#and i do think characters should be in service of the plot

[shackleton2]

it's true and I say this as an avid binge-watcher who in the stone age had to look up transcripts of episodes because I couldn't wait THREE ENTIRE DAYS OF MY LIFE FOR NETFLIX TO MAIL ME THE NEXT DVD

Seasons of TV released as one fat drop of 8-12 1-1.5hr episodes, literally being told THIS IS FOR YOU TO BINGE IN ONE INSANE SITTING is the exact definition of my dreams and desires.

......why are they no good??

I can definitely think of exceptions, but "both of them have too much time and not enough time for the characters to struggle and grow and change," as it's well-put above, does seem to be the rule more and more. But what does that phrase really mean??

I saw something recently weighing in on this and saying series in particular seem to think every single thing depicted on screen has to move the story forward, possibly because everything is angled to encourage "binging". It's funny because that sounds like it should do the opposite of making the story feel ponderous and pointless!! So what's going on?

Maybe it's because Real Life™ isn't constantly moving towards one plot resolution, so the more you write a story where that's true, the more impossible true immersion for the viewer becomes?

But also I think actively designing a series to be compulsively watched in one or two massive sittings is hurting them as stories. Maybe it's because bingeing, especially as it's understood in other contexts, is not about enjoying something massively good, at least not after the initial part.

We all know this, right? You don't binge on something because it's just sooooo good. Are there people out there who have never done any kind of binge? Maybe so, so I'll tell you because I surely have: it's inertia. A really scary kind, to be honest, that feels, after a while of getting acclimated to nonstop-consuming the thing, like an absolute involuntary need. Because the second I stop eating the family sized bag of chips, stop taking another drink, stop lighting another smoke, reality will come rushing back in place of the comfort-stimulus. And in reality I am not experiencing joy or even pleasure, I am experiencing the kind of existential horror you get when you try to convince yourself you don't actually have to deal with your own mind. This 100% applies to letting the next episode autoplay after 5 hours of watching one story unfold.

Sorry I got kinda dark there, but the point I'm trying to illustrate is that I don't think you NEED a GOOD PRODUCT in order to get people to binge. And, well, that shows more and more with this "content" streaming services are releasing.

True Blood was a hot mess in so many ways and my mental health sure as shit was too but holy shit watching that obsessively years back was so FUN. That show and other story-loves of mine feel different from stuff getting released in full-season streaming dumps right now, and I don't think it's quality of writing or acting or effects or anything else making the difference as much as whether a show seems to genuinely LIKE itself, or whether it's counting on you finding it preferable enough to reality to let the next episode play and thus get good stats.

we need 15-20 episode seasons again these limited series have the worst pacing in the world and none of the character decisions hold any weight

[utilitycaster]

thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

[thestrangerthingsgirl]

okay look, at this point, i do not care about what you guys ship, I do not care if you ship mileven or if you ship byler, ya'll need to be patient and relax, don't go hating on others just because you don't like the same ship as each other, iti's always "byler this mileven that" and like calling the ship names different names just to make the ship look bad, it's 2025, ya'll are still fighting over ships and the show is ending any moment of this year, do you guys really want to just keep on fighting even AFTER the show ends? the show will end with the ship that will end up endgame after a while and we'll have to deal with the consequences with what ship ends up endgame, if i'm being honest, I like the show, I love it obviously but not just for the ships and the love, but just mainly for the plot, for it's story, i'm sorry if your tired of me bickering about the hatred that goes around with the stranger things fandom in here (obviously other sites like instagram, tiktok, x etc has different opinions on ships i just feel like tumblr is mainly more about the hatred around the ships) but i'm just going to be completely honest, I don't think we should worry too much about whatever ship happens, we should just worry about what characters the duffers are deciding to kill off in the end, like there's a lot to worry more about what ship will end up endgame, I know there's a lot of proof on both sides but it's not like the duffers want to use fan service for the last season.

and if you are wondering what side i am on, i'm on neither, I like both ships but I don't hardcore ship mileven or hardcore ship byler, I find them both nice ships but I don't go hating on others for liking mileven or liking byler, I just feel like we all need to relax and be patient instead of just assuming that all mileven or byler fans are mean and cruel, like of course not all of you guys are cruel and I see you, I see you looking at my posts and I understand that you aren't here for the drama and the hatred, and I want to see more of that, I would like to see more honest respect about opinions, I don't want to see anyone hating on each other just because they have a different preference or a different opinion, it's not the end of the world if you ship doesn't end up endgame and you are not delusional for enjoying mileven or byler.

I don't want to say anything about my opinion on the ships, I obviously don't care what happens other than the characters happiness, like I would rather see them happy with each other than one of the characters being disgusted or angry about them liking the other character (for example: el upset about will falling in love with mike because that's her bf or something) i obviously think that el wouldn't really care much or understand, just being honest but after the whole massacre she really did lose her memory so she basically has to understand everything that she learns about like learning about sexuality. I mean I don't really understand why people would think that El would hate Will for liking Mike? like it's valid that he likes mike and El likes Mike too but it shouldn't be something to like reconsider, let's just trust the duffers, like we're not the writers of the story, and the actors don't write the script they act out the script but other than that, I think we all need to relax which I know that doesn't help to say so but I feel like people just need to stop attacking each other for people's opinions, even the actors had said stuff about their opinions on the ships whether or not they want to talk about it especially since they don't want to deal with getting in trouble for spoiling something, like yes i have heard about noah saying that will has a crush on mike, like that's obviously something we know about, and millie, she doesn't need to talk about mileven if she wants to avoid questions about that, or finn also, like i feel like when it comes to the actors, whenever they do panels and such in cons I feel like the most majority of questions that people ask is about the ships and what their opinions are on it but maybe we should ask them about what they think themselves about the ship war or maybe ask about their character arcs and such, and there's also the fact that sometimes maybe the ships won't exactly end up what we want as sometimes the actors will say "don't be upset if byler doesn't happen" as that's something noah has said in a live stream before but he could be wrong he could be right but he can't get im trouble for spoiling especially since NDAs are very strict.

Okay i see that the name is something so it doesn't show up on the tags of the opposite ship, I don't be calling byler something else that seems rude okay, I'm putting this into the tag of both ships for a understandment of both ships, obviously this post isn't here to hate on each others ships or anything, I'm not here to hate on y'all for liking mileven or byler don't get me wrong but don't go saying assumptions that I'm hating on one of the ships when I'm not hating on any ships whatsoever, i'm just talking about how ship wars are stupid and unnecessarily.

If you don't agree with me on this that's okay, just scroll ahead, I just don't want to cause any trouble but I wanted to say like my opinion around the ship war.

Another note, don't go assuming that i hate a specific character, I do not hate el, will or mike, i just hate the ship wars involving the 3 of them. I do not technically have any predictions about the 3 of the characters but i do hope they are all happy with whatever decision they are in.

One last thing, I do not hate mileven nor byler, I just hate the ongoing fight about whatever ship should end up endgame, You are entitled to what you ship and I respect that, I am just here to state how I do not enjoy the ship war that always tends to be a problem in the fandom.

[yellowocaballero]

Talk Shop Tuesday: what’s the most important thing to you when it comes to characterization?

[Sorry I am so behind on these I have been so fucking busy] CHARACTERIZATION I LOVE YOU SO. What a good question!!!!! I get compliments on my characterization a lot so I should probably think about this. Also @lazuliquetzal chime in if you want because you're just as good at this.

There's a lot of important things. The most important, I think, is that the character has consistent internal logic. It's like worldbuilding or magic. Their actions don't have to be objectively logical, but they do have to be consistent. The character has a framework for understanding the world, a way of perceiving the world and how it works, and an idea of how they think other people work. Everything that happens in their lives is filtered through that. They have to feel like a real person making real decisions, not an instrument of the plot.

Something I like to do is to make their greatest strength their greatest flaw. I think in writing there's no 'good' or 'bad' character traits - no virtues or sins. I think character traits are neutral, and that they can be used to good or bad effect. I think we do things because of other things that have happened to us, and that these things have positive and negative consequences.

Obviously a character has to have consistent motivations and to change over time. A character shouldn't end the story in the same place where they started. Character focused stories ought to have your characters change throughout the story - Sherlock Holmes doesn't have to have moments of character growth but your slice of life character definitely should. I think the setting around them really helps - giving them foils really helps develop and flesh out both characters.

I feel like that's all pretty basic notes though. For me and characters, there's way more to it than that. It's hard to explain. I think I can only ask that you make the plot and tropes fit the characters, not the characters fit the plot and tropes. Fanfic has a horrible habit of making characters one dimensional and stripping away a lot of nuance to fit in with different slots in relationship dynamic, roles in a team dynamic, or niches in an AU. The character should come first. And love of god if you make their personality seme or uke I will come find you with my yaoi baseball bat.

Oh and the best character-building exercise is to figure out if the character would ever be a cannibal or not and I am barely joking.

[fulcrums501st]

I still think s1 handled the socio-political themes rlly well-roundedly cuz it was very grounded and character driven. I always understood 100% why characters did what they did and how their class background and general background affected that. It felt very realistic cuz no one was 100% evil/good on either side and we see the complex flaws both individuals and the system have.

This is why I actually rlly like Marcus and think he’s a great side character. I never thought he was supposed to make me feel sympathy for all enforcers and the system, he was just a very realistic example of a guy in the situation he was in. He’s a coward, he wants to do the right thing, he’s matured since his youth but is still classist, his family is being threatened, he has all these flaws but is trying, just like everybody else. He’s not fully at fault for everything but he also isn’t absolved of blame for the situation he has found himself in, and for all the rescissions he makes.

The issue with s2 is that it simply brushed aside season 1’s previous lens of systemic inequality and does everything to avoid the conflict by jumping to other plots. Even events/plot points that SHOULD have massive fallout through this lens are either never shown on screen, montage Dover, or simply don’t exist (VI’s zaunite background cough cough). The creators of s2 seemed to have consciously ignored this theme and lens from in s1 and they just pretend it isn’t there, thus wasting the thematic potential of s2. Season 2 is also on a character level is not as character driven as season one partly cuz it is so rushed but also cuz of all the bs plot stuff the writers need to happen, so character exploration and development (especially that that continues s1) is sacrificed to service the plot. And the class disparity between characters (Vi and Caitlyn, Jinx’s apathy for violence especially toward Piltover, etc) is largely ignored when in reality it should be a pressing matter that is addressed and explored, thus doing a disservice to EVERY character this season. Cuz if that was acknowledged then team up final fight sequence would be even more obviously a silly cop-out than it already is.

Even if Marcus having a daughter did turn out to be the red flag in season 1 that showed where season 2 was headed socially and politically, that plot point didn't need to be mutually exclusive with a season 2 plot that was nuanced and interesting re: Piltover vs. Zaun.

Marcus had multiple opportunities in season 1 to stop what he was doing with Silco and actually prioritize his daughter (and his life with her) - or just stop Silco himself, if Marcus had been willing to die or go to prison - but his personal biases and the opportunity for personal gain kept winning out over and over, leading to his death. Which was tragic - even if many of us didn't feel that bad for him - yet inevitable. I never got the sense that Marcus in season 1 was indicating a "both sides are the same" or "we should all just work together" type of plot, but rather, "Here is what the privileged are willing to do - and not do - to maintain the status quo."

In watching season 1, between Marcus having a daughter, Jayce being easily led and reaching too far with his power, and Caitlyn's naivete, I thought that the Piltover plot was taking us to a place where these more privileged characters see opportunities to do better wrt the undercity, but because of ignorance, personal gain, personal biases, or personal injury and trauma, they actively choose to perpetuate the sociopolitical divide and find ways to justify these choices for themselves, regardless of any opportunities they may have to learn, grow, and do better specifically with regards to the undercity. Which helps shed light on why irl power structures seem so rigid and unchanging despite everything. This doesn't mean that the Piltover characters needed to die or anything, but I do think it would've been more interesting if the tragedy element was kept ("fate worse than death" types of tragic endings are more interesting anyway imo), the Piltover/Zaun conflict wasn't "solved" in the end, and the impact of Piltover's apathy and violence wasn't brushed aside. Particularly if there had been a real undercity uprising plotline.

[cluescorner]

Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".

*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.

*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-

Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-

Arlecchino: Ok.

Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?

Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.

*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*

Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????

Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for a long time. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond what you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your fingers over the delicate skin between your wrist and up toward the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your other wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And�� I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, and I've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

read the next part: TAKING YOU HOME

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[baronessvonglitter]

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[unboundprompts]

Can you give tips for slow burn/developing romance? I’m good at writing couples once they’re already in love, but when they have a crush on each other or them slowly developing feelings I don’t really know how to do

How to Write a Slow Burn Romance

-> writersdigest.com

-> reddit.com

The Growing Relationship

Make sure the reasons your characters don't get together right away makes sense. It doesn't need to be realistic, but it needs to be believable.

Focus on how their relationship grows. Spend time on the meeting, the getting to know each other, the subtle moments and big moments that draw them to each other. There will be obstacles, arguments, and conflicts to solve.

Make the development of the relationship natural for the characters.

Start as far back in their relationship as you can. This will allow the longest amount of time for their relationship to be exploired in the story. If it fits, you can start when they first meet. Of course, if it doesn't fit your story, you can start later in their relationship.

Build the Tension

You want your readers to be on the edge of their seats when it comes to your character's relationship. They should be screaming "just kiss already!"

Add near-miss moments. An almost kiss interrupted by a phone call. A hug that lasts just a moment too long.

Add little indications of feelings. Soft Smiles. Winking. The brush of a finger. Lingering glances.

Pining. Give insights into your character's thoughts. Constant thoughts about the other person. Butterflies when they think about them. The anticipation.

Slow Burn, Not Slow Pace

There needs to be other plot points happening while the romantic tension is building. Your characters should be dealing with other situations while they are also pining after each other.

Outside Forces

Slowburns are not always endless pining and dancing around one another. Sometimes, there are outside forces that are keeping characters apart when they already realize that the feelings are mutual.

Examples: Distance between the characters, health/mental health reasons, job/work complications, family dynamics, character goals, characters are on two different sides of a conflict, etc.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

big big marvey fic rec list

marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!

fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you

MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES

A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)

“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.

"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."

i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)

of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)

Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.

"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."

this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE

5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…

i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)

fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)

needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)

When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.

this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS

Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)

After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.

BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)

The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)

Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.

"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."

I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul

Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)

"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."

reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me

Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)

In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...

i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh

Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)

Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.

this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)

afternoon reads (10k+)

Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)

Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.

“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.

cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh

Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)

When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]

I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!

quick reads (1k+)

This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)

She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.

RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much

an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)

Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”

this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)

Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)

Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.

"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.

IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh

Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)

When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.

BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)

Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)

Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.

this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1

One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)

Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.

HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!

also pspspsps

golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)

Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.

yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth

there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3

^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3

[nicksolemnlyswears]

SWEET TREAT

TWO IS COMPANY, THREE IS A CROWD

pairing: opla!sanji x reader, opla!zoro x reader

word count: 2.8k

warning: 18+, smut, swearing, penetration (p in v), oral (m receiving), food play, slight vouyerism

a/n: i didn't think 'TWO IS COMPANY, THREE IS A CROWD' would receive so much love. it's been overwhelming (in a good way) how well it's been doing. thank you to everyone who liked it and reblogged it!

as a thank you here is part 2 because if zoro had his moment so should sanji. (isn't that gif of him precious?) honestly you don't need to read part 1 to understand this. it's basically porn without plot (although it does have more plot than the first part lol)

i'd like to repeat i've only ever watched netflix's one piece so don't come for me if they are out of character.

i might just write a buggy oneshot next...that clown is coming for me.

Sanji outdid himself once more with dinner. No one in the crew can deny that recruiting Sanji onto the Straw Hat Crew was a great idea. Not even Zoro, who downplays his gratefulness with jabs towards the ‘waiter.’

With a full stomach and the rocking of the Going Merry the crew shuffles to their respective shared rooms to get some rest. Except for you.

You stay behind, gathering the empty plates and returning them to the sink. Sanji shoots you a thankful smile and pecks your lips gingerly as he turns to clean up the mess he made on the kitchen counter.

It’s peaceful as you scrub the dishes and Sanji returns everything to its respective spot. Each time he walks past you his palms find your hips, squeezing your body and rubbing up against you unnecessarily. Sanji just likes feeling your presence. Physical touch and acts of service is how he shows his love.

You don’t mind his touch, you revel on it actually. There’s something about big strong hands on your hips that makes you feel safe and fills your mind with impure thoughts.

You and Sanji talk in soft voices to maintain the unusual peacefulness of the ship. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as he helps you dry the clean dishes, his breath tickling you and making you giggle.

“Saved space for dessert?” Sanji whispers, his eyes on the hallway leading to Luffy’s bedroom, afraid the boy will barge through the door.

“You’re telling me I have the pleasure of getting dessert?” You quip with a grin while looking up at him.

Sanji softly laughs, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. Your arms instinctually go around his neck. “You were the only one who helped me clean.”

“I just like spending time with you,” you whisper getting on your tippy toes to brush your lips against his.

“Even more reason to treat you with something sweet,” he responds, fully capturing your lips in a kiss.

With only the two of you around he takes his time to sink into the kiss. Tilting his head to deepen it and brushing his tongue against your lips. One hand grabs your hip while the other tangles in your hair, pulling you closer.

“I thought you were making me dessert not that I was dessert…although that can be arranged,” you tease him, dropping down back on your feet, leaving one last kiss on his jaw.

Sanji chuckles and shakes his head at your words, “You’re sweet enough to be dessert, but you’re right I did promise you a treat."

Kissing your forehead, Sanji opens up the pantry to get the necessary ingredients. You lean against the counter besides him as he fixes his sleeves up and starts whisking ingredients together. All of his movements are precise and confident.

Your eyes zone in on his strong forearms. The veins and tendons tensing as he whisks away. You can't help but remember all the times he's held you in his arms, his strong grip and the pleasure he gives.

You move to stand behind him as he finishes up, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. You leave kisses along his spine, resting your head there for a moment. Neither have to speak to appreciate each others presence and the calm environment.

“All done, darling,” Sanji announces. He places his arms over yours to intertwine your fingers and give the palm of your hand a kiss.

You peep from behind him seeing a dish with chocolate mousse and whipped cream. It's your favorite dessert, the same one he recommended back when you first met at Baratie.

As you reach for the dish Sanji grabs you and lifts you to sit on the kitchen counter. You laugh as he stands between your open legs, bringing the dessert up between the two of you.

You part your lips as he raises the spoon up to your lips. Sanji watches you expectantly and a sense of satisfaction fills him as you close your eyes in pleasure.

The mixture of flavors invade your senses causing a moan rises from your throat. Sanji's proud smile falters as your tongue swipes your bottom lip to clean off a bit of chocolatey residue. A wave of lust crashes against him and settles deep inside of him.

“Best one yet, Chef Sanji,” you say none the wiser to the thoughts of the blonde chef.

“Yeah?” He says huskily, “Let me try, darling.”

The taste of the chocolate is alive in your mouth as Sanji presses his lips against yours and sneaks his tongue inside your mouth. There's no better place to taste his creation than from you. You squeal in surprise but lean into the kiss, grinning at his playfulness.

“I have to agree with you,” Sanji responds breathlessly, tucking a stand of your hair behind your ear.

“Smooth,” you giggle, taking the dish and spoon from his hands.

You and Sanji share the tasty dessert. You take charge of the spoon, feeding it to him in intervals. When it's nearly done you take a bit of left over whip cream and spread it on his nose.

Sanji stares at you open mouthed, he wasn't expecting that from you. "You're disrespecting the chef, love," he says moodily, wiping the nose with his finger and looking around for a rag.

"Am I?" You question, grabbing his hand. He looks at you questioningly as you lift it up to your lips to suck the finger covered in whipped cream.

The same sensation from earlier fills him once more as your lips wrap around his finger. You lock your eyes with his as your tongue swirls around it, just like it would if it was his cock. You release it from your mouth with a ‘pop’ with Sanji staring at you lustful eyes. His cock stirs in his trousers, feeling confined all of the sudden.

“You're being a little brat after I've treated you so well, darling?” Sanji breathes out, grabbing your thighs and sliding you to the edge of the counter. Now pressed against him you feel the bulge you've caused.

"I'm sorry?" You 'apologize' with a mischievous grin and a shrug.

"Sure you are," Sanji grumbles, stealing a kiss from you. He doesn't kiss you long as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck, the smell of your perfume still present on your skin. His hands sneak under your shirt, touching your warm skin and making you shiver.

You cross your ankles behind him, keeping him close to you as your head dips back. You feel his tongue on your collarbones, sucking a bruise on them.

As best you can you blindly unbutton his shirt, allowing your nails to rake down his chest and stomach. Sanji's abdomen tenses at your touch, which doesn't go unnoticed by you.

Sanji's lips soon return to yours, slipping his tongue past them to play with your tongue. Teasingly you slip a finger in the waistband of his trousers, pulling on it playfully.

"Let me make it up to you," you pant, referring to him calling you a brat. Undoing the belt and popping open his trousers you slip your hand under his underwear.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," Sanji groans when you take hold of his cock and pull it out of its confines. You smile widely at him as you begin stroking his length.

Sanji's attention is redirected to your chest as he brushes off the straps of your top down your shoulders and pulls it down, exposing your chest to him. He feels you shudder when the cold sea air hits your skin.

An idea forms in his head when he notices the left over whipped cream. Reaching out to it he grabs a dollop of it and spreads it over your hard nipples. He's combining two things he adores, you and food.

"Sanji, what?" You gasp, looking down at the mess he created.

"You said you could be dessert," he reminds you, briefly kissing you.

His mouth encases one of your nipples to clean you off the sweet cream. Sanji's tongue swirls and flicks against it, making your back arch in pleasure.

You momentarily stop pumping his cock in your hand, getting lost in his touch but Sanji reminds you as he thrusts into your palm. You continue to rub him up and down, tracing your thumb over his sensitive head to spread the bead that has formed there.

Meanwhile, Sanji switches to your other nipple, licking and sucking it. He needs to give props to himself as the whipped cream is delicious, especially topping your skin.

Sanji pays equal attention to each one of your breasts as he pinches and pulls on the one not in his mouth. Above him he hears your dulcet voice calling his name. Your touch is addicting as he sporadically jerks his hips to meet your pace.

Your chest and neck continue to be covered in whipped cream and yet you don't feel the stickiness as Sanji indulges on the sweet treat. Even as he comes back up to kiss your pouty lips you taste the sugar on them, leading you to crave some yourself.

"I want some whipped cream too, you know," you tell him with a pout.

"There's some left over," Sanji answers you albeit a bit confused. Seems like he forgets he's not the only one that can play around with food.

You gently push him back and drop down from the counter. Grabbing the small bowl with the left over whipped cream you kneel on the floor. Sanji is taken aback but nontheless lets you guide him to stand right in front of you.

His cock bounces as he settles in front of you. You grab it and give the tip a little kiss. Sanji grabs the counter behind him to brace himself. Dipping your finger into the bowl you spread the whipped cream along his length, letting some accumulate on his head.

Sticking out your tongue you lick Sanji from base to tip, gathering the sugary substance. You lick and lick until there is none left. Sanji watches you like a hawk, knuckles white from how hard he's grabbing the edge of the countertop. A grunt or two leave his lips, urging you on.

Sanji hisses your name when you push yourself to take his whole length in your mouth. You look up at him, cheeks hollowed and wide eyes, feigning innocence. "You saucy minx," he chides you.

Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail Sanji takes charge of your pace and the depth you take him. You hold onto his muscular thighs, letting him do as he pleases. Your tongue does wonders as it swirls around his cockhead with each opportunity that presents itself.

The combination of your warm mouth and the visual of you half dressed and flushed takes him to the precipice but before he's able to climax he forces you off his cock. He's not about to cum without having your walls wrapped around him. Helping you up he brushes your watery eyes with his thumbs and kisses your wet red lips that match your nose.

Positioning you to face away from him, he leans you over the counter. You glance behind you as feel him pressing up against you. Sanji pulls down your shorts and panties, ignoring the wet patch on them. His fingers dipping between your legs confirms what he already knows. You've been anticipating his touch ever since you decided to stay behind to help him clean up.

"Would you look at that?" Sanji smirks, spreading his fingers to watch your slick webbing between them.

"Sanji, please. I need you," you whimper, wiggling your hips.

"Now you decide to be polite, darling?" Sanji asks, swiping his cock against your drippy slit. It catches against your entrance, teasing you.

"Mhm, please," you shakily beg.

"Remember to be quiet or else the others will come wandering around," Sanji warns you, slowly pushing into you.

You bite your lips to keep quiet as it slips in smoothly. You swear you can feel the long vein that trails down his cock and the curve of it that hits you just right.

You hold onto the wooden counter for dear life as Sanji begins thrusting into you. One hand grips your hip, pulling you back towards him and the other runs down your back, occasionally spanking your ass to get a rise out of you.

"Such a good girl," he groans. At his words your pussy clamps around him, seems like you have a praise kink. "You like when I call you that, huh?" Sanji asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Yes, Sanji" you moan out, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your boyfriend.

Sanji straightens back up and continues to thrust into you. Steady and deep. He focuses on the mess between your legs as a white ring forms at his base whenever he pushes back into you.

Shamelessly he grabs your ass, spreading it to see how your pussy chokes him out and how your walls drag each time he pulls out.

The height difference between the two of you is inconvenient. You're on your tippy toes as he grabs your hips to pull you impossibly closer.

You and Sanji are lost in the moment, concentrating on each other. So much so neither notices how Zoro walks into the kitchen. Quiet as a mouse, he walks around the counter until he's across from you.

You're a sight for sore eyes as your tits bounce with each of Sanjis strong thrusts. He'd come for an after dinner snack before heading to bed. He figured you'd be here with the waiter since he wasn't back in their shared cabin.

Sanji doesn't say anything, more than used to Zoro's presence by now. Zoro grabs the bowl of left over mousse and dips a finger in to taste it, liking it he grabs a spoon and leans back to watch.

"Is the waiter making you feel good?" He asks as he takes a spoonful of dessert. Sanji almost growls at the name but the feel of you choking his cock quiets him down.

You gasp at the sound of his voice. You had your eyes closed and as you open them you see Zoro, staring intently at you. You nod before speaking, "Fucking me nice and deep."

"You've gotten better at keeping quiet, baby," Zoro praises you, leaving the now empty bowl behind. He leans over the counter on his elbows, he's eye to eye with you now. "If I didn't know any better, I would have no idea of what's going on here."

"You really think now's a good time to have a conversation, mate?" Sanji glares at him. Zoro's presence causes him to snap his hips harder against yours. Your body jostles harder against the counter.

"Why not? Her mouth is free," Zoro shrugs, returning his gaze to his pretty girlfriend who is trying her hardest to keep quiet with the change of pace. "But I can leave if that's what you want."

"No!" You exclaim, extending your hand out to him to take. Zoro smirks at the blonde, grabbing your hand and cleaning the bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

"Whatever," Sanji mutters under his breath.

Your quietness doesn't last seeing as soon as Sanji touches your clit you yelp and tighten your hold on Zoro's hand.

"There she is," Zoro smirks at the noise you make. The harder Sanji thrusts and the more he touches your clit the louder your noises get.

"Sanji. Zoro." You whine, scrunching your eyes closed focusing on that knot settling deep in you.

"Spoke too soon. Want to help her out, Zoro?" Sanji grunts. He's not going to last much longer now. He feels the pressure coming to it's limit.

Zoro comes closer to you and kisses you. It's nearly not enough to keep you quiet though as your moans leak in between each kiss. Your fingers come up behind Zoro's neck, deepening the kiss as you feel your toes curling in anticipation.

Soon Sanji's thrusts become erratic and once he feels your walls clenching around him as you cum, it's over for him. He stills inside of you, shooting his load. Sanji helps you ride out your orgasm, circling your clit gently till you push him back.

There's a moment where you're slumped on the counter, forehead pressed against Zoro's. Sanji is inside of you not moving, his fingers caressing up and down your back. Your pussy spasms around his softening cock every so often.

Only when you attempt to straighten up does he pull out and helps you pull up your panties and shorts, seeing you like the mess that comes afterwards.

Sanji tucks himself back into his trousers and buttons up his wrinkled shirt, tucking it in as if nothing happened. Wrapping his arm around your waist Sanji kisses your temple and whispers another praise in your ear.

The two men exchange looks and smile as you lean tiredly against the blonde. The arrangement you three have is unorthodox but it is convenient. You make good use of your time giving them both the attention and affection they need.

[astral-herald]

arcane's depiction vs. endorsement and why it flopped

~ i think i'm finally ready to complain ~

My general opinion of season 2 is potential squandered. My recent post about Viktor's storyline as an intentional tragedy lets ya'll know that I did, for the most part, enjoy his arc (hot take, I know, and I know lots of people disagree with me, and I fully understand). If he'd gotten the screen time necessary to pull it off, it would have been legendary in my book. But the lack of screen time, even in the case of the season's eventual BBEG, speaks to my greatest issue with Arcane: no commitment.

(Critical) Discussion of Jinx, Ekko, Sevika, Vi, and Viktor below!

Arcane, as a tragedy (I've said this word too many times to count smh), asks the plot, "what is the worst thing that could possibly happen to this character?" and answers in kind. This is why we get Viktor's lost agency until the very end (and like I've said in the past, I completely understand and hold space for those who dislike this route).

If we ask this same question of the following characters, the scope of loss and despair innate to Arcane's final narrative is made very clear:

Sevika: a revolutionary forever devoted to the cause, not the individual, is nominated as an individual to represent the masses in a governmental body that has no interest in her class-conscious ideal.

Ekko: the people's hero in every sense of the word who never sees the fruits of his labor/sacrifice and who goes without the acknowledgement he deserves (more than any other Arcane character).

Vi: the ultimate victim of Piltover police brutality coerced, through grief, trauma, and loss, into working for the system that oppressed her. Even Caitlyn, for all her good intentions, seems incapable of ever understanding this.

Viktor: a genius hellbent on ending the same suffering he endured at the hands of Piltover's oppression has his agency revoked, driving him to inflict the same choicelessness he endured on Zaunite innocents.

On paper, these arcs are devastatingly sensical. And we don't always need happy endings in our stories (I'd sure like them, more often than not, of course). We can and should witness the harsh realities of class oppression if we don't experience them ourselves. The writing team painstakingly crafted and foreshadowed these worst-case scenarios throughout season 1. For example, in 1x07, Ekko being immediately shot at by Marcus at the bridge confirms our suspicions that Piltover Enforcers are a lost cause, not just full of bad apples but internally broken beyond repair. It felt that, despite all the hope, this struggle was doomed, and we were careening toward something dark - "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good."

Had these arcs been successful, audiences would be confronted with the systemic issues we see today that implicate the physical and mental health of downtrodden individuals on account of lazy, prejudiced leadership. This actively happens. It is actively happening, sans the fantasy of it all. This is where Arcane should have shined: they depict the tragedy of these characters, but DO NOT endorse it.

But Arcane chickens out and the entire thing fails. Here are the Flop Era Spark Notes:

Maddie is the egregious bad apple stereotype that absolves all other agents of the regime. She clearly is not a stand-in for Enforcers at large because, all of a sudden, they're capable of coordinated artillery strikes that are necessary to the defense of Piltover, which the viewer must suddenly and abundantly care about. So glad she died. Also, Arcane, you cannot introduce abject warfare in the last 30 minutes of your show successfully.

Jinx's "revolutionary" plot was a red herring, and Sevika humbly vying for the spot was never delivered upon. They pay lip service to the Undercity organizing, but the scene is interrupted for larger (messier) plot concerns almost immediately. No commitment. No depiction to even refrain from endorsing.

Ekko and the Firelight Tree. Clearly this was set up as a means of showing how Piltover's mistakes were physically seeping into the only sanctuary left in Zaun. Yet this is just...never resolved? If someone has some insights into this, please let me know. No depiction. No discussion about endorsement.

What could Vi specifically gain by aligning with the Enforcers/Piltover? Human connection with Cait, sure, but why return to them in 2x06? Vi's character begged all season for development, but she kept returning to her nonsensical error of her ways (looking backwards) until the very end, and this is basically what "kills" Jinx. This is a nod to her lonesomeness post 1x03, sure, but to what end? Again, why the Enforcers?!? Oh, because now that Cait has been redeemed and Sevika is in Piltover to save the day, there are no systemic issues left to fix? Sure, Riot.

WHY DEVELOP VIKTOR'S ENTIRE HEXCORE ARC OFF SCREEN?I'M ADMITTEDLY BIASED ABOUT THIS, BUT THE AMOUNT OF DISCUSSIONS I'VE HAD WITH VIKTOR NATION ABOUT THE DEGREE TO WHICH HE WAS INFLUENCED/MANIPULATED BY THE HEXCORE (now that we know Sky was a manifestation of his humanity, not her Actual Self) IS DESPICABLE. HIS COMPROMISED AGENCY NEEDS TO BE FRONT AND CENTER AND OBVIOUS, OR ELSE IT SURE SEEMS LIKE RIOT IS ENDORSING THE LACK OF AGENCY IN VIKTOR'S STORY. I shouldn't have to make 1k word posts to explain this. I'll do it because I love him with my whole heart, but still.

I begged and pleaded for months for BBEG Viktor (I'm really proud of my predictions from October), but by introducing a villain/conflict beyond the Piltover/Zaun dichotomy, Riot severed all threads of class conflict that were so rife and exciting in season 1. The proletariat and the bourgeoise will never coalesce like they did by the end of 2x09 without systemic revolution. Sevika is just one individual. Ekko's people need him. Jinx and Viktor are gone. Vi is downtrodden, and we have SO LITTLE to show for it.

In summary, we just didn't get enough explicit explanation of any character development to make Arcane-As-Tragedy successful. They did not stick the landing. The finale leaves us all with various bad tastes in our mouth. Instead of lamenting the harsh reality of oppression, I'm confused about what Riot prioritizes and agrees with, what they aim to criticize, and what they condemn.

I'll die on the hill that revoking Viktor's agency has the potential to be one of the greatest tragic hero storylines I've ever seen, but it's a lonely hill because I'm fighting against the writing team's consistent flops. At least Balayage Viktor was so gorgeous.

shameless self plug for my earlier discussion about the innate political clashes in season 1 that were abandoned for flashy fantasy fights in season 2:

[elisabethdeep-blog]

Gotta make a post about my best DunMeshi neurospicy boi

Lotta content out there about Laios' autistic traits but where o where is the Senshi rep?

Senshi's dedication to Dungeon trophic systems makes Laios' special interest look like a well-thumbed pamphlet. (Granted Senshi has had significantly longer to cook; Laios is a baby).

Senshi's limited emoting is baked-in to his character model- that thousand yard stare, most of his face occluded by his habitual helmet (masked, even...... How many folks pine for covid masks obviating the need to manage their faces constantly?)

He overheard someone mention his special interest and Walked Right Up to a Group of Strangers to brazenly asplain them a thing. Marcille makes a bridge-mending bid regarding the mosses in the scorpion hotpot (after her previous truculent outbursts) and he totally deadpans her, because he didn't even notice.

He is VERY COMMITED to his ethical position on dungeon ecology. More than once he's disrupted Marcille Right at the point of release of a spell, after she's been chanting for like a paragraph, because she's going to contravene some principle of his.

Also

Speaking of Marcille, he demonstrates some pretty rigid, black-and-white thinking around magic, that doesn't seem internally consistent. He's repeatedly reanimating magical constructs (golems), an explicitly controlled magical act, but is Very Very reluctant to submit to being charmed with WaterWalk; his spoken reasoning about this just doesn't hold water.

Oh and he's totally neglected his personal hygiene for basically ever. He's averse to cleaning up for the sake of being bespelled, but other than magic, seems fine with getting the salon treatment. This isn't a Toph Beifong 'protective layer of earth', he's just forgotten to care about not being covered with monster gore.

PDA? The fellow has one (1) social skill, namely, he exercises any discretion on opening his mouth to argue. But that holds him back exactly NONE when he decides he's done listening. The first time we see this is gathering Mandrakes, when he doesn't SAY he's done with Marcille's opinions, but he Does just go ahead and exercise his damn autonomy. a MUCH stronger example is when Chilchuck is guiding them through the trap rooms. Senshi gets roundly (and rightly!) chewed out by Chilchuck, and his response isn't the sensible 'sorry Chilchuck, maybe I could walk more directly behind you so I can more closely match your steps', but to BRAZENLY DANCE ALL OVER THE TRAP FLOOR! the only reason that doesn't kill the whole party is The Plot. It's not even that he doesn't appreciate Chilchuck's skill- he just don't like getting chastised! Same with Anne the Kelpie! Senshi's gonna do what Senshi's gonna do! He WILL not be rushed, he WILL not be chastised, he WILL not be directed! How do we think he came to be living in a dungeon all by himself in the first place!!

AND THE BREAD!

THIS IS NOT THE DEMAND OF A NEUROTYPICAL DWARF

Look there's more. After Chilchuck's impassioned and heartfelt plea, Senshi suggests they should return to the surface because they're 'low on seasoning'.

He's a dwarf who turned his adamantium shield into a cookpot.

He can meticulously maintain his mithril cooking knife but not his axe.

He responds well to other characters meeting him halfway but initiates few (no?) such bids himself. There's rarely any guile in Senshi, and when he is being shifty, he's Bad At It- and again, usually its in service of demand avoidance, like when he capitalises on Marcille's toilet break to reanimate his golems.

Senshi is the monomaniac that society has spent Decades trying to iron out of my wrinkly brain.

I hope to see him also find a place in the neurosparkly constellations.

[genericpuff]

This plot point annoyed me so much! I thought she was finally going to open up to Persephone about the reasons why she hated Hades so much, about what he did to her, but no! They just introduced a new yet unnecessary character to the story 🤦🏼‍♀️

What are your thoughts about it?

oh yeah it annoyed the piss out of me too and for one very big reason that is CHRONIC in LO:

It's a solution to a problem Demeter didn't have.

This happens to a lot of characters throughout the comic. They'll have some kind of plot-driven conflict or character-driven flaw, and then it will be solved by something else entirely that had nothing to do with their original problem or doesn't line up with the theme of their storytelling. Minthe had insecurity issues and a toxic relationship with Hades? Just give her a classroom full of children to babysit! Hades had infertility issues? That's fine, Persephone somehow fixes those issues because at the end of the comic they have babies and Hades has his happy ending so it's fine! Hera was in an unhappy relationship with Zeus and had trauma from her past as a victim of Kronos? No problem, just make her an all powerful fertility goddess! Persephone accidentally causes winter which kills possibly thousands of people? Gaia is here to save the day, and also she's the one who makes Persephone return to the Mortal Realm for a couple months with full visitation rights. Apollo is a serial rapist who's attempted murder on several occasions, even against his own father in an attempt to take the throne? Community service, that'll solve it.

Demeter is one of the biggest examples of Rachel's inability of writing an actual cohesive plotline. She writes like the only goal is to come up with new twists to keep people reading each week without ever considering what themes or questions she should be answering throughout. So when she does pose questions, the answers often wind up being severely disconnected because she can't be bothered to actually plan out a plotline with narrative structure, she just needs 'things' to happen. To put it bluntly and simply, she writes like how a 13 year old on Wattpad would write, no actual thinking about the material she's presenting, no consideration for the curtains and what color they are, just "make the things happen so that people will keep reading because that's what writing is!"

Demeter's problem wasn't her failing to understand Persephone. It was people failing to understand her when she had reasonable cause to both be wary of Persephone moving to Olympus as well as Hades and his intentions with her daughter. But because Rachel needs to have the perfect happy ending for her self-insert power fantasy couple, she resorts to gaslighting both Demeter as well as the audience by extension into believing that the solution to Demeter's character arc... is understanding Persephone more.

Like first of all, the moral "people just want to be understood" is way, WAY too "baby's first storyline" at this point in the story especially when we've tried to tackle much bigger topics like sexual assault, and when we know how complex Demeter's backstory is. There's no way she needs to be told by Hebe that people just want to be "understood". She absolutely knows this already, and has been fighting to be understood by her siblings and peers and family for centuries, but of course, everyone sees her as just "the contrarian".

But then the final solution is... the sudden appearance of Demophoon as her long-lost child, and Hades giving her the volcanoes. That's it. She doesn't get to actually become Queen of the Mortal Realm, she never really gets closure over the past 2000 years of abuse from everyone around her, Hades just - like with everyone - buys her affection and she gets a new baby to pour her attention into instead of Persephone and we're all just forced to go along with it for the sake of Rachel's fantasy.

Rachel can't write (￢_￢;)

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello! Your blog is great, long time follower first time asker. Im about to start outlining my first novel (short, 30k words), and its like, sci fi noir detective? But I wanted to ask what you think the best way to world build for a novel is bc I'm famously not, great at that. Thanks ! yall have a great day !

World-building is not my strength, and as much as I admire the DnD approach of creating an entire world before you even have a plot for it, I cannot do that. My approach, therefore, is to lean on the technique of all world-building should be in service to the story. Getting too attached to a thousand details that will be left on the cutting floor is a hard no for me.

A common complaint about fantasy books is that they don't often lay out how the world works, but that doesn't bother me too much. You could spend twenty pages on trading deals and agricultural practices (and should if they interest you!), but none of that may make it to the final draft. You may be better served by trying the following:

Start With Your Premise

Let's keep it real simple. Magical abilities are sorted by color. Minerals mined from Mars start creating hallucinations that seem to predict the future. Sharks sprout legs and start terrorizing seaside towns, etc. Even if you only have an inkling of how the surrounding world will be, you probably have an idea of what you want the plot to be like.

Where is your character in regards to your concept? If there's magic in your book, what is theirs like or what do they know about it? Could they have some hidden insight on those hallucinations (actually warnings from long-dead Martians!)? Are they are shark scientist who's pretty damn sure land sharks aren't real?

Establish the baseline of your character's everyday life in the world they're in will help you figure out how to expand from there.

Establish Your Rules

Before you get off and running, sit down and figure out what's doable and what isn't. If the magic/phenomena/walking sharks manifest in a particular way, what can't it/they do? Setting your rules down ahead of time will keep yourself from writing yourself into a corner, but it also helps you justify breaking them later, if need be.

Don't, however, stick too rigidly to these rules as you go along. You might figure out a brilliant plot twist that requires going back and realigning your world to make it work! Making them up as you go along, however, may give you a much harder job when editing. Believe me, I've learned that the hard way.

Expand Your World With Your Plot/Character

Again, this is mainly to spare you tossing out pages and pages of scenes and settings you can't justify keeping in the final product. Keeping the narrow focus of your world-building on your character, starting with their normal state of things (their village, their daily life, etc), expanding when the inciting event launches them beyond what they know (holy shit, sharks with legs!), and each new problem or challenge will give you opportunity to expand your world-building in service of your story.

You don't have to do this as you go along - if you know the climax or a critical moment in your book requires establishing something specific about your world, you can weave that into your story long before it becomes important.

For example, your character may have an argument with the lead engineer of the spaceship's engines, who makes a fool of them by pointing out something they don't know. This gives a scene to establish characterization (revealing insecurities and flaws, establish relationships (rivalries, love interests, etc), and gives you a moment to establish key facts about your world by showing off the impressive engine room ahead of time. Later, when your character scrambles through it dodging bad guys to prevent the ship from crashing, the reader will already be familiar with the importance of what the character is trying to accomplish.

Be Open to Change

I recently went back to a project I haven't touched in years and was astonished to find that I ripped out huge chunks of my previous world-building, revamped the premise, changed entire conflicts and characters, and... it works so much better than what I was struggling to accomplish before.

Now don't get me wrong! This process was so emotionally devastating at the time that I put the entire thing away for years, convinced it wasn't savable. In hindsight, it was worth it, but I don't recommend this approach at all. Some concepts may be better for DnD campaigns or personal projects, and not novels. Some may be better in a different medium, like a comic or an indie game. You never have to throw anything out - unused ideas can be reworked into other stories. Maybe even a sequel!

Give yourself space to hit some storytelling walls, change up your ideas that aren't working, and experiment. All work is good work, even if some of it never ends up on the page. You'll get there.