#''oh shit i'm halfway decent at this writing thing''

[appalachianapologies]

every time i use an epithet i think of a tumblr post i read like 2 years ago about someone with Pro Writing Advice™️ who said that using even a single epithet ruins an entire piece and only bad writers do that and Real Authors™️ know better than to do that and also if you can’t figure out a way to get around an epithet maybe you shouldn’t even be writing in the first place

the weird things stick with me

[itsonlydana]

"Can you meet me halfway (I'll meet you halfway)" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

you went out clubbing on new years eve when a gorgeous rich couple hits on you and invites you back to their apartment to finish what you started right on the dancefloor

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, modern!AU, threesome, oral sex (male & female), dirty talk, semi-public-sex, soft dom! bard and bratty dom!thranduil, protected sex, fingering, passing out during sex, slight overstimulation, age-gap (reader is of age, though its described that thranduil and bard are older), hairpulling, aftercare,

words: 13,8k

an: this is by far the dirtiest thing i've ever written and my god i'm not a smut writer; i get too flustered over my own writing lmao. Hopefully you can enjoy this out-of-character story even if it isn't new years anymore!

inspired by early 2000s club bangers like Kesha, Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas (that's where the title came from) and Lady Gaga

+ masterlist + 

🌿 reposts and comments or anonymous messages in my inbox are very appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

"What?!"

"I said," the barkeeper leaned closer and pushed a filled to the rim shotglass over the counter, "this one is from the pretty one to your right!"

With a myriad of people in this club who fit your definition of "pretty" you found yourself on the brink of shouting at the red-haired bartender once more.

This would mark the third attempt, given that the club's 2000s music was blaring to the extent that communication was damn near impossible if you weren't screaming or using your hands trying to get orders across the sticky, littered with neon glowstick wristbands counter.

Before you could ask her who the hell she'd meant, the bartender had turned away, leaving you to figure out the mystery man for yourself.

You lifted the shot glass to your nose and took a deep breath— pure tequila.

At least you would enjoy this one; the last few shots other men had sent over to you had been nothing but disgusting, ranging from vodka to Jägermeister and one you didn't even bother to drink.

The world spun a little when you turned your head over your shoulder and for a second the flashy lights blurred the people crowding the bar into one mass, unidentifiable and mushed together; then your eyes zeroed in on him and pretty didn't even begin to cover it.

Next to the bar, holding out his own shot glass in hands that could've fit three or five of them, stood a man that was intimidatingly gorgeous and decently tall even as he rested his hip cheekily against one of the chairs, elbow on the wooden top while he flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass.

Not even that he was just tall, and he was –surely taller than most of the men standing between you two –, but he had this quality about him that let him stand out of the crowd.

Maybe it was the hair, blonde like starlight and pulled into a long and messy ponytail, with just a few loose strands framing his strong jawline. Or maybe it was the smug look on his face, the smirk that tugged on his lips when you dragged your eyes over the see-through shirt that clung to his well... and oh so– so well-defined chest.

On any other occasion, you would have simply raised the glass and disappeared back into the crowd of dancing people, but tonight felt different.

New Year's Eve had that ring to it. The careless "Fuck it all, it's all going to shit anyway"-attitude.

Any newspaper or media marked today the last day of yet another frustrating, wonderful, soul-crushing, draining, exciting, and overall overwhelming year, full of things you regretted having done, and as you stared at the man meeting your gaze with a questioning arch of a dark eyebrow, you found yourself giving a flying fuck about whether you'll add another mark on that board.

There was a surge of power washing through your body as you toasted the glass in his direction before tipping it against your lips and letting the tequila rush into your mouth.

The alcohol went down burning, hot, and dry and left a warm trail down your throat into your stomach.

"I see you not only bear a resemblance to the devil, you drink like her as well," a sultry voice drawled, sufficiently loud for you to lift your head.

Somehow the man had managed to appear right next to you within seconds and got so close that you were confronted with a very exciting view of his chest.

You eyed it, naturally because who wouldn't take their time looking at the flexing pecs covered in silver glitter and sweat?

Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards, only faltering for a moment at the sight of a pink tongue running over plush lips. You met his eyes again, this time with no more than half a meter separating you and you were glad your knees didn't buckle like they threatened to do.

"And what are you? Some angel that has fallen from heaven?" Your counter was weak, a bad example of what was usually some excellent flirting, if you dare say yourself, but it's all you could manage with those cerulean eyes staring down at you in interest.

He laughed, thank fucking god, and tilted his head to the side. "It must be fate that we met, is it not?"

"Buy me another drink and we'll see"

Somehow, it didn't surprise you that he simply raised his pointer finger and the server immediately rushed to prepare whatever order he'd signaled her.

"Unfair, I waited, like at least five minutes for some water," you complained, not really putting any real annoyance into it but pouting nonetheless for the effect.

It went a long way because the stranger stepped closer, up into the little bit of personal space one could have in an overcrowded club, and cooed, "What a shame. Who could ever pass such a lovely face and not serve you right away?"

"I don't know," you sighed and smiled at him sweeter than sugar, "I do know that we shouldn't let that tequila go to waste though"

"Then be a good girl and drink up"

Oh, yeah.

Suppose you hadn't already contemplated sleeping with him, that certainly solidified your decision.

This wasn't just fate, this must be compensation for all the shit you've been through this year, wrapped up nicely in 6 feet and more of dripping sex and sultry smiles.

Eyes locked, you both clinked the glasses together before throwing them back. You couldn't help it when your lashes flutter shut.

Once again, the tequila burned all the way down to your stomach, adding to the cocktail of drinks that lowered your inhibitions and made your core throb in excitement.

You would've asked him for salt and lemon if he hadn't looked so unbothered by the pure taste. His lips didn't twitch, while you're sure yours were pulled into a grimace.

"Thank you, Sir," the words left your mouth without a second thought.

Thinking, in general, started to become more of a theory than something you were willing to do tonight; much too exhausting if you could simply let your tongue run wild.

He rewarded you for that decision, for his eyes widened and he stepped even closer, now slotting one of those long legs - and fuck, was he really wearing leather pants? Who had access to your wet dreams?- between yours as he leaned down.

"I must say you caught my interest the moment I saw you on the dance floor," He placed a hand on the countertop, not touching you yet, though the invitation he gave you, the silent question for permission, spoke for itself.

The second move was on you to lure him in and you blinked up at him while you trailed your fingers over the arm, scratching hairless skin with the tip of your nails until it changed into the fishnet top and you placed the hand to rest on one strong shoulder. The red color of your nail polish made such a beautiful contrast to his fair skin that your mind conjured imagines of how they must look on other parts of him.

Surely, with the size of him…

Now that you initiated the contact, he drove forward with his second hand, and the large palm cupped your chin.

While the touch was hot in how it's delivered, so dominating, and fuck if that didn't send warm licks of pleasure down your spine, his hand itself was surprisingly cold.

The temperature in the club was almost unbearable, only manageable through refreshing drinks and a trip or two to the bathrooms, and the spikes of the cool touch fought the heat pooling in your body.

One of those silky locks of hair brushed your neckline, falling right into the cut out of your dress that his eyes shamelessly took in from his higher-up viewpoint.

You took a deep breath, maybe even pushed out your chest as he eyed it in the knowledge that the lace bra was showing through.

All you inhaled was the intoxicating smell of his cologne, vanilla (even though you suspected he is anything but...), and something sweet and without a doubt expensive.

You're addicted to it the moment it hit your nose and clouded your mind.

"Do you not believe that an appropriate thank you is in order?" he inquired; no, he demanded.

You decided to play dumb, not because you thought he's into that – on the contrary, he seemed the kind of man who admired eloquence and intellect rather than dullness – but because it's a game you both enjoyed playing.

There was intrigue in tip-toeing around what is most obvious (lust as well as the urge to rip each other's clothes off as soon as possible, maybe even a fuck in the bathrooms).

"I thought I already said thank you," you mused, pushing out your lower lip into a pout again, "and that lousy shot is hardly worth more than a few words. You can't expect something greater if there is nothing to thank for."

He raised a dark eyebrow – you wondered if he colored his hair or eyebrows – and the hand around your chin lifted your head to twist it right and left.

One smooth thumb brushed over the pout, and he clicked his tongue. "Now now, I would consider this greedy if you were not in the right. You poor thing must be exhausted after all the dancing"

His eyes flashed when yours widened; he really did notice you before, had watched you.

"Yes," he drawled as if he read your mind, and his lips curved into a smirk that flashed a row of perfect bright teeth, "I saw how you moved out there, how wanton you presented yourself. However, it did not escape my notice that you rebuffed anyone who dared to approach."

When you opened your mouth to say something, his finger swiped over your lip again. Without hesitation, you sucked on the fingertip, collecting a few drops of tequila that you made a show of swallowing.

The protest disappeared with it down your throat.

He was right, why deny it?

The way you danced was just an expression of how comfortable you felt in your own body, the rhythm provided by provocative music a tool to follow the movements.

Everything you did, you did for yourself, not for the men who attempted to touch you simply because they were captivated by the dancing. As if you would accept some clammy hands grabbing for you.

"Maybe it was wanton," you said after releasing his finger, but not without scratching your teeth over it.

His pupils dilated, his chest raised at a sudden inhale of air; he apparently underestimated you.

You nodded your head toward the dance floor, "maybe I came here to look for a good fuck, but it's my decision who I take and not theirs"

"As you should. Those boys who tried and failed miserably were amusing to watch. None of them were good enough for you, right, sweetheart?"

You hummed in agreement as well as disagreement. "I'm not searching for anyone good enough," you thought back to all the good-guys who had lured you in with promises of treasuring you only to become insufferable with their need to control in the end.

"Then what do you need?"

"I want someone bad," the tone in your voice was challenging, just like the stare you gave him. "I want someone who won't be afraid to break me"

There was a slight tug on your chin, his hand pulled you in slightly but any further without any movement from you, it would've cause a strain in your neck.

You craved it.

The blonde god, he must be, the thought became clearer with any passing second, a gift, a god, an angel, crushed his mouth against yours. There was a fleeting moment where you realized you didn't know his name, but then his other hand wrapped around your neck, and your teeth clashed, and you found yourself not caring one bit.

You're sure he wouldn't mind if you moaned "God" instead of his name. Maybe he would even get off to it.

Only one way to find out.

It turned out quite hard to manage saying anything at all, his kisses stole every last bit of oxygen, robbing you of the ability to string together words and turning you into a whimpering mess with his tongue and wandering hands.

He called you a devil yet here he was, corrupting you in a way that will ruin you for any other person.

"You taste divine," he sounded as breathless as you felt when you separated and dizziness cultivated in your lust-clouded head at the compliment rasped in that deep voice of his.

"Do not worry," he continued, smearing the string of spit that connected you over your plush lips, "If you allow me I will try my very best to break you"

Hell or heaven, wherever he was leading you right now, your need tripped over itself eagerly.

When was the last time you were this aroused? You felt yourself growing wetter and wetter, and that only through his words and kisses; the state he could push you into if he truly fucked you would be completely new territory, you realized.

A nod is all you could manage.

The last you saw on his face was a wide grin before he kissed you again, this time though, he moved on to your jaw and then your neck. You beared it to him by tilting your head, eyes falling on the ceiling where the neon lights hushed over black brick, coloring your sight while your face took on a flushed red.

The blond devil nipped and bit, sucked and scratched in a manner so animalistic you wouldn't have thought a surely unquestionably sophisticated man to be able to.

You whimpered again, and your hands rose to grab something, anything and you found that ponytail the most accessible. Your fingers twirled a few soft strands as you gasped when his teeth sunk into the delicate skin right where your neck and shoulder met, and the slight pain following wasn't unwelcome.

It made you feel alive.

You're close to pulling him away to the bathroom– an amused laugh to your side prevented that thought from festering any further.

"I'm away for one smoke and you just couldn' wait?"

Unable to think straight after the assault on your neck, it took a moment for you to come back to your senses that don't revolve around lips, kiss, bite, fuck, suck…

Your sight spun as you snapped your head back, nearly knocking your chin into the man still busy marking you up, unbothered that there was another man watching you and clearly waiting for an answer.

So you decided to do the only thing that must convince him to let go, and you pulled on his hair.

He growled, fucking growled, and his lips twisted, flashing his teeth again.

Your heart dropped into your wet panties until you found he wasn't pinning you to the floor with the hard stare but the new arrival.

"Did you not see that I was busy?" he snapped at the dark-haired man, and while you felt slightly scared he was going to rip his handsome head off, the man only sported an annoyed expression.

"Yes, exactly. If I remember correctly, we decided to wait until I get back?"

Decided, waited?

"You took too long"

The man threw his head back in a raspy laugh, "Incorrigible bastard. Will I have to sit you down with a toy to keep you busy while I'm away?"

The blonde turned back to you and smirked, "That will not be necessary as I am quite capable of finding my own toys"

"Hey!" you cut into the conversation, not amused that they talked as if you weren't right there, "I'm not a fucking toy!"

Both men turned to you now, towering over you in their height, and mustering you so intensely that you slightly squirmed under their gaze.

The man with salt and pepper hair chuckled. "I am so sorry, Darlin'. I hope Thranduil didn't play too hard?"

Considering that you still felt the scratch of his teeth on your neck and the wet spit he left there, you felt like some kind of chew toy one would throw their dog but nevertheless, you pushed your chin up high. "Nothing I can't take."

The blonde's, Thranduil's, hand on your waist pulled you into him possessively. "I told you there is some bite behind the pretty face," he smirked.

While it didn't escape you that this hinted to a previous conversation, a plan formed over you, it's the attractiveness of them that led you to turn a blind eye.

"Weren't you the one biting a minute ago?" The music made it hard to talk normally and you stood up on your tiptoes to yell the words, but all that it resulted in is a deep chuckle.

"Oh, I like you," the other man laughed as well.

You took him in, the tight pants that showed off strong thighs and the black and gold shirt with more buttons open than actually buttoned that presented muscles and hair leading down and oh–

"What a surprise," you said, looking up to meet his hungry eyes, "I find I like you too" You turned your head to Thranduil, who smirked and sent you a wink that had you blushing, "So how's this gonna work? I'm going to be blunt and say that five minutes ago I was convinced you and I were on the same page, what's with your friend?"

"Husband"

"Husband?!" you parroted, unconvinced yet when your eyes fell on their hands a gold ring flashed back at you from both fingers.

Heat curled in your body like molten lava at lustful and otherwise utterly inappropriate thoughts this provoked of these two married man having their way around your body.

Thranduil bowed his head lower again, playfully nipping at the part of your neck that surely was already bruising. "I have to admit that I promised Bard to wait for him to come back, though I found I could not follow through when I saw you approaching the bar."

You swallowed. Hard. Not that it helped your very dry throat.

Bard came closer, reclaiming your attention.

His face, more defined than Thranduil's, was adorned with a rugged layer of dark stubble, crow's feet framing his vivid green eyes when he smiled at you. He looked the picture of a soft soul, but you remembered that this couple was picking up a third partner on New Year's Eve, so you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

There was some spice behind the old-armchair-and-book-vibes.

"Will that be a problem, Darlin'?" he asked in that ruff voice, posh and Welsh accent dripping over you.

A refreshment to hear that accent in this city, so enthralling in how it wrapped around you; especially that damn nickname. There was no way you would say no to him.. both of them if he called you Darling one more time.

You shook your head. "No. I think I'll just need a bit more liquid encouragement if I am to survive this night."

"Oh, what a shame," Thranduils lips left where they continued to suck and lap on your neck, peppering kisses, leaving bruises, and moved to your earlobe. His voice dropped as much into a whisper as the music allowed it, "I had my hopes on fucking you into heavenly spheres"

There went the last string of sanity holding you back.

Hearing a man who was seemingly hell-bent on avoiding abbreviations like "don't" and "can't" at all costs speak in such a filthy way was something you never knew you needed.

"I hope you can follow through with that," you trailed a hand over his smooth chest, collecting glitter on your way and smeared it over his throat where his adams apple bobbed, "because if you break that promise like you did the one with your husband, I will just have to let him finish the job"

Thranduil yanked you back into him, back into a kiss that seared itself into your memories and burned the touch, taste, and movement of his lips into every cell of your body.

It was almost aggressive how much teeth went into the kiss, how he bit down and all you could do was gasp and whimper.

Briefly, you thought of the poor people around you, because if all you wanted to do was get a drink and were confronted with one person devouring the other, you would be seething but right now you were being the one he kissed, whose sounds he swallowed and whose hands held you to him.

So fuck them.

With your senses heightened now that you wanted these men all over you, the sensation of Bard leaning in, hair tips tickling your neck as he licked Thranduil's throat, led you to pull away from the blonde. You watched as Bard sprinkled something flaky and white onto the spot wet with spit, and only when he lifted a shot glass the thought crystalized that he salted Thranduil for you.

"Come on," Thranduil's smirk taunted you just as much as his words, "What is another lousy shot? We even made it easy for you poor baby, after you could not take the first one easily"

Rolling your eyes at the mocking, you dove in to copy Bard. The salt sticking to his neck coated your tongue and you took longer than necessary to lick the skin free of it. The rush that this sent through you was exhilarating.

As soon as you were finished, your head got tilted backward firm and yet gently.

Rough fingertips cupped your neck and one thumb moved to press against your jaw, as you felt a solid chest in your back.

"Open wide, Darlin'," Bard ordered and encouraged you to follow him as his other thumb pushed between your teeth.

You obeyed, never once breaking eye contact with Thranduil and taking in his lust-blown pupils, as Bard poured the tequila into your mouth, directly down your throat. Then, while you pulled a grimace, shutting your eyes for a second, Bard turned you around, sandwiching you between them.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw the green slice of lemon between his teeth and following the wink he sent you; you knew exactly what was to come next.

Kissing Bard was very different from getting kissed by Thranduil.

His lips were slightly cracked, not soft and they tasted like smokey whiskey and cigarettes, with hints of coffee and lime instead of fruity cocktails and rose chapstick. Lifting one hand to his face, your fingertips grazed the rough beard growing on his sharp jawline, the stubble scratching you in a promising way.

While you had been surprised when Thranduil had kissed you, you eagerly answered Bard's kiss with fervor. Your mind already teetered on the brink of shutting down and you poured the desperation into his mouth with a moan.

He chuckled, drawing back just enough that he could spit out the lemon – sucked empty – before wiping his thump over your lips.

"Sweet thing"

There was a softness in that gesture, but only short-lived before he kissed you again. His hands trailed your body, coming to rest on either side of your neck again and even that slight of pressure loaded a million images through your head.

A second pair of hands joined him on you, it's confusing until a large body pressed into your back and you realized- it was only Thranduil.

Well, only…

It had been clear that the man could and would not accept being reduced to anything. He radiated an attitude that you would call bratty but with his expensive clothes, that rich perfume, and the wave of the hand that brought him drinks, aristocratic diva seemed more fitting.

His demanding character became clear when his hands set on your waist, immediately fingering the seam of your jeans, pulling you more into him by the belt loops.

You followed that tug, though Bard deepened the kiss to keep you by him, his tongue exploring your mouth and enticing you to breathlessly moan against his smiling lips.

Despite the loud music, Thranduil's voice was loud in your ear.

"As stunning as you right now, I can not help but imagine you squirming on our silk sheets– moving those bewitching hips of yours," Thranduil playfully took the burning tip of your ear into his mouth, "If you want to follow this invitation, of course"

"Whatever you just said," Bard broke away from you to look over your shoulder at his husband, "It better have been the idea of finally getting out of here" he pushed his hips against yours for you to feel the hard outline of him, "because I don't want to wait til the ball drops"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"Thran–" There was a warning edge in Bard's voice, and you felt Thranduil huff.

"Funny, how this old man can not take a joke as soon as he is aroused"

It's absurd how casually he said this while his hands slid down the front of your jeans, earning himself a gasp from you.

Unashamed as a man only his status can be, he toyed with the seam of your underwear, not caring one bit for the glare of his husband.

Your body arched into him, answering the question he had whispered earlier.

The only thing keeping you from getting down on your knees to worship him and his obviously talented fingers was the blaring music, reminding you that you were not yet somewhere private and very much on display.

You briefly wondered if these two were rich enough to simply pay their way out of a public indecency arrest. You wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't even get arrested.

Since Thranduil made no sign of disengaging himself from you, you stepped away from him, right against Bard's chest.

"Shall we go? Your husband mentioned luxury sheets which I bet are more comfortable than a threesome on the dance floor"

The way out of the club presented itself as more difficult than you would have thought.

With Bard shoving a path through the dancing crowd in front of you, holding on to one hand, Thranduil breathing down your neck and you pausing now and again because "Oh my gosh, I love this song!" it took a lot longer than necessary.

Not that any one of you minded.

Lost in the mass of people shouting, dancing, and pushing you three closer together and the tequila in your bloodstream you ended up undulating to Nicki Minaj's 'Pound The Alarm' completely lost on the fact that both men had stopped to watch you.

The lights were colorful and sharp and in their hues, Bards and Thranduil's jawlines looked even sharper tinted red, blue, green, and whenever the disco ball flashed white across their faces the lust in their eyes caused shivers on every part of you.

Thranduil's hands moved to your lower abdomen, making it easy to grind against him as you raised your hands to Bard's strong shoulders.

Two huge pairs of hands gripped your waist from either side and held you steady and close to themselves, keeping everyone else from getting any nearer than they allowed.

"Fucking hell– Darlin' you drive me crazy!" Bard yelled over the music as you suddenly decided to drop down intact with the beat, dragging your nails over his torso.

You laughed, low and full-heartedly.

Coming up, his hands moved to the flushed skin that your shirt had revealed by riding up, holding you tight to sweep you away into a kiss.

One thigh, leather, and flexing muscles shoved itself between your thighs and you responded eagerly, grinding against it without a second thought.

Just when you thought you were ready to finally go, the song ended and faded into yet another pop hit. 'LoveGame' by Lady Gaga and intact of the low thumping beat, Thranduil's hips circle against your behind, pressing what was an impressive hardness into your arse while his deep voice switched from singing to humming the lyrics.

One of his hands spread over your abdomen, the other arm blindly reached for Bard and pulled him into a kiss right over your head.

Amid the mass of sweaty people and the multicolor array of colors flashing over Thranduil's blonde hair, the 2000s music blaring through the speakers and resonating in every cell of your fevered body, they looked hot enough for the porn industry to sign them under contract.

You were never making it out of the club.

You did make it out eventually, sweat dripping down your temple, Thranduil's chest in your back whenever you stumbled, his hands steadying you.

On what you assumed was an oversight or blind eye of the club owners the crowd had doubled in the last hour.

Far too many people joined the floor and even with Bard's commanding presence leading you it had been close to impossible to step forward and not swerve out of the way of someone drunk.

Outside, the line curved around the block, and those who waited or didn't get into the club or even just hung in groups celebrating on the streets blocked the whole sidewalk.

A number of fireworks were already soaring into the air, sent up there by early birds who couldn't wait until midnight – cheered up by loud excited screams and laughter as the dark night sky lit up here and there with colorful explosions.

Quite sobered up, the dancing had contributed to that, you stared at them.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?" you asked and crossed your arms in front of you; the winds were biting cold and you hadn't bothered bringing a jacket, "It's madness."

"We will just get a cab"

You barked out a laugh though Bard stayed completely serious.

"Wait, that wasn't a joke?" you rubbed your palms over the naked skin, still warm and thrumming with the afterglow of the unbearable heat of the club, although the cold fought hard and unfairly.

"No, sweetheart, it wasn't," Thranduil said, not bothered by the chaos of people pushing each other, waving their hands like they're trying to flag down a spaceship.

On this day, the chances for that to happen were more likely than actually getting a cab.

He took one step into the busy street, and you yelped, overcome by the shock that he just walked into fucking traffic, his long ponytail swaying with his steps.

Then, like movie magic, a car swerved to the side and stopped right next to Thranduil.

Bard pulled you along, your hand cradled to his chest so as not to lose you. Thranduil opened the door, gracefully sitting down behind the empty passenger seat.

You stumbled onto the back seat next to him, and mumbled a half-hearted "Hello" to the driver, who gave you a nod – a nod, an hour before midnight, from a cap driver, fucking miracles– before shut the plastic window close.

"Holy crap," you exhaled. "Is this what the high life's like? Getting drinks and cabs without any fucking effort?"

Despite the crude and cutting words swinging in their direction, Bard and Thranduil chuckled. The synchronized deep sound reverberated in the quiet cab, warming up the space instantly.

"Do you really think that this" – Thranduil languidly gestures to all of him – "takes no effort?"

Bard huffed. He leaned into you as if he wanted to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice: "We were supposed to be here five hours ago. Took him that long to figure out what to wear." He shot a teasing grin at his husband.

"Oh, I have had enough of your whining," In one elegant movement Thranduil folded one long leg over the other. The point of his boot caught your shin in a soft tap that drew your attention to him.

He smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you are interested, though, I could show you what it is like to ride the waves of the high life"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"No," Bard's lips ghosted over your neck, peppering more kisses to the skin there, "A promise for an unforgettable high"

You were unable to think of what they could propose.. well, you could, but they wouldn't, not here in this cap, right?

Bard's legs were spread a little far apart and, fuck, the flickering lights of the city flying by highlighted a very prominent bulge that he made no effort of hiding. Was he going commando?!

Your eyes snapped back, burning a hole into the roof of the cab.

A hand fell behind you on the headrest at the same moment as Thranduil's cold fingers slipped onto your thigh.

Thranduil's hand snuck to your jeans and played with the button and zipper before,

Oh-

he opened your jeans and immediately slid his cold, long, slender fingers down your panties.

Oh, fuck

Your hips twitched into his hand and you had to bite down on your finger to muffle the gasp that itched behind your teeth.

Without a care in the world, Thranduil cupped your sex, mumbling something to himself under his breath that sounded like a "So fucking wet- for us?" and worked his middle finger into you.

Pulling it out again, he started circling your clit, smearing your own slick over it, moving right over the spot where your nerve endings were sparking white and hot and you shuddered uncontrollably.

The chill of his fingertips heightened your sensitivity. Still flushed all hot from the club, you instinctively arched upward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as Thranduil's fingers tapped against your swollen wet clit.

The noise prompted his gaze to lock onto yours.

Your gasp broke off as your hips nearly flew off the seat and it was only for the belt snapping tightly against your lower abdomen that your head didn't make contact with the roof.

That, and the arm Bard put around your shoulders. He held you down and gave you his biceps to let your head fall against something that wasn't the uncomfortable seatrest.

Your cheeks flushed under Thranduils scrutiny, as well as at the general scene and obscenity of everything, and a subtle smirk played on his lips.

"Do you enjoy that?" His voice was flirty, and while you want to retort that it should be very clear how much you liked his fingers fucking into you, you only managed a nod.

"Say it." He leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eyes. His fingers stopped, clearly waiting for you to obey his order. "Use your words, you still know how, right? I haven't even started, clearly there must be something you could tell me."

"Yes," your admission was barely a whisper, but it sufficed.

Thranduil hummed, using his other hand to open your legs as wide as the tight jeans allowed it before he worked two agile fingers into your throbbing cunt.

You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, watching his relaxed demeanor while fingering you open without caring about anything else.

The heel of his hand pressed into your pelvis, giving him a reasonably steady hold in the jolting cab so that he could hit a spot inside you with precision and with every, goddamn, perfect, thrust of his fingers that made you pant out.

"Thran-" the nickname you heard Bard call him slipped out unconsciously, it's the only thing you could pull out of the depth of your mind, "Thran.. please"

"Beggin' already?" Bard chuckled, "Darlin' you have seen nothing yet and here you are, beggin' to cum in the back of a cab."

"Bard you have no idea how fucking wet she is. She's dripping down my hand, squeezing my fingers, and fuck she's so tight," Thranduil muttered and as he slipped his other hand to the one slipping and sliding against your g-spot in a maddening relentless rhythm, he rubbed them over your folds.

He collected some of your wetness on those fingers, circling your clit again before pulling them away, out of your pants, and to your horror, he held them up into the air, inspecting how his fingers glistened in the city lights.

He rubbed them together, all right in the view of the rear back mirror of the cab driver, who – thank god – kept his eyes on the road and only turned up the radio in unspoken ignorance of what was happening in his car.

God, you hoped these men would tip him adequately.

"Here," Thranduil reached his arm out past your half-opened lips and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you his fingers, but he leaned further forward.

A gasp broke out of you as you watched Bard open his mouth and greedily took both fingers right between his lips, and.. sucked.

His eyes fell shut with a contented sigh as if he were tasting his favorite drink.

You saw his tongue run thoroughly over Thranduil's patiently waiting fingers, cleaning them off every last bit of you, and god, you wanted to be those fingers so damn bad at that moment.

Then he looked at you again. There was such a deep hunger in those eyes that would look beautifully between your legs, brown hair falling messily into his sight as he ate you out.

Meanwhile, Thranduil's fingers inside you moved harder and faster, curling to brush every sensitive spot of your walls, in, out, in, another curl, and then out.

You clenched your entrance in anticipation, the feeling of two of his fingers filling you this deliciously and continuously.

You were so so close, almost there–

"Shit, you're the sweetest. I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow"

The abrupt halt of the cab barely registered for you; instead, it finally propelled you over the edge.

Thranduil's precise movement hit that spot inside you perfectly, crooking his fingers just right to brush against it. Combined with Bard's downright filthy promise, you nearly let out a scream as the powerful orgasm surged through you and you had to flex your muscles so you didn't continue riding his hand.

Thranduil, however, didn't stop, even though there was no way he didn't know you climaxed and he kept up the same pace, same fucking precision and pressure that your body convulsed around those long talented fingers and you couldn't even go anywhere, the seatbelt cut off your escape to the front and you were so far into the seat that wasn't an option as well, and it took a soft broken whimper, for words were long lost, for Thranduil to press a kiss to your neck before he sucked his fingers dry.

Your legs were still shaking as the elevator took you up to the penthouse at the top of the skyscraper the cab had stopped in front of.

Four mirrors gave you a splendid view of Bard's broad back as he crowded you against one of the walls, his thick fingers down your jeans again, as he mouthed hot kisses onto your neck.

"Gonna have to work you open," Bard grunted, his slippery fingers curling inside your cunt in a sinful squelch that sounded absurdly loud in the confined space of the elevator. "You're really too tight, don't wanna hurt you"

Thranduil watched the whole scene leaning at the railing, hands curled around the pole behind him as his hips twitched whenever you let out another whimper; your hands trying to get a hold on his husband's shoulders.

The ride was far too short, Bard's fingers not fast enough for you to reach another peak though the constant movement kept your head in such a nice empty mindless space that you didn't complain.

As soon as the doors opened Thranduil led the way, sauntering into the darkness illuminated by the first exploding fireworks. He pulled on the tie holding his hair up and flung it away let his hair flow down his back, ending just barely over his exquisite arse.

You didn't get to see much of the penthouse, all three of you were very eager to take this party finally somewhere comfortable and you only made out a giant white couch in front of a fireplace, an open kitchen with two glasses, one crystal with golden stains of whiskey, and the other high, the rim still dripping red wine, and a few bookshelves.

"You can get the full tour tomorrow," Bard said while you two kicked away your shoes, leaving them behind on the dark wooden parquet.

You stumbled over his left sneaker and halted in your tracks at the offer. While you had considered his promise of breakfast a spur-of-the-moment chit-chat, it now settled in your head that this wouldn't be like any one-nightstand you had in the past.

This observation only solidified as Bard caught your hand and raised it to press an open-mouthed kiss to your palm. "Do you need anything before we go into the bedroom? Any wishes or no-gos? Safeword?"

"Red," you immediately answered, and he nodded in acknowledgment, "and no, well– maybe hold me a bit afterward?" You blushed at the question though this should be the least embarrassing thing after all these two did to you in the span of a few hours. You continued to ramble, "And sometimes I cry, so.. you don't have to stop then. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but you can continue your.. thing. Don't bother, I'll be fine on my own–"

Bard's eyebrows scrunched together the more you babbled, the look in his eyes becoming more confused until he shushed you with a quick kiss.

"Darlin', there is no need to explain what you want or don't want. If this is what you need then we won't question those demands," his eyes wandered over your face, making sure you were listening; which you were, heart pounding fast in your chest.

"And it's important you don't push yourself just because of us. It's not our intention to use you for a simple release. Thranduil and I don't take whoever is the first best, especially not to our home. We're looking for someone who suits us, with whom we feel completely comfortable and that should also be equally important to you."

You trusted them both, Bard as well as Thranduil.

The fact that Bard was asking you, nevertheless listening and responding to you was feeding something very primal.

They had done this before, unlike you. They had experience in this, but you were willing to learn, to submit yourself to these imposing men who surely would change something inside you forever.

The pride you felt at his admission of choosing you specifically mingled with the need to get this perfect man inside you quickly, especially now that he said such meaningful and reassuring words.

You nodded and croaked out a soft: "Alright, then please hold me after we're done" which he rewarded with another soft yet sensual kiss.

"Good girl"

Then his hands traveled south and slapped your ass so that your hips flew towards him.

"Now, let's not keep Thran waiting any longer. He tends to get a bit… impatient if left on his own for too long, as you've probably noticed."

Bratty.

You were so on the money earlier.

With that as well as the guess that the blonde was more kinky than the vanilla of his perfume.

At that moment the deep voice of his called out from down the hall.

"I swear, if you two started without me, I will fuck you until neither of you can walk for a week!"

Bard chuckled, then caught your widened eyes.

"He's joking," he said and you let out a relieved breath.

Bard pulled you along, a wink thrown over his shoulder.

"Mhm, partly; he won't fuck me tonight."

You needed a deep breather to ready yourself for what was about to happen, then you nearly tripped over your own feet as you raced after him through the dark hallway and to the only opened door.

You crashed fully into Bard, who for whatever reason, stood right in the doorframe of their bedroom.

"It seems Thranduil got tired of waiting," he chuckled and you wondered what he could mean when he turned sideways.

Your eyes instantly fell onto Thranduil, spread out on the enormous bed in the corner of the room– completely naked except for black, very tight boxers.

There was no air in your lungs, not a single breath left to take as you drank in the sight of him, fair and marble skin shining in the moonlight that fell through the big window next to the bed; the remaining glitter gave his body an unearthly glow. His hair fanned out all over the pillows, silver against grey, moving with him as he lazily lifted his head to stare at you.

There was an indescribable beauty in this man, he could lounge in the bed, his long legs opened in an invitation that you yearned to take, and his lean yet softly defined body posed as if he was waiting for someone to draw him.

"There you are," the corner of his mouth twitched into his smirk, "Strip"

His words, spoken in a gentle tone, boomed loud in your ears.

Your hands flew to your jeans in no second, though they were stopped by Bard, who covered them with his larger, rougher ones.

"No, Darlin', let me"

He stood behind you, taking over the job of undressing you. He did it much slower than you would have, not ripping everything apart in a hurry to obey the command of the blonde whose eyes were heavy on your body, taking in every bit of skin that got revealed.

Bard unbuttoned your jeans first, then his large and warm hands rubbed over your arms.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "No, not cold. I– I feel like I'm burning up"

It was the truth, and nothing but the full, honest truth; you felt as hot as you did in the club, though the reason wasn't the hundreds of people and the alcohol but rather the sight of Thranduil, whose hands trailed over his own body and teasingly played with the waistband of his underwear.

Bard followed your fixated gaze to his coyly smiling husband.

"Should we turn down the heating? We would not want you melting away," Thranduil blinked his long lashes at you in faux-concern. He must've known the goosebumps covering your skin were his doing.

You would've rolled your eyes if you were able to look somewhere else than Thranduil. The man had to be magical, how else could you explain the spell he put you under if not for some supernatural powers?

"Stop the teasing, Thran," Bard cut in, slipping his hands under your shirt and kissing your shoulder. You melted into his touch, comforted that he took care of you like this when he continued, "This poor sweet thing hasn't even all her clothes off. It would be a shame to make her blush like this and not see it"

"Oh, and who's fault is that? Certainly not mine, I have been waiting so long I was close to wrapping things up myself"

Bard pulled your shirt over your head, covering your sight long enough for a wave of braveness to surge through you. "I sure hope you wrap it up," you said and heard both of them snicker.

"Do not worry," Thranduil began.

"There is enough protection for weeks," Bard finished and the band of your bra snapped against your skin.

Despite the warmness of the room your nipples puckered as soon as the lace fell away, growing hard under the avid eyes, cerulean and green, so different yet similar in the way both are dominated by the blackness of their pupils.

Bard's hands came up to your front and he cupped your breasts first tenderly, mapping out how perfectly they fit into his large palm, then rougher as his fingers found the hard buts of your nipples and rubbed them between them until every pinch had your legs trembling and you whimpering.

You cried out, body bucking on its own.

"Oh how nice," Thranduil's comment was full of sarcasm, followed by a click of his tongue against teeth, "Why, let me lay here and play all on your own, why not? After all, I am nothing but pure decoration"

Bard huffed a puff of hot air onto you, "Grow a pair of tits like this and maybe I will get to you first"

Thranduil's dark eyebrows raised to his hairline, passing an unspoken threat that had Bard scoff before he grabbed the waistband of your jeans. He pulled them down slowly, getting on his knees as he did and you were acutely aware of how wet your panties were when you feel his lips kiss your ass.

"This must be uncomfortable," he murmured, holding one leg to help you step out of the jeans. He kneaded your thigh, fingertips against muscles and flesh, before moving on to do the same on your other leg.

He used the moment where you lifted the second leg, to dive his hand to your cunt again, dragging his knuckles over the dark-colored patch, and he laughed as you buckled into the touch. "Oh, the fun we'll have"

Finally, undressed to your panties that cling to your crotch like a second skin, you were free to walk toward the bed. You would've lied if you said you didn't swing your hips a little bit, relishing the raspy groan this evoked from Bard.

Feeling like you should await further commands you stopped (un)patiently when your knees hit the mattress.

Thranduil's lips curved into a devilish smirk at this sign of submission.

He let his legs fall open wider, waving in an elegant gesture into the space in between. "Come here, sweetheart"

The bed was raised and you rose to your tiptoes and, making sure your eyes were trained on Thranduil, you crawled over the mattress, knees digging into the silk duvet he had promised you.

He reached out as soon as he could, one hand curving around your neck to pull and you landed directly on him, legs spread on either side of his thighs, hands somehow, despite their nervous trembling, found their place against his collarbones, standing out from his broad chest rather delicate.

Not that you hadn't suspected and expected him to be big, but, fuck, he was long and hard, a pulsing pressure against your stomach.

"Be a good girl and remove this unnecessary fabric, will you?" Thranduil whispered and you scrambled to lose your panties, throwing them off into the distance only to turn again and find him smirking. "I meant my boxers, but it fills me with joy seeing you this eager"

Lowering your head to hide your laughter, you grabbed his boxers. He lifted his hips just barely for you to pull on the black boxers, rolling them over his tight ass, and after giving you a loving pat on the head, he crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillows.

His cock sprung free from the containment of the tight boxers, twitching as it hit his abdomen and you felt your throat dry out.

Of course, he was smooth everywhere; not one bit of hair covering the flushed beauty of him.

You sat up, hands pushed into his flexing thighs, to take him all in. No one should look this perfect, this utterly ridiculously beautiful, right? There should be something on him, a scar, a mole, anything to prove he wasn't straight-up carved out of marble, but you found nothing.

You glared at him as you sat down a bit lower, ass in the air, and spit into your hand before you wrapped it around his cock. The sight of his size had your mouth water, and seeing how your fingers couldn't meet had your cunt clench around nothing.

No way any of their preparation had been enough for this intimidating masterpiece of Mother Nature's creation.

"Tell me, how is it fair that you are rich and have a dick like that?" you asked and just as Thranduil opened his pretty lips for probably another witty answer, you interrupted him by letting his cock slide over your tongue deep into your throat until you gagged around him.

Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten.

Instead, Thranduil groaned a low: "Fuck" and threw his head back.

You wanted to see him come undone, to unravel him until he lost this bratty attitude and reduce him to that wild behavior he had shown in the club.

You had the feeling that that's only possible if he thought he had the upper hand.

You bobbed your head, taking him a bit past what you could manage without gagging before lifting your head again.

"Use me," you said and his eyes flew open.

"What?"

Cocking your head, you shot him a confused look, while spreading his precum over the head of his cock with your thumb. "I said," – you spit again, mixing it and coating his dick further – "Fuck - my - mouth"

Every word was punctuated with a kiss to his slit, and you swore you could see his eyes darken further; black taking over blue – desire fought whatever held him back to fucking give into whatever you offered.

Behind you, Bard swore nearly breathlessly: "Fuck me" though you stayed focused on Thranduil.

"Are you sure?" his voice was raw, his facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't"

His hand was behind your head in seconds, drawing you down his cock again and you opened your mouth wide to not hurt him. He pushed you down until you choked on him and although your eyes watered, you couldn't take them away from the sight of his mouth and the low throaty groans that passed the opened lips.

The lack of air cut off your moan, the tip of his cock bullying the back of your throat just barely short of painful. Reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you inhaled deeply.

"Good girl," Thranduil's hips bucked, pulling back until he was only half-lodged in your throat, "Just like that, fuck"

He gave an experimental thrust, keeping his sharp eyes on you, his hand in your neck, ready to stop if he saw any discomfort, but all you showed him was how you choked on spit and salty precum.

"Oh, you sweet girl. Behaving so well," his voice was ruined, and he thrusted again, punching away the little breath left in the tiniest space that wasn't occupied by his thick cock.

This was by far the first time you have ever given a blowjob, but it was a first to let someone use you like this. Controlling when you could suck or when you just had to take what he gave you.

And oh– how much you loved it.

So much that you wanted to rub your thighs together only to be stopped by rough hands grabbing them.

A confused sound left you, no more than a choked "Huh?" vibrating around Thranduils cock continuing to fuck into you, just like you had asked him, hindering you from turning to see what Bard was up to.

He didn't leave you wondering for long, just as Thranduil's thrusts took on a sharper edge, hitting the back of your throat every time, filling your mouth like no man ever had, Bard's flattened tongue licked through your exposed cunt and the moan you let out sounded so pornographic you surprised yourself.

"Do it again," Thranduil took in the sight of your wet lips, the drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth, his cock disappearing so deep inside you that felt him in your lungs, "Fuck, Bard, do that again now!–"

He talked for you, praising Bard as he licked your pussy again, this time using his fingers to pry you open further and there was the delicious scratch of his beard stubbles, burning on your skin.

You cried out, tried to do, stopped by Thranduils cock stuffing your mouth again and again, his hands curled around your neck as if he wanted to feel the imprint of himself pushing through.

"Prettiest woman out there," Thranduil groaned. His thump reached over to stuff some of the spit back into your mouth, opening your jaw up impossibly wide.

Bard's tongue was as precise as their fingers have been, covering your folds, fucking into your hole and sucking on your clit with expertise that no man should be allowed to have. Two of his wet fingers slid into you while his tongue mercilessly attacked your clit, the other hand buried itself in the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and pulling, opening you up further for his face.

"C'mon," his voice was muffled by your thighs, drowning you in his accent while he drowned his tongue inside your opening, circling the rim in maddening figures, "Give me one more, gorgeous."

Electricity flowed through your body, hot tingles of nothing but fire spreading into your fingertips wrapped around the inches of Thranduil's cock that didn't fit into your mouth, to your nipples that brushed against his muscular thighs.

"Fuck Bard, please–"

Not sure what you were begging for, for his tongue to stop the attack on your clit, for his fingers constantly finding that spot inside your spongy walls that had you wailing and rolling your hips into his face, or for him to get on with it and get you over that build-up.

Bard kept going, somehow finding a rhythm that matched the one his husband hammered down your throat and you were helplessly stuck trying to hold on.

Until you lost the fight to keep yourself upright. Your hands slipped on Thranduil's thighs, your body crashed down and if it wouldn't have been for his quick reaction of pulling himself out of you, you would for sure have impaled your head on his still hard and throbbing cock.

Instead, it just wetly slapped your face as you collapsed into his lap.

Bard's rough hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he maneuvered your legs around to give his head more space.

The other pair of hands, soft, delicate, Thranduil's, cupped your face, lifting it gently yet demanding, giving him the perfect view of your cute face, all scrunched up as you gasped and mewled, and your backside, ass arched into the air under Bard's commanding hands.

"Such a beautiful thing," Thranduil mused.

His fingers danced over your cheeks until he used another whine, another desperate moan when Bard alternated between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue, to slip his thumb into your mouth.

As soon as he did, you closed your lips around him. Staring up at him, begging him silently for a release only Bard could give you, you started sucking on his finger as you would have done on his cock if not for the stars dancing in your field of vision.

Thranduil tutted, "So needy as well. Bard, if you were so kind as to stop, I can not stand seeing her this distraught. I think you are working her up far too much"

"Nooo! Please, please, I'm alright, I'm– please, so close," The desperate scream that came out of your mouth at his words was probably loud enough to alert the neighbors, followed by a cry and sob as Bard kissed your clit one last time.

"Of course, babe" The words were muffled, spoken directly into your dripping cunt.

Which he then shuffled away from, beard stubble scratching you, his fingers letting loose on your thighs.

"No, no please, please," you were already babbling, reaching behind you in a sad effort to force him back between your legs, "Please, I'll be good, please!"

"You sweet thing," Thranduils arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you up into a kiss, "I think–" his voice dropped deeper and you heard the rustle of plastic, felt Bard's hand rolling the condom over Thranduil's cock pressing into your stomach, "–you have behaved so well, you deserve a reward"

You nodded fast, legs spread wide apart sitting on his thighs and your cunt stretched open.

Staring into his eyes, you saw how much his pupils were dilated, how he only watched you, only saw you.

You could see and feel his chest lift as his cock slid through your folds, finding you drenched from all their playing around.

"Eyes stay on me"

Your pussy was wet enough for the tip of his cock to slip right into you and right away you wanted to shut your eyes at the sensation of him spearing you open.

"Please–," you gasped, and tried to move your hips to get more of him into you than just those few inches, but he didn't budge, didn't loosen his grip on your waist, "Please, Thranduil. Green, my color is green, fuck me, I can take it!"

"Yes, and if not," his voice was back to the self-controlled powerful tone, "I'll make you take it, sweetheart."

Thranduil let go of you the second he snapped his hips upwards and suddenly, you were split open.

You keened as his cock sunk into you in one fast, swift, hard movement. There was a burn, in your thighs as you flexed them, in your throat as you cried out, in your pussy at the intrusion of his long cock.

When Thranduil bottomed out, his head shoved against your cervix, the whole length forcing you to stretch, to make room, and fuck you wanted your pussy to be carved into the shape of that perfect cock.

It should've been uncomfortable, but you only groaned as you appreciated the second he gave you to relax while making room where they shouldn't be some.

"Fuck–" he moaned, "you are tight, so fucking tight"

Bard moved next to you, and you could only get one short look at his naked body, the brown hair coating his muscular chest, the happy trail leading down to his thick cock, before Thranduil began to fuck you.

His strokes were fast, hips snapping into you and nearly throwing you off his lap at the speed and brute force and you fell into his chest, clinging to his arms.

This, him rutting into you like your pussy could quench a year-long thirst at a punishing pace, this was surely the epitome of getting fucked. How he knew how to fuck you just right, hitting your g-spot with every single thrust was a riddle you couldn't and wouldn't want to solve; not with his cock penetrating you hard enough you swore you felt him in your throat as you called for him through moans.

You had no chance of even trying to meet his thrusts, not while he pounded into you like a madman.

"F-Fuck, good fucking girl– so tight," Thranduil groaned out his gritted teeth, his face turning a beautiful shade of rosé, "Even tighter than you, Bard–"

Bard, you totally forgot he was even there, laughed and moved on the bed again, slipping back behind you, "Yeah? Tell me more"

And you wanted to scream, to yell at them to stop talking in words that only added to the overstimulation, that spun around your head without meaning because how could anything have ever any meaning more important that Thranduil's cock fucking you a little further, a little deeper.

"So tight, s-so hot, clamping down on me like this sweet, fuck, pussy doesn't want me to leave"

"Mhm, I can see that," Bard hummed and his hands caressed your shaking thighs, before leaving his mark on your ass with a soft slap that had you wailing into Thranduil's shoulder.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

You were going to lose your mind like this, fucked to near-unconsciousness.

"More, I–" your speech was slurred, brain scrambled into loose words hanging onto thin threads.

You tried to hold on to Thranduil but it was impossible with your sweat and the glitter covering him.

Luckily for you, Bard found the time to stop ever kindly toying with the pearl of your clit to lean forward.

"Put them inside his hair, Darlin'. He doesn't mind" There was a lopsided smirk on his face that you could barely see out of the corners of your eyes.

You still hadn't stopped looking at Thranduil.

The attempt to tentatively guide your hands to his head was prevailed by another particular hard thrust, and your fingers slid through blonde locks, grabbing onto them as you fell back down on Thranduil's cock.

You tugged on them much harsher than intended.

Thranduil's eyes blew wide.

You wanted to apologize when his lips quivered and his hips snapped into yours even faster.

Quickly you reached for him again, nails scraping his scalp as you readjusted, gripping more, much tighter.

"That's it, Darlin'.. that's my girl," Bard leaned back, and not shortly after his fingers were back on your clit, tapping intact of Thranduil's thrusts.

It was only a matter of seconds until the pleasure became too much.

Thranduil's hips fell into a stutter as your walls clenched around him; even for someone with his stamina the heat of you surrounding him, and your sweet moans drove him into a raging need to imprint the shape of his cock inside you.

"F-fuck.. Thran–" you whimpered, hands fisting his hair, trying to get a literal grip as reality started to shift around you.

Outside, close to the windows, there was a whistle as the first of many fireworks greet the New Year and just as Thranduil pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking and tensing up as you screamed his name, the darkness of the sky exploded into an arrangement of thousands of colors.

The white fuzziness that enveloped your vision transformed into creeping darkness at the edges.

Your eyelids closed shut as you descended into blissful oblivion.

When you came back to yourself, it was to the murmur of deep voices mixed into the loud bangs of fireworks.

For a moment you had no idea where you were, enveloped in a haziness inside your mind, but the gentle nudge of something against your lips forced you to open your eyes.

There were two faces very close to yours, was the first realization.

Then, following up, you let out a giggle.

"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," you greedily took a sip from the water bottle that the very flushed blonde held in his hands.

"You said it was possible you would cry, not bloody pass out on Thran's dick!" Bard wiped the drops you couldn't swallow away from the corner of your mouth with one hand and continued to rub your thighs with his others.

You hadn't noticed they were still shaking.

"Yeah, that never happened before," you shot a smirk up to Thranduil, "Never had a guy fuck me like this as well"

He snorted into the bottle of water, "Believe me, I never had someone lose their consciousness on me before as well. I came shortly after you and when I opened my eyes to find you completely out of it I nearly passed out on the spot as well"

"Would have been quite a shock for you," you said and let your head fall to the side to look at Bard, "both of us orgasm into fainting"

"Not funny, Darlin'," Bard warned, though he laughed as you stuck his tongue out at him.

Stretching your hands over your head and raking them into the air until your bones cracked, you sighed happily. Blissfulness was all you felt after cumming harder than you ever had.

For the first time, you could really enjoy the sight of both men in the nude, you hadn't had the chance to appreciate how fit Bard was while Thranduil had fucked you and you reached out to run your hands over his chest. Twirling some of the hair on there, traveling lower to scratch nails down his happy trail like a route description straight to his still-hard cock.

Stopping shortly before his pubic hair, you glanced up at him, a coy smile playing your lips. "You haven't cum yet." It was much a purr as it was an invitation, your legs falling open right when Bard's hand came to a still on your thighs.

He shook his head, chestnut hair swaying with the movement. "No, Darlin', no! You just passed out. I won't force myself on you. Thran can suck me off or I'll take care of it myself if you want to rest"

Your heart contracted in adoration for this man, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of you.

"Bard," you said, voice wavering as you suppressed a whimper. Somehow this turned you on even more, "Bard, there is enough time to be this caring later but please–" Once again you were begging, and the man wasn't even inside of you yet, "please fuck me"

On the other side of you, Thranduil chuckled, "Insatiable, I knew it. Bard is right though, if you are not well, then he can fuck me"

Slowly but surely you were losing your patience.

As sweet as their concern was, the fact that these two gods were both sitting naked in front of you, one sweaty because he just knocked you out, and the other hard as steel and flushed, only aroused that much more.

Without saying anything else, you maneuvered yourself in the bed until you could rest your head on Thranduil's stretched legs and angled your legs in an invitation.

"Come on you stud. It's the new year after all"

The brunette scanned you with a piercing gaze, you could see him struggling with himself, but the twitch of his cock told you what he'd decided before he nodded.

"Thran, condom please"

You giggled again, excitement and the need to be catapulted to new heights spreading warmly in your stomach.

As Bard put the condom on, you wiggled around, your hand on the move to beat time, but Thranduil reached over you.

He caught your wrist before you reached your center, grasping it with his much larger hand and pulling your arm back with him enough that it forced your shoulders up, a "Tze, tze, tze" admonishing the behavior.

"Impatient brat, make up your mind!" he hissed and tugged some more until you whined, "Feel free to use those pathetic little fingers, knowing they will never fill you the way Bard could" Now that Thranduil knew you were on the same page, his voice dropped into that rebuking tone that left you whining and pouting.

He was so good, so fucking mean in the right amount you never knew you needed a man to act in bed.

"I just wanted–"

"I know baby," he cooed, and patted your cheek, "you just need your cunt to be filled, right? Just need to be stuffed full. Bard will do that for you, no need to worry your pretty head about it"

"That's right, Darlin'," Bard shuffled in between your legs, hooking them both over his thighs as he leaned over you. His cock landed on your abdomen, pressing against your pulsating clit, "Tell me what you want," he grabed himself, guiding it slowly toward where you leaked for him, completely drenched from the orgasms they had already given to you.

"I can go slow, or I can go fast"

You contemplated for a moment and lift the free hand to stroke over his handsome face. His beard tickled the inside of your palm, the chestnut waves silky as the sheets.

"Slow," you whispered, "I want you slow first"

"Alright," he gently nudged his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Although you were still sensitive, still pulsing and throbbing due to Thranduil (who caressed your face and your neck, having let to of your hand to arrange the pillows in his back for more comfort), you relished the stretch and sting of Bard as he guided his cock into you.

He was thicker than Thranduil, not by much but that inch made itself known, splitting you open heavenly so. You gasped into the kiss, giving up the fight of tongues to swallow back the drool that collected the further Bard pushed inside you.

It's just a little bit, one inch at a time, but you cried out all the same.

The thrum of excitement pulses, leaves you trembling and begging in incoherent moans and whimpers.

You could feel him throbbing inside you.

"Good girl," Thranduil's praise washed over you, chilled fingers tweaking one of your nipples as a reward for the exhausted smile you gifted him at that, "Has anyone ever told you that you make just the sweetest sounds? Give me one more?"

He twisted your other nipple; you moaned again.

"Fuck, Thran, you were so right," Bard grunted, his fingernails digging into where he held you by the waist, leaving crescent moon-shaped imprints that you hoped wouldn't fade for a while, "She's fuckin' tight; how are you still this tight?"

"For you," you fisted your hands into his hair again, hoping he enjoyed it just as much as his husband, "J-just for you, everything, ngh– for you"

With one last push, he sheated himself in you completely, filling you up just like Thranduil told you he would, stretching your walls thin.

You felt him everywhere, in every part of your body.

Every nerve, every tendon, every cell burns and was lit aflame, sizzling hot fire licking your skin and bursting when he dragged himself out, leaving barely the tip and pushed back in.

His cock nestled deep inside you, Bard stilled.

There was a silent vigilance in his mesmerizing green eyes. "Talk to me beautiful, is this alright?"

You nodded and pulled him down on his hair into another kiss. "Yes, god, yes"

That's all he needed to hear and while licking over your lips, entangling your tongue with his playfully, he set a slow rhythm. Nevertheless the tempo, he brushed that spot inside you with every stroke.

Pins and needles all over your skin, goosebumps wherever Thranduil's fingers wandered.

There were more fireworks, lightening up the bedroom filled with gasps and grunts, whispers of encouragement and begging. The sound of Bard's hips snapping into yours, the wet squelch of his cock driving itself inside of your pussy again and again.

"There we go," he murmured and positioned his arms on either side of you, using the balance it gives him to roll his hips instead of just thrusting. Mumbling between kisses, he talked against your lips: "Aren't you just the sweetest? Darlin', I couln' believe my eyes when I saw you in that club, shining far brighter than anyone else"

He swallowed your gasps with kisses, nipping at your lip then moved to your earlobe, "You are so perfect, letting us fuck you like this"

In one swift movement, he dragged Thranduil towards him, long blonde hair curling at the edges hanging into your vision in a starlight waterfall. Their kiss left you breathless and you would have felt left out if Thranduil didn't lean down further to you, kissing your lips upside down.

This time it was his fingers that found your slick, poor and abused clit. A couple of firm circles had your hips bucking up to meet Thranduil's fingers, crying out for both men in a mix of their names.

You whimpered as the next orgasm build up fucking fast, your breath catching in your throat.

"Bard," your hips moved on their own, trying to get him to fuck you faster, "Please– more, I need m-more,"

"Darlin'," Bards forehead pressed against yours, his grunts strained as if he was holding back himself but kept the same and steady pace you asked him for, "You sure?"

Grabbing his hair again, you weaved your fingers through it, tousling it haphazardly, achieving nothing but adding to its wild appearance.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes were fixed on you, it felt electric and charged, akin to lightning, causing you to momentarily forget to breathe.

"Yes"

He obeyed instantly, with the next thrust you screamed at the pure force of it. Bard wa spiraling the same way you were, becoming erratic as his teeth grazed over your collarbone, biting every mark they have left on you.

Raising your legs to keep him close, your ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into the tight muscles of his ass. The new angle allowed him to drive impossibly deep, reaching pleasure points inside you you didn't knew existed before him.

The pleasure was blinding, high electricity running through your veins and into every part of your body and soul. This was nothing you have ever experienced before, not with anyone and they made sure it would never feel like this with anyone ever.

Bard, feeling how your walls clenched around him, fluttering and pulsating, begging him to stay inside, sucked on your nipple, hard.

"I need you to come, fuck. Let me feel this pussy come, I'm right there with you," he rasped, voice like gravel, leaving you to scream for him, head knocking into Thranduil's legs, who dared to add to the crescendo of your pleasure and pressed down on your clit.

You found yourself gripping the bed covers, fingers twisting, in an attempt to anchor yourself, sobbing and shaking.

Instead, the coil inside you snapped.

Soaking Bard's cock choking and sobbing, tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes as every limp of you tensed up, he pushed you over the edge, his moans in your ear the most erotic thing.

You felt Bard following you, felt him spilling inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of you as he reached his peak moaning and burying himself to the deepest point, hips flushed close against yours, still rolling and shoving into you.

Moments of silence and heavy breathing followed. Of broken sobs, hushed murmurs of praise, even more affirmations.

Thranduil scootched closer to you, laying down next to you while Bard's weight on top of you was just what you needed. The heaviness of his much larger frame and Thranduil's long arms wrapped around you held back the cold that threatened to take a hold of you as the shivers of pleasure subsided.

"Gods," Bard exhaled, chest moving, pressing more into you. "That was something"

"Happy New Year" Thranduil rumbled.

Minutes passed, more fireworks exploded, celebrations of the New Year while you weren't even sure you even knew what time was anymore.

Bard tried to move, though your legs must have cramped for they felt disconnected to your body.

"Darlin'," he dropped another kiss to your neck, laughing low as your head lolled to the side.

"Mhm-mhm," you groaned, eyes still shut close, "Stay"

His lips moved to your ear, continuing to bathe you in soft kisses that leave you floating in that blissful headspace. "I know, I know–"

Thranduil's hands cupped your face, caressing your glowing cheeks and wiped away the loose tears that rolled over them. "Aftercare first, then cuddling," he whispered and cradled your head, massaging the spot in your neck that started to ache after Bard had folded you in half.

Despite knowing he was right, that you needed to use the bathroom, the warmth their bodies provided held you back.

You whined, arching your back into Bard's chest as he pried your legs away and slowly pulled himself out of you, stopping when your hips twitched at the overstimulation and only continued after a soothing kiss.

As soon as he left to stand up, tying up the used condom and going into the ensuite bathroom, Thranduil's steady hands on your back helped you sit up on the edge of the bed, where he wrapped the covers around your shoulders and gently tapped your nose, before scratching his nails over your head.

"You did very well, sweetheart," One finger tipped your chin up. "Thank you, you are a wonderful partner."

Thranduil, crouched to your level in front of you, still naked as the day he was born, simply picked you up. Legs folded over one arm, your head fell against his glittery chest that was covered in red streaks of where your nails had scratched him.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up"

The afterglow of the very much fantastic sex lulled all three of you in a comfort that blurred the barriers of you being a stranger in their home, laughter and giggles as the shower washed away sweat and glitter.

While there was a liveness to massaging soap into hair, hands rubbing away soreness and splashing water around until the mirror was all but fogged up and steam filled the entire bathroom, the exhaustion of the night caught up close after Thranduil dressed you in one of Bard's large sweaters.

Smelling like wood shavings, pine and toothpaste, hair still damp and eyes dropping close even though you tried to stay awake, Thranduil carried you to the bed.

The sheets were changed, encasing you in laundry detergent and brushing against your naked legs as you let yourself be placed on the pillows.

Outside, the world still celebrated and you did as well, in your own way.

There was a shuffle, a murmur of voices, then the bed dipped on either side as Bard climbed to your right side and Thranduil to your left, leaving not much room between all of you, legs entangling with each other, more giggling until everyone lied down comfortably.

Face tugged under Bard's chin, one arm of his reaching over your head so that Thranduil could nestle his face into it and the blonde wrapped around your back, you were surrounded by something you couldn't put into words.

"Maybe– maybe you can stay for breakfast and lunch," Bard's low words were murmured with a deep sigh, his other hand sliding down under his sweater, resting just below where your heart sung contenly.

"And dinner," Thranduil added and you heard him kiss Bard's hand.

"No talky-talky," you snuggled your face deeper into Bard, nose bumping into his neck, "But I would like that, very much"

Just as you fell asleep, held tightly by them both, you could hear them exchange quiet I love you's and you smiled, feeling their love seep deep into your bones.

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw -Part Two: Victory.

Part One

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika x Reader.

Rating: E for explicit sex.

Word count: 7.2k.

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

Your apartment is a moderate walk from The Last Drop; not too far to make the commute unbearable, but long enough that Sevika is able to walk off the last of her buzz on the journey over. (She’s secretly grateful for the jaunt, because the last thing she wants is to go into what’s coming with anything less than perfect clarity of mind.) Your unit is tucked into a series of samey, stone-faced, grime-coated buildings, near the halfway point between the Lanes and Entresol.

Even better, it’s about fifteen minutes from her apartment. She tucks that tidbit of information away for later as she follows you up two flights of wrought iron stairs.

When asked why you picked your particular unit, you shrug and slide your key into the lock. “Quiet.” You open the door, then motion with one hand for her to step inside first. “Private. Decent enough neighbors.”

Sevika shrugs in response, hanging back in the entryway until you turn on a light. “Good enough reasons as any.”

Your apartment is small –a single, sparsely furnished studio with one solitary window that boasts a splendid view of the side of the neighboring building and the metal fire escape stairs. A light, covered with a cracked glass diffuser, hangs in the center of the room. On the far wall, next to the window, is a galley kitchen with wooden cabinets. A bed, stacked atop a few pallets, is tucked against the wall opposite the kitchen –and it is, certainly, bigger than hers. There’s a wooden table and a single chair between the bed and the kitchen. A chipped dresser rests at the foot of the bed. There’s a door near the entryway that boasts a glimpse of a tiled floor and the reflective flash of a mirror on the wall –a bathroom.

Oh, honey. She can’t really judge. She remembers what it was like when she got her first place. Her job had paid shit, and her apartment had looked like shit in return.

Your place, however, is conspicuously clean. There’s no trace of dust anywhere. No dishes left to fester in the sink. The counters and floors are immaculately tidy. Even your bed is perfectly made. The coat you use during the colder months hang on a hook next to the door, and your spare pair of boots sit on a mat beneath your coat.

In sum, it’ll hardly be the worst place she’ll ever fuck in.

“It’s not–” You purse your lips, then duck your head and look away from her. “I don’t –I’m not…” You swallow hard, then mumble, “Not so good at decorating.”

“That’s fine.” She hooks her fingers through your belt loops, then tugs you until you’re forced to face her. When your gaze stays glued to the floor, she murmurs, “Baby, look at me.” It takes a few long moments, but when you finally look her in the eye, she says, “It doesn’t bother me. Okay?”

Something dark and flighty clears from your eyes. You lift your chin, lower your shoulders, then reach behind you and finish closing the door to your apartment. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now–” you turn away briefly to lock the deadbolt and slide the security chain into place “–but uh…” You swallow, then laugh quietly. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve been doing great so far.” Warmth unfurls in her gut when you perk up at the praise. She smirks, then uses her grip on your belt loops to gently draw you further into your apartment. “And I don’t mind taking things slow.” She grins when your gaze flicks from her eyes, to her mouth, to her chest, then back to her eyes. “Might make things more straightforward if I ask you a few questions, though.”

You nod. “Shoot.”

“You ever get yourself off?”

You laugh –a proper, real laugh that makes your eyes crinkle around the corners. Tension melts from your shoulders, and your face lights up like the sun. “I’m not a nun.”

Sevika hums in understanding. She takes a few moments to savor the brightness on your face, then continues. “What do you like?” When you blink blankly, she clarifies, “When you’re touching yourself?”

“Uh…” You look away, eyes wide with confusion. Your brows draw together, and you huff before shrugging. “Getting off? I…”

“I meant how do you prefer to get yourself off?” Sevika interjects. “Toys, fingers, penetration–”

Your hackles rise before she even gets “penetration” all the way out. Your mouth creases into a tight grimace, and your jaw locks. You swallow hard, gazing locking on the floor as you take a deep, bracing breath. You shake your head. “Don’t like penetration.”

“Alright.” She lets go of your belt loops and smooths her hands over your hips in small, soothing circles. “That’s alright.” She waits until you glance at her, then smirks and arches one eyebrow suggestively. “Still leaves me with plenty of options.”

You let out a small, choked whimper.

She grins. “How do you like to touch yourself?”

“Um…” You swallow hard, then follow with dazed, uneven footsteps as she guides you towards your bed. Your eyes stay locked on her –her face, her mouth, her body. “With my fingers.”

“How many?”

“U-usually two.”

The heavy, dark weight of your gaze and your ragged panting makes her ache. She waits for a moment, watches as you wet your lips with your tongue, then asks, “Where do you use your fingers?”

You let out a shuddering breath. “On my clit.”

She grins wider, then goes in for the kill. “Good girl.”

You whine. Your knees nearly give out, and you slump partway against her. A few stitches on the seams of her pants pop when your hands clamp down on her hips. “Fucking hell –Sevika–”

She kisses you. She grips the contours of your waist to steady you both, then sets about plundering your mouth with her tongue.

You whimper into her mouth. Your hands migrate upwards, until they find the gap between the waistline of her trousers and the hem of her top. Greedy fingers press against her skin, mapping out every exposed inch, then edge higher still as you slide them beneath the bottom of her shirt.

She shudders, then breaks the kiss with a wet pop. She admires your kiss swollen, spit slick lips for a moment, then looks up and drinks in your wild, ravenous, lust-heavy eyes. “Mind if I run something by you?”

“Go for it,” you say, voice gone to gravel.

She grins and rubs her thumbs against your waist. “I want to get you in this bed…” She nudges you gently, then pivots when you move so that you’re standing against the bed and she has her back to your kitchen. “I want to get you out of these clothes…” She presses on your shoulders, then clambers onto the bed and straddles your lap when you drop down on your bed. She winds her arms around your neck and looks you in the eye. “And then I want to use my mouth on you until you forget your name.” She smirks when your mouth falls open. “How’s that sound?”

“Yes.”

She chuckles, then kisses you again. She hums with approval when you grab her ass, then slides one hand into your hair. She tugs, then grins when you groan. “You didn’t quite answer my question, sweetheart.” She has to bite back a laugh when you look up at her with dopey, slightly glazed over eyes. “If there’s something you don’t want –or do want–then I want to hear about it.”

You swallow audibly, gaze locked on hers. “I –I like the sound of everything you said.” You slide your hands up her sides, callused fingers catching on the rough material of her shirt. You admire her body for a long moment, tracking the journey of your hands, then look back up at her. “Can –can you get undressed, too?”

She smiles and nods. “Sounds good to me.”

You exhale shakily, then lick your lips. “I want to get you off, too.”

Her smile sharpens with smugness and anticipation. “That’s fine by me.” She strokes her fingers through your hair, and her heart flutters when you sigh contently. “What else do you like?”

“I–” You shiver when her fingers graze over your scalp. “I like it when you touch me.”

She smirks. Easy enough. She drags her fingers down the nape of your neck. “What else?”

“Wh –when you–” You tip your head back to chase her touch. “When you tell me what to do. Makes me feel like I’m –like I’m not gonna fuck up.”

Like she was ever worried about that. “Guess it’s a good thing I like giving orders.” She smirks when you chuckle –but her mirth fades when she catches a slip in your expression. Your mouth pinches tight, and she sweeps her thumb over your cheek. “What is it?” Her eyes narrow when you duck your head and mutter under your breath, and she presses her fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until she can see your face. “Speak clearly, babygirl.”

You stare up at her with wide, glossy, reverent eyes. You swallow, jaw flexing, then breathe out, “I like –I like it when you tell me I’m good.”

Sevika grins. She’d already figured as much, but it’s so much more satisfying hearing you say it. “Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart.” She leans in, relishing how you tremble when she brushes her lips over your jaw. “Because you are so very…” She trails her lips down your neck, over your thundering pulse. “Very…” She licks the hollow of your throat, then finishes off with a graze of her teeth. “Good.”

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you moan. “Sevika–”

She presses her hands against your chest and pushes you back onto your bed. She follows you down, mouth attached to your neck, and murmurs a simple command into your skin. “Touch me.”

You do so quickly, ravenously. Your hands dig into her thighs and ass. You whimper into her mouth when she tightens her human hand in your hair, then your hips buck up against her when she tugs you head back and goes after your neck with her tongue. “Ohfuck!”

She plasters herself against you. Her tongue and lips and teeth trace over every inch of your neck, leaving no inch of skin unexplored. Arousal curls heavy in her gut as you shudder beneath her. She moans when you pull at her hips, causing her to grind against you. She rolls her hips against yours, then leans to one side and nips at your ear. “Good girl.”

A breathless whine leaves your lips. Your hands move up, up, up, until the tips of your fingers catch beneath the hem of her top.

She catches the hitch in your breath and pulls back to study your face.

You’re panting, lips slick with spit and kiss-swollen. Your gaze is locked in on the stripe of skin bared between her pants and her shirt. You drag your eyes up, over her chest, until you meet her own steady stare. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I… Is this okay?”

“It is,” she assures you. She leans back, then reaches for the bottom clasp of her shirt with her right hand. She holds her hand there, not making to start undoing the clasps (which are designed to be undone with one hand, since her left catches on fabric too easily). “But it’ll be more comfortable if I take it off.”

Your eyes go dark and wide at the suggestion. You swallow again –then, hesitantly, lift one hand until it joins hers. “...Can I?”

Sevika smiles and moves her hand away to give you more space to work with. “Sure.”

You go slowly, but your hands are surprisingly steady. Gaze almost reverent, you work your way up each clasp until her shirt hangs open, exposing more dark skin and the fabric of her bra. You swallow hard when she shucks her shirt off and tosses it aside, then thumb the elastic band of her bra. “Can –is it –would you–”

Sevika merely smirks, then pulls her bra off over her head. The fabric thwaps lightly against the floor when she tosses it away, and then she gazes down at you like the cat that got the canary. “Better?”

All that comes out of you is a faint, strangled squeak. Your eyes jump up and down as you valiantly try to avoid ogling, only to lower back to her exposed chest.

She chuckles, then cups your face with her right hand. “You’re allowed to look.” She smiles down at you when you let out a shaky breath –then grins, all teeth and sly satisfaction. “I’d rather you did, considering I’ve got my shirt off and all.”

“Geh.” You sputter, half-formed words and grunts tumbling out, until your eyes finally wander down and stay there.

Sevika watches, unabashedly proud, as your lips part in dazed rapture. She holds still, lets you study and admire her bare skin and breasts.

She’s not necessarily voluptuous, by any means. The sheer physical demands of her life over the years has lent itself to the development of hardened muscle, not supple fat. Years of food scarcity (and money scarcity, for that matter) also means she hasn’t had ample opportunity to glut herself like the pigs up Topside.

She’s strong. Her body does its job, and garners the attention and attraction she wants. As such, she doesn’t spend time fretting about being “pretty” or more conventionally shapely –a good thing, since the explosion left a great deal of scarring over the left side of her chest and ribs.

Beauty contests are overrated, anyways.

So, it takes her off guard when you stroke the side of her waist and murmur, “You’re so pretty, Sev.”

She blinks a few times, lips parted in surprise. Then, out of instinct more than anything else, she scoffs. “That’s what everyone says to gal with her tits out.”

“No –it’s not–” You plant your hands on her thighs, then stare beseechingly up at her. “That’s not it,” you insist. “You’re pretty, Sevika.” You lift one hand and stroke the swell of her cheek with your knuckles. “I think you’re so beautiful.”

Her stomach flips. She swallows, suddenly light-headed, then leans down and kisses you again.

Callused hands smooth over her skin once more; you’re greedy, mapping out her abdomen and back. But you stall when your fingers graze the underside of her breasts. Your breath hitches against her lips, and your hands go still.

Without breaking the kiss, she takes one of your hands and presses it to one of her breasts. Amusement flashes through her when you let out a choked whimper, but it’s short lived as your touch lights her up. Mirth quickly yields to pleasure; she presses into your tentative touch, then groans against your lips when you squeeze her tit experimentally.

Enthusiasm seems to be all the reassurance you need. Your other hand envelops her other breast, and you squeeze and knead her chest with surprising gentleness.

She sets her agenda aside for now. As much as she wants to strip you down and break you apart until you’re a slick, sobbing mess, she doesn’t want to override your curiosity or confidence. She groans when you roll her stiff nipples beneath your thumbs in tight, circular motions. “That’s it –fuck.” She grinds her hips down against yours to try and appease her aching cunt. “Good girl.”

You whimper when she drags her teeth along the length of your neck.

She wanders lower, down to the collar of your shirt –but freezes when you take your hands off her tits. She leans back when you prop yourself up on your elbows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you pant empathically. “I just–” You sit up, then shuck your shirt and bra off over your head in one swift movement. You toss the clothes onto the floor next to your bed. Trepidation flashes across your face the second after the garments thwap against the wooden floor. You slowly turn your head and look at her. “Is… is this okay?”

Sevika grins, slow and hungry. “This,” she murmurs as she drapes her right arm over your shoulder, “is very okay, sweetheart.”

The grin you flash at her in return is pure, giddy joy.

You’re built a lot like her. Big, strong, with scars and a few prison tattoos along your arms and shoulders.

The more analytical, tactical part of her mind notes you’ve put on weight since leaving Stillwater. Her mind harkens back to early days of training with you, then cleaning up after in the gym showers after. You’d still been big, and built, but she’d been able to see your ribs while you’d changed shirts. Now, you’ve filled out nicely. You look like you’re actually eating, instead of starving on the prison rations.

She lays you back out on the bed, admiring you from above. She sweeps her right hand along the yoke of your shoulder and over your collarbones, skirting above your chest (for now).

Your eyelids flutter. You sigh, then latch on to either side of her waist and pull her down on top of you.

Skin contact is nice. She’s not usually the type to get up close and cuddly with most of her lays, but even she can concede that the sensation is pleasant. It runs the gambit of being soothing or exhilarating, depending on circumstantial context.

You gasp when her chest presses flush against yours. The bed creaks as you arch up against her. A broken, ecstatic moan falls from your open lips.

Sevika lets out a low, aroused groan in response to your excitement. She plasters herself against you, then busies herself in working her way down your neck and drinking in your unrestrained noises of pleasure.

She pauses long enough, just above your breasts, to ask “Is this okay?” Your immediate, ragged “Yes!” spurs her on, and she lowers her head to kiss your left breast. She slides her tongue over soft skin experimentally, mostly to gauge your reaction. Another open-mouthed kiss elicits a breathy exhale and some slight squirming. Satisfied, she moves lower, and gently wraps her lips around your peaked nipple.

Your responding sigh trails into a faint moan.

She cycles through a few staples –swirling your nipple beneath her tongue, rhythmic sucking, even carefully biting the stiffened bud. The last one gets the strongest response –a deep, broken, surging groan that she’ll be replaying in her mind for weeks to come–but she opts to move on after giving some cursory attention to your other breast. She kisses her way down your stomach, leaving smudged lipstick marks as she goes. Sevika lifts her head to admire how her lipstick looks against your skin, then lowers her mouth once more and drags her teeth over a spot on the side of your waist.

You yelp. The bed rocks as you thrash and try to squirm away from her mouth.

Sevika bars your hips down with her metal arm (but even then, it’s a struggle) and lifts her head. “You okay?”

“You–” You lift your head, then narrow your eyes when you catch her smirk. “You bitch.”

Her smirk widens into a grin. She carefully teases your side with the tips of her metal fingers, then chuckles when you squawk. “Something wrong, baby girl?”

“Fuck you.”

She laughs again, then takes mercy on you and goes back to lavishing your abdomen with her mouth.

She traverses lower, steady but slow enough that she can gauge your reactions. When the tension, the freezing she’s waiting for never comes, she hooks her human fingers beneath the band of your pants and briefs beneath. “I’d like to take these off you.” She waits, trailing soft, barely-there kisses along your abdomen. When you don’t respond past a shuddering, quiet moan, she asks, “That okay?”

“Yes,” you answer in a drawn out, somewhat strangled whimper.

She waits while you undo the buttons on the fly of your pants, then drags your trousers and briefs down once you lift your hips.

You draw your legs up to aid the process. Once your pants and underwear hit the floor, though, the hesitance creeps back in.

Sevika stills when she watches your shoulders bunch up. She waits for a moment –but, when you don’t say or do anything, she nudges. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, then swallow. “Just –uh…” Your tongue works inside your cheek for a moment, and then you let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Just– I think– might feel less silly, uh, if–”

A small smirk plays on her lips when you gesture between the two of you. “That’s fine.”

The clasp of her belt clacks when it smacks against her thigh. She kicks her boots off, then shucks off her pants and underwear in swift, even motions. The last of her clothes join yours on the floor.

“Wow.”

She does a double take when she hears the hushed, awe-struck whisper. She looks at you, brows raised towards her hairline. She takes in your wide-eyed, almost worshipful expression. Something soft and sweet settles in her chest like Firelight wings, and she smiles in spite of herself. “Good to know I’ve still got it.”

Your eyes rove over her body, tracing out every curve. “I don’t think you ever lost it.”

She chuckles, shakes her head, then straddles your bare hips. “You’re a fucking sap.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes to try and play off the warmth spreading through her chest. She plants one hand on either side of your head. “Try saying that when I’m not naked.”

Wide, panicked eyes snap up to hers. Your mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “I –you’re–”

She laughs. When you let out an irritated huff, she laughs harder. Sevika shakes her head, then cups your cheek with her right hand. “I’m just fucking with you, baby.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, even as you lean into her touch. “You’re a dick.”

“You just got that?”

A bemused smirk plays on your lips, before slipping away to something softer, more contemplative. Your hand hesitates halfway up, before circling behind her head. “Can I take this down?”

“Sure.” She reaches back with her right hand to help you undo the tie keeping her hair back, then shakes her head once her hair is free.

You smile, small and soft. You run your fingers through her hair, then tuck a few locks behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

Heart racing, she leans down and kisses you. “No, you.”

Her journey back down your body is swifter this time around. She still teases your skin with her mouth, keeping that precious contact she’s learned you crave so fervently, but wastes no time in reaching her goal.

You let out a shuddering gasp when she situates herself between your thighs. A soft gulp emanates from your throat. “What –what should I do?”

“You’re supposed to enjoy yourself.” She brushes her lips against your inner thigh, then smirks when trembles wrack your body. “You put your hands on my hair, if you want.” She licks the junction where your thigh and hip meet, dragging a high-pitched moan past your lips. “You can tell me how good it feels.” And it’ll feel good, believe me. “But, otherwise, you just enjoy it, sweetheart.”

Your hips jerk when her breath fans over your cunt. One hand stutters down your body, then settles atop her head. You whimper. “Okay.”

Sevika pushes your thighs a little further apart, then settles on her belly, drapes her metal arm over your hits, and presses a soft, closed-mouth kiss against your pussy.

She's an old hat at eating women out. She’s not so proud as to call herself an “expert” –unless she’s drunk and bragging–but she knows she’s good at it. She knows the rules of eating pussy like the back of her hand.

First, don’t be afraid to explore. Don’t just focus on the clit and ignore everything else. The cunt is a buffet, and you’re there to eat.

Second, pay attention. Listen to how your bedmate responds, and listen to anything they mention beforehand. Being a know-it-all isn’t sexy.

Third, have fun. If you treat going down on your partner like a chore, they’ll pick up on it, and they won’t enjoy anything you do to them.

Fourth, don’t stop until they physically push you away.

She groans as she drags her tongue between your inner labia. Satisfaction sings through her veins –not so much at the taste (though she certainly enjoys that, too), but because she’s finally got her hands –mouth–on what she’s yearned after for so long.

It’s like working a marathon, back breaking, days long shift, just to finally come home and sink into a warm, soft bed. Except it’s eating pussy. Or whatever.

Ah, well. Metaphors can go fuck themselves, anyway. She has bigger priorities right now.

“Sev-vika!”

Like that.

Hitching, needy moans spill past your lips. “Ohmigod.” Your hips jerk against the (literal) iron bar of her mech arm. “Fuck –please, please–”

Sevika’s eyes dart up when you clap your other hand over your mouth. She pulls away from your dripping pussy –resulting in a strangled, confused whine from you–and tugs your hand away from your mouth. “Nuh-uh. Let me hear you, baby.”

Eyes glazed over and slightly unfocused, you stare at her glistening mouth before swallowing hard. “O-okay.”

She settles back between your legs, but pauses long enough to lock eyes with you again. “Good girl.”

Your responding whine is delicious.

She laps at your clit, swirls her tongue against the sensitive bud, then moves back down to lick around your entrance and suck on your sensitized flesh. She moans when you grind your clit against the bridge of her nose. “That’s it,” she growls into your soaked cunt. “Good girl.”

“Fuck!” Your fingers curl tightly into her hair. Thick, trembling thighs squeeze either side of her head. “ Quiet, strangled moans strain from your throat, followed by ragged, full-chested cries of pleasure, before cycling back to attempts to stifle yourself as pleasure rolls through you. You whimper, back arching off the bed. “Nnngh –that –m-more. More p-pressure, Sevika–”

She strokes your clit harder with her tongue, then starts alternating between sucking on your clit and licking it.

“Yes!” Tremors overtake your body. “That –that. Please. Please, please, please–”

Her eyelids slide shut when your cries cut off into silence. Her mech arm strains as your hips jerk against her mouth. She slowly ramps down the pressure and speed, coaxing you through your orgasm and into the afterglow.

Or, that’s the plan, at least.

Your body shudders as an aftershock runs through you. You let out a choked sob –then clap one hand over your mouth as another tremulous cry follows too close behind.

Crap. Sevika pulls her mouth away from your glistening pussy when you draw in a high-pitched, staggered, panicked breath. “Hey, hey.” She wipes her mouth on the back of her right forearm, then crawls up the bed. “Easy, sweetheart.” She wedges herself into the space next to you, then slides her right arm beneath your neck as she lies down. “C’mere.”

You curl into her and bury your face in her neck.

Hot, salty tears smear across her skin. She ignores the sensation in favor of stroking your hair and crooning reassuringly in your hair. “Just breathe for me. Come on.” She models a deep breath for you, then brushes her lips against your temple when you mimic her as best you can. “Attagirl. That’s it.”

A minute, shaky whimper falls from your lips. “I’m sor–”

“None of that,” Sevika cuts off, voice stern but gentle. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Within a few minutes, you’re breathing more normally, even if you’re still tense as a rock and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. You swallow audibly, then curl one arm around her torso. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“What’d I say about doing that?” The corner of her mouth twitches up when you grunt into her neck. “It happens more than you think.”

“What, people have the best orgasm of their life, then blubber like a baby about it?”

Resisting the urge to preen is arduous. She inhales slowly, quietly, then forces her voice to come out neutral. “It’s called sub drop in BDSM communities. Endorphin and emotional high, followed by a drop after orgasm or a scene, followed by a crash. Happens in regular sex, too.” She cranes her head back and tilts her chin down until she can just see your eyes. “It’s normal.”

You drop her gaze and grunt against her shoulder.

“If anything,” she continues, “I should’ve warned you that it could happen. Prepared you better.” She strokes your hair lightly. “Ought to be me apologizing.”

You scoff. “Pretty sure you made me see god, if they exist. Think that balances everything out.”

She allows herself a smirk, then kisses the top of your head.

Once she’s confident that you’ve settled reasonably, she excuses herself to your bathroom. She washes and dries her face, then checks a couple drawers beneath your sink until she finds a few folded washcloths.

You lift your head when she walks back out of the bathroom. A confused frown tugs on your mouth when you see what’s in her hand. “Why…”

She arches one eyebrow and lifts the damp, clean rag. “For your sake, I hope you know to wash up after sex. Or masturbating.”

“I–” You sputter and scrunch up your nose at her. “Yes, you jackass, I know that! I haven’t been living under a rock my whole life!”

“Great.” She sits on the edge of the bed, then swipes the cloth over one of your inner thighs. “Figured you did, since you tasted pretty clean.”

“I –shit!” You shiver and hiss through your teeth. “That’s cold!”

“I used warm water,” she chuckles. “Your body’s just hot.”

“Fucking–” You flinch when she wipes down your other thigh, then prop yourself up on your elbows and squint at her. “I can do this myself, y’know. You don’t gotta…”

She shakes her head when you gesture to her hand, then carefully wipes along your cunt. “It’s good etiquette.” She tosses the used rag onto a wooden crate next to your bed that doubles as a nightstand –if the small camping lamp and a couple of books are anything to go by–then meets your doubtful gaze. “I’ve got a reputation for taking good care of my girls. I’m not about to start slacking now.”

You grunt and roll your eyes, but that seems to be the last of your protesting. You certainly accept the glass of water she fetches for you moments later with less belligerence.

Sevika waits until you set the empty glass on your makeshift nightstand, then clambers onto your bed and nudges you with her knee. “Make room.”

You oblige and shift towards the wall. Once she’s flat on her back, you settle against her side, half-draped on top of her.

Sevika resumes stroking your hair with her right hand.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

“Most people don’t.” She twirls a lock of your hair around her index finger. “It’s part of aftercare manners, too. Releases endorphins, helps calm everyone down again.”

You hum softly. Your hand presses flat against her ribcage, fingers smoothing over soft, dark brown skin. “You’re very good at it.”

She chuckles and grins. “Well, thank you, baby girl. You’re not so bad at it, either.”

The two of you settle into silence for a bit. It’s surprisingly peaceful –there’s muffled noises from the adjoining apartments and outside (Zaun is never truly quiet), but it’s a familiar, comforting drone.

Her heart leaps when you let out a little sigh, then relax against her. It’s taking everything to keep from grinning like a sap. She feels like she’s glowing from the inside out; she’s the cat that got the cream. After stewing in frustrated, uncertain yearning for so long, she’s done. She has her hands on you, she’s cracked you open, and she’s drinking everything. Being in the wake of your coveted softness feels like standing in a summer’s evening sunbeam, akin to her rare journeys to the docks, or up to the Promenade when running errands for Silco.

She brushes her hand from the nape of your neck, down the line of your spine, to in between your shoulder blades. Your skin is wondrously soft here –unscarred, untouched by calluses–and it feels exquisite beneath her fingertips. She soaks up the way you shiver, how you bury your face in her neck and sigh contentedly–

You prop yourself up on one hand and rise abruptly. Brows drawn together, you stare down at her with a small frown. “What about you?”

She blinks a few times, caught off guard. “What about me?”

“I’m pretty sure those were my brains you wiped off my thighs.” You smirk when she laughs, then continue once she settles back down. “I don’t want to freeload.”

Sevika shakes her head. “This isn’t how that works. If you don’t feel–”

“I want to,” you cut her off, expression and voice earnest. “I’m just not…” you gesture up and down her body, “...sure where to start.”

“Well,” she purrs as she stretches slowly. Smug satisfaction curls through her chest at the way your hungry, awestruck gaze roves over her body. Damn right. “There’s options, depending on how involved you want to be. If you don’t feel like touching, you can watch me masturbate. If you want to touch, but want me to have more control, I can always sit on your face. And if you want to touch and have more control, I can lie back and you can go down on me like I did for you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Dark, wide eyes flit down between her legs, then back up to her face. “Yeah.”

She grins. “Which one?”

“I mean…” You quirk your mouth to one side, glance away, then shrug ever so innocently. “We could have time for all of them.”

“We could,” she agrees, her grin growing wider. She reaches up, curls her fingers around your chin, and guides your head until you’re looking at her again. “Where do you want to start, sweet thing?”

Your expression goes blissfully blank for a moment.

She’s having far too much fun with this. You’re so responsive, she barely has to do anything to turn you into a muddled, lusty mess. It’s a gamble if you’ll stay this way, once you’re not so touch-starved and have some more experience, but right now she’s going to indulge and enjoy herself. 

A few seconds later, you collect yourself and inhale sharply. “The –the face sitting. That’s a real thing?” Your breath hitches when she brushes her hand downward, over your neck. “I– I thought it was just in dirty novels. Or people talking shit.”

“It’s a real thing.”

“That.” Your voice is a rough, hungry growl. You lick your lips. “Sit on my face. Please.”

Exhilaration sings in her veins. She sits up slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, until she’s a hairsbreadth from your lips. “Good girl.”

You whimper into her mouth when she kisses you.

She directs you onto your back, then straddles your chest. She takes a moment to enjoy the view –you beneath her, hair mussed, lips kiss swollen–then works her way forward on her knees. She braces her arms against the wall, gets one knee over one of your burly shoulders –then laughs softly when you let out a strangled, high-pitched moan. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, emphatic. You’re staring at her thighs, her abs, her hips. “Pretty sure this is the best day of my life.”

She cackles, taken in by your enthusiasm, then swings her other leg over so she’s straddling your head. “Glad to be of assistance.” She finishes positioning herself over your mouth, then reaches down and grabs your hands. “Feel free to touch. Or hold on.”

“Hnmm.” Your fingers curl around her hips. “What –I –should –mouth?”

“Tongue and lips,” she answers with a smug smile. “Don’t be afraid to get messy. I’ll give you more direction in the moment.”

“Yesma’am.”

She smirks, then gives into your minute tug on her hips and lowers herself against your face.

You stay still for a moment –aside from your eyes rolling back in your head before sliding shut–until she reminds you, “Tongue and lips,” and then you start tentatively exploring her pussy. The first lick is soft and shallow, but the second goes deeper. Your tongue slides between her folds, and you groan softly in the back of your throat.

She hums lowly. Her head tips back, and she lets out a quiet sigh as you tease her pussy with your mouth. She lets you explore for a few moments –for you, she’s willing to be patient and let you test the waters–but soon rests her forehead against the wall so she can look down at you. “Up higher.” She groans when you tilt your chin up and drag your tongue over her clit. “Right there. Good girl.”

Your responding whimper is muffled by her thighs and cunt. The bed rocks gently as you squirm beneath her. Your fingers curl into her hips as your eyelids flutter shut, and you give into the bliss of eating her out.

To your credit, you’re a quick learner. It only takes a few more directions –adjusting speed and pressure, and reminding you to vary it up between your tongue and lips–before her thighs start quivering on either side of your head.

Your name falls from her lips in a breathy sigh. She rolls her hips against your mouth –then, when you freeze, she reaches down and sinks her fingers into your hair. “Don’t stop.” When you resume with just as much vigor as before, she groans. “Fuck –good girl.”

A strangled groan gets swallowed by her cunt. You’ve got your eyes shut; understandable, since it’s not like seeing in the most important function, given your current position.

But she wants to see your eyes. She wants to see how wrecked you are for her.

Her command to look at her goes unheeded for a moment. (Again, she can’t blame you. Pussy is a powerful drug.) But when she tugs on your hair and growls, “Look at me,” again, you get the message. You gasp, high-pitched, and then your eyes shoot open.

The wide, dazed look in your eyes makes her clit throb. She moans, making her forehead thunk against the wall. “Good girl.”

You whine her name into her cunt, and your eyes slide shut again–

Sevika tightens her grip on your hair until you let out a squeak and open your eyes again. “Keep ‘em open.” She braces her metal forearm above her head for stability, then rolls her hips experimentally a few times. When your gaze stays locked on her –although it unfocuses slightly, but she can’t say she blames you–she rewards you with another growled, “Good girl.”

Your responding whine reverberates through her pussy.

Thirst for obedience quenched, she sets into chasing her own pleasure.

It isn’t terribly protracted. Worshiping you earlier left her in quite the sweet spot –even after a break for aftercare and cuddling. She can already feel the tell-tale ache in her cunt; her orgasm’s not too far off, and between your mouth, the pace of her hips, and the pussy-drunk look in your eyes, it’s not going to be a difficult chase.

“Fuck!” Though she’s trying to be mindful that this is your first time, that you haven’t ever had someone ride your face, she can’t help but grind down harder. “Fuck –shit!” Her eyes roll back in her head, before she forces herself to look down again; she’s told you to keep your eyes open, and she’s not going to waste a single second of your compliance. “G-good girl. Shit. You’re –suchagoodgirl.” A breathless, higher pitched moan tears from her throat when your fingers curl into her ass –and again when you start helping her rock against your mouth. “You’re so –fucking perfect!” She groans, loud and broken. Her own eyes are crossing now; she can barely make out your face. “My perfect… perfect… good girl…”

You squeal the broken syllables of her name into her soaked pussy.

That’s all it takes. She climaxes with your name on her lips, bracketed between slurred curses and praises. Her eyelids finally slide shut, and she slumps against the wall as the rolls of her hips break down into softer, fluid humping. Eventually, she stills, panting like she’s gone five rounds in a fighting pit.

You wait, the picture of patience, while she catches her breath and comes back to her senses. Until, that is, curiosity and impishness overrides nerves and you decide to try sucking on her clit again.

She nearly jumps out of her skin. The ensuing oversensitivity borders between delicious and delirium, too good and too much, but she’s not in her head enough to navigate you through that right now. She lifts her hips off your face with a choked gasp. “You little shit.”

You grin up at her, lips, and chin, and cheeks, and neck coated in her arousal. “Sorry.”

She squints blearily down at you. “Somehow, I don’t buy that.” She smirks when you giggle, then shudders when you kiss the inside of her thigh. “Alright, enough. Make room.” She hefts one leg, so she’s no longer straddling your head –then stills when she feels her metal fingers catch against the wall. Slowly, ruefully, she looks up.

Five jagged, long gouges carved –by her–into the painted drywall greet her with no small amount of judgment.

“Shit.”

“Sev?” You squeeze her thigh gently. When she doesn’t respond, you crane your head back and 

look up. Your gaze zeroes in on the gouges, and you beam. “I take it I did a good job?”

Relief chases away any sheepishness she might’ve felt. She snorts softly, then smirks down at you. “You were great, champ.” She smiles softly when you laugh, then nudges your shoulder with your knee. “Now, move over.”

You disappear shortly after she lies down; the sound of water running the bathroom cues her to where you are –not that there’s many places to wander off to in your place.

Sevika lets herself drift. She feels good. Warm and loose, the way she always does during afterglow.

Your bed’s surprisingly nice, too. Good balance between support and squish, decently soft bedding, solid enough frame that doesn’t shake beneath her every time she shifts.

Definitely not the worst place I’ve ever fucked in. She nestles into the bed, then grunts when her lower back gives a satisfying pop. She doesn’t bother to open her eyes when the water shuts off in the bathroom –not until she hears your footsteps (which are surprisingly quiet) approach the bed, and your shadow cuts through what light she can perceive through her eyelids.

You set another glass of water down on your nightstand with a faint clink. Then, you carefully sit next to her on the bed and start wiping down the insides of her thighs with a warm, wet washcloth.

Warmth blooms in her chest. Sevika smiles, then pushes up her left hand and wraps her right hand around the back of your neck.

You still briefly –then sigh and melt into the kiss once her lips touch yours.

…Yeah. She owes Ran a drink.

[13tinysocks]

hey dude! What's up :)) been just a little since l've said something

Initially, this is me saying thank you and goodbye

This isn't supposed to be a weird pity story, so l'm so unbelievably sorry if it comes off that way, lol.

When I began reading your work, I was enamoured with fiction because of personal issues (as many usually are, honestly, I know I'm one of god knows how many people trying to run away from life for just a second with fanfics or media in general). I don't know if I will ever be able to communicate this properly, hell, this will even be unbelievable funny or dramatic but I need to get this across because it's coming from a genuine place. Your stories and work thus far has brought me comfort, immense heaps of it, and even still when I deal with things that feel out of reach or too much to actually face head on I find myself wandering back to syg or just your blog in general

I mean this, from my entire heart, thank you and thank Bee. A million times thank you, for making that one silly silly stupid piece of fanfiction, because oh my god it got me through some major stressful hardships within my life for the past 3 years.

I am leaving tumblr, however I’m aware I have submitted asks with my actual accounts before, so you'll likely be able to see they're still gonna be up. I'm just deleting tumblr the app instead of my account, but for other social platforms they will be deleted properly (such as quotev) so I won’t be indulging in much reading anymore when it comes to fanfics and such lol

I don't know if I'll come back, if I do I likely will not be back for long or to be as active as l've been because of the toll social media’s taken. So even as ridiculous as this feels, to tell someone I’m simply a fan of and barely truly know, that their fanfic of murderers and their love story with my self insert kept me pushing through a lot of tough days, I genuinely just had to.

I needed to thank both you and your partner for the work you've both put out. I still have that smiley pin I’d made, and I will cherish what you made quotev have been for me ( I literally found out about the website during early or late 2020 I can barely remember, then later found your fic, I was DEEP DIVING into that shit LMAO )

I hope whatever happens for you and bee in the future is only good, and I only will wish nothing but the best of luck with everything man.

feel free to post this (idk what it’s called but when you publicly reply lol) or not, as long as you read this it’ll mean lots to me !! >:))

your coolest weirdest ticci toby fan whose also named toby, 🐚 annon

I always struggle to convey gratefulness for messages like this and readership- especially repeated readership. My life would be different if it were not for comments and messages egging us on to keep writing from syg to ho1c. While it's easy to say that writing is solely out of passion for the craft there is also the drive to share something with others. Hearing those others loud or quiet as a favorite- does push us forward when we have no motivation or desire to work. That drive has made us closer as a couple, better thinkers, and a halfway decent writing team. I thank you and all the others who send us stuff even if it's shit post asks I never answer because I like having them in my inbox like a personal horde of platonic Valentine's. I like keeping the pieces you give me to myself sometimes. I know it may seem like I'm ignoring you but I find genuine comfort in these messages. That there are so many. That they are so varied. That we have reached beyond our shut-in existence to touch the lives of others.

I find myself wondering where an anon has gone when I do not hear from them in awhile. I wish them well. I wish them better standards than us.

Maybe we'll meet again someday space cowboy. If you're ever back in town feel free to shoot me (a message).

Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for reading. I wish you peace and love and good books.

[suzukiblu]

also i got you quite a few ko-fis and i want to let you know you Do Not have to feel beholden to that number. its kinda a lot of sentences but i have a thing about numbers feeling right and that was one that felt right 😅

lol oh friend, I assure you, I'm currently halfway through your thank-you sentence count and I WILL be hitting the full number. I've actually been using them to stitch together disconnected scenebits from mirrorverse!Clark/Kon's daddy issues as opposed to writing them all consecutively, so it should end up being a decent chunk of not-yet-published stuff connected to already-published stuff going up by the time I'm done. Current word count of stitched-together stuff is pushing 4k, sooooo . . . yeah probs gonna be a decent bit, hahaha.

Shit, going by what I've got, if I get REAL motivated I might actually be able to finish the fic if I use your sentences as a stepping stool. So trust me, total opposite of a problem, haha.

[oneefin]

screw that sudoku puzzle i was talking about last week - THIS is the sudoku puzzle premise of all time

it's called "foggy on the details" and it's by "karl the fog!". on the surface it looks like an ordinary fog-of-war sudoku variant, it's got some lines and some cages nothing crazy, but you begin solving it and crazy shit happens

i want to break down what it's like to solve this actually because it's so crazy and illustrates the level of shock and insanity that i only ever really see in puzzle hunts. you can choose to experience this for yourself first by checking the solver here: https://sudokupad.app/e3dz5lytps or if you're not up for that, you can just watch simon from cracking the cryptic solve it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KxugQBUi-A

otherwise, spoilers ahead!

okay, so the rules have a lot of caveats that i internalize pretty quick:

cages can't overlap

lines can't overlap

cage totals are always written in the top left

digits can't repeat in a cage

lines always move orthogonally

using these ideas, i end up figuring out that the first number to place is a 6 in this cell, forced there because of the geometry of the cage in the upper right. this is all sort of standard if you've done enough variant sudoku before:

as soon as you lock in the digit though, this shows up:

oh god wtf!

so the rules of the sudoku are getting updated as we go in ways that make the previous logic not work anymore. suddenly the red cage doesn't actually look like that anymore - now i figured it has to be something like this:

the puzzle continues in this way, where i put in a digit and then something i thought i knew about the puzzle shatters the logic i just used to get there.

i start by connecting these blue lines and writing a 6 in the other end. but it turns out the lines don't connect after all

the new lines revealed by this lead to t a 3 in the second box, with some decently intricate logic to get there:

now we're saying the top-right corner has the cage total? if true, this would have very interesting implications for the cage on the left... guess it looks like this? no. of course not.

the next digit was spicy! i figured that this blue line must extend exactly like this, and that manages to poke the far left column and force a digit in the corner, far into the fog.

(this is the sort of far-reaching, surprising logic that fog-of-war puzzles are great at pulling off - the fact that this puzzle makes you do something like it is a sign that the premise isn't just for a novelty, it's extremely well executed

putting that number there reveals a red line (almost forgot we had those!) - with some quick deductions afterward. the grid is about halfway filled, so i'm imagining the momentum of the puzzle will slow down, but then i get hit by a bombshell:

what. no fucking way.

basically for the entire puzzle i had been doing logic to the blue lines as if they had the blue line's rules - but now i have to swap them for an entirely different rule? but when i look back at all the stuff i wrote on them... it just works. that's absolutely wild.

so that mega-long blue line that led to this moment? turns out it doesn't even exist. oh, and the green cage is hecking massive as well - just a little bonus to get the whole thing finished.

yay 🎉

honestly this whole thing was equal parts diabolical, clever, and amazing. it's not only insanely creative to have imagined this idea, but very brilliant to craft it into an unambiguous, linear solve path that's just as gorgeous as it is bonkers. it's the kind of nerdy insanity that makes me love solving and talking about these

[ooops-i-arted]

I don't care to follow this show closely, but people in tags have been talking about it for weeks. Not surprising that the Ahsoka/Anakin reunion turned out disappointing and devoid of emotional depth, because what did I expect from Filoni and Disney Star Wars after all?

At this point, I just have to ask .... does Filoni know that he's supposed to be writing characters? Like people with personalities? Relationships between people with shared history? Dialogue that sounds natural coming from an individual with a functioning brain? Because we have characters like the live action Ghost Crew who are described as stilted and don't even act like they are close. We have Ahsoka and Luke scenes that feel hollow and tacked on, ("so much like your father" girl explain how something Luke said made you come to that conclusion or was it just for fans to get nostalgic about clone wars?). The last time Anakin and Ahsoka met, he tried to fucking kill her and we would think there would be more of a reaction from this. But no, the focus is on battle scenes and snarky clone wars skits.

Oh my bad, Filoni's target demographic is people weeping over the next cameo and something he poached from Legends. He can probably make something look like a flashy video game cutscene. But more effort is put into showing off choreography and making Ahsoka look like the bland, stoic and bestest OC ever, rather than writing something truly meaningful and it's really obvious.

The problem imo is that the fandom has acted like Filoni shits gold for so long Disney/Filoni has no incentive to improve. Every piece of nostalgia-laden schlock Filoni squeezes out of his butthole is treated as a masterpiece by the majority of the fandom. They have zero incentive to keep making fresh, original things like Mandalorian season 1 or Andor (haven't watched that yet, going by word of mouth) when low-effect TCW fanfiction makes the loudest Star Wars fans cream their pants.

Honestly I think the Ahsoka show is just Filoni playing with his dolls with all the high-end special effects at his disposal and still couldn't make Hera look halfway decent. Tbh I feel a bit bad for all the voice actors and animators who first brought these characters to life and gave them soul now being tossed aside for the new shiny live action versions, just because there's this idea that animation is less prestigious/for kids. Like I'm no fan of Ashley Eckleswhatever but there is no doubt she is dedicated to Ahsoka and the fans and I've heard tons of lovely things about her. Not to mention the Legends authors getting ripped off and no credit for their ideas. (Don't even get me started on Hayden Christensen. Okay, obviously I don't presume to know how he feels, hey if he's happy with this good for him and I 100% support him. But if I starred in the prequels and had my performance constantly mocked and maligned for years, finally returned to Kenobi and had tons of fans now cheering and praising me for an emotional reunion with the character & actor that were the heart of RotS..... I wouldn't exactly be thrilled to lick the orange butthole of some guy's fanfic OC next.)

(Also also I hate the TCW designs. In the 2D Clone Wars Anakin does not wear any armor, which imo much better shows how reckless and borderline arrogant he is about his abilities.)

[falling-endlessly]

Teknologik

Vox x Vaggie

Summary: Vaggie is a newly fallen soul in hell. In a strange twist of fate, she manages to get tangled up with the infamous TV demon—and now, he won't leave her alone.

Bisexual!Vaggie

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

Part 2: Well, shit

Several weeks had passed since her arrival in hell, and Vaggie was slowly getting used to it.

Sure most people weren't the friendliest, and the gunshots were kind of a pain to sleep through at night, but it wasn't much different from the area she grew up around. Besides, every once in awhile, she would even come across someone actually halfway decent, so it really wasn't too terrible.

As long as you kept your head down and didn't fuck with the crazies, then you'd be fine. Vaggie was used to flying under the radar.

On top of that, she now had a stable job, room and board, courtesy of Dante—the owner of 666 bakery who'd nearly beat her with his whisk when they'd met. Dante was a burly, gruff man who mostly kept to himself, but he was kind at heart and harbored a soft spot for new arrivals. She often found herself curious as to the reason he ended up in hell—but apparently asking that of someone was taboo here. She learnt that the hard way.

For the most part, Vaggie considered herself extremely lucky. Things could have taken a much darker turn if she hadn't run into someone as generous and accommodating as Dante. She would even say she enjoyed working at the bakery. There was something strangely therapeutic about working just the two of them in the kitchen, no words exchanged, just the soft melody of the old stereo playing on the counter. Then when it was time to open, she would take turns manning the register and restocking their display. It was repetitive, but comforting.

Vaggie hummed under her breath, writing down the ingredients they would need to restock on her notepad. She heard the tinkle of the bell, indicating a new client had arrived.

"Just a second!" She called out, stuffing her notepad into her apron and brushing the flour from her shirt. She pushed past the curtains that separated the kitchen from the display, taking in the strange, frowning demon scrolling through his phone. He was dressed well above the standard, probably worked for an overlord or something, but the strangest thing about him was the fact that his face was literally a television screen. Vaggie blinked, approaching the register.

"Welcome to 666 bakery, what can I get you?" She raised a brow.

He didn't answer her, not even looking up from his phone.

Vaggie's eye twitched. Great, an asshole too. "Sir?" She gritted out, face straining to keep a neutral expression.

"Hmm?" He glanced up boredly, giving her an unimpressed once over that made her fume. "Oh, you're finally here. I was wondering how long I would have to wait."

Vaggie's jaw dropped, her fists balling at her sides. "What the f—"

"Anyway, I'm kind of in a rush," he rolled his eyes, looking at her pointedly. "Could I get two dozen double chocolate cupcakes, a red velvet cake, six boxes of strawberry vanilla cake pops and three mocha lattes?"

"Is that all?" Vaggie typed it up with a sarcastic smile.

"Yep," he said, glancing back down at his phone.

"That'll be 300 dollars and 35 cents," she said with a raised brow. This guy might be an asshole but at least he was keeping them in business. "How would you like to pay?"

"Credit," he said distractedly. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out a sleek black and gold infinite credit card. Vaggie's eyebrows raised even higher. Damn, so he was rich rich.

"Due to the size of your order," she continued, setting up the device for him to scan his card. "It will probably be ready by 3 pm at the earliest. If you could just leave us your phone number—"

"What?" He snapped, retracting his card and lifting his eyes to glare at her. "What part of 'I'm in a rush' did you not understand?"

Vaggie struggled to keep her calm, forcing a blank expression on her face. "You can't expect us to procure this order on such short notice. If you wanted to pick it up at this time, you could have called in advance so that we could have prepared it for you."

"Well if you had done your job and told me earlier, then I wouldn't have wasted my time with this dump," he growled.

Her patience finally snapped, a surge of white hot anger twisting her features. "If your face wasn't glued to your phone screen, maybe you'd see the giant fucking sign over my shoulder that says exactly what I just told you." She gestured angrily behind her at the sign displayed.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, leaning over the counter to sneer in her face. "If you dislodged your head from your asshole, maybe you'd notice the dried cum stains all over your face."

"If your head wasn't an inanimate object, maybe you'd actually have a brain," she spat back.

His screen turned a vibrant red as he bared his teeth at her. "You fucking—do you understand who the hell you're—"

"Vaggie?" Dante's rough voice sounded from behind them. "What is—?" He cut himself off, and Vaggie uneasily watched the color drain from his face.

For a moment nobody spoke, before Dante uncharacteristically rushed forward. "My apologies sir, she's new, please forgive her."

Vaggie frowned incredulously. "What are you—?"

He gave her a scalding glare, silencing the retort on her tongue.

"This standard of customer service is abysmal," the man scowled, raising her hackles. "In my own damn territory no less."

"I apologize, sir," Dante bowed his head.

Vaggie furrowed her brows. Territory? Now that she thought about it, Dante had told her that this territory was owned...by an overlord. Her eyes widened, an icy feeling trickling down her spine. Shit. Holy shit. She just threatened an overlord.

Apparently he could see the moment it finally clicked in her brain, because a smug look spread across his face.

"Don't worry," he began slyly. "I won't shut you down."

They barely had a chance to sigh in relief before he continued. "As long as you fire her," he pointed a clawed finger at her.

Vaggie felt the blood drain from her face. Fire her? No she couldn't—where would she go? Last time she was left to her own devices she was almost kidnapped by human traffickers. Her fists trembled. "You—"

"But of course, I could also be convinced to let this go entirely," he cut her off, his grin growing by the second. "If you beg for forgiveness."

What. An. ASSHOLE.

Vaggie shook with rage, barely refraining from leaping over the counter, overlord or not. She wanted to wrap her hands around his slender neck and watch the panic bloom in his expression as he suffocated slowly. Or maybe she could shatter his screen with the shiny new spear Dante got her in case customers got violent. But realistically, she knew this would only anger him, and he in turn may very possibly take out that anger on Dante. She couldn't find it in herself to do that to the nice man who'd given her so much already.

So begrudgingly, she lowered her eyes submissively. "Sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"Come on, you can do better than that," he jeered. "Say it like you mean it."

Vaggie's jaw clenched so hard, she was surprised she didn't fracture a bone. She raised her head to stare him right in the eyes. "Sorry sir, I was wrong to treat you with disrespect and waste your time. Please forgive me."

"Hmm," he hummed noncommittally. "It's still missing something. Maybe—oh, I got it!" He snapped his fingers as if coming to a grand realization, before grinning at her downright wickedly. "Get on your knees."

Vaggie's jaw dropped. "Excuse me—"

"Actually, now that I think about it, the porn industry is hiring," he tapped his chin. "Though you're kind of lacking in...assets, they'd probably still take you. I mean sure, you'd get all the second-rate gigs that nobody wants, but at least you'd be off the streets, right?"

Vaggie dropped to her knees, hands slapping against the floor as she bowed her head. "Please forgive me, I was wrong. Just don't—I can't—not again." Her breath came out shakily, eyes burning in humiliation.

It was silent for a moment, before a loud sigh sounded from above her. She glanced up hesitantly.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just—give me discount or something."

"It'll be on the house, sir," Dante breathed a sigh of relief, before shooting her a thunderous look that promised a long scolding after this was done. "Vaggie, in the kitchen. Now."

She didn't need to be told twice, scrambling to her feet as she made herself scarce.

****

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

[maxbegone]

happy sunday/i keep forgetting it's actually sunday. my head's a mess, ignore me. are we tagging people now? i'm gonna tag @hrhwrites @iboatedhere @rmd-writes @kiwiana-writes and @lilythesilly

i hope the week treats you well ♥️

So one afternoon, Alex follows Oscar out to the barn to assess the damage in the loft. There’s a decently-sized hole from breakage, about a foot or so up and down, that they’re really going to have to get a jump on if they don’t want it to get worse. But there isn’t anything they can really do about it permanently until the weather clears. His dad mumbles under his breath about supplies as they at least patch it with an old piece of tarp.

“Los Bastardos are gonna have to get some more wood,” he says, hands on his hips as Alex stands on a stepladder affixing the tarp with a hammer. They’ve already moved the bed out of the way and removed the sheets to bring back to the house and let dry.

“You bringin’ shiner?” He grunts, and Oscar cackles.

“If you think I’m letting either you or Luna around shiner with an ax in hand, y’all are sorely mistaken. You two rile each other up enough, I don’t need to run a missing appendage back to the house because of it.”

It was worth a shot at least.

Oscar sighs. “I’ll think about bringing a flask. But I ain’t babysitting.”

“We’ll behave, Dad.” He leans back to assess his work. “How’s that?”

“Eh, I think it’s as good as we’re gonna get right now. Come on down.”

“Gladly.”

The tarp was an honest bitch to work with, what with the wind folding it back and nearly beheading Alex, if that’s at all possible. He’s cold and his hair is wet from the rain that came through, so he happily takes the towel that’s offered to him when he’s back on solid ground.

He points to the roof. “What are the odds that thing is just going to come off?”

“You used the nails right?” Oscar claps him on the shoulder. “We can’t control what we can’t control.”

“Since when are you all lax?”

“I’ve always been lax, you little shit,” he says, picking up the tool box. He turns back to Alex. “Your sister started making me meditate with her.”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding,” Alex gawks. “She got you into that, too?”

“All those years in California, never picked it up. Why not now?”

“Still,” Alex says, lifting up the hatch and making his way down the ladder. When he gets about halfway, Oscar passes him the toolbox. “Can’t believe she roped you in.”

“Your sister is persuasive.”

“Persuasive or nagging?��

When Oscar gets to the floor of the barn, he gives Alex a mild look. “Be nice.”

“I am nice. I’m the nicest person ever.”

His dad makes a noise as he heads down the line of stalls to where his horse, Poncio, is sticking his head out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a treat, Poncio taking it from his open palm. “You think those two are really gonna head up to Niagara?”

Henry and Pez. Right.

Even after the conversation he had with Henry on the porch the other morning, he and Pez are still talking about it. He’s really not sure what to think about it. “They don’t really have anywhere else to go, right?”

“Does anyone?”

That’s true. Alex pushes off the wooden column he’s leaning against to stroke down Poncio’s neck. His coat is silky and black, and he throws his head up and down happily a few times before settling again. Alex chuckles. “I mean, they seem determined.” A beat. “Why?”

He eyes his dad tentatively as he takes a long pause, still focused on the horse. For a second, Alex thinks he didn’t hear him, but then he says, “It sounds like a suicide mission with a castle in the sky at the end.”

“What, you don’t think the Niagara safe haven even exists?”

“No, I believe it exists,” Oscar starts, “I just don’t believe in that whole reconnection thing they’re talking about. As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think there’s much effort from the people running these places. They care about keeping people in and the bad stuff out.”

Alex’s brow furrows. Unfortunately, he does agree a little bit. Mostly because he’s always assumed the safe havens were false hope. Military-run cities with tight curfews and propaganda. Sure, it might grant protection, but it seems like hell, especially from Raf’s stories and the very few they’ve gotten over the years from people they’ve traded with. And these so-called reconnection attempts? Alex just can’t wrap his head around that actually working out fruitfully. 

And yes, they have their own radios here so they can communicate with each other and Zahra and Shaan, and they occasionally pick up on another channel or frequency, but it’s localized. He’s not too sure about something so…worldwide.

“What if it was us?” Alex finds himself asking. “Do you think you’d believe in it more?”

Oscar turns to him with a mournful smile, one hand on Poncio’s muzzle. “I would burn the world down to find you and June again. And I sure as hell wouldn’t need a radio system to help me.”

Alex drops his gaze.

He steps over and places his hands on Alex’s shoulders. “I can only focus on what I have, right? What we have. I’ve got my kids, that’s all I need in the end. My worries start and end with you. So if those two believe that going to Niagara will help them find their families who are oceans away, then we can’t stop them and we can’t break their hope.”

It’s a fair and somber point. Alex nods.

“Look,” Oscar continues, “talk to Raf if you want another opinion.. He wasn’t in Weehawken long, but he was there long enough to know the ins and outs at the time. Or even Zahra; she’s had contacts in the zones since this shit started. Maybe it’ll be enlightening.”

So that’s exactly what Alex does.

[queerwritersingerdramaqueen]

And now it is time for ~random annotations from that one fic I wrote self-indulgently with no context in order of appearance~

"the snake and medusa symbolism is there too"

"you're in a mirror situation of my own design"

"first to get on the train, last to get off"

"dichotomy bitches, i'm giving you so much whiplash"

"I want to make it so obvious this is fictional and should in no way inform any real-life scenarios."

"Still trying to figure out who actually asked who to be their lighthouse." (and directly after this one) "Hehe, nice extended metaphor"

"Jesus Christ Liam, he just said living without you would kill him"

"way to set up the dramatic irony sir"

"Please excuse me I designed her when I was 13 and the teenage angst was kicking."

(this one might require context of the fic but it sounds slightly unhinged on it's own so) "This is why I write like this, to settle the ever-present fact that shit could have and still can go sideways so quick because I was born when I was."

(Also might need context but) "Please imagine this little doctor running down to the apartment, banging on the door until they realise Sherlock is incapacitated, running halfway across town to get Billy cause their afraid something's wrong and he's the only one with a key, coming back just to realise Sherlock forgot to unlock the door and basically did their job for them XD."

"Billy: You fucking Twat! Also Billy: is that a baby?"

"Nice Double entendre, is he going to let go of the fear or let go of Liam, OoOoOh"

"How the fuck do children talk???"

"not subtle at all, you may as well just tell him he's his mama by that point"

"so you have chosen death"

"I'm very proud of this little thing I do where a character will ask a question about why they do something and then it immediately cuts to the reasonTM"

"still kind of proud of this one"

"and so it begins, the older brother-fication of the only child" (directly after) "and there's the middle child"

"Don't mind me just throwing random coffee orders out there."

"I really like going all in on the symbolism huh?"

"Aka. "When did you two fuck?"

"It's called dramatic irony"

"stimmmmmmming"

"I'm demi, ok? I don't know what waking up sex would feel like and I'm not sure I want to know but that sounds romantic to me ok? Shut up"

"1. can babies inherit ocular albinism but not full albinsim? 2. this feels like it would happen but what do I know"

"me too dude, me too"

"URGH, right in the heart"

"And that's what it's all about"

(the = is my equivalent of the shaking hands meme) "Mycroft = Louis: Why are you going for the guy who could fuck you up?"

"bEtRaYaL"

"Let it be known that Albert may be the first one to get on the train of redemption but he is far from the first on to get off."

"Fred just grinning in the corner"

"yes on the purity but my book says nothing about rebirth"

"CAtch me if you can"

"Can you tell I was super into The Moon Will Sing at this point?"

"Don't know how he's not dead, the plot armour is strong on this one"

"I cannot stress enough that this should not be taken as reality. I as the god of this universe have strung together enough circumstantial and well thought out plot for them so they can be together again without the toxicity and I'll explore this later. This should be catharsis for all the peeps who are going through breakups where they want to go back but can't. Live vicariously through these two, don't go back to your ex unless the circumstances are almost suspiciously in your favour and even then, don't."

"and not rationality as in "oh I can't live without Liam," NO, rationality as in "this baby has RIGHTS""

"I'm not afraid to admit this came at the height of my Girl, Goddess, Queen hype"

"Because any decent man who can understand where he might have gone wrong in gaining your trust will not continue to be unworthy of your trust. If he does not continuously try to earn your trust earnestly, toss him."

"we love a self-aware man who can own up to his mistakes"

"AGAIN, FICTION"

"Mycroft and Albert Holmes, William and Sherlock Moriarty. I rest my case."

"at the end of the day, it's a name and he's happy to know it."

"who thought sending the two year old was smart? *looks in the mirror*"

"still crying over this"

"Babies' have no right smelling so cute when all they do is poop and vomit"

"I won't lie. he was probably thinking of ways to murder him for making fun of their kid"

"The Bloodline Continues"

"Liam, you're catharting. After a year and a half of basically being on your own, you're finally having simple human contact and it's nice."

"le gasp"

"Moran slander is fun I don't know what you're talking about"

"FICTION, I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH"

"Relationships are all good and well until your isolated with only one person you can truly let go with"

"I don't know what kind of relationship Americans had with British people at this time but this seemed most plausible"

"Cana two year old have a thought process like this???"

"priorities"

"wouldn't that be crazy *laughs in polyamory*"

"i like this metaphor"

I had to cut out a few that were actual notes about the story and if it hadn't become abundantly obvious, it's yuumori kidfic. I make myself laugh and I'd never write anything I didn't find enjoyment in myself so HERE YOU GO. I hope my ridiculous ramblings make someone laugh today.

[mermaidsirennikita]

You said virgin lactation and I found out it's about a spy guy and now I'm adding another book to my tbr oh man !!!

Lol I will say that so far (I'm about halfway-ish through) DARIUS! SANTIAGO! has done more bodyguarding than spying, but he's an extremely intense bodyguard so it works

It's also, as a heads up, a book published in 1998 or 1999, so just go into being aware of that. Serafina is 20 and Darius is 34; I personally don't care about this. Darius has known Serafina... since she was born... and has been her bodyguard (on and off) since she was 4 (for context, her parents basically raised him as a foster son starting when he was 13). I also don't care about this. But! Things to think about for some readers.

But yeah, it's ridiculous, it's great, he's like "SERAFINA! WE CANNOT BE TOGETHER!" but also "Serafina I'm dipping this strawberry in wine and I want you to crawl across this table and fellate said strawberry while I hold it for you" (Serafina: I'M ON IT).

Every time I read an older historical, like... there's a decent chance that I run into stuff that is problematic (for me, tbh, I don't really consider this age gap or situation problematic because though it would be in real life, this is not real life! And frankly, nobody bitches when dark romances published circa 2024 do the exact same thing! So I don't know why a 1998 historical romance would be treated any differently!) but there's also a decent chance that there is a plot or scenes that truly make me think:

"WE DON'T HAVE FUN ANYMORE!"

Like it's not just how hot this book is (and it is STUPID hot, there are soooo many incredibly sexy scenes, another thing people who only read books written after 2015 think is that older books aren't explicit, LMAO LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO THIS NOVEL) but how much HAPPENS. People try to kill Serafina in the first chapter. Darius wants to assassinate Napoleon Bonaparte (for her!). There are politics, there's adventure, there's an extended erotic hide and seek in the forest scene.

It feels as if half the fucking historicals coming out at the moment are either ballrooms ballrooms ballrooms or these very sterile "Hey, sorry there, I just want you to know that I'm a Feminist Duke" which like nice, and this CAN and IS at points done well... but it often comes off as very forced. Because it really is chasing a Bridgerton audience that apparently isn't reading this shit anyway!

These older books remind me that the audience I truly think would be easier to convert to historicals is probably... dark romance readers. People who want the action, who want the edge, who want the adventure. And that doesn't mean we don't need to diversify historicals (we do need to) and write heroines who aren't trembling flowers (we can and must). But I think you can do all of these things without writing books that are largely characters in a drawing room trying to be good people while... fake courting or something.

ANYWAY! You didn't ask for this, I just have a lot of feelings.

[nautilusopus]

18, 19, 8 and 1 for the ask game!

1) Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

I mean Cloud obviously. The "six different anxiety disorders in a trenchcoat" aspect of him means he bounces nicely off pretty much every character or situation.

8) Do you take inspiration from real life? If so how do you incorporate it into your fics?

I mean there's the usual, "Oh yeah I watch for weird anecdotes or details and use those in writing," but everyone does those. The most important takeaway is just knowing how people fucking talk. (It actually infuriates me how people manage to struggle with dialogue. YOU'RE a people. YOU know how to talk. Just have them do that. Do you think another human being would say these things in this way? Great, then don't have them do that. Please you're slowly killing me.)

Some people double back and stutter and clarify more than others. Some people like turn of phrase. Others don't. Almost no one talks in a clean, unbroken line, and the ones that do have either had a moment to think about it or have had a moment of clarity, and then that needs to be incorporated into the dialogue: the thought process, the rhythm of what they're saying, so on and so forth. Writing dialogue might not be second nature to you, the writer, but talking is second nature to everyone with sufficiently language skills, in one form or another, whether or not they're thinking about what to say as they say it, and if they are, whether that makes them suddenly pivot on subject matter halfway through.

Everyone KNOWS these things, even if they don't know they know them, and in fact everyone does them every day if you are ever around another human being. Just do that.

18) What's the most obscure thing you've researched for a fic?

All the different ways you can apply for a doctorate in certain regions of France before realising I didn't give a shit. I should've never tried to do anything fun with Cissnei, she's caused me nothing but pain.

I don't even know if that's a good answer. Google thinks I actually for sure have crippling erectile dysfunction even more than Google usually assumes that. Does a set of all sets actually contain itself? Are any of my friends familiar enough with fluid dynamics to be able to calculate how long it would take something to float up a specific distance through water, as in several miles, and how buoyant is a human body anyway? What all is even in a blood test if we ignore the usual rules about sample viability? (Not a lot as it turns out which is why I had to lock myself into that stupid chromosome setup/payoff thing.)

I have done a frankly disgusting amount of number fiddling for the sake of TNI and I look forward to never doing it again.

19) What is some random info you happen to have that you used in a fic?

I'm decently-ish familiar with how engines work because I had a stupid gearhead phase in high school and therefore have decided that Fenrir's engine is a rotary that Cloud designed himself, and I shove this headcanon into every fic I can because I'M RIGHT.

I think it's apt, metaphorically speaking, and also given what Fenrir's canonical top speed is (a whopping 250 miles per hour -- would need to be packing some serious power under the hood without it weighing too much).

[just-1other-nerd]

Decided to do a "live" commentary on a show I'm currently watching, so yeah Idk I guess I'll just write my unfiltered thoughts about Crash Landing on You starting with the end of episode 2.

She had depression and other mental health issues which explains why she acts so suicidal from time to time, for example when she acts really stupid, like the time she ran through a mine field, or when she displays a no-one-can-do-me-anything attitude whilst talking to the soldiers (because even if she is a spoiled rich girl and in shock, she is generally too smart to underestimate the situation) because she seems to not care that much whether she survives.

So I didn't expect that to evolve into a fake dating trope but I'm here for it. I mean we already had forced proximity and enemies to lovers so they didn't need to go so hard but they did anyways.

She really is going to girlboss her way through this crisis, isn't she?

Oh shit, the bad guy has a surveillance device?!

This guy really never saw curly hair like mine if he thinks hers is messy.

Okay update to epidode 5: Shit, the Major bad guy knows she wants to leave the country, the con artist bad guy knows she's in North Kroea and the real fiancé kinda knows about them?! How the hell are they supposed to get out of this mess?

The hair cut the fiancé's mum has in episode 6 is so feaking ugly, I can't.

"Oh fuck, not that bitch." I say as I smile and lean back to enjoy the drama that's about to ensue.

I don't know about you but I wanted her to be the one who shoots the attacker in episode 6.

Him speaking German (aka my native language) was just hilarious no matter how sad the scene was. Also damn, that Swiss guy couldn't be less sensitive when he told him his brother died. And why were the piano and his bags on that landing stage? I mean the pictures where nice but what's the logic behind that?

The thing about K dramas is that if they already kiss around the halfway point of the series, something bad is going to happen and make everything difficult...

Btw they really couldn't find an uglier hospital gown for him to wear.

Wow, the con man actually has a consciousness. And he actually gives the fiancé some solid love advice? I'm a little bit impressed, he's not as flat and one-dimensional as I initially thought.

Now, all of the antagonists know that she is a South Korean citizen, the angst this gives me is so bad.

It is physically not possible to hear a piano tune from that far away on a boat which's engine is on.

Idk using an ambulance for something personal feels very wrong.

The K drama obsessed guy translating the dialects will never not be funny. Btw I ship him with the K Pop girl.

She pushes him away to protect him, but she is hurting herself, him and me.

That one soldier is such a snitch, he is so lucky that the mum couldn't restrain her drinking.

I love how hearing that the main guys father is one of the mighty broke the brain of the queen bee.

This maybe a bit unhinged but when Se-ri says that the main guys dad looks like his fiancé and we've been told that her dad is dead I made up the insane theory that Dan could actually be the result of an affair. I don't think that's true but whatever.

His mum really just went "mother-in-law mode activated".

I want a scene where she is like "How can you say you're fine when you literally got shot, beaten and had fever in just the last few days?" And the parents giving each other the biggest wtf side eye ever.

As a booklover the bookshelf I love you kills me.

She really is that bitch that makes THE most dramatic entrance just to say "Guess what I'm back from the dead". A true girlboss.

The auntie squad found out who she really is. Idk their dynamic gets me.

WTF the end of episode 10 like what is going on?

Bro goes on a cave expedition and doesn't even have one of those forehead lamps? Poor planning and here I thought they were equipped better.

Finally he's got a decent haircut!

Okay but I actually ship the con man and Dan.

The auntie squad is being supportive and I love that, okay, let me fangirl, I somehow need that right now.

Their hugs mean much more to me than their kisses because they mean they're there for each other and comfort each other.

Did they really just kill the con man, I was so inversted in his love story with Dan!

Their goodbye at the border was a bit too melodramatic for my taste.

The ending is okay, I expected something like this but still it's sad that they can't have the future they dreamed about when they were drunk, the future where they marry and have children but I also don't want that to happen at the expense of their lives as they know them. So yeah the ending was the best compromise.

[froggy-frogz]

hey i saw your request we're open and was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing jinx with a gn! reader who had heterochromia, maybe a some angst to fluff of the reader getting picked on for their eye color (i don't care what color) and jinx protecting them? Or anything you feel comfortable doing with a heterochromia reader i'm not picky 🤷

A/N: I don't mind at all! Also hey, if anyone is ever wondering if I'll do a request, chances are, if my requests are open and they meet my requesting things, I will do it! It may take a couple of days cause sometimes I have to force myself to write akjhsfdhs but I will do it! Anyway, I did a fic for your request, I hope you enjoy anon! Also, I thought it'd be cool to have either one of two things happen with the reader's eye but I ended up deciding on one so hehe

Jinx x GN!Reader

[My attempt at] Angst to Fluff

You grew up your entire life in Zaun, nothing much shocked or surprised you. For living in such... a place, you were pretty content with your life. Your days mainly consisted of hanging around your girlfriend, wandering the markets grabbing shit either for yourself, or for her, or doing odd tasks for your girlfriend's dad. They weren't even that bad of tasks. It was honestly like being an errand-runner.

- - -

However, today felt different to you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that things were going to only get worse for you. Jinx was busy tinkering and you were fine with that! You didn't mind letting her do her own thing, that wasn't what bothered you, but as you would cross thing after thing from your list, you felt some sort of worry twist deeper and deeper into your stomach.

It felt as if you were being followed, but you knew you weren't. If anything, living with Jinx, and ultimately, the King of Zaun himself, you knew how to decently protect yourself.

Thank Gods, only 3 more things to go.

You weren't kidding about being an errand-runner, but again, you didn't mind it. It put money in your pocket. Silco paid you pretty well depending on how quickly you got everything, and you, after some time, got pretty quick at it.

The markets were easy to navigate as well, and for the most part, none of the vendors would ever pick a fight with you. If anything the combination of your persuasion skills and maybe more the fact you worked for Silco helped you get better prices on things. It was also nice to see some of the same vendors as well.

Your favorite, however, was this older woman, who at the end of your runs you'd see as now and then picked up some fresh bread for you to split with Jinx.

After you finished up with your list, you fastened your bag and decided you'd grab bread. You had extra money to spend, and as long you didn't spend more than was allotted to you, you could keep the extra.

You figured you'd take a shortcut, as the less time you spent on your errand, the sooner you could get back. This proved to be the wrong choice, as you didn't even make it halfway when you were stopped.

"Heya freakshow."

Oh jeez, what now. You turned to be face to face with three scruffy-looking dudes. You'd seen them before, but they had never given you attention before. What was it now?

"You work for Silco right?" One asked, eyeing you up and down.

Gods you hated them eyeing you more than anything, it made your skin itch as their eyes dusted up and down you.

"What about it? Look, I'm in no mood to be bothered with you three right now." You turn to step away when your arm is grabbed tugging you to stay.

"You're a freak."

Huh, what a charmer.

You were about to open your mouth to spit back an insult when you were beaten to it, "We were going to just take your shit but after seeing you face to face it looks like your freaky eye might be worth more than what's in your bag."

Instinctively your hand flies to your face, cupping your eye as you glare at them, "Ever heard of heterochromia, dipshit." You snort, "Or are you two stupid to even know what it means when someone has two different colored eyes."

"It's not that," They pause, their nails digging into your skin making you wince, "It's more the fact it's a nice red like your boss's. Though it is pretty funny."

You wrench your arm away, and as you do, you draw blood from how tight this dick's nails were in your arm.

"Yeah," Another one opens his mouth, snickering like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard, "It's really funny. You working under that freak and having an eye just like him. Guess that's why you work under him."

If anything their words stung more than the scratches on your arm. You were pretty self-conscious about your eyes, and you had even at one point thought about wearing a contact to cover them. It was only because of her that you didn't, as she would always go on and on about how she loves your eyes.

You were in a tough spot now though, as you snapped back to reality. They had managed to get you in a corner. Sure you could probably beat them just enough to get away but you'd be putting the stuff you bought at risk of being ruined. That would be worse than being roughed up.

"How about you hand over your shit then, if you don't want to loose an eye." The dude with the disgustingly long nails takes a swipe at your bag and you move out of the way.

"How about you suck my dick." You spit, keeping your bag away from them.

There was no way in hell that you were going to let them take your shit as you'd have to use your own silver to buy back all the shit on the list and you weren't not going to do that.

No thanks to your loud mouth though, as you had only made things worse now, as all three flushed an upset red, before all making a swipe at you.

Suddenly, the alleyway was covered in thick smoke, all three falling back, coughing. You felt yourself being grabbed by the backpack and dragged to the exit, where you were let go, and when you turned, you saw the welcomed sight of blue hair

That was some decent timing.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." Jinx huffed, taking your hand.

Her eyes flickered to your arm, but she didn't say anything as she pulled you along, you two running away, not stopping until you were all the way back at her hideout.

- - -

Once back, you collapsed on her couched, curled up in a ball with your bag on the ground. Nothing was damaged, well besides your arm.

Jinx had disappeared after you had gone through your stuff, only to return within a minute, gauze and some sort of cleanser in her hand.

"I went looking for you," She sat down next to you, and after a second, you not-so-willingly gave her your arm, "I was about done and was surprised you weren't back by now. I checked that bread lady's place and you weren't even there."

"Sorry I scared you." You mumble, wincing as the liquid Jinx poured onto your arm burned, "I didn't mean too."

"You didn't scare me. I knew you were fine." She huffed, poking my knee to draw my attention to her, "If anything I was and am worried. What the hell happened?"

I let out a snort, leaning into her, my head tucked under her chin as she dries my arm off, "They were trying to take my shit, and, well when I didn't give it to them, they tried to take it by force... They also were pretty set on insulting my eye."

Her arm tensed beneath me as she let out another, more angry-sounding huff, "Why can't people can't keep their mouth shut?"

When I don't say anything, she rests her chin on my head, "I love your eyes. I think they look badass. Don't care how many times I have to tell you."

I pull away, fixing my position to sit next to her, my arm still resting comfortably on her lap.

"I know. Remembering what you told me before helped it not hurt as much." I sigh, rubbing my neck, before looking at her, smiling, "I don't know what I would do without you."

"And I don't know what I'd do without you, trinket," She grins, pressing a kiss to my nose, "I did grab some bread earlier, if you did want to eat."

"I'd really love that."

[cloudninetonine]

Heheheeeee

Now for the whole reason why I spammed your inbox

CRINGE LINKS

HAHAHAHA

I sent two decently written somber scenarios (?? Fic ideas?? I don't know wtf those were tbh)

Anyways, the whole reason why I shared my fairy!player concept was because I really like sprite (no I'm not done watching the LoZ cartoon, she's the only reason why I'm enjoying myself). So I imagine Player, instead of being a fairy in the games, is just a fairy like sprite (que the "gee link, your princess let you have two fairies").

You mentioned how you don't know how the whole player thing would work with Courage well neither do I so let's ignore the obvious plot holes and just say that the player was there, but couldn't intervene without risking the timelines and destroying the world altogether.

Anyways Courage thought he was hot shit being the only link with two fairies (or if record was not kept the only person with two fairies). Anyways one day, player disappeared yada yada yada until player shows up with Koridai (I know 'links don't know player is their fairy' blah blah what the fuck ever I'm tired). Now, instead of Courage having two fairies like before, townspeople are like "oh that's that links fairy"

(stoping this halfway, I'm going off the assumption that player is full sized, and dyr to the fact that fairies have magic (duh), they can change size at will, however being hylian-sized makes them unable to fly and therefore vunerable. Player can switch but doesn't really feel the need to unless sprite wants to hang fairy to fairy. Ted talk over)

Anyways, bringing back the "many are named link but link with fairy is hero link", because both Koridai and Courage have fairies and I don't see a master sword, people outside of Castletown are confusing the two together. As much as Koridai hates being compared/confused to Courage, he will absolutely claim to be the hero just to screw with Courage (and because it's funny). Since player is technically his fairy (they're not) and has magic, they will disguise Koridai as Courage just so Koridai can do dumb shit and make Courage look bad.

I also raise the idea that Koridai and player come into Courage's world during the episodes, and player either gets to watch the shitfest happening while holding on to Koridai via hyrule's equivalent to a backpack leash ("we can't intervene unless it's incredibly dire"), or Koridai and player just hang out until Courage is done (much to Courage's absolute pleasure, ganondorf can barely looks at the entrance before this fashion disaster is firing magic beams in the name of love).

I write all of this to say, I really want more Koridai content🥺, I miss my little meow meow so bad and I don't have creativity to make it (she says dumping content into inbox). I know we're talking about the chain smelling like eight bottles of ass in a can but can I can some Kori please 🥺🥺 (or sprite, why tf does no one talk about sprite I like her more than I like Navi tbh don't tell time) this is like what 5??? That's it in tied and it's been like an hour

THOSE BOYS WOULD ACT LIKE LITTLE SHITS AND I STAND BY THAT!

Also, I promise I'm not abandoning the boys! There will be more content! I just wanna get this chapter done first because everyone's been waiting long enough!

[corysmiles]

Could you believe I actually am back with some Runnaway Experiment WRITING??? :D

This takes place very early on in the story, and gives some more insight into Tommy's life before they escaped (in the comics). Enjoy :D

-------

The experiment was growing years after years, to everyone’s delight. It seemed the first laboratorial human had a decent enough lifespan so that it could be studied in the long run. And so, 14 years, it has been since T0M saw the light of day, and it acted in a similar fashion a 14 year old human would. .

Of course, the many researchers failed to take in consideration an alteration of the most cumbersome. T0M looked human, could understand the english language, followed orders and didn’t complain, asked some questions but the specimen…. was big.

Too big to fit in a human bed.

Too big to fit comfortably in a room.

It went in spurts, which was terrifying the first time. It kept on growing and growing, as scientists hoped it wouldn't take long for it to stop, otherwise, it might lead to a lot of problems. But for the past 2 years, no noticeable change really occurred, which was a relief when the thing was already 25 ft tall. It never seemed to be challenging personality wise, which was a relief, but they still needed to keep him in line.

Hopefully, the Doctor Soot, as well as Doctor Puff took part in daily check ups and made sure he didn’t rebel.

So, every 2 day, they took turns to visit T0M in the room accustomed to its needs.

And both’s reports were excellent! T0M learned more while being as obedient and compliant as ever. Phil couldn’t be more happy with those results.

However, as time went on…. Wilbur failed to mention another kind of teaching he had going on with the subject for the past months.

“And this is called ‘Sadness’.” He held an A3 size paper with a moody smiley drawn on it, the word being written below. “It’s that feeling when our sessions are over and I have to go and you say ‘oh noooo’ in that voice.”

T0M was sitting on his knees in front of him, paying the utmost attention to what Wilbur was showing and saying.

“I hate that one.” He pouted.

“I know,” Wilbur chuckled. “No one likes to feel sad. But it’s a part of life.”

A single hum. Wilbur’s smile turned more sympathetic.

“Do you remember the other ones?” He stood up from his place and put the sheet in one of the dark grey metallic drawers.

T0M nodded, excitedly. He took his hand and poked his fingers as he counted. “ there’s “Happiness”, it’s the good one. And “Disgust”, it’s when I have to eat the weird green stuff.”

“Brocoli”

“That. And then there’s excitement, it’s when I smile real big because you come early.”

Wilbur clapped “Wonderful!” T0M’s eyes were shining stars at every approval from Doctor Soot. Even though T0M’s enjoyment was very appreciated and contagious, but it could be a bit… much, to handle at times.

“Since you understand the basics, I think it’s time for us to start a whole new lesson.” He clapped.

T0M gasped and cheered from the top of his lungs “YEAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”, throwing his arms in the air and effectively making the room shake from the sheer volume of his voice. When he looked back at the scientist, his eyebrows were pinched and the brunette was covering his ears and curled up, almost in pain.

“...Doctor?” He brought his head close to the man who, after making eye contact, scrambled back until he hit the same drawer he put the papers in earlier. T0M looked at him confused, face still too big in Wilbur’s peripheral.

“I… Tom, I appreciate your enthusiasm when we do our lessons, but if you could prevent yourself from screaming, it would be nice.” He tried in the most gentle voice he could muster without it shaking.

“What’s screaming?” T0M asked, crouched so his face was almost on the ground at eye level with him. He brought a hand closer to the doctor who was still breathing heavily. When his head shot to look at the hand, his body on alert, he froze before saying.

“... Is it a moment when I can’t touch you?”

Wilbur’s eyes were locked on the now frozen hand for a good second before returning to T0M, nodding. “Uh, yeah.”

“... Okay.”

The hand retracted in the following seconds, and soon, he was back in his initial position.

The doctor thanked before regaining his composure. He looked back at T0M, and his expression held remorse. A guilt twisted Wilbur's guts at the view. Thing is, as T0M grew up, people quickly realised he was the equivalent of clingy. He would constantly grab people into hugs and had a hard time keeping his voice down which resulted in a large noise blocker investment. And so they had a rule. T0M couldn’t make any sort of physical contact with anyone without being given explicit permission first. Obviously, most workers considered T0M as a test subject and therefore, wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

Wilbur, though, was not in the same vein. Once he realised how empathic and emotional and human T0M was, he started teaching him things a human teen should need, and started giving him a sort of affection a human teen should have. Which included some sort of physical affection.

When T0M was sad, he would sit next to him or pat his back. It quickly evolved as Wilbur accepted being held by the boy and brought to eye level as long as he was careful when doing so, and ever later, they would hug and wilbur would try to brush his hair at times.

Still, that didn’t make him immune to any of T0M’s carelessness which’s consequences were amplified ten fold due to his scale.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked pitifully.

“I- no, it’s not your fault. It can just be a bit overwhelming is all.” Wilbur explained.

“... what does that mean?”

“It means… when something is ‘too much’. Like when you want to bring Techno very close, but he keeps reminding you about the rule.”

“Oh.” T0M let his head fall. “... I don’t like that.” Wilbur scratched his head. “I want to be so close and show that I’m very happy and it’s all inside and I can’t let it out.”

“Well, here, it’s a bit more of the opposite. When outside, there is a lot and you’re incapable of letting it in.”

“... I’m sorry Wilbur” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, I’m not angry.” reassured the brunette. “I just have sensitive ears.”

“...Everyone has sensitive ears.”

“Well, when you’re a small guy like me, you’re sensitive on pretty much all fronts.”

“... It’s not fair.”

“What’s that?” Wilbur perked.

“When I stop getting big and strong, I want to hug you with all of my will. Like you do with me. It feels nice. I want you to feel nice just like that. I want you to be overwhelmed with happiness. I want to hug you so, so bad but I can't and it's shit. I don't want to be strong, I hurt you if I’m strong. I want to hug you."

Tommy vented, more to himself, and when he looked at Wilbur, his eyes shined, not with joy.

"Oh Tommy…."

It ached. It ached Wilbur to his core that something as simple as a hug was something he craved and still couldn't get. Because he knew. He knew all of the things T0M was missing out on. All the life he could have lived if he was granted freedom. How much he could live and appreciate. It kept him awake at night.

But he was here. Trapped. In a room barely tall enough to contain him, treated like a circus monster. And the worst thing was, T0M wasn't aware of it. Of all the life he wasn't living. How his life was no life and how he thinks this absence of everything is what life should be.

Plato would probably laugh in his grave.

"I promise you. One day, you will be able to do that. I promise you that I'll find a way for you to hug me just like you are a small man too. I promise you that I'll make you discover all of those joys of life, Tom. I Promise you. I will help you. And I'm sorry for not being able to provide it sooner. And I'll apologize for all the years it took for me to get it."

They stared at each other, and Tommy nodded, throat tight and eyes wet.

"And a promise makes sure that it's gonna happen." T0M croaked.

"Exactly, tom." Wilbur smiled. "You are going to live many more things."

The bell rang, and both faces fell a bit.

"I'll see you in 4 days, Tom. We're gonna have a little recap over the emotions you learned and then I'll teach you about relationships."

"Oohh, that sounds nice! What is it?"

As Wilbur packed his little bag, he looked at T0M and simply replied "it's all around you. But I'm not gonna spoil the next session. On that note, I wish you a nice week, Tom."

"Have a nice week, Wilbur! " T0M waved with a smile. "It's nice talking to you."

"It is my absolute pleasure, Tom."

And thus, they parted. As Wilbur walked down the immense corridor (just tall enough Tom could run through them.) He wore a satisfied smile. His small steps resonated, the only sound in the room, yet peaceful enough for his ears to listen to them as carefully as silence. Halfway through, the sound was doubled.

"Helloooo."

"Oh, hey techno! How are you?"

"Doing fine. You seem very happy."

"I am. I made some good progress with T-he subject. I feel like he's learning well. The next tests should have fabulous results."

"Ahh, wonderful. Let's make sure it doesn't learn too much though." He joked.

And at that, Wilbur chuckled, his hand on the man's shoulder. "Oh don't you worry about that, my friend. I can assure you that'll never happen"

"Amazing" techno replied, deadpan. Both nodded their conversation away and walked the rest of their ways.

As he got further away, the doctor's smile turned to an amused grin. His steps resonated, so much smaller than what could be, in a corridor in which the boy just next door should walk through.

"Don't you worry about a single thing."

MEL YES I ADORE THIS AU SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

Poor Tommy but at least Wilbur is helping him :”]