#just know it aligns with everything in the video pretty well i’d say

[yieldtotemptation]

PAROXYSM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part two of strange currencies

16k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like you’re not obsessed.

Like you’re not bothered that it’s been weeks since you had Mina—felt the heat of her body, the silk of her skin, the sweetness of her breath on your neck.

Since you've seen that ass. Had it in your hands, spread her cheeks with your fingers, stretched her wide with your cock and left Mina in tears, crying out—

"God, I can never go back from this."

And it’s not like you haven’t been searching for opportunities; a party you’d both be invited to, another gala, some event with enough plausible deniability for when you inevitably, ‘accidentally’ bump into her again.

But for some reason, nothing seems to align.

You’ll get word that she’s in Korea, basking in a rare stretch of free time, while you’re in Hong Kong, signing deals and making promises of dubious sincerity.

You’ll be rushing to return, already planning out how you’ll steal another taste of her, another touch; only to find out she’s been whisked away again—to Japan, or Brazil, or any one of the countless countries desperate to host her.

Glimpses is all you ever truly get—paparazzi shots, magazine covers, the odd video that passes through the digital ether.

So, yeah.

You let it rest, go through the motions, try to recreate it in the aggregate. There are plenty of pretty faces, eager bodies in your orbit.

But they're all just that: bodies.

Empty shells of what you had. They don’t laugh like her, they don’t keep you on your toes like she can, they don’t look at you with the same hunger.

(They don’t say your name like Mina did.)

—

“So,” is the first word you hear from Mina. Too much time has passed, and you’ve officially given up on any pretences of nonchalance. Decided to get straight to the point with the right people and just get her number. “I guess I’m not the only one who can’t stop thinking about that night.”

“Uncharted territory and all,” you’re repeating, and there’s a beat of silence on the other line.

A deep breath, and you swear you can hear her smile. “Definitely unique.”

It’s well past midnight and you’re tired and you’re feeling unusually vulnerable, so you're admitting things you'd usually keep under lock and key. “It’s been—you’ve been stuck in my head, Mina.”

“I know the feeling,” she sighs. Just the timbre of her voice and there’s shivers down your spine. “The memory alone is still—”

You finish for her, “Vivid.”

“I was going to say really fucking hot, but yes,” she laughs. “It’s helped me through some lonely nights. Remembering how you felt inside me, everything we did together it’s—God, you have no idea.”

“I’d argue I have the entire idea. For one—the stairs,” you’re supplying, grinning to yourself, leaning back in your chair, remembering the way she clung to you. How tight she was around you, how fucking new she felt as you filled her. “You were so fucking gorgeous. Never felt anything like it.”

“And the shower,” she counters, “you had me pinned against the tiles. Couldn’t move without you fucking me deeper. Just stuck with nowhere to go but further down your cock. No one’s ever done that to me.”

“Don’t forget the kitchen,” you add, “We got pretty creative with the utensils.”

Mina giggles. You didn't know she was capable of sounding so girlish. “I’ll never look at a spatula the same.”

It’s getting dangerous, each memory rekindling the flame of a night that you’d tried to convince yourself couldn’t have been as epic as you remembered. Couldn’t have mattered so much.

And yet here you are now, letting Mina stir up thoughts of her cunt gushing down her thighs, her nipples stiffening between your teeth, her ass choking your cock, the look on her face when she came all over you—and you know she’s wading through the very same set of flashbacks.

“Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that garden. Your hands are all over me, your mouth everywhere—”

“Your cunt on my tongue—”

“Your fingers in my ass—”

“Your fucking moans, Mina—”

“Wait, I need to—”

Mina stops you, and you find yourself releasing a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You think you can hear her; hear the shutting of a door, a lock turning, frantic pacing, the squeak of a bed.

Your eyes close and you're picturing it now—Mina, laid back on pure white sheets, sprawled out like a Goddess. It's all there, crystal clear. Fingers dancing over her collarbones, tracing the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts.

Teasing herself, running her thumbs over her areola, the skin there a shade darker, a touch more sensitive. Pinching and pulling, peaks hardening into tight buds, missing the roughness of your tongue.

And then going lower, down over her ridged abs and between her toned thighs. Spreading her legs out in an invitation, toes curling into the mattress. Finding herself slick with need, so, so soaked. Dipping down to trace over her folds before sliding right into the wet heat.

Mina gasps. It's not your imagination. She moans into the phone.

You can almost taste her again.

She finds her voice. "Please, keep talking."

—

The first photo comes through the very next day.

You can intuit from the architecture in the background—the steep roofs, the brick exteriors, the gothic towers—she’s somewhere in Paris.

And there’s Mina, flat on her stomach, sheets tangled around her like the aftermath of a hurricane that’s swept through. Smiling at you straight down the barrel of the camera, cutting through the digital space between you. It’s sly and knowing and a little bit wicked, because she knows that it’s not the view of the city behind her that you’re looking at, nor is it even her face, usually so stunningly unavoidable and instantly captivating.

It's her ass.

Plump and round, poking over her shoulder, filling a whole corner of the frame. And you're spotting the indentations where your fingers have sunk in, the stretch of alabaster that your grip turned a shade of pink. A map of memories etched across the curve of her cheeks.

It’s a thousand words in a single photo, a message loud and clear, carefully composed to make you ache. So, you do. You ache.

You save the picture—not because you think you’re going to forget, but because you need to have a piece of her with you at all times.

Something to pull out when the days are too long, too dull. Something to look at when your memories of her aren’t enough anymore.

The photo, you notice, comes with a caption: ‘The only thing missing here is you.’

—

“Stability,” Mina’s telling you nights later, after you’ve spent close to an hour describing to her all the ways you’d like to have her again, like to break her down until she’s just a trembling mess of limbs and cum.

It’s a habit the two of you have picked up; these clandestine calls that come in the dead of night, during those rare occasions you’re in a reasonable enough time zone to talk. You’re actually in the same country this time. The States, but on different coasts, so, close enough.

She’s sending these breathy whispers down the phone; still coming down from her high, from the way her thighs clenched around her own hand, from the way she painted your name onto her skin with her own juices.

Still coming down from you, from the meticulously detailed step-by-step explanations of exactly what you’d do to her if you weren’t thousands of kilometres apart.

“Stability,” you repeat the answer she’s given to the question that’s been burning in your mind for weeks now. It’s certainly a faux pas to ask right after she’s made you cum across your own chest; but it’s late, and tonight’s suite is far too big and much too quiet—the kind of quiet that lets you think too much.

And so you had to ask her. Why was she still with him?

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Mina confirms. “I like stability, I like routine, I like knowing what to expect. Means I can never be disappointed.”

“Never be surprised, either,” you point out. She laughs, the sound warm and rich through the speaker.

“That’s never really been a problem.” She pauses. “Until you.”

There’s an alarm bell sounding somewhere, triggered by the way that last syllable curls around the corners of her lips, bounces across fifty different states to land in your ear.

You.

It rattles around your brain, punches you right in the gut. You try to play it off with a chuckle. But you both know what this really is. The desperation, the need. What you do to each other. How much of a fucking mess you’d make together if you had half the chance.

You make an attempt at being casual: “Apologies, then.”

“You kinda fuck everything up for me, you know?” She admits. “I was fine with it all. Leaving all of this as just a fantasy. Living with the boredom.”

“Everything’s boring.”

“Except this.”

You should really be above all this. The pining, the yearning. Having a crush.

It’s unbecoming.

Leave her alone. Leave her to the dream life she’s built up for herself. The career, the boyfriend, the whole shiny package that everyone’s decided she should want. It’d be the rational thing to do.

And yet— “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“I suppose,” Mina says, and once again, you're swearing you can hear her smile through the phone, because this is far from the end of things, “We’ll just have to find some way to scratch this itch.”

—

(It’s an outrageous abuse of power.

But so what? You’re an asshole billionaire, that’s what everyone expects of you anyway.

Besides, compared to your peers, it falls far short of bankrupting entire economies or causing irreparable damage to the Earth’s oceans and atmosphere.

So why not go full tilt and really indulge?

That’s basically the gist of your justification for forcing fate’s hand and manifesting your own ‘accidental’ meeting with Mina.

Still. It’s only a meeting.)

—

“Quite a situation you’ve engineered here,” is Mina’s first quip, as she steps right out of your daydreams and into your office.

Oh, you’ve been thinking of her.

Spent time replaying that night in your mind, revisiting the sight of her bouncing on that staircase, the feel of her soft skin slapping against yours, the sound of her sighs in your ears.

Obsessed over the messages, the photos, the videos she’s sent—how she moves, that coy smile on her face when she knows she’s got your full attention in her grip. All these mesmerising moments captured in high-definition.

And it’s coming back to you now—the waterfall of hair cascading down her shoulders, the red of her lips, the beauty spot on her nose, above her cupid’s bow—a constellation across her face.

(She makes your office feel small.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, aiming for flippant, but missing the mark by a wide margin.

“Mhm,” is all you’re going to get, because you both know better.

She makes herself at home here, taking the long way to your desk. Hips swaying as she runs her fingers over the décor, the lights and the statues, the books and the furniture. Again, fitting right in with the expensive, the luxurious, the exclusive.

You’re not hiding that you’re staring, and she’s not hiding that she knows either.

Mina walks right past you, turns away so you can see the full sweep of her back, the high-waisted skirt that hugs her curves before flaring out at the waist. Eventually, she stops at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city, the urban sprawl below a far cry from the palatial gardens that backdropped your first encounter.

The sun’s setting overhead. It casts a warm glow over her. Outlines her figure in gold.

You break the silence, "Heard the photoshoot went well."

“Well, you get what you pay for,” is Mina’s second quip of the afternoon. She turns back to face you, leaning against the window frame, a perfect silhouette.

You can almost hear the glass tremble.

Mina asks, offhandedly, “You’ll have to enlighten me—is it standard practice for visitor passes to have access to every floor in the tower?”

“Security must be lacking.”

“Right,” Mina says. “And is it normal in your line of work, for the CEO to handpick the brand ambassadors?”

You shrug. “I like to get my hands dirty.”

“If that’s what they’re calling it,” she responds, smiling now. Pushing herself off the glass and taking a dangerous step forward.

“We were looking to appeal to our Japanese market,” you say, repeating the same lines you fed to your team, to her management, to anyone who bothered to raise an eyebrow. It’s a good lie. “Needed someone refined, someone that depicted class. Aspirational.”

Mina takes another step forward. Heels that make her legs look endless hitting the polished flooring with a click. "So that's how you see me, then."

"Amongst other, less appropriate things," you admit, already completely, hopelessly captivated.

"Let me guess: Stunning?"

"That's one."

“Fuckable.”

“Absolutely.”

“Submissive?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?”

Mina’s eyes dazzle as she closes the distance, rounding your desk and stopping just short of your chair. She waits for you to swivel and face her.

And then she leans forward, so close. Nose brushing yours, breath warm and sweet and familiar. Her hands land on your thighs, pushing your legs apart.

She drops to her knees.

“Telling.”

You can’t help yourself, you press your thumb to her lips, stamping it crimson.

It’s a wicked thing, how Mina’s bottom lip dips, how her tongue snakes out to lick the pad of your thumb clean. You push in deeper, watching as she takes you into her mouth, seals her lips around you and sucks.

How she’s looking at you now—building up this image of Mina; kneeling, the skirt riding up, her panties soaked with anticipation. Dressed like this is just another business meeting—masked in a high neckline and a smile so perfect against your skin.

That's today's game. Dress up.

Professionalism went out the window the moment she walked in—it barely crosses your mind to wonder whether or not she locked the door. You don’t even care.

Mina stops her little show, thumb pops out of her mouth with a wet sound, leaving a smear of red behind. There’s something about Mina, something that can’t be intuited unless she’s right in front of you, inhaling your exhales, smiling up at you like you're the only person in the entire world that matters.

It's like magic—makes everything and everyone else feel like a figment of your imagination.

“You forgot to mention a few other things,” Mina breathes on you, low and warm, priming you for a punchline that you know will send you reeling.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” and she starts unbuttoning her blouse, reaching for the top button then— “How utterly,”

Then the next button.

“Desperately,”

More still.

“Needy,”

All of them.

“I am for your wonderful, perfect cock.”

The blouse opens up, falls away, drifts off her shoulders until it’s blood-red lace and vanilla-white skin.

Fuck.

(Mina’s not from this world, no fucking way. Definitely not human; jury’s out on if she’s some kind of Goddess. Probably something in between, come down from some place where the air is thinner and the lights are brighter.)

Your mouth is dry. “I could never forget.”

Mina’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Lips spread wide. She’s kissing your cock through your pants.

It’s electric. A long, teasing press of her lips that winds you so tight that just the slightest touch, just a single word could set you off.

Her teeth graze the fabric. You throb through the cotton.

“Mina,” you manage, hand dropping to the side of her face. There’s a tremor in your voice that you’re not used to, that you can’t even pretend to hide. Mina’s got you in the palm of her hand—or rather, on the edge of her lips—even though she’s the one on her knees.

“Relax,” she coos, holding her lips against you, deft fingers unlatching your belt, finding your zipper. “Let me take care of you. Let me take care of this cock,” honeyed words slipping out with the same ease that tugs you free, “Get my tongue all over it, take it deep down my throat, be such a good little whore for you—until you can’t think of anything but how much you want me to swallow every drop you’ve got for me, baby.”

You swallow, caress her cheek, “Darling—”

“Shh," Mina hushes, taking your cock into her hand, holding it against her cheek. So damn happy to have it so close to her mouth once again. “Everything you said over the phone. All that stuff about fucking my face, leaving a mess, filling up my throat—I want it all. You’re going to give it to me now, please.”

She doesn’t even look up at you, just so focused on your cock. Kissing around the shaft, and then drawing her tongue in one, slow, dragging lick all the way from your base, right to the tip. It’s gentle, careful, exploratory.

Introducing her lips to every inch of skin along your cock, over your balls, taking her time to stain all of you with the sheen of her kisses. Careful, so careful. Meticulous too, deep in concentration that you can almost feel her thoughts, intuit from the pressure of her lips how much this means to her. How much she needs it.

And it’s as her breath warms the head of your cock that you realise you’ve got a stranglehold on the armrest of your chair, holding it so tightly you could snap it in two. Not like there’s any helping it, nothing to do but brace yourself as she opens her mouth, pink tongue peeking out, and licks you again—longer, slower.

Holding still now, cock balanced on her tongue, fixing you with this stare.

A dare.

(Don’t move. Don’t interrupt. Let her do her work.)

That’s when her boyfriend calls.

Sorry, her partner.

A jarring noise, a slap in the face that breaks the spell. Vibrating atop your oak desk, a violent buzzing through the room—once, twice, thrice.

Mina’s eyes flick to yours. A split second, a single thought shared. There’s laughter on her lips because of course, because why the fuck not, because this is definitely your kind of chaos. You nod. You’re both in on the joke.

The phone’s still ringing, ringing, ringing.

And Mina’s mouth is still on you, tongue tickling underneath, lips wrapping around, before taking you in deep. Right as she accepts the call.

“Hmf?”

—

(A good idea to mention this theory you’ve been brewing for a while, the other reason why Mina still hasn’t broken up with boyfriend.

Because of you.

Because of how much fucking hotter it makes her. The thrill, the rush, putting a blemish on an otherwise spotless record.

And maybe you’re just as guilty—because you want to hear her lie to him too.)

—

“Still working,” is Mina’s deadpan over the phone, somehow keeping a straight face despite how full her hands are with you. She even rolls her eyes. “You know how it is—unreasonable CEOs jumping down my throat for no good reason at all.”

This woman.

Churning lies with such ease that you almost feel sorry for the poor, oblivious soul on the other end of the phone. Almost.

But Mina's too good at all of this. Too good at hiding it all. Too good at everything, really—whether it's singing, dancing, kneeling before you, making your cock disappear down her throat.

Just a slight adjustment in posture, and she’s taking you in deeper. A gentle suck, a swirl of her tongue around the ridge—and oh, the way she’s looking at you, eyes up and so damn full of mischief.

She’s fucking loving this. Loving the way you’re watching her, the way your hand finds her hair as she takes you in, the way you’re fighting to keep your composure. Fighting to keep your breath even and calm and to stop yourself from groaning so loud that it won’t just be her boyfriend, but the whole fucking tower that’s going to hear how much of a slut she is for you.

You can still hear his voice coming through—muted, indistinct—like a ghost, haunting the edges of this pornographic scene you’ve painted together. 

Fuck this guy likes to talk.

“Mhm,” is all Mina has to say to keep him convinced, to let him believe that she’s actually invested in whatever the fuck he’s on about. Keeping him none the wiser that her full attention is on you, her mouth moving up and down, her eyes glued to yours, watching every twitch, every drop of pleasure that flits across your face.

She reaches up with her free hand, wrapping it around the base of your cock. Gliding along your shaft in this twisting movement that sets your nerves alight.

Everything’s just so tight—her grip, her throat, your own breath in your chest.

“Mhm,” again, longer, sounding closer and closer to a moan than a casual agreement, but still, she’s playing the part. Barely listening to what he’s saying, because she’s doing this thing with her tongue—right at the tip, flicking it around your slit—that’s making you test the strength of your chair.

There’s temptation here—her mouth so warm, so wet—it would be so easy to grab a fistful of her hair and fuck her mouth like you know she wants. But you keep your cool, keep your hand gentle and steady atop her head, let her dictate the rhythm.

And when you hear the voice over the phone rise, maybe a bit of frustration or concern, maybe the start of something suspicious, Mina shamelessly pops your cock out of your mouth and answers, “Just having a snack. Late lunch break.”

She hits the mute button.

Bows her head deep, savouring each inch as she takes you deeper, making this fucking sound when your cock hits the back of the throat. Wet, gagging, sloppy noises that build this tension right at the base of your spine that leaves you aching, absolutely desperate to just give her more.

She holds herself there, choking so nicely, so sweetly, on your cock. Her eyes start water, it’s an effort to keep them open, but she’s still smiling through it all, just so delighted to finally taste what she’s been dying to have for weeks.

You’re struggling, “Fucking hell, Mina.”

Mina giggles into your cock, vibrating along your shaft. Pulls her head back; just a rope of spit that connects the two of you, glinting under the fluorescent lights. A poke of her tongue has her scooping it all up and slurping it all down, smacking her lips with a satisfied ‘ah’.

She unmutes.

“Sorry, it just tastes really good. Like nothing I’ve had before.”

There’s a confused murmur coming out of the speaker, a perturbed, “Really?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” and Mina has the gall to wink at you, the audacity to keep her hand on your cock, stroking it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. All the while she just chats to her boyfriend—partner, again—like you’re not about to cover her face with your entire load.

“Mina,” you let slip when she squeezes too hard, cranes her head to feel the weight of your balls on her tongue. Lapping away, licking and tonguing and teasing, until you’re gritting your teeth, holding back the moan that wants to break free.

The voice at the end of the line crackles, “Who’s that?”

Mina doesn’t miss a beat, “Boss for the day,” presses a wet kiss onto the head of your cock in a futile attempt to still you, “Really pushing me hard, making me work for it, you know?”

The voice relaxes, but not enough. “What’s going on over there? Something doesn’t sound right.”

“Everything’s perfect.” Mina’s just so pleased with herself, tongue dancing up and down, over and around, making the chair creak from the reflexive jerk she forces out of you. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t do these types of jobs, you should listen to me and—”

“Get on my hands and knees and beg them to let me break the contract?” Mina smirks up at you, lips all smeared and messy with your arousal. “I can handle it” she continues on, dragging her lips to your base so she can slur into your waist, “I’m a professional. This is what I’m built for.”

God, he really doesn't deserve her.

He drops the subject so easily, moving on to talk more about him, about his schedules, his work, his boring fucking existence outside of her. And now you’re both rolling your eyes, sharing this secret, this ridiculousness that’s got you both on the edge of laughter and utter bliss.

Mina ups the ante, mutes her side of the call, and places the phone back on top of the desk.

You cock an eyebrow. “Seriously, him?”

She shakes her head. “No, just you.”

And she shows you, proves her point, because Mina’s not one for half-measures. Holds your cock tightly, strokes it again and again, one after another like it’s counting down to something explosive. Bomb’s ticking: the pressure’s building, the heat is coiling in your balls, but she keeps it steady, keeps it slow, keeps it right on that edge where it’s just enough to keep you there, but not enough to push you over.

“I’m just yours,” Mina hums, licking her swollen lips. “I’m yours to do with as you please, but,” she pauses, so she can jerk you just right, stroking with such finesse that you can't believe she's ever been with someone who didn't appreciate it, "I'm really hoping you let me swallow your cock now."

“You’re too fucking greedy.” 

Mina nods so earnestly.

So you give her what she wants, because what’s the point of playing this game if she isn’t going to win? 

You stroke the back of her head, guide her as she takes you all the way—nose to stomach, swallowing you up like you’re her favourite snack, her favourite secret. Her favourite lie to tell herself.

Fucking ridiculous. Too fucking much.

You lift your hips, leaving her to yank down your pants over your knees and to the ground. The clank of your belt buckle against marble echoes through the room, a starting gun to your undoing.

The phone’s still there, he’s still talking, a vaguely muffled annoyance. Mina doesn't even spare it a glance, just looks up at you, mouth full, eyes declaring:

‘Ignore everything else, just enjoy me.’

Fuck.

Mina’s cheeks hollow, her throat pulses, and gone is the usual effortless grace that she carries through everything she does.

No, she’s all raw, all passion. Sloppy now, greedy, showing you just how much she’s willing to do for you. It’s in the way she’s using her hand to squeeze the base of your shaft, the way she’s bobbing her head faster and faster.

Filling the room with the sounds of her slurps and smacking of her lips; her eyes watering with every deepthroat. Making her mouth this perfect, wet, hot little cave that’s swallowing you whole.

And you’re watching, watching every single move she makes. Unable to do anything else, really. Unable to think, to speak, to do anything but stare at her mouth, her eyes, her hand moving up and down, up and down—stare at Mina giving herself over to you.

“Jesus—fuck—” and there’s your voice back again, so much louder than you intended.

But Mina’s smiling around your cock, eyes still on you, urging you on, putting you under her spell. She’s playing with your balls now, her thumb brushing over the sensitive skin, her nails lightly scraping, and it’s like she’s got every button mapped out, knows exactly how to make you go off the deep end.

"Mina, you're just so," you try, rummaging through your addled mind for the right words to pin on this storm before you, "so fucking good at this," you finally settle on.

Mina's eyes light up, triumphant. Deep pools of brown swirling with all sorts of things—few that can be said out loud and even fewer that should ever be thought—and none of which she gives a flying fuck about.

Your cock slides off her lips long enough for her to slur, "Flattery gets you everywhere, sir."

“Mina.”

She's just so happy with it all—it's a little unsettling. Mina, all elegance and poise, so fucking giddy at the opportunity to debase herself at your feet.

She takes a breath, a real one, not the shallow, desperate ones she’s been taking for the past few minutes, and then she’s diving back down. You can see the determination in the set of her jaw, the way she’s holding herself in place with one hand on your thigh so she can devour you whole. And she’s doing a phenomenal job, really, because your cock’s so hard it’s almost painful, and your thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping still.

But she’s not done yet, Mina’s never done. She reaches behind her, unclips her bra with a flick of her thumb, slipping it off her shoulders—a silent, unnoticed escape.

Perfect little tits, perfect little dusky nipples, peaked and ready for your attention. 

She takes one in her hand, rolls the nub between her fingers, playing with it, plucking it like a guitar string, making it sing. Making sure you’re still looking, while she's still sucking you off with her mouth, still fucking grinning around your cock.

A true masterclass in multitasking.

Her other hand stays on you, working in tandem with her mouth. A stroke for every bob, a squeeze for every moan, and she’s whining into your skin, a muffled—mmph, mmph, mmph—so loving that you know it’s not just for show.

Her hand drops down, slipping between her legs, disappearing into the fabric of her skirt. You can’t quite see it, but you know by her sigh as she leans into your thigh, by the way her other hand pinches her nipple harder, that she’s pressing up and into herself.

The fabric’s too thick to see much, but you can imagine her—fuck, you don’t have to imagine—you can almost feel her, her fingers sliding into her wetness, her palm cupping her mound, her middle finger circling her clit like it’s the head of a tiny drum, matching the same rhythm that’s been driving this whole spectacle.

“Your fucking mouth, Mina.”

The words leave you on a groan, a tightening of your grip on her head as she just plays and plays. Every suck pure heaven, warm, wet, utterly divine; pulling your hips closer and closer off the edge of your seat, until you’re nearly falling down her throat.

But even Mina, for all her skill and polish, can’t hold out forever. The fingers at her cunt, the kneading of her own tits, the gagging around your cock, the oblivious boyfriend still blissfully unaware of the depraved scene unfolding on the other end of the line.

It’s a heady cocktail, and she’s had too much too quickly. Her throat’s tightening around you, rogue tears are sliding down her cheeks, and it’s about time that you both give up on pretence and hurtle straight to the crux of this entire escapade.

You stand, rising to your feet before Mina has you tumbling off your chair, sliding your cock out of her chasing lips.

“Mina,” you breathe, voice full of gravel, heavy.

Mina’s frozen, just staring at your cock dangling above her nose, her mouth open and wet, her big, brown eyes begging for its return to her lips.

“Mina,” you repeat.

“Mmm?”

“I want to fuck your face now.”  

Mina licks her lips. “Want to?”

“I will.”

“Please,” she says, a single word like a hot knife slicing through whatever restraint you have let. And you’re just about to lose it, really fucking lose it because she’s so fucking eager, so fucking hot for it, so absolutely fucking yours.

In your office, at your desk, kneeling at your feet, skirt rucked up around her waist, panties drenched.

She ties up her hair into a messy bun.

“Please, use me.”

A twist of your hips has your cock slapping against her cheek, the sound bouncing off the walls, leaving a trail of gloss across her flushed skin.

Mina laughs.

You lean down, grab her hair, thread your fingers through the strands, and guide her lips to where they were made to be.

“Christ,” is ripped from your throat as your cock is back down hers, plunging into her mouth like its home.

You push, push until her nose is squished against your pelvis, holding her there; her throat tight against your cock, her hand working her clit in double time. Whimpers escape past her lips, muffled whines that threaten to break you if you’ll let it.

But you don’t, not yet. You pull out, just long enough to let her gasp for air, only, she doesn't need the respite. She just blinks, and begs—

“Again.”

And again. And again.

Until she’s a writhing mess, until she’s shaking with the effort of holding herself together, until you’re plunging into her mouth so fast that you’re truly fucking her throat.

Deep, harsh strokes that make her cheek bulge, that fuck tears from her eyes. And Mina fucking loves it. Loves every second of it, loves having her head thrown back, her throat working for you like it’s your divine right, like her sole purpose in life has been to take your cock.

You’re fucking her face like you said you would, like she’s been begging you to do for weeks, whispering sweet nothings and filthy somethings into your ear during those late-night phone calls. Giving exactly what she’s been craving, exactly what she’s been dreaming about when she fucked herself so nicely for you to hear.

And she’s just taking it, letting you use her mouth like it’s nothing, because to her, it’s everything.

She’s lost in it, her hand a blur between her legs, her eyes glazed over. She’s so close, so fucking close, and she’s taking you with her; dragging you down into this pit of depravity that she’s been keeping warm for you.

“Mina?”

And there’s the phone again. Louder now, insistent, demanding. Finally noticing somethings not quite right.

"Mina?"

There’s panic in Mina’s eyes—but you’re quick to realise it’s not worry for him. It’s desperation for you. For you to keep going, for you to not notice, for you to keep the fantasy alive.

But you do notice. And it just makes you harder.

You're too far gone now—you're thrusting into her mouth with a fervour that’s almost violent. Mina’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes it all, letting you fuck her face with a reckless abandon that’s only heightened by the voice on the phone getting louder, more concerned.

You’re the only voice she’ll listen to now. “Hold still for me, Mina.”

Her eyes go wide, and she nods, her mouth stretched wide around you. Cradling her cheeks, just firm enough to feel the heat of her blush.

“Mina, why are you muted?”

She’s barely even on this planet anymore—just bringing herself closer to the edge, loosening these ragged, wet moans around your pistoning cock.

“Mina, are you ignoring me again, seriously?”

“Mmph—fuh—mmph—” is her attempt at an answer, but she’s too busy letting you use your mouth, too busy fucking herself on her fingers, too busy being the perfect little slut she’s told you she wanted to be.

It fills the room—the sounds of wet, sloppy sucking, careless fucking, your own grunts of pleasure. And somewhere in the background, that voice getting more and more insistent.

“Mina, say something, answer me!”

And she does. Just not to him. She says it to you, mouth full, eyes on yours.

Garbled, stuttered, fucked-up little pleas— “there—there—please—please—oh my god—"

Her hand moves faster, her throat seizes, her eyes roll back in her head. Her body jerks, her hand still working her clit, her mouth still full of you.

Mina cums at your feet, a terrible, beautiful orchestra of noises—moaning, gurgling, gagging around your cock. Swallowing, desperate for a breath of air, trying not to choke, eyes watering so badly it’s a surprise she can see you at all.

You pull out, so abruptly that she gasps and stumbles a little. And yet, despite it all, despite how brutally hard and fast her orgasm hits her, she’s still smiling up at you, as graceful and gorgeous as ever.

So fucking proud of herself.

And she’s not done yet. She’s never done, not really.

Her hand comes up to catch you, holding your cock like an anchor, keeping you ready as she takes a moment to recover. The other reaches for the phone, a shaky hand bringing it to her lips, level with your own tip.

She takes a breath. She’s going to answer.

She unmutes again.

“Sorry. Can’t talk. Gotta finish something big.”

“Mina—what the fuck are you—”

Mina gives you that look—that nod.

Sucks you in one last time, gives you a final choke. A desperate gag, a deep impossible swallow down her throat. And then she releases you from her lips.

The phone clatters to the floor, forgotten.

“Cum for me, please, baby.”

At her instruction, you're erupting.

Mina captures the head of your cock with her lips, keeps it balanced on the edge. Uses both hands to twist and wind around your shaft. Overwhelming you, seizing you into her mouth because this is exactly what she’s been starved for.

Breaking a fucking dam inside you, flooding her mouth with your cum, completing her with your taste. It hits the back of her throat, thick and hot and she swallows and swallows and swallows.

So fucking grateful for every drop, for every pulse that shoots into her mouth, coating her tongue, sliding down her throat. She’s drinking you down like water, like air, like she can’t get enough of you, leaving you breathless until all you can do is just repeat her name over and over again—an endless chant of “Mina.”

And when you’re finally done, when every nerve-ending in your legs isn’t burning down and threatening to take you with it, you pull out of her mouth, gasping for air.

Mina just sits there.

Looking up at you, naked chest heaving, nipples stinging red. Cum slipping out the corners of her mouth, staining her chin. Skirt ruined, panties a sodden mess around her ankles. Hand still on your cock, coaxing you to peace.

And fuck, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

With a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, Mina reaches down to the floor and picks up the phone. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, not even bothering to be delicate about it.

"Hey," she says, voice miraculously calm and collected. "Sorry—got distracted."

You watch, utterly stunned, as she plays the part of the girlfriend so flawlessly, puts on an Oscar-worthy performance. You can hear the boyfriend's voice, frantic and worried—and completely fooled.

But then she looks at you, clears her throat, and her smile goes wide, and you can see the woman beneath the façade. The woman who's had enough of being bored. Who's decided that she's owed the impossible fantasy.

Kneeling on the floor, yet more powerful than ever.

So, so fucking perfect.

Spreading her thighs, fingers back at her cunt, carefully toying with her clit. Building herself back up to that peak she’s just thrown herself from, because apparently, that’s what you’ve taught her to do.

To never settle, never stop, never be satisfied with just one taste.

You’re cock throbs.

“Mina, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Her hand moves faster, her thumb circling and pressing, her middle finger slipping inside herself. You can see the gleam under the artificial lights, how her cunt’s making everything sticky and messy.

Making herself nice and ready.

“There's a big mess here,” she says into the phone, all sugary sweet, a perfect story that drips from her tongue like molasses. “Lot of clean up. It’s ruined me—ruined the whole job. It’s gonna keep me here all fucking night.”

—

(It’s just an arrangement.

That’s what you’re calling it when the moon’s rising over your office, and Mina’s kissing these promises over your heart, drawing up the terms of this unwritten contract that neither of you can really commit to—even though you're both well aware of how much you want to.

Sex, as an agreement. Sex, as a release. Sex, because you’re both fucking incredible at it.

It just might be everything you both need.

You're both just too afraid to be the first to say it out loud.) 

—

Weeks later, and you get really fucking good at making time for her.

Whether it’s fifteen minutes at a party, a couple hours at an airport, or a few nights spent in a hotel room with the curtains drawn and a do not disturb sign nailed to the door—everything starts to fall into place.

There's always an empty room to be pulled in to, a shadow to be claimed, a corner of the world that belongs to you.

It’s Mina, straddling you in the backseat of a limo, her cunt tight around you as the city lights slide by. Your hand on her throat, not choking but guiding, a conversation based on pressure and pleasure alone. Her tits bounce in your face, begging for your teeth, and you give it to them, biting down until she’s gasping your name into the leather upholstery. The chauffeur pretends not to notice. You don’t pretend anything.

It's you, bending her over the bathroom counter of some stranger’s house, her rather business-like slacks down at her feet to expose the bare, wonderful convex of her ass. You spank her until she’s crying, until she’s bright red and demanding that you make good on your promise to fill her up so she can’t leave this party without globs of you leaking down her legs.

It’s hotel beds that have seen too much, office desks forced to bear your weight, dressing rooms with the door locked tight.

It’s the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching, the way she says your name. How she laughs, how she teases you, how she lets you in—just a little, just enough to keep you hooked. And you do the same.

It’s sex, but it’s not just sex, no matter what you tell yourself.

And it’s Mina again, fixing her hair while you zip her into something far more appropriate, already mentioning, “I'm going to be in New York next week, if you're in the area—"

And it's you, answering in the same way that you always do, "I’ll find a way."

—

Serendipity finds the two of you in Shanghai, amidst all its concrete jungle and neon lights, kept at bay by the soundproof windows and the drawn curtains of this hotel room turned temporary sanctuary.

Mina's stretched out on the bed, wearing one of your shirts that swallows her up to her knees, her hair a mess of curls and knots that she hasn't bothered to tame. Nose buried in a book—something thick and weighty Nayeon recommended her.

Paying no mind to you, as you’re busy brewing tea in the kitchenette (piping hot, oolong, how she likes it).

You sneak a glance as you wait for the kettle to boil, at the perfect picture she's composing—her bare legs peeking out from the shirt, the soft curve of her waist, the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows across her skin.

It's seeing her like this, far more exposed and naked than minutes ago when she was pinned beneath you wearing nothing at all, draining your cum into her cunt and thanking you for the privilege.

The drawbridge is coming down, guards leaving their posts—just the two of you in your stolen moments.

It's nice.

She catches you staring.

Tilts her chin down, peering at you over her glasses.

You ask, "Am I distracting you?"

"Always," she says, and it's loaded with the sum of whispered secrets and inside jokes, the weight of a dozen different glances stolen across crowded rooms. She closes the book, setting it aside, and pats the you-shaped imprint on the spread next to her. "Come here."

You bring a steaming cup over, handing it to her, adding a little more warmth to her side of the bed. An unneeded murmur of thanks, a smile that's brighter than any of the skyscrapers gleaming outside, and a careful sip.

You wait for her review.

A cool, clear, "Ah."

And as for your reward, she sets the mug down on her lap, closing her eyes and pursing her lips. Waiting, patiently.

It's built in you like a habit now—lean in, get the light peck you're owed. Gentle press against her lips, nose bumping up against her glasses, sweetness that makes her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink.

Just so fucking cute and domestic that it almost feels wrong.

The normalcy, you're realising—doing something that millions of other people do every single day—kisses that aren’t about fucking, power plays and games. Kisses that are just...kisses.

Mina's on the same wavelength, that's her thing now. Looking at you with a slanted smile. A little disbelieving, a little amused.

You're sure you're mirroring it back.

“This is... weird, right?” You finally say, breaking the silence. Feeling the weight of the question, the implication of what you’re really asking. Is this okay? Is it allowed? Can we put a name on this without the whole world imploding?

Mina's smile doesn't falter. "Kinda," she says, and her hand's slipping into yours, her thumb tracing little circles against your palm. “Very. But also, good.”

You nod, not quite believing it. You've had relationships (is that what you're calling this now?)—but none of them felt like this. Like, sure, she makes you hard, but fuck if she doesn't make you weak.

Pulling you into this loop of familiarity, learning things about her that you would've dismissed if it was anyone else. Not just the carnal things—the ones that make her thighs run with need, that make her chant your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Normal people things. Snack addictions, sleeping habits, temperature controls.

The mug goes to the bedside table, and Mina twists her body into yours, landing her head on your lap and curling her legs up so they stay on the bed.

"You know," she says, still holding your hand, fingers tracing up your forearm now, nails drawing in a light tattoo. "I thought that this wouldn't work out."

You mention the obvious. "Because you still, technically, have a boyfriend?"

Mina stretches herself out against your waist, incidental movements that just so happen to make you stir. "No, darling," she's saying, turning to look at you, making your heart stutter. "It's because you're you. Relationships just don’t seem to be in your nature."

You feign injury.  

Even though, truth be told, she has a point there. You’ve never been one for the quiet moments, for the mundane comforts, mornings next to someone you spent the night with.

Maybe it's your own guardrails you've put up, maybe it's some sappy Trojan Horse she's pushed through the gates of your stoic heart—but here you are, stroking her hair while she holds your hand, your fingers playing with the soft strands like you're trying to learn Braille.

"You know," she says, reaching it out to run her thumb down the line of your jaw, "guys like you are all the same."

You arch a brow. "I think I’ve heard this one before.”

"Let me finish," she says, "Obsessed with the thrill of the chase, with the idea of something you can't have. And when you finally get it, you just...disappear."

She grants you the headspace to ruminate over that one. 

"Are you saying I already have you?"

"Haven’t figured it out yet?" she whispers, shifting her weight on the bed. Another Mina special, the incidental movements, shirt pulling taut against her, and with benevolent grace, it slides down an inch. The swell of her breast revealed, an already pebbled nipple peeking out. A shy secret. As if.

And she knows. Mina knows what it takes to turn you on because, deep down, she’s the same. Different animals, same beasts, the roles could easily be flipped: her the billionaire, you the idol, and it would still end up the same.

You’re both chasers of thrills, craving the high of the untouchable, the unattainable.

Doing whatever it takes to feel alive—that's what it boils down to, isn't it?

"I meant it, you know," you're saying, exposing yourself, all gooey and raw. "Never once dreamt of owning you."

It's obvious where Mina's headed with this. So used to people just laying claim of her without even asking—like it's their fucking right. Believing that just because she’s in their vicinity, smiling all pretty and dressed up, she's fair game. Thinking the fame has done to her what it's done to so many others, turned them into commodities.

And maybe she's let them believe the fantasy, it's her job after all, to fuel the delusion and make it feel real. But never once did she truly belong to anyone but herself.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Mina lifts herself off your lap, body bowing, leaving the shirt to ghost down her arms and leave her chest bare.

Closer still, until she's straddling your hips, thighs pressing down on either side of your legs, and oh, mystery solved, there was nothing under the shirt but her.

And again, Mina, on the subject of your title over her: "Not even if I wanted you to?"

—

(It takes the length of a phone call for Mina to be officially yours.

Brutal in her efficiency, cutting the guy down and pushing him off the cliff of the inevitable.

You're just as cruel, laughing between her thighs as she slurs vague platitudes, barely encroaching on an apology, uncaring bullets flying across borders.

And then the 'I can't' when prompted for a chance to negotiate, an 'I'm busy' when the pleas come, and a final 'just fucking give up already' when the desperation gets too much and he's becoming less and less important the further your tongue gets into her cunt.

Poor bastard doesn't even know he's not the only one getting fucked.)

—

You feel like you’ve earned the right to be a tad more reckless.

So, dates.

Conventional, yes, but fuck you could do with some of that now. You had the money, the power, and now you had the girl. So, secret dates, grand gestures, the whole nine yards.

And yet, each one was its own little disaster.

An example: the restaurant.

Michelin stars, gourmet courses, over-the-top bullshit that you unashamedly love. Booking out the entire joint for the night, only for it to all go haywire when Mina showed up in that dress; tight, tiny, black.

"Eyes up here, darling," is what she said, before, "Or, you know, don't. I like the attention."

Just fucking you all the way up, having you pushing her into a backroom before the wine was even poured. Ruining said dress, rucking it up to her waist, making it some poor drycleaner’s problem.

“I was never big on grand gestures,” she assures you, as you pepper her neck with kisses, hands curving around to her breasts on sheer instinct.

"Wish you'd told me that in advance."

"And miss out on this?" Mina groans something fierce when your fingers find purchase. “Never.”

It's just Mina and you, doing what you've done a dozen times over by now, having long blown past any insecurities that this might just be too good, too perfect, that one of you might be the first to bolt for the door and run.

“I swear to god,” Mina’s managing, as you’re shoving her panties to the side, because you’re both well aware that this has to happen right here, right now. “This cock is going to be the death of me.”

You chuckle against her throat. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go though, right?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Says you.”

“Please, just—”

Your hips snap into her. She flinches. Screams your name so fucking loud.

Each and every one of the kitchen staff receives a very, very sizeable tip.

—

It becomes a problem.

Oddly enough, neither of you are at fault.

Leaked photos light up every website, tabloid, and social media platform in mere minutes—Mina and her ex, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the unmistakable blur of a bedroom in the background. Nothing too lurid, nothing too explicit—but just enough to get the world to gasp in collective shock.

The fucking coward did it. You never knew he had it in him.

Sure there's dating on the pictures. Years, probably, back to when their happiness couldn't be called into question, but it does its job.

The statements pointing this out do little to shift the public's attention though, they've already latched on to the chance to rip apart her spotless record. You’ve seen it before, a hundred times with a hundred different celebrities. The cycle of love turned to dust in the blink of a camera flash.

And yet despite all of this, despite the shitstorm that’s swirling around her, despite the radio silence you're expecting, not an hour passes before Mina's calling you again.

“I need you.”

“Then come over.”

—

Mina belongs here, it’s so obvious.

Walking through the rooms of your home like she’s always been there, like she’s what’s been missing.

None of the art on the walls, the books on the shelves, none of the sculptures worth more money than any person should ever see in their life—none of it make as much sense as she does here, in your space.

Ours, you’re already thinking.

While you’re staring at her, she’s taking it all in—every detail of your domain, eyes brushing over the aged furniture and modern finishes, each aspect of your home that you’ve curated as meticulously as you’ve cultivated your own reputation.

She doesn’t say a word about whatever conclusion she’s drawing—because she’s not the type to judge—she’s just curious. She’s always been curious.

And then she’s in your arms.

Hands looping around your neck as you hold her tight, like it’s been years instead of the mere days since you’ve seen her. Since you’ve felt her heat, heard her whimpers, felt her nails dig into your skin like she’s trying to slip in underneath.

“It was inevitable, right?” She whispers against your collarbone. “Something was bound to fuck this all up eventually. My life, yours. It was all too perfect.”

You hold her tight. Letting her sink into your embrace, disappear into your chest. She’s so small in your arms—not that she’s ever not been, but right now, it’s stark. Like she’s shrunk, folded herself into something more manageable, something easier to hide. Something that won’t be torn apart by the teeth of the media and the rabid fans.

Kiss the top of her head to make her relax a fraction, opening a pressure valve that releases a shaky exhale.

You point out, “It still is.”

Mina blinks up at you, and you pretend you don’t see the dampening in the corners of her eyes. “I need to do the whole apology tour now. Keep my head down, hide my face. That’s what they’re saying anyway. What they expect.”

You shrug. “Could hide out here.”

That makes Mina smile, laugh even, colouring her features with something far more impactful than any of the decor. “And, I'm guessing, fucking each other’s brains out from sunrise to sunset?"

"There'll be a couple of meals in between. You may be surprised to learn I make a mean bowl of ramen."

Mina laughs again, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world—like the chiming of a bell that’s only meant for you. She looks at you, really looks, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind, the genuine consideration she's giving your proposal.

“What do you say?”

“I—”

Before she can finish, you add, “I can handle our little problem. Just leave it to me.”

Mina blinks. There’s the curiosity again. “Handle?”

“Yeah,” you reply, vaguely amused. Something darker in the back of your throat. “I know some people. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Mina stares at you aghast, the smile slipping from her lips. Wondering if she might have missed something in the reality of the billionaire with a silver tongue and a penchant for ruining dresses.

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’m kidding, Mina. Jesus, the look on your face. I’m not going to have the guy killed.”

Mina rolls her eyes. Slaps your chest with a little more force than intended.

You add, with a Disney Villain-worthy ominous tone, “For now.”

“You ass,” she says, but she’s smiling again, the tension all but dissipated.

“Not even I’m capable of having that sort of thing arranged. Well, maybe I am, just never tried, so—” you begin, only to stop immediately at the curving of Mina’s lips. “I was just planning on doing a bit of spin. Tap some of our PR Wizards, maybe offer the wolves something juicier. Whitewash the whole thing—shut him down.”

And a cherry on top of your whole plan—

"Make him wish I'd kill him instead."

Mina’s expression shifts, taking pause to study your face, your words. It’s the pragmatism that gets her, you think—but it’s baked into who you are. You don’t get to a billion dollars by making friends.

As a point of clarification, she asks, "What are you going to offer the press? I mean, you’re not going to leak dirt on someone else, are you?"

You shrug, an easy smile playing on your lips, "I was thinking we could just go public with us. Offer our whole thing."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"My jokes usually make you laugh."

Mina takes her time to ponder this, to consider what you’re actually saying. To process the idea of turning all this—the sneaking around, the private moments, the stolen kisses—into something so exposed. Something translated and made palatable for public consumption, to be picked apart by the vultures skirting the edges of the media.

And there’s fear there too. That the thrill could wear off for her again, the exhilaration could evaporate, and the boredom would settle in.

Or it could be a whole brand-new opportunity. Replacing one thrill with another, the rush that comes with being seen together, the excitement of the chase being replaced with the passion of the capture.

She asks, slowly, carefully choosing each word, doing her best to avoid setting off a bomb that could send this whole thing into a downward spiral. "Is this what you want to do?"

You pull her closer, fit her body flush against yours, and bring your lips down onto hers. You let them linger, let her sigh, let her melt and keen and smile against your mouth.

"Darling," you murmur against her lips, "I've been ready to tell the whole world since the moment I sat down next to you."

—

Sometimes, the conventional ways are the best.

Stumbling through your house—kissing her hard in the hallway, losing her skirt in the kitchen, tearing off her shirt at the top of the staircase. Carrying her past the threshold of your bedroom and leaving her panties at the door; truly letting her into your world in every way, shape, and form.

Holding her close, one hand at her waist, the other looping around her chest. Kissing into her neck as you lay her down onto your mattress, getting up close and personal until it’s all Mina, all the sweetness and heat of her, the richness of her perfume that’s become her signature.

The red of her blush, her lips, the marks you’re leaving on her skin. The white of her throat, her collarbone, the bra that’s half on, half of.

Pinning her wrists over her head, keeping her still, watching her pupils dilate.

Fucking flawless. Every inch, every glorious detail. Underneath you, at your mercy, already staining your sheets with her need.

And then, a beg:

“Please.”

“Greedy.”

“It’s how you made me.”

Your other hand ventures lower, drifting down her stomach, holding against her abs, leaving your fingertips to ghost over her mound.

She shudders at your touch.

You let her know, “I wasn’t complaining.”

And your tongue is on hers, soft to start, relaxing into familiar patterns, swipes of reintroductions, until Mina’s arching her back, urging you on. But you’re greedy in your own way; wanting to take your time, wanting to extract all these sighs and moans straight from the source.

Only, Mina’s having none of it.

“You’re really going to torture me after the day I’ve had?”

You quirk an eyebrow, push your thumb down against her clit. Applying enough pressure to make her hips buck.

"Torture is a strong word, darling."

Mina's huffs as you hold her there, keeping her locked in place and at your mercy. Wriggling under your grasp, but not making any real effort to escape. After all, where would the fun be in that?

"Fine," she's relenting, eyes slipping shut, unable to hide the smile that’s making its way onto her face. "Call it what you want. Just—more."

"Then let's just call it a pleasant distraction."

Your lips are together once more, your kiss quickly turning from something sweet to something a lot more demanding. Throwing Mina a bone, pressing into her a declaration of intent that has her wild for you.

You take your fingers, slide it down, swiping through her folds. Dancing around her entrance, seeing how nice and slick she already is for you, feeding that gnat in the back of your head that urges you to just fill her whole. Right before pressing up into her cunt.

“Yes,” Mina whispers into your mouth, hips rising to meet your hand, helpless little shivers around your first, then second digit—pushing until you’re knuckle deep inside her heat, making her squirm and cry, “Just stretch this fucking pussy, please.”

“Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you say, like it's a surprise, like she's ever not, like she doesn't part her legs and beg for you to take the invitation to her cunt every single time.

And Mina’s reaffirming, “Of course I am, I’m always—” but she never gets to finish her sentence, because you’re sliding a third finger in, and she’s trying so hard to keep it all together despite how determined you are to pull it all apart.

You’re too attentive—watching her face, every micro expression. Watching for every twitch, every whine, every cry that gets stuck in her throat when she tries to swallow it down.

There’s beauty in all of it, every single time, you could never get enough of it. Been burned into you now—what it takes to make Mina come undone. The right ways to touch her, the spots that make her preen. Where to be gentle, when to be rough, how to keep her guessing.

It’s all here, now, distilled to its basest elements, and it doesn’t even take much. You’re too good at this, know her far too well to need anything other than the sound of her breath to dictate your pace.

Your thumb plays at her swollen clit, doing nothing but pressing down as your fingers saw in and out of her slippery cunt, making her clench around you like she always does. Faster and faster, until she’s crying for it, shivering and trembling underneath you, struggling against your hold on her wrists because she's dying for something to hold onto.

“You—you’re too much,” Mina pants, because that’s all she can do now as you push into her with purpose. So, so fucking wet, creaming around your fingers, pooling in the palm of your hand. “Too—too—too fucking—”

Losing control over her own limbs, cumming with a sharp cry, levitating off the bed as your hand works magic between her legs, needing a hard kiss to ease her back down to Earth.

The aftershocks still roll through her body, leaving her with these tiny, frantic whimpers. You keep her pinned, soothe her with your thumb at her clit, padding around in gentle circles, feeling her spasm and pulse around your fingers.

Your kiss ends on that high note, parting lips to give Mina a chance at a complete inhale. Her chest is heaving, nipples poking out of the top of her bra, skin already sticky with sweat. Eyes opening, hazed over with need and the beginnings of tears.

“I—I need more.”

Hands let go of her wrists, fingers slide out of her cunt, and you lean back to watch her try to compose herself. It’s a battle she’s not winning.

Mina’s blinking up at you, trying to catch her breath, trying to remember how to do anything other than be fucked into oblivion by you. You help her—leaning over, thumbs hooking under her bra straps. Pulling it down with a gentle tug that makes her arch into the motion, makes her chest spill out and your mouth water.

You take the chance to admire her. To drink her in, appreciate her the way she deserves to be appreciated—a masterpiece spread out on your bed, naked and needy.

There’s the intoxication, knowing you’re the one that did that to her, knowing that you’re the one that’s going to do it again. Over and over again.

“If I have to wait another second, I’m going to scream,” Mina says, the demand losing its edge in a whine.

You chuckle, press an open-mouthed kiss onto her breast, sucking a nipple between your teeth.

Sometimes, you just can’t resist.

“Let’s not pretend that isn’t exactly what I want.”

“Make it happen, then.”

Mina holds position as you pull back, keeping her hands over her head, keeping as still as a statue as you come to your knees over her. Eyes on you as your shirt, your belt, your pants go. Eyes on your cock as your briefs fall away, leaving it standing tall and thick and ready for her.

There’s power dynamics at play here—how Mina’s so vulnerable to you, how she’s laid herself out, unwilling to move until you tell her to. She understands it, implicitly. Knows she’s playing right into your hands, forced to wait while you let the anticipation build.

You hold your cock above her, stroke it carefully. Watch her eyes track it. See her gulp.

And she begs, again, “Please,” softer now, the unmistakable tremble in her voice. "I just—I need it so fucking bad."

Whether on purpose or by instinct, her legs splay, presenting her pussy, glistening with want. There’s the pulse in her clit, the need dripping over her folds—you feed the agony just a little more, hovering over the entrance, letting the tip of your cock graze over it. Teasing, taunting.

"Beg for it."

Mina opens her mouth, but she fails to summon the words. Just leaves her lips hanging open, leaving you an opening for your fingers to push in and try to help her find the right plea.

Her tongue flicks out, licks at your digits, the taste of her arousal still thick on them. The wetness of her tongue as she sucks, the suction of her lips as she envelopes each finger, one by one. Savouring her own flavour with deep, longing slurps, with grateful hums resonating around your fingers.

Leaking down the tip of your cock, cunt getting wetter and wetter the longer she’s denied. Making you throb against her, making your hips jerk and bump dangerously close to where she needs you to be.

But you still don’t enter her. You just wait until she’s done, until your fingers are clean and wet, and she’s left a trail of kisses up to your wrist.

It’s then that you drag your fingers out from her lips and demand of her once more:

“Beg.”

And this time, Mina’s able to say it clearly, confidently, right from her chest—

“I need you inside me. Need to feel you so deep inside me that I can’t tell where I end and you begin. I want to make you cum so hard you’ll never want to leave, want to leave your mark so deep inside me that even if you do, I’ll still feel you.”

Each word, a fucking gift.

And her reward—

A hard, quick plunge straight into her cunt. Inside her, instantly buried, immediately unbearable. Just too good.

Mina can’t do anything, just dig her nails into the sheets and try not to scream at the suddenness of it, at the way you complete her without any warning at all.

It all just ripples through her, a second orgasm already possessing her and forcing her into seizure. Can’t even hold it together—can’t keep the moans contained, can’t keep herself steady—can only just lock eyes with you and hope that you’re seeing it all, hope that you’re feeling it too.

Mina’s got no control around you anymore, none at all.

“Your cock,” she’s saying, repeating it over and over. Like it’s brand new to her, like it hasn’t ever left her wrecked a hundred times over.  “Your fucking cock.”

Words punctuated by the slaps of your hips, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding, of Mina welcoming every stroke of your cock inside her. So fucking tight, gloved around you like it was forged specifically for your cock; not for anything else but you, only you.

“So hard, my God.” Mina’s hands clasp behind your neck, needing a firm hold on something solid and real. “So fucking hard for me, so—so—fuck—”

Her lips are everywhere, a flurry of butterfly kisses across your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the edges of your jawline. Crazed, unbridled assault of affection. Disarming, incredibly hot. Mina doing her best to mark you up before she’s torn away again.

It’s far too early in the processions—habit would usually have her playing it cool, trying to keep up the façade of control, hold onto shreds of dignity, until she’s unravelling completely and begging you to fuck her harder, deeper.

But now, she’s just letting you have her.

No games, no pretences.

Just you, and her, and this wild, hopeless need to feel good, to be consumed by this.

“Yours,” Mina’s whispering, voice cracking around the edges, “All yours.”

And you know it. Have known it. Had it signed and sealed in ink since the very first time she told you. When you made her knees buckle and eyes water as you took her in every way possible. Since she called out for you, said your name into the quiet of the night like it was a secret she never wanted to keep.

Yet it’s hearing it now, the sum of all these moments stacked on top of each other; the haunts that you’d frequent, the private corners that you’d made yours, the endless phone calls and messages and photos that could fill entire warehouses with their filth.

Finally here—both of you, panting, sweating, sex thick in the air. The world outside forgotten.

Fucking Mina so hard, so deep, euphoria shooting straight through you each time your cock bottoms out inside her. The softness of her cunt, its heat, its creaminess, its fucking divinity. Leaking out all around you and squeezing you so good that it’s a miracle that you’re still coherent enough to speak.

But you do, with a gruff, “Already knew that, darling.”

Mina’s laughing, because that’s the type of high you’re giving her. Even with the way you’re stretching her open, even with her eyes barely open and her toes curling into the bed—she’s laughing because it’s the only thing she can do. Because it’s all so absurdly perfect that she can’t find the energy to do anything else.

“All this, all of you,” you’re leaning in, at the base of her throat, licking a stripe up to her earlobe. Drumming the words into her skin, until she shivers. “Every part of you. All mine.”

Simple words that hold so much sway over her, that could pull her apart or build her right back up. Words that make Mina clench around you, make her cunt grasp you so tightly as if she’s trying to make them real.

“Always,” she’s heaving, “Always yours.”

And there’s this look on her face, like she’s lost in a dream—eyes glassy and all fogged up, breath hot against your shoulder. Glowing under the dimmed lights, making the sweat pooling at the base of her throat shimmer.

Keeping your hand there, at her neck, like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away. Ruining her. Because really, it’s all for her. All of this is all for her pleasure, her satisfaction.

You’re just along for the ride, so fucking lucky to have her like this. So impossibly beautiful, just knowing she exists would drive you insane if you didn’t get to be with her. Didn’t get a chance at this pussy, so perfect, dripping so much, made so hot for you and only you. Your own personal slutty cunt.

It’s the way her legs wrap around your hips—the smoothness of her skin, the power in those thighs, holding you like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. Like she’s terrified you’ll leave her like this, frantic and wretched and so, so fucking wet.

The newest picture you’re painting, your magnum opus in her name—her tits bouncing with each thrust, nipples stiff and flicking in the air. The yielding of her back, bending just so she can accommodate that extra length of you inside her. And her stomach—fuck, those abs. Tightening and loosening, shaking with every hit of your hips, with every sharp gasp of air.

Demanding of you. Cum for me. Please. Now.

“I need this. Exactly this from now on,” Mina’s declaring, stuttering it like you’re fucking every syllable out of her tightness. “Just you fucking me. Whenever we’re together, every second we get alone—fuck—"

And you’re nodding because you’re always right there with her, always on the same wavelength, thinking the exact same fucking thing.

“Keep filing me up until I can’t take it anymore. Until I’m screaming so loud, I can’t even hear myself think—”

Breathless words that flood your ears, that Mina needs to get out, needs to make sure you hear. Absorbed straight into your bloodstream, pumping into your cock, fed right back into her cunt. So fucking tight. So downright incredible that you’re speeding up, driving in deep, as deep as you could possibly go.

“Until I’m so full of you that I forget my own name—forget any other name but yours—until I—until I—”

A nasty hit makes her body curve and rise, makes her pussy clamp around you, in warning of the orgasm to come, the one you’re both hurtling towards with a kind of reckless abandon that’s become second nature.

“Until I—please—just always make me feel this way—”

“You will,” you promise, meaning it, fucking it into her like your life depends on it. Like you need it to survive, because maybe you do. Maybe you’ve never truly lived until you’ve felt Mina’s cunt quiver around your cock like this, until you’ve heard her beg for you like you’re the only thing she needs to breathe. And again, for good measure, “you will."

And oh, that’s all it takes. That’s enough to have Mina spilling.

“Cumming,” is her proclamation. Repeated, ad infinitum, just, “Cumming, cumming, cumming.”

All over your cock, all around your cock. Cunt strangling you with the force of it.

And this is where you decide Mina’s most beautiful.

When she’s consumed by climax, when she’s held prisoner by it, when she’s just nothing but a canvas for you to leave your marks all over.

“Feel so good—so fucking good—”

It’s the best kind of challenge, pushing her through it.

Worshipping her in all the ways that count, treating Mina in ways woman like her should never be treated. Tearing an angel down from the heavens just to hammer her cunt into submission, and being thanked for it afterwards.

“God,” Mina’s trying, voice rasping and broken, “I—fuck—I can’t—”

You take her, hand wrapping around her tits, pinching, rolling, teasing nipples until they’re as tight as her cunt around you. Leaning in and capturing her lips, drinking down her whimpers with a kiss so deep you can taste your name on her tongue.

Fucking her, ruining that tight, little pussy, through every wave that crashes down over her, that burns her up from the inside and makes her so Goddamn hot.

Leaving her in disbelief that it could ever feel this good again, that there's a light at the end of this tunnel, that there's a life after being fucked so thoroughly by your cock.

Holding her through it, preventing her from crumbling into a million overstimulated pieces. Slowing down the pace of your hips with steady, deliberate thrusts until you’re just inside her. Cock throbbing, bathing in her heat, waiting.

Mina stirs, eyes flutter open, meeting yours. “Cum inside me. Wherever you’d like.”

There’s only one real choice. Mina knows this as well as you do.

Your cock leaves her cunt, slick with her juices, her cum. Proof of your dominion over her body, gleaming along your shaft.

Nothing but bliss on Mina’s face, so well-fucked and satisfied and just plain happy that it’s almost a surprise she hasn’t melted away into a puddle. She’s smiling, looking up at you through her lashes, sweet and soft and perfect.

Turning herself over, bowing down on her knees, pointing her ass up at you like it’s the universe itself handing you a present and saying, ‘Here, this is yours.’

You can’t resist that kind of temptation.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Mina tells you, rolling her hips higher still, flaring out her hips, treating you to the perfectly round globes of her ass. “Waiting for you to take me. However you want. Make it hurt so good. Make me remember how you feel.”

Her hands reach back, delicate fingers spreading plump cheeks apart. The tight, pink ring of her ass winking at you. A sight that never gets old, a vision that’s forever carved into the back of your eyeballs.

One last request. “Please.”

Your cock pushes in.

“Thank you.”

Right away, it’s too fucking much. Your cock breaching through her asshole, pushing in inch by inch. Slow and torturous, the kind of thing that makes you want to yell.

Then the first thrust—that first hit, like a narcotic, straight through your veins, every single time. Feeling it, sensations so intense, so sharp, that you forget to even breathe.

And Mina’s crying. Crying out, muffled by the pillow she’s biting into. Yet still, pushing back against you, urging you deeper, even though she’s coming apart, even though she’s shaking from the sheer effort of having you fill her.

“Darling,” you call to her, “you’re doing so good,” because she is. Good, good, so fucking good for letting you split her in two like this. For letting you ruin her in all the best ways.

The second thrust is easier, smoother. Body giving in to your demands, stretching around your cock like it always does, like it’s made to do. To bend and flex to your whims and desires.

With every push, every retreat, every agonisingly, achingly slow grind into her ass, you’re nearing that rapturous end.

“So fucking good for me, Mina. Your ass is so tight around me. Such a good girl.” You’re grunting now, trying to ease her into it, to build up to the point where you can pound her, push her like you really want to.

Mina’s nodding, eyes screwed shut, sunken in the way you’re stretching her out. It’s a familiar feeling, having her ass opening up for you. A dance you’ve performed so often it’s almost muscle memory—each step painstakingly learned; each move carefully choreographed.

You’re easing into her, slow, so fucking slow that it’s a wonder that either of you doesn’t implode with want. But Mina’s good, so good, letting out these tiny, shuddering breaths that you feel down to the marrow of your bones.

And then, as your is fully seated in her ass—

“Don’t hold back,” Mina says, quietly, barely audible, but the need is crystal clear. “All of it, please.”

Hand in her hair, hand at her waist. Gripping into her, guiding her and then fucking her, really, truly flooding her ass with your cock, disappearing into her tightness until your hips are slapping into hers.

So pretty, even like this, even when her moans are getting louder, borderline screams that are cut off by the cotton of the pillow, her knuckles turning white in the effort. Her back tenses, muscles rippling underneath your palms.

She dips a hand underneath her, between her legs. Fingers at her cunt, whirling around her clit, doing all she can to keep up with you.

“Feels fucking amazing. Your ass, Mina,” you’re trying to say, but it’s coming out all gravelly and thick. “So fucking tight for me.”

It’s the one through-line that’s kept steady over these months. Mina’s transcendental beauty, Mina’s razor-sharp intelligence, Mina’s pussy that’s always, perpetually yours. All these things; but it’s Mina’s ass—that perfect, juicy, heart-shaped, fucking flawless ass that keeps you up at night.

Every time you’re buried inside, it’s like coming home to something sacred. Tightness gripping you, ass swallowing your cock in waves, the kind of feeling that makes you believe in a higher power—because nothing so divine could possibly be man-made.

“Fuck, I just—” Mina’s breathing out, quick huffs because that’s all she can manage, “just love this so fucking much. Love how you feel in my fucking ass.”

Her hand’s working overtime now, circling her clit with a fervour that’s almost religious. Pussy starting to leak again, juices running down her thighs, mixing with the sweat, pooling at her knees. Fuck, the way she’s touching herself while taking you in, so willingly, so wantonly, so utterly destroyed for you—she’s going to cum again, you can feel it. And you’re not far behind.

“I think I’m going to—fuck, I only just—but I’m going to—again—you’re going to make me—again—” She’s squealing, half-mumbling, full-crying, and your heart nearly bursts out of your chest because it’s all for you.  

You’re not even managing anything other than desperate thrusts, just fucking her with everything you have—like you’re trying to claim her inside and out, trying to leave your fingerprints on every part of her so everyone will know she’s been yours all along.

“Please, please, please,” again and again, stuttering out, “Just—just—just—”

Just keep going, keep pushing into her until she’s shaking, until she’s pleading for you to stop, to let her breathe, because she’s about to fucking break.

Or, really:

Keep going and never, ever stop.

The hand in her hair tightens, pulling her back, making her arch. That perfect spine, the curve that’s painted by God himself. Kisses into her shoulder, into the crook of her neck, making her whimper.

“Keep fucking me. Like this—like this—God—I’m going to—again—”

Pulling her closer to you, so you can feel the tremors starting from her core, spreading out like wildfire. Pushing her hand away, taking over between her legs—rubbing, teasing, circling her cunt and pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Fucking her so deeply that you can feel the first quivers of her orgasm from the inside out, daring to take over her body again.

“Keep fucking—touching me, fill me up—just don’t—please, I need it—”

A final plea, her last rites, before she’s lost.

“Cumming—cumming again—please, oh, please—oh—”

Mina’s body goes lax, a ragdoll in your arms. But you keep fucking her through it. Through the quakes and shivers, through the cries—through the crying out. Pleading. Pleading for you to follow her into oblivion.

And fuck. If you’re not right there with her.

You’re close, chasing her, feeling her orgasm, feeling it coil around your cock and pump through her veins and into yours. Feel her—her body, her muscles, her cunt—tightening, tightening, tightening around you until it’s unbearable.

“Cum for me—with me—” she’s repeating, her newest mantra, “cum inside me. Give it to me—please, I need it—please—so badly—”

Begging, dying for it. Willing, wanting to do anything for it.

But she doesn’t need to—you can’t fucking hold on any longer.

“Mina—fuck—"

You slam into her, and finally burst.

Filling her ass with your cum, feeling it spurt into her, thick and hot. Pumping into her, over and over, getting wrung dry by her ass, cumming so hard it feels like your bones might shatter.

Cumming until your vision swims, until the architecture in your knees threaten to give out, until all you can do is hold onto her hips and keep her in place, keep her right there, impaled on your cock, until every single drop of cum has found a home inside her ass.

Until you’re so sensitive it’s almost painful. Until the orgasm has passed over the two of you and left you feeling like you might dissolve into nothing but pure sensation.

“Christ,” you manage to get out, the word tearing out of you like it’s being ripped from your chest. Holding Mina close—embracing her, seeing just how much she’s loving it. How thankful she is. Taking it all, soaking it all in, moans turning into whimpers that you’d swear are prayers of gratitude.

Body limp and strung out, fucked so hard she can’t even hold herself up anymore—Mina collapses into the bed, pulling you with her, your cock still buried deep inside her.

Like the first time, like every time, it’s a complete fucking disaster.

Tangled up in sheets, in each other. Sticky with sweat, stickier with cum. And Mina turns her head to look at you, just so pleased, and so gleefully satisfied.

You lean in and kiss her, slow and deep, resisting the urge to stir, to roll her onto her back and start this whole thing over again. Claim her once, twice, a dozen times more.

But you don’t. You just lay there, breathing into her neck, letting all of this, your orgasms, your bliss, your absolute contentment roll through you.

There’ll be time to keep going, to keep fucking her. Give her the same tour of your house that she gave you that first night.

Eat her out in the kitchen. Fuck her into the sofa. And yeah, introduce her to the balconies on the higher floors.

For now though, there’s Mina, lips parting with yours, looking at you with a smile that’s this original blend of lust and love and admiration. “You really know how to ruin a girl, you know that?”

You chuckle, picking a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just trying to scratch an itch.”

—

Everybody loves a love story.

And yours is packaged up so nicely, polished and made shiny and perfect for the public to see.

It's the type of story the media dies for—a tale of modern romance, woven through the glitz and glamour of celebrity life. The cold-blooded billionaire who had his heart stolen by one of the nation’s daughters, and then chased her across continents in order to get it back.

You and Mina, becoming the ultimate power couple—the kind that makes the paparazzi's cameras click in unison and tabloids sell by the millions.

Together at every high-profile event, her hand nestled in the crook of your arm, your thumb tracing lazy circles on her wrist—a secret promise of the bruises she’ll wear under her designer dresses. A whispered reminder of the things you’ll do to her when the lights go out and the world isn’t watching.

But nobody sees that. The public sees the smiles, the kisses, the sweet little glances that pass between you—and they eat it all up.

They'll never see the way she begs for your cock, the way you fuck her until she can't walk straight, the way she rides you until all you know is her name. They don’t know that it wasn’t love at first sight—it was lust, paroxysms of it, pure and raw and unbridled.

But here you are.

Mina, in your bathroom, smiling at you through the mirror. Dressed to the nines, looking like a fucking dream. Making it so obvious now that you wonder how you missed it at the start. The way she looked at you that first night, the way she looked. It was all there, laid out in big bold letters, all caps, telling you that this is what you’ve been searching for—what you needed all along.

That dress she’s wearing—some dazzling shade of green. Olive? Celadon?

“Emerald,” she smiles, catching you staring. “It’s emerald, darling.”

You grin back. “Then it should match.”

Mina’s eyes flick to the box in your hand, curiosity piqued.

“Got you something.”

You hand her the box—a simple, muted green velvet, lacking any markers or logos to give away the contents. Ergo, it’s really fucking expensive.

She takes it out of your hands. Opens it, and her breath catches.

“It’s—” Mina whispers, lifting a necklace from the box. A simple, stunning piece. A thin diamond band with a solitary jade teardrop hanging from the center.

"Yours."

Mina holds it up against the light, seeing how it dances through the stone like it’s alive. When her eyes come back to yours, she’s beaming—a smile so wide it makes you wish you had your phone ready to snap a photo.

“Help a girl out, would you?” she says, turning her back to you, sweeping her hair over her bare shoulder.

You step forward, kissing the skin there, feeling the softness of her neck, the pulse of her vein. Your hands come up to fasten the necklace around her, the coldness of the diamonds brushing against your knuckles.

“You know, there’s one thing I was wondering about,” you murmur, letting the jade rest atop her throat.

Mina giggles, tilts her head slightly to the side. The jewels sparkle. “Oh?”

“That first night. The gala. You came alone.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Mina repeats, amused. Happy to have her own little secret, the one thing you've yet to pry out of her between the sheets. She regards you through the reflection, a twinkle in her eye that says she’s been wondering what took you so long to ask.

“Yeah, I’ve never quite figured it out. I mean I know why you were alone. But why did you come at all? What were you doing there, just sitting all pretty and by yourself. It felt so wrong to me at the time.”

That makes Mina laugh, making you feel somewhat silly to even ask. She spins on her heels, facing you; the necklace sitting perfectly against her skin. She runs her fingers over the chain, ending at the pendant. Tapping it. Once. Twice.

And she doesn’t even need to ask you if it looks good on her or if it suits her because she knows. She can tell by the look on your face.

She wears it like a fucking collar.

“Why?” Mina says again, stretching the syllable out long and wide, until you’re staring at her lips, knowing you’re about to kiss her again, knowing that you may very well not make it out of the house tonight, likely not even make it out of the bathroom.

You’ll be ruining that dress, fucking her against the sink, pushing her up into the mirror, kissing into the top of her spine and repeating over and over again—mine, mine, mine.

“Because you invited me.”

[endead-art]

Self-Paced is so cool

[crispylilworm]

last i’m posting about this xoxo sorry about the watcher spam recently but i feel the need to put my 2 cents in since my opinion on this doesn’t align with the vocal majority on this site

gotta admit my first youtuber drama experience was a 0/10 not because of what the creators did but solely because of the insanity of the fandom. because…wow. i have never seen a group of people throw around demands and accusations of betrayal in such a dramatic way lol. maybe i’m in the minority here but i felt the majority of responses and criticism just were any lacking basis at all.

my first thoughts with the announcement were literally “oh good for them new streaming service, i won’t be going for it, but maybe after a few months i’ll consider paying for a 1-time sub to catch up on everything”. sure some disappointment i wouldn’t get regular updates but overall excited for the new content this pay structure would give them the flexibility to create.

maybe because i didn’t get into youtubers until the pandemic when watcher was already it’s own independent thing i don’t have that same (*cough cough* parasocial) level of connection, just really enjoy the videos they put out. maybe because i go through subscription-of-the-month stints of paying for a patreon or twitch or other creator channel and rotate what i watch, this didn’t feel outrageous to me. i hate the subscription world we live in so i go out of my way to never pay more than a strict budget limit per month because that’s my ability and that’s my mentality on this. i thought at best maybe i’d consider rotating this in when they put out more.

don’t like the idea of it? you don’t have to pay for it. can’t afford it? i understand the disappointment from this aspect but creators don’t actually owe you anything for free - even if it was free in the past. overall and for whatever reasoning you have: it wasn’t that deep.

if anything i am in a way thankful that they rescinded on their decision because that means me & others will continue to enjoy videos for free. but overall i’m disappointed that this means they’re sacrificing their own creative wants and financial needs of whatever they had planned. we won’t actually know the extent of what, if anything, this prevents them from creating because y’all wouldn’t even let them attempt to try this next phase out.

fans saying “well we don’t want high-budget content” well maybe they want to explore more than what they’re currently able to do? maybe they want to create more beyond their buzzfeed-format videos they know will rack in views from the nostalgia-obsessed side of the fans? i, too, personally love their humor and would just enjoy them chatting and being silly, but i do also think this holds them back. remember those hilarious self-made commercials from their most recent videos? that's probably just a glimpse of what new flavors of content they’re able to think up.

this whole fan response was just disappointing (and pretty scary ngl) to me, and i know saying that is like kicking a hornets nest but i really think if they continued with the plans from their original announcement it would have been ok. i actually think it would have been more than ok! but the response imploded so hard i’m sure we’ll never see them try something new again lol.

my personal thoughts are that if your opinion in any way revolved around something they “owe” to fans, feelings of “betrayal”, thinking they’re “sell outs” for wanting to transition to paid content - i think you really need to take a step back and reflect, and i mean that with zero malice. watcher is a business, not your friends, not “the boys”, not your guaranteed source of a specific type of content either. ultimately they made a business decision that they thought would help them grow that would have either succeeded or failed, that's it. for better or worse, we wont get to watch that play out.

i will continue my quiet enjoyment of their videos, and happily move on past what i frankly think was the most unnecessary internet drama i’ve seen in a minute lol. the takes overall were dumb but tame, i only blocked a handful of accounts for posting things i thought were totally out of line that i won't get into but i'm sure you've either seen or heard people discussing.

i didn't even get in to my hot takes lol like how this plays into the dangerous trend of the expectation of art to be free....and the overall devaluing of creatives and why AI is thriving in these areas...but ill defend that thesis another day lol. y'all aren't ready for that.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

1. Who has been the biggest supporter(s) of your writing? How have they supported you?

That I know outside of writing, my best friend. Even before I was sharing things, she encouraged me. Since I opened up to her about writing, we’ve actually bounced some ideas off each other, and she’s beta edited some of my work.

In the writing community, fiercefray. She’s been an absolute angel with everything and she deal with me when I have massive crises of confidence.

I’d also have to say my parents. They might not realise the impact they had on me, but they were the ones who instilled a love of reading in me, and they constantly put up with me when I get lost in writing times, as well as the frustration of writing raises its ugly head.

2. If you’ve written multiple pieces or worked on multiple projects, what are some common elements you find in several of them?

Curious characters who end up in bad situations because they couldn’t let something go. So many of my characters kind of accidentally fall into situations because they wouldn’t let things slide.

3. What are your go-to sources for writing advice/references/tips?

I don’t really actively seek out writing advice/references/tips, I just kind of write and hope for the best. But, I have found some pretty inspirational things around Tumblr.

4. What are your favorite tropes to read and write?

I’m awful with tropes in general, but probably friends becoming family, and good versus evil.

5. If you were going to be known for a single great book, in what genre would you most want it to be in?

Probably young adult fiction. It’s where I do most of my writing, so for one of them to be the single great book, that would be awesome.

6. Fans of what currently published books (or other works of fiction) would most enjoy your WIP?

I write a really eclectic mix of things, I think. But, if you liked The Maze Runner, I think you might like my Dystopian Story.  

7. Honesty hour: Have you given pretend interviews in your head about your wildly successful novels? What topics did you talk about most in your “interview”?

Nope, I’ve never pretended to have interviews about my wildly successful novels, but mostly because I think I’d hate to do interviews about things. Like, I can’t even talk about them when I get people to beta them.

I think if I did, though, I’d try to focus on the characters, because they’ve always been massive driving forces in the stories for me.

8. If your WIP were going to be adapted into another form of media (TV, film, audio drama, comic, videogame, stage play, etc.) which do you think would fit it best? Which would you most like to see happen?

I think I’d love to see my Dystopian Story as a TV show the most.

But, an honourable mention would be my Haunted Maze Story as a choice based video game. Letting people decide the fate of those characters could be an interesting take on it all.

9. How well do your tastes in reading align with your tastes in writing?

I read a pretty eclectic mix of books, and write a lot of different things too, so I guess my taste is pretty well aligned for both. That being said, I do read some books that I don’t think I’d ever delve into writing properly, for example non-fiction and romantic books.

10. Do you read or write fanfiction? If so, for what fandoms, and how do you think this has influenced your writing?

I do both, but this blog focuses on original stories.

I do, however, think that fanfiction influences writing because you already have a basic plotline to follow, and things that fans will recognise. I think fanfiction is such a useful tool to help writers understand their own characters – because you can focus more on them when the situations are already plotted out. Also, it helps with trying to bring things to life because you have something to base things on, instead of doing all the heavy lifting initially, if that makes sense.

11. Asking who your favorite OC is is like asking about someone’s favorite child. But come on, you know you have favorites. Who are they?

I think it’s pretty obvious that my favourite OC is Fox. She’s the one that started off everything in the biggest way. Yes, I have OCs that are older than her in their initial creation, but her book got finished properly first, and it’s the first one I ever really tried anything with.

[weareallstardustfallen]

hello empiresblr i have watched pix's video and i am, once again, back with analysis, because this is just my life now. today's thesis:

pixl and fwhip are narrative foils.

there's a lot of similarities between them, both as characters in the narrative and their role with that and just in general. pixl even pointed out some of them today: they've got similar philosophies when it comes to making use of the corruption, and they're both the kind of extra that it takes to put elder guardians under sausage's base. they play off of each other really well, and it's very fun to see, but i'm getting off topic bc a good dynamic does not a narrative foil make.

their role in the narrative is really mirrored, especially in their character development. towards the beginning of the story, fwhip was one of the main antagonists, alongside sausage; that's obvious from all of their interactions during basically everything preceding the peace ravine. pixl, on the other hand, was quite firmly on the protagonist's (jimmy's) side, and that was also abundantly clear. it was fairly unambiguous that fwhip was an antagonist who was doing bad things, and pixl was a character who was unconditionally on the protagonist's side.

and then the story got complicated, and their dynamic got interesting; specifically, when it came to the dragon fight.

fwhip was, for what's basically the first time (iirc) acting as a heroic figure. he messed up by sending jimmy into the end, sure, but as soon as he realized that he started thinking about what he could do to make sure that the dragon didn't die, and immediately gave back the cod head and apologized, sincerely, to jimmy. it may have been somewhat caused by his own fear of xornoth, but regardless of his motives, he did everything right. if we look at who the protagonists seem to be for this arc; it's less clear than before, but i would say scott and shubble, and of course the anti-xornoth side of things more generally; he was aligned with the protagonists.

pixl, on the other hand, was working against the protagonists. he was trying to kill the dragon, and though he wasn't villainous in the way that Sausage and Joey were in that interaction, he was definitely acting in the interests of the main big bad. unintentionally, perhaps, but he was told that he was doing something that was wrong and he chose to ignore that. it's sort of similar to how fwhip was acting as an antagonist, except for their intent; pixl didn't know the consequences of what he was doing, and he was just trying to get home, but regardless the similarities are there.

like fwhip, pix had a moment of realization that killing the dragon was wrong, but his came after the dragon was already dead. he didn't have the chance to immediately backtrack and mitigate the mistakes he'd made, because it was a bit of a pandora's box situation; you can't shut that once it's open.

(also, unrelated to the thesis- i think it's very interesting how fwhip, of all people, is the one he called out for during his vision. mr riffs explain)

his reaction is different to fwhip's, though, in what i find to be a very interesting way! both of them share the fact that they are so protective of their citizens, and care a lot about keeping them safe- it's obvious with just about everything pixl's done since the dragon fight and how every action seems to somehow lead back to the good of pixandria, and fwhip is often worrying over and checking in on his villagers, like after he returns from the dragon fight, and after the test subject dream (thank you birch for the reminder on that one!) and both of their reactions lead back to that same protectiveness. but where fwhip's reaction is action- building up the empire to keep them safe- pixl's is overwhelming guilt. he acts, with the ghast farm and solidifying his alliances and working towards taking down sausage, but the core emotion that is driving him right now is guilt.

another point- their major mistakes in the dragon fight come down to what they know really well, and how in that moment, their knowledge fails them.

pixl is really, really good at knowing how the world works. in every interaction, he always seems to be the one who knows the specifics of the mechanics they need, and the one who is teaching the person he's talking to- he's very confident in his knowledge of what makes the world tick, and exactly how to utilize that. of course, this could come down to pixl as a player having a lot of knowledge of the game's mechanics, but i'd also point towards things like the vigil- pix is a very experienced character, as well as minecraft player.

and in the dragon fight? he knows he needs to get home, and get his allies home. he knows that to avoid dying in the void, the dragon needs to be killed. he knows how to kill the dragon. his logic leads him to a very clear conclusion, and one he's absolutely certain of- but he doesn't quite account for all the factors. he doesn't realize that xornoth is another concern, and he pays for it.

fwhip, on the other hand, seems to really get people. this is actually most clear in his first act interactions with jimmy- he's fantastic at knowing exactly what buttons to push, how to needle at him until he gets the reaction he wants. it carries over to his interactions with others, too, which is what makes him such a good manipulator. he knows what makes people tick, and how, if he so chooses, to exploit that.

and his fatal flaw in the dragon battle, just like pix's, is the fact that this knowledge isn't quite enough, or he's too certain of himself without knowing the consequences. he knew exactly what to do to send jimmy into the end- he was dead certain, and right, that jimmy would walk into a trap if he thought he could get the cod head back as a result. the problem was, well... he didn't think that jimmy would be dedicated enough to kill the dragon once he was there. he knew jimmy would take the bait; he didn't know he'd follow it that far.

a final note, which i think is probably less intentional (although you never know, they're very clever writers) but is a pretty bit of poetry- the vigil and the deepslate redstone sort of mimic each other. they're both something with a power that hasn't been or can't be quite explained, but is incredibly central to their empire and their character, and they both consider themselves sort of protectors or shepherds of it, in a sense. there is also a nice visual mirror there- a dark stone and a light stone, each full of lights.

conclusion: this story is so much fun to analyze and also gunpowder boys my beloved

[bitchineering]

Lets go! Day 1: Let’s learn HOW the frick to study

So this I think is the most important thing to do and really it is insane that in the United States (which is where I am from by the way) students have no idea on how to freaking study. Honestly all of this gets me incredibly frustrated because with the internet we have the ability to share information and I’ll tell you that I am one of those people who have scavenged the internet and picked apart what I could find. Here’s another big problem: not everything someone does will work for you. 

Also just the spread of dumb study information is pretty terrible. If I do counter anything I will leave a paper or my citation just because I believe in putting down sources and showing others how to research and why citing is freakin important. 

Let’s get started: I’m going to summarize everything that will be in here for a second

1. Find your method of studying, find out everything. AND I MEAN EVERYTHING. You need to write down how you study (the different types of study people) but also the classes because people study sciences different than humanities. 

2. Find out your most productive state. If this means it is you at 2 am in a suit and jacket than that means you need to leave procrastination station and be studying during that time. Now I am not totally okay with people studying in a suit for one it is uncomfortable, I think a jeans and a clean tshirt is just as good. If you can be productive in sweatpants or pjs then go for it. I know I am not and it doesn’t work when I dress for relaxation.

Okay, I’ll be going into more in depth of mainly the first one but a bit of the second.

To start off the bat, if you have time watch this lecture https://youtu.be/IlU-zDU6aQ0 by Marty Lobdell. You have probably heard the saying before and one thing that makes me so frustrated within the study community is that others use this statment without giving any real examples. I feel like Lobdell does this as well as he doesn’t describe note taking and I do believe before putting down a material, you have to take notes. (All he mentions is handwriting notes and I do believe in that. You cannot really type notes and expect to learn the material). 

Another source I would suggest is the Vark Quiz (https://vark-learn.com/the-vark-questionnaire/) Learn what type you are (I’m a Kinesthetic!) and read what they give you. I’m not going to say you will perfectly match with your description but if you are starting from ground zero, this is an amazing place to see what might work for you instead of you having to come up with different technques on your own. 

I get so annoyed when people use the pomodoro method as a way to study. It is not a way to study. It is a way to schedule your study time. Also, I don’t think you can do much in 25 minutes or maybe it is just me. Usually I work for an hour or 50 minutes and then take a ten minute break. All you need to do is find out what works for you. 

Okay let’s get into classes, first there is an amazing youtuber named Nathan Wu who made this video (https://youtu.be/pdAt8JhBnMU and there is a part 2 but I’ll let you guys find it). He is a very good study youtuber that I do like to watch sometimes and I do appriciate that he is spreading correct information. I can give you guys an example of what worked for me in some of my classes (I also just wanna say I won’t be putting my grades on here nor anything really. I don’t feel comfortable being compared to others because I already have to deal with it at my own institution and peers. Please don’t compare yourself to others).

Chemistry (Wu also does include this subject in his video):

- Write notes and explanations for the love of god. Like please just write notes. 

- Also apply those notes. If you are confused in one area ask someone for help whether that be your teacher or someone else. 

-I would say to use flashcards, but I’m honestly a big quizlet user (I haven’t used Anki I’m a little weird and I get so annoyed when I use something that is popular. I sadly give off the “i’m not like other girls vibe”). When I use quizlet every time I get an answer wrong I write down the definition. I can explain this more because you can do this with notecards as well and probably Anki but I like the mobility of quizlet. 

-Labs... I do like doing some labs. I miss my older ones from Honors Chemistry, I barely do good labs in AP Chemistry, but at the same time you have to do them. This could be for any science class because knowing how to apply your information is the best way to test your knowledge that isn’t practice questions (If you need labs look up a virtual simulation. While it isn’t the same thing they are usually free and if not you can find some on youtube).

- Practice problems (this more or less goes with your grading point instead of studying. While I do believe the overall goal in studying is that you understand and can apply the topic tests are so different in many things). As stated before I have taken Honors Chemistry, so I used test prep from my teacher and was able to form questions similar to how she asked them on the quiz. In AP Chemistry I’ve been able to use the online resources from other teachers and AP Classroom. I will say AP Chemistry it is much harder to write my own questions because AP Chemistry is just really hard in general, but finding FRQ practices I believe is one of the best ways you can work on it (Honestly it may be just me but doing FRQs or written essays for answers is so much better than multiple choice because this allows you to practice giving explanations and learning where your gap of knowledge is).

Another study technique I like to do is called the Feynmann technique. This is such a great way to apply knowledge without doing test prep because you need to essentially master your subject before test prep. This method includes creating a study plan for someone else, you need to teach someone else (or something else) what you’re learning and have them ask questions. Know I know this doesn’t really work well for some people including myself because I don’t really have others to talk to when I study but talk to yourself. (sometimes I talk to a ghost or a plushie in my room. I have little trinkets on my desk of which a tiger egg and a Chick Fil A cow plushie wearing a sunflower dress. Just try it, it might seem weird but you got to). If you can’t have others ask you questions say everything you can remember (and maybe do this on a google doc with the voice chat box open, I would say record yourself but I hate hearing my own recordings). Then, once you have finished look through your notes and see what you got correct and what you got wrong. If you did use a google docs then write what you meant to say like: “I said this... but this was incorrect because of this...”

For study schedule or something related to studying I would say watch these videos: https://youtu.be/-m2Ua5Y0mzc and https://youtu.be/OYuhkaOPKcM. Both are by youtubers who I do like to watch and follow what they do. I would say to look through Alicia’s youtube a bit more if you like electronic organization AND the true studyblr (girl can do beautiful calligraphy). I believe I align more with Keo Tsang, who studies later at night rather than earlier than the morning. Tsang does get more hours of sleep than me (haha). If you are in high school please don’t do what he does though. I try to go to bed by midnight because then I’ll get six hours of sleep, and I can sleep on the bus (it takes me an hour to get to school). I also have a free first period where I can sleep if I need to or catch up on work from last night if I didn’t do it. I do like to work when there is sunlight but also coming home from school and taking a detox or a break is so much better for my mental health. I know it will be different when in university but I’d just say this to any high school student, please do a mental detox. Don’t go on social media and scroll endlessly maybe listen to some music, read a book, take a walk/run, my sister would bake after a long stressful day and her food- while not the best- got her in a good mood. 

I think this is all I’ll write today. I still need to do so much work myself haha but I am a big procrastinator and also I did have a break down a little while ago. Just know you are worth everything and in the end, every problem is going to have some type of solution even if there is no solution. Your life doesn’t need to be answered today or tomorrow so let’s work on becoming better students one step at a time :)

[talenlee]

Decemberween 2022: Rabbi Tovia Singer

New Post has been published on PRESS.exe: Decemberween 2022: Rabbi Tovia Singer

Oh yeah, Decemberween, when I recommend a bunch of free, online content that I find enjoyable so you can partake of it in this period of Everything Being Busy, what kind of fun cool interesting media are we talking about today? Well, extremely deep Tanakh scholarship from what amounts to the internet version of a conservative Jewish call-in show.

Look, when I recommend media, you know I’m not recommending media veganism. I don’t think that Rabbi Singer is in any way going to line up with me on almost any front. I tolerate a pretty high level of what I’d call ‘coot factor’ when it comes to religious scholarship. I imagine, I assume, that say, an Orthodox Jewish Rabbi who lives In Israel probably has some pretty cruddy views about oh, you know, maybe that country they’re living in called Palestine, and I’m not asking you to make exception to that.

Matthew corrupted Jewish Scriptures to craft a preposterous Christmas story - Rabbi Tovia Singer

Watch this video on YouTube

Still, I have been listening to a lot of this guy this year, because of a specific area of scholarship where he’s been working very hard since the 1980s. Singer is an aggressive and constant opponent to the idea of Messianic Judaism.

Messianic Judaism is the idea of Christians trying to convert Jews. This is typically done by claiming that Christianity is compatible with Judaism, or that Judaism has been Christianity all along. There’s also a lot of imagery nonsense, like trying to use The Wordless Book style storytelling over the Seder to show that hey, doesn’t this bread remind you of Jesus?

What I’ve known for a long time is that the gospels are inconsistent, and this should be a problem for people who claim that the gospels represent divine literal truth. What I didn’t know is how much the New Testament is inconsistent with the Old Testament, where phrases that I knew didn’t line up are demonstrated changes in the text, rather than what I, an English language speaker thought growing up, that they were just translated differently.

Immanuel's Mother was No Virgin! Matthew Corrupted Isaiah – Rabbi Tovia Singer

Watch this video on YouTube

Anyway, Rabbi Singer defends his position and his faith and his values, and provides a perspective on Christianity from the position of someone who knows it very well and who knows the faith it claims to own. I find these talks and these long form textual conversations about specific wording changes in the two components of the Christian Bible super interesting. What’s more, they’re just going to come at things on a different footing. Me, an atheist, pointing out how Christianity does feature ritual cannibalism and a human sacrifice, get eyerolls because of course I’d just ‘not get it’ because I’m not religious. But when someone who is religious brings those same ideas to task, that position looks very different.

It’s interesting to me, and Rabbi Singer seems to have an extraordinarily strong grasp of all the concepts. When he talks about Dispensationalism and Evangelical Christianity, his mastery of the topic aligns with what I know, and he justifies what he knows from texts that I can go look up (even if I have to trust others translating Hebrew). Some of it is still Preacher dialogue, and I’m familiar with that, but it’s still really damn interesting to me.

Happy Hanukkah.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Decemberween2022

[lynkhart]

MAJOR spoilers for the C2 finale of Critical Role so read at your own risk of you haven’t caught up!

I have so many feelings regarding Caleb and Essek’s intertwining character arcs I needed to explore, so strap in folks, you’re in for a bit of a ride! (But seriously though, this is like 4000 words long, I basically wrote an essay 😂)

At the start of the campaign, Caleb Widogast was dripping in guilt and self loathing and refused to believe he could ever absolve himself of his sins. Essek Thelyss was a cold, aloof individual who betrayed his people for selfish goals, and their differing yet mirrored narratives have been an absolute delight to watch unfold.

In the beginning Caleb truly hated himself. He shot down any attempt at a compliment, described himself as a ‘disgusting person’, outright rejected the idea that he was worthy of love, and never let the blame shift from him for what he’d done. When Beauregard and Veth/Nott pointed out that he was coerced and manipulated into killing his parents, he reacts in an incredibly visceral way, and I’ve seen several comments likening it to a victim of child abuse who was groomed into believing they were as responsible as their abuser, and I think that’s exactly how it was meant to be read. He doesn’t see himself as a victim, only a murderer, and punishes himself for it every day. We see this in the way he presents himself, dirty and unkempt because in his mind he doesn’t deserve to feel good about himself in any way. Other than Nott/Veth and Beau to a certain degree, he purposefully isolates himself from the rest of the group and it’s a long time until he feels relaxed enough in their company to drop his defences a little.

(Speaking from a purely meta point of view, Liam did an absolutely phenomenal job of showing this through body language and I’d love to see someone do a compilation video of it. He starts off very hunched and guarded, leaning his body away from the closest person to him and avoiding eye contact and physical touch; but by the end stands tall and sure of himself.)

Early on there were a few moments where he had the option to do some pretty dark shit, and I’m sure there’s a possible timeline where he gave into his desire for revenge and really lost his way, but I’m glad he stuck it out and worked through his trauma in the way he did. His PTSD and disassociation when casting with fire was tragic, but over time he was able to work through it thanks to the constant love and support of his friends who kept him from going off at the deep end.

Molly’s death was the catalyst for change in a lot of the party, and Caleb is no exception. On the verge of leaving the group prior to his death, the grief they shared, combined with their frantic attempt to rescue the other half of their party put things in perspective and gradually he learned how to be a person again, to care.

Altering time to save his family had been Caleb’s only goal in life, and so when Essek and by extension, dunamancy was introduced, you could see his eyes light up at the possibilities.

A huge turning point for him is aligned so closely with Essek’s redemption arc which feels quite apt I think. When Essek confesses to his crimes, Caleb delivers a beautifully iconic piece of dialogue where he acknowledges their similarities and how much he himself has changed as a person since meeting the Mighty Nein. (Source - CR wiki)

‘You listen to me. I know what you are talking about. I know. And the difference between you and I is thinner than a razor. I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes. And I was like you. Was. I know what a fool I have been for years. You didn't account for us. Good. That is life. Shit hits you sideways in life and no one is prepared. No one is ready. These people changed me. These people can change you. You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it. You have a rare opportunity here, Thelyss. One chance to save yourself, and we are offering it.’

This is not the same Caleb we met back in the Nestled Nook inn way back in the first episode. While not yet fulfilled or entirely convinced of his own worth, he knows he’s on the right path. That alone is progress enough, but that he uses his own experiences to help another escape those same chains of guilt says such a lot for his development. When he tells Essek that his ‘venom’ was learned, he’s also talking about himself and his own history of being manipulated and gaslit, with the implication being that it can be un-learned just as efficiently.

Caleb Widogast is selfish no more, or at the very least, doesn’t let his goals undermine anyone else’s anymore. Contrary to what he himself might still think, he is in no way a bad person. He loves fiercely and cannot abide seeing those he cares about in pain.

Early game Essek is what Caleb could have been if he’d rejected his friends and focused solely on his own selfish goal to undo his mistakes. Both are impassive at first and see the Mighty Nein as means to an end...until they get to know them and then their fate is sealed. The Power of Friendship wins once again!

At the beginning Caleb said he wanted to ‘bend reality to my will’ (sic) and in the end he does just that, though not in the way he originally intended. Destroying the T-Dock, and by extension the one thing he’d been building towards from the start, the chance to go back and change time, for me personally was the absolute peak of his journey. I rewatched the scene where Caleb revealed the truth about his parents death today, and it was really jarring to see just how far he’d come since then. It made me oddly proud actually.

I always felt like his plan to save his parents was the one thing holding him back from truly accepting their deaths, which is why the final scene of him in the cemetery with the letters for them hit so hard. He never truly gave up hope that they’d be reunited, but ultimately he realised he was merely postponing the inevitable and never allowing himself to live his own life. While time travel shenanigans would have been incredibly interesting to explore in game, choosing to let the past lie and not go back for them finally allows him to grieve and move on, and perhaps most importantly of all, to forgive himself at last.

I know some people were annoyed by Caleb’s decision in the finale to spend the rest of his life teaching rather than continuing to adventure, but I see it as the natural conclusion to his whole arc and his own personal victory.

He looked Trent Ikithon in the eyes, a man who he’d spent years wanting to kill and run from in equal measure, stripped him of his power and his voice (and ultimately his ability to harm anyone else) and finally spared his life so he had to live with the indignity of his defeat for the rest of his miserable existence. You couldn’t have asked for a more damning rejection of everything he’d been brainwashed into believing as a child. His dismissal of Trent’s position in the Assembly played into that as well. He never really wanted power for the sake of it; he had no desire for politics, he just wanted his family back, and while he didn’t get the one he started with, he made a new one for himself in the end.

As Caduceus once very wisely said:

‘Pain doesn’t make people; it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential; it's love that saves them.’

Caleb gets to break the cycle of abuse and teach a new generation of mages the way he should have been, with kindness and respect, and I’m pretty sure he’d have introduced a handsome drow as a guest lecturer from time to time. 😉

Speaking of...

Essek described himself as selfish and as a coward, forever putting his own wants and desires first, yet over the course of his journey with the Nein we see his priorities change drastically.

Having friends gives him people to care about, something he’s never had before, and it changes his outlook on life completely. For me, the first time we really see this is when he joins them for dinner in the Xorhaus and stops levitating. It’s a subtle thing, but meaningful. He explains that it had become an expectation of him, a quirk he’s known for, and so to feel comfortable enough around the Nein to drop that pretence is quite bold I think.

Much later, when he chooses to destroy the mini beacon they discover in Aeor in order to give everyone a long rest before the final confrontation with Lucian, he’s essentially giving up everything he betrayed his people for, just to keep his friends safe. The existence and context of that single artefact could have had an earthshattering impact on the Dynasty’s entire culture, forcing them to reevaluate their entire belief system and attitude to the Luxon, something he’d wanted from the start, something he helped start a war for, but he offered it up as a sacrifice without a second thought.

I’d say that’s a pretty big morality shift, and I’m super interested to see if Matt reveals if his alignment changed in the post campaign Q&A. I have a feeling he set him up as a potential BBEG but the party was like ‘no, you can’t have him, he’s ours now’ and that was the end of that. 😂

I think it says so much about the other characters too, that they befriended this person they barely knew, and when he was revealed to have done such terrible things, their first reaction was to give him comfort and an opportunity to atone. Jester held his hand while he confessed, and afterwards, while they didn’t immediately forgive him, they saw the good in him and wanted him to be better, which ultimately feels like what the entire campaign was about, leaving places (and people) better than they found them. It’s obvious that he’s never really had many friends before and has therefore never had the opportunity to be emotionally open with anyone, so seeing him gradually warm up to the Nein and allow himself to soften around them was really lovely to watch.

(Obviously, from a realistic moral perspective, he still fucked up big time. He’s still a godsdamned war criminal and really should have been put on trial for what he did, but I think from a narrative and personal point of view, his redemption arc was far more satisfying, so I’m glad it happened the way it did. (And not to derail but the rest of the gang have done some pretty horrific stuff as well, though perhaps not quite on the same scale)

He has a few moments towards the end that I absolutely love because they show that beneath the guilt and anguish, there’s an incredibly sweet and sensitive soul in there, just wanting acceptance. His dry jokes which often don’t quite hit, (the ‘I will punish the bakery’ line is such an under-appreciated one 😂) his simple joy at learning to garden in the Blooming Grove, and realising that he’d never been asked what his favourite food was before was actually kind of heartbreaking, because it highlighted how lonely his life must have been until that time. There was a moment pretty early on I think when he cast disguise on the party and Jester asked if he could cast it again to change the look of her outfit a bit and while he seemed to find it amusing, he refused, not wanting to waste a spell on such a frivolous request. Cut to their time in Aeor where he burns a fly spell just so he and Caleb can flirtatiously swoop around each other for a couple of minutes, all the while trying to beat Lucian to the city.

His breakdown when Molly’s resurrection failed really cemented to me how much he’d grown as a character. He never met Molly, his only knowledge of him was secondhand, through the eyes of his friends, but seeing it fail just broke him because he knew how much it hurt them to go through it all over again.

His comment to Caleb about not admitting defeat and wishing he could do more did get me wondering at the time if he was going to try and do something crazy, perhaps sacrificing himself via the Temporal Dock to make amends or somehow forcing another reroll, but I’m glad he didn’t. The conversation following that with Fjord was one of my favourites- he shows him acceptance and belief in his potential for the future, something he’s lacked for a long time, and when Caleb bluntly affirms afterwards that he is indeed an official member of the Mighty Nein, it’s the start of the rest of his life, and something he’s exceptionally grateful for.

It all leads to that final moment in Aeor with Caleb, when, presented with the opportunity to alter time and undo everything, he chooses to accept his decisions and carry the weight of his sins for the rest of his long life. That’s...huge.

He’s essentially choosing to live the rest of his existence as a fugitive, forever on the run, with no guaranteed peace or safety. He chooses to spend his life making up for his deeds, rather than looking for an easy way out.

I think that may have had a big impact on why Caleb ultimately made the same decision, as if Essek had been up for altering his timeline I think he’d have struggled to resist it himself. The conversation they had earlier in Aeor about their priorities and resisting temptation really comes to mind as well.

Now, to the relationship.

It was subtle, and not as ‘in your face’ obvious as the other characters, but I’ve been watching and hoping for a long time and I must say, it feels good to be vindicated.

(And if you have any doubt, both Matt and Liam confirmed on Twitter that their post finale relationship was 100% romantic)

I’d been hoping that Shadowgast would be a canon endgame relationship for a while, so the finale, and the aforementioned T-Dock scene in particular had me quite literally shaking with emotion as I watched live. Here you have two men, both damaged and guilt-stricken in their own ways, who find in each other a kindred spirit and a path to redemption.

They’re both very guarded and closed off people, but Essek in particular has a definite shift in the last arc of the campaign especially when it came to his interactions with Caleb. At the start he was quite aloof and stoic, though charming, and they had an instant connection through their shared love of the arcane, (anyone who couldn’t see them making heart eyes at each other when Essek was describing the different types of magic he could teach Caleb was clearly blind) but by the end he was incredibly open to showing his vulnerabilities and that takes a lot, especially for someone whose primary focus was to stay in control of every aspect of his life. The ‘Caleb, I’m scared’ moment during the Trent fight in particular made my heart ache.

No, we didn’t get a dramatic declaration of love or a cinematic mid-battle kiss, but I’d argue that their relationship was just as, if not more intimate than any of the other main characters were. They understood each other in a way the others didn’t, their shared guilt, feelings of inadequacy and their obsession with magic forged a deep connection from the get-go. Neither of them are big fans of PDA I think, though Caleb is tactile as hell (forehead touches and kisses, oh man, I’m so weak for those 😩👌) and some of their most iconic moments have them putting themselves in harm’s way to protect the other. Essek shaking off his forced guilt trip immediately after the now infamous forehead touch in ep140 was beautifully poetic, as was using his fortune’s favour to pull Caleb out of the rubble moments before. Caleb trying to include him in his Sphere of Invulnerability in the finale and Essek staying close to him the whole fight despite being obviously terrified of Trent was the icing on the cake. It’s clear that they care for each other a great deal; whether by the finale they’d consider it love is up for debate, but we know that’s eventually where it ended up and honestly, I love that. I deeply appreciated the fact Matt and Liam both emphasised that they took their time with their relationship, letting each other heal in their own way before they took the next step. All too often in media, and real life too sadly, a romantic relationship is seen as some kind of quick fix, and that a lover will somehow complete you or make all your problems vanish. They knew this wasn’t the case here, and that made it all the better.

While I would have *loved* to have seen them together as a couple right to the very end, the change in their relationship felt right, if bittersweet. I doubt they ever stopped loving each other, and if anything, choosing to shift to a deep and lifelong friendship over a romance that would cause them both so much pain is one of the kindest things you could do for someone you love. After all, friendship isn’t a downgrade, just another way of experiencing that same love, and it wasn’t as though they broke up and never saw each other again, it was pretty strongly implied that they remained a major feature in each other’s lives, they just changed their label slightly. Caleb would hate to have forced Essek to watch him wither away, and although his eventual passing would hurt Essek regardless, incompatible lifespans being what they are, having a period of time to adjust to it, to give them a buffer between the inevitable heartbreak was actually really sweet.

Their romance was no accident, they knew going in that it had a time limit, that it wasn’t going to be forever for one of them, and the fact they did it anyway says so much. They began their adventure wholeheartedly believing that they were both, in their own way incapable of love, only to later find it with each other. Whether their relationship lasted for a couple of years or multiple decades is irrelevant, what matters is that while it did they had a happy and fulfilled life together.

I know some folk wanted Caleb to use the transmogrification spell on himself so he could live on with Essek as another elf, or make him human instead, but that would have been way out of character for both I think. If they could have backwards engineered one of the rejuvenation stations in Aeor and used it to extend Caleb’s life by a hundred years or so, so he’d have a similar lifespan to Veth, now, I could have seen him possibly doing that, so he could spend more time with his best friend too, but nothing further I think. He longed to be reunited with his parents too much to postpone death unnaturally like that.

That both Caleb and Essek ultimately chose to live with their mistakes and make peace with themselves was incredibly cathartic, and I couldn’t imagine it playing out any better.

The fact Matt has explicitly stated Essek is Demi too means so much to me personally because the latter is a label I’ve been identifying with a lot recently, and it’s so rare for aspec relationships to get any representation! It has honestly given me a lot to think about over the last few days, and I really appreciate it.

To conclude, here’s a bit of shameless self promotion. I wrote this after watching the finale and honestly feel like it sums up my feelings on the nature of their relationship pretty well.

‘A casual hand on a shoulder, a waist, a wrist; a gentle kiss placed on a forehead is common between them now, an intimacy born of trust and mutual affection. Over time it grows, like a fire born of seasoned timber; gradual and steady, no spluttering kindling that flares and sparks, but a slow burn, one which lasts.

Their love is embroidered into every aspect of their lives together. Acts of service, of comfort, of understanding.

Sometimes a kiss leads to more than a kiss, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way they are content.‘

So yeah, I love these two wizard boys so very much and I couldn’t be happier with the conclusion of their stories. ❤️

[cayofdreams]

I Can See It in Your Eyes

Summary: You’re a full-fledged cold-blooded villain, but Dabi suspects otherwise. And he knows just the way to get you to prove your loyalty…and your faith.

Words: 3.7k

Rating: 🌊 Explicit, Smut

Warnings: cursing, virginity (not very explicit), deep-throating, choking, heavy breath-play (receiving), asphyxiation, God complex, dark ending

Notes: Was supposed to just be a smutty angsty drabble to release some anger from the day. Oh well. Enjoy my rage~

 You’d been a part of the League of Villains for the past 5 months now. It was a gradual process for your mind to go from being the ambitious, good-natured upcoming pro-hero, to a cold-hearted deviant that seemed to show no one an ounce of mercy.

And why should they deserve your mercy? It was their fault that you became who you were now.

You’d been kidnapped and kept as a ransom by the league, constantly tortured in hopes that the monetary demands would be filled. Their torture techniques becoming more sinister by the day.

But you put up with it, because you knew the light at the end of the tunnel was closer than it seemed.

Besides, it wasn’t even a lot of money. A measly $2.3 million dollars. Any rich pig could’ve came up with that to rescue such an admirable hero.

So you waited.

And waited.

Waiting for someone to answer the ransom to let you free, until one day Dabi came into the cell you were in, holding his phone. A dubious grin on his face, possibly signaling they had got the ransom they hoped for.

“Good news, little kitty. Would you like to hear it?”

Your eyes looked up expectantly at his bright blue ones. If this was the news you’d been waiting for, you’d probably call them the most angelic eyes you’d ever seen despite his more devilish appearance.

Dabi chuckled at your childish expression and without saying another word bent down to your eye-level and played the news clip on his phone. You excitedly looked at the news clip, finally, FINALLY you would be sav-

“BREAKING NEWS: RANSOM WILL NOT BE PAID FOR THE RELEASE OF H/N, PERSONALLY KNOWN AS L/N F/N”

“…wha…?”

Dabi’s chuckle turned into a sinister cackle as he watched your hopeful eyes change almost on cue, into a pair of almond-shaped pool of despair and confusion.

“Aren’t you happy? You get to stay with us forever, now.”

“No…no. That can’t be right…” You looked at Dabi as you still tried to latch onto hope that he had digitally manipulated the clip. “Go to another news channel! Do it! Please!”

Amused by your agony, he let you watch his fingers tap around on the screen, showing you all the different news sites saying a different variation of the same thing. He clicked on another video clip.

It was your old classmate Midoriya standing at a podium in front was what seemed like hundreds of reporters. All shouting questions at him. Finally, he picked one reporter to answer to.

“Deku! What do you say to the people who are outraged at the rejection of submitting to the League of Villains’ ransom? Don’t you think H/N’s life is important?”

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the audience with determination.

“It was a hard decision. But we have an integrity to keep as heroes. We will not give into measly demands by the same villains who’d burn us down at any chance! We are heroes! And we’ll keep looking and fighting for the return of H/N the best way we know! With dignity! It’s what she would want!”

Your eyes dazed over in apathy as you watched the No. 1 hero ultimately send you to your death.

Dignity? Integrity? Ha. What bullshit. Bullshit that probably took on the appearance of beautiful flower, but still smelled of shit all the same. How dare he pretend like letting you stay in this hell-hole was the honorable thing to do.

Dabi took the phone away from your eyesight, smiling maniacally at your dying resolve.

“I told you many times over these past couple weeks, kitten, that your heroism is nothing but a façade.”

You stayed silent as every emotion you developed as a normal human being in a society, became figments of destroyed past.

“Will you kill me?” Your eyes continued to look forlornly at the cold cement floor, ignoring the rats that would run over top your feet.

“Oh no, kitten. That would be a waste of an asset.” He brushed his fingers over your now sickly-looking skin, grasping your jaw so he could admire your new callous face expression. “You’ll be joining us for real now. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

You didn’t reply as he let go of your face to let it hang dejectedly from your shoulders.

“I’ll just let you sit here and think about it. I’m sure you’ll come around.”

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

As you sat on the torn, dusty couch you scrolled through your phone looking at what people were talking about on forums and the like about the League of Villains. It seemed as time grew on, more and more people were joining the league’s movement…your movement.

Good.

It was about time people got a wake up call on what was really going on in their so-called “hero” society. And they didn’t even have to get tortured to see it. How could you have been so oblivious all this time? You always thought the League of Villains and their supporters were a cult. A demented cult.

But you felt more accomplished here than you ever did “above ground”. After-all you were the hottest topic that people talked when it came to villains. There were always two distinct opinions when it came to your ultimate aligning with the league.

Those who said you were still in need of rescue, plagued with Stockholm syndrome.

And those who said that if someone like you could side with such a group, the League of Villains must not have been as evil as heroes portrayed.

You’d probably care about the public’s opinion of you if you had the emotions to engage in such a controversy. It seemed all feelings of love, hatred, sadness, happiness, and every other useless emotion left you the day that you saw Midoriya in that news clip.

That was for the better. You could focus now, on the important things.

As you read various articles on your screen, you heard a creaking on the floorboards. When you looked over you saw your ally Dabi standing by the hallway.

“You’re up early, Dabi.”

“I could say the same to you, kitten.” He came over and sat by you on the couch. You’d grown used to his ghastly appearance, now admiring his scars from an aesthetic point of view.

You used to wonder what he thought of his scars. How he got them. But those feelings of curiosity would dissipate as the cold-bloodedness in you took over more and more.

“Anything new?”

“Other than our growing number of supporters, not much. Before long, heroes will be a thing of the past.”

He snickered at you. “You say that like you mean it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi moved closer to you, his cerulean meeting your e/c once again. “You think I don’t see it?”

You stayed quiet, wondering what he could possibly be accusing you of.

“I know you still check the news in hopes that your hero, Deku has discovered new leads on your location.”

You laughed at his absurdity. “You’re delusional, Dabi.” Your eyes went back to looking at your phone. “Perhaps you should go back to bed, you’re obviously still tired from your atrocities of the night before.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think those atrocities are affecting my eyesight.”

When you looked back up at him, he had pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. A photograph to be exact. “What’s that?”

“You tell me, kitten.” He upheld the photo to your face and your eyes widened at the picture depicted.

It was an old photo of you and Midoriya after getting ice cream together. He had looked so cute with melted cream all over his cheeks so you snapped a photo of the both of you. It was a photo you kept in your costume all the time. Your old costume, that is.

“That proves nothing but the fact you ravaged my costume during my capture.”

“You’d have a point if I didn’t just find it under your mattress.” He crinkled the paper up in his hands. “You still think about your little crush?”

You squinted your eyes at him. How could he think that? You despised Midoriya and everything he ever stood for. If there was even a twinkling of emotion left in you, it would surely be hatred. “You’re pissing me off, now.”

“Oh so you do feel things? Then you won’t mind if I…” A flash of blue flame appeared on his hand, burning the crinkled paper in a matter of seconds. Unconsciously your eyebrows had lowered in a saddened expression.

“See there? I can see it in your eyes, kitten.”

Your face became deadpan again as you stood up from the couch. “If you’re going to continue with these erroneous allegations, I’ll be going for a walk.”

Before you could turn away, he grabbed you by the shoulder making you look back at him confusingly. His hand slowly moved up to your neck, fingers gripping tightly around your throat. The heat of his quirk slightly stinging your tender flesh, but you didn’t move.

“I’ll kill you, you know? Turn you into a little charred kitten.” He turned up the heat and you twinged at the increasing sting. “No one would be able to tell how pretty your face was. I’d make sure of it.”

You thought carefully on your next words. You trusted and gained the trust of everyone in the league, but that didn’t mean they weren’t deranged sociopaths. Your bond with them, while apparent, was still the weakest due to them knowing each other longer, and your lack of emotions making it difficult to form deeper relationships.

“What do you want, Dabi?” As you looked impassively into cerulean eyes, you felt his thumb move smoothly over your bottom lip before sticking it in between your lip and teeth, rubbing along your gums. A laugh escaped as you realized his intentions with you. “So this is what its about? Ridiculous.”

“I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous with confirming the loyalty of the maniacs I have to be around.” He took his other hand and slipped it under your skirt to grip the side of your panties before heating them to ash. “I want what I’ve been asking of you for a long time, kitten.”

He pressed his warm fingers around your vulva and slowly circled your folds. The heat adding an indescribable pleasure. A small moan escaped from your lips. “...If I do this with you, you’ll never mention my shitty past again.”

“Deal”

Immediately you pushed him off you before gripping him tightly by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down on the couch. You crouched down on the couch with him with your head by his crotch, roughly palming him over his pants. “I don’t plan on dragging this out, I have actual duties to attend to.”

“Then you better work hard, kitten” His freakishly villainous grin teased you, knowing this was your first time being intimate with someone before. He probably thought you were going to be some shy scared girl who didn’t know the first thing about sex. But you’d prove him wrong.

You took the zipper of his pants and briskly pulled it down. Pulling his pants and boxers down, you were presented with a perfectly intact, flaccid cock. He chuckled at your hesitation.

“I told you you’d have to work hard.”

Ignoring his comment, you took his cock in his hands before shoving it in your mouth. It was softer than your tongue, and a bit cool compared to the feelings of Dabi’s hands on you earlier. Perhaps he wanted to feel 100% of the warmth from your mouth.

As you began sucking, you felt your mouth feel fuller and fuller. A part of you feeling a bit accomplished at arousing your sinister ally, another apart a bit worried at how you were going to take any more of his cock in your mouth. You started to use your hands to stroke the part of his shaft that you couldn’t handle. Dabi glided his fingers through your hair before gripping your locks.

“You need some help with that, kitten?” His calm suggestion not matching the force of his hands on your head, forcing you to suddenly take all of his cock down your throat. You gagged and spat up whatever saliva you could to keep from choking. Your gargling noises arousing Dabi even more, making your throat feel even more constricted.

“Now, don’t worry. I’ll do the work since its your first time.” Still having your cock in your throat, he sat up so that one of his knees was between your thighs, digging into the couch, while his other leg stood on the floor for stabilization. The strong grip on your hair maneuvered you to sit on your ass as he slowly worked his cock in and out of your throat. “But next time, I’ll expect you to service me on your own.”

Before you could protest his suggestion of a second time, he thrusted his hips vigorously towards your face. You reached your hands up to grip the hem of his shirt trying to stabilize yourself, but it was impossible with how ruthless he was going. You started struggling to breathe and tried pulling on his shirt to get him to stop. But it was to no avail.

“Just breathe through your nose…and stick your tongue out..oh fuck yeah- that feels so good, kitten.” Dabi shoved your face into his hips so that your nose was firmly pressed against his pelvis and paused. “Look up at me.”

He could cum instantly from the look you were giving him right now. It wasn’t apathy. Nor seduction. It was the look you gave him when you were pleading for him to find a different news source. When you were still caged up and begging for the news to be a lie. He found amusement in your change to apathy, but deep inside he wanted to see those eyes again. Those eyes that looked at him like a God. Those e/c eyes that portrayed-

Desperation.

That’s right. He craved seeing the desperation in your eyes once more. And right now, he was bathing in it. You looked so fucking adorable like that. The cold, murderous Y/N choking on his cock, begging for air. He contemplated leaving you like this. Letting you suffocate on his cock. It’s the death a true slut like you deserved. But he wouldn’t be able to pet his little kitten anymore so he decided to let up.

With your hair imprisoned between his fingers, he jerked you away from his hips. You inhaled a strong amount of air, so much so you coughed at the copious amount of saliva that went down your wind pipe. But he shouldn’t let you get too comfortable, he needed his God complex to be fulfilled once more.

So before you could even get 3 full breaths in, Dabi quickly shoved his cock down your esophagus once more. Your desperation to breathe made the walls of your throat convulse rapidly around his cock. He moved your head vigorously back and forth down his length.

“Oh fuck, kitten...you look- you look so fucking good chocking on my cock like that...”

You whined at his voice, not exactly knowing what he said because you were too concerned with not dying the most embarrassing death.

The vibrations of your whine rumbled beautifully around his shaft.“You d-don’t actually wanna stop, do you? Y-you want to die on my cock don’t you, kitten.” He moved his hips at an insane amount of speed, now chasing his orgasm. “I’ll grant that to you…just hold on. Y-You can choke on all this fucking cum, Y/N!”

Before long you felt hot spurts of thick liquid running down your throat. You coughed viciously around his cock, trying not to choke on his seed. Your coughing making his cock twitch even more as he released his seed down your pulsating windpipe. You grabbed desperately at his shirt, trying to get him to spare you.

Once he was properly drained, he jerked your head off him with enough force for you to fall back on the couch. You violently tried to cough up whatever of his thick cum that you could. You’d probably feel lumps of it in your throat for days.

“*cough!* *cough!* D-dabi! You f-fucking *cough!* psychopath!” You looked angrily at him as your hands pressed tightly to your chest as you kept choking and gasping for air.

“I’m sorry, kitten. You just looked so cute with your throat gagging around my cock like that.” Dabi slopped back down on the couch. Now in better view of your body, he couldn’t help noticing your glistening pussy, shining with arousal.  He cackled at your shameless masochism. “Apparently you agreed.”

“What- Hey, wait!” Dabi grabbed a hold of your thighs and pulled you so that your pussy was aligned with his cock. “Again?!”

“If there’s one thing that I can appreciate with my bloodline, kitten, it’s our insatiable urge to spill our fertile seed into available holes.” He rubbed his tip along your folds, gathering your wetness, before slapping it on your clit. The feeling making your pussy twitch on the head of his cock. You shut your eyes, not believing how much you craved for him to be inside you.

Dabi took your jaw into a tight grip and your face clenched at the pressure. “Open your eyes, Y/N”.

Slowly opening them, you peered into a gleaming light of blue. You never really took notice of his eyes before, but for some reason they were reminding you of your past. The nostalgia quickly vanished as quickly as they came as your desires overflooded your mind.

Why was he looking at you like this? Wasn’t he going to stick it in? You hated to admit that you started to get-

“That’s it, kitten…that’s the look I want.” He took other hand to slowly press the tip of his cock inside you. “You’re desperate for it aren’t you?”

You grabbed at his pants, pulling so that you could get him fill you up entirely . “Yeah..I am”.

Grinning at your lewd acceptance, he inserted the entirety of his cock inside you. The tightness of this being your pussy’s first cock made him feel even more in power. He was the only one that could make you so desperate. The only one that could give you what you needed. And he’d prove that to you right now.

Your moans at the feeling of Dabi inside you were cut short when he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Let’s keep playing, kitten.”

Your face went from being pleasured to startled as he tightened the grip at your throat. At the same time, he began to plunge deeply in and out your rigid walls. The heat from his hands stung at your throat and you became intoxicated with the mix of sensations. You didn’t know which feeling overpowered which between pleasure and pain, so you just focused on the azure of Dabi’s eyes and let your body do the thinking.

“I s-should’ve fucking claimed you- a long time ago, Y/N.”  Dabi took his free hand down to your clit and made slow but heated circles around the bud. “I’m the only one who can get you so desperate-“. Your walls twitched as you tried to gasp for oxygen. Failing, as Dabi only continued to suffocate you beneath his heated palms. “And I’m the only one who can satisfy that desperation.” Your pussy hysterically quivered around Dabi as your lack of oxygen prevailed and your orgasm approached.

“I can feel you about to cum, Y/N.” His thrusts becoming frantic as he neared his second high. “Say my fucking name…call me your God.”

He needed to hear you say it. After-all he was the one who was clearly in control of your life and death. He was the one who captured you and gave you the bare minimum amount of food to keep you live. He was the one who convinced Shigaraki to not turn you into a grave of ashes when your precious heroes left you to die. And he was the one right now keeping you on the verge of the plane between this world and the spirit one.

He was your God.

Dabi slightly loosened the grip on your throat.

“G-god…D..abi-..sa-ma…”

He tightened around your throat again, satisfied at your new-found faith. You felt yourself practically about to drift out of consciousness, the once again suspension of your air supply having you see faint stars around Dabi’s head.

The tight pressure in your stomach became unbearable and your body was overwhelmed at the two opposing forces that claimed you. The life of an orgasm, and the death of asphyxiation. You supposed the orgasm would come first as you squirmed and contorted like a fish underneath Dabi’s hands. If this was how you’re gonna die, at least it was while chasing the most intense pleasure life had to offer to humans.  

Your seemingly lifeless face paired with the lively palpitations of your pussy was sending Dabi over the edge. “Y/N…Shit! Y-your face says you’re dead…but y-your pussy is still fucking fighting…Fuck!” As he finally came for the second time, he released his milky fluids inside you. If you were conscious, you’d probably note how the cum spurting in your womb wasn’t as thick as the lumps that still nestled along the walls of your esophagus.

Finally releasing his hold on you, Dabi slumped on top of your motionless body.

“…Still breathing huh, kitten..”

Letting himself fall into a slumber, a whirlwind of thoughts encapsulated his mind.

He thought about how the allowing of your freedom to officially join the League of Villains might’ve been a mistake. You being free didn’t suit you.

No.

You’d go back in the cell. Where you’d pray to him to let you out…or to simply give you water.

Every time you’d be allowed the blessing of seeing his face, you’d be desperate for him to not leave.

To stay with you.

But he’d walk out your cell again for who knows how long…just to hear your desperate wails and begging as he locked the cell door again.

[earthstellar]

workin’ on some Transformers ASMR, hellll yeahhhh

ok so not gonna lie I’ve been quieter than usual for a while on here because of a bunch of medical and immigration stuff 

but I’ve also been working on some Transformers ASMR 

mostly TFP/Aligned Continuity and IDW 1 (MTMTE/LL) but if y’all would want anything for Cyberverse etc. let me know 

and without spoiling the shit I’ve been planning, just saying I’ve been working at it for a couple months now and I’ve got some scripts that I’m reasonably happy with + I figured out how to use my Phonak mic for my hearing devices to record some pretty solid quality audio LMAO 

but because I’m not the most experienced with this kind of stuff, I’d like to ask for some help sourcing materials and audio sample libraries! :) 

if anyone knows any good free background/ambient music or sound sample websites which are OK for public use, and/or if anyone has any good Audacity tutorials for cleaning up spoken word audio (no worries I’m using the old version of Audacity and not the new weird version with the suspicious altered terms and conditions), please do feel free to send me a message or reply/comment here and let me know! 

I’ve managed to source some good sci-fi sound effects etc. already, lmao, but I’m really trying to make something enjoyable for y’all to listen to, so the more resources available, the better I can tinker with stuff and see what might work best or better than what I’ve figured out on my own so far. :) 

(I’m finally putting those years of doing acting/performing arts + radio and voicing projects for various stuff to some kind of use, but I’m no expert by any means with the technical stuff LMAO so any and all tips are welcome!!!) 

there won’t be visuals with the current handful of ASMR recordings I’m working on at the moment, just so I can get my footing with the audio process and figure out how to actually put it all together into an OK audio track before I start thinking about videos/visual content to accompany this stuff 

I was hoping to have at least a couple tracks out before the New Year, which I’m still aiming for but we’ll see how it goes-- I’m having a lot of fun so far with the idea of Transformers ASMR, but since I’m super busy doing clinical support work during the week (and thus having to do everything else on the weekends lol), I can’t guarantee at the moment that I’ll manage that 

but how about this for now:

to help test my audio and get used to doing some more of the editing/technical stuff, if anyone wants a quick ASMR Transformers MP3, just let me know a general prompt of what you’d like to hear (give me a Transformers themed ASMR concept sort of like a fanfic request if that makes sense, lmao), and I’ll make a few short recordings to experiment with for you, in exchange for some feedback! :) 

my partner wanted me to record a “Pharma but pre-war Pharma so it’s not terrifying, giving me a check up or something” MP3, so that one is already in the works lmao hell yeah 

for what it’s worth: my natural speaking voice is fairly low, and I have spent an equal number of years living in the USA and UK, so I can do a fairly broad range of various English language accents reasonably well. (I am only confident in this because other people have told me this + I won an award for doing a foreign accent monologue challenge when I was in performing arts school LOL)

my voice acting credentials are doing small town local radio in the USA for a little while, and voicing a few characters in student animation projects that were fairly small projects but a few were screened on Brick Lane in London so take that for whatever it’s worth, I feel like I probably do okay with voices but will likely get better with more regular practice tbh 

also I realise the irony of me being hearing disabled yet trying to do an audio project, don’t roast me LOL I’m out here doing my best :’) 

I realise ASMR is still a sort of weird niche thing in general, so I’m not sure how popular an idea this will be, but I hope it’s an interesting idea to anyone else out there who might be into it. :)

[sapphire374]

Soy Sol: Chapter 10 (Hopeful Curiosity)

Wattpad Link

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17

The gang is huddled around each other at the Jam and Roller rink. Ámbar proceeds to glance over her clipboard that carries the original sign-up sheet. “So, Ámbar, do we have enough members to make up a team for the competition.” Ámbar quickly looks Luna in the eyes and decides to call out the list of names. “The official Jam and Roller team members are Luna, Simon, Matteo, Gaston, Ramiro, Jim, Delfi, Pedro and Jazmin.” Everyone starts counting with their fingers but before anyone gets the chance to start counting, Gaston and Nina both yell out “that’s nine members, we’re missing one.” Luna rollers towards Ámbar. “Ámbar you’re not on the list. Are you going to join us? Please, pretty please join us. Whether you would like to admit it or not, you’re one of the best roller skaters out there and we need you.”

Ámbar takes a big gulp of air, processing everything that’s going on. Luna’s pout with her watery eyes has made Ámbar reconsider her decision. Before she always wanted the worst for Luna, but the past few years has made them become inseparable. She now views Luna as her younger sister plus being the manager of the gang’s favorite place has made her feel as everyone’s bigger sister, being the mature one. Ambar gives in. “Fine, I’ll do it. Especially since you guys need me so much. You guys aren’t wrong though, I am the best,” Ámbar jokes. The whole gang cheers, everyone jumps up and down and excitement enters the room.

Everyone is huddled as they all set their hands out and chant, “ready! One, two, three Jam and Roller!” Juliana enters through the chaos of excitement. “Opa opa! Seems like the group has never separated and feels closer than ever.” The gang all turn around facing her, their faces show signs of shock. No one was expecting this except one certain person in the room. “Juliana! You’re back! Wait how did you know we got the team back together for a competition?” Simón asks. “A little birdy called me and said that a certain team needed my help so I came as quick as I can.” The whole gang starts whispering, wondering who was it that reached out to her. Luna gives Ámbar and Simón a little smirk.

“So have you guys chosen which song you all are going to skate to?” Juliana questions. “Nope,” Ámbar answers. That’s when the idea hits Simón. “I have an idea! Maybe not only the team gets back together for this competition, but also the band? What do you guys say, Nico, Pedro?” Simón suggests. Nico and Pedro look at each other in disbelief and with a loss of words. “Uhh yes of course! You have no idea how long I’ve missed playing on the drums,” Pedro states. “And you guys have no idea how long I’ve missed collaborating the three of us together again,” Nico chimes in. “I guess that settles it. The band is back!!” Simón announces. The room is filled with so many emotions as everyone is so excited about what’s to come next. True nostalgia and memories really do start coming back to them since working together and competing to save their beloved place truly brings them back to old times. Just like how Matteo and Luna wouldn’t stop stealing glances at each other through the midst of it all.

This competition will be fierce including what’s called two stages. The first stage is the basic entry in which they record a video of their performance, the second stage is where they have the official competition. They first though have to make it through the first stage. For the next few days, Juliana tries to prepare them with some exercises since it has been years some of them roller skated. Then they gradually learned again how to do some simple routines as pairs then as groups. Before the gang knew it, in a week they have mastered all the skills and are ready to practice the actual choreography for the performance. Luna and Matteo still haven’t talked much though, yet they’re constant staring proves to show that they still miss and love each other.

Monday Evening at the Jam and Roller (after about a week and a half)

Juliana tells the gang that they can rest, and training has just finished. The group has finally mastered the double turns alignment but are struggling with air spins. Matteo heads over to Luna like old times, while she’s drinking water near the rails. “What’s the matter Chica Delivery? Has all the training finally tired you out?” Matteo flirtatiously says. Luna tries to hide her blushed cheeks and smirks at his comment. “Chico fresa you know that can never happen. My internal adrenaline is endless.” Luna and Matteo begin to laugh. Luna stops once she remembers why she was trying to avoid him for the longest. “Matteo don’t think I forgot everything that has happened.” She begins to stare at the floor, holding back a tear. “I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” Matteo begs.

“You know that’s not the issue. I just feel like I can’t trust you anymore. You promised me you wouldn’t lie to me anymore and that’s exactly what you did. I don’t want our relationship to be built out of lies. I’d rather stay single instead of having someone stab me in the back unaware.” Matteo widely opens his eyes, it feels like someone has sucker punched him in the gut. For a long time, Matteo has tried to prove to Luna he has changed and does truly care about her, how can one little lie bring all the pain back. “Luna, you know I would never want to break your heart or ‘stab you in the back.’ I just lied about this because I knew you would get jealous of me hanging out with Viviana.” Luna gasps in astonishment. “Jealous! Now that’s a joke right there. For me to be jealous of her, that would mean I would want to be like her or want something she has but that’s not the case at all. I’m happy with the life I live and don’t want to change it. I just don’t like how close she’s been with you. You know I’m okay with you having female friends, but not when one tries to kiss you when I’m not around and constantly wrapping her arms around you. Even the news outlets think you broke up with me and dating her because of how much ‘quality time’ you guys spend together.”

Matteo responds with, “You know how much I miss it when you call me Chico Fresa and miss these fun bantering moments. I would never fall for her because you’re my one true love. You may not be jealous of her but you’re jealous of her getting to spend time with me. Is that it? You want to hang out more with me? How do I make it up to you?” Luna shakes her head and says, “You just don’t get it and it’s okay. I don’t feel like arguing today.” Luna rollers away and Matteo covers his face as he lays his elbows on the silver polished rails. Gastón heads to him and pats his shoulder. “She still hasn’t forgiven you?” Matteo shakes his head in response. His phone begins to ring in the pocket of his jeans. He lifts himself up and pulls it out. “Hello…. yes……. Already in a week? ..... ah I see, okay that seems appropriate I guess…...tomorrow okay, I’ll see you then.” Matteo hangs up and places his phone in his pocket again. “Who was that?” Gastón questions. “It’s my manager. They’re planning to release my music video with Viviana at the end of this week. Usually, we don’t release music videos this early but apparently she demanded for it since it would look good and perfect for this summer. Well to prepare for the release, they want me to perform with her in a live concert.” Matteo’s expression shows his stress and frustration. “But what about the Jam and Roller training?” Gastón asks him. “I’ll try to practice for the concert before the Jam and Roller training starts every day and the concert is on Saturday so that day I guess I’ll just miss training for that one day. I have no other choice.”

Gastón keeps thinking and doesn’t say a word till an amazing idea slips in his head. “I just got it! I just thought of the perfect plan that’ll get Luna to forgive you and get back together with her.” Matteo starts smiling as Gastón whispers the plan into his left ear. “Hermano, you’re a genius.”

The Benson Mansion

Ámbar doesn’t stop glaring at the letter in front of her. It was the original copy that was locked up in Sharon’s vault. This was what her biological mom wrote to her before she gave her away, it includes her phone number. She wants to call that number, desperately wants to but what if this number doesn’t work anymore? Or what if it does? She feels so confused. The closer the wedding gets, the scarier it feels for her. She wants to invite her biological mom and maybe even Sharon, she’s just undecided. It’s more than just complicated for her.

She sucks up every bit of courage left in her, grabs her phone and types in the numbers smeared at the bottom of the letter. It’s…. ringing. The longer she has to wait, the faster her heart beats. The phone stops ringing. “Hello,” the person on the other end answers. Ámbar’s voice begins to crack, “Uh… yes is this Sylvana Ariel?” Ámbar takes a big gulp of air. The person on the other end responds, “yes this is she. Who do I have the pleasure speaking to?” When Ambar hears that it’s her, she decides to move forward with the plan of meeting her. Maybe it was destiny for her to still have this phone number for so many years? “Yes, this is Ámbar, Ámbar Smith. We need to talk. Are you available today?” Ámbar takes control of the situation showing no signs of hesitation, even though her heart says otherwise. “Oh Ámbar? Yes, I’m available today.” Ámbar takes one good look at the letter and answers back, “Good. Meet me at Pachani’s restaurant today at 7 p.m.” The lady answers with an okay before Ámbar hangs up the phone.

She didn’t know this day would come so soon. Getting to meet her birth mother. What should she say? What should she do? Maybe this would help her understand her whole story and discover more who she really is before she gets married. Simón walks into the living room. “There you are. I thought you would be at the Jam and Roller; you never miss an afternoon of work?” Ámbar quickly folds the letter and slips it into her purse. “Oh yeah I just came home to… find another bridal magazine. I thought I left one of my favorite ones here in the living room.” Simón scrunches up his face, “here? In the living room of the Benson Mansion? But you always look at them at our apartment?” Ámbar clasps her purse and places the strap around her arm. “Oh well I sometimes look at them here whenever I visit the Valentes and have a cup of coffee, by mistake one of these days I left my bridal magazine.” Simón nods showing how he understands. “So how are bridal things going?”

“Pretty smooth. Luna and Nina agreed to go order the sets of flowers and decorations at the boutique right across town,” Ámbar states. “Oh, that’s nice. Luna and Nina were so kind to offer their help. What would we do without them?”

“Yes, I agree. We’re very lucky to have them indeed. Um there is one thing I forgot to tell you. At around 7 p.m I won’t be at home yet, I have a meeting with some other law school students for this project we have going on, so I won’t be home.”

Simón’s smile fades away. “Aww I’ll miss you, but I do wish you good luck on the project. I know you’ll do great on it.” Ámbar smiles from thinking how lucky she is to have a caring, understanding partner by her side. They hug each other and head out of the mansion.

*Gif not made by me. Owner of gif's name is at the bottom right hand corner :) *

Lacey’s Boutique

Luna and Nina wait at the front desk holding a slip of paper that carries a list of things they need to purchase for Ámbar’s wedding. “He said that?” Nina whispers. “Yep, I can’t believe he called me jealous when he was the one who lied and created this whole mess in the first place. When we got back together, we agreed on no secrets and to always communicate. That’s the only way a relationship can go well, just look at Ámbar and Simón?”

“I absolutely agree. I felt awful when Gaston spied on me that day, so I understand what you mean. Luckily everything is fixed now,” Nina cheers. “I’m happy for you Nina, sadly in between Matteo and I is a person who doesn’t stop flirting and hanging out with him. Plus, it’s so obvious too, even Simón thought he was dating Viviana and broke up with me. I can’t believe Matteo doesn’t believe me and instead calls me jealous. After everything we’ve been through.” The cashier heads to the counter and Luna and Nina’s conversation ends. “So, is this the list for everything?” Luna nods in approval. “Okay great, everything will be prepared in time and the delivery will be sent to the place on the date of the card.” Luna picks up the card and puts it away in her tiny backpack.

“Thank you,” she begins to head out before the cashier stops her. “Wait, I have something to give you.” He pulls out another card from his pocket. “Here’s my phone number, maybe we can have a cup of coffee together someday if you’d like?” Luna is speechless and turns to Nina for a choice of words. Nina shrugs and seems to be just as confused as her. “Um... well the thing is I’m in a relationship… well right at this moment I’m not sure…. Honestly I don’t know it’s complicated me and my boyfriend well after what he did, I don’t think he’s still my boyfriend but I don’t know…” Luna stops talking when the cashier extremely perplexed expression shows vividly. “Um… well once you get all that resorted and decide not to be with this… complicated person feel free to give me a call.” He leaves and heads to the back of the store. “Luna, I’m shocked he’s still into you after everything you blurted out. I think you even fried his brain.” Nina and Luna giggle their way out.

Jim and Yam’s Apartment

Ramiro adjusts the collar of his nicely firm long sleeve button up shirt. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers and is trying to collect the right words to say to Yam. He knocks on the door and waits for a response. “I’m coming,” she says. For Ramiro, hearing Yam’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.

She opens the door and is surprised to see Ramiro’s well put together fit. “Before you say anything I want to do this right. Yam, I know our relationship has been like an ongoing rollercoaster, we’ve been through the ups and the downs but the one thing that has always stayed constant is my love for you. After everything that has happened, I always knew I love you and my path ends up meeting yours. Yam would you like to go on a date with me?” Yam covers her mouth in amusement. She’s appalled from the beautiful surprise he’s presented her, and with a speech too. Usually, Ramiro is too cool for all of this but seeing what he has done has proven enough to Yam that he’s committed. “Ramiro of course, I would love to. In fact, I was always thinking what took you so long?” Yam begins to chuckle. “I guess fear from this not working out, but you can’t always live in fear for the rest of your life.”

Yam jumps into Ramiro’s arms and kisses him on the cheek.

[mrpenguinpants]

Hey so that Dainsleif quest huh 👀

[Spoilers for those who haven't played it yet ofc]

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These are just some disorganized initial thoughts for your consideration:

So I'm pretty sure his "travel companion" that he keeps mentioning is our twin

Does that mean our twin has gone to the exact same places as we've been going?? Dainsleif seemed to be familiar with all the locations we visited in Mondstadt but I suppose that could've been from an even earlier journey

And the possibility that the Abyss is trying to mislead us bc we hadn't encountered any abyss mages since Dvalin 🤔🤔🤔 what do they want??? We know (kinda) that our twin is watching our progress and that they're the prince/princess of the Abyss so like are they trying to keep us from getting in the way of their plans so as not to accidentally hurt us? Though something tells me we're gonna get tangled up in it one way or the other lmao

Dainsleif said that his goal is to oppose the Abyss so perhaps he's got his own secret plans to try to stop our twin (as is also supported by what he said at the end of the mortal travails video about proving ourselves worthy of stopping "her"/Lumine probably)

Also turns out I'd been pronouncing his name wrong the whole time lmao I had been saying dains-leaf instead of dains-lif

No Vision as confirmed by his full character model

Also his eyepatch is more of a phantom of the opera mask lmao

Important observation he looks like post timeskip Dimitri from a distance when I had to meet him in Dvalin's Lair I legit thought he was Dimitri for a sec XD

Anyway those were my thoughts about the new quest lmao my internet was cutting out the whole time while I was trying to play like dsfkdksjf pls I just wanted to talk to blond eyepatch man

Important part of this post: 

I took a lot of pictures of Dainsleif if you want to use them as references (or appreciation).  The pictures are under the read more tag so if you don’t want spoilers, don’t read anything and skip to the read more. 

Also, he calls you and your sibling “idiots” through money.

He asks for 500 mora and (this is probably just a coincidence but considering Zhongli tips Xiangling 888 mora I’m sus). The number 250  [二百五] or ( èr bǎi wǔ) means “idiot”. 

If someone calls you 250, they can say (nǐ shì wǔ bǎi) or “You are [250]”. But if you give someone 500, this can be taken as saying two people are stupid (250 + 250 = 500). I mean, that’s probably not how it works but I think it’s funny to imagine Dainsleif being too polite to call us stupid. 

---

I know right? When I saw the leak for it and seeing it confirmed in patch notes, I was so confused. Wha-Why are you here so early? I wasn’t expecting you for another 5 years at least. I’m happy to see you and your beautiful model in game but at the same time I was so worried that we were going to get crumbs of interactions. Same thing with Guizhong in Zhongli’s story quest. Genshin please...finish your stories (that’s fucking hilarious coming from me considering I still have a part 2 to Childe that I need to write), but I’m honestly just happy that he’s in the game. But yes 👀👀 more lore food. 

You know, I was talking about the archons a bit with @maagdalen and, I may have been misunderstanding or reading the wrong message, but they brought up the idea that what if the archons’ personality is based on their regions country's? So for example, Venti’s personality adopts the German mentality because Mondstadt was modelled after Germany? Obviously, I have no idea if that’s true because I’m not from or am German but in the context of Liyue and Zhongli. I can definitely see some sort of connection. 

But some food for thought:

“But cyro archon is very viable since she's suppose to be a kind hearted person that needed to be cold for the sake of freedom. or peace. something like that.”

 “Sorry, but this is stupidly Russian style. No matter what you say, people will always be dissatisfied. Of course it's not that bad...but it's something to think about.“ 

But yess, @svnflowery​ said the same thing. That Dainsleif was Lumine’s “guide” the same way Paimon is our guide. I actually think that’s an interesting idea. That Lumine has gone to the exact same places as we’ve been through. It actually makes me wonder (since we can play as both her and Aether), that Lumine went through the same story line as Aether. She met Venti, Zhongli, everything that’s happening right now. She’s already been through, then when she reached the Khaenri’ah chapter she failed. So she decided to spin the clock back and change destiny. I mean, this is me spit balling and I don’t think this happened but it’s something to think about. 

You know funny enough, hasn’t Venti been asleep for a while? Either way, he doesn’t really strike me as the type that truly wants to be an Archon. He says in his voicelines as well that “that’s a problem for Mondstadt to deal with”. So it would be easier for the Abyss Order to mess some things up. While Zhongli has been alive for 6000 years and I highly doubt Abyss Order can do anything to him haha. If we’re going on that “Lumine has already been through this journey” she could be trying to re-make or lead us on the same path. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if Dainsleif was our guide, then when Lumine spun the clock back and aligned herself with the abyss, that’s when they split. That could be a reason why he’s trying to oppose the abyss order but really I think it’s because the Abyss Order’s goal is to basically set the world on fire (or something like that). I always pronounce character names wrong and I don’t understand why people make such a big deal out of it. You know who I’m talking about, my pronunciation isn’t completely shit to the point you don’t know. So why do you keep yelling at me??

Also. The most important part of his quest was it was “Aether’s version” of the “We will be reunited” trailer. 

It even showed the crushed dandelion flower and the ruin guard footprints. IT’S OUR SISTER. 

I knoww, I was searching for his vision and got weird pics but that’s alright, I LOWKEY HATE THE OPERA MASK SO MUCH. GIVE ME ACTUAL MASK. THERE GOES THE “SEPERATE COLOURED EYE” ART OF KHAENRIAH PEOPLE. Yo, knock off Dimitri let’s go. 

I love Dainslief’s english voice but I hate Xiao’s en voice. What a dilemma. I usually play in chinese but wow does Dainslief sound old. Jp is slightly better but I hear grandpa vibes. Korean isn’t bad and I actually don’t mind korean xiao so korean we shall go. It’s weird. I like Dainsleif english voices, Xiao chinese voice, paimon korean voice haha. Jp is usually just good all around but I have preferences. But tyty for telling me your thoughts! I’d love to hear about the Xiao quest that just dropped. Beautiful boy 

sweats 

yeah about that...xiao scammed me. I wonder if his speech changes based on what you say. i kind of doubt it though. 

I’m looking at his outfit from every angle while Xiao stays pretty in the back. 

I like that you can see his magic arm there. 

While on this side you can’t. 

I swear this is for research. IM TRYING TO SEE IF HE HAS A VISION. IM INNOCENT!!

he also has some sort of weird...blue thingy on his foot?

Im using Xiao as a personfication of me BUT TELL ME YOUR SECRETS 

[liberty-barnes]

Letters To A Stranger

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The story of a girl who loved a boy, but couldn't talk, so she wrote.

Warnings: fluff for a bit, but then massive angst, and i mean massive, STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS BUT I WOULDN'T FEEL OKAY WITHOUT LISTING ALL THE ANGST FACTORS 

(mentions of ED, mentions of self-harm, implied character death, mentions of social anxiety)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 5 minutes

A/N: did you miss me?

Masterlist 

February 21st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Are you new? Or was I simply too oblivious to your presence until now? I've never seen you before, you're really pretty.

 I don't think I've ever used the word "pretty" to describe a man before. Well, boy, but my point stands.

But you really are. With your caramel eyes, and artistically tousled hair. You're cute. Kind of like a puppy. Not that I'm attracted to dogs, of course, but there's really no better way to describe you. Your face lights up when you talk on the phone, like an excited golden retriever who'd just been told he was going for a walk. I wonder who you're talking to. Is it your partner? Please, say you're single.

You get off after me apparently, so I guess I'll just keep my pining to my letters and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Kinda wishing I was yours,

Your secret admirer.

February 22nd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back! Is this a simple coincidence or are you a regular? 

From the backpack on your shoulder, I'd say maybe you're a student. I don't go to school. You make me wish I did if only to see your face every day for more than the short ten minutes of our joint ride.

I wonder how old you are. You look old enough to be in high school, but which year are you? I know I'm only nineteen, but I'd feel a little bummed about crushing on a fourteen-year-old.

You're smiling again today. I'm glad. I don't see a lot of smiles at the diner. Mostly glares, impatient huffs, and tired, distant expressions. It's a nice change.

I have to go now but thank you for making my day.

Hoping to see you again tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

February 23rd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm starting to think that smile is permanent. It's the third day in a row that I've gotten on the train and was immediately greeted with your beaming smile as you watched some video on your phone. It made me smile too.

Your sweatshirt's pretty. It says "Midtown Tech" on it. Is that a school? Is it your school? 

I may have to do some digging later.

Please don't think I'm a stalker.

Your totally not-stalker secret admirer.

March 1st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I was late this morning so I didn't get to see you. My boss was not happy about it, I felt like I was walking on very thin ice.

And then this guy grabbed my ass while I was taking his order. I acted on instinct, tried to remember everything they taught me at my self-defense class. I ended up accidentally punching him in the face. 

So yeah, I lost my job today. Which is why I'm here so early. I might stay on the subway just to see which stop you get off on. 

Yeah, maybe not, that'd be weird and I should start job hunting as soon as possible.

Thank you for making me smile on a bad day.

Thank you for being you,

Your secret admirer.

March 17th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I got a new job! I'm working at this coffee shop/bookstore and it's honestly the greatest thing in the world. I get to be around books AND get free hot chocolate, how much better can life be?

You looked a little down today, I wonder if you're okay? Is everything well at home? Maybe school's the problem? Maybe you got a bad grade, but you look really smart so I don't know.

I hope you're feeling better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 19th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I wish I knew your name, that way I'd know who to address this to. But I guess Cute Boy On The Subway will have to do. 

You were smiling again today, that's nice. I haven't seen you smile in a while, I was starting to get worried. The sweater you were wearing looked a little too big to be yours, the collar slipped down a little when you moved. It looks like there's a massive bruise on your upper chest. Does it hurt? Are you okay?

I wish I was brave enough to ask you in person.

Get better soon, 

Your secret admirer.

March 25th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back to not smiling today. I don't like to see you frown. Not at all. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you get better, see you smile again.

I want to talk to you.

I'll do it tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

March 26th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You were sad again today. But that's okay, cause I said I'd talk to you. 

Except I didn't.

My stomach started doing uncomfortable flips and I had to get off the train earlier than usual so I could throw up. It was not fun. 

Maybe I just have the flu?

Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 30th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I've tried talking to you for three days, every time I had to get off and empty my stomach's content. I started to see a pattern so after a half week of that vicious cycle, I went to see my doctor.

Turns out I have social anxiety tendencies and you simply trigger them a bit. So, basically, my body won't let me talk to you.

I'm a little sad but also kind of relieved. At least I know I'm not voluntarily letting you slip through my fingers.

Not that I ever plan on doing that, you've become too important.

I hope you smile tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

April 7th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm worried about you. Your sleeve rose a little when you held onto the pole. There are scars there, familiar ones, ones that I recognize as scars left by one's own hand. Physical marks of a person's suffering.

Why are you doing that? It hurts to know that you feel down enough to resort to that. I want to help, but I can't bring myself to talk to you.

Please stop this,

Your secret admirer.

April 12th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Your eyes were red today. You've been crying. There are dark circles under your eyes, how long has it been since you've last slept?

A lady asked you if you were alright. You said you were just a little tired. I've never heard a more obvious lie.

I wish I could talk to you,

Your secret admirer.

April 16th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

The dark circles haven't gone away, if anything they've gotten darker. But now there's a bruise on your cheek. You seem to be getting thinner too.

What's going on?

Your secret admirer.

April 28th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

How much weight have you lost? Your cheekbones are more prominent, and your arms are getting thinner by the second. Why don't you eat? 

The bruises are more frequent now. Cheek, eyebrow, lip... 

Who's hitting you?

Who's making you suffer?

Your secret admirer.

May 6th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I haven't seen you in a few days. I wonder where you are.

Are you okay?

I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, you probably aren't.

I've decided that next time I see you I'm gonna talk to you. Ask you what's wrong. Force you to tell me if that's what it takes.

I hope you're safe.

Your secret admirer.

May 27th, 2024

Dear Peter Parker, 

I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you when I had the chance.

I hope you're in a better place now.

I'm sorry you were alone when you did it.

I'm sorry you had to do it.

With love,

(Y/n).

yes, i'm one of those authors that post something an then disappears for two months, i'm sorry. i've been super busy with school and i haven't really had the motivation to write lately but i got this idea and i just needed to get it out.

also, i may be getting a new computer in like 1 or 2 weeks, so that's cool! it'll be better to write and stuff cause this one's getting kinda slow and sometimes it's hard to post stuff cause it won't load lmao.

anyway, i hope you liked it and if you did don’t forget to reblog/comment/like

love you all!

-Miah

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Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

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[akookminsupporter]

Looking back at old material they are actually often really mean to each other. They’ve mellowed a lot on that over the years but they can still be pretty harshly critical of each other as well as themselves. (I rewatched Gayo not too long ago and was reminded. Also interesting because of how Tae used to be the artist/photographer of the group and Jimin was mocked for being bad at drawing. Things change.)

They’re also perfectionist. Nearly all their backstage material includes at least one or two scenes where they go through their performances and point out each other’s mistakes. Often kindly but sometimes not so much.

One of the things that comes to mind is backstage from, I think, Graham Norton? It’s while JK has his injured foot and Jimin has injured his neck/shoulder as well and they are clearly annoyed/irritated/angry that Jimin is injured. JK says Jimin’s been working really hard because of JK’s injury and he’s immediately snapped at that they’ve all been working really hard. Does that mean they don’t love and respect Jimin or think he’s faking? No of course not. They’re in a tight spot because they’re about to perform a song with choreography but they’re missing two of their main dancers and one of their main vocalists and they are perfectionists.

I don’t know what scene anon is talking about specifically but I think it must be a few years old? One of my favorite things about Jimin and JK is how often you can find them going through footage and being completely honest with each other. (When you sing it like that it sounds like your voice isn’t strong enough etc.) They clearly have a deep respect for each other’s artistry and opinion. Have they occasionally been dickish to each other? Yes absolutely. Will they occasionally be dickish to each other in the future? I’m sure they will. Does this change the obvious deep love, respect and support between them? No.

The way BTS talk to each other about their work is natural to them but foreign to most of us. I don’t think they hold grudges about being told off for doing mistakes. If everything I did at work was criticized and scrutinized they way everything they do is criticized and scrutinized by themselves and the staff I’d cry and quit. They literally just told the story about how staff used to pause their dance practice videos and tell them off if they were not perfectly aligned from foot placement to gaze and expression. That is the kind of work environment that is natural to them, they don’t sugarcoat, but it is completely alien to a lot of us.

All this. Thank you for this anon.

[mybg3notebook]

Gratitude and care in Astarion

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

It’s hard to say if Astarion has a level of gratitude, which can be understandable since, as he said explicitly during the bite scene, it takes some time for him to trust in another person due to the torment that Cazador made him pass through (but like everything with Astarion’s words, it may be a plain lie to excuse himself in front of Tav ). The main reason for this lack of gratitude, or a twisted version of it—if there is any—, comes from the possibility of “Dark Desires” working on him (check post about Vampirism).

Astarion has two situations in which he seems to show, ever so slightly, a thread of gratitude. 

The first one is during the bite scene. The acceptance of his vampire nature is not exactly what he is grateful for, but for the willing offering of blood. This is—if we believe in what Astarion told us—the first time he has ever tasted blood from a thinking creature. This may be, like all words from Astarion’s mouth, a lie/half truth. We need to remember that Astarion considers a broad group of humanoids who are thinking creatures as animals (check Astarion Analysis). So he may or may not have drunk blood from a, let’s say, goblin or a gnome before. It’s also true that the only images we saw in his head by using the Tadpole were rats in his master's crypt; we don't see anything about his recent feedings (we know it was a boar). From Astarion’s perspective, killing a nearby goblin would count as feeding on animals, but technically it is not and therefore, Tav is not his first. 

In any case, putting aside this consideration, Astarion explicitly says that this offering of blood is a “gift” that he will not forget (if your rolls succeeded in stopping him). We still need to see how this apparent “gratitude” will manifest—if it ever does—.

If we got the bad luck of failing those checks, in which Tav asked Astarion to stop twice, but he did not, Astarion would end up killing Tav. In the next morning, he is not even guilty or ashamed for his excess (an excess that one could understand a bit since the vampiric bloodthirst is too intense in general), but his careless attitude and his dismiss of the gravity of the situation, giving an apology more concerned about his permanence in this group than being honest with Tav, shows that Astarion cares little for Tav. If he does, it’s always around the fact of guaranteeing his permanence in this group of powerful members that gives him safety and potential solutions in controlling the tadpole. When Astarion kills Tav there is no scene of “gift”, so Tav is completely unaware of how important this event was for Astarion…. if it truly was such (why would Astarion not say anything about it later since it has been such a “gift”? I’m deeply distrustful about his gratitude). Later, in datamined content, we will see Astarion subtly asking for permission to feed on the companions (Check post Astarion's Standards and Manipulation)

The second time he shows a minimal hint of something remotely similar to gratitude is in datamined material, related to a pair of videos that pjenn has shown about the scars on his back [1] [2]. He needs help to read it since he can’t see his body in reflective surfaces due to his vampire nature. We get from the narrator: 

* He might be sneering, but you can see pain in his eyes. He needs help, but doesn’t know how to ask. *

Helping him to decipher the infernal message on his back (if Tav is a tiefling) or at least attempting to (if Tav can’t decipher it at all), Astarion will add “thank you by the way, this is… well, it’s something.”

And that’s all. That’s all the content in EA where you can see a hint of “gratitude” in Astarion, if you squint your eyes, scratching content from a single phrase in two scenes. There is also no meta-knowledge information to add to this, or any explicit reaction from Astarion that could imply more gratitude than this. As a character who represents a “bad behaved victim” probably makes sense. He has only focused on himself and on his own needs for survival. There is little room for gratitude there.

Should we expect any gratitude? Personally I don’t think so. Although he follows the troupe of the bad-behaved victim, he is also a power-focused character that manipulates constantly every situation in order to guarantee his survival or simply to have fun (bloodshed or sex). Those small details of apparent gratitude may have perfectly been part of the games he plays. 

Could he eventually be grateful? Hard to say in EA. If he is, it seems to me that he will be in the evil way. When I say this I keep in mind what Swen said in several talks/videos about how they were not considering alignment change in characters but only in the main char. Which is a curious change from bg1 or bg2, or simply the true reason to work with more generalised alignments: good, neutral, and evil alone. 

It is clear that we cannot trust in Astarion’s gratitude, only shown in two single lines that will not always be seen. Astarion is a great manipulative char and that small hint of gratitude he shows may be one of the many tricks he uses to survive and gather power.

Does Astarion care for someone?

Since we are talking about gratitude, we can also talk about care. If Astarion has shown something clearly during all EA, it is his lack of honest interest for the well-being of any creature beside himself. This includes the members of the group. There is never meta-knowledge information displaying that “deep down, in a silent way” he cares about his companions.

The only opportunity in which he apparently seems to care about some companions, is when he is reading the book of Thay, which apparently is asking him to kill the group, to which Astarion answers with a “No, I won’t kill them. Maybe *insert scripted companion’s name*”. 

We know at this point that he would enjoy seeing his companions suffer and die, because bloodshed is always “fun”, but he is prioritising how this group protects him. This concept can be seen pretty clearly when we are witnesses of Lae’Zel’s death at the hands of the githyanki patrol. Astarion will say something along the lines “what a pity, she was a powerful specimen”. Another proof of this aspect is when he approves of sacrificing one of the companions to the fish-people who worship Booal. Astarion doesn’t truly care about anyone of the group (not even the main char, to whom he may kill in a bite dismissing the gravity of the situation) but he needs them as protection and also as the only way to find a way to control his tadpole. It’s always about his needs.

After all, we should not forget that iconic phrase during the stargaze scene: 

“You think I’d kill you, just like that? Darling, I would never. I still need you.”

And this had been stated in every opportunity: The most important thing at any moment is survival. Astarion doesn’t care about killing or betraying. He enjoys it, “it’s fun”. He is not turning against the group basically because, by now, it’s the only safe and promising means to guarantee his survival. He needs this group so badly that he won’t abandon it even if a good aligned Tav mistreats him and disrespects him at every opportunity they have. Tav is the one who has to insist for Astarion to abandon the group, and even then, he will try to convince them of the contrary. That speaks volumes about what this group (and Tav) truly means to him. Like everything with his character: just a means for survival.

This post was written on April 2021.

→ For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index