brain as you tried your best not to do just that.

"next question," you joked, laughing nervously, causing the reporter to laugh a bit too.

"i mean, we did a lot of scenes together so i'd say that'd make most people bond. when you work on a movie, it kind of takes up your whole life, so we just got really close. plus, we have a lot in common, that's it," you answered, leaving out the fact that what you had in common was your gay love for each other.

she nodded before asking a couple more questions. as you walked down to the end of the carpet, you walked past angelina who was still being interviewed.

"there have been photos taken of you and co-star y/n y/l/n where you're rather touchy with each other. is there anything romantic going on there?" you heard the reporter ask, causing you to slow down.

"um, yeah," she answered and although she was facing away from you, you could basically hear the smile in her voice. however, your smile dropped as you realized what you'd done.

"speaking of y/n, there she is now," a reporter said.

her and the cameramen beckoned you over. you plastered a smile onto your face and hoped the uneasiness didn't come through.

"hi!" you smiled as you approached, angelina's arm wrapping around your waist immediately.

"you answered this question not long ago, but your answer was much more, deflective," the reporter said.

"uhhh, i mean, yeah, i guess it was. it was kind of unexpected but i guess the cat's out of the bag now," you smiled.

"so, it's confirmed, you two are exclusive?" the reporter asked, to which you both nodded.

"well, why don't you give us your first kiss as a public couple," she coaxed.

angelina shrugged before putting her hand on your cheek, gently pushing it to face her. you were both smiling for the camera’s but your eyes told a different stories. angie’s eyes had a hint of anger in them and yours had regret. you leaned forward to connect your lips in a kiss, which she returned, but you could tell it was only for the cameras. the usual passion and love behind them was nowhere to be found.

you politely said goodbye and walked into the theatre where the premiere was being held. as you walked, silence filled the air. you walked uncomfortably next to each other before you were pulled into a bathroom.

“what the hell was that?” she asked angrily once the door was shut and locked.

“what was what?” you asked ‘cluelessly.’

“don’t play dumb, y/n,” angelina yelled, “you said no. you denied that we were in a relationship. and- and i said yes. i said yes.”

“i mean, i just deflected it. i didn’t know what to do. i’m new to this, ang. i didn’t want to accidentally ruin your career or anything,” you said truthfully, taking her hands into yours.

her eyes searched yours for any sort of indication that you were lying, but there was none. her expression softened before she enveloped you in a hug.

“i’d pick you over my career any day, y/n,” she whispered in your ear.

she pulled away and planted a short kiss on your lips before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the small bathroom.

“come on, we have a premiere to attend to.”

--

taglist: @lizziecuervo1996 | @estrellarimar | @ajaklovebot | @caitlink26 | @augustvandyne | @yeIenaishot | @simp4haiz | @bytheseangie | @count-orlok |

[mrwinterr]

Over & Over

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Pornstar!Female Reader

Summary: You’re an up-and-coming adult film star secretly eager to work with the popular Bucky Barnes, and with just the right connections, your paths cross much sooner than later.

Warnings: Adult themes. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration and instructional fingering, oral [male & female receiving], size kink, spit & cum play, a smudge of male dominance), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: I don’t know how the porn industry works; this was just written for fun.

Title Inspiration: “Over & Over” by Smallpools

A/N: After doping up on strong painkillers wasn’t enough, I thought releasing endorphins would help ease my headache, so once again watching porn inspired another fic. Idk. I’m a mess. Enjoy!

Slipping on your oversized sunglasses, you walk along the rectangular outline of the hotel’s lavish pool, to one of the vacant lounge chairs next to the redheaded goddess, whose wings you were taken under and could gratefully call a close friend. You hadn’t known a single soul when you packed up and moved west to Los Angeles at 18, but you knew you were destined for more than what your humdrum life back at home could offer.

The porn industry wasn’t your first choice at a career in entertainment, but the starving profession wasn’t paying the bills fast enough. You weren’t going to survive in L.A. another year juggling to pay for tuition and stay enrolled in acting school from the income of working menial jobs and booking small gigs. However, one minor role as an extra in a one-night stand sex scene of a TV show, you catch the eye of the multitalented adult film actress Natasha Romanoff.

It was pure coincidence she was also casted, playing a bigger role, of the same episode, but she saw more in you in your less than 15 seconds of fame than most casting agents did before offering you a chance to shadow her. You knew she looked familiar and you were no stranger to watching porn, but when you’re as down on your luck as you were, you went all in and soon enough countless scenes now under your belt within a year, you’re porn’s best female newcomer.

“There’s this year’s Best New Starlet!” Natasha proclaims loudly for almost everyone around to hear.

Lucky for you, the shades conceal the roll of your eyes at her comment as you kick off your flip-flops and remove the thin cover up to reveal your skimpy bikini. You dare look over at her in time to catch her mocking reaction, jaw dropped from your attitude.

“After all I’ve done for you,” she says, placing a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

The pair of you laugh at your nonsense and after she helps you with applying the appropriate amount of sun care protection, you recline in your seats and attempt to soak up some sun. It was a much-needed break with the long stressful week of the award show now behind everyone. Your hard work had paid off and after all you did learn from the best.

Your predecessor before you, Natasha was also a former Best New Starlet, and now is a household name in pornography. She didn’t welcome a lot of people into her inner circle, but she had plans to one day direct and knew she had to find the next big thing before anyone else to take her place.

“Hello, ladies,” comes from the voice of this year’s Director of the Year and other close friend Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey Wanda,” you greet her by sitting up to give her a proper hug.

You met her through her twin brother, Pietro, who happened to be your first co-star and was very welcoming and caring to you. The twins took care of you during your first few months starting out. Much like Natasha did for you, you help her administer the same amount of sunscreen on her body.

“Congrats on your achievement,” she says wholeheartedly, looking over her shoulder at you as you finish up on her back, and even under the heat of the sun, she could still see the blush creep up on your face.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Natasha comments casually, to which Wanda nods enthusiastically, only speeding up the process of the rose tints on your cheeks to spread all over your face. They were your biggest fans and supporters; you were so happy you could make them proud.

“I owe it all to the queen herself,” you say, downplaying your achievement and turning the attention to your mentor in Natasha. She scoffs at that and teases you about just taking the damn compliment. You put in the work; it was all you.

“Seriously, you deserved it,” Wanda says honestly, and you finally accept the praise.

“So, what’s next for miss Director of the Year?” Natasha asks leaning on a propped elbow, body facing towards you and Wanda.

“Well, I managed to finally book Bucky Barnes in an upcoming project…” she starts out, but the moment you heard his name slip from her lips, the rest almost didn’t matter.

Bucky Barnes was somewhat of a legend. There wasn’t a model or director that didn’t want to work with him. The man was downright gifted in every aspect and his work speaks for itself. Before you broke onto the scene, you’d gotten off to his videos, and only dreamed of one day starring in a scene with him, but you were still new to this world.

As a promising star, you had a long way to go and tons of plots, positions and people to still experience, so landing a role with someone like Bucky Barnes wasn’t entirely written in your plans any time soon. Then again, your first girl-on-girl scene was with your mentor herself, so anything could happen, right?

“I just haven’t found my girl yet,” was the next thing you pick up Wanda say the moment your head comes back from the clouds, “...I have all this momentum now that I want this to blow everyone away, especially Stark.”

Tony Stark was her rival. It was a friendly competition amongst friends. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work for him yet. He was a playful character and had directed some of the best adult films out there, Wanda just happened to be the better of the two this year…

“Sorry, I’m retired,” Natasha reminds her and repositions herself on her back.

“Fuck you,” Wanda says playfully to which Natasha responds with a finger in the air before she clarifies, “I was hinting at this year’s Best New Starlet…” and slyly looking in your directly.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. Your head can’t even start processing that you’re finally getting the opportunity to work with Bucky.

Wanda rolls her eyes at your obliviousness, “no, last year’s Best New Starlet. Hell no! Of course, you!” You respond in the same manner as your mentor, who is more than amused at you also following her lead, and flip Wanda off. Wanda snatches your hand to bring it away from her face, “I’m serious!”

“I-I don’t know, Wan,” a part of you is a little scared that you’re not going to be able to keep up with someone as established and with the star power as Bucky, “...like you said, you have all this momentum behind you. I don’t want to fuck this scene up because I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Natasha pipes up on the other side of you. “This is the perfect role for you!” She sees the questionable look on your face and sighs before explaining. “You’re a fresh face and rising star! People are lining up to book you, Stark included.”

“Nat is right. You’re a hot commodity now! I need someone who is a little inexperienced to mix with someone that is,” Wanda further explains her premise, “let him take the lead, but at your pace. I need it to be raw and passionate. People love that shit!” They were right, he had all the experience, and you were a fresh loveable face. It was the perfect combination.

You remain quiet for several seconds before Natasha rats you out, “and don’t even try to act like you don’t want to work with Barnes. This is your fantasy come to life.” Way to throw you under the bus like that…

There’s no denying your goal to work with him. He’d been in this business much longer than you had, you didn’t think your paths would ever cross on a set, but the opportunity couldn’t have presented itself in a more perfect point in your career.

The room is very pristine. White walls with a king size bed, also adorned in white sheets, fluffy pillows scattered at the top, minimal furniture around to make it look realistic, and the lighting was just right. Wanda had received a hefty budget after her recognition that’s for sure.

“Alright, girly, let’s get you on the bed!” Wanda happily directs.

You nod silently, remove your footwear and plop down on the center of the large mattress. You decide to leave your legs sprawled on one side of your body, settling on a bashful position. It’s not hard for you because although you agreed to do this and have done several scenes, internally, you’re freaking the fuck out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s all part of your charm; the innocence you somehow still radiated was an all too endearing quality and actually sexy.

Even your attire was pretty modest, opting for a more casual look with black leggings and a tight long sleeve that accentuates your figure and shows off the right amount of cleavage. It was something that you could easily wear out in public, which again was a part of your brand in being as natural as possible, but come the right circumstances, when it was time to roll you could turn on the right switch.

“We’ll start off like a typical casting interview before we bring Bucky in and then we’ll go from there. Sounds good?” She runs down the plan with you, fixing a few strands of flyaway hairs on your head before back away from the bed. With a thumbs up and a smile from you, she starts recording.

“Welcome, Best New Starlet of the Year!” Wanda greets from behind the camera.

“Hi,” you politely reply with your signature sweet smile and a wave to the screen.

These scenes start off with a small interview recounting your tale into the porn industry leading up to your recent achievement and even delving a bit into your personal life before the topic changes to your co-star.

“So, how excited are you to work with Bucky today?”

No matter how hard you practiced at keeping a straight poker face, that was something you were unable to master from Natasha, and the blush couldn’t be contained.

Fidgeting at the hem of your top, you open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. You’re overly flustered at the thought of Bucky and he wasn’t even in front of you yet. You don’t want to sound like a fool and ruin the atmosphere. Wanda mouths words of advice from where she sat in the director’s chair, “be honest.”

“Um, I’m...nervous,” you say truthfully.

“Nervous?” She questions, urging you to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s Bucky Barnes! He’s hot and he’s got so much experience. I’m kind of scared I’ll be boring,” you finish explaining and hope to God that Natasha doesn’t kill you afterwards, or with that answer let Wanda down, but the smile on her face sends you a wave of assurance.

Maybe you could do this...

Earlier that day, Bucky had already recorded his little opening scene. Wanda had called him to report on set before you were scheduled to arrive.

On the contrary, Bucky was also a tab bit anxious to work with you. He’d seen some of your work and more so heard about your talent from his own best friend, Steve Rogers.

He didn’t deny it, he was very much attracted to you and he wanted a chance to work with you too. Bucky wasn’t a jealous person, which made working in the porn industry easy for him, but when he had to hear Steve recount his scenes with you, he couldn’t help but want to sock his own childhood friend. He didn’t of course, but the rage was evident and his other friend, Sam Wilson, took some sick pleasure in teasing him over it. In fact, the eccentric personality of the trio of friends, decided to tag along with Bucky to introduce himself to you and get under his skin a little more.

“What’s going on in that nasty head of yours?” Sam poked at Bucky as they made their way over to Wanda, who was by the camera setup going over a script with another stagehand. When Bucky doesn’t respond, it provokes Sam even more, “no way, you’re nervous!”

Bucky sighs fed up with dealing with the anxiety brewing ever since he found out he was going to star in this film with you. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Of course, I’m nervous,” he says, trying to remain calm.

“Dude, you’ve slept with some of the hottest people in the world and millions of people have seen you naked. Why is one girl any different?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know, ok. She just seems so down-to-earth and normal?” Bucky attempts to explain. You were real. His work was just that, it was a work, and he was afraid that it would be different with you. He could say he was almost intimidated by you.

“Yeah, as if I don’t have to hear that enough from Rogers…” Sam chimed in. Steve had nothing but high praise for your performance. In fact, his testimony helped expose you a little further. He was an honorable performer and a respected one, so they took his word on you. “Maybe, I’ll be her next co-star,” and just like that Sam ruined a moment.

“God, I hate you,” was the last thing exchanged between the two friends as they finally reached Wanda. She warned Sam to behave and gave Bucky a quick rundown before instructing him to hop on the bed.

Bucky’s interview starts a little differently than yours. Having already been a more established performer than yourself, no one needed his background story. The only thing Wanda wanted out of him was his plans and opinion on you.

“Well, I don’t know too much about her, personally speaking...but everyone seems to love her,” Bucky’s answer was a bit bland for Wanda.

“She’s a great person to work with,” she comments and that’s a tactic most directors used to get talent to keep talking.

“That’s what Steve keeps saying,” he says with somewhat of an awkward light laugh. He could see Sam facepalming next to Wanda at that lame answer.

“Yeah, you don’t win best female newcomer for nothing,” Wanda points out. If anyone was the lucky one here, it was Bucky. He was climbing up in age and you were the next big thing. You were the real star of this film not Bucky. She was counting more on you to deliver than him.

“That’s right. She’s a very talented performer,” Bucky says, and this small comment opens up a can of worms for Wanda to build up on.

“Oh, so you’ve seen some of her work?” Bam! He was caught.

Bucky’s mouth starts twitching slightly and Wanda and Sam are smirking from their spots as they watch the gears in Bucky’s mind start turning faster trying to think of something. The only piece of advice Wanda gives is “be honest.”

He sighs, the jig was up. Smooth Bucky Barnes was caught red-handed, “yeah, I’ve watched some scenes. I’ve seen her in person a few times too…”

“Wait,” Wanda interrupts him abruptly. She knew you were attracted to Bucky, but never knew of any encounters between you two, “when did you meet her?”

“I haven’t,” Bucky starts, which causes a look of mass confusion on Wanda’s face before he follows up, “formally. I haven’t met her formally, but I’ve seen her at a few parties and at the award show...I was just nervous to walk up to her,” the words just kept flowing out of his mouth and he inwardly cringed at how awkward he might’ve sounded.

Sam was amused by his embarrassment, but Wanda was pleased with this result. Bucky was good at what he did and that included him trying to play it cool, which he did well on screen, sometimes.

“You know she was actually thrilled to find out she would be working with you,” Wanda said, stretching the truth. The truth was, you hadn’t verbally confessed that, at least not yet.

“Really?” Bucky asks all too hopeful, his mood noticeably perking up.

“Yup! Ever since she won Best New Starlet of the Year, people have been lining up to book her, but she chose this project. You were the deal breaker, Barnes,” she fabricated and hoped this all worked out for you two in the end.

“Wow, who would’ve thought this has-been still had it in him?” He jokes at himself. His humility would get the best of him in every situation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You didn’t win Best Male Performer of the Year again for nothing!” Wanda says and then steers the interview to a close.

After wrapping up Bucky’s scene, he’s allowed to stay in another room with a monitor. At first, he thinks it’s to help him prep for the scene, but to his surprise it’s a live feed of your interview and he starts clinging onto your every word. Enthralled by your journey, work ethic and he gets flustered all over again hearing you talk about your equal eagerness to work with him.

“You know, if anyone is the lucky one in this situation, it’s Barnes,” Wanda reminds as your interview comes to an end.

“Right,” you sarcastically remark.

“Are you ready for us to bring Bucky in?” She asks.

“It’s now or never,” you reply. 

You watch the doorknob twist and the door open to slowly reveal Bucky. Where do you even start with him? He just looked like the total package. His gaze immediately on yours. As he makes his way towards the bed you’re still sitting on, when his knee comes in contact to the edge, you maneuver your body in his direction, sit up on your knees to meet him halfway and welcome him in a hug.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says when you pull apart. The both of you don’t break away completely. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, his hands placed just above your waist, you can feel his fingers that slipped under the fabric rub your skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you respond, giving him a genuine smile and can’t help but stare at his pretty face. You had to remind yourself he’s just another guy, except he wasn’t. You didn’t know how he felt, but you wanted this, wanted him. You also don’t know if you’ll ever work him again after today, so he was going to get the real you.

A small, subtle clearing of someone’s throat shatters the staring contest between you and Bucky causing you both to sheepishly break away from the other, not realizing you’d both allowed dreaded dead airtime to pass by. You scoot over to make room for him next to you on the bed. After he pulls his footwear off, he sits cross legged in front of you, you have one leg tucked in and the other extended in front.

Bucky’s not entirely oblivious. He not only witnessed you backstage reveal you were actually nervous to work with him, he could feel it, so at an attempt to help ease both your nerves, he places a hand on your shin and absentmindedly run his hand up and down the fabric, fingers sometimes stopping to mess with the cuff of your leggings and at the skin of your ankle, while he listened to you speak.

He congratulated you on your achievement as you did with him, both a blushing mess before diving into different topics like traveling and other interests.

Wanda stood proudly behind the camera watching the scene unfold. Everything was so candid and real between you and Bucky, the chemistry was clearly evident, she didn’t foresee there would be much directing on her part today, which was going to make her job easy.

“Wanda said you were excited to work with me,” Bucky teases, wanting to see if what you said was just for the cameras or if it was really true, but also, he found out he liked to see you get all hot and bothered in more than one way.

Your jaw drops and you look directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, calling out to Wanda. You playfully chastise and curse at her for revealing your secret. She tells you it was going to come out anyways, and while that was true, you’d hoped it was later and much after you’ve slept with him, hoping it doesn’t ruin the shoot, but Bucky assures you that it’s actually a flattering to hear or in his words, “assuring” for someone like him.

“Are you kidding?” You say, lightly shoving him back, “you’re like a legend! Of course, I was excited! I’m surprised you agreed to work with a rookie like me!” Now that the cat was out of the bag, you might as well own up to your secret.

“Everyone wants to work with you,” he makes clear, leaning in closer. Fuck, he didn’t even need to initiate foreplay because with the way he was looking at you right now, you could come swear you’d come undone for him in an instant.

“Oh really?” You challenge, your body gravitating like a magnet towards his.

“Yup, Steve wouldn’t shut up about you and even Sam said he can’t wait to someday work with you,” he said, voice slowly dropping in decibels and his hands sliding up your thighs.

“Did he?” You ask, but you don’t really care about Sam as your eyes look dead into Bucky’s blue ones, swirling into a darker shade full of deep want and desire.

“Yeah, but let’s see if he still wants to try to outdo me after I’m done with you,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between your lips in a sweet kiss. It was about as sweet as it could last because after just one taste of your lips, he was a starved man, hungry for more. You tried your best to match his pace and the kiss turned sloppy very quick.

You moaned at the pressure of his lips pressed roughly against yours, and you do your best to keep up, but you’re already finding yourself short of breath. However, the more you try to pull back to regain some oxygen, the more he’s unwilling to part as he grasps your face in both hands to keep you still, so you lightly squeeze at his biceps as a warning in hope he gets the message.

Lucky for you, he does and lets up. He’s also noticeably breathless, his warm breath fanning against your kiss-swollen lips, his forehead resting against yours. Bucky’s hands are still on your face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and you let out a small chuckle at the sincerity. He was cute.

You take his hands in yours and bring them back down to begin undressing him starting by helping him slip his shirt over his head, the fashionable dog tags around his neck clank as it slaps against his toned chest, you let him keep them on though.

Bucky sits up on his knees as he watches you settle on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, hands getting ready to work on his lower half. He patiently watches as you unbuckle his belt, pop the button of his jeans off, and drag the zipper down.

With his pants hanging loose off his hips, you begin to plant soft kisses along his navel down the defined lines that lead to his cock. Each contact of your lips sends a ghostly tingle and the blood to rush even quicker down his lower region. The imprint of his endowed member doesn’t leave much to your imagination, you can already see the stain where the tip is through his tight boxer briefs. It gives you a little boost of confidence knowing you’d caused this and would get to take care of it.

You hook your fingers into the undergarment and tug them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face causing you to jolt back a little and a smile to spread across Bucky’s.

Your clumsiness was also a part of your charm. It wasn’t on purpose, you were still learning after all, and that’s what made it so unique and fun to work with you. Your partners just felt a real, genuine connection, citing it felt less choreographed and of a porno with you.

A little embarrassed about that move, you’d watched what he can do with that cock, but nothing could’ve prepared you for it face-to-face. You don’t waste any time on getting your hands on him and wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock and start pumping him sensually.

He’s hot and soft in your hands before getting gradually heavy. The look in your eyes grows more predatory as you watch him grow and feel him getting harder with each pump causing more and more pre-cum to ooze out. You spread it all over the head of his cock with your thumb then daring to look up at him, hoping he was indeed enjoying your work, before you pucker your lips and kiss at the crown. Bucky curses when he sees your lips shining, coated in his pre-cum, with a string connecting you to his cock.

You gather the fluid up in your hand before spreading it all over his length, when it’s not enough you start not only pumping him faster, but also licking up and down, from the base to the tip, hoping to effectively slick him up. The way your tongue scrapes along over Bucky’s sensitive flesh stirs him up. Your other hand joins in to fondle with his neglected balls, massaging and pulling at them in the right moments, sometimes you travel a little south and take them in your mouth. It all but drives Bucky wild and it’s confirmed with each swear that leaves his mouth.

Bucky wants nothing more than to lodge himself deep in your throat, but he remembers he needs to go at your pace, and once you’re broken in a little more, you could follow his, so he’ll bide his time for now and watch you work.

When you’re ready to take him in, you regain his attention and he watches you slowly take in his inches down your mouth, stopping halfway before your wide-open mouth hollows out. Your full mouth immediately waters around him and it doesn’t take long before you’re a drooling mess all over his cock. You pull back torturously slow, looking back down watching his cock reappear and loving the way it disappears back in, and especially how it feels when it drags through your mouth, taking note of the veins and unique ridges.

“Don’t be like that, doll,” he says, wiping some of the hair away from your face, “come on and show me why they don’t stop talking about you,” he coaxes, now gathering some of your locks in his hand to completely give you both a clear view. He tries his best to not take the lead, but you don’t disappoint as your mouth works faster on him. The gagging and sucking, mixed with Bucky’s moans of pleasure soon become the soundtrack.

You’d gradually take him more and more in, close to deep throating him, and you’re just ready to let up, but he can’t help it and before your last round, he holds your head in place.

“Don’t quit now, baby,” he encourages you, placing his other hand on the back of your head, keeping you still and carefully starts to thrust his hips, urging you to take him all the way, “...that’s it, you can do it, you can take it,” he releases a big sigh feeling the tip of your nose bump his lower abdomen. The moisture builds up in the inner corner of your eyes and you do your best to mind your breathing and not choke.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but shout when he feels your throat contract around him. You just looked so divine, mouth full of his cock. He keeps you there for a few seconds, before releasing his hold, and you immediately pull back, drool dribbles down your chin, and you’re desperate for oxygen to return back into your system. He grabs your face by your chin forcing you to look up at him.

He uses his fingers to scoop up some of the mixed fluids of his arousal and your saliva at your chin before presenting it in front of you. You easily read his mind, look up at him with big, watery eyes, and take his coated digits in your abused mouth sucking the juices clean off him. 

He growls and commends you, “...such a good girl.” When he slips his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop could faintly be heard, he gently yanks at your hair, craning your head back further, it’s almost painful but you don’t care, “do it again,” he demands.

You bite your lip and reposition yourself. Bucky settles in a more comfortable position on his back, completely rid of his pants and underwear, his legs spread open for you to lie between them. Before you get back to the job, you slip your tight top off, all-natural breasts spilling out and on display for him. His cock twitches at the sight and he lets his head fall back when he’s once more fully encased in the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

When he finally starts begging you to let up, you pull back slowly pumping him and watch his every move, the rise of his chest as it heaves from the activity, the way he runs his hands over his face. He’s absolutely stunned by your performance so far.

“On your back,” he says, and you do as he commands, and forget who is supposed to really be in charge. He yanks your leggings and panties all the way down, chucking them behind him somewhere in the corner of the room.

“You’re so sexy,” he compliments, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, hands getting their fill. His body dips, lips latching onto your breasts, kissing at the skin and sucking on each nipple before they make their way up the juncture of your neck and claim your lips again.

You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and they part to grant him full access. You barely notice how he takes a hold of one of your hands, he pulls his face away to bring the hand in his grasp up to your face, using your fingers to trace the outline of your lips. You see him inaudibly instruct you to open your mouth, you do as you’re told.

“That’s right get those fingers nice and wet,” he coaxes you to suck on your own digits until he deems you ready for the next move. When he finally does pull your fingers out from your mouth, he extends your arm, ghosting them just over your pussy.

“Play with that clit,” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice. Your pussy was begging for any kind of attention. You let your wet fingers roll over the bundle of nerves, puffs of breath escape your body as you’re finally attending to your own needs.

Bucky sits back and watches you intently, fascinated by your every move. He instructs you to close your eyes and listen to his voice, instructing you to go slow at first, “does that feel good?” the only reply he gets is a fast nod, “yeah? Make yourself feel good...that’s it,” his words only encourage your fingers to soon work faster, “let me hear how good it feels,” he demands, and you moan and whine like the true pornstar you are, your circular motions speed up, the lewd noises egg him on and soon enough he wants a taste.

“Let me help you out,” and you feel the bed shift a bit, “spread those wet lips for me,” he requests. You use both hands to invite him into your wet, glistening hole. You pick your head up to see his face buried between your thighs, you watch just long enough until each broad lick up and down your pussy sends you close to the edge.

He no longer needs the support of your hands, and they find purchase in his dark, fluffy hair as he starts sucking on your clit and tonguing your folds. At first, you’re doing a good job keeping your legs apart to accommodate him, but it gets harder and harder for them to not clamp around his head, with every nudge the tip of his nose makes at your clit and it doesn’t help your case when he inserts a finger inside you. With a good curl, his finger scratches dangerously close to your sweet spot, causing your legs to start quivering.

The sudden hitch in your breathing catches his attention, and Bucky tests the waters more by digging in deeper and curling in further. He notices the increasing agitation and knows he’s found the trigger.

“Bucky,” you whine, hoping he doesn’t push you over just yet. You want to last longer, and so you reluctantly attempt to scoot back further away, but the sudden strong grip  he has around your leg locks you in place. You pick your head back up and find Bucky’s eyes trained on you. You see the stoic look in his eyes laced with determination. Oh no, he wanted you to come now. You feel a hum from his full mouth, only pushing you further.  

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your pussy, “let go,” and the gruff in his voice, vibrating against you, his thick digits still curled deep inside you, you can’t hold back the floodgates from bursting any longer.

He laps up your arousal as you desperately try to regain composure. He really pulled one out of you, proving he was as every bit good as he put out and you’re not even close to the end of this scene.  

“Come here,” he says, getting back on his knees and pulling you up by your arms so you’re in an up-right sitting position once again, but with Bucky still towering over you, “open up.”

You comply and open your mouth wide, tongue out, not understanding his motive, and you’re met with full surprise when he spits in your mouth, a firm grip on your face, he holds you still.

“Don’t swallow,” he gravely warns. You feel and probably look stupid not knowing what he wants you to do with your mouth open wide and full of his spit mingling with your arousal, just trying to keep it all contained. Bucky was testing your patience and obedience and you passed every test so far. You were just the right amount of submissive, absolutely perfect.

You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your sensitive pussy, it slides up between your folds and the base rests on top of your mound. “Drool it out...on my cock,” he instructs. Oh. He guides your gaze down between your bodies, you purse your lips, and both watch as the liquid cascades down onto his erect member. He uses it to lube himself up before he pushes you down to lie flat on your back.

Bucky slowly but easily slips inside your wet channel but notices your slight struggle. He was big, and he gets it. The way your eyes are tightly shut, hands pulling at the sheets, you struggle to breath and your walls cruelly grip him tight. Normally, he’d just pound away until his partner got used to him, but he didn’t want to do that with you. He wanted you to enjoy feeling him.

He tries to help you relax by rubbing your thighs a little with soothing motions, when they fall limp on either side, he leans down, you feel the cool metal of his dog tags against your heated skin, his weight sort of comforting on yours, and arms entrapping your head. He lovingly calls out your name, and your eyes flutter open, your attention refocusing on him.

“We’ll go at your pace, alright?” he assures you. You curse yourself for allowing your heart to swell at his concern, but you nod giving him permission to move slowly. Your whimpers soon transition into pleasurable moans, the more your body begins to adjust to his.

“Damn, you’re so tight. You’ve never been stretched out like this by anyone before have you?” he dares ask, once he sees it’s a safe playing field once more, his hips moving slow, his cock sliding in and out of you. You attempt at a laugh between your ragged breathing and the intense sensation coursing through you.

“No,” you respond and kiss at his chin, the light stubble pricking your soft lips, “you’re so big.” You feel his cock twitch inside and you want to curse yourself again at the comment that unintentionally riles him up because he was nestled close to your spot again. Fuck, he could reach just the right depth in you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you don’t want to go slow anymore. Fuck Wanda and this movie, you wanted all of Bucky now, “please fuck me,” you resort to begging. He inwardly growls and his hips start snapping forward, thrusts growing hard and uncalculated. You just lie there and allow him to use your pussy for his pleasure.

Bucky’s movements falter a bit in this position, so he steers both your bodies on their sides, still facing each other, he slings your leg high up over his hips, and resumes his task. His cock glides right back in your pussy and the new angle causes you to yelp and walls to clench around him.

“You feel so good,” his voice riddled with so much lust as he brings your body closer to his with a hand behind, full of your plushest asset. Your head rests on the bicep of his other arm that was underneath it.

Bucky’s expressive eyes ask you if you're close, and the more your walls continue to grip him, he starts begging for you to come with him. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, giving up and letting you take the rest of the lead.

“Yeah?” you huff out, your fingers digging into the side of his hips, “you want to cum inside me?” You know he does; you can feel and see it written all over him, but you want to just poke at him like he had with you, “I want you to...I want all your cum inside me, Bucky,” and you wanted him to cum hard, deep inside, “fill my tight pussy up, please,” you plead.

With one more jab of his hips, your back arches and head is thrown back, you can’t help but let out a scream as your orgasm rips right through you like it’s never before. Bucky’s body on the other hand caves into yours, feeling almost paralyzed as your tight walls hold him in place and all he can do is bury his face into the sweaty skin of your neck.

His mouth hangs open, a plethora of profanities coming out of him, and he waits for his cock to finish spewing ropes of his hot, thick cum into you. Your walls can’t help but to involuntarily contract in small aftershocks, especially when he’s still coming.

Bucky continues to moan as he does as you hoped, he came hard and deep inside you. When you’ve both finally come down from the high, it’s silent, and even though you’d both long forgotten you were on a set with multiple people watching you two, they were also quiet, completely taken back by the performance.

Incoherent cries come out of each of you, when Bucky agonizingly pulls his cock out. For the most part you’re able to keep him inside, but he’d proven to come so much some of it seeps out and runs down in streak fashion along your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

In your last act, as your gazes meet each other again, your fingers dip inside your soaked cunt and coat them. Hypnotized by you, Bucky watches as you greedily suck off his essence from your digits, and you evoke a small hum in his favor at the taste bursting in your mouth.  

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, trying to not lose it again. When your hand disappears, he tenderly wipes the matted hair away from your face, smoothing your hair back before pulling your body close again, swooping your lips for a deep kiss.

“Shit, you’re good,” he admits, when he pulls away, effectively breaking the blissful silence. You bust out in a fit of giggles beside him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not something you’re supposed to feel towards your co-star, especially in the porn industry.    

He smiles at you, basking in your afterglow and all he knows is that he wants to feel this high with you over and over, so he decides to risk it all, “I hope this doesn’t ruin the moment, but can I take you out some time?”

You try your best to read him, wondering if he was just still in the heat of the moment. Either he’s really good or he’s being sincere, you can’t tell and you’re hoping you’re not overthinking it, but his eyes, this whole time, were what gave him away. He performed with them and he definitely spoke through them.

Before you could accept and give him a definite answer, you’re both brought back to reality, “we’re still rolling here!” Wanda reminds.

A/N: Thank the pain meds for this. I think I effectively used up my vacation days the right way, won’t you agree? Likes, reblogs and comments/emojis are appreciated! 

[sinner-as-saint]

Let Me Love You.

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader AU.

Run-through: Things happened between you and your boss over a weekend recently; while on a business trip. Boundaries were crossed, lines were blurred – rather salaciously. Following this; you decide to resign from your dream job because you couldn’t handle the guilt of having been so unethical. So vulnerable and open. Neither could you handle his burning stare at work, nor the craving of being under him each time you looked at him. So you decide to leave before you ruin your own career and further. But then, your boss shows up at your doorstep – determined to make you realize that this isn’t so bad after all…

Themes: smut, fluff, ceo!bucky (because I miss him)

You felt awful as you stepped into your apartment.

Sighing as you looked around; thinking about how the job you just quit had paid for this lavish home you owned currently. Removing your shoes by the door, dropping your bag and keys beside them you lazily crossed your spacious living room and stepped into the main balcony.

Given you were high up, the view you had of the city was to die for. The sun was going down, and usually you loved sunsets but you couldn’t appreciate this one as much as you wanted to. You were stressed; now jobless.

You thought back to the past week you had just hustled through. Monday was weird; he avoided you like the plague. Tuesday was the same, except you caught him staring in your direction while in a rather important meeting. Wednesday, he still didn’t say a word – except for his usual demands which being his PA you had to meet. Thursday he didn’t come to work; which then gave you more time to think about everything which happened recently, allowing you more time to feel guilty and weird.

And today, given it was Friday he was the busiest he’s been all week. Yet despite that, he managed to send you looks which spoke volumes even in crowded rooms. And you couldn’t take it anymore. You believed you were someone who wouldn’t be able to mix work and pleasure and find a healthy balance, so for the sake of your own peace of mind; you produced a resignation letter and placed it on his desk when he wasn’t in his office. And you left for the day.

You knew he always lingered at his office for a while longer on Fridays. So you were sure that by now he must have found your letter. You wondered if he felt just as awkward and weird as you did, and if so, then he’d accept your resignation without any hesitation.

You sighed one more time, taking in the cool air and the orange-pinkish sky. You walked back inside and decided that soaking in warm water and essential oils would make you feel a little better. So that’s what you went for.

 Thoughts of him filled your head as you soaked in the warm bath water. Your boss. James Buchanan Barnes; powerful name for an equally powerful man. He was the kind of person you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Respect, fame, wealth, authority, power; he had it all.

And recently, just a week ago, he had taken over you as well…

-Flashback-

Friday morning you came to work and found out that you would be accompanying your boss on a short business trip. You didn’t make a fuss, even if it meant sacrificing your days off. The paycheck you received each month made up perfectly well for it.

Paris for weekend, to attend a business conference didn’t sound so bad after all.

“Sir, I’ve just been notified that you’ve cancelled the hotel reservations?” you questioned while scrolling through your mails. While you were just a little confused by this, the man in front of you was clearly not.

Sat across you on the dark seat; well-groomed as always – dark suit, perfect hair, perfect face, strong jaw and strong built. He looked like he could be on a magazine cover. Pure, drop dead gorgeous male. Many of your friends often asked you how you kept your calm and composure around him, and how could you not want to jump his bones all the time. To which you answered; you didn’t see your handsome boss in that light.

But oh did you lie.

You were human. And you did find your boss to be super attractive just like the rest of the world did. But did you do anything about it? No. Firstly, that would be highly unprofessional. Secondly, he was way out of your league. Still, it was hard being around a man this handsome. Knowing he was single and available made it worse.

“I did.” he answered, just as confidently as he did everything else. “It’s just one night, Y/N. We’ll stay at my penthouse.” He stated.

You nodded and replied back to your assistant who had initially emailed you about this sudden change. ‘We’ll stay at my penthouse’…

You had shared residence before. Once you spent the night at his mansion because of work load. Then another time you two shared a cabin while on a trip. Once you shared a hotel room because separate rooms weren’t available. But this, today seemed a little different. And you couldn’t place a finger on what it was.

It didn’t rub you the wrong way or anything. He just seemed so cheery, which was unlike the normally slightly grumpy man. But then again, who were you to question his decisions? So you went along.

You two landed in Paris on Saturday morning. The conference was to be held on the same evening, followed by a formal party of some sort, then the two of you would be making your way back home by Sunday evening. Quite a tame weekend… until it wasn’t.

 Throughout the whole conference, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from across the room. Meanwhile you were talking to an acquaintance – legal advisor of one of the many businessmen who were attending the same conference as your boss. Steve was a friend of a friend but you two were currently bonding more and more due to work.

And little did you know, that Bucky hated it.

He was watching. He’s always watching you. Not in a creepy manner, in a protective way. As a woman, you were somewhat oblivious to the effect you had on people when you entered a room. You never noticed it, but your boss did.

Bucky knew how every man turned their heads to look at you. How every woman envied you. And it was never about what you wore, or how you did your hair. It was always about how you carried yourself, how you walked so confidently, how you were always polite and proper. And so beautiful.

As much as he liked showing you off, Bucky hated it when he wasn’t the only one who had all your attention. Like right now. He clenched his jaw as he studied how this man approached you. Blonde hair, tall and muscular – Bucky hated him immediately. He hated him a little more after he saw how the guy hugged you; a lingering hug which Bucky never got. Then he hated him a little more when he saw how you dragged your hands down the guy’s arm, refusing to let go of him.

You never touched him like that. Bucky asked someone close by and he was told that the guy you were talking to was someone named Steve Rogers, and he was a lawyer and an acquaintance of yours.

Hmm.

He tried to look away but he couldn’t. Bucky envied the guy talking to you. He didn’t like how close he was standing to you. He didn’t like how he kept his hands at your elbows so gently, caging you, keeping you to himself. He hated it.

 Then he asked you about it on the elevator, as you two made your way up to his penthouse to get changed and ready for the party later.

“You know Rogers?” he asked out of nowhere. His tone just as serious and cold as always.

“Yes. He’s… a friend.” You smiled innocently, thinking back to how you and Steve had successfully broken the ice earlier.

Silence.

 You each took a room inside his lavish penthouse apartment. You immediately loved the place. You had about two hours before the party so there was no need to rush. You took your time, yet your mind couldn’t help but drift towards how your boss has been acting in the past hours. First he was all cheery and warm, and now he’s back to his grumpy self.

Oh well.

You stepped out of your room just in time, your boss was waiting by the foyer dressed in a signature, all black, 3-piece suit. He looked devilishly handsome.

“You look lovely, Y/N.” He said softly as you walked towards him. You couldn’t help but smile and tried to hide your face by looking down at the marble floor. Before you could recover from his rare compliment, he reached for your hand and walked the two of your towards the elevator again.

You noticed it then. The shift between the two of you.

The party was amazing. Lovely people, lovely music, nice conversations; what more does one need? Then again, you could still feel a pair of eyes on you. At some point, you dared to look up and you made eye contact with your boss.

He was staring with an unreadable expression on his face. You shook it off and went back to the conversation you were currently part of, but you could tell he hadn’t stopped staring at you.

 You two met on the elevator again after the party, on your way up for the night.

“You and Rogers seem close.” He pointed out.

You were surprised at the tone he used – that of disgust and anger. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

He scoffed, then turned to you. “Is something going on between you two?” Same tone as before.

Your eyes widened. “No. No, what makes you say that?” part of you wondered why the hell was he so suddenly interested in your personal life.

“Just asking.”

You couldn’t help it. “Are you alright, Mr. Barnes? You haven’t been yourself in the past-,”

He cut you off abruptly. By backing you into the corner of the elevator, the cold metal pressing against your back as his warm hand held you gently at your waist.

“Am I alright?” he mocked in that authoritative voice of his. “No, Miss Y/N. I’m not alright.” He confessed. “I’m not alright with you being so close to me, yet not being able to touch you. I’m not alright with seeing other men making you smile,” he inched his face closer you yours, “making you laugh, dance with you, touch you like I can’t. I hate it.”

His warm breath fanned your face. And as the metal cage got higher and higher, your heartbeat increased in the same tempo. Racing. Rushing. Your thoughts were a mess. Your body was tingling, he was so close. Too close. And you could feel yourself giving into him already.

And you did eventually.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you asked in a whisper, and you heard his little chuckle under his breath. This could be a wrong idea, but it felt right. You looked up into his piercing stormy blue eyes and you saw it; the hunger, the desire, the need.

You were sure yours mirrored the same emotions. Bucky pulled away just for a second, to press the key to stop the elevator from moving upwards any further. Then he turned to you again. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered against your parted lips, barely touching them with his own but the proximity was enough to make you lightheaded.

You nodded quickly and his mouth was on yours immediately. His lips moved against yours perfectly. He slipped his tongue past your lips and stroked the top of your mouth, driving you crazy. His kiss was just how you imagined it would be; hot, passionate, and exciting.

Your hands found their way into his hair and your fingers ran through his soft locks. He pushed his muscular body into yours even more and you gasped as you felt how close he actually was. His body heat wrapping around you.

His hands slowly reached up and slid the straps of your satin gown down your shoulders, letting it fall and bunch around your waist. He had been wanting to do that all night, especially since he saw you dancing with that guy Steve.

Bucky smirked at the sight of the flimsy, lacy lingerie you had on; which he was sure he could tear off your body in less than a second. And he did, allowing the thin material to fall to the floor. He gently touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. His lips trailing down your neck; kissing, licking and biting.

His mouth didn’t leave your skin as his hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. His hand slipped into your underwear with no shame, his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He chuckled upon feeling just how aroused you were. “So perfect…” he whispered.

He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. You whimpered quietly against him; your gown barely covered your body. But Bucky was nowhere near complaining. In fact, he had been thinking about what you looked like under that dress since the first time he saw you this evening.

His hand gently wrapped around your throat. He gave it a little squeeze and an involuntary, playful smile formed on your face. His smirk grew, and so did the fire in him. “Like it when I choke you, huh doll?” he spoke, dragging the tip of his nose along your jaw as his other hand slipped under your skirt and rubbed your clothed core. He couldn’t take it any longer. “I need to have you.” he growled. “Now.”

He pushed his two fingers past your entrance with ease and moaned right in your ear as he felt your wet and warm walls immediately welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots which made you weak in the knees. You bucked your hips against his hand involuntarily, and he chuckled as you moaned out loud while he touched you.

Feeling more confident than earlier, you quickly unbuttoned his pants, palming him through his underwear and feeling his erection. You smirked to yourself as he grunted the moment you touched him.

“I want you…” you mumbled breathlessly. All your worries and overthinking left behind, you wanted him bad. And that’s all you could think of at the moment.

Bucky smirked. He lowered his pants and underwear, then he hurried in pulling down your underwear, letting it all fall and pool around your ankles. You stepped out of it and Bucky picked you up by your thighs and kissed you deeply while holding you between him and the metal surface tightly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms held on to him tightly. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you whimpered through the kiss. Bucky needed to be in you already, all he wanted was to hear you scream his name as you cum around him. So he wasted no time in aligning his throbbing tip to your dripping wet entrance.

He pushed himself into you; stretching you out. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours scratching at his shoulders as he filled you up; making you whine and moan as he went. You were both gasping by the time he filled you up entirely. His body didn’t feel as foreign as you expected. You two fit perfectly.

Bucky started rocking in and out of you, without wasting any time. You felt all of him; your walls clenched around his thick cock as he started out with slow strokes and then gradually sped up into you. You felt all of him, the bumpy and the velvety skin of his length. He was perfect as he stroked your walls with his pulsating cock. You were a moaning mess in no time.  

His strong arms supported you up by grabbing you at the curve of your ass; holding you against him, as he sped up into you; showing you how much he missed you. He pushed his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath, all while occasionally mumbling how much he loves you and how good you feel wrapped around him.

He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your hand slid into his hair and you tugged on it each time he pushed into you. You soon felt the familiar pressure forming; pressing inside you as the familiar warmth spread all over your body. You moaned wantonly.

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure; your mind a foggy mess. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace; earning even more moans and mewls from you.

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust; it hurt just a little. Your body moved along with his like a rag doll. And you never complained once. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused and the sounds of your skin clapping against each other – it was all too sinful.

He moaned right into your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back like it always did no matter where he took you. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you relentlessly. The pleasure built nicely as he took you higher… and higher… and higher. Until you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.  

And that was one of the many times he made you cum around him that night…

 -End of flashback-

 Fuck…

You shivered in the warm water at the thought of him deep inside you; how perfect he felt, and how you never wanted to leave that bed with him in it. But then, you thought about how wrong that was; how you shouldn’t have gotten so intimate and personal with your boss. It was wrong, and unethical and a terrible mistake. But it felt good…

Stepping out of your bathroom, wrapped in a soft robe, you felt chills all over your body. Not because of the temperature, but because it felt as though you suddenly weren’t alone in your home. You panicked for a moment. Your heart racing, your thoughts racing faster.

Then you sensed it.

Sensed him.

He was here.

 “Miss Y/N.” He spoke in that damn voice which could make you drop to your knees in less than a second.

Yet you managed to maintain your composure as you slowly turned around to face him. Realization hit you a little late, and you gasped under your breath when you finally saw him standing in the middle of your bedroom. Your initial reaction was to hug your robe tighter around your body.

He looked flawless and powerful as always. Hands shoved in his pockets; accentuating his broad shoulders. That gorgeous smirk on his face. Flawless hair. Flawless face. Bucky smirked. “Oh don’t hide from me. I’ve seen it all, haven’t I?” he teased so effortlessly.

You felt your face getting hotter under his intense gaze. “How did you… how-,”

He cut off your rambling. “I own the building, doll.” he answered like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Right. Of course he owns your apartment building. He also owns half the city.

There was an air of arrogance around him at all times. And you tried so hard to hate it, but you couldn’t. It suited him; the arrogance, the power, the authority. And he sure knew how and when to use it.

You cleared your throat as you kept your eyes focused on the ground, rather than look into his stormy blues ones because they were a new weakness of yours. “You shouldn’t be here.” You mumbled, not hating that he was here.

He scoffed. “Oh?” he raised an eyebrow at you and took a few steps towards you. You were surprisingly not hysterical about the fact that this handsome man found his way into your home out of nowhere. He walked over to you, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him.

You had no other choice but to look up into his ocean blue eyes and you could feel yourself melting already. He pulled you closer and leaned in, gently kissing along your jaw repeatedly. You closed your eyes and tried your hardest not to sigh in pleasure or moan as you felt the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble altogether.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered against your skin, stopping for a moment and kissed you at the corner of your mouth. His arms circled around you, holding you close to him. Your arms circled around him as well, slowly. You realized you had missed him as well. His warmth, his voice, his mouth. All of him.

And just like that, he took over your very being again. One touch of his lips and you were under his spell with no intention of making it out anytime soon. “I missed you too…” you whispered breathlessly as he kissed your lips gently.

But those few words from you triggered something in him. An irritation he had carried inside since he saw that letter of yours on his desk. Overflowing emotions he couldn’t handle; due to which he was here in the first place.

“Yeah?” he whispered through the kiss, then slide his hand into your hair and tugged on it to pull your face away from his. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you. He was conflicted, should he be mad that you even dared to think you could just leave him, or should he just fuck some sense into you? “Yet you dared to leave me your resignation with no warning?” Oh. “Huh? Is that how it is now, you think you get to decide everything?”

Oh. So he was mad.

“I didn’t mean-,”

He kept going. “Shut up, babygirl.” He spoke softly. “Now you listen to me,” he inched closer, gently biting your lower lip, “You’re not leaving me. You’re not resigning. You’re not going anywhere.” He stated, then pulled away to look at you again.

There was a fire in his deep blue eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.” You tried to come up with something. An excuse. You were looking for an excuse.

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong.”

He scoffed and then smirked again. “Is it? Does being with me feel so wrong to you now, huh?” he cooed, knowing it was only a matter of another minute or two before you give into him. “That wasn’t the case this past weekend, was it?” He moved the two of you backwards, towards your bed in the middle of the room.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for too long now. But you still tried, in vain. You sighed loudly, wrapped in his strong embrace. “You’re my boss.”

He chuckled. “I know that.”

“Exactly.”

“What?” he questioned, already untying your robe as he stopped at the end of your bed.

“You know what. How are we supposed to be professional at work if we’re sleeping together?” you asked.

He smirked looking down at you. “Then let’s not be professional.”

You sighed again. “It’s-,”

He cut you off with a kiss again, sliding your robe down your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Shh.” And just like that, you melted under his touch. “It’s okay babygirl, let me take care of you.”

He pushed you down on your bed and held your stare as he undressed himself; smirking as he watched how you grew more and more desperate with each item of clothing he took off. He hovered on top of you in no time.

Bucky lowered his face; pressing his forehead onto yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“Fuck…”

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours.

He removed himself and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you.

“Thought you could just leave me, huh? Thought I would let you?” he mumbled right in your ear as he fucked you relentlessly. “You thought I would let you go? Let someone else touch you, pleasure you, fuck you like this? Did you babygirl?” he growled. “Answer me!”

You whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. “No… please I didn’t-” you were breathless. You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. Your body moved against his like a rag doll.

He growled at how your walls clenched around him. “What? You didn’t what? You didn’t think I’d come back looking for you? You thought I would just let you go because you asked for it?” he accidentally let out a moan, followed by swear words. “You think you make the rules here, doll?”

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His blue eyes were wild and fierce; staring deep into your soul. His gaze made you tremble in pleasure. He looked so powerful. Broad and strong, hovering above you, his cock buried deep in you. Looking down at you like he owned you.

He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.

Your legs trembled as you lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you, and in the haze he was in, he managed to mumble right in your ear about how good you felt. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough.

 At some point, right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he removed himself from you and flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips. He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again.

You moaned out loud at the new sensation of him rocking into you from behind. Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the thrill each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he bent down to whisper in your ear, “Can you feel me deep within you?” he boasted as he gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

“Please…” You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. And finally he let you, and you came undone all around him – moaning his name out loud.

-

You woke up an hour later, the sky was darker and you felt a lot better than you had all week. You turned to your side and found your handsome boss passed out next to you. A smile formed on your face involuntarily.

“Don’t just look, you can touch too.” His gruff voice spoke up a second later, his eyes still closed. You chuckled and snuggled closer to him.

“So what now?” you asked, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. His body heat was something you were quickly getting used to.

He took a deep breath, smiled and lazily reached over to place a kiss on your forehead. “Now you let me love you.”

[shepherds-of-haven]

So I follow MANY interactive fiction blogs and I just have to say that you're my favorite by a long shot because I just love answers that you give in response to hypothetical scenarios and AU's for your characters. Like you actually put in effort and give well-thought out answers, so I thank you for that. As for AU's I have one of my own if you don't mind please. What would be the RO's for a murder mystery a la Cluedo? Bonus points that they can't leave the mansion for extra chaos. Thank you!

Ah, thank you so much for your kind words! 💖 I'm lucky to be a part of such a great community of talented creatives and kind, genuinely awesome people! Interacting with readers is such a pleasure, even if I do fall behind on messages and such I'm so sorry

I'm in North America, so I was genuinely like "what on Earth is Cluedo" gkljglfdjgd only because it's called Clue where I'm from! But I, uh, never played it, so I'm just going to go off of my knowledge from Knives Out 😂

SETTING: a Southern Gothic mansion in an undisclosed location, owned by a woman only referred to in jest as The Autarch by her adopted children. It is a stately manor, richly furnished and glittering with wealth, though imposing and dark-windowed during storms.

CONTEXT: a powerful and wealthy tycoon referred to only as "The Autarch" or "The Iron Lady" was once feared across the country for her ruthless business dealings and formidable empire. In her middle age, a mysterious experience and the sudden death of her husband caused her to have a change of heart, abruptly abandoning her empire to her only son and devoting her life to adopting six orphan children. However, stopping her business dealings did not completely change her personality: she was a hard, unforgiving woman, and her relationships to her children (now all grown) can be described as "strained" at best.

In her declining age, the lonely Autarch in her high mansion somehow came to befriend a psychic by the name of Mimir of the Silver Eye. Only the servants were witness to what was said between them, and even then, they never had the full story. The most that anyone knew was that the Autarch began to express more interest in resuming her business activities again, to the disconcertion of her only biological son, Enik, who had helmed the empire on his own for the last twenty years. Meanwhile, Mimir moved into the mansion to keep her older friend company, and to help advise her on matters both business and personal.

One stormy night, the Autarch calls all 7 of her children back home in order to discuss matters of great importance, including her decisions about her will. Some came eagerly, and others with great reluctance--there were arguments had that were years in coming, and there were private talks between siblings who hadn't interacted in years. But the matter that the Autarch was keen to discuss was postponed: the storm knocked out the power in the mansion, and all turned into bed, sleeping fitfully in rooms they'd abandoned decades earlier.

They never discovered why the Autarch had called them to their old haunting grounds, either, for in the morning, she was found with a knife buried in her heart.

CHARACTERS:

- Riel Syndran. A world-famous private detective and consultant famed across the world for his ability to solve any mystery, no matter how old or tangled. He is known for being comfortable with ruthlessly manipulating interrogation subjects and suspects in order to extract the truth and solve his case no matter what; this obsession and willingness to massage the rules--although he claims the truth is his only goal, above all other things--is what makes him unsuitable for conventional police work, but his results speak for themselves. He arrives on the mansion's doorstep mere minutes after the Autarch is found murdered and is claimed to have been hired by an anonymous party, casting suspicion on his timing and the pre-planned nature of the death. His signature move is being recognized by various people as "the detective who solved the Apple Killer case" (or some other famous case of his) and replying in irritable tones that it was actually "the Orange Killer case, but you were close". He abhors smoking and has doctorates in body language analysis and psychology, as well as a law degree, and is gifted with a photographic memory. He picks invisible lint off of his sleeves while he thinks.

- Blade Bronwyn. An FBI agent (think Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks) who has been in the town of Old Haven investigating a string of serial killings across the country. He hears about the murder of the Autarch from the local police and arrives at the manor a mere hour after they were alerted, keen to investigate the murder as part of his ongoing case. He plays the straight man to Riel's more eccentric detection methods, and is seen more as a serious, by-the-books rule-follower determined to get answers. The suspects in the manor find him to be emotionally-insensitive, blunt, and grim-faced. He has a better sense of smell and sight than Riel does, as well as more combat experience, and is the only person in the manor acknowledged to be carrying a weapon. He takes his coffee black and very strong.

- Enik Goldenson. The Autarch's only biological child and the oldest. He was granted full control of her holdings and business empire when she retired in order to focus on raising her new family. He has made his disdain of his adopted siblings very clear, not least because he resents having to share his future inheritance with them. He has historically been a bully and cruel towards his mother. Rumor had it that he was once studying to become a priest. He has avoided returning to the mansion ever since Trouble knocked his lights out at fourteen years of age. He was once briefly engaged to fellow heiress Lavinet Naveen, who eventually spurned him, finding him "repulsive." He has the most bad blood among anyone in the family and is considered one of the prime suspects in the Autarch's murder, as it was possible that she may planned to cut him out of the will. Blade places his suspect status as RED while Riel believes he is at an ORANGE: Enik may be far too clever to kill his own mother under such suspicious and bloody circumstances.

- Trouble Alder. The first of the Autarch's adopted children, he was once an urchin running a street-fighting racket on the streets of New Haven. He was nicknamed Trouble for his surly temper and quick ability to get into fights and settle things with his fists, necessitating being sent off to a military boarding school in an effort to curb his violent tendencies as a teenager. He is extremely protective of his other adopted siblings, and while he resented the Autarch in his youth, he has begrudgingly come to respect her more for taking him in as an adult. He now works as a decorated sniper in the military and is working to earn his pilot's wings. The revelation that he kept military weapons in his room casts suspicion on him as a murder suspect, though Riel quickly dismisses him as not being a good enough liar to get away with it.

- Tallys Ironwood. The second of the Autarch's adopted children, she made her hatred of the old woman very well known, and had an even poorer relationship with her than Enik did. Tallys's parents were victims in an accident caused by one of the Autarch's manufacturing plants, and she has always felt that her subsequent adoption was mere lip service to atonement for the Autarch, while she would have rather stayed with her more impoverished aunts and uncles. She ran away multiple times in her youth and has not spoken to the Autarch since she was 18. Her overt hatred and reluctance in coming back to the mansion casts suspicion on her as a murder suspect. She has a degree in plant science and works as an environmental activist, particularly targeting products and campaigns by Enik's company, creating unspeakable friction between them.

- Ayla Aescar. The third of the Autarch's adopted children, nothing is known about her biological parents. She was adopted from a neighboring country and has since returned to it as an adult, making an effort to reconnect with her origins and culture. Her relationship with "the old woman," as she calls her, was more neutral, though it comes out that the Autarch frequently bailed her out in secret whenever Ayla ran into trouble, such as trespassing on Jalis government grounds. Nominally, she works as a photographer for a travel magazine, but secretly, she is an investigative photojournalist looking into various covert practices by the Jalis government. This brings up a question of whether the Autarch's killing was political, and whether it was actually meant for Ayla.

- Chase Trinaeste. The fourth of the Autarch's adopted children, it's joked that he was intended to replace Trouble when he was sent off to boarding school due to having a more charming personality and sweeter face. However, he ended up being the most troublesome one of the bunch, having multiple run-ins with the law from a young age and displaying various tendencies towards larceny, grand theft auto, and more. He had no shame about stealing and pawning off valuables from the mansion and was a well-known skirt-chaser, leading to constant stress in their household about what he was getting up to when he snuck out of the house at night. At eighteen, he disappeared from the mansion, and no one has heard from him in the intervening years since. He completely ducks any questions from Riel or Blade about what he does for a living, leading most to conclude that he has gotten himself deeper entrenched in the criminal underworld. This has cast obvious suspicion on him and his involvement in the murder, as he was known to steal from the Autarch herself. He seems to feel some measure of loyalty and possibly remorse towards his adopted siblings, but hides it well under a polished veneer of charm and casual swagger.

- Briony Stormbreaker. The fifth of the Autarch's adopted children In a dramatic fashion, she was discovered as a young child swept away in a huge flood caused by a storm, with no ability to communicate (or seemingly remember) anything about where she could have lived or who her family was. She was subsequently adopted by the Autarch and is one of the few who had a fairly good relationship with her, always expressing gratitude for giving her a home and family (though this brought her into conflict with siblings like Tallys, as she usually tried to defend the Autarch when she wasn't there to speak for herself). She was the sibling who always tried to unite the others, and their constant arguments and conflicts constantly broke her heart. She was an easily-upset child who tended to be babied by Trouble and Chase, but after constantly bullying from Croelle and Enik, she toughened up and began taking martial arts classes, abruptly displaying her own ferocious temper and violent streak as well as unusually powerful physical strength. She currently works as a passionate public prosecutor. She was heard conversing with the Autarch privately with raised voices, on the night of the murder, and is known to sleepwalk during violent storms. She even had a phase with an imaginary, sword-shaped friend as a child, as well as repeatedly claimed that she's seen ghosts in the manor. This perceived paranoia has led some to wonder whether she could have harmed the Autarch in her sleep. As Riel says, "It's always the nice ones." Blade: "Not in my experience." Riel: "Not in mine, either, but in some continuity, it must be true."

- Croelle. The last of the Autarch's adopted children. He was by far the most anti-social and troubled part of the family, refusing to speak to those he deemed beneath him and breaking Trouble's arm in a disturbing display of dominance as youths. Unlike Enik, his cruelty is more ruthless and matter-of-fact, the way an animal might treat another animal, rather than pointed and manipulative. Regardless, he was a terror to all of the other siblings, and he was eventually thrown in juvenile detention (and later prison) for killing members of a gang, seemingly in self-defense. However, he never cared to divulge the full details of the story, and has been serving his sentence ever since. No one besides the Autarch knew that he was coming until they arrived at the manor. Croelle claims that he and the Autarch had been exchanging letters for the last few years, and that he has begrudgingly allowed her back into his life, which was why she decided to invite him to this gathering upon his release from prison. However, there is currently no evidence that any such letters exist. As an adult, he is currently quieter and more mellow and has shown no particular proclivity towards violence, but there is always a sense of danger lurking in his eye regardless. His social skills have not improved by much. He is considered one of the absolute top suspects for the old woman's murder. His feelings on his adopted siblings or really anything are extremely unknown. He keeps asking everyone about free will, which annoys everyone except Riel.

- Shery Acquell. A longtime maid for the Autarch and one of her closest friends and confidantes. She alone has been caring for the Autarch in her declining health, ensuring that she has been receiving the proper medical care and dietary attentions, and even reading her books in the evenings. Their closeness has led some to speculate that the Autarch may have bequeathed a part of her inheritance to the maid, or that perhaps Shery was motivated to ingratiate herself to the Autarch to attain said inheritance. She was the last person to see the Autarch before her death, knows something about what transpired between her and Mimir, and ultimately reluctantly admits that she believes in the ghosts that Briony has seen, too.

- Halek Prince. The manor's live-in chef. He is one of the few non-family members staying in the mansion the night of the murder, and suspicion is cast on him when his cooking seemingly gives Ayla, Briony, and Red an allergy attack, leading some to posit attempts at poisoning. Mimir claims to have seen him in places where he shouldn't be or even couldn't be, and he is generally someone viewed as a good suspect for the murder. Riel thinks something else is going on here.

- Red Antiqua. Ayla's journalist partner who accompanied her to the mansion, partly to serve as a buffer for the family awkwardness and partly because he was curious to learn more about the reclusive Autarch. Nominally, he is a travel writer, but secretly, he is working as the same kind of investigative journalist that she is. His secret photographs of the manor prove to be a key piece of evidence in uncovering the murder suspect. He is forced to be confined to the manor, the same as everyone else, to prevent information leaks or runaways. He uncovers a secret doorway in his room and is too curious not to duck into it...

- Caine Tavadon. The son of the manor's groundskeeper, he is often seen with his dog, peeping into the windows of the manor because he's incorrigibly nosy. His witness statements lead Blade and Riel to key footprints on the grounds. He claims to have seen a strange figure staring down at him from the windows of the mansion before.

- Prihine Naveen. Enik's current fiancee, she accompanied him on this odious visit to his mother's manor and is a witness in the proceedings. Although they can barely tolerate each other, their shared ambitions for wealth and power keep them together as a polite though distant couple. A file in the Autarch's study reveals that she has been watching Prihine for some time and discovered that she was having a secret affair. The file indicates that she planned to tell Enik face-to-face, leading others to speculate that Prihine may have murdered the old woman in order to preserve her engagement. Enik remarks that there was a period of time where Prihine was not in bed.

- Lavinet Naveen. Prihine's older cousin, and Enik's ex-fiancee. They've technically known each other since they were children and were schoolmates at the same prestigious institution. The Autarch and Lavinet's father initially had designs to marry the two to forge a powerful alliance between their business empires. However, Lavinet quickly backed out of the engagement, finally admitting that she couldn't stand Enik and would never marry him. Although this has generally caused relations between the two families to become frosty, she has strangely remained on good terms with the Autarch herself, who always admired Lavinet's chutzpah and steely will. (This was just another reason for Enik to hate his own mother.) Lavinet was free to come and go to the manor as she pleased, and dropped in on the Autarch once every few months, as her family's manor is nearby. She only recently discovered that her own cousin, Prihine, is now engaged to her ex, and rushed over on the night of the murder in order to dissuade Prihine from the marriage or convince the Autarch to put a stop to it. This led to a four-way argument (between Lavinet, Prihine, Enik, and his mother) of epic proportions, meaning that Lavinet is not clear on suspicions of murder, either.

- Mimir. The psychic who somehow came into contact with the Autarch and began to convert her to the ways of the supernatural. She has been the Autarch's closest friend and confidant for months, even going so far as to move into the mansion. Many point out the obvious designs on the Autarch's inheritance and possible sinister intentions for taking advantage of the older woman, especially since no one but Shery knows what Mimir has actually advised the Autarch to do. However, Riel points out that there has been no traceable financial irregularities when it comes to Mimir; the Autarch doesn't seem to have paid her for her services, only providing Mimir with food and a roof over her head. The psychic speaks in extremely cryptic tones and lapses into trance-like states. Riel in particular scorns her for her supposedly psychic abilities, insisting that she is a fraud, until she comments on aspects of his past that no one could possibly know, shaking him. She is a prime suspect for the murder until it's discovered that Mimir insists on being locked into a windowless room, only being released by Shery in the morning, to protect herself from the ghosts that haunt the grounds...

[babbushka]

Change of Plan

Lawyer!Kylo x Reader

5k ; Mostly fluff. CW: Rivals/enemies, possessive behavior, name-calling (but in a playful way), NSFW (PIV, dirty talk, bathtub sex)

Available on AO3

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

Of all the days to cancel a date on, Valentine’s Day really had to be the worst.

Not that you had been dating that guy or anything – what did people consider dating these days anyway? – you’d only seen him a couple times. Work made things hard, made dating hard, and as much as you hated to admit it, part of you was really looking forward to spending the holiday with someone.

So when the text came through that he’s so sorry but something came up, any and all excitement you had had went straight down the toilet. 

Which is how you find yourself with your arms crossed over your chest, making your way down the sidewalk at three in the afternoon, doing some sort of walk of shame. Of course you were on the way to the meet-up spot when you got the text, wanting to be there early to compose yourself and get those butterflies in your stomach to calm the fuck down. If you didn’t care so much about punctuality, you might be in bed still right now, nursing your feelings with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

If you didn’t care so much, you might be in the safe warm comfort of your apartment, instead of being so exposed like this. The thought only becomes more prevalent in your mind when those butterflies turn to anchors in your stomach, your mood only sinking further, as a familiar black car pulls up to you. 

“Hey!” The window rolls down, and you hold your breath and will yourself not to look so obviously just-gotten-dumped-on-valentines-day-even-though-we-weren’t-even-dating.

“What the fuck do you want, Kylo?” You sigh, trying not to shiver. February in Manhattan wasn’t exceptionally freezing but you had definitely dressed for aesthetics over practicality – just another thing to make you feel like shit about it all.

Kylo, as ever, looks perfectly handsome. 

It’s infuriating.

“Get in the car.” He calls to you from the backseat, the driver going at a slow enough pace to match your speed.

You don’t stop walking, even though the offer is tempting. What was he even doing there in your part of town, didn’t he have the case to prepare for? Shaking your head, you wave him off.

“No, I – I want to walk.” You swallow around the sound of your voice breaking, hating the way your eyes are betraying you. Kylo hears it anyway, and you brace yourself for him to make fun of you for it, but the taunting teasing mocking jokes never come.

Instead, he rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, and says something to his driver because the car stops then, and Kylo opens the car door, standing outside it and gesturing for you to come in. You notice that he’s dressed exceptionally well; sporting one of his nicer suits, winter light from the sun reflecting off his shiny black Allen Edmonds.

“The forecast says rain, you’ll get soaked.” He argues, and you hate him, hate how he’s right.

Steeling yourself with a big deep breath – because you are not going to cry in front of Kylo fucking Ren – you make your way over to him, barely able to look him in the eye as you slide into the backseat of his car. Happily, Kylo sits himself nice and close to you, closes the door, and at once, the driver pulls back onto the main road, matching speed with the other vehicles.

Kylo opens his mouth, and you smack a hand over it before he can even take a breath in, leveling him with a dark glare and threatening, “Before you say anything, I want you to know that I cannot handle any criticism in this moment.”

“I wasn’t planning on criticizing you.” Kylo shakes his face a little to get your hand to fall off his mouth, and you aren’t so sure you believe him.

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m taking you out.”

Blinking, you stare at him. Was this some kind of joke? But the more you look at him, the more it makes sense. Belatedly, you realize he must have been on his way to your house, because he was driving the same direction you were walking. The nice suit, the shined shoes, the freshly done hair…hell he had even trimmed up his goatee.

“Excuse me?” Is all you can ask, wondering what this is, what kind of angle he’s coming at you with. Because with Kylo, there’s always an angle.

He shrugs, scratches at a spot underneath his chin and casts a glance down to his lap, and you for a moment think he might be…nervous. Well, sincerity certainly wasn’t the angle you had been expecting.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and people tend to go out to celebrate.” Kylo is distracting with the way he talks, hands gesturing all over, masking a flash of vulnerability in his tone with sarcasm as he continues, “And I figured if you’re the only woman in New York City who isn’t out celebrating, you’re going to be a real fuckin’ bitch on Monday when we go to trial, so, here I am.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terrible at being romantic?” You mutter, your heart pounding in your chest so loud that you’re sure he can hear it.

Cracking a wide grin, he taps the underside of your chin with his knuckles, before reaching forward to grab a big bouquet of red roses from the front passenger seat, careful not to disturb the petals as he pulls them over the center console and hands them to you.

“Look I even brought you flowers and everything – not to be romantic don’t go getting heads over heels or anything; some schmuck was giving them away for free down the road, I figured you’d like them better than them ending up in the garbage.” Kylo’s mouth runs faster than your mind can process it as you’re presented with the flowers, and if you hadn’t sworn to hate him for all eternity, you might have leaned in to kiss him right there.

“You figured right.” You smile, trying to remember when the last time anyone bought you flowers that wasn’t your secretary congratulating you on another case won, and fully accept the idea of a night out with Kylo by asking, “So, where are we going?”

With that go ahead, the driver speeds up a little more, makes a couple right turns. Kylo doesn’t tell you, just slings an arm around your shoulders and keeps his plan a secret. Those damned butterflies are back, and wouldn’t you know it they’re better than ever, and you can’t help but think that you’re lucky you were already dressed. It’s then that you evaluate what it is that you’re actually wearing.

On the date that never was, it was supposed to just be some wine tasting thing, so you had put on a beautiful dress that showed off all your favorite assets, as it were, and a pair of shoes that looked nice, but weren’t really meant for any sort of outdoor activity. Hoping beyond hope that Kylo wasn’t an outdoorsy sort of fella, you let yourself lean into him as the car zips through the Manhattan streets.

That hope slowly starts to die, once Central Park starts to come into view, and you realize that whatever he’s decided for his surprise is definitely not going to be conducive to these heels.

“Don’t worry, we’re not running or anything.” Kylo senses your mild stress, and with that, lies straight to you as the car slows down to a halt, and he grabs your hand and pulls you in a light jog into the park.

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

Central Park is, as it always tends to be, bustling with people. It’s not quite late enough in the day, or cold enough outside for it to be a more secluded spot – if anything in Manhattan ever is. You clutch the bouquet of roses to your chest, having forgotten to leave them in the car, as Kylo forgets to give you back your hand, the both of you chuckling and out of breath.

“Destination number one.” Kylo gestures grandly to a bench, when he stops jogging after a few minutes, once you’re deep inside Shakespeare Garden, making you give him a funny look.

“There’s more than one?” You ask, wondering just how involved this whole evening was going to be.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Kylo replies with a cheeky grin, before bringing you closer to the bench.

When he said this was the first destination, you had thought he was referring to the park, but as you come closer, you recognize this bench as the famed Whisper Bench, mostly because there’s a couple of people already trading secrets there. It’s made entirely out of concrete, twenty feet long and curled on each end.

Kylo waits politely until they leave, and then he’s leading you by the hand to one side of the bench, jogging over to the other end.

Like the people before you, you each bend over and cup your hands around your mouth.

“You want to go first?” You whisper, wondering if it’s really true, that your words will travel across the bench and reach him.

You don’t have to wonder though, not for very long anyway, because soon after his deep baritone is shooting across the bench, making your cheeks heat with something too close to affection for you to ignore it, especially when his big secret is, “You look very beautiful tonight.”

“You’re not half bad either.” You send back to him, making him grin with all of his crooked teeth.

There are people waiting for you to be finished, so Kylo comes back around the other side of the bench, and breaks out into a sprint the second he has a hold of your hand once more, making you yelp and laugh as he tugs you along to the next spot on his list.

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

From 79th street, he brings you to 64th, where you’re faced with the charming little Chess & Checkers House. It’s in the children’s district, but thankfully there aren’t too many children around. The octagonal building is surrounded by twenty-four permanent tables that have inlaid boards.

“Put the flowers there so no one takes the table.” Kylo instructs, and you do as he says, along for the ride.

“We’re playing chess?” Your eyes widen happily, and Kylo immediately recoils in a cartoonish way, shaking his head and making you sigh with exasperation.

“No fucking way, you’d kick my ass in a heartbeat.” He says, making those butterflies go crazy once again. Kylo walks up to the window of the little building, “We’re playing something I have a more even playing field on – one checkers set please.”

“Oh you’re so on.” You grin, taking him up on his challenge.

You set up the table, giving him black and keeping red for yourself. After three games, it becomes incredibly evident very early on, that Kylo has no idea how to play checkers. Taunting him the entire time – because really, who doesn’t know how to play checkers? – you collect your wins easily and smugly.

It felt good to win, that’s the whole reason you became a lawyer in the first place after all, but it felt especially good to win against your arch rival. The fourth game ends when you eventually take over the board, using a few strategic moves that have him completely pissed off.

“You can’t just do that!” He protests, the vein in his neck jumping out, as you jump over three of his pieces and turn your piece into a queen for the second time in a row.

“Of course I can! Don’t be such a sore loser.” You roll your eyes, but he’s not having it.

“You’re a fucking cheater I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea.” Kylo takes all the pieces off the board and shoves them into the small box that they came in, angrily muttering to himself, “Making up rules as you go along and all this bullshit.”

“I won fair and square and you know it. Consider it a prologue for our case on Monday.” You rest your chin in your hand, watching with satisfaction as he scoffs and grumbles all the way back to the small octagonal house to return the pieces with the shame of losing four games in a row.

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

Not far away at all down 65th street is the next stop on Kylo’s route, and you almost don’t believe that this is where he means to take you, when you stop your giggly jogging in front of the carousel. It’s getting pretty dark outside, between the rain forecast and the short winter days, which only lets the lights from inside the carousel shine brighter.

The golden inviting warmth of the lights blink and pulse along with music that plays, and standing there in line, with this big bouquet of roses, half of which have lost the majority of their petals just from all your running around, makes you feel like you’re in some kind of romcom.

Kylo lets you go in front of him, a hand on your waist as you take the big step up, immediately seeking out the perfect horse to claim as your own. You know that there’s two-seater options, but nothing beats the classic design of a galloping horse.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” You ask him once the carousel begins to spin, and he remains standing next to you, one hand on a golden pole to steady himself, the other resting gently on your thigh.

“And break one of these things? I don’t think so. The last thing I need is for the park to sue me.” He jokes, and you laugh at that, my my how would the tables have turned in that case.

“You made a good call, it’s chilly up here.” The movement of the carousel has the wind biting at your face, and at once your hands come across your chest to warm up the tops of your arms through your dress.

“I was wondering why the fuck you didn’t bring a coat.” Kylo immediately begins to fuss with you so you don’t go falling off the damn horse.

“I hadn’t planned on being outside today!” You defend yourself and your poor choice of attire as the carousel horse moves up and down, making it harder and harder for Kylo to get his hands on you, in turn making the two of you laugh.

“Yeah yeah, a likely story I’m sure – take my jacket.” He gives up trying to warm you up himself, and instead shucks off the thick wool jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.

It’s an intimate gesture, one that you’re not so sure how to take. You and Kylo hated one another, really loathed each other’s existence. Every day you thought about him and got a headache, and you knew he felt the same way. He had said as much, even. Kylo was a ruthless, terrible, awful, handsome, funny, charming…oh sonofabitch.

“But…then you’ll be cold.” You whisper, watching as the twinkling lights shine and shimmer in his big brown eyes, wondering when he got so close.

“So?” Kylo whispers back, holding a hand out for you to take when the carousel comes to a halt.

With his jacket around your shoulders, you don’t hesitate to take that hand, once again conveniently forgetting to let go of it even when both of your feet are firmly planted on the ground.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, once you’re both off the carousel and are walking a little less purposefully, just meandering down the park.

“I could go for some hot chocolate if there’s a place around.” You appreciate the question, finding that you don’t want the evening to end just yet. Not yet, not when you’re having so much fun.

Kylo must be thinking the very same, because his face lights up, and you can practically see the gears turning around and around in his head as he nods, “I know just the spot.”

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

People in the park were so smart, you decide as a vendor hands you one of those eco-friendly paper cups filled nearly to the brim with piping hot cocoa. Big marshmallows float gently and melt steadily as you take a loud sip and thank the man while Kylo pays. How the hell Kylo knew this guy would be here, you don’t know, but knowing Kylo, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had the guy’s number on speed dial or something.

It’s quiet, in this little spot of the park. As it gets darker and colder, more people start to head back to their own homes. You know too that realistically, you will have to go back to your apartment as well, so you take small, deliberate sips of your cocoa, hoping to draw out the time left.

Kylo is quiet, sipping on his cocoa too. You wonder if he’s thinking all the same things, if he’s dragging it out so that he doesn’t have to say goodbye yet either. You wonder where his driver is, what that poor sap is doing while you and Kylo dance around each other like this.

He keeps stealing glances at you, and you keep pretending to ignore them. Yes the sun has officially gone down beyond the skyline, and yes you’re probably colder than you should be comfortable with, even with his jacket around your arms, comically too large for you. Yes the flowers have all but wilted completely from the wind and the running, and yes your feet are killing you.

But you don’t want it to end, not yet.

Never in a million years did you think you’d have so much fun with Kylo of all people – never in a million years did you think you’d be so glad to have a date cancel on you. Who the hell needed a wine tasting anyway? You knew what wines you liked and didn’t like. Even though you were both well into adulthood, being with Kylo tonight made you feel like a kid again, in that sense that you hadn’t had this kind of fun in a long time.

It is at that moment, that the sky opens up completely, and rain begins to fall in freezing cold sheets, all at once. Shouting out of surprise, the two of you are shocked, and it’s all you can do to not drop the cocoa and somehow freeze and burn yourself simultaneously.

“Shit, let’s get out of here!” Kylo breaks the silence by saying, and you agree at once, the two of you running running running through the trail, looking for a place to take some shelter.

In the dark, it’s hard to find such a place, so Kylo cuts through a shortcut path that he knows, that has you popping out on the other side of the park, through a big gate and onto the street. No more than a few seconds go by, before his car pulls up, and Kylo practically yanks the door open, pushing you in quickly and climbing in behind you.

The two of you exchange glances, soaked to the bone, and burst out laughing, shivering and trying to warm your hands by the heater. The car seems too small then, seems like there’s no space for the both of you. You’re acutely aware of how his leg is pressing up against your own, how his bicep nudges yours, how his face is practically right up against yours, as you both turn towards one another to get near the heater.

“What did you have in mind now?” You whisper, and you’re not sure, but you think that you can see him swallow nervously.

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

When Kylo’s car pulls up outside the Baccarat, you really wish that the rain hadn’t ruined both of your outfits. No one seems to mind the two of you dripping on the floor of the lobby, as Kylo exudes all the confidence of New York City’s top prosecutor, but you certainly wish that you looked less like a drowned rat.

A key is slid across the counter, and into the elevators you and Kylo go, stealing little glances back and forth, looking away shyly when you’re caught. Eventually, the doors open again, and it’s a short walk to one of the most beautiful suites you’ve ever seen.

“You don’t get to say I’m not romantic ever again.” Kylo smirks, and you’d smack him for that if you weren’t still taking everything in.

Not only is the room beautiful just because it’s a luxury hotel, but Kylo must have gotten some sort of romance Valentine’s Day package, because the room is completely filled with tasteful and elegant décor.

On a silver bar cart that’s been wheeled into the sitting area of the room, there’s a bucket of champagne and crystal glasses. Gourmet chocolates in a satin box sit next to it, as does a small wrapped present that you’re dying to open at some point. Cashmere robes are laid out neatly on the massive bed, and large spherical rose bouquets are placed all over the surfaces, complete with rose petals leading to the bed from the room’s front door.

“Bubble bath?” Kylo offers, and you give him a knowing smile, grateful to both be warm, and to be naked with him.

His body never fails to make your eyes wander, you think. Between how hard he works and antagonizing you, you wonder when he ever has the time to work out, because surely he must work out. Kylo’s solid and strong in a way that makes you feel absolutely primal, and as he helps you step into the steaming water of the bathtub, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more safe.

“We have a five-course dinner coming.” Kylo murmurs softly as he settles in behind you, pulling your back to lean against his chest as he grazes his lips against your ear, “And breakfast in bed tomorrow, among other things.”  

“What would you have done if I had plans?” You ask as you chuckle and lean more fully against him, scooping up some of the thick frothy bubbles and blowing them into the air.

“I would have convinced you to ditch them.” Kylo says right away, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re so smug."

“I think I’ve earned it.”

You can’t argue with him on that, as much as you love arguing with him. Kylo kisses along your shoulder, up up up to the edge of your jaw, your cheek, making his way to your temple as your bodies soak in the hot water of the tub and you get the chance to simply relax and be together.

“You know, I almost had plans.” You bring up softly, the sting of rejection not hurting so badly anymore. In fact, you pretty much forgot about the date that never was, and you’re not so sure why you’re bringing it up now. Maybe because you can admit that this was a better Valentine’s Day than you could have ever hoped for.  

“I do know.” Kylo splashes his hand in the water for a little while, before dropping the unexpected admission of, “I asked him to cancel.”

Water sloshes over the side of the tub with the speed at which you turn to shoot your eyebrows up at him, mouth dropping open in surprise.

“What? Really? Why?” The demanding questions fall from your lips at once, the thoughts in your head coming to a screeching halt.

“I haven’t been planning this night for ages for some nobody in copyright law to come in and fuck it up.” Kylo has no hint of regret in his voice, and that catches you up. “Are you mad?”

Instead of answering him, you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing onto his. It’s possessive, to a degree that you should be mad about, but…but you’re just not. In fact, you feel the complete opposite of mad, you feel relieved. Kylo wasn’t just taking you out on some pity date, he wasn’t just trying to get you to not be such a bitch on Monday, no he had planned this out.

For weeks, possibly even a month, to get a reservation like this, Kylo had planned to surprise you. It was incredibly sweet, so as you kiss him hard and slip your tongue into his mouth, as his hands smooth around your back, cradle the base of your skull, hold you close, no – no you’re not mad.

Needing to be closer to him, you straddle his lap, as the kisses turn deeper, more passionate. Kylo’s hand tangles through your hair and crushes you to him, soft groans and grunts spilling out of his throat. Chest heaving as you gulp down breaths, you gasp as your nipples brush against his pecs, and stiffen at the contact. Kylo swallows down the sound, nips at your lips, gets them swollen and kiss-bitten.

“Fuck me?” You ask breathlessly, and Kylo grins with all those teeth of his again, and you let him manhandle your legs to better support yourself on either side of his thick waist.

“Sit on my cock baby, let me do the hard work.” He encourages, and you moan as you do just that.

The hot water helps relax you, but you’re not nearly stretched enough to take him in one fell swoop, so you let your head tip back, mouth open as you moan and slide down onto his cock inch by inch, hands bracing on his chest, letting gravity help.

“Goddamn you’re big, Kylo.” You moan, and he puffs up with pride in a way that you regret feeding his ego, but not really.

“You can take it, you’ve done it before pretty thing.” He’s focused, focused on making you feel good, and he’s good at it.

Kylo lets one of his hands slip down to rub at your clit just enough to get your thighs trembling, legs spreading to sink further down onto his cock, pulling out the sweetest whines and moans out of you. He sits up against the wall of the tub, one hand on your hip holding you steady as he rubs his fingers against you under the water, and that’s a good thing because when he does finally bottom out inside of you, you slip on the floor of the tub a little.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you, leaning forward to press kisses all across your breasts, smothering praise into your flesh, “Good girl, just relax for me.”

It’s hard to relax when he feels so fucking good, and you tell him as much, making him chuckle. But then he’s planting his feet and lifting his hips, fucking his cock up into you, and you can’t tell him much of anything at all.

“Oh fuck,” You sigh happily, eyes rolling back into your head as you ride him, “Yes – yesyesyes Kylo -- !”

“Did you – fuck keep squeezing my cock baby – did you really fucking think you’d have a good time with whatever his name is?” Kylo asks darkly, possessively, as he thrusts into you with a rhythm that has you gripping the side of the tub, body rocking back and forth, covered in bubbles that stick and pop all over you.

“No,” You whine, “But dammit you haven’t spoken to me since last – oh! Oh yes, yes please Kylo.”

He’s managed to find your gspot like this, and fucks up against it with each thrust of his cock, the head pressing and rubbing against it back and forth and back and forth, making your eyes roll back into your head, your toes curling under the water.

“Just because I didn’t tell you – this pussy is so tight holy shit -- I was taking you out doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning on it.” Kylo says, and you don’t even know what the fuck he’s talking about anymore, especially as he latches his mouth to your throat and sucks bruises and marks into your flesh.

“Well – Ah! – well next time warn a fucking woman, would you?” You swat at his arm, your thighs working to bounce on his cock, sweat and steam curling around you, making your bodies stick to one another as the both of your hands slip and slide all over, wanting to touch and pinch and grab.

His cock spears through you in the most delicious way, your cunt throbs and pulses around it, the moans and gasps and sighs and grunts of pleasure sing through your bodies. You and Kylo don’t have sex often – but every time it’s like this, every time it makes you wonder how you could do anything else in the world, other than get fucked by him.

“If I – fuck baby, fuckfuckfuck – if I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” He grunts, and that’s all the warning that you get before he’s coming.

You can feel the hot load of it spreading through your body, and you whine, desperate to come too, digging your nails into the muscle of his shoulder as he fucks you through his own orgasm. You’re so close, just on the precipice of bliss, just a little longer, a little more – and then he’s dropping a hand to your clit once again, and that’s enough to send you over the edge.

“You’re such an asshole.” Resting your head on his chest, you press a kiss to the sweaty line between his pecs, and melt against him as your orgasm ripples and shakes through you.

Kylo being the most insufferable man on the planet, only tucks some of your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His hands trace patterns against your back under the water, and there’s a distinctly teasing sort of softness in his words, the kind where you can practically hear the smug smile in his voice, as he wishes you a, “Happy valentine’s day sweetheart.”

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

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

Tagging some pals! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag  @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions  @direnightshade  @reyloaddict55  @thembohux  @kylorenswhxre  @sunflowersinthesnow  @babayagakeanu  @safarigirlsp  @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks  @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief  @materialisthicc  @drake-bells-waxed-penis @dutchiepie @slut-for-harri  @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa 

[rebelcourtesan]

Animation got Slammed at the Oscars

Other than Will Smith slapping Chris Rock, it seems that animation itself got insulted for being for kids only. Let me correct these celebrities on a few things about animation. Like comics, novels, live action television or film, it's a medium of story telling that isn't for children only!

Here's a few examples . . .

Part of Vivzipop's Hellaverse, a group of imps take on jobs from the damned of Hell to assassinate living humans in the Living World.

Why is this not for children? Well, firstly most of it takes place in Hell. Foul language, heavy sexual innuendos, not to mention blood and gore.

Also, it handles heavy adult topics such as relationships issues, loneliness, self-hate, suicide, nihilism, drug abuse, and infidelity.

The Princess of Hell opens a hotel to redeem damned sinners.

This long awaited series only has a pilot, a MV, and a couple of comics out. Set in the same universe (Hellaverse) as Helluva Boss.

Why isn't this for children? Foul language, heavy sexual innuendos, prostitution, sexual abuse, genocide, drug addiction, the stress of the porn industry, cannibalism, blood and gore. There are sure to be more added to this list when the series finally arrives.

Aging celebrity Bojack Horseman tries to reclaim his place in Hollywood and treads the footfalls of fame.

Where do I start? This series tackles some pretty heavy issues. Let's see . . .

Alcoholism, drug addiction, death, suicide, depression, narcissism, Hollywood politics, assaulting women, trauma, history of child abuse.

If the people bashing animation at the Oscars, I wonder if they would let their children watch Bojack Horseman? Hmm?

The son of a renown superhero finally grows into his powers and follows into his father's footsteps into becoming a hero.

Yep, this is about superheroes, but with a brutal twist as nothing is as it seems in this series.

Blood and gore abound, betrayal, abuse, and everything you wouldn't see in your typical superhero show for kids.

Wow, this must certainly be for children. A caveman and his pet dinosaur exploring the world together and going on adventures . . .if you ignore the rampant blood and gore . . .not to mention the leading character Spear witnesses his wife and children being devoured by dinosaurs, thus experiencing loss and grief.

Morty goes on interdimensional adventures with his grandfather Rick!

Do I even need to say anything? Here we go . . .abuse, nihilism, foul language, sexual content, depression, suicide.

Oh, and let's not forget when Morty was almost sexually assaulted by a jellybean in the men's restroom.

Frank tries to be the man of his dysfunctional family while trying to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.

This gem is chock full of foul language, family dysfunction, domestic abuse, unwanted pregnancy, bullying, sexual harassment, assault, blood and gore, racism, and sexism.

Kinda not for children.

Two sisters are separated by tragedy and come together from opposites sides of a conflict between two factions.

Let's see . . .war, trauma, mental health, betrayal, blood and violence, terrorism, political corruption, and death.

Retsuko works in an office and has hijinks with her co-workers and daily life.

While the art style is cutesy, there's a reason why this show is so relatable for working women. Sexism, work stress, relationship problems, marriage, PTSD, assault, harassment, stalking, and corruption.

There are scenes in the third season that would frighten small children as there is a violent scene where a stalker attempts to assault the leading character.

Princess Bean resists her arrange marriage and runs away with her friends, Elfo, a naïve elf, and Luci, a demon, to have adventures and hijinks.

While created by the same people who created the Simpsons, this is more 'adult' than the Simpsons. Alcoholism, grief, betrayal, blood and gore, evil and good.

Good grief, I could go on and on about the different animated shows meant for adults only. To say animation is for children only is not only ignorant, but downright insulting for Hollywood animators, studios, and independent animations studios.

[potteresque-ire]

Not sure if this has circulated before, but here’s a link to Henry Jenkin’s reactions to 227, largely as responses to an interview he did with Sanlian Lifeweek magazine (三聯生活周刊), a publication modelled after TIME magazine and published under China Press Publishing group (中國出版集團), the largest and state-owned publisher in China. The magazine asked for Jenkin’s opinions on the fandom-related aspects of 227 back in March, 2020. Henry Jenkins, as many may already know, is among the most renowned scholars of (Western) fan culture ... if not the most renowned.

Personally, I find this article to be quite limited in perspective, because 227 had a significant non-fandom-oriented, sociopolitical component ~ and hence its scope, its chaos, its damage. IMO, 227 stopped being a fan war, stopped being about solos, cpfs, and even Gg the moment AO3 was shut down ~ the powerful Chinese state had intervened, and the incident necessarily became a political incident. That One Fic on AO3, the conflict between solos and cpfs about whether and where That Fic should exist was at most a lighter left at the scene of what would become the blaze; it wasn’t even responsible for igniting the first fire. Most i-turtles (i-fruits?) are probably aware too at this point: if fan wars are sufficient to start 227, then there wouldn’t have been a 227 ~ because 227 would have been every date of the year.

Fan culture is fundamentally transgressive, and what that means can only be defined in the context of the subculture’s “mainstream” sociopolitical and cultural environment. I therefore find the article’s attempt to transplant Western fan culture’s observations / theories / analysis / conclusions to the incident without explicitly comparing, addressing in depth the differences of the pre- and post-transplant environment to be ... prone to rejections (as organs are after transplantations!)—exclusion from being useful or valid. And this article was very short on such comparisons or address. Jenkins being a fandom expert aside (and he was careful about not treading outside his area of expertise), early “antis” of 227 presented themselves as crusaders for the freedom of speech and, by late March when this article was published, the heated debates surrounding the incident on Chinese social media had already led to embarrassment for multiple powerful state publications. It was probably a wise choice to not make another dive into the political aspects of the incident.

Being a new(-ish) turtle who joined the fandom a full half-year after 227, I’ve been backtracking, trying to really understand the incident, which remains very much beyond comprehension in many aspects. The discussions I’ve dug up that have most fascinated me have been those in non-fandom spaces, by non-fandomers / politics enthusiasts who barely knew who Gg was, who didn’t know That One Fic involved more than one idol and had zero knowledge about solos vs cpfs. In these discussions, “antis” are not referred to as “antis” because while the action of the so-called “227 coalition” was to kill Gg’s career, that wasn’t considered its ultimate goal ~ its ultimate goal was to warn whoever tried to clamp down the freedom of expression that their opposition was strong enough, populous to fight back and take away whatever, whoever those who attempted the clamp-down care the most about. In this case, “Gg fans”—I put this in quotes because eventually, no one would know who would lurk behind those pro-Gg Weibo IDs (and the anti-Gg ones as well)—were the perceived enemies of creative freedom. Gg, assumed to be the one, the symbol of what “GG fans” cared about the most, naturally became the target of the coalition.

Gg wasn’t special in that sense ~ and that was perhaps, the saddest thing I found about this incident as a Gg fan (without quotation marks); Gg could be any idol who achieved top fame at the moment, who had enough fans to make the point known. The coalition was therefore not “anti-Gg” in its ideological sense. It was anti the fan circle culture that had cemented Gg’s popularity, that had already been known to deal extremely poorly with dissent—complaints had been abound that c-ent was no longer fun for bystanders because the latter could issue no critique, not even doubt, about an idol without the fear of being reported, torn down by fans. The coalition eventually grew to include anti the many happenings, the many censorships and imprisonments in the past few years that had silenced the creative crowd in China, happenings people dared not speak about beyond a loud grumbling ...

The coalition tried to take down Gg, because they couldn’t take down the force that had shut down AO3, that was truly responsible for the silencing. They played the Hunger Games in the Weibo arena instead of challenging Who The Real Enemy Was, because some might not have given much thought about  The Enemy; some might have thought the Enemy too invincible to be worth the effort; some might have got too carried away by their blood thirst, the cruel schadenfreude of shredding a beautiful, successful young man into pieces, and forgot why they were there in the first place ... 

And that was only the political side of 227. 227 was also widely suspected to have a commercial component, which added another layer to the symbolism behind Gg the Idol ~ pretty much as soon as 227 happened, netizens investigated, tried to uncover the chain of capital behind Gg. With the scent of money was the memory of filth associated with it, in a country not exactly  unknown for its corrupt business practices. Much like in The Book of Exodus in the Bible, the Idol is believed to be forged with gold; it is ungodly, tainted. Whether Gg the Person was identical to Gg the Idol, Gg the Symbol mattered to few. That Gg *was* a person seemed lost to many ... 

I’ll have to dive into the non-fandom aspects of 227 with more rigour. As much as I'd love to leave 227 behind, every time I see Gg, I see its legacy on his face, in his smile, and perhaps, I’m not the only one ~ ADLAD cast him as Patient #5 because of 227′s effect on him. Put it another way, 227 is already modifying, writing Gg’s career trajectory ~ a trajectory that is undoubtedly under scrutiny by many who wish to duplicate his success but circumvent his pain. And every time I see a young idol—Gg, Dd, and anyone else—I wonder if the hurt of 227 can happen to them (again) because the crux of the incident has never been resolved; the oppression and silencing have remained strong as ever. 

Anyway (sorry for the rant) ... what I found noteworthy about this article was the quotes the magazine highlighted in its published form (in Chinese), which weren’t highlighted by Jenkins on his own website. They reflected what the magazine would like to be the take-home messages of the interview. I’ve listed them below; all of which had Jenkins as the speaker:

[Pie Note: About Real Person Fiction (RPF) in Western fandoms]

“American fans often do have some shared norms about what is and is not appropriate to write, mostly having to do with protecting the privacy of other people in the star’s life. Writing about the star is seen as fair game; writing about their family members is not.”

---

[Pie Note: About GG being “cast” as a transgender woman in The One Fic that started the incident; gender in fandom]

“We write fan fiction as a form of speculation and exploration. For some people, it may be one of the few spaces in the culture where they can express who they are, what they are feeling, what they are desiring. And for others, it is a place of “what if” where they explore in fantasy things they would not necessarily desire in reality.” 

---

[Pie Note: Whether GG should be held responsible for his fans’ behaviour]

“Under these circumstances, I would not hold a performer responsible for his fans’ behaviors but the performer is responsible for their own behavior and fans may respond negatively to performers who over-react to the existence of alternative fantasies and insult or hector their audiences.”    

---

[Pie Note: About AO3 and why fans were so upset about its closure] “Keep in mind that AO3 is a particular kind of platform. Alongside Wikipedia, AO3 is one of the greatest accomplishments of participatory culture in the digital era.”

---

[Pie Note: About the “problematic” content on AO3]

“Among my findings were that fan fiction sites can be a valuable space for young people to acquire skills (and receive feedback) on their writing from more experienced writers who share these same passions ... That said, while teens have participated in fandom, a large part of those on AO3 are adults, engaging in adult conversations on adult topics.”

---

[Pie Note: About media text in the new media era]

“First, I would stress the proliferation of media texts at the current moment ... We have access to a much broader range of media content than ever before and in this context, fans play a constructive role in curating that content, helping some shows get greater visibility ...  Second, these texts have become more malleable”

---

[Pie Note: About idols not producing “good” media texts]

“Rather, the question should be what are fans finding meaningful about these performers and the texts they generate. I start from the premise that human beings do not engage in meaningless activities. I may not immediately recognize why something is meaningful but my job as a scholar is to understand why cultural materials are meaningful to the people who cherish them.”

---

My understanding of this selection of quotes is this: this state publication (as others) was quite ready to forgive Gg, to put this incident behind. It could choose to not publish this interview; it could choose to leave out certain quotes, or not do the highlighting that cast both AO3 and Gg in a positive / innocent light. But it did all these things. This article furthers my impression that the state never intended 227 to blow up the way it did, and that it did—enough for stories about it to be found in non-China websites, and in English—was what I’m still trying to comprehend. 227 was, admittedly, how I was first introduced to Gg beyond Wei Wuxian. And as I got to know Gg, like Gg, my want to understand 227 only becomes stronger, perhaps because only through comprehension I feel I can find peace for the GG fan (again, without quotation marks) in me.

Maybe I should email Dr Jenkins and ask if he’s looking for a PhD candidate. 5 years of research and thinking ... maybe that’s what it’ll take. 

I feel I’ve already started anyway.