#she's so fun to play I'm pleasantly surprised

[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!

[velarisdusk]

Melted Resolve

Hockey AU | Helion x Reader x Tarquin

Series Masterlist Part 2 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 4 - Shattered

word count: 15k (i got carried away i'm so sorry they're so hot) content: [ explicit sexual content, PIV (protected), oral sex (m&f receiving), voyeuristic elements, dirty talk, praise, degradation, light choking, public sex (rooftop setting), threesome, dominance/submission, overstimulation, hair pulling, cum play (kinda?), gagging with panties (sure you can guess where the cum play comes in now huh) | infidelity, alcohol, strong language, emotional conflict ] (if i missed any, and im sure i did, pls lmk) summary: In the aftermath of a triumphant victory, you join the Vipers at a club they frequent downtown for a night of celebration. Yet, the shadow of past secrets lingers, especially with Rhysand and Azriel nearby. As the night unfolds, a secluded rooftop terrace leaves you grappling with exhilarating passion and profound guilt as you confront the weight of your choices. author's note: first, this one is hot so strap in. second, appreciate how nice and fun and carefree things are rn... that's all :) EDIT: WAIT ALSO LMK IF YOU FIND TYPOS PLS ITS SO EMBARRASSING TO FIND THEM A WEEK LATER

The clink of shot glasses hitting the table was a sharp contrast to the thumping bass of the music around you. You felt the burning liquid slide down your throat, its fiery path leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Everyone around you cheered, the celebratory energy palpable.

Cassian sat beside you, his arm casually draped over the back of your seat. His laughter was warm and infectious as he watched Nesta try not to gag (“I fucking hate cinnamon, you all know that!”). The ambient noise of the club was a constant hum, punctuated by bursts of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional cheer from the dance floor as a particularly popular song came on. The music was loud, the lyrics indistinct, but the beat infectious, making it impossible to sit still for long. You could feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest, matching the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

The VIP booth offered a perfect vantage point for watching the dance floor, bathed in a kaleidoscope of colors from the overhead lights. The air was thick with a mix of perfume, sweat, and the faint scent of spilled alcohol — a blend that was uniquely nightlife. Occasionally, a server would approach your booth, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing trays of drinks with a grace that seemed almost supernatural. 

You could taste the lingering sweetness of your cocktail on your lips, a fruity concoction that was deceptively potent, its effects buzzing pleasantly through your veins. Seated comfortably in the plush leather seats, the polished wood table in front of you was littered with empty glasses and half-finished cocktails from the past hour’s celebration. A bottle of champagne stood in the center, its neck adorned with a thin layer of condensation, glistening in the low light.

Your eyes drifted to the hookah in the center of the table. Elain, her face serene, took an expert drag, the smoke curling elegantly from her lips as she leaned back. Her ease with the hookah wasn’t surprising; you’d seen her with a cigarette more often than not these days. 

Around the booth, your friends were caught up in the joy of winning this evening’s game. Feyre and Elain were deep in conversation with Nesta and Gwyn, their faces alight with excitement. Emerie and Mor were dancing nearby, their movements fluid and carefree, drawing appreciative glances from those around them. Tarquin and Helion were engaged in a lively conversation, their gestures becoming more expressive with each drink. Tarquin seemed to glow under the club lights, his easy smile infectious. Helion, with his rich, dark hair and striking presence, seemed to catch eyes from all over, even while seated at the booth.

Despite the lively atmosphere, a knot of unease twisted in your stomach. It had been a little over a month since Tarquin sprained his ankle, leading to your encounter with Rhysand and Azriel. Since then, you'd been avoiding them, wary of getting too close or being alone with either of them; you were afraid of what you might do if you did. But tonight, they were impossible to ignore. You couldn't help but steal glances at them, the memories vivid and intrusive. Their presence was magnetic, drawing your eyes despite yourself, and you felt a pang of guilt each time you were caught looking.

Rhysand, in a black button-down with the first few buttons undone, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his chest, was lounging on the opposite side of the rounded booth. His piercing gaze occasionally met yours, making your stomach flip each time. You couldn't help but recall the feel of his toned, firm chest flush against yours that day in the locker room. And Azriel, dressed in a fitted dark grey shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders — the shoulders you’d seen tensing in the moments before he caught you watching, the ones you dug your nails into not 20 minutes later — stood leaned against the edge of the booth with his arms crossed. His hazel eyes were unreadable but no less intense.

Cassian’s laughter in your ear anchored you as your thoughts began to wander.

Noticing your tension, Tarquin placed his hand on your thigh. His warm touch rested against the skin left bare by your miniskirt. "You good?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the club’s noise, concern evident in his eyes. You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile, though it felt more like a grimace. The concern on his face didn't fully fade, but he let it go, returning to his conversation with Helion. His hand remained on your thigh.

Emerie and Mor returned from the dance floor just as the server arrived with another round of drinks. They squealed in delight, grabbing two fruity cocktails from the tray, their laughter bubbling over as they toasted to perfect timing. Mor, followed by Emerie, plopped down next to Azriel, her golden curls glowing in the club lights. The sudden movement caused Helion, then everyone else, to scoot over, filling the booth to capacity.

The table erupted into easy banter. Stories were swapped, each more outrageous than the last, and laughter rang out freely. Jokes flew back and forth, drawing everyone into the lively exchange.

“Did anyone catch Challengers last weekend?” Feyre asked, leaning back with a grin. The buzz of conversation dipped for a moment as she spoke.

Gwyn’s eyes lit up. “Yes, oh my God — it was wild!” she blurted out, her excitement making her words tumble out rapidly, the memory of the film still fresh and vivid.

Cassian leaned in. “Isn't that the one with the tennis players who all end up...?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, drawing laughter from around the table. 

“Yeah, there’s a pretty light threesome scene,” Nesta smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “The two guys end up making out.” Her tone was casual, but the corner of her lips quirked up.

“Them making out wasn’t even the best part,” you cut in, “it was the sexual tension between them. So hot.”

Mor grinned mischievously. “What do you all think about that kind of arrangement? Threesomes, I mean, not tennis.” She looked around the table with a teasing smile.

Azriel, leaning comfortably against the booth, took a long pull from his beer, hiding a smirk. 

“Eh, I’ve thought about it,” Feyre shrugged, “but I think I'd rather focus my attention on one person. Quality over quantity, you know? Maybe at some point though, I won’t rule it out entirely.” Her fingers absently traced patterns on the condensation of her glass. Her eyes darted briefly to Rhysand, a private, knowing look passing between them. You caught the exchange, your gaze lingering on Rhysand until he met your eyes. Your brows furrowed slightly, suspicion and curiosity crossing your face. He only shrugged, though you could tell it was an effort for him to keep his lip from twitching up into a smirk.

Nesta’s eyes glinted as she spoke. "Could be fun, if the mood strikes. Why not?" Her casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the weight of her words.

“You all already know where I stand on that." Helion’s smooth voice cut through the momentary lull in conversation, audible even above the pulsing beat of the club music and the buzz of surrounding patrons.

Tarquin tapped his fingers lightly on the polished wood, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked about the table. “It’s all about finding the right balance.” His tone was playful, yet thoughtful, reflecting his careful consideration of the topic. 

Cassian, who had been jovially participating in the discussion, suddenly tensed beside you. His eyes darted to Tarquin's hand, then back to your face. 

With deliberate casualness, Cassian pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your shoulders. "Speaking of balance," he interjected, his voice light but with an undercurrent of challenge, only loud enough for you three to hear, "I think we’re tipping a bit too far into the ‘friendly’ side of things, don’t you?" His gaze pointedly dropped to Tarquin's hand.

Tarquin, ever smooth, simply smiled and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before removing his hand. "No harm in a little friendliness," he responded, his tone light but eyes sharp, meeting Cassian's stare with a hint of amusement. The tension lingered for a moment before dissipating into the background noise of the club.

Rhysand finally spoke up, his voice smooth and casual. “Sometimes the most… intense experiences come when you least expect them,” he said, his gaze briefly meeting yours before shifting to Azriel. “Wouldn’t you agree, Az?” He only nodded in response, taking another swig of his beer.

As the conversation moved on, you caught Mor’s gaze traveling between the three of you, her expression unreadable behind her glass. You recalled that day in the locker room, her sharp eyes taking in your damp hair, the pointed questions at karaoke night. "Nothing happened," you'd insisted, but her skeptical look had spoken volumes. The unspoken warning hung in the air – if there was something to tell Cassian, you'd better do it before she found out.

Now, watching Mor's subtle scrutiny, you felt that familiar knot of unease tighten in your stomach. Her suspicions, it seemed, were far from laid to rest.

“I’ll go get us another round of shots,” you spoke over the music. A chorus of voices erupted, overlapping in their enthusiasm.

“Fireball!” (“No!”)

“Fruit loop shots!”

“How about gummy bear shots?”

With a roll of your eyes and a playful smirk, you cut through the chaos. “Alright, I’ll get a mix of those. Be right back.”

You slid out of the booth, and though most returned to their conversations, you felt the weight of eyes on you as you made your way to the bar. The crowd pulsed around you, bodies moving in sync with the music, but your mind was elsewhere. The knot of unease tightened with every step. 

At the bar, you flagged down the bartender, who greeted you with a dazzling smile. “What can I get you?”

“Can I get ten green tea shots, eight fruit loop shots, and eight gummy bear shots?” you replied, leaning in so he’d hear you over the thumping music.

He nodded, setting to work with practiced ease. As you waited, you glanced back at your friends but found yourself face-to-face with a broad, muscular chest.

“Want to let me in on what Rhysand was talking about?” Helion’s voice was smooth and teasing, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the rush in your ears. If he’d picked up on it, who else might have noticed? Had Cassian just hidden it well?

“Relax,” he laughed lowly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hand was so large it wrapped over your shoulder, its warmth both reassuring and intimidating. “I don’t think anyone else caught it. But now you’ve got to explain what ‘it’ is, (y/n)…”

“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Rhys is drunk,” you say, surprisingly convincingly. Must have been the liquid courage. 

“Yes he is. And Rhys is an honest drunk, so wouldn’t you like for me to get him into an Uber before he…?”

You both fell silent, the thumping bass and clinking glasses of the club filling the void. The music was a distant roar, and the chatter around you felt like a heavy blanket, smothering the words you couldn’t quite say.

“This is extortion,” you say flatly. 

“I’m just looking out for you,” he said, a sly grin playing on his lips. “If you shed some light on this for me, I’ll make sure nothing slips that you don’t want slipping. Scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

You’d love to scratch that back. 

“What do you think he meant…?” You were trying to gauge how much you should reveal. 

“I know what he meant. I’m not stupid, and I’m not drunk yet. I want to hear you say it.”

Rhysand directed his question at Azriel, making eye contact with you as he did. Anyone with half a brain who caught that look would know what he meant.

“If you already know then there’s no use in me saying it.”

“Then I don’t know. I only have a suspicion that needs confirming,” he smirked. 

“… We did…” Your words were hardly audible, but it didn’t matter because he pressed. 

“‘We did’ what?”

With a roll of your eyes and a glance back at the booth, you loosed a sigh. The words came out almost in a whisper. “We fucked.”

“When?”

“A month or so ago. When Tarquin sprained his ankle.”

“That’s why you took so long with my phone,” a voice cut in, the tone somehow both cool and accusatory. Tarquin. 

You whipped your head around to face him but froze. When had he gotten behind you? How had you not noticed? You’d been facing the booth the entire time!

“I figured something was up when Cass looked pissed after you answered the phone. Once I heard you were stuck in the locker room with them? I mean, it practically writes itself, (y/n).” At the look on your face, he continued. “He doesn’t know, but he definitely suspects.”

Your heart pounded as you looked between Helion and Tarquin, trying to gauge their reactions. Both had a teasing glint in their eyes, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Why didn't you just tell me?" Tarquin asked, his voice laced with mock curiosity. "We could have had some fun with this."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "Oh, shut up, it’s not like I meant for it to happen,” you muttered. 

Helion's hand, warm and solid, was still on your shoulder, his thumb absently tracing small circles that only added to your anxiety. “So, what now?" he asked, his tone playful. "Are you going to keep hiding it, or are you going to let us in on the fun?"

Before you could answer, the bartender returned with a tray laden with shots. “Here you go,” he said cheerfully, sliding the tray onto the bar. “Rhysand’s tab, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you muttered, grateful for the distraction. You reached for the tray, desperate for an excuse to leave this conversation behind, but Helion’s hand finally left your shoulder and closed over your own.

“I’ll carry these,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tried to pull your hand back, but he held firm, his grip gentle but unyielding. “Helion, please...”

“No, I’m a gentleman.” He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “We’re not done talking about this. But for now, let’s get these back to the table. We don’t want anyone to get suspicious, do we?”

Reluctantly, you let him take the tray. Tarquin’s eyes followed you as you turned back toward the booth, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

As you slid back into your seat, the conversation around the table picked up again, oblivious to the tension that had just unfolded. Cassian’s arm found its way back around your shoulders, his laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you.

Helion placed the tray in the center of the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Shots, anyone?” he called out, his voice light and carefree. Hands from all around reached for them, liquid splashing out of glasses as they were pulled from the tray. 

“To a winning team, and good friends,” Cassian said, his voice warm. 

You forced a smile, lifting one of the glasses. “To good friends,” you said, your voice lost under everyone else’s.

The glasses clinked together, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in the revelry. But as you drank, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this charade, and what would happen when it all came crashing down. 

Helion leaned closer to Cassian, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Eris, of all people. "Mind if I steal her for a dance?" Helion asked, his tone light but dripping with suggestion.

Cassian glanced at you, then back at Helion, a playful but knowing grin on his face. "Go ahead," he said, his voice tinged with possessive amusement. "Just make sure you bring her back in one piece."

Helion circled the table and extended his hand to you, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. As he led you to the dance floor, you glanced back at Cassian, who was now fully absorbed in his conversation with Eris.

The music pulsed around you, a steady beat that thrummed in your chest. He pulled you close, his hands resting lightly on your waist. You felt a bit tense, the events from earlier still lingering in your mind.

"Relax," Helion murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "We’re here to have a good time."

You nodded, trying to let go of your unease. Gradually, you began to sway with the rhythm, allowing yourself to get lost in the music. Helion’s touch was gentle but confident, guiding you with subtle movements. As you became more comfortable, your body moved more fluidly with his.

"That’s it, good girl," Helion murmured, his voice a soothing contrast to the thumping music.

The dance grew more intimate as he pulled you closer, his hands resting lower on your back. The closeness created a warm, almost electric tension between you. You found yourself responding to his movements, your bodies moving in sync.

Just then, Tarquin appeared beside you, slipping his arm around your waist. The sudden addition of his presence made the dance even more intense. Tarquin's proximity pressed you snugly between the two of them.

“Mind if I join in?” Tarquin’s voice was low, a playful edge to his tone.

You felt a flicker of anxiety and glanced around, briefly searching for Cassian. Instead, your gaze locked onto Eris, who stood at the edge of the dance floor. His eyes met yours for a moment, his expression unreadable but carrying a smirk that made your pulse quicken. As quickly as it came, the moment was gone. Tarquin gently turned your face back toward him, your chin in his grasp. “Hey, stay with us,” he said, his voice reassuring.

You relaxed slightly as their combined presence guided you through the dance. “Is this how you usually dance with someone?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Only when they’re as stiff as a board,” Tarquin replied with a chuckle. “You’re doing great, though.”

Helion smirked, his hand lingering on your hips as he moved in rhythm with you. “He’s right. And I’d say you’re better than anyone we’ve danced with tonight.”

You let out a soft laugh, trying to shake off the last of your nerves. “Well, I guess I have good company.”

Tarquin leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “If you keep this up, I might just want to keep you between us all night.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. 

Before you could look back at him in shock, Helion’s fingers tightened their grip, his voice low and teasing. “Careful, Tarquin. You might make her think she’s the center of the universe.”

With an arched brow, you looked at Helion and retorted with a playful smirk, “Well, aren’t I?”

Tarquin leaned closer to the man at your front. “You know, Helion” he murmured, “being the center of attention isn’t so bad. Especially when the attention comes from us.” Sensing the opportunity, he brought his lips to your ear. “If you keep that smile going, we might just find a few more ways to keep you entertained.”

You felt a flutter of anticipation, caught between the two of them as they moved against you. Helion’s touch was confident, and Tarquin’s words were a tantalizing promise of what might come next. You couldn’t help but feel drawn deeper into the flirtatious dance they were orchestrating.

Helion’s hands roamed slowly over your waist as he drew you closer, his touch electrifying against your skin. His lips grazed your ear, his voice a sultry whisper. “You’re doing a great job of keeping us entertained.”

You shivered at the sensation of their combined presence, their touches becoming increasingly intimate. Their movements were fluid, guiding you into a rhythm that was both exhilarating and intense. Helion’s grip tightened, pulling you against him as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “You feel so good like this,” he said softly.

You could feel the rising heat and the tantalizing pressure of their bodies against yours. The music seemed to fade away, leaving only the intense connection between the three of you. Each touch and whisper only deepened the charged atmosphere, making it hard to think of anything but the electric sensation of their attention.

After what felt like an eternity of heated dancing, you began to feel a wave of dizziness. You needed air. Sensing your discomfort, Tarquin and Helion exchanged a knowing look.

Tarquin’s hand found yours, his touch gentle but firm. “Let’s get some fresh air,” he suggested, his voice a soothing contrast to the earlier heat.

Helion nodded in agreement, slipping an arm around you for support. “We know just the place.”

Guiding you through the crowd, they led you toward a quieter area. They approached a security guard stationed at the door to the stairs leading to the rooftop terrace. The guard eyed the VIP bands on your wrists and let you all through without a word. As you ascended the stairs, Helion slipped the guard a generous tip, murmuring, “Don’t let anyone else up.”

As you reached the rooftop, the cool night air hit you like a refreshing breeze, cutting through the lingering heat from the club. The city lights stretched out before you, their twinkle a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos below.

Tarquin and Helion led you to a corner of the terrace. The space was elegantly furnished with plush seating and low tables, providing a serene escape from the pulsating energy inside.

Tarquin gestured to a comfortable chaise lounge. “Here, sit down. You look like you could use a minute.”

You took a seat, grateful for the respite. Helion moved to a nearby table and poured you a glass of cool water from a pitcher. “This should help,” he said with a reassuring smile as he handed it to you.

The chill of the water was soothing, and you drank it down eagerly, feeling the dizziness start to subside. Tarquin settled down beside you, his proximity warm and comforting, while Helion took a seat on the other side, his gaze flicking between you and the cityscape.

“So, how are you feeling now?” Tarquin asked, his voice soft.

“Much better, thanks,” you replied, taking a deep breath of the crisp air. “I just needed a break.”

Helion leaned back, a casual, knowing smile on his lips. “You know, fresh air is nice, but it’s even better with the right company.” He glanced at you with a twinkle in his eye.

Tarquin tilted his head, his grin more genuine. “And I think I recall you saying we’re wonderful company.”

Still looking straight ahead, you replied, “I don’t know about wonderful; I think the word I used was ‘good.’”

Helion’s smile widened. “I’d say ‘good’ is an understatement. Let us prove it to you,” his smile turned into a smirk. “We could make this night a lot more interesting.”

You turned to face him, your eyes flashing with a mix of resolve and irritation. You had given them the benefit of the doubt when they danced with you, assuming it was just the heat of the moment or perhaps a bit of playful flirtation. But now that you were alone with them on the terrace… You had sensed the shift the moment they suggested stepping away from the crowd, their casual touches and lingering glances all hinting at an underlying agenda.

“No, I’m not interested,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the cool night air as you turned to face Tarquin on your other side. “I came up here for some air, not to be part of a game.” The words came out sharper than you intended.

Tarquin’s grin faltered slightly but then softened as he leaned in, his voice gentle but persistent. “You’ve been with Rhys and Az. We’re all here, and it seems a shame to waste the opportunity when we’re all just looking for a good time.”

The comment hit you hard, a sting of anger flaring up. “A good time?” you echoed, disbelief lacing your voice. “You think just because I’ve been with them, you’re somehow entitled to your turn? I don’t owe you anything.”

Helion stepped in, his expression a mix of charm and a hint of irritation. “We’re not trying to make you feel pressured,” he said, shooting a pointed look at Tarquin. “We’re just offering you a chance to enjoy the night with us.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not interested in being part of some game or fulfilling some sort of quota. I’m not going around sleeping with everyone on the team just because they’re interested. If that were the case, this would’ve all been over and done with years ago when you all seemed to lose the ability to keep your mouths shut and be respectful of Cassian and I’s relationship.”

Helion shrugged. “We’re not trying to force anything. Just… We’re here, and you’re here. It could be fun, that’s all.”

Tarquin’s tone grew more earnest. “If you’re not into it, that’s fine. But don’t act like it’s a big deal. We’re just having fun, same as everyone else.”

You took a deep breath, holding your ground. “Two other people are not ‘everyone else.’ I’m not about to give in just because you think you have a right to it.”

Tarquin’s expression softened further, a mix of frustration and something like sympathy in his eyes. “I get that. I really do. But we’re all adults here, and it’s not like we’re asking for anything serious. Just one night.”

He slid his hand to your thigh, the touch lingering with a slow, deliberate caress. The heat from his palm contrasted sharply with the cool night air. His touch was just as it had been in the booth, but now, with Cassian absent, there was no one to reprimand his advances.

Helion, sensing the slight crack in your resolve, leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “You’re overthinking it. It’s just us here, and we’re not asking for anything more than what you’re willing to give. It’s not about entitlement; it’s about enjoying each other.” His hand grazed your shoulder lightly, pushing your hair to the side. His proximity heightened the tension between you all. The warmth of his breath against your ear as he spoke made it hard to ignore the growing desire within you.

You felt the weight of their combined pressure, the playful but persistent charm starting to chip away at your defenses. Despite yourself, you began to question if it was worth fighting against this particular tide. The idea of one more night of reckless indulgence, without any deeper expectations, seemed to blur the line between wrong and thrilling.

You sighed, a conflicted look crossing your face. “I just don’t want to be treated like a prize to be won or a notch on a belt.”

Tarquin’s tone grew more soothing. “We’re not treating you like that. We just thought you might enjoy it. But if you’re not up for it, we can drop it. No hard feelings.”

Helion nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring. “We just want to make sure you’re having as much fun as we are. There’s no pressure.”

You hesitated, the words of their argument settling in your mind. Though part of you was still set on holding firm, you weren’t blind to the coercion in their tone. Of course there was pressure, they’d been pressuring you the whole time. However true, the temptation was hard to ignore. The night was young, and despite your reservations, the allure of a reckless escape with them was incredibly enticing.

You took a deep breath, weighing the tension in the air against your growing desire. You glanced at both Tarquin and Helion, a mix of defiance and resignation in your eyes. 

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But if I do this, it stays between us. No talking about it, no bragging. Just... tonight. Agreed?”

Tarquin’s eyes lit up with a mix of relief and excitement. “Absolutely,” he said quickly, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Helion nodded in agreement, his eyes darkening. “We won’t say a word.”

The air between you shifted, the unspoken agreement hanging heavy. Tarquin leaned closer, the hand on your thigh rubbing and squeezing. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, heightening the anticipation.

Helion’s hand slid to your lower back, his touch both firm and gentle. “You sure you want this?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves and excitement. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sure.”

The three of you were enveloped in the dim light of the terrace, the cool air and their hands roaming over your body raised goosebumps across your skin as they explored with a mix of gentleness and urgency. Every caress was a mix of gentleness and urgency, heightening the anticipation as the city lights below seemed to blur into insignificance.

Tarquin’s lips found yours first, his kiss slow and exploratory. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his tongue traced the contours of your mouth. The kiss deepened, his lips moving with a controlled passion that made your heart race. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity.

“God, you’re stunning,” Tarquin murmured, his voice low and husky. He let his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him. His touch was warm and possessive, sending shivers through you.

Helion, observing with a burning gaze, slid his hands to your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you toward him. As you shifted, he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips grazing your skin in a teasing manner. His hands traveled down your arms, fingers lightly grazing your skin before finding the curve of your hips.

Tarquin’s hands slipped beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. With a playful grin, he shifted you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. His hands explored your back, fingers dancing over your skin as he leaned in to kiss you again, more urgently this time. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing soft bites and kisses that made you gasp.

“You feel incredible,” Tarquin breathed against your skin. 

Helion’s hands were now roaming over your sides, his touch firm but tender as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “What a perfect girl, just for us,” he said, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed against the edge of your ear as he placed soft kisses along your jawline.

The two of them worked in tandem, their touches synchronized and perfectly attuned to your responses. Helion’s hands found their way to your chest, fingertips lightly grazing your curves, while Tarquin’s lips continued to worship your neck and shoulders. He would occasionally lift his gaze to meet yours, his eyes filled with admiration and hunger.

Tarquin’s hands moved from your thighs to your hips, guiding you to move against him as he pulled you closer. His grip tightened slightly, his touch conveying both dominance and affection. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice full of awe. Helion’s hands were equally attentive, tracing the lines of your body with meticulous care. His lips followed the path his fingers traced, placing lingering kisses that made you shiver with pleasure.

You moaned softly as their touches and kisses ignited your senses, but a playful glint appeared in your eyes. You arched your back slightly, pushing against Tarquin’s chest, and let out a breathy laugh. “So, is this how you two always work your charm? Sweet talk and flattery?”

Tarquin’s lips curled into a smirk, his breath warm on your neck as he whispered, “Only when it’s truly deserved. And believe me, you’re worth every word.”

Helion’s hands paused momentarily as he looked into your eyes, his expression both mischievous and earnest. “I thought you’d appreciate the honesty,” he said, his voice smooth. 

You arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips as you met Helion’s gaze. “Honesty, huh? Seems like you both have a knack for turning compliments into a game.”

“Well, if the game’s as enjoyable as this, who are we to complain?” Tarquin’s grin widened, his hands still exploring your back with a touch that was both gentle and possessive.

Helion leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “It’s not just about the words. It’s about making you feel as incredible as you look.”

You shivered at the sensation, the mix of his breath and his touch sending jolts of pleasure through you. “And if I call you out on it?” you challenged, your voice teasing despite the breathless quality it carried.

Tarquin’s fingers danced over your hips, his eyes never leaving yours. “Call us out all you want. We’re still here, giving you exactly what you want.” He ground you down harder onto himself, and you felt the hard outline of his cock through the fabric of his pants. “You do want this, don’t you?” You nod in response.

“Mhm, want it so bad,” you murmur before crashing your lips back onto his. The two of them continued their relentless pursuit of pleasure, their hands and mouths finding new ways to torment you. The atmosphere on the terrace grew more charged with every passing second, your body caught in a whirlwind of sensation. Tarquin’s hands were warm and commanding, his touch making every part of you throb with need. Your shared kiss was deep and demanding as he guided your movements with a blend of passion and control.

Helion’s hands were relentless, his touch exploring every curve of your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. He leaned in to press kisses along your collarbone, his lips brushing against your skin with a teasing, hot breath. His voice was a velvety whisper in your ear, his words a mix of praise and persuasion. “You’re doing so well, so good for us. You’re exactly what we wanted.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down to cup your breasts, his fingers gently kneading and teasing. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, every touch making you writhe against Tarquin’s body. “You like that, don’t you?” Helion’s voice was dripping with both admiration and a hint of something darker.

The edge of humiliation combined with the praise made your cheeks flush, your head spinning with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. “Yes,” you gasped into Tarquin’s mouth, “I like it, I want it.”

Tarquin’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as he rolled his own body against yours. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Tell us how much you want it.”

“Mmm, I want it so badly,” you moaned against his lips, your words barely audible as you ground down on him. The friction was almost unbearable, your body a hot, trembling mess of desire.

Helion’s hands roamed lower, his fingers sliding under your skirt and between your legs, teasing and stroking with practiced ease. He pressed a finger against your clothed clit, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. “Look at you,” he said with a smirk, “so eager, so ready for us. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Your response was a breathless, needy whimper, your body arching into his touch. “Yes, I’m a good girl.”

As the intensity of their touch grew, so did your need for more. Tarquin’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you with an almost reverent touch. His kisses were feverish, trailing down your neck and shoulders, his breath warm and urgent against your skin.

Helion’s fingers deftly worked you to the edge of pleasure. Just as you threw your head back in pleasure, he stole your lips into a kiss with a fierce hunger as his touch grew more insistent. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured between kisses. “You’re making us both so proud.”

The mix of their touches was almost too much to bear, your body quivering with need as they continued their relentless pursuit. Tarquin’s hands slid to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart to allow Helion better access. The air was thick with the sound of your moans and their encouraging praise, every sound heightening the intensity of the moment.

Finally, the need for release became too much to contain. The tension in your body reached its peak, and with a final, shuddering cry of pleasure, you came undone. Helion’s hands continued their relentless work, Tarquin’s grip on you tighter than ever as you experienced an intense, mind-blowing climax.

The overwhelming pleasure of your climax still rippling through you, Helion didn’t waste a moment. He guided you gently but firmly, easing you off Tarquin’s lap and settling you on his own. Your back pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, his grip both possessive and reassuring. You felt his hardened arousal pressing against your back as he adjusted your position.

“Sit up and lean back,” Helion instructed softly, his breath hot against your ear as he pulled your skirt up to your waist. “Tarquin’s going to taste you now.” You complied, your legs parting as Helion held you steady, guiding your legs open wider, exposing you completely. Tarquin wasted no time, finding his way to your most sensitive spots. He nosed over the thin fabric covering your cunt, inhaling your scent deeply. With a whine, you tried to look away, but Helion chastised you, telling you that good girls watched the person making them feel good, and you’re a good girl, right?

You looked back in time to see Tarquin pulling your underwear off slowly, kissing his way down one leg, and kissing his way back up the other. You watched him give Helion the soaked-through flimsy bit of cloth, then threw your head back into Helion’s chest with a choked gasp as he licked a stripe up your center. 

His tongue moved with practiced skill, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You moaned, your hands gripping Helion’s thighs for support as Tarquin’s mouth worked its magic.

Helion’s hands roamed your body, his touch both commanding and adoring. “Be good,” he murmured, his voice low and dominant. “Hold your legs open for Tarquin. Show him how much you want this.”

You adjusted your position, holding your legs apart as instructed. Helion’s hands traveled over your torso, fingers lightly grazing your skin and heightening every sensation. His voice was a mixture of praise and filth. “Look at you, all exposed and eager. Tell him how much you need him,” Helion demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell him what a good girl you are, that you’re here to make him feel amazing.”

You gasped out your responses, the pleasure from Tarquin’s mouth mingling with Helion’s dominant words. “I need you so much, Tarquin,” you moaned. “I’m a good girl, I’ll do whatever I can to make you both feel good.”

Tarquin’s eyes flicked up to meet yours as he continued his relentless work, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Helion’s hands roamed over your body with an almost worshipful touch, his words a mix of admiration and explicit praise.

“You’re doing so well,” Helion continued, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re making us both so proud. Stay like this, just for us.” As Tarquin’s tongue continued its relentless, pleasurable assault, Helion’s grip tightened around you. “Make sure she feels every bit of your attention. I want to hear her scream for you.” His voice was commanding, and laced with an underlying menace.

Tarquin’s eyes flicked up to meet Helion’s, a glimmer of challenge and excitement in his gaze. He intensified his efforts, his tongue moving with greater urgency, the pleasure he gave you unmistakable.

Large hands roamed over your body from behind, guiding you with deliberate touches, but his gaze remained fixed on Tarquin. “You’re doing well, Tarquin, so good for us. But if she comes before I say so, you won’t be finishing tonight. Understand?”

Tarquin’s nod was firm, a mix of eagerness and a hint of defiance in his expression. He focused even more intently on you, his mouth working skillfully to elicit every possible reaction from you. The pleasure was building rapidly, each flick of his tongue drawing the most beautiful, shameless sounds from your lips. Helion’s voice dropped to a low, teasing growl. “Show her how much you want this. Don’t hold back. Make sure she knows just how lucky she is to have us both.”

The pleasure was overwhelming, a swirling vortex of sensation that made it impossible to think of anything but the two men driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Tarquin’s tongue was relentless, each stroke deliberate and calculated, as if he were determined to prove himself under Helion’s watchful eye.

Helion’s hand gripped your chin, tipping your head slightly so you were forced to watch Tarquin’s devotion. “Look at him on his knees,” Helion murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “See how desperate he is to please you? To prove he’s worthy? Tell him how good he’s making you feel. Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Your breath hitched at the command, but the words tumbled from your lips in a breathless moan. “Tarquin, you’re so good… so good at this.” Your praise seemed to spur him on, his efforts becoming even more fervent.

“And…?”

At that moment, Tarquin plunged two fingers into you. “And you’re a good boy— Fuck, you’re such a good fucking boy!” you practically sobbed.

Helion chuckled darkly, clearly pleased by your compliance. His hand slid down your body, his touch firm and possessive. “Don’t be rude, thank her.”

Tarquin’s groan vibrated against your core, his tongue still working its magic even as his eyes flickered up to meet Helion’s gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, determination and submission that made your pulse race when his eyes met yours. He pumped his fingers in and out as he spoke against you. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You taste so good, so sweet… I want to make you feel everything, tell me how to make you feel good.”

He added a gentle, teasing bite to your thigh, his tone turning possessive but still with a hint of deference, as he met your gaze again. "I’ll give you everything you need, whatever you want, just say the word." His words were meant for both of you.

Helion’s hand snaked down between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your clit with a teasing pressure. “Go ahead,” he told him with a knowing smile, and Tarquin’s eyes seemed to light up as he pulled his fingers out and dove back into you. A groan spilled out of you as his tongue worked, not at your dripping arousal, but further down, at the sensitive, puckered skin of your asshole.

Helion’s touch was maddeningly gentle as he continued to tease you, his fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin with a practiced ease. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice dark and sultry, “giving yourself to us like this. You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? So ready for us.”

You moaned, the combination of Tarquin’s skilled tongue and Helion’s filthy words driving you to the edge. But you knew better than to let yourself go without permission. The thrill of holding back, of teetering on the brink while they pushed you to your limits, was almost as intoxicating as the pleasure itself.

Tarquin let out a deep, guttural sound of agreement, his efforts redoubling as he focused entirely on your pleasure. He was determined to draw out your ecstasy, to make you tremble with the need to come while obeying Helion’s command.

Helion’s hand continued to roam over your body, his touch both comforting and possessive. “You’re ours tonight,” he whispered against your temple. 

Your breath caught in your throat, your body quivering with the need to let go. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling as they both worked you closer to the edge. “Please, I need to… I need to come.”

Helion’s grip on your chin tightened, forcing you to keep your eyes locked on Tarquin. “No,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not yet. You’ll come when I say, and not a moment before.”

Tarquin let out a groan of frustration against you but didn’t dare slow down. The denial of release made every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his fingernails into your thighs, feel like a delicious torment. You were so close, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

Helion’s fingers brushed over your lips, and you instinctively parted them, taking them into your mouth. His smirk widened. “Good girl,” he purred. “But you’re getting a bit too loud — isn’t she getting too loud?” Tarquin’s nod was the only indication he heard him, because his movements never faltered. 

Without warning, the fingers in your mouth pulled your lips further apart, and you barely had a moment to process what was happening before he shoved your balled-up panties into your mouth, muffling your desperate moans. The taste of your own arousal on the fabric only heightened the humiliation, and you felt a fresh wave of heat pool in your core.

Tarquin’s eyes flared with lust as he watched, his breathing ragged. He didn’t let up for a second, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, poking and prodding and sucking at your hole, while Helion leaned down to nibble at the exposed edge of the panties now stuffed in your mouth. He inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in your scent. “Can’t wait to taste you on Tarquin’s tongue,” Helion growled, his voice dripping with dark desire. “You’re going to be so good for us, aren’t you?”

Your muffled cries of pleasure grew louder, your entire body shaking with the effort of holding back. Tarquin’s mouth was everywhere, licking and teasing, pushing you further to the brink until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. You were a trembling mess, teetering on the edge of bliss, but you knew you had to wait, had to endure until Helion decided you’d earned it. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. Your mind swam in a sea of need as they both continued to push you further and further. The humiliation of the situation only added to your arousal, and you knew you were at their mercy, utterly helpless to resist. Every second felt like an eternity, the anticipation building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you entirely.

Your body was a trembling mess, the overwhelming need for release making it impossible to think of anything but the searing pleasure consuming you. Helion’s fingers rubbed you fervently, with more pressure and speed. Tarquin’s mouth was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing you in a way that made your head spin. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his nails, sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your willpower slipping with every passing second.

Helion’s voice was a low, commanding growl in your ear. “Hold on just a little longer. You’re being so good for us.”

But the tension in your body was unbearable. Your moans were muffled by the panties stuffed in your mouth, but even that couldn’t silence the desperate, pleading sounds escaping you. The pressure was too much, the pleasure too intense, and despite Helion’s command, you felt yourself slipping.

Tarquin’s tongue found that perfect spot and everything inside you unraveled. Your body bucked against him, a muffled scream of ecstasy escaping your lips as you came hard, the orgasm tearing through you with a force that left you trembling.

Helion’s eyes darkened instantly, his hand tightening on your chin as he realized what had happened. Tarquin paused for a moment, his eyes wide as he looked up at Helion, then back down at you, a mix of shock and concern flickering across his face. He knew you were in trouble now, but he didn’t dare move, his mouth still hovering close to you.

Helion’s grip on your chin was firm as he forced your head back to meet his gaze. “You disobeyed me,” he said, his voice calm but filled with an underlying threat. He pulled the panties from your mouth, letting them dangle from his fingers as he eyed you with a mix of disappointment and desire.“I told you not to come until I gave you permission, and you couldn’t even do that. What happened? Don’t you think that was selfish of you? Do you not want to be our perfect girl?”

You could only whimper in response, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn’t know whether you should answer or hold your tongue, but when you opened your mouth to steady your breaths, he dropped the fabric onto the chaise and gripped your throat. It was just enough to make you gasp for breath, as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Since you couldn’t control yourself, we’re going to make sure you learn some restraint. And you’re going to thank us for it.”

He glanced down at Tarquin, who was still watching with concern and excitement, his eyes flickering with a strange kind of submission. “Keep going,” Helion ordered, his voice firm. “I didn’t say you could stop. But don’t give her your tongue. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Tarquin’s gaze met Helion’s, a silent understanding passing between them. Without hesitation, he moved his mouth away from your skin and positioned his fingers at your entrance. The slow, deliberate way he slid them inside you sent a shudder through your body, but it wasn’t enough—not after the climax you’d already stolen.

Helion’s grip on your throat tightened slightly, a warning, as his other hand moved to cover Tarquin’s, guiding the pace. Tarquin rubbed your clit with the pad of his thumb, but the pressure was teasing, not nearly enough to push you back over the edge.

“You don’t get to come,” Helion growled in your ear, his tone harsh. “You’ll suffer through this until I say otherwise. Tarquin, make sure she feels everything—but don’t give her what she wants. Make her squirm.”

Tarquin’s fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your back arch involuntarily, but just as quickly, he slowed down, drawing out your torture. His thumb circled your clit, the sensation driving you wild, but it wasn’t enough to bring you the relief you so desperately craved.

Helion’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you struggle, your body caught between the pleasure of Tarquin’s fingers and the denial of the orgasm you could feel building again. The hand that he’d had over Tarquin’s came firmly over your mouth, quieting you further. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispered, “You want to come, don’t you? You want it so badly… but you don’t deserve it yet.” Your muffled moans only grew louder. “You’re going to thank us for this later,” he said, a sadistic edge to his voice you’d never heard. “You’re going to learn what it means to be good.”

Tarquin’s fingers continued their relentless, teasing pace, keeping you right on the edge, but never letting you tip over. The frustration was overwhelming, every nerve in your body screaming for release, but you knew better than to disobey Helion’s command again. All you could do was writhe under their control, every inch of your skin tingling.

Tarquin’s fingers faltered for just a moment, his frustration evident as he looked up at you, then Helion, then back at you. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he muttered, his voice low and laced with a mix of annoyance and disappointment. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, but the movement was rougher now, more punishing than teasing. “I hope it was worth it,” he added, his tone cold. “Because now, you’ve made things a lot more difficult for both of us.” He withdrew his fingers just enough to make you whine in protest, then plunged them back in with a sharp thrust, his thumb rubbing against you in tight, controlled circles. “I was looking forward to feeling you come apart on my tongue,” he continued, the frustration clear in his voice.

Helion smirked, clearly enjoying the shift in Tarquin’s demeanor. “That’s right,” he murmured, his voice full of approval. “She doesn’t get to come just because she feels like it.”

Tarquin’s eyes darkened as he focused on you, his frustration at losing his own chance at orgasm fueling his actions as he continued to work you with his fingers. The sensation was intense, the pleasure building in maddening waves, but you knew it wouldn’t be enough to push you over the edge again.

“Do you see what happens when you don’t listen?” Tarquin growled, his thumb circling your clit with that same punishing pressure. “If you’d just been good… if you’d just followed the rules, you’d have everything you want by now. But instead…” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with maddening precision, only to slow down again. “Instead you’re here, squirming, desperate, and unsatisfied.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a hushed, almost tender tone that contrasted sharply with the frustration in his actions. “Just listen to what we say, and you’ll get everything you want,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your chest. “Be good for us, and I’ll make sure you come so hard you’ll be begging for more. But if you can’t do that…” His fingers withdrew almost entirely before plunging back in with a hard thrust. “You’ll just keep losing out, won’t you?”

Helion’s eyes gleamed with a dark, amused light as he observed the dynamic between you and Tarquin. His hands roamed over your hips, giving a firm, possessive grip before he gently, yet firmly, moved you off of him. He guided you to the side, his hands leaving you with a deliberate, almost teasing touch. 

“Now, let’s see how well you can handle this,” Helion purred, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. He gestured toward the loveseat diagonal to the chaise with a commanding flick of his wrist. “Sit there.”

With a mix of frustration and anticipation, you obeyed, positioning yourself as instructed. Helion’s gaze followed you with a smirk, clearly enjoying the control he held over the situation. He turned his attention back to Tarquin, who was still kneeling on the floor before him, a hungry look in his eyes as he waited for Helion’s direction.

“Since you seem to have forgotten your manners, (y/n),” Helion said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and authority, “I think it’s only fair you watch us have our fun. After all, you’ve had your moment of pleasure.”

Your eyes widened as you took in his words, and again when he leaned closer to Tarquin, their faces almost touching as they shared a private moment of wickedly seductive conversation. Tarquin’s eyes were locked onto Helion’s, his expression one of fierce desire.

You could only watch, your frustration mingling with undeniable arousal, as Helion and Tarquin engaged in a mesmerizing display of passion and power. Each touch, each kiss, each groan of pleasure, was a reminder of what you were missing out on, and the sight of them together only heightened your longing for what you were being denied.

Helion’s eyes met yours briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Enjoy the show,” he said softly, his voice carrying a promise of more to come. “And remember, this is what happens when you don’t play by the rules.”

You pulled your skirt back down, the soft fabric smoothing against your thighs as you adjusted it nervously. The urge to leave was strong—one part of you screamed to escape this tantalizing torment. But as you remained in place, your gaze was magnetically drawn back to them, to Tarquin now climbing into Helion’s lap. The way their bodies moved together was mesmerizing.

Helion's dark eyes glittered with a blend of satisfaction and challenge as he pulled Tarquin closer, their bodies pressing together in a heated embrace. His fingers tangled in Tarquin’s hair, guiding their kisses with a possessive hunger. But Tarquin’s expression remained fierce, his grip on Helion’s hips assertive and unyielding. Despite Helion’s commanding presence, Tarquin's actions spoke of his own dominance, a constant push and pull of control.

Tarquin’s hands roamed over Helion’s body with a possessive edge. His fingers dug into Helion’s sides, pulling him closer, while his lips left a trail of heated kisses that spoke volumes about his own claims and desires. He was relentless, his movements calculated, his strength palpable. Even as Helion leaned into the pleasure, he met Tarquin’s intensity with a smirk, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. The physical clash between them was electric. Tarquin’s lithe but muscular frame contrasted with Helion’s broader build, their bodies weaving together in a dance of dominance and resistance. Helion's laughter was low, a sound of both approval and defiance, as Tarquin’s hands explored every inch of his body, making it clear that while Helion might lead, Tarquin was more than willing to fight for his share of control.

The breeze made their hair flutter, intertwining like threads of dark and light silk, adding to the primal beauty of their struggle for dominance. Tarquin’s fingers gripped Helion’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze as their breaths mingled. “You think you can control everything?” Tarquin murmured, his voice a dangerous mix of challenge and desire. “Prove it.”

Helion's smirk never wavered as he met the challenge head-on, his hands pushing back with equal fervor. “Always up for a challenge,” he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. 

As you watched, your thoughts wandered briefly. The intensity of their interaction made you wonder if you could ever convince Cassian to explore something like this. The idea was fleeting, a mere whisper in your mind, but the image of Cassian in a similar dance of power and desire with another man stirred something deep within you.

Helion's gaze met yours. "Look at you, so eager and yet so helpless," he said, his voice soft but laced with an edge of mockery. "You’ve got quite the view, don’t you? It’s a shame you can’t join in, but maybe that’s just the lesson you needed."

Tarquin chuckled softly, his hands still roaming over muscled planes as he looked back at you. "But don’t worry, we won’t forget about you," he said, his tone slightly softer, though still carrying a teasing note. "We’ll give you a chance to be good again—just as soon as we’ve had our fun."

Their bodies moved together with a seamless rhythm, each touch and thrust a testament to their shared control. Helion’s hands roamed confidently over Tarquin’s chest, tracing the contours of his muscles with a possessive touch. Tarquin responded with equal fervor, his own hands sliding over Helion’s back, pulling him closer as their hips ground together in a slow, deliberate dance.

The intensity of their connection was palpable. Helion’s lips found Tarquin’s neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin with a teasing bite. Tarquin’s breathing hitched, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. They moved in unison, their bodies pressing together with dominance and intimacy. Without breaking their rhythm, Tarquin’s hands slipped down to his pants, deftly undoing them with practiced ease. He pulled out his cock, the sight of it making your eyes darken with lust. Helion, never missing a beat, did the same, exposing his own hardened length.

Tarquin wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, his grip firm and purposeful. He guided their movements, the friction of his hand creating a rhythm that was both intense and exhilarating. Helion moaned softly against his skin, his fingers digging into Tarquin’s shoulders as he matched the rhythm, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

As their pleasure mounted, the focus shifted entirely between them, the external world fading away. Helion’s breath grew ragged, his hands gripping Tarquin’s hips with a desperate intensity. “Fuck,” Helion growled, his voice a rough whisper against the other’s ear. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

Tarquin’s response was a deep, throaty moan, his hand still moving between them, guiding their rhythm. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. “You know how much I love it when you’re like this. So intense, so fucking demanding.”

Helion’s eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in the sensation, his hips driving harder against Tarquin’s hand. “Seeing you like this, giving it all to me…” he breathed, his voice a low rumble.

Tarquin’s grip tightened, a primal growl escaping him as he pushed into Helion with renewed vigor. “And you’re not the only one getting a show,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Imagine how she’s watching us. She’s so fucking desperate, watching every move we make. And here we are, just enjoying each other, giving her a taste of what she can’t have.” The intensity between them grew, their bodies moving in a fevered dance of lust and dominance. Each kiss, each touch, was a testament to their mutual craving, their voices blending in a symphony of pleasure.

Helion’s climax hit with a shuddering breath, his head falling back as he released into Tarquin’s waiting hand, cupping over them to stop the mess. The muscles in his body tensed, his grip on Tarquin’s shoulders tightening as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

Tarquin, still grinding against him, smirked as he felt Helion’s release spill over his fingers. He made a move to take himself over the edge, but Helion’s hand was suddenly on his chest, firm and commanding. “No,” Helion murmured, his voice breathless but authoritative.

With a frustrated growl that went straight to your already throbbing cunt, Tarquin collected the remnants of release. His gaze flicked to Helion, who leaned in close, whispering something into his ear. Whatever he said made Tarquin’s eyes light up with dark amusement, and a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.

Without a word, Tarquin stood and walked over to where you sat, still bound by the torment of watching them together. “Open up,” he commanded, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument. Your eyes widened at the implication, but you obeyed, parting your lips.

Tarquin’s smile grew as he brought his hand closer to your mouth, but instead of what you expected, he reached for your discarded underwear. His eyes locked onto yours as he used the delicate fabric to clean his hand. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he shoved the now-damp underwear back into your mouth. “There,” he murmured, his voice low and mocking. “Hold on to that for us.”

Helion’s dark eyes traced the line of your body, his gaze intense as he watched you struggle with the fabric stuffed back into your mouth. He let the tension build for a moment before speaking, his voice low and smooth. “Are you ready to be good now?” he asked, the question laced with a promise that made your heart race.

You nodded eagerly, desperate to end the torment, your desire to please them both outweighing your earlier defiance. But Tarquin wasn’t about to let you off that easily. His hand gently tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his eyes. “Use your words,” he said, his tone teasing but firm.

You tried to speak, but the underwear stuffed in your mouth muffled your response, turning your “Yes” into a barely intelligible sound. Tarquin’s lips curved into a sly smile, clearly amused by your predicament. “What was that?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Helion chuckled softly from behind him as he walked over to you both, his amusement at the situation clear. “I think she’s ready,” he mused, his hand resting on Tarquin’s waist with a glint of anticipation in his eyes.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as they slowly exposed your skin to the night air, each touch sending sparks of desire through your body, their dominance palpable in every move they made. Tarquin’s lips ghosted over your breasts after he pulled the fabric of your flimsy little top underneath them, and Helion’s fingers toyed with your bare cunt when he hiked your skirt back up over your hips.

As their hands roamed over your body, a desperate yearning welled up inside you. The desire to kiss them, to taste their lips and share in their passion, was overwhelming. But the underwear stuffed in your mouth was a reminder of your place in this moment; you were to take what they gave you.

It was humiliating, the way they had taken away your ability to speak, to kiss, to express the longing that burned inside you. Yet, at the same time, it was intoxicating. The taste of Helion's cum on the fabric only heightened your arousal. You had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so deeply connected to the heat of the moment. You wanted more—more of their touch, more of their dominance, and more of the delicious torment they were inflicting upon you. Your body trembled with the need to kiss them, to show them how much you wanted to please them, but all you could do was whimper softly, your gaze pleading for mercy.

Helion’s fingers slid away from your cunt, leaving you achingly empty, but not for long. He exchanged a brief, heated glance with Tarquin, a silent agreement passing between them. Helion’s hands were firm as he guided you onto all fours, positioning you just where they wanted. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a small, foil packet. Even in the midst of your desperation, you shot him a pointed look as you let the soaked fabric fall from your lips.

“Are you kidding me? You’re such a guy,” you said, “no way you carry a condom in your wallet.”

Helion’s lips curved into a smirk as he tore open the packet. “Always prepared,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint, would I?”

Tarquin chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to your front, his fingers trailing up your spine. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, even now. Let’s see if we can put it to better use.”

As Helion rolled the condom on, Tarquin gently coaxed your head down, guiding you to take him into your mouth. The feeling of his hard length against your lips sent a thrill through you, and as you obediently opened up for him, you felt Helion’s hands spreading your thighs wider.

The anticipation built to a fever pitch as Helion positioned himself at your entrance, his cock pressing against your slick heat. As Tarquin’s cock slid past your lips, filling your mouth completely, the dual sensation of being taken from both ends sent a shiver of pleasure through your body. Their dominance was overwhelming, making every nerve in your body hum with a primal need.

As Helion slowly slid into you, the stretch and fullness made your breath hitch, every inch a reminder of how long you had waited for this moment. “You waited so patiently for us,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Watching us, being such a good girl… you deserve this.”

Tarquin’s fingers threaded through your hair, gently guiding your movements as you took him deeper into your mouth. “Sitting so pretty, waiting for your turn,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of affection and amusement. “Loved seeing you watch us… so eager, so desperate to join in.”

Tarquin’s grip on your hair tightened slightly, holding you still as Helion leaned in closer. “We’re not going to fuck you yet,” Helion murmured, his voice teasingly soft. “If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it.”

The words sent a jolt through you, a mix of frustration and anticipation. They held you in place, their bodies perfectly still, forcing you to take the lead. Slowly, you began to move, rocking your hips back against Helion and taking Tarquin deeper into your mouth. Every motion was deliberate, each shift of your body a silent plea for more. Their eyes were locked on you, watching with dark satisfaction as you worked for every bit of pleasure, proving just how much you craved them.

As you picked up the pace, your movements became more urgent. You could feel the heat building inside you, the rhythm of your hips matching the rhythm of your mouth working around Tarquin’s cock. Each time you emptied your mouth of Tarquin, you rocked back onto Helion, the sensation of being filled made your body shudder with pleasure.

Helion's breathy, approving moans mingled with Tarquin's low growls of satisfaction. “Look at you, taking us so well,” Helion’s voice was thick with desire, his hand gripping your hip to guide your movements. “Such a good little slut, working hard for our pleasure.”

Their praise was as pleasure-inducing as the physical sensations, each comment driving you to push harder, to take more. You hollowed your cheeks around Tarquin’s cock, drawing him deeper into your throat as you squeezed the muscles in your cunt, tightening around Helion. The moment you tightened around them, they both reacted instinctively, their bodies moving with a newfound intensity. Tarquin’s eyes widened with approval, his grip on your hair tightening as he thrust into your mouth, while Helion’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling you down onto him with a fierce, commanding rhythm. Helion’s thrusts were hard and relentless, each motion sending waves of pleasure through you, while Tarquin’s movements became more aggressive, pushing deeper into your mouth with each stroke. The forceful rhythm of their fucking matched the desperate speed of your movements, each thrust and grind creating a symphony of pleasure and raw need.

Their groans of pleasure filled the room, mingling with your muffled cries of ecstasy. You could feel every powerful thrust, every commanding grip, as they took you with wild abandon. The sensation of being used by both men at once left you trembling and gasping for breath between their merciless, demanding movements. 

“That’s it,” Tarquin growled primally, his voice filled with raw desire. “Look at you, working so hard for us. You’re our pretty cocksleeve, taking both of us so well.”

Helion’s breathy, approving moans punctuated the air as he watched you. “Feel how she’s squeezing around you? She’s not just taking it; she’s giving us everything she’s got.” His hand gripped your hip, giving him purchase for his unrelenting pace. “She’s our perfect plaything, proving herself with every thrust. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Tell us how good it feels,” Tarquin urged, his voice a mix of dominance and genuine curiosity. “Let us hear it, tell us with my cock stuffed in this sweet little mouth. We want to know just how much you crave this.” Your rise in volume and the increased frequency of your gasps and moans reflected your enthusiasm — answer enough.

Helion’s gaze remained locked on you, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re making us so proud,” he said softly, gruffly. “Just a little more, and we’ll give you everything you’ve been begging for. You’re so close, just keep going.”

Tarquin’s fingers tangled further in your hair, his grip tightening as he watched you struggle and delight in the dual pleasure. “We’re not stopping until you’re dripping with pleasure, sweetheart,” he growled, his tone promising both pleasure and punishment. “We want to see you come undone, completely ours. No one else’s.”

He knew what he was doing with the utterance of those words.

Completely ours.

No one else’s.

Fuck.

You continued to rock back and forth between them, driven not only by the intensity of their praise and the sensations but also by the reminder of what was going on downstairs — of who you came with. 

Helion’s voice was a low, satisfied growl. “She’s taking it so well,” he said, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s like she was made for this. Isn’t she the best little fuck toy we’ve ever had?”

Tarquin’s lips suddenly found Helion’s in a heated kiss, their mouths clashing in a fervent embrace. The sound of them kissing while they both took pleasure from you was almost more than you could handle. Their tongues tangled and teeth scraped together, the kiss fierce and passionate, mirroring the raw intensity of the moment.

The mingling of their mouths, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm with yours, only heightened the heat coursing through you. You could feel the vibrations of their moans, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Helion’s hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to meet his thrusts, while Tarquin held your head in place, his cock filling your mouth to the hilt. The way they devoured each other, while simultaneously taking you, made every nerve in your body stand on edge.

Gasping for breath, you managed to pull off Tarquin’s cock for a moment, desperate to voice your need. “Please, hurry,” you moaned, your voice thick with urgency. “I need to get back—”

“No,” Tarquin responded, his voice a dark growl as he pulled you back down onto his cock. “We’re going to go at the pace we want. You’ll just have to keep up.”

Helion, still thrusting into you with measured force, chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against Tarquin’s as they kissed. “But we wouldn’t want to arouse any suspicion, would we?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “If we’re gone for much longer, we might draw unwanted attention.”

Their kiss deepened, and their pace remained deliberate, every thrust and movement calculated. When Helion broke the kiss, his eyes glinted mischievously, his lips brushing against Tarquin’s ear as he addressed you. “Make him feel so good, sweetheart,” Helion commanded softly, his voice like velvet. “But remember, he’s not allowed to come yet. Don’t let him.”

You felt the tension in Tarquin’s body, the way his muscles tightened as you worked him with all the skill you could muster, knowing exactly how close he was. 

Helion's gaze never wavered from Tarquin as he continued to thrust into you, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You love this, don’t you, Tarquin? Feeling her warm mouth wrapped around you, so eager to please.” His hand slid down Tarquin’s chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. “But you’re going to hold on, aren’t you? No matter how good she makes you feel.”

Tarquin’s breath hitched, his grip on your hair tightening as he struggled to maintain control. Helion smirked, his words a delicious torment. “I bet you’re aching to let go, to fill her up, but you can’t. Not with your slip-up earlier.”

Tarquin’s growl was low and commanding, his voice steady despite the strain. “I’m not giving in that easily,” he muttered, his grip on your hair firm as he thrust deeper into your mouth. “I can hold out as long as I need to.”

Helion’s smirk widened, his gaze locked on Tarquin’s as he continued to thrust into you with calculated precision. “I don’t doubt your endurance, Tarquin,” he teased, his voice a seductive purr. “But with her working you so well, how long can you really last?”

Tarquin’s breath hitched, but he kept his control, his voice rough but steady. “I’m not losing it,” he insisted, though there was a hint of tension in his tone. “I can take whatever you make her give me.”

Helion chuckled softly, his breath warm against Tarquin’s skin. “You’re trembling, Tarquin,” he murmured with dark satisfaction. You moaned around his cock at the sound of that, bobbing your head fiercely. 

Tarquin’s control was fraying, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. “Helion…” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Fuck, I’m… I can’t—”

Helion silenced him with a deep, demanding kiss, his tongue teasing Tarquin’s as he continued to thrust into you. “Yes, you can,” he whispered against Tarquin’s lips. “And you will, because I want you to.”

Tarquin’s resolve finally broke, a deep, desperate groan escaping him as he thrust into your mouth with barely controlled force. “Please, Helion,” he rasped, the dominance in his tone now edged with raw need. “I can’t hold on much longer... just let me finish. I need it.”

Helion pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he considered Tarquin’s plea. “Oh, Tarquin,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Maybe I’m feeling a little generous tonight. But if you want to finish, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Tarquin’s breath caught, his eyes narrowing as he tried to regain some semblance of control. “What... what do you want?” You didn’t stop pleasuring him, pulling his pants down just a bit more to fondle his balls. 

Helion’s smile was all dark promise as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Tarquin’s ear. “Tell her,” he whispered, his voice a velvety command. “Tell her all the things you’ve thought about doing to her. All those times you’ve imagined fucking her. Like when we took that beach trip a few months ago, and you watched her tanning with Morrigan.”

Tarquin’s gaze flicked to you, the tension between his desire and his pride visible in the clench of his jaw. But Helion’s hold on him was too strong, the command too irresistible.

“I...” Tarquin began, his voice hoarse as he struggled to find the words. “That day... when you were lying there, skin all golden and glistening... I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck you right there on the sand. With everyone watching, knowing you were mine, watching me make you mine.”

Helion hummed in approval, his hand sliding lower on Tarquin’s chest, teasing the sensitive skin just above his waistband. “Good,” he purred. “Now tell her more. When else did you want her?”

Tarquin’s grip on your hair tightened as his memories flowed freely, the desperation in his voice mingling with the intensity of his confession. “Last New Year’s Eve, the party at Rhysand’s, when you wore that little black dress... I couldn’t stop imagining ripping it off you and bending you over the nearest table. Just taking you in front of everyone, making you scream my name.”

“Go on.”

“In the locker room,” he began, his breath hitching as he spoke, his words mixing with whines. “Cassian sent you in to grab his skates off the top shelf. You were wearing that little sundress… the one that rode up just enough when you reached for them. I was ready to take you right there, but then Eris got to you first.”

You remembered that day, remembered it well. The way Eris had slid up behind you, his hand low on your hip, grinding his hips into yours as he reached for the skates. You had loved the feeling of him pressing into you, shirtless with a pair of jeans that hugged his thighs just right, the heat of his body against yours making your breath catch.

“When Az and I were at your place with Cassian, just a few days ago…” Tarquin’s voice was ragged, almost trembling. “You came out of the bedroom in nothing but his t-shirt, no bra—fuck, I could see your nipples through the fabric. You were just after a snack, barely even saw us sitting there, and when you did, your face went all red. All I could think about was making some excuse to follow you back into that room, just taking you right there. I was hanging on by a thread, trying so damn hard not to lose it.”

Then Helion smirked, the corner of his lips curling up as he watched Tarquin’s desperation. "You’ve been a good boy, Tarquin," Helion purred, his voice thick with amusement and satisfaction. "Go ahead, let go. You've earned it."

As Helion’s permission washed over him, Tarquin’s breath caught, and he looked at you with a blend of tenderness and raw need. His voice softened, even as he was on the brink. “Is it okay if I shove my cock all the way down your throat? Hm? Come inside you?” he asked softly, his voice a beautiful blend of filthy and tender.

His eyes never left yours, and the desperation in his voice became more pronounced. “I can’t hold back much longer,” he groaned, his voice breaking with the intensity of his need. “I want to bury myself in your throat, fill you up completely. Feel you swallow all of me. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

His grip on your hair tightened, and his eyes closed for a moment as he fought to reach his peak. “Please,” he pleaded, his voice growing more urgent, “let me come inside you. I need to feel your throat squeeze around me, need to know you��re taking every bit. I’m so close… can’t you feel how much I want it?”

Distantly, you heard Helion let out a long groan of pleasure, slamming into you a few more times before coming to a stop, his heavy breaths lost among Tarquin’s and your moans. 

Tarquin’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to hold on, his voice now a raw, desperate plea. “I’m so close,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he neared the edge. “Fuck, I need to come… inside you.”

With a final, strained cry, he shoved himself into your throat to the hilt and held you there. Tarquin’s grip on your hair became painful, his entire body shuddering with the force of his release. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth as he erupted, shooting his hot cum deep down your throat. His moans were of relief and unrestrained pleasure, his desperation giving way to intense, blissful satisfaction.

His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with spent tenderness. “Swallow it all… feel it,” he murmured, still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a look of spent but tender satisfaction. “You were incredible,” he added softly, his voice thick with gratitude and lingering need.

As Tarquin’s body finally relaxed, his breath coming in deep, shuddering sighs, Helion leaned in close, his voice soft but filled with genuine warmth. “A perfect girl, weren’t you,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “You’ve taken care of us so well.”

He glanced over at Tarquin with a relaxed grin. “And you weren’t too bad yourself,” he added with a chuckle.

Tarquin, still catching his breath, gave a tired but genuine smile. “Glad you think so,” he said, his voice rough but content.

You, however, were already moving with a sense of urgency. After pulling yourself off both of them, your hands deftly fixed your clothes, your phone in hand as you used its camera as a makeshift mirror to touch up your makeup. You glanced at both of them with a mix of guilt and impatience as they tucked themselves back into their pants, and you let out a quick, apologetic sigh. 

“I have to go,” you said, your voice brisk but apologetic. “We all need to get back.” You smoothed down your hair, your eyes darting between the two men as you adjusted your appearance. “Sorry…”

Helion gave a small nod, his eyes understanding. “We’ll head out with you. No worries.”

With a final glance to make sure you were presentable (and Tarquin wiping something warm off of your neck and licking his thumb clean, and Helion having done God-knows-what with the condom), you led the way, the three of you moving quickly and quietly.

As you re-entered the club, the pulsating music and vibrant lights greeted you. Just as you made your way back to the booth, a voice called out from the crowd.

“Hey, where have you guys been?” It was Elain, her eyes wide with concern and curiosity.

You forced a small, apologetic smile. “I was feeling a bit sick earlier,” you explained. “They were just helping me get some fresh air.”

Elain nodded understandingly, her gaze softening as she took in your appearance. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay, you do seem a bit shaken up.”

More than a bit…

“Let’s get you back to the booth, get you a water.” The four of you headed back to the booth, and Cassian was just as you’d left him, still engaged in conversation with Eris. As you approached, Cassian’s face lit up with a grin, though there was a hint of playful teasing in his eyes.

“Look who finally decided to come back,” Cassian said as you slipped back into the booth beside him, his tone light but affectionate. “Were you having such a good time dancing with Helion that you don’t want to dance with me anymore?”

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, his playful tone contrasting sharply with all that’d happened. You moved closer to him, your heart aching as you took in his familiar, warm presence.

“Not at all,” you spoke softly, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry for being gone so long. I missed you.”

Cassian’s expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “I missed you too,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and sincere. He sounded stone-cold sober, how long had you been gone?

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his embrace, and you realized just how much you betrayed his trust, how much this would kill him. The guilt gnawed at you, a viper coiled tightly around your conscience, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. 

Cassian pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a gentle smile. “Let’s dance,” he said softly. “I want to make up for lost time.” He gently nudged you back out of the booth, his gaze softening as he looked at you, fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “I’ve missed my perfect girl.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body tensed, a wave of guilt crashing over you so intensely that you had to force yourself to keep breathing. For a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, your mind flashing back to just minutes ago when Helion had whispered those exact words in your ear, his voice thick with lust.

Cassian noticed the slight hesitation, his brows knitting together in concern. “Hey,” he said, his tone softening even more, “you okay?”

You quickly forced a smile, willing the tension out of your body as you nodded. “Yeah,” you lied, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

His thumb stroked your cheek, his eyes filled with nothing but warmth and affection. “We can take it easy,” he offered, his concern evident. “Or we can just stay here and relax, whatever you want.”

But the thought of staying there, trapped in the booth with the weight of your betrayal pressing down on you, was unbearable. You shook your head, forcing a more genuine smile this time. “No, I want to dance,” you insisted, taking his hand and guiding him to the dance floor. “Let’s go.” But even as you both reached the middle of the floor and he pulled you flush against him, feeling his familiar warmth and the steady beat of the music around you, the words “perfect girl” echoed in your mind. 

The heat between you is immediate, electric. Cassian’s hands find your hips, guiding you as you start to move together, your bodies syncing effortlessly to the rhythm. His thigh slips between your legs, and you can’t help but grind against him, feeling the solid strength of his muscles beneath you.

His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in, voice low and teasing. “You feel so good, baby. Just how I like you.” His hands roam up and down your sides, fingers brushing the hem of your miniskirt, his touch making you shiver with anticipation.

As the beat picks up, Cassian’s grip tightens, his fingers edging further up your skirt. The movement is subtle, but it’s enough to make your breath catch. His dark eyes are locked on yours, filled with a hunger that sends a thrill through you.

He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “What’s this? No panties tonight?” His voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a rough edge to it that makes your heart race.

Your eyes widen slightly, and for a split second, you freeze, your mind flashing back to the rooftop. But you recover quickly, giving him a sultry smile as you tilt your head up to look at him.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

[aziraphales-library]

Not entirely sure how this works, but if NSFW asking is allowed, are there any where Nanny Ashtoreth is invoked and she has a penis? I’m not attracted to women, but I find Nanny Ashtoreth so gorgeous…

thank you!!!

Here are some fics in which Nanny Ashtoreth has a penis...

Numeric Basics With Nanny by FacetiousKitten (E)

"Nanny can do anything." Nanny ties Aziraphale to the bed and then edges him to oblivion.

What Nanny Says, Goes by snae_b (E)

“Don't worry, love. I'm going to take care of you." She leans in and places a gentle kiss on one knee. "I'm going to make you come until you forget your name and then you’ll beg for one more.” Aziraphale and Nanny Ashtoreth play a little game.

Be My Trellis by malachitegrey (M)

“Where’re you, angel?” Nanny called into the darkness. Brother Francis popped up from behind the stone wall. “Here, my dear.” He wasn’t wearing his slouchy hat thing, but the breeze that might have ruffled his curls was stopped. The world was still and quiet, except for the two of them. “Up for an adventure?” Nanny said, grinning, and Brother Francis smiled wickedly back.

Calling All Girls by HipHopAnonymous (E)

Years after Aziraphale gifts the holy water to Crowley and subsequently refuses his proposition, Crowley distracts himself by creating the persona 'Nanny Ashtoreth' who works as a dominatrix call girl - a shockingly easy way to temp souls for Hell. Nanny didn't expect for Aziraphale, who has also changed her corporation, to find and confrtont her, but is pleasantly surprised and more than willing to partake in a little fun. It's Valentine's Day, after all!

Perfectly Punished In Every Way by SparkleInTheStars (E)

After a romantic escape with Crowley at Valentines, Aziraphale must return to the Dowlings with Nanny. While riding in the Bentley, Aziraphale makes a mess with a box of chocolates. Then he compounds the problem with a lie and talking back to Nanny. Nanny pulls to the side of the road to discipline her naughty angel.

i'm coming apart at the seams by HazelSage (E)

Bathroom “out of commission” for the moment, Aziraphale surprises Nanny Ashtoreth in her own so they can both prepare for a day at the Dowling house. If only Aziraphale had known that Nanny prepares for the day in lingerie and is easily tempted by an angel in a bordering on translucent dressing gown.

- Mod D

[luveline]

for early eddie and roanie!! maybe eddie and roan sees you in your work get up for the first time and they’re just in awe and think you’re so pretty!

ty for requesting ♡ eddie and roan —eddie and his daughter meet you for dinner after work and find themselves surprised at your attire. fem!reader

"Dad, what–" Roan stammers, smart but young enough to struggle anymore, "what are we doing, um, here?" 

Eddie puts the car in park. "We're having dinner in a restaurant! How fun, right?" 

"Right. We're not going home?" 

Eddie gets out of the car and takes a breather. It's weird for them to go somewhere after daycare that isn't home or the grocery store, he can understand her confusion. He's nervous about it himself, and he could really do without more sweating. Right now is the only time you could see him for the next couple of days (a friend's birthday, a hair appointment, a work commitment you couldn't squeeze out of), so despite his bedraggled appearance and Roan's stained dress, he's here. 

Eddie opens Roan's door. "Well, Y/N's busy for a couple of days, but she still wanted to see us," he says, unclicking Roan's car seat. He lifts her out and sets her on the asphalt of the parking lot. "So we have to do it right now. She squeezed us in." 

"Oh…" 

Eddie crouches down in front of her to smoothe the hair from her face. Careful, he brushes kinks and coils behind her ears, hands dancing down to her shoulders, her arms. He dusts her off. "Let me get your cardigan from the trunk. It's cold, huh?" 

"Shivers!" she says. 

"No, not shivers!" Eddie guides her away from the door to close it. Roan takes his hand without being asked, following him to the trunk. "Here, babe, let's get this on and then we'll go inside. We should have a little bit of time before Y/N comes." You're cutting out of work early. 

Eddie worries you'll get a good look at him all grease-covered and clammy and turn straight back around, but this is exactly as he looked when you asked him out the first time, and despite being busy you were insistent on seeing him. Good signs. Plus, you've seen him dressed up, so maybe you could just superimpose that image of him onto his frizz. 

Eddie makes sure Roan is buttoned up warm before offering his arms. "Want me to carry you? I know you've had a long day, haven't you?" Roan wraps her arms around his neck and he stands, lifting her against his chest. She calms him down whenever he's nervous, resting her cheek on his. "Okie dokie, let's go inside."

"Kiss?" Roan asks. 

Eddie kisses her chubby cheek. "Kiss," he says, the wool of her cardie soft under his hand. 

He rushes into the restaurant to get her out of the cold, rubbing her back in a pointless mission to keep her as warm as possible. It's a small restaurant inside of an Inn, dark wood and carpeting lit by butter yellow sconces. It's nice but not fancy, a family place you chose without any input from him. He's always pleasantly surprised by how willing you are to have Roan join you —this wouldn't work if you weren't, but some people wouldn't be as accepting of it as you are. He thinks he's pretty lucky. 

Luckier still when he sees you already waiting at the little podium. You're distracted by something in your pocket, looking up at the sound of the door closing. "Hi, Munsons!" you say, big sweet smile on your face. 

"What are you wearing?" Roan asks. 

You give a startled laugh. "This is what I have to wear at my stupid job. Do I look silly?" 

"You look beautiful," Eddie says. 

He means it more than anything. He's used to seeing you in nice skirts with a little chain necklace on. And that's perfect, you always look like the sweetest thing god ever let near him, but this is a different kettle of fish completely. You look— 

"So pretty!" Roan says, clapping her hands together. 

You visibly fluster at the double compliments. "I have to wear this stuff to seem professional. I always feel like I'm playing dress up." 

"Are you kidding?" Eddie asks. "You always look great, this is… you look stellar. I mean." He shakes his head with feigned disapproval. "They let you walk around like that?"

You bring your hands to your cheeks.

"I'm kinda embarrassed, we look like a mess compared to you," Eddie says, shifting Roan in his arms sheepishly, his shoulders hiking. 

"What are you talking about? You guys look nice! And they know it's after working hours anyways, you don't have to be perfect. Just hungry. What do you want, princess? They have a buffet, does that sound nice? We can have unlimited mac and cheese." 

Roan's stomach gives a gurgle right on schedule. She nods emphatically. 

You nod back, the buzz of their compliments here to stay as you step up to the podium. "I have reservations for three, under L/N?" you sound infectiously pleased. 

Eddie dips his head down to Roan's ear. "Thank you for being so nice, babe. I think you made Y/N really happy." 

"Can I have clothes like that?" Roan asks. 

Eddie chuckles, picturing Roan in a button up shirt with a stiff collar and slacks, smart black kitten heels to match. "Maybe when you're older. I don't think you'd find it comfy enough." 

"It's actually not too bad," you say, as the three of you follow a hostess down a gentle gradient into the restaurant. 

Eddie shakes his head behind Roan's. You catch his plea, coughing suddenly. "I mean, the heels make my toes cry and I can't do any running or dancing in my pants, but you get used to it, Ro."

Roan lifts her lips to Eddie's ear. "I like dancing," she whispers. 

Eddie pats her back. "I know. Let's stick to comfy clothes for now, okay?" 

"Okie dokie. Why don't you wear stuff like that to work, dad?" 

"It's hard to explain." 

"You don't want to look nice?" 

Eddie sighs as you laugh behind your hand. "It's dirty work, bub, I don't know what to tell you." 

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Bonus Chapter: Nanami Kento

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe. (or, for this chapter, Nanami's favorite moments with you)

wordcount : 2.3k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic Nanami Kento x reader for this one

Masterlist | Next

2016, Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe 

" Okay, so because the two of you have been a pain in everyone's ass- Here's Nanami Kento! Jujutsu Tech's ex-salary man!"

Gojo Satoru is much too excited as he introduces you and Sukuna to the blonde, who's raising a brow in question.

" Please don't introduce me like that. Also, they look young. Are they even students yet?"

" We may be young, but I promise you I can beat your ass."

Nanami blinks at 14 year old Sukuna. You grin from beside him.

Nanami blinks at you too.

" They're a little younger indeed, they'll be students here in 2 years. "

Gojo is still much too excited about the whole deal. Sending two fourteen year olds along with him on missions doesn't sound like a good idea.

" No. They'll just be in the way."

From the corner of Nanami's eye, he can see you pout, cocking your head.

" Well, either they go with you or they go with me. The higher ups ordered it, and there's no one else I trust with them." 

Nanami raises a brow.

" Why would the higher ups order this?"

Both Sukuna and you are listening in on their conversation, and neither Gojo nor Nanami miss that.

However, just to their luck-

" Ah, Sukuna. Back here to get your ass beat?"

The teen snorts as he turns around, a smirk on his face as he smirks at Maki.

" You wish! I've been practicing. I'm sure I've gotten stronger!"

And just like that, Sukuna is tugging you along, away from the two adults who are very grateful for this coincidental moment.

" They want Y/N dead. They don't really care about Sukuna, but the two of them stick together like glue. "

Nanami glances at Gojo in surprise.

" Why? They're only children."

" Exactly. They're weak now. Easy to kill. Y/N's cursed technique renders the Kamo clan's immobile. They're powerless against her. Of course, they don't accept that. "

" I thought Y/N is from the Kamo clan?"

" She is. Hence why the higher ups are send onto them instead of any of the Kamo members. They're afraid of her parents."

Nanami nods.

He vividly remembers your mother, and has only heard rumors about your father. Not two people you want to be up against, not two people who'll allow you to get away if you'd murder their child.

Nanami thinks about it for a moment, before sighing.

" How often would I need to take them with me?"

" Once or twice a week for the summer break. They'll spend the rest of their time with Maki, Panda, the Jujutsu Tech staff members, Nitta and Ijichi."

Nanami nods.

" Alright. I'll find time. They will not be going on missions though."

-

Nanami finds himself pleasantly surprised. You're a pleasant kid to be around, mature enough to understand obvious choices. Sukuna is sadly not. The teenager is rude, annoying, and tends to only listen once he's beat up. Very annoying. Thankfully, you seem to cancel out his annoying attitude pleasantly, making your time together less of a forced hassle and much more pleasant.

Unexpectedly, he had found himself growing closer with you especially. He learned how to work with Sukuna. Now it never went as smoothly as it was when talking to you, but it was nice nonetheless.

Today is one of those very, very rare days. One he willingly chooses to spend with his colleagues.

" Turn right here."

Ijichi does as he says.

In the backseat, your face is pressed to the window. Sukuna is sat beside you, playing some Dark Dome puzzle game on his phone. (Idk if u ever did but I promise their games are awesome and fun.)

Beside him is none other than Satoru Gojo. For some reason, he has invited himself on this trip as well. Nanami figures that this must be so he can slack off more than he usually does. And although Nanami disapproves, he does accept it. You especially seemed happy when Gojo announced he'd join on your trip, and for some silly reason, Nanami finds himself much more relaxed when you're around.

" So, where are we going again? Are we there yet?" 

It's Sukuna who's asking the question, eyes still on his mobile game.

Meanwhile you gasp, your eyes shining as you take in the sight in front of you.

" Nanami, is that the beach?!"

Now this seemed to catch Sukuna's attention. Finally, he saves his game and tucks his phone away, peeking over your shoulder. The two of you looking at your new surroundings with wide eyes.

Indeed, the car has driven into a dune like range, sand meddling with the road now.

Moments later, you're stepping out of the car, and you're jumping in excitement as you make your way to the ocean. Nanami is walking beside you, his jacket slung over his arm, his hands tucked in his pocket.

It's too cold to swim today, so he hadn't told you nor Sukuna nor anyone else to bring swimsuits. However, it was rare to have the time to actually come all the way here. He figured he might as well make use of it.

" The base of your cursed technique is water. I figured you'd like the ocean."

And you do. He can see it in the way your eyes twinkle, taking in the sight of you.

Behind the two of you, Sukuna and Gojo are fooling around, with Ijichi watching them with a smile. It's a relaxing, rare moment.

" I do! This feels great!" 

All Nanami can do is chuckle as you approach the ocean. 

You don't allow the cold water to deter you. You run straight into the water, allowing it to reach to your knees.

Sukuna chases after you, as exited as you are.

" Woah! The water is so cold- Doesn't it bother you?"

" No- Watch this!"

Focusing, you raise your palms, and soon enough, you're taking control of the water surrounding you.

Nanami is watching you with a fond smile, the breeze running through his hair as he breaths in the scent of the ocean.

" You've grown quite fond of them, haven't you? "

Nanami hums, not ashamed to admit that he has. Gojo grins at nothing in particular.

" Me too- Wait,what?" 

Gojo has peeled away part of his blindfold to look at where you're stood in the water, focusing on your surroundings.

Nanami raises a brow.

" Something wrong? "

" Y/N's cursed energy- It's changing-"

Both men watch with wide eyes as you create a water hose. You seem to have fun with it too. 

Sukuna, who seemingly has no fear of dying, is having fun too, completely swept up in the whirlwind of water.

Nanami face palms. He'll have to teach the two of you how to be less reckless together. For now however, he'll let you have this moment. 

-

Many hours later, you're sat on the grassy field of Jujutsu Tech, waiting for your parents. Sukuna is inside the building with Gojo and Ijichi, now sneezing and probably sick thanks to the cold temperature of the water.

" Thank you for bringing us there. It was beautiful. I never felt so... free."

You're smiling at him, all happy and content.

And like always, Nanami smiles back, feeling more relaxed with you than he does with most people.

" I love the ocean myself too. It was as much fun for me as it is for you." 

You grin at his words.

For a moment, a silence settles over the two of you. However, it's pleasant. Today was the last day of your summer break/Jujutsu Tech stay. After the weekend, you will be in your final year for middle school and he will go back to the routine he was used to before this summer.

" Y/N?"

You turn to him, humming.

" Yeah?"

" On the first day I watched over you and Sukuna, I told you that you didn't have the power required to be a sorcerer."

You hum, nodding.

" Yeah, I know..."

" I'd like to take that back-"

Originally, you had averted your gaze to look at the sky again, however, hearing his words, you turn back to him with wide eyes.

" -You're powerful. I truly underestimated you. You can make it. If you want to be a Jujutsu sorcerer, then you should pursue it."

Truth to be told, Nanami just knew you had the power to change things. Perhaps, if you followed Gojo a little bit, and learned what you needed to know, you'd be very well on your way.

You were meant for something great. He just knew it.

You smile at him, feeling proud you somehow managed to get a compliment like this one out of him.

" Thank you! Don't worry. I'll make sure you and so many others will have the chance to rest." 

Nanami smiles back at you in return.

-

4 months ago, Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe 

" Oh, Nanami, you're here!"

Nanami glances up from the newspaper he's reading, greeting you with a smile. Opposite him, Gojo gapes at him.

" So you do know how to smile!"

Nanami pointedly ignores him like he's been doing for the past ten minutes.

" Y/N, it's nice to see you again."

You grin at his words, nodding in agreement.

" It is! I thought I'd notice your cursed energy here. Are you busy?"

" Not yet. I still have some hours left until the meeting starts. "

" Cool. I've made a sourdough starter. Wanna make bread?" 

He raises a brow, not having expected that. Nonetheless, he gets up, putting the paper he had been reading to the side.

" Sure, I have time for that."

About 5 minutes later, Nanami finds himself stood in the dormitories' kitchen. He hasn't been here in a very long while.

The two of you are having fun setting the dough, measuring the ingredients to a recipe you found online and working together to make two buns of dough.

Nanami can't help but enjoy the moment. It's been a while since he made sourdough, and it's also been a while since he spent time with you. 

You're one of the rare students he doesn't mind spending his free time with. Your demeanor is calm enough around him, and you're not constantly filling his head with nonsense like Gojo.

Soon enough, two balls of dough are rising under a plastic bubble wrap and a hand towel.

The two of you are chatting away peacefully in the kitchen, waiting on the dough.

Suddenly, Yuuji pops his head in the kitchen, having smelled something from a distance.

" Y/N, what're you baking- Oh, Nanamin, you're here too?"

Of course, Yuuji knows that Nanami had looked over you a few years ago, and that you hung out from time to time together in a peaceful manner.

" Good afternoon, Itadori."

" We're making bread."

" What kind?"

" Sourdough- I put moonseeds on mine." 

Yuuji hums, before joining the two of you in the kitchen area, idly chatting away.

Truth to be told, Nanami is more fond of Yuuji than Sukuna. He's pleasant to be around, and a much better listener than his twin counterpart.

The last few hours are spent chatting away with both you and Yuuji, content to spend time together in the kitchen.

At the end of the day, Nanami leaves with a small loaf of bread in a plastic bag. Feeling content and happy in that rare way he rarely does.

-

Modern day, Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe 

" Fushiguro-"

Nanami Kento is taken by surprise as he notices the teenager, all bloodied up, like he just returned from a huge fight.

" Nanami-"

Fushiguro has to take a break from speaking, breathing in deeply. Either he rushed all the way here, or he's in pain.

" Fushiguro, go see Ieri, you loo-"

" No. I'm fine.- Y/N's not dead."

Nanami's eyes widen. He rushes the teenager to sit down, wanting to know more.

Although he's never admitted it out loud, he cares about you a lot. Not that he ever needed to admit it, everyone was already well aware of it.

Megumi sits down beside him, throwing the weapon he's holding on the table.

Sukuna's Inverted Spear of Heaven. A weapon the marked boy doesn't leave lying around.

Why did Megumi have it?

" Sukuna and I- We went looking for her. Instead, we found it. Some curse. It almost looks human- it's intelligent. It got Sukuna. I saw it from a distant. It uses some kind of golden ring to teleport them somewhere. My guess is very far away."

Nanami's taking in the information, surprised, but glad.

At least he knows you're alive. He'll be able to notify your parents and let them know. 

He will bring you and Sukuna back.

One thing however, he's sure of. Nothing will be able to kill you if you and Sukuna stick together.

" Fushiguro, we need to talk to Gojo."

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie. 

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie. 

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed. 

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera. 

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass. 

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me. 

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then. 

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of. 

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course. 

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes. 

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez. 

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal. 

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?” 

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know? 

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here. 

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.   

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

[seiya234]

*hits fantasy blunt* what if Henry grew up with Mabel and Dipper, that would be weird, right, anyway thank you to @soulsinshadow who inspired this and @marypsue who i'm pretty sure i texted about this once or thrice.

---------

The year after the Transcendence, Wendy’s dad got a call. Tyler had picked up the phone, gone pale, then turned to Wendy and said “Go get your Dad- now.”

Dad had never gotten in the habit of carrying a cell- the service in the forest was too spotty, even after all these years- so this meant Wendy had to get in the golf cart and start looking for him.

Tyler was still on the phone when they got back an hour later. He handed the phone to Dad without even a peck on the cheek.

Her father listened. Two minutes in he said, “Yes, of course, bring him here.” He looked at Tyler, who nodded. “Talk to my husband. He can handle the logistics.” Dad practically threw the phone at Tyler, then rushed outside. Wendy went to go follow, but Tyler gently grabbed her arm. “Honey, not right now.”

Outside, her father screamed out load, a roar that shook the windows of the house. Wendy turned to look outside the kitchen window just in time to watch her father uproot a twelve foot pine tree, throw it to  the side, before collapsing to the ground, deflated.

From behind her, finally off the phone, Tyler said. “I’ll take care of him Wendy.”

(left unspoken was ‘That isn’t your job anymore.’ Wendy appreciated it more than she ever could say.)

“Why don’t you get the spare room ready, if you please?”

“For how long?”

Tyler looked outside, at his heartbroken husband. “For good, I think.”

Two days later, Wendy’s cousin Henry came from the hospital to live with them.

It was a weird time, a limbo time.

There were two Stans now. Soos decided to leave town for a bit, to see the world and move in with Melody (though Wendy had a feeling they’d both be back). She figured out that while boys were fun to play with, really though, she liked girls. Tambry and Robbie were still going strong which she was pleasantly surprised about. She still worked at the Shack but the wind had gone out of Stan’s sails which meant the wind had gone out of the Shack’s sails and it all felt sad and diminished.

Above all, there was a Mabel and Dipper shaped hole in town. They should be in Gravity Falls- hell, even as someone as insensitive to all this weird magic shit as Wendy could feel the ache of the town, the loss sucking like a black hole.

But they would be back. She knew it.

And then there was Henry.

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

No one told her how Henry had ended up in the hospital, and Dad had actually pulled her aside to tell her not to ask. As someone who had been the deputy adult in the house for many years, Wendy was a little miffed at first to not know, but that died the day she met her cousin for the first time, all long limbs far too skinny, and hollow eyes and little round burns still healing.

(Years later, Wendy finally found out what Rita and Arnold had done, to send Henry to the hospital and them to jail.

She gave Dipper a snickers bar each, to make it look natural.)

----------

Henry was a Corduroy all right: red hair, freakishly tall, looked good in plaid.

He read. A lot. He was at the library every other day practically. It was summer vacation, but Wendy had a feeling Henry would do okay in school. He probably wouldn’t have a lot of friends, but neither would he get teased. He was surprisingly good at the house chores, slipping into dish and living room rotation seamlessly. Thankfully he wasn’t a weird fundie like Aunt Rita and Uncle Arnold- Kevin asked the first week if they needed to say grace, for Henry.

Very quietly, but very firmly, Henry said, “No.”

It was the first thing that he had said since he moved int. He proceeded to not say another word for the next eight days.

It was okay. Wendy could be patient, when she wanted to. As a child she would wait for hours, hands outstretched, until birds would finally land on her fingers and eat the seed cupped in her palms.

This was just basically a larger bird.

--------

He read. He helped Dad with the trees, even though it left him pale and shaking with exhaustion when he got back to the house. He took long walks in the woods by himself- sometimes as the mood took him because he would occasionally forget to put on his shoes before leaving. He began to speak, though still only a sentence or two- simple, polite, phrases, nothing more.

But she waited, and she waited, and final, one day as they were cleaning up after dinner, Wendy casually said, “You don’t have to go out with Dad, you know?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Out in the woods. I mean, Dad won’t say no to the help and you get a cut of the score but-“

“Wendy, I apologize for interrupting, but did you say that I get… a portion of your dad’s pay?”

She couldn’t help but start a bit. “Uh yeah? You’re out there helping, of course dad will throw you a bone. He doesn’t get paid until next week but I’m pretty sure you’ve earned at least a hundo-“

“Hundo?”

“… hundred or two hundred dollars.”

“Oh.” It was odd, for someone as big and tall as Henry, to have a voice so soft and quiet. “But… I don’t have to?”

“Nah.” Wendy was going to go on a bit more, but then she looked at Henry, looked at how pale he was.

Realized that he wasn’t shaking and sweating when he got home from lumberjacking because he was tired.

“No one is going to force you to do something you don’t want to do here, Henry,” she finally managed to say.

“The Bible says to honor thy mother and father.” Henry paused. “The brother of thy father I guess but the point still stands.”

“But do you still believe that? Like, really?”

He was deadly quiet. But finally he said, “No.”

Without warning, Henry got up and went outside- again without shoes.

But he began to talk more after that.

[crimeronan]

Oh, the great maker of trauma for the beans that are part of Princess Luz Au, heed my query and answer me:

Did Luz get any big bad evil guy energy or skill from being raised by the waste of space previously known as Belos?

I mean as we all know Luz is a precious bean, but I think she deserves to be a little evil towards bad people, like I assume that Hunter is already planning how to murder (or worse) Amity's parents, even if he isn't fully aware of it/is in denial that he is planning the horrors on the for making Amity, but I stay with me for a moment and imagine the verified cinnamon roll Luz Noceda Wittebane putting the fear of Titan into Odalia after learning that she abused Amity.

Also, her snapping out of it after Odalia faints out of fear (and pain), and panicking that she is just like below only for her parteners to be like, 'nooo~ it was hot normal and perfectly sane thing to do'.

this answer Might be disappointing in some ways, mainly: i don't Think luz would be physically violent with them without provocation, and i also don't think she's likely to lose emotional control around them. she'd want to be just as poised around amity's parents as she always was around belos and always is around the coven heads.

HOWEVER. as for the questions of "does luz know how to be scary" and "did she learn that from belos": UNEQUIVOCAL yes. to both.

i've been wanting to play with luz in this space with amity's parents for A While, actually, so. have a little fic :)

-

"Oh, Amity is my pride and joy," Odalia says, placing a hand over her heart. "I taught her everything she knows."

"Yes, I did get that impression." The Empress smiles, rising to her feet. "It's incredible how much she's accomplished in spite of you."

Odalia's breath catches around a shocked, bitten-down laugh. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, I believe you meant 'because of-'"

"In spite of," Luz repeats, very firmly. "It's fortunate that Lilith Clawthorne has taken such an interest in her wellbeing."

Odalia's smile doesn't waver, but it does remain frozen for several seconds before she says, "I suppose Amity feels the need to invent an adversary. Some great trial she overcame to earn her place here. It's understandable. Children often lack the foundation to understand the sacrifices their parents make. She had a very privileged upbringing."

"Amity has never spoken unkindly of either of you," Luz says, although this she seems to mean more for Alador, whose face may give more away.

She steps lightly down the stairs from the throne, joining the pair of them on the ground. "Amity rarely speaks of either of you at all, actually. That isn't why I've called you here."

Odalia's voice turns cool, corporate. "Then how can we help you, Your Majesty?"

"Did you know that Blight Industries has a higher rate of workplace accidents than..." Luz slides a folder out of her tunic, flips it open, and raises her eyebrows. "...any other company on the Isles?"

This time, Odalia's laugh covers something else. "That's - that's preposterous. Our workplace safety records are excellent. Why, we haven't needed a single intervention by the Healing Coven in... oh, is it three years?" She taps the side of her mouth, frowning. "Four? Five?"

"That's fascinating," Luz says. "Not even for a scrape?"

"Abrasions heal quite well by themselves, given time."

"Absolutely fascinating," Luz repeats. "Did you know that it's illegal to purposefully deny people healing services?"

Odalia scoffs, incredulous. "For scrapes?"

"I know," Luz says pleasantly, "I was surprised, too. There are a lot of laws like that, it turns out. Text on paper that hasn't been enforced in half a century. From what I understand, this one is a holdover from early Empire anxieties. People were terribly worried about not having access to personal healing magic anymore. So healing services had to be protected."

Odalia's smile has become more teeth than pleasantry. "What a fun little history lesson. I'm sure you know all sorts of facts about the early Empire."

"It turns out that it's very easy to put laws in writing," Luz says, "without the intention to enforce them. My father, may the Titan bless him, had precious little interest in the rights of individuals to be seen by healers. But this isn't his Empire anymore. And I find the topic just captivating."

Odalia has stopped trying to hide her impatience, now. "So you'll fine us for not having healers on hand to wave away every little paper cut. That's fine. I apologize for the oversight. We'll settle up and make sure that going forward-"

"Mr. Blight," Luz says, ignoring Odalia entirely, "would you kindly remove your gloves for me?"

Alador startles.

Odalia doesn't glance at him. Her eyes are fixed unblinking on Luz. She speaks through her teeth, nearly a hiss. "Don't feel compelled to do that, dear."

"I assure you, I can compel him to do that," Luz says. Then, in a tone that would almost pass for apologetic if it wasn't so practiced, "I am sorry to compel it of you. I try not to compel my subjects very often. But if you find it difficult to remove your gloves, my scouts would be happy to assist you."

The scouts around the base of the throne don't move. Odalia's eyes slide uneasily over them anyway.

"That won't be necessary," Alador says, speaking for the first time. He pulls the gloves off without fanfare, holding up his hands.

Half of his left ring finger and pinky are conspicuously missing.

If Luz is uncomfortable with this revelation, she sure isn't showing it. "Oh, that's so interesting," she says, leaning forward to get a closer look. "The Healing Coven keeps meticulous records, and I'm certain a partial amputation was never reported to them. You were born with all five fingers, yes? I'm sure Amity will attest to that."

"This was from an accident in my personal lab," Alador says, with the mechanical precision of something rehearsed. "The severed digits were not... salvageable."

"It's so amazing that you were able to make that determination," Luz says, "without even needing to consult the Healing Coven. You must be a very proficient magician."

Alador blinks.

"Regardless," Odalia interrupts, "it happened outside of Blight Industries. The company isn't liable. You haven't 'gotten' us."

"Do you ever test Blight Industries products in your personal lab, Mr. Blight?"

"Prototypes," he says.

Odalia makes a sharp, exasperated gesture. "Alador!"

"That seems like company business to me," Luz says, still pleasant, still conversational. "Now, I will be fully transparent, before you accuse me of anything with regards to prejudice - it is true that I hate you both. It is true that I've hated you both for a while now. If you feel like I'm targeting you because I hate you, then you're very astute."

Odalia's fingers twitch, threatening to curl into fists.

Luz continues, "However, it's also true that there is no bias where my judgment is concerned. Not legally, anyway. So it doesn't matter whether I hate you or not. Whatever I decide to do with you is the Titan's will. Government is amazing."

Odalia exhales sharply.

When Luz doesn't waver, she shakes her head. For the first time, her voice cracks - properly cracks. There's a tiny tremble in her hands.

"Amity won't forgive you if anything happens to us," she says - but there's no bravado, no power, only pathetic uncertainty. "Regardless of any... petty grievances she may harbor. Family is everything to a Blight. She won't forgive this."

"I know that," Luz says. "I promise, I have no intention of doing Amity any unkindness. It's not her fault you two have chosen to be what you are."

Another sharp exhale. Odalia's breathing is ragged, audible. She's clearly not a woman accustomed to fearing for her own safety.

"That's fantastic news!" she chirps.

Luz's smile is beatific, magnanimous. The serene expression of someone who's never questioned the divine right of kings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not wholly opposed to doing an unkindness," she says, "if we can't seem to reach an agreement. It's really up to you how this goes."

She looks from Odalia to Alador and back, tilting her head.

"So. How badly do both of you want to live?"

[luminouslywriting]

Hey, I'm glad to hear you're making a bit of a recovery and I hope everything goes smoothly, take time to rest more if you need to <3,

The ask you got about reader dressing up all pretty got me thinking and i was hoping you'd be able to do something about how the mota boys (Rosie and any others) would be with a more masculine reader, like she’s more of a tomboy even in this era where femininity is the ideal,

Take care <3

Nonny, you're so sweet! This was such a darling request and I'm so sorry it's taken so long! Enjoy though :)

More under the cut, cut for length, some light spice sprinkled in, and paragraph formatted:

Bucky Egan:

Bucky Egan is a man, who if nothing else, has RANGE. So yes, he's into the feminine and the ideal and he's been with a great deal of women. However....he's pleasantly surprised and amused by his attraction to a woman who likes to get down and dirty, do her own work, and is just as fun-spirited and competitive as he is. The play fights? Off the charts with these two trying to tickle each other. The way that he actually enjoys being a bottom to this woman who takes charge in the bedroom and knows what she wants? He's in the seventh heaven. The bike rides that they can go on and he doesn't have to worry about her getting hurt because she's just trying to beat him in the race. He's absolutely floored and enamored by you—and if you want to go drinking with him and drink him under the table? It might be the selling point for him to realize that you're the only one for him from this point hence.

Gale Cleven:

Wasn't planning on falling in love with you? But there you were, playing darts with the guys and playing drinking games and cards—and he's intrigued. It definitely starts as a friendship first and you honestly remind him a lot of Bucky because you're just ahead of your time and want to do your own thing. You're not fragile and you're not hanging onto his every word—you like wearing pants and running barefoot in fields and he's utterly hung up on you. You're the ideal person for him—you work hard, you know how to handle yourself, and the two of you both match each other in terms of wanting to make something of yourself. He respects the hell out of you and though it's not a traditional relationship like the one that he was initially thinking that he wanted, he's much happier and more fulfilled in this relationship.

Robert Rosenthal:

Sees you arm wrestling with the men in a pub and is immediately starry-eyed at you. You speak your mind and you don't care about the consequences. You don't need a man and you're not seeking for anything other than friendship (at least at first). And he's utterly besotted and everyone is aware of it. Damn the consequences, he still treats you respectfully, but understands that you just want to be one of the guys. And thus the messiness of the relationship starts. He's out here wanting to take you on a date and you're offering to pay and he's just (HUH?). But he immediately finds the appeal once the two of you are interlocked in a makeout session and you take control of the situation and he allows you to. He had no idea that he would enjoy just sitting back and letting you be in charge, but he's convinced he's found his soulmate.

[akazzzaa]

hey there. I hope you are doing well and having a nice day or night.

this is my first request made and i read some of your writings which is really cool.

Anyway, I was hoping if you can do the Hashiras (you can chose which hashira) and/or Kamaboko squad member(s) reacting to reader who is childish in a way and doesn't take things seriously in a way. Though when it comes to slaying demons/having to go to a hashira meeting, the reader becomes more serious and their tone of voice changes. Which surprises (hashira/kamaboko squad member).

Hello thank you! I'm having a good day and I hope you are too : ) Thank you for enjoying my writing!

Summary- Reactions to reader being childish then serious when the situation calls for it

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None

Tengen Uzui

Tengen is amused by the your silliness, finding it endearing and refreshing. He appreciates your lighthearted nature and you both can be silly together. However, as he spends more time with you, he begins to see the depth and strength hidden behind your playful facade. This realization intrigues him, and he becomes increasingly drawn to your serious side. As their relationship deepens, he finds their balance of silliness and seriousness to be a perfect complement to his own personality.

Shinobu Kocho

She appreciates your ability to bring lightheartedness into such a cruel world. However, one day, during a mission, when your goofiness temporarily fades as you both face a life-threatening situation. Shinobu is pleasantly surprised by your sudden shift to a serious and determined attitude, which only deepens her admiration for your resilience and strength.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro Rengoku initially finds your silly antics quite amusing. He appreciates your lighthearted spirit and even shares a few chuckles and remarks. However, when your demeanor suddenly shifts to seriousness, Kyojuro is taken aback but also deeply impressed. He admires your ability to adapt and be focused when the situation demands it, and he finds your balance of playfulness and determination to be endearing. In those moments, he sees a unique strength in you that he truly respects.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu Tomioka is initially taken aback by your silly and carefree nature, finding it hard to understand your lighthearted approach to life. He often sighs at your antics. However, one day, during a particularly dangerous mission, your sudden seriousness and determination in the face of danger surprises Giyu, making him appreciate your strength and dedication even more.

Tanjiro Kamado

Tanjiro Kamado finds your silliness endearing but perplexing. He admires your ability to find joy in even the most dire situations. But when you reveal your true depth and seriousness, Tanjiro is impressed by your inner strength and determination. He realizes that beneath the playful exterior, you possesses a strong sense of purpose and unwavering resolve, deepening his respect and admiration for you

Zenitsu Agatsuma

Zenitsu Agatsuma often finds himself playing along with you and you both get to have a lot of fun together. He starts to appreciate your ability to bring joy and laughter into his life when everyone and everything seems so scary and serious for him. One day, when you suddenly becomes serious and focused on a demon, Zenitsu is taken aback by your sudden determination and strength. He realizes that beneath your silly exterior, there's a hidden reservoir of courage, which inspires him to be more serious and resolute when it truly matters.

Inosuke Hashibira

Inosuke Hashibira initially finds the your silliness irritating and confusing. He often wonders why you don't take things more seriously. However, over time, he starts to appreciate your lightheartedness and realizes that it brings balance to his intense personality. Eventually, he becomes more open to your silliness and even joins in on your antics, creating a unique bond that allows both of you to express your serious and silly sides when needed.

Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

30 for the writing ask?

30: describe a fic that almost happened, but then didn't.

Whilst away from my computer and therefore all my WIPs, I started a little one shot titled "Who the Hill?" and actually the premise is easier to explain by just giving you what I wrote for the fic before I abandoned it lol!

The bass thud of the club rattles Jason's sternum and thrums through his organs pleasantly as he surveys the rest of the room from his spot in the corner. He's not really looking for anything in particular, just too in the habit of counting exits and tracking glasses to stop even when he's just here to be around other people having fun.

Then he sees Tim - or well maybe that isn't Tim - or no that is absolutely, definitely Tim - but probably Tim's not the right name for the spike and chain adorned person leaned against the bar with the dark, expressive makeup, the short, black skirt, and the high heel boots.

Then he's caught staring and (Not?) Tim's eyes go wide in what looks like fear and ah shit, there's no way he she was ready to come out to him, but hey, he can be cool, he can roll with this and make sure she knows he's not gonna be a prick about it.

Tim watches Jason approach with absolute dread, because he never, EVER wanted to have to explain the whole 'hi, I'm bi and I love the way my ass looks in a mini-skirt' thing to the most depressingly unavailable straight guy he's ever met. He braces for simply the most awkward 'so is this a sex thing?' conversation ever held between two vigilantes.

Instead though, Jason surprises him, "Sorry for putting you on the spot like this, but can I ask for your name?"

Tim blinks and realizes that between the makeup and the breast forms there's a very good chance Jason has no idea who he is! In fact he probably only intended to chat up some cute goth girl, and if he can manage to play along right he might get out of this with his secret intact!

He pitches his voice up a bit and hopes to god that feminine cadence and the loud music carries him, "Carolina, but you can call me Carol if you like."

"Cool! I dig the spikes by the way," Jason smiles like Carolina's name is some beautiful treasure he's been allowed to glimpse and the dread comes right back up as Tim realizes that he's somehow going to have to find it in himself to turn Jason down.

He ought to do it right now. He ought to tell Jason he's an awfully polite guy but she's already late to go home and dropped her phone in the harbor and is currently walking out the door-

[That paragraph's phrasing was inspired by this song hehehe]

But right now Tim is a weak, weak man, who chooses to pluck at Jason's jacket flirtily, "Thanks, I dig the leather and the white streak! You dye it like that?"

Jason gives him the most adorable deer-in-headlights expression back, "Uh, it's um, it's actually a cold brand? You can kinda see the scar around it if you look close."

"Wait like, liquid nitrogen and metal- deliberately?"

"I mean I dyed it the once, but then uh..." He trails awkwardly with a shrug, "I like it. Nice not to have to do anything more to keep it there. Kinda annoying it doesn't keep any other colors, but, ya'know." Another awkward shrug.

"Huh," He'd always assumed Jason just came back with it, but it being an injury instead actually makes a lot of sense? Was it really deliberate though or was he just saying that? "That's pretty fuckin hardcore."

Jason smiles again, feeling warm at all the compliments, and then internally panics.

Tim Carol is flirting with him probably?! That was not- did he say something weird? How did he come off like... And even if he did how the fuck is he supposed to handle this??

She's a girl, and he's very gay.

It feels sort of awful and cruel to think that he might fall out of love with her just because she changed a few words and her shape. Are human hearts really so fickle that the same person in a different cloth cannot be loved the same way?

At the same time though, Jason has historically been a solid six on the kinsey scale and he's sadly gotta admit the boobs are really not doing it for him. But maybe the above the belt feelings will stay? Is that how this works?? Or maybe he can just kinda... Coach himself through moving to a kinsey five???

He nervously fidgets with his hands and tries looking at her legs. He usually really likes Carol's legs and wants to do all kinds of things with them, and legs are things most people have regardless of gender... He attempts to force himself to focus on all the same features he usually likes, but it's just not the same with the heels and the skirt. The spark is gone.

This is so fucking stupid. He's stupid. This isn't how anything works and he should know it, and maybe he even does know it...

He just can't bring himself to give up on this, though. He's never had a crush reciprocate anything before, and now the world demands that he breaks both their hearts over basically nothing?!

He can't and he won't and he fucking refuses!

[Lots more awkward and not so awkward flirting flipping between their perspectives. Tim enjoying the power trip of turning Jason into a nervous mess just by being fem, thinking it's newly realized attraction that Jason can't normally feel towards him, and Jason panicking about whether or not he can be attracted to her at all. This goes on until they leave so Tim/Carol can catch his/her taxi]

Tim glances out at the road, and prepares to rip his own heart out by giving him a fake number, "Hey, um, I kinda ordered a taxi like before I even went out, so... text me?"

"Yeah sure, I've still got your number, and I'll see you back at the cave tomorrow anyways."

Tim, half turned away, goes rigid, "When the fuck did you figure out who I am?"

"What? Who the fuck else would I think you were?"

"A woman!"

"But like, you are a woman though??"

Tim stares at him, baffled, until the taxi driver leans on the horn and he decides to have this conversation on the way home. He grabs Jason by the wrist and hauls him into the car.

Jason hiss-whispers, "Wait are you in disguise right now? Did you just fucking use me for a case?!"

"No!" Tim hisses back while slamming the door shut behind him, "No, it's unfortunately infinitely more stupid and embarrassing for me!"

"Then...?" Jason gives him a confused gesture to spit it out already.

"I'm a crossdresser. My name's not any different. I'm not a woman. I'm sorry, I swear I didn't mean to lead you on, I just didn't know what the fuck to do when you came up to me asking for my fucking name."

And that's as far as I got before I abandoned it!

The problem I had with it and the reason I'm never gonna finish it is because there's not really a way to resolve the core tension/conflict that would be satisfactory to me. I need to emphasize here that I don't care about trying to find some kind of """"morally correct"""" way to end it, I just mean personally satisfying for me; any of the possible ways to end it would be morally fine, they just also all make me feel bad lmao

So like obviously the original resolution to the miscommunication was that Tim was a cis dude who just happened to be into dressing up in girly clothes and enjoying men's attention that way. That part on its own would be good, but it does mean that the moment of resolution from Jason's perspective comes out to being "Oh thank goodness you're not trans/not a woman/not a trans woman" and I don't feel great about that. Again, not a morals thing, it'd just leave a bad taste in my mouth.

My second idea was to have Tim realize he might be non-binary/a woman via Jason treating him like a woman and being so accepting of her. As a gay trans man who likes to cross dress in order to enjoy men's attention, this would give me bone dissolving levels of dysphoria!

There was also the problem of how to resolve Jason's sexuality.

As a gay man who spent many, many years of my life attempting to convince myself I was bisexual, any version of making Jason bisexual would give me bone dissolving levels of dysphoria! But like sexuality dysphoria instead of gender dysphoria. It would also eliminate an important source of narrative tension and character motivation.

The traditional version of keeping him gay would mean that Jason turns Carolina/Tim down altogether, which would break Jason's heart, and break Carolina's heart, and break my heart, and also turn the reveal into "it's a tragedy that you're trans/a woman/a trans woman". Infinite pain for zero gain!

I'd actually love to have Jason simply want to try being sexually intimate with an enby/woman Tim and have him decide he likes it even though he's still gay and still not attracted to Carolina/Tim at all. The experiences of sex having ace folks and people who have sex with people they aren't attracted to are really interesting to me and I'd love to explore that - if there was a bit more room to explore it right. This is a tiny one shot. I don't feel like I could properly convey that without putting in way more time and effort than I have to spare on this side project.

I MIGHT someday be convinced to finish this for a few different reasons, but for the forseeable future it won't be worked on. I have SO MANY PROJECTS that are better, more interesting, less awkward to handle, and already half published, like I got better things to do lol, so for now this is the one that got away.

In the meantime though: Please steal this!! If you find the premise interesting, especially if any of the versions that would give me bone dissolving dysphoria appeal to you, please take my words and write more onto them! I'd love to see some version of this finished someday, and I don't mind if someone (or several someones!) end up doing it instead of me, just lemme know if you do and throw a lil bit of credit my way and it's all good :3

[aflawedfashion]

I finally read The Ruby's Curse, a River Song novel by Alex Kingston. It's so chaotic and fun. If you like River and haven't read it, you should.

While loved River from the start of this novel, I wasn't really hooked at first by the excerpts from a Melody Malone novel that River's writing from her cell in Stormcage, but I was pleasantly surprised to see how much River's novel ends up playing into the main plot in ways I couldn't have guessed, and I love how River herself is caught up in a wild adventure she didn't expect. She's definitely not sitting in prison the whole time. Far from it.

I had read the previous Melody Malone story and didn't really love it, so I'm happy this one is so much better.

Also, it's only a small part of the novel, but the moments between Amy and River and the moments when River talks about Amy and Rory are really lovely. She loves her parents.

Bonus: Alex Kingston narrates it if you get the audiobook.

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member is dating New Jeans' Minji

A/N: Heyyy, I'm coming up with a lot of stuff for you guys so I can make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that the anons who gave me these very similar ideas on Tumblr like it!

The requests: Hey. I want to request can you do where y/n is dating minji newjeans and the unnies want to see how she handles y/n (because she playful, childish, mischievous) and minji did a great job handling y/n and put y/n in bed and cuddle her. Thank you ❤️. Love your work

Hi I want to request can you do where y/n is dating Minji from Newjeans and it's minji first time staying a night at twice dorm and they ask minji help to put y/n to sleep as y/n is a bit hyper. Thank you

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

Y/N, the 10th and youngest member of TWICE, had always been known for her playful and mischievous personality. She brought laughter and joy to the group, and it was hard to resist her infectious enthusiasm. But it wasn't just the TWICE members who fell under her spell, it was also Minji, a member of the rookie girl group Newjeans and Y/N's girlfriend.

Minji had joined the music industry recently, and her relationship with TWICE's maknae was still relatively new. The other members of TWICE had been eager to meet her, curious to see how she could handle their kid's personality.

One evening, Minji was invited to stay the night at the TWICE dorm for the first time. Y/N had been excited about the prospect of spending the evening with her girlfriend and showing her where she lived. The other TWICE members, particularly the unnie line, were equally eager to see how Minji would handle Y/N's playful antics.

As Minji arrived at the dorm, she was greeted with warm smiles and introductions. The members were genuinely happy for Y/N and her new relationship, and they couldn't wait to get to know Minji better.

Dinner was a lively affair, with Y/N, in her usual fashion, cracking jokes and pulling pranks on the members. Minji watched the chaos with amusement, and the members were pleasantly surprised to see how well she handled their girl's playful side. She laughed along with them, joining in on the fun and even playing some pranks of her own.

As the evening wore on, Y/N's energy showed no signs of weakening. The other members, while entertained, knew that their angel needed her rest. She had a busy schedule, and it was essential to ensure she got enough sleep. The unnies, especially Jihyo and Nayeon, decided it was time to intervene.

Jihyo cleared her throat and addressed Y/N, who was currently engaged in a playful tickling match with Minji. 

Jihyo - Y/N, sweetheart, it's getting late. You need to get some rest.

Y/N pouted, her playful demeanour momentarily fading as she looked at Jihyo. 

Y/N - But Jihyo Omma, Minji just got here. I don't want to go to bed.

Nayeon chimed in, her tone filled with motherly affection. 

Nayeon - Baby, you have a busy day tomorrow, and we want you to be well-rested. Minji will still be here when you wake up.

Minji nodded in agreement, her playful smile never wavering. 

Minji - They're right, my love. We'll have plenty of time together. But you need your beauty sleep.

Y/N sighed dramatically, her shoulders slumping as she reluctantly agreed. 

Y/N - Okay, fine. But only if Minji helps put me to bed.

The members exchanged amused glances, impressed by how well Minji was handling Y/N's childish antics. Minji rose from her seat with a playful salute. 

Minji - I'm on the job. Let's get you ready for bed, babygirl.

Y/N grinned and jumped up, taking Minji's hand. They headed to SMC's room, leaving the other members to their evening.

Once inside the room, Minji helped her change into her pyjamas, a pair of cute and comfortable matching ones. Y/N's playfulness had yet to wane, and she bounced on the bed like an excited child. Minji laughed, finding Y/N's energy endearing.

Minji - You're such a handful, honey.

Minji teased, but her eyes were filled with affection.

TWICE's fireball pouted and tugged on Minji's arm, pulling her closer. 

Y/N - Cuddle with me, babe. I can't sleep without cuddles.

Minji happily obliged, lying down next to Y/N. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Y/N nuzzled her head against Minji's chest, sighing in contentment.

As Minji stroked her partner's hair and held her close, she couldn't help but feel a rush of love for the playful idol. The young girl's personality was one of the things that had drawn her to her in the first place. She knew that Y/N's playful side was just one facet of her complex personality, and she adored every part of her.

In the living room, the other members couldn't help but comment on the sweet scene they had witnessed. Jihyo and Nayeon, in particular, were pleased with how Minji had handled their youngest child.

Jihyo - They look so cute together! Minji is amazing with Y/N. She's patient and caring, just what our Y/N/N needs. *proud smile*

Nayeon - Yes, she's like the perfect partner for our sweet girl. I'm really happy for them. *nods*

The other members nodded in agreement, glad to see their little sister in a loving and supportive relationship. It was clear that Minji not only appreciated Y/N's playful side but also knew how to take care of her and help her get the rest she needed.

In Y/N's room, Minji held Y/N close, the two of them wrapped in each other's warmth. Y/N's playful antics had given way to a peaceful expression as she snuggled with Minji.

Y/N - Goodnight, my heart. *whispering as she kissed the other girl*

Minji - Goodnight, lovebug. 

Minji replied, pressing another gentle kiss to Y/N's lips. 

As they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, they knew they had found something truly special in each other. And this made both share the same thought:

I'll love my dear chosen family forever.

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3

[teambyler]

"Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time" - s5e6

Plot beats and scenes leading to a Byler endgame, one episode at a time, for Season 5 of Stranger Things. (This is just for fun! I have no insider knowledge!)

Also see Part 0, where I explain what I think a Byler Endgame has to address. Link to the previous episode.

s5e6

Some time after Mike and Will realize their feelings for each other, the other members of the party arrive at Hopper’s cabin. El is out front and shushes them with a finger to her lips. She quietly opens the door and everyone sees Mike and Will embracing, asleep, tears clearing tracks through the grime on their faces. Everyone is pleasantly surprised. Joyce thinks they're so adorable and immediately wants to walk in, but El stops her. They all wait outside. El gently wakes the two of them and everyone openly arrives a few minutes later. They take Will to the hospital for his arm.

The next night, back at the Wheeler house, Mike and Will are hanging out. Will can’t play Nintendo with his bad arm, but Will is telling what to do as he plays Final Fantasy. They name their party after the four original members of their group. Mike: “I like this.” “Like what?” “Just hanging out…” “Well we’ve always hung out.” “That’s the thing. We never... I never told how you feel.” He talks about how wrapped up in El he was, so he could hide from his own feelings. The year Will was away, he tried to call more but the phone was always busy. He thought Will had moved on, had made a painting for a girl. Will: "Well, I could have reached out more too." A pause. Will: “It’s sad that we lost so much time…” They linger a while on this thought. Mike turns to Will with determination. “I’ll make it up to you Will. Or I’ll try.” They should do something together tomorrow night. Will smiles: “Are you asking me out on a date?” Mike stands up and extends out his hand in a medieval bow: “May I?” Will stands: “Oh yes, my paladin.” and kisses Mike on the cheek. Mike playfully touches the spot Will kissed like he's just been kissed by a rock star.

Afterward, Mike goes to his room and digs out some old things. We see some of the toys he decided not to throw away in s2. He looks at one of them in particularly fondly, and sets it aside.

The next morning, Ted is already gone. Karen has made pancakes and eggs, and she is on the phone talking with Joyce. Mike and Will reach for the syrup at the same time and touch hands, and they both look at each other slowly let go. Mike: “You can’t open it anyway.” Will laughs: “That’s for sure.” Mike opens the bottle and pours syrup on Will’s eggs. Will is blushing and smiling. We zoom in on Karen who sees this all take place…

At school the next day, Dustin and Lucas tell them they need to have an "emergency party meeting.” In private, they tell them “We know” and before Mike and Will can protest they say it’s totally cool and it’s a beautiful thing. In their party they stand up for each other, full stop. They always have, and always will. Will: "I wasn't sure..." Dustin: "We've gone through hell together, saved each other's lives. Are you kidding?" Lucas holds out his hand for a handshake. Will skips that and just hugs Lucas. The others join in, and the four of them share a long group embrace.

After school, Mike asks his mom if she has a good box for giving a gift, about “yay tall” (demonstrates with his hands). She says sure: “Who is it for?” Mike hesitates... Karen: “Is it for Will?” There’s a look of fear in his eyes. She sees his reaction and doesn’t push it. She finds an old gift box she had saved. While she is looking, she has a tender look on her face. She finds a good box and hands it to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “I think Will is a very nice boy.” Mike looks shocked, then relieved. He starts to cry. She hugs him: “I told you, you never have to hide anything from me. I'm your mom, MIke! I love you.” Mike nods through tears. “Does dad know?” “No…” They hold each other. She gives him an encouraging nod, and he takes the box.

Mike presents the gift box to Will, and he expectantly watches him take off the lid. Will recognizes Mike's old teddy bear. “Aww that’s so sweet.” “I know it’s kinda stupid, and I didn’t buy anything, but it seemed right.” “It’s perfect.” He hugs Mike, and they kiss. They go out on their date. They go watch a re-screening of Spaceballs and have a great time. Afterward, Mike takes them to an ice cream shop. Mike takes one of Will’s art markers and starts to draw a heart on Will’s cast. Will: “Mike!” Mike doesn’t care. They get some homophobic stares from adults. Before Mike can finish, Will hides away his arm. Mike sees this and is hurt, but understands.

The next day, Will shyly approaches Mike in the school hall. They give each other boyfriend looks. Mike says they should go out again tonight. “Two nights in a row?” “Sure! Why not?” “You know, you don’t have to take me out all the time. You can't afford it." They laugh. Will "We could just hang out and play games.” Mike wants to kiss Will on the spot. “So it’s a date?” Will giggles and looks shyly to the side: “Yes, it’s a date.” Max walks up to them and says “Hi, lovebirds!” They blush. The bell rings, they turn and head to their class.

… They pass by and notice Bully #1. He looks at them and Max stares daggers back. He immediately lowers his gaze. Will, defiantly looking straight at Bully #1, extends his hand out to Mike. Mike takes it, they look at each other. Mike gives a loving sigh and nods. Students look at them in shock as they walk down the hall in slow motion, David Bowie’s “Heroes” playing (starting here). The last line is sung as we go to credits...

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day

====================

That's it! I'm not planning anything more on this particular project. I have a couple ideas including Will and Mike getting caught on the Upside Down and Will using a gun lol, but I don't feel like writing it out because from here forward the A plot takes center stage and I have no idea where that will go!

Anyway, that concludes "Byler Endgame - One Episode at a Time." I hope you enjoyed it!

Part 0 (what a Byler endgame needs to address) Previous episode

-teambyler

[miss0atae]

Century of Love : Good ideas, Good acting, Meh ending (EP 9 – 10)

I'm again late to the party. We’ve finally reached the end of Century of Love. It wasn’t a series I thought I would enjoy, but I was pleasantly surprised. I’m glad I was convinced by others to watch it. Again I have to admit how great it is sometimes to have found really interesting people’s blogs to read here on Tumblr. It can sometimes make you see something in a different light. You will always find so many different views. Sometimes you’ll agree with them and sometimes you won’t see the same things as them. However, it’s always interesting. That’s the beauty of any work of fiction: you’ll always have something to say about them and it’s not the same for everybody. This time I won’t develop one point from the series. I’ll focus on a summary of what I feel about it.

Things I really liked about it:

◾ The story itself was interesting. Reincarnation mixed with Chinese mythology to have a BL story in Lakorn style. Century of Love used the Lakorn formula to offer something different among all the great QL series we got this year. I also believe it was good that the story didn’t really give us a proper answer on who was the real reincarnation of Vad / Wat. It lets the viewers to decide what he prefers. The only thing to keep in mind is that it’s better to let the past stay in the past and to fully live in the present. That’s the only way to love and to be loved.

◾ We had great characters too even if sometimes some of them were a bit too much for me. I guess it’s because some were classic Lakorn characters (New Vad / Wat was a perfect example of this. She was just too much at the end). However, two characters got my heart in this series. Firstly, I would say Vee was my favorite character. I like how he was a combination of cheeky, playful and loyal. You just wanted him to find a cure for his grand-ma and to charm this handsome grumpy youthful-looking grand-pa. My second favorite character was Third, who played the childhood friend doctor of Vee. He was supposed to be the reincarnation of Lord Trai the ex-fiancé of Vad / Wat who killed her. However, in this time, Third has only been an ally to the main couple, even if he had feelings for Vee. He was there when San and Vee needed him. He never shy away from telling the hard truth and I’m glad he wasn’t just here to create a rift between San and Vee. I hope Tao and him get to have their own little romance.

◾ I was also impressed by Offroad and Daou's acting. I have to admit I never understood why people liked them before. I wasn't a fan of their boys band (LAZ1) and I didn't like their previous series, Love In Translation. I tried hard to get into it, but never felt the hype. However, here in Century of Love, I really liked them. Their acting was good and they would engage you to root for their characters. The chemistry between them is quite good and it makes you believe in the romance of their characters. Now, I'll be more interested in any other series they may do. Let me add too that I find Offroad really handsome. His smile is so pretty.

◾ The goddess had a really nice sense of humor. She must have had fun. Good for her!

Things I didn’t like:

◾ It's quite common in QL series especially Thai QL series, but I didn't really like the end. I'm glad Vee and San got their happy ending because I would have been really sad if they didn't get it. However, I felt like the end was rushed to fit the 10 episodes they were given. I also didn't like how San made this stupid move to not tell Vee the truth about how he saved him. Instead of thinking together of a solution, he left and let him deal by himself with the loss of his grand-ma, but also his disappearance. This was dumb and it seemed so out of character for San to let someone he loves suffering alone.

◾ I felt like they didn’t handle well new Vad / Wat appearance. It’s like they didn’t know if they wanted to make her a villain or a side-kick. Hence, she was stuck in this role where you wanted to root for her, but also where you were annoyed by some of her actions. I felt like she could have been better used by the story. I also saw how many viewers seemed to like her. They should have make something of it. I admit it was interesting that she didn’t have the same personality like the previous incarnation of Vad / Wat (just like Third wasn’t Trai). I don’t know I just wished for more from her.

◾ The five colored-stone power and the deal with the goddess made no sense after they used the stone to save Vee. We've been told San needed to have it to give it back to Vad / Wat to end his deal with the goddess. We've also been told he needed to be close to the stone to be able to not feel the pain he would always get until finding the reincarnation of his lover. However, when he gave it to Vee it shouldn't have matter. Unfortunately for him, even if he was close to Vee, he still felt the pain. Also, even if the stone reacted positively to Vee, giving it to him to save him, wasn't like ending the deal with the goddess. I wish it was because it would have avoided a needlessly complicated break up for San and Vee. The series never gave us an answer about why the rules changed suddenly.

One thing I can't explain, but felt it wasn't good enough. However, in the end it didn't matter:

◾ Let me get it straight. I created this category only to talk about Juu. I was so conflicted about this character. I have to admit I found her a bit annoying sometimes, but she was really a nice girl deep down. I felt bad not liking her as much as other. Especially as she was always trying to help the main couple to be together. Don't get me wrong, I like the actress and I feel she did a good job. I guess I forgot how young Juu is and that's why I felt like she was too much.

[harlequinoccult]

Haven't played this IF in a while, so I was pleasantly surprised to see it had been updated! And ougghh the bit of angst with Carter... y'all know I'm carving that man up like a thanksgiving day turkey then cackling like a madman about it after :'))

Also, haven't seen asks about this yet, but how do the ROs feel about knife play?

uwu

All of them would indulge in it if mc really wanted it, however-

Fun and games Elysium and Overdose delight in messing with you, they're both familiar and their intent is to poke and prod, just to see you squirm

New fascination Black Dahlia has never done this before so you'll have to walk her through it so she doesn't like. accidentally fucking kill you

A little too into it Host seems a bit too eager to do this. No they have never done this before.

Get a safe word. Cold and Sweetheart they'll carve their name into your flesh